The tales of two pernicious pugs and their doormat.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Where am I spending Christmas?

Ah, that question is complicated. I have family all over the US, all asking me to come over for Christmas. I have my mom, dad, and sister who were coming to Minneapolis for Christmas, but due to car issues and snow fears, they'll now be spending Christmas in Michigan. And I - broke as hell - will be spending Christmas HERE. Alone.

Well, so I thought.

And then Collin's mom invited me over for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Which means not only hanging out with Collin's dad, mom, sister, and brother, but being introduced to his entire extended family. It's a little scary, actually. But I appreciate the offer.

Now I just hope I don't accidentally trip on the tree (which, btw, is Collin's dad's favorite little obsession during Christmas) and squash all the presents.

Oh God.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Snow = Naked Me

So I live in Minnesota.

And it snows.

Like, for example, today.

A lot.

And it has been snowing for a couple weeks now.

And although it's all nice and pretty and white, there are downfalls. Like cold. And glare from the freakishly white snow blinding me when I drive. And cold. And my hair freezing when I walk outside shortly after taking a shower. And, um, cold.

And lately, me taking my pants off. Yep. So I have a new routine when I get home. I take off my coat, hang it up in the closet, take off my Ugg-like boots (which are AWESOME makeshift snow boots) put my purse on the bookshelf, then ever so carefully take off my snow-covered pants. I shake them like crazy until most of the snow is on my tile floor. Then I lay them on top of a chair. And let them thaw out and dry. And I walk around the house with my sweater and panties.


Winter has turned me into a weirdo.

Monday, December 8, 2008

So, um, I'm pretty sure I'm in love.

It's pretty effing fantastic.

So, remember my dating adventures this summer? Well, Collin was one of my dates. He was quite different from everyone else I met or talked to, and although I moved to Michigan in August, we kept in touch. Finally, sometime in September I decided I was moving back to Minnesota because, dammit, I can't stand Michigan. Sorry. I missed Minneapolis, I missed my friends, I missed Collin. So I started the whole process of trying to move back, which included taking out a bar study loan for my expenses, registering for the Minnesota Feb. bar, blah blah blah. It took me way longer than I had hoped to finish it all, but finally, FINALLY, by the end of November, I was packing my bags and driving back to Minneapolis for good. Sometime between September and now Collin and I decided to go ahead and date officially, considering we couldn't quite get over each other, despite our efforts., yeah. I have a boyfriend. Who I love. Who's so ridiculously sweet, it makes me slightly misty eyed thinking about it. Honestly, I don't think I've ever met anyone who I "get", and share similar goals and beliefs, as much as with Collin. I'm just a lucky girl, I guess.

So right now, I'm living in a relatively inexpensive apartment which is FABULOUS, I just got gym membership for the first time since July and can work out whenever I want (YAY!), I'm looking for a job, I'm taking the February Minnesota bar and hopefully passing.... overall, it's a little scary but great. My puggers, unfortunately, are not with me right now - it's HARD finding cheap housing that lets me keep dogs. So my mom is keeping them at her house for now - we've got a nice house with 11 acres, so there's plenty of space for them to run. They seem to really like it, and my mom spoils them like crazy. I hope to find a job and a more permanent place to live within a year, and then bring them back to Minnesota. That is, if I can pry them away from my mom's hands. :)

Thursday, December 4, 2008

My butt hurts.

Those cycling classes are evil, I tell ya.

Yesterday I went to the gym for the first time since the 27th of July, and I took my first cycling class. Now, yes, it was a great workout. And I'm a little sore today. BUT, I was not expecting my butt to be KILLING me. I swear, those damn bicycle seats HURT. I was thinking about taking the cycling class every day, NO. I'll stick to every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. I can barely sit down comfortably, people. It's sad.

The gym is yet another step in me getting in shape - I started dieting about 1 1/2 months ago, and I've lost 13 pounds so far. I'm so excited!

Oh, and I have a new boyfriend! Who I totally adore. He's tall, completely sweet and caring and thoughtful, and I'm very very happy. Oh, his name is Collin.

(Disclaimer: More details to come of what the hell I've been up to for the past couple months. I swear.)

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Mommy Blogs

So I've decided, for my own sanity, I need to stop reading mommy blogs. Now, this doesn't include you, Tam, because you're mostly past the baby-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night stage.

But I constantly find myself telling my boyfriend, "Oh, God, I really hope I'm able to breastfeed when I have kids," or "Do you KNOW how much a baby poops in one day?!" or "I can't imagine, EVER, having a newborn AND a toddler. I'll just sit down and die one day. I know it."

Today he told me to stop reading mommy blogs. There's no reason to freak myself out about something that isn't going to happen for the next ten years. Soooooo.......

I'll cut back. I promise.

(And yes, I did say "boyfriend". And it's a new one. All shall be told soon enough.)

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

I interrupt this monotony of non-blogging...

To simply say (and please pardon my language, but it must be used):


Obama, we love you.

Friday, September 19, 2008


I just had to take time out of my crazy busy day and post this. That's exactly how I feel.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Say It!

Aren't they cute? Aren't the duo colors adorable? Say it! Say they're cute! I heart my PRESHUS toes.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008 cute!

I think I like Orlando Bloom now.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Meet Gretchen

So, who's the boss now, huh? Gretchen. That's right. Uh, huh.

(I've moved into my aunt's/cousin's place - Gretchen is their dog. Just in case you're all confused.)

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Reality Check, Please!

Am I the only one who feels my foot tingling with ass-kicking desire?

Monday, August 25, 2008

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

So I've moved, ya'll.

Yup. Finished law school and moved back to Michigan. Grudgingly.

So that's what I've been doing these past couple weeks. For those of you that wondered. (*cough* kitty *cough*)

Now I'm contemplating doing the Indiana bar and moving to Indianapolis. Michigan just isn't my cup of tea anymore. We'll see. For now, I'm busy trying to finish one last paper, and after that, job hunting! Woot! Yeah. Blah. I know.

Wish me luck with my endeavors.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Mix Tapes Rule

So I've been going on dates and whatnot. Just trying to have some fun before I leave dear ol' Minneapolis.

And I met someone awesome. Who gave me a mix tape.

I'm really not the sentimental type at all. Seriously. Flowers and chocolates and poetry don't impress me at all. But I was listening to the tape this morning, and well, I'm possibly a puddle of goo right now.

That's probably because the mix tape is perfect. I absolutely love every single effing song. He has me completely figured out.

It's awesome.

UPDATE: Per Mel's request, here's a couple of my favorites.

Plasticities - Andrew Bird

Creeper - Islands

North American Scum - LCD Soundsystem

Missing Pieces - Voxtrot

Veni Vidi Vici - The Black Lips

Monday, August 4, 2008

Who are you...

And what have you done with my pugs?!

So, Babs and Celly love food. Especially Celly. They really do. Even if they just ate, they're always up for a little snack. Or maybe a second serving of food.

So yesterday evening I cooked a casserole of warm, cheesy, delicious enchiladas, along with a pot of black beans. And homemade guacamole. And today I heated it all up for lunch. My pugs haven't eaten yet, and of course, my pugs begged and pleaded and whined until I gave them a little of everything. And they sniffed... and walked away. Walked away. Walked A-W-A-Y!

My pugs, the quintessential lovers of all things greasy, refused enchiladas! What?

Oh, and then, Babs tried a little. Just nibbled. At this point, normally, Celly would attack her bowl with fervor because of course it MUST be tasty, since Babs is eating HIS food. But noooo. She didn't. She sniffed again, and walked away. Again.

I swear. I think my pugs have been possessed by a vegan.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Lazy Monday

Huh? What, Mom? Whadya say? Huh?

Eh. I'm sleepy, man.

I'm not listening to a word you're saying. Just so you know.

Why is Celly getting so much attention? *grumpy stare*

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Better Picture!

So, okay, I am a little dumb. Didn't realize the camera was set to manual focus. But the darn button is all the way on the side where I can't see it! So, here's a much better pic. You can actually see both sides now. Yay!

Monday, July 21, 2008

Really Badly Taken Tattoo Picture

So, I really tried to take a picture of the new tattoo. I really did. And I think I've gone temporarily dumb. Because my camera isn't focusing very well, and I just can't for the life of me remember how to make it focus. So, I just went with the sharpest picture. Even though it's not the most flattering. Or clear. You can't see the right side of the tattoo. But, heck, I tried for an hour and then I gave up. Because I'm exhausted. And if I'm planning to box later today, I need at least a nap. So here's the pic. And I reassure you - it looks much better than that. It really does!

Sunday, July 20, 2008


Um...leg tattoos? Well, they're strange.

I remember getting my back tattooed, and being extremely sore for several days.
I'm not really sore with this upper leg tattoo.

However, I am swollen like a bowling ball. I wasn't swollen with the back tat.

Okay, it's not THAT bad. But the skin around my tattoo is puffed and red. I don't think I've ever been that swollen before anywhere on my body. And when I poke my skin, it feels kind of hard. Hm. Weird. Maybe it's because my leg takes so much more abuse than my back? I mean, I walk on it all the time. My back just sits there and chills most of the time.

I don't know. Fortunately, I don't feel discomfort (except when I rub cream over it, which is no fun), so I'll just let it relax for now. I still love it! And the blood finally seeped into my skin and the colors are looking better already. Unfortunately, my camera batteries are dead and I'm too busy today to run out and buy new ones. Tomorrow. I promise. :)

By the way - I have to admit something to you. I didn't trust my tattoo artist. I was watching him tattooing it yesterday and thinking, "Crap. I'm not sure I like the color. It's too dark! I told him I didn't want it that way." But today? Today I woke up and peeked at it and went, "Ahhh, my precious!" *in my best Gollum voice*

Lesson? Always trust your tattoo artist. Especially if he's been tattooing for 20 years. The dude knows what he's doing.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Tattoo Numero Deux

Oh, yeah. Uh-huh. Got my tattoo today. And it took 3 hours. Even though it's substantially smaller than my other one (which also took 3 hours). And it HURT. Remember my last tattoo? And that adrenaline rush, which really diminished the pain? Yeah, I think I already used up my life's supply of adrenaline. Because this one - this one HURT. Every little line. And I could see him doing it, because it was on my upper leg, and I was sitting up reading a book. And it took FOREVER.

But I love it!

And I can't wait until the swelling and blood diminish so I can see how the color really turned out.

And once we get to that point, I'll post a picture.

Because I love you all, my tattoo-loving readers.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Ah, pugs.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Ha ha ha ha...*snort*...ha ha ha....

This is what pug and LOTR fans need.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

My pugs need anger management classes.

They really do!

There have been at least 5 full on, throw-down, I'm going to rip your nose out, fights in this house in the past couple days. And I don't know what's going on! They're usually so well behaved with each other - sure, they play fight all the time, but lately those play fights sometimes turn into real fights. And they're so impatient with each other's food - growling and snipping during the entire meal. I'm so very confused. Lately Celly has been having some indigestion, and Babs seems to have picked it up today too, so maybe they're just feeling sick and groggy and pissy? I hope it's just a phase. I'm tired of separating these two. And geez, how many fights are there when I'm NOT in the house?

Sunday, July 6, 2008

I think Celly is a tranny.

Male-to-female, I would guess. She has to be, otherwise, I just can't explain why she has been bothering Babar nonstop for the past couple weeks, attempting to climb and hump him. It's really rather disturbing. Poor Babs, the celibate monk that he is, doesn't understand WHY she keeps on bugging him.

Ah, well.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Scariest Movie E-V-E-R.

So, I'm not really a huge horror fan. I hate torture-porn flicks, and if I'm going to watch gore, it's got to have a decent story behind it. However, I do have a soft spot for zombie/vampire flicks. Don't ask me why, I just do. So I loved 28 Days Later (and its sequel). And I've been on the hunt for another good zombie flick for a while now. Several months ago, I heard of this Spanish movie called [Rec], which had been released last year everywhere except the US. I also heard it was so good, American studios were working on a remake which would probably be released before the original version found its way into the US. So, being the curious person I am, I tried to get my hands on a copy. And I found an online version (which I will promptly delete, downloading police! I promise!). And I watched it earlier today. With the lights on. And two pugs playing in my lap. And, it started off pretty good - not really scary, but exciting nonetheless. But then the last 15 minutes of the film rolled around.



Um, yeah. Did I feel like huddling into a little ball and shrieking, "Mommy!"


Did I find myself surprised at how quickly I went from, "Hm, interesting flick." to "OMG, I'm utterly terrified! I can't watch!!"


Did I turn off the movie 10 minutes before it ended because I just couldn't take it anymore?


Have I ever done that with any horror movie EVER?


Do I have the balls to turn it back on and finish the last ten minutes?

HELL NO. Absolutely not. In fact, I'm deleting it this very minute because I absolutely refuse to put myself through that again.

Did I email my cousin and tell her to watch it because she loves horror movies and nothing fazes her?


Do I secretly hope this will make her poop her pants in fear?


I know. I'm evil.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

I want a hamster.

So I watched Wall-E yesterday. I went to the 12:30 PM showing, because A) I had just finished my last official law school class, and I wanted to part-ay, B) I had gotten home at 3 AM after catching the midnight showing of Wanted, and gotten up at 7 AM to get to class, so if I planned on seeing Wall-E, I had to see it immediately - if I went home and sat down, I'd pass out for the rest of the day. So I saw it, and it was okay. Now, I realize that you Pixar maniacs must be ready to smack me over the head with an oversized hammer. Fear not, I'm a Pixar maniac myself. But this movie felt very different from all its predecessors. Not in a bad way, and I'm unsure if it's a great way - it was just different. It just felt so much darker than anything before - perhaps the subject matter lends itself to being darker, but as much as I enjoyed it, I left the theatre with a tinge of alarm/sadness. Perhaps because it was one of the most "realistic" scenarios Pixar has ever covered. I've heard some people say that it makes fun of itself and doesn't take anything too seriously - and that may be true, but I don't think the audience can help but seriously contemplate some of the ideas the movie is discussing.

Or maybe I was too brain-dead from lack of sleep to laugh as much as I should have.

But this post really wasn't about Wall-E. Nope. This post is about Bolt. Who is Bolt? This is Bolt (I would link YouTube, but they don't have a decent trailer up. As far as I can tell). And sure, the movie looks kinda cute, but keep your eyes peeled for the hamster. See it? Hear it? Isn't it freaking A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E?! Don't you just want to get your own hamster and teach it how to talk?

I think I might see that movie solely for the hamster.

I know.

I'm a sucker.

A sucker for cute talking hamsters.


Friday, June 27, 2008

Babar: 0. That's right, Z-E-R-O! Pug Mom: 1

So yesterday I devised a new plan to get him to eat his meds. I mixed the Benadryl with a scoop of Cookies 'n Cream ice cream, and put it in his usual eating bowl. I didn't do that yesterday - I basically hand fed it to him in a different dish. I gave Celly a little ice cream too, because she's way too greedy to stop herself from pushing him away and eating his food. Then I put both their bowls in the usual place on the floor. Then I waited. Like yesterday, Babs licked the ice cream, then stopped and looked at me as if to say, "I'm not dumb, Mom. I KNOW that ain't normal ice cream!" But then he glanced over at Celly devouring her ice cream with gusto. Now, this is where pug peer pressure kicks in. If Celly's eating the exact same thing, and she's enjoying it so much, then it MUST taste good........ right? So he gave it another shot. He still didn't seem very happy about the taste, but Celly's butt was still wiggling like crazy with desperate love for her delicious ice cream. So he tried it again. And hesitated. And tried it again.

I was doing little "I tricked Babar - uh, huh, oh, yeah, uh, huh" cheerleader moves.

Then he walked away.


But then, Celly finished her ice cream and sauntered over to check out his dish.

Babar spotted her before she got halfway there, and running back, he growled, and attacked his ice cream with fervor. In a couple seconds, it was all gone. The bowl was licked clean.

And I win. I win! Bwahaha! In your face, Babs, in your face!

Yep. Dear ol' Celly may be a brat, but she's also my secret weapon.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Babar: 1; Pug Mom: 1

So the doctor told me Babar has allergies. And he's got a genetic tendency to joint problems too. And he needs medication for both. So far, the joint medication has been sitting on the counter collecting dust, because it is O-H-S-O-V-E-R-Y-H-A-R-D to get him to eat the darn pills. But I've been adamant that at least he's getting his allergy meds. So, following doc's orders, I went out and got him some Benadryl. First I got the pill form, and since they're so tiny, I figured I could hide it in his food. So I tried that.

Yep. Didn't work. The pug ate all around it, even put it in his mouth and sucked the actual food away from it, and dropped the pill on the floor. He's that good.

So I went and bought the kid's version - liquid Benadryl. This was going to work! I put a little in his bowl, along with a scoop of ice cream, which I thoroughly mixed together with the medication. I gave some ice cream to Celly too, so she wouldn't try to attack Babar while he was finishing his meds. And Babar started eating it! I was so excited. Victory for Pug Mom! Finally. But then he stopped, licked his lips, and looked up at me as if to say, "Hm, there's something suspicious about this ice cream. It doesn't taste quite right." So I begged, and he took another couple of licks. Then he stopped again. Then I begged again, and he took a couple more licks. And we kept up this routine until he had ALMOST finished. But then he decided he wanted to check out what Celly was eating, and he trotted off to bug her.


So 1 for Pug Mom for getting him to ALMOST finish his meds...and 1 for Babs for not finishing ALL his meds.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

I've Got A Little Crush

Just a little one.

I don't know much about him, other than the fact that his name is Fu'ad Ait Aattou, and he's French. He's just finished his first movie, "The Last Mistress".

I've realized that I like androgynous boys. I like manly men too, but I've got a soft spot for men who could be called "beautiful" (rather than "handsome").

But I'm not a fan of hairy fellas. As in, "My father was a gorilla and I'm only slightly less hairy".

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Survey Time!

Okay, so I'm thinking about getting another tattoo. It's the flower above, but it's much smaller than my last piece. This one in particular has special meaning to me - it represents Ecuador (my mother's birthplace), and all my extended family on my mom's side. If it had a little talking bubble, it would say, "Hey! I stand for Pug Mom's love for Ecuador, her heritage, and her family!" The flower is called a lantana, and it grows in Latin America - there's actually a species that only grows in Ecuador. It is one of my biggest visual reminders of Ecuador - on my first visit to Ecuador, when I was 7 years old, I remember the house being flooded by overgrown lantana shrubs. And my cousins and I would go out, pick the flowers, and make little flower necklaces. Not a big deal, but something I've always remembered.

Now, some people have expressed concern that my current tattoo (and my next) will adversely affect my reputation and my career. And to a certain degree, I understand and agree with them. I realize that - generally speaking - most adult people have negative connotations attached to tattoos. They think they're trashy, indicate gang membership, association with scum, etc. And I know that a person with visible tattoos will often get discriminated against just because of their tattoos - regardless of the quality and artistry of the pieces.

I understand this, and I am under no illusions that I should be treated differently because my tattoos are "special", or that people will change. Because, honestly, it takes a very long time for people to change. Maybe my kids' generation (or my kids' kids' generation) will accept it. But not my generation. And certainly not my parents' generation. Knowing this, I still chose to get my current piece done. Why? I guess it boils down to the fact that it is important to me, and I don't believe I should have to live my life and make my choices based on what other people will think of me. I have thought very long about this, and I am morally and spiritually at peace with my decision.

However, like I said, I realize that this might influence other peoples' opinion of me. With that in mind, I made the decision early on not to have any tattoos that are visible in a short skirt and sleeveless shirt. That way, no one in my professional life will have the chance to judge me on anything other than my personality or work ethic, because there's nothing for them to see. And yet, I am managing to stay true to myself and not do things simply for other people.

And yes, my tattoos aren't invisible - you will be able to see them if I'm in a two-piece bathing suit. Or in my bra and panties. But those two situations are usually reserved for people very close to me. And I am only close to people who accept me completely - with or without the tattoos.
So, basically, I think I've covered all my bases. Making sure I present a clean-cut image to the professional world? Check. Still live my life the way I want to? Check.

And now, what do you think? Am I being unreasonable? Too optimistic? Think my boss will hunt me down at the beach and fire me for having a back tattoo? Have you had any experiences that support one side or the other? I'd really love to hear your opinion. And be honest. I'd rather hear the truth, as bad as it may be, than have you tell me everything will be just dandy. So, spill the beans, people!

Friday, June 20, 2008

4 Posts-In-One


Remember I blogged about Celly playing tag with my mini-pug statue? And how I thought that was so special because she only does it with other dogs or Babs?

I saw her doing the exact same thing today with a little branch that had fallen into the patio.


Maybe I just have a dumb dog.


So, I have these cookies I absolutely adore. They're made by Potbelly, the sandwich fast food chain. And today I went to get a massage, and right next door there's a Potbelly. And since I haven't had those cookies in MONTHS, and I hadn't eaten all day (and by that time it was already 5:30), I stopped in and got myself the little bag of a dozen mini chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. And they had just come out of the oven so they were warm and gooey and just so amazingly beyond delicious. And I ate the entire bag on the drive home. Because I clearly want to gain 500 pounds. I got home and I was feeling kinda sick. So I made myself a cabbage salad (just lemon, a little olive oil, and salt) and felt much better. Lesson? Don't eat an entire bag of chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. Even if they are from Potbelly. And just out of the oven. And freaking delicious.

And why the hell do we eat stuff when we know full well we'll feel ill minutes after eating it? I'm telling ya - I don't think our ancestors were so stupid about food. It was all about survival, not cravings. Or at least I'd like to think so.


So that massage I mentioned? "Aaahhhhhh" (that's a heavenly chorus singing). Yep - it was just beautiful. This time, I asked her to please do it with a light touch - I wanted to relax, not get my kinks worked out. And even though it was only 30 minutes long, I fell asleep about 5 times.
Then I thought - how fantastic would it be to have someone massage you to sleep every night? I might even permanently give up ice cream for that. And then I thought - how awesome would it be to have someone on call 24/7 to give me a massage? After the gym, "Bob! Massage!" After a particularly long day, "Bob! Massage!" Although that wouldn't work out so well in this society. Even the richest person can't have a massage-slave. I think I'd have to be rich and live hundreds of years ago to have a massage-slave (and have it be perfectly PC).

*sniffle* I want a massage-slave. *sniffle*


Last, but definitely not least, an update on my workout program. Well, less update, more squealing with glee. So, last December, I realized that my significant weight gain (and near impossibility of losing weight) was due to the particular type of happy pills I was on. So I quit (with the "okay" from the doctor), and since then, just by eating normally and working out occasionally, I've gone down to the size I was back in December 2006. But that's still not my ideal size - I want to lose another 2/3 pant sizes, or 27 pounds. Whichever looks better.
So, since the end of April/beginning of May, I've been taking boxing classes. I was going pretty regularly, then I took two weeks off during graduation, and then I started going back. I have lost some weight just doing the boxing - it does completely tire me out and make me sweat like crazy. I just haven't lost as much weight as I would like. For the past two weeks, I've been going every day, and for the past week, I've added an hour in the gym doing weights. And no, before you ask, I'm not trying to bulk up like a bodybuilder. But it's a common known fact that muscle burns calories much more efficiently than fat, and so, the more muscle I have, the faster I'll burn calories. Plus I'll already be burning calories working out, so it's an added bonus. Also, it's really very hard for most females to develop those steroid-y looking bodies. Usually when women work out with weights, they lose weight and tone - NOT bulk up. Even if you're doing heavy weights and little reps. I talked to a couple trainers and they suggested few reps (8-10), only 2/3 sets, but enough weight that you can barely complete the sets. It's more efficient, works your muscles better, and takes less time.
So that's what I've been doing. And my gym just bought all new machines. Yay! And, the upstairs floor is always empty whenever I'm there, so I have all the machines to myself. Double yay! So, like I said, it's only been a week that I've been doing the weights, but, BUT! I can already see improvement. If I flex my arms in front of the mirror, I can actually see my biceps pushing up. Me! With visible muscles! Visible even through the excess fat! Which means they'll look MUCH bigger when I actually lose that fat! And what's really the most important thing here is: there's visible improvement in only a week. ONLY a week. And my deadline for losing weight/toning is 7 weeks from now. And now, I officially have hope of getting very close to my target size. Triple yay!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Fasting + Exercise = Bad Idea

So, I've started this new diet. Basically I eat healthy (and yummy and normal) every day, but I don't eat major carbs (like rice, pasta, bread) except for once a week (my "Go Crazy" day - although I don't really go crazy. I have self control, people!). And I am also trying to fast one day a week, just to let my body relax a bit. I've fasted before, and it's been fine. And a 24 hour fast has always been a breeze. However, I've never exercised before during a fast.

You can see where this is going, don't you?

So I did my first fast yesterday. I went to the gym for 1 hour, then I went to my boxing class (for 1 hour), then I walked my dogs for 30 minutes. I felt pretty good by the time I went to bed.

Then I woke up today. I jumped out of bed to answer the phone in the kitchen. Then I went to the bathroom. And eventually I realized that I was feeling really, really, really weak. As in, "I'm about to faint" weak. I was so confused, because I've only felt this way once or twice my entire life. And I couldn't think of a reason for why I felt this way. Having fasted up to 3 days in the past, and never feeling this faint, I came to the conclusion that it must have been the hours of exercise I did yesterday.

So I ate. I ate a couple veggie sausages. I still didn't feel better.

Then I ate three grapefruits with honey. Feeling a little better.

So then I ate a couple more veggie sausages (they were low-fat, people! Half the calories of the regular type!)

And then I was back to normal.

So I've come to the conclusion that I have to either give up the one fasting day, or not exercise that day. And I have a feeling the exercise does me more good than fasting, so.......

Bye bye fasting.


It's not you, it's me.

You know what hurts?

Getting warts frozen off your foot.

Yes, that hurts. A lot.

Fortunately, it seems the treatment is working - this is my second time, and the doctor said some wart tissue is coming off. So my pain is not in vain.

Just three more treatments to go. *shiver in terror*

And if that doesn't work, then off to a specialist for more "aggressive" treatment (They're already carving a hole in my foot and spraying it with liquid nitrogen - what are they going to do next? Saw my foot off?)

Yeah. Warts are evil. And I've never had them before - just got my first two when I went to Brazil and walked through dirty muddy water barefoot. Because I was crazy.

Saturday, June 14, 2008



That's me hyperventilating.




And I realize my reaction is a bit tardy (should have been late Friday night). But I don't have cable, and I was only able to download the last episode of this season today. And I just finished watching it. And I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT! Who's the last Cylon?! What the hell happened to Earth?! I wanna know! I wanna know!

And for all of you out there that have yet to see Battlestar Galactica, I urge you, beg you, plead with you, to get yourselves a copy and watch it. It is probably one of the best drama series for the last couple years. Yes, it is really really really good. Even if you've never cared for any type of scifi ever, THIS is one show that'll hook you.

So, um, I'm sad, people. And mad. Stupid SciFi. Dragging out the last season. Hate them.

Friday, June 13, 2008

And The Happening...

Is kind of creepy.

If you've seen the commercials, I'm sure you can tell the plot has something to do with people killing themselves (for some unknown reason). And if you've seen the commercials, you see that it first starts with confusion, then they just stand around, and then, well, they kill themselves. Overall, it was pretty good for a recent Night film. Although there really wasn't a twist. Or rather, it was just really really tiny.

And as I was driving home from the theatre, I saw a family of bunnies just sitting in the middle of the road. Really still. Not moving. And my first thought was, "Oh no! It's killing the bunnies now too!"

Tee hee hee.

The Incredible Hulk...

Was freaking incredible. Really. Okay, not Iron Man good, but ALMOST Iron Man good. There is NO, absolutely NO, comparison to the Bana version. None. None, ya hear me? None. And yes. I went to the midnight showing. Because I love midnight showings. And I should be sleeping because I have my final today at 8 AM. And I have less than 5 hours to sleep. But I just HAD to post and tell you all to get your butts moving to the nearest theatre. And buy a ticket to the The Incredible Hulk. And then go tell all your friends. And make them buy tickets too. And I'm probably being this pushy because I'm sleep deprived and tired and excited about the freaking awesome movie I just saw! Yeah. The theatre was buzzing with energy. It was definitely a good midnight showing. Okay, now I'm going to bed.

Go see Hulk.


Monday, June 9, 2008

You Want To Talk About Romantic?

Well, let me tell you - Spanish is the way to go.

I recently bought an external hard drive (500 GBs, people. 500!) to upload all my music and documents onto (and clear up much needed space on my laptop). And since then, I've been popping CD after CD and listening to a couple songs that I'd forgotten existed. And I've realized my collection of Latin music is much larger than I thought. And I also realized that, although I'm not one for romantic music at all, I must admit that hearing love poetry being sung in Spanish sounds so much more romantic and touching than it ever has being sung in English. Perhaps many of you may not be able to appreciate this (not speaking Spanish and all), but gosh darnit (and I hate to admit it) I think I could let myself be serenaded by a couple of these Spanish love songs.

And believe me, hearing someone tell you, "Te amo" is so much more heart-fluttering than "I love you." Gosh. English can be such a bland-sounding language.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Being Single Rocks Sometimes

This Friday, I went to see Kung Fu Panda (yes, I'm a sucker for animated flicks). I was 30 minutes early, but it being a Friday evening, the place was packed. Couples were walking in and walking out, because there wasn't a single 2 seats together in the entire theatre. But me? I'm single. I'm one person. So I found a great seat right in the middle. Yay!

The movie was pretty good, too. Although for some reason, as much as I love Angelina Jolie, I do NOT think the woman is good for voicing anything. Her voice is nice, but just so bland. She doesn't really have that "oomph" required (in my book, anyway).

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Celly Is Freakin' Adorable

Yep. She is. She has to be, otherwise she'd be dead from being so annoying.

So I have this pug statue my mom gave me a while ago. And yesterday I put it on the floor, because I was moving some stuff on the shelf it usually sits on.

And I forgot it there.

And today I let the pugs run rampant around the house.

And Celly comes up to the pug statue, sniffs its butt, then backs away really slowly. Once she's several feet from it, she wiggles her little butt (in that "Oooh, I'm feeling very playful...and so...ATTACK!!!" way), then started what I like to call the "Pug Teasing Ritual". It consists mainly of running towards the object, getting close enough to sniff it, wiggling the butt, growling enticingly, then running away. Rinse and repeat. With each turn, the distance grows farther and farther and the butt wiggling becomes more crazy.

And let me remind you that Celly (and Babs) only do the Pug Teasing Ritual on each other or other friendly dogs.

Which made it even funnier. Here was Celly playing doggie tag with a ceramic minature pug statue.


Sunday, June 1, 2008

Celly Ate A Mosquito (And Other Serious Matters)

So last night I was laying on the couch, covered in my nice, warm, couch blankie, draped by two heavy pugs on my chest, watching TV. When who should enter but a gigantic mosquito. I don't even know if they're called mosquitos (seeing as they're so ginormous) but anyway, there it was. Flying around lazily. Scaring me to death (I, for some reason, have the biggest heebie-geebies when I see one of those huge mosquitos). And then the mosquito decides to fly closer to me. And closer. And closer. And I cringe, trying to decide when to dive under the blankie, when guess what happens? Celly spots the mosquito hovering nearby, takes a flying leap off the couch, and...swallows it in one bite. Yep. My baby pug ate a huge mosquito. To save her mommy! I was so proud.

Now, I have another matter to bring to my dear readers' attention. And I'd like your honest opinion, because I'm sick of trying to figure this out on my own. So, this is the problem:

I have a friend, who I've known for a couple years. In the past, we used to hang out often and get along pretty great, but for several months now, we've been drifting apart. I'm trying to decide if I should end this friendship definitively and not drag it out any longer, or whether I should give it another chance. And if you can give me any input, advice, opinion, I'd appreciate it. But perhaps I should inform you of how our relationship stands right now, and our individual behavior in the past months.

Him: He rarely calls, and if he does, it is often to ask a favor. Sometimes, if he's at the supermarket, he'll call and ask if I want something. He doesn't text/email/fax/etc. often either. If he does communicate, mostly it's to tell me something that's going on with him - he rarely asks about me. He rarely tries to hang out with me - if he does, it's usually to see a movie (that he's interested - never a movie I really want to see, but he's not interested in). Sometimes he'll be nice, like buying the next X-Files season and letting me watch it first. Or saving chicken leftovers for my pugs. But those occasions are few and far between. When we are together in a situation where we can talk, I notice he oftentimes isn't paying attention to what I am saying, or doesn't seem very interested in listening to me (and before you ask, there is a marked contrast in his behavior when he IS interested and participating in conversations, and when he ISN'T). He has repeatedly said he wants to be my friend, and that he likes me, but he rarely talks to me or hangs out with me, and even when he does, it often feels like he's not really there. Today he even texted me to let me know he had done something I STRONGLY disapprove of, and I know will hurt him - he knows I disapprove, and knows I would worry about him and that it would hurt me to know what he did, but he still told me. And when I asked him why he told me, when he knew it would hurt me, he didn't give me a reason, or apologize.

Me: If I want to hang out with him, or want to know what's going on with him, I have to call him. He rarely initiates contact. If we do hang out, I feel uncomfortable because he doesn't seem interested in having a conversation or being a friend and asking what's up with me. I've tried talking about him, but even that doesn't work very well most of the time. In a lot of respects, we have very different topics of interest, but I have always done my best to find out what's going on in his life, and show him that I care about him. However, he rarely seems interested in doing the same. He has often cancelled "dates" because his other friends called him at the last second and asked him out (and sometimes had the gall to make me feel guilty if I seemed upset at his cancelling). I don't feel like he's a friend I can count on, and I feel like he's only my friend to use me when it suits him. This hurts me, and deep down inside I think I should end the friendship instead of being dragged to and fro at his whim - but I'm hesitant to do it. And before you ask, I have done my best to avoid clingy behavior - I don't call him every day, and I certainly don't see him every day. I do most of my social activities by myself and don't invite him - if I do, it's usually to something I'm definitely going to/watching, so I don't feel disappointed if he doesn't want to come along.

SO, yeah. After writing this down, I realize this seems horribly prejudicial. But honestly, I racked my brain to be as truthful and fair as I could be regarding the situation. And yet after reading this I have to ask myself, "Why am I STILL his friend?" I guess that boils down to - in the past, he was a good friend. He was generous with his gifts and time (he's like that with all his friends), and I had really fun moments with him. But now it's completely different, and the only reason I'm still hesitant to cut him out of my life altogether is because of those memories. I feel that I owe it to him, because he USED to be a good friend, to remain his friend even if I don't feel we are close at all anymore. Also, he occasionally does something nice (like getting me something from the grocery store or buying a movie for me to watch - although he keeps it, of course), which makes me momentarily forget all his other negative behavior. And we'll still bump into each other on a regular basis even if we aren't friends, and being non-confrontational, I don't think I'd like that (and I refuse to change my habits to hide from him). So, basically, this post is for you all to slap me over the head and tell me to stop being and idiot and drop the motherf'er. Or give me advice. Or something.

Sorry to burden you all with my friend issues, but today and his text message was the last straw, and I had to tell SOMEONE or I'd pop. So, people, what is your opinion?

Monday, May 26, 2008

I clearly want a baby.

Tam, your adorable kid is getting to me.

So last night, after finishing up a pretty decent thriller/crime book, I went to sleep. Woke up at 4 AM to pee, which was good, because I was having one of those not-really-a-nightmare-but-pretty-damn-disturbing-anyway dreams. Got back in bed, fell asleep, and guess what I dreamt about? I dreamt I had a little toddler.

Yep. I, at 21, had a baby.

Although I don't really think I was 21 - I think I may have been 23 or 24. Reality was skewed, as it normally is, because in my dream, the kid was mine and my ex's (even though that would have been physically impossible). Of course, he didn't want anything to do with it (or I think he didn't. He was absent from my dream, and I acted pretty much like he was dead or not interested in the kid). Anyway, my kid looked freaking adorable! Oddly enough (considering that my ex is black) she was this light caramel color with curly brown hair and green eyes (hmm, did I cheat with a white guy? Maybe that's why my ex didn't want anything to do with the kid. *tee hee hee*)

And we were hanging out with my extended family - and all my aunts were passing her around and practically worshipping the ground she walked on (as usually happens when people in the family have babies). Afterwards, everyone started preparing dinner, and I picked up my kid, took her over to her high chair, and got her ready to eat.

I remember going through the motions of feeding her, and wiping her cheeks when they got messy, and just feeling this amazing, overwhelming happiness - I swear, I don't think I've ever felt that happy in my entire life. It was like my life couldn't possibly get any better, and little things like combing her hair or putting on her shoes just made me feel so satisfied. It's hard to explain, really, this sensation - I don't want to go all anti-feminist on you and say that she was "the pinnacle of my life", "the best I could ever do", "she completed me", etc. Because, yes, I KNOW there are things, great amazing things, to do outside of taking care of your kids. And I plan to do them. But damn, just looking at her little face asking me for more apple juice was freaking amazing, people.

So I woke up and thought to myself, "Gee, my body REALLY want to breed, doesn't it?"

And just watch. 10 years from now I'll have kids. And I'll want to throttle them every single day.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Banana Bread

Just made some banana bread. Four bananas per loaf. Just tasted it. That is one MOIST, RICH banana bread. Like so moist and rich that you can only have one tiny slice because it's so freaking moist and rich. Yep, that moist and rich.

I think I may have undercooked it.


Babar has an ear infection.

So I took him to the vet 2 weeks ago to get drugs for the pug.
Today was his checkup visit. I sat waiting for the doctor to come and see him for 40 minutes, people. FORTY MINUTES. Eventually he deigned to drop by, checked him out, he's healthy, cute, yadda yadda yadda, and we marched out the door.

We met a cute pug out in the waiting room, who sniffed Babar's butt. Of course, Babar sniffed his butt right back.

We walk outside the clinic and head towards the car. On the way we see a gigantic German Shepherd and his female owner. The dog spots Babar and starts jumping up and down like he's got a seizure of happiness going on. The lady holds on for dear life while he bucks and starts screaming at the top of her lungs, "NO COMET! THAT'S NOT FLORA! THAT'S NOT FLORA! COMET! THAT'S NOT FLORA! THAT'S ANOTHER PUG, COMET! COMET! STOP COMET!"

Comet just bucked even harder.

I had to giggle. Seriously, lady. I have a feeling Comet doesn't get "human speak".

Thursday, May 22, 2008


Ladies and gentlemen, I have a white hair. I, at 21, have a white hair. A. WHITE. HAIR. Do you comprehend what I am saying? I'm saying - I, barely out of my teens, 21 years old - have a white hair. This is absolutely unacceptable. I know some of my family has a tendency to start the salt 'n pepper look early in life, but that doesn't mean I have to start it! I'm a baby, for pete's sake! My hair is still in its childhood! It should NOT be sprouting white hairs!

I first noticed it a couple weeks ago. It was really short, and since I've dyed my hair twice in the past couple months, I thought maybe it was the result of an especially-fried follicle. And it doesn't really LOOK white - it looks silver. VERY silvery. Very shiny, attention-getting, shimmering silver. So I plucked it out and forgot about it. Then today I take a look, and it's started to grow back, and yep, it's still silver. So that must mean that one hair follicle has gone traitorous against its dark brown peers. And that means I'm stuck with a white hair. For good. Now, say it with me, "Nnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I'm too young for this, people! Too young!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

So I'm done...

And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I passed all my classes. It would be nice to know all my grades, but unfortunately, my law school professors are notorious for taking up to 3 months to turn in grades. Yes, that long. I've been a bit nervous about it the past couple days, considering that it's my last semester, and if I don't pass some of my classes, I'll have to come back in Fall (which would suck big donkey balls). But you know what? I can go insane worrying about it, but that won't change anything. I won't know for sure until the professors are good and ready to turn in grades, and worrying about it isn't going to make the grades get back any faster. So, I'm trying to chill, enjoy the last couple days of vacation I have, and just put it all at the back of my mind.
I'm also going back to boxing classes today for the first time in nearly a week. I know, why that long? Well, first because I was crazy busy with finals, and then my family came over for my graduation and stayed until yesterday afternoon. And considering that all we do when we're together is cook, eat, cook some more, eat, get up and nibble, eat, gossip, nibble again, fall asleep sometime around 4 AM, get up at 11 and eat, nibble, gossip, nibble, nibble.... I've been feeling exhausted and bloated for the past couple days. Yesterday evening I pretty much passed out on the couch and didn't wake up until today.
Oh, did I mention that some of my family popped by for a surprise visit? All the way from California? And drove 27 hours nonstop? Because they're crazy? Yep. And of course they came at the most inconvenient, embarrassing time possible. Because that's how I roll. I was cleaning the house Thursday morning before I headed off to the library to finish my paper (I'd been practically living in the library for the past two weeks, and my house had suffered as a result). And of course, I was dressed in rags (because who cleans their house dressed nicely?), hadn't showered all day, hair was poking in every which direction...basically, I was a mess. My front door was open to air out the house, and I was in my room putting away some clothes. Then I hear my pugs barking like mad, and wondering what's going on, I walk outside to the living room. And guess who's standing right there? My two cousins who live in LA. And because I'm am absolutely NOT expecting them to be there, all I can do is stare at them and think, "Geez, these two guys look REALLY familiar! Who ARE they?" Yep. Took my brain a little bit to process the fact that yep, those were my cousins. In Minnesota. In my dirty house. Standing in my dirty kitchen. Looking at me dressed in rags, unshowered, unshaven, and with crappy hair. It was embarrassing, people! I don't know about you, but I like to look nice in front of people, including my extended family.
But yeah. So that's the story. And now I'm going to go nap for a little longer. Toodles!

Sunday, May 11, 2008


Anyone want to take my finals for me? And write that 30-page paper too? Because I don't W-A-N-N-A. Nope. I'm just going to go home, curl up on the couch, watch a couple episodes of the X-Files, and sleep through the entire exam period. Yes. Because I want to fail and have to come back this Fall semester and spend another $20 thousand on tuition.

If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit stressed out. Yep. Finals will do that to ya. Especially when you've got two classes that you just DO NOT understand, no matter how hard you try. So you pray and pray and pray and pray and beg God to please let you be kidnapped by aliens or get into a terrible car crash that makes your professors grant you an extension for a year to finish up the exams. Unfortunately, I'm still quite healthy, and haven't seen little green men running around either. Darn. So I've resigned myself to studying as hard as I can and if I fail, well, I tried. I REALLY tried. (Yes, I'm THAT stressed. I actually think I might fail a class. Despite the fact that I've done SO much more studying for these classes than I have for others in the past, and yet I still passed those somehow.)


Hate school. H-A-T-E school. It sucks thousands of dollars out of your pockets (or gets you into debt). And then it teases you with failure even though you've tried so hard to "get it". And THEN it reminds you that there are students out there who don't ever go to class, don't read for class, don't study for finals, get to the exam drunk, and STILL pass the damn test with flying colors. That, my friends, is called pure, unadulterated E-V-I-L. They're possessed, I tell ya. Possessed with brains gazillions of times more intelligent than mine. *sniffle* It's sad. Just sad.

On a brighter note, still going to my boxing classes. Still suck ass, but at least now I don't wake up the day after with every muscle in my body screaming, "DO...NOT...MOVE...OR...I...WILL...INFLICT...ENORMOUS...PAIN...ON...YOU." I even doubled up and did two classes on Thursday. I went in on Saturday and my trainer asked me if I was sore - I told him "not really". He laughed and said I obviously didn't work hard enough. I should have rephrased my reply to this: "Yes, I'm sore. Since starting these classes, there isn't a day when I'm NOT sore. But I've reached the point where the pain doesn't stop me from being able to move comfortably, therefore, I come to class."

I noticed something weird, though: before starting boxing classes, my exercise would consist of going to the gym and doing the treadmill, bike, etc. Doing those things would make me sweat and feel exhausted. Now that I'm doing the boxing classes, I'm sweating more than I ever have (it's the exercise, not the temperature, believe me), but I don't feel as tired out as I did at the gym. And I don't think that's because I'm getting an easier workout - I'm substantially sore-er doing boxing than regular gym activity, I sweat a lot more, I use a lot more of my muscles, and my rest breaks are shorter than at the gym. So why is it that I'm not aware of feeling exhausted during my workout? The only reason I can think of is that I'm not bored like I was at the gym. Maybe the boredom heightened my awareness of my exhaustion? Has this ever happened to you? Any ideas? It's just something I've been pondering for a bit. Meh.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

I did it, people!

Today marks the first day I've gone to class twice in a row. Until now, I've gone one day and taken 2 or more days off. Well, enough so that the enormous pain in my muscles has gone away (mostly). In my defense, this is only my 4th class (or is it 5th?). So I'm still quite the newbie. But today I woke up feeling not-very-sore-at-all, so I went to class this morning. Now, my body is telling me that I'll probably be sore tomorrow (we had the crazy-blonde-trainer-lady today). But that's cool - I managed to go twice in a row! Yipee! So proud of myself. Ha ha ha...

And now back to prepping for finals. Ick.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

The next day.

I skipped class today. Why? Because I'm sore. That's why. I feel like someone pounded my stomach and arms and back with a gigantic filled-with-lead basketball. Oh, wait - they did (okay, just my stomach and sides).

But at least my calves are not screaming at me with every movement like they did after the first class. I have a feeling that I'll experience a newer pain in different muscle groups with each class I go to.

I'll go tomorrow. I promise. *cringing*

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

So, I survived...

I was sore on Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. And Wednesday I woke up and realized - Hey! I can move my feet without wincing! Yay! So back to class for me.

And I've just gotten back. If you're wondering, I'm feeling okay. It wasn't as horrible as the first class - possibly because I was slightly more prepared than the first time. Possibly because the first time, we had to do exercises nonstop for a long time without rest (well, it was probably only a couple minutes but it felt like F-O-R-E-V-E-R), and this time it was 30 second intervals with 10 seconds of rest. Much more manageable. Although the instructor was so chirpy and cheerful that I wanted to jab HER in the face. But that's okay. I'm a beginner, and as such I'm the joke of the class right now. Usually I'm pretty self-conscious about these things, but you know what? I don't give a crap right now. As long as I keep sweating, I'm good.

Also, this is really helping me out with my stress level. I'm just exhausted with school, and these classes give me something to look forward to at the end of the day. Hopefully they'll keep me together during finals next week. It's nice to go somewhere and just sweat away your worries and stress and anger and all that shit. So, basically, boo for school and stress, and yay for boxing classes!

Sunday, April 27, 2008

So, ever seen that...

Friends episode where Chandler wants to lose weight and Monica becomes his trainer? And after one workout, he's so sore he can't even lift a coffee cup to his lips?

Well, that's how I feel. Being stressed out with school has made me try and find something to relax with. At the same time, I'm also trying to get in shape again. So, what did I do? I enrolled in boxing classes. Yep, boxing classes. Not that I necessarily have much interest in boxing, but it is a full body sport, and that's what I need. Plus, it's pretty cheap - $300 for 3 months of unlimited classes (heck, if I wanted to, I could go to four classes a day - of course, I'd collapse with exhaustion and have to be taken to the ER for resuscitation). So I went to my intro class a couple days ago - that wasn't bad. Just learning stances and punches. But then I went to my first REAL class. And I think I can safely say I was very close to lying on the floor and screaming, "I CAN'T BREATHE!" - and that was just within the first 10 minutes of the class.

But when I was walking around the house like a very...slow....crab a couple hours later, I realized I was in worse shape than I thought.

Today? If I sit down for longer than 1 minute, my legs return to their crab-like state and it takes me several minutes of walking to make them go back to something that resembles a human stride.

I shiver with terror at the thought of going back to class tomorrow.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Mistakes: Gotta Make 'Em

You know, I've been thinking for a while, and I've come to the conclusion that people NEED to make mistakes. I know, there are tons of advice books out there that tell you what you need to know about life in order to avoid making big mistakes. And your parents and best friends and teachers and nosy people tell you what to do to be happy, and what not to do. But the truth is, it doesn't matter. Most people will not learn from advice. Hell, people who WANT to learn and who TRY are probably going to end up making the same mistakes - advice or no advice. And why? Well, I really don't know. But I tell ya it's true. Take me, for example. I made mistakes in my relationship - big ones, that were partly to blame for the breakup. But the funny thing is - some of my mistakes were things I KNEW I shouldn't do. Things that I had seen with my own eyes done by other couples. I KNEW that they would lead to trouble. But did I listen? N-O. I did them anyway. And now that I've done them, experienced the consequences, and the pain that results, now, FINALLY, my little brain goes, "Hm, I shouldn't have done that." It's almost as if we have to try it out ourselves - maybe we deceive ourselves into thinking that even if it didn't work for 1,000 other people, it might work for me. I think it might boil down to curiosity, perhaps. The stubborness that is innate to most humans out there.

I'm not even sure I'm saying it's a bad thing - I know that by experiencing it, I've been sufficiently shocked enough into not doing it ever again (as much as possible). But still - it would have been nice to be smart enough to say, "Hey, if everyone is telling me not to do something, well, maybe they're right! Maybe they're got something there."

And if my post sounds mopey, it's not - believe me, it's absolutely not. I actually find it VERY amusing. I mean, I've seen smart people do it, I've seen dumb people do it, I've seen people in between do it. It's crazy - why can't we listen to experience???

But honestly, when it comes down to it, I don't think I regret many things. Especially the mistakes in my relationship. Because even if it ended, I learned from it. Really very important things. Things that are absolutely necessary for any kind of sane relationship. Lots of things I didn't know before. And I prefer to have learned that now at 21 than at 50 with 5 kids and an asshole husband.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Things I've Learned From My Breakup

Now, seeing as some of my blogger buddies are going through breakups and new relationships (Sue, Cinnkitty), I've been thinking about what I've learned from my breakup. And I need to post it - this blog started as my journal, and well, if you don't want to read this long-ass post, then don't.

Since breaking up with my boyfriend of two years, I’ve gone through several phases, some painful, some freeing, but all very enlightening.

Pre-Breakup: For several months prior to the breakup I thought about “our” future, and started to realize that “our” future wasn’t going to exist. Not if we continued doing what we were doing. I can’t speak for him, but I felt smothered – I had given so much to this relationship, I didn’t know who I was. And I needed, at least, a break from it all to figure myself out. Mentally, I had accepted the fact that we were going to take a break (or break up) soon. Emotionally, well, not so much.

1st Day A.B. (After Breakup): After realizing that I no longer had a boyfriend, I commenced to bawl like a baby and turn my eyes into gigantic swollen baseballs. Our breakup conversation didn’t consist of much – mainly, we agreed it was for the best, and that was that. My body and brain were still in shock, even though I had been preparing myself for this day.

3rd Day A.B.: I was frustrated and confused. I knew my reasons for breaking up, and I knew some of his, but I felt there was more he wasn’t telling me. And I’m a person that needs to know all the facts in order to make or validate a decision. So I went over and asked him to tell me, point by point, what things bothered him about me, both big and small. I can’t begin to explain how glad I am that I did that. Simply put, there were many problems. Most of which I had been unaware of or perhaps purposely ignorant. Yes, it hurt to hear them, but it just solidified my belief that we were absolutely not right for each other.

1st Week A.B.: I coped. I tried very hard to change my habits. I tried to stop hanging out at his place so often. I tried to stop calling him every day. In part, I missed “us”, and partly, well, this had been my life for the past two years. It’s hard to change habits so suddenly.

1st Month A.B.: I progressed. I stopped seeing him as often, stopped talking to him as often, and most importantly, I didn’t miss it as much. I would occasionally burst into tears at home if I thought about things too much, but that’s to be expected.

2nd Month A.B.: During all this time, my family had supported me and my decision. Maybe because they never liked him to start with – he didn’t fit into their stereotype of what a perfect boyfriend was, and also, they all had suffered from bad relationships and they didn’t want me to go down that road. As much as I appreciated their support, it was difficult to hear them continually tell me what a “monster” he was, how he never appreciated me, how he was so wrong for me, etc. I know it was meant to make me feel better, but it doesn’t help to be told that the person you loved for the past two years was a bad person and didn’t care about you. I sincerely believe that he did love me, even though our relationship was hardly perfect. On the other hand, as time has passed, I’ve become less protective of the memories, and I’ve started to really analyze what went wrong in our relationship, and why. I’ve learned a couple of things – things that may be hard to accept, but important to know:

1) I’ve realized that in the end, I was the one responsible for how my relationship turned out. That’s not to say that I’m excusing his wrong behavior, but at the end of the day, I was the one that decided to keep my mouth shut, accept that behavior, and stay in the relationship. He didn’t force me to – I chose to.

2) For the sake of everyone’s sanity, telling the other exactly what you want in clear, unambiguous terms is essential to a functioning relationship – in both little things (like what you want to eat) and big things (like what you can compromise, and what you cannot). I think this was a major stumbling block for both of us – we would be unclear, and then get frustrated with the other person for not guessing what we really wanted. I would do it often for little things: I’d tell him to pick a restaurant, and he would (often somewhere I didn’t want to eat) – what I really wanted him to do was tell me, “Well, honey, what do YOU want to eat?” I haven’t even bothered trying to understand the reasons for why I acted that way (screwed up parents, no previous relationship experience, I wanted him to take the initiative, whatever). The point is, it was wrong, and honestly, just silly. You want something, you say it. He would do the same, but usually for bigger things: for example, he’d mope over the fact that I didn’t like sports or politics. Instead, he could have told me, and taken steps to make sports and politics interesting for me. It is difficult for a person to suddenly become enthusiastic about a subject she never cared for her entire life – I believe some effort on his part to interest me would have been useful. For his sake, I would have compromised and tried to get involved, especially if he took the time to make it interesting for me. But he never told me, and so I never knew, and his frustration just built up.

3) Material things are no substitute for time. At the beginning of our relationship, he never had a problem spending time with me. He’d sacrifice his Saturdays and Sundays, his beloved football and soccer games, to spend time with me. By the end of our relationship, the weekends were practically off limits to me – I was lucky to get a lunch with him, and that’s only if there wasn’t a game on he wanted to see. He didn’t visit me as often anymore – if he did come, it was because he wanted to do his laundry, and it was easier to do it at my place than his. He was rarely at my place just because he wanted to spend time with me, no strings attached. Sure, he bought me things and paid for my dinner, but he treated his friends the same way. Time with him became scarcer and scarcer, unless I got up and went to see him (although those last months I was rarely invited over). I don’t want to give a reason for his behavior, because I honestly don’t know. I’m not him, and he hasn’t given me an explanation, so I won’t be unfair and judge him. The only thing I can say is that for me, time is by far the best way to show you love and appreciate someone. And if I don’t have that, everything else is meaningless.

4) A relationship cannot survive without respect. By the end of our relationship, he just didn’t have much respect for me anymore. He hasn’t admitted to it, but respect is shown through actions, and his actions conveyed that fact. When we first started dating, I was his smart, pretty girlfriend. And I was complimented and taken care of and spent time with. But with time, my image changed into his immature, lazy, needy girlfriend. And I was no longer taken care of, or complimented, or spent time with. And I will be the first to admit that it was my fault. To earn respect, you have to treat yourself with respect. Even little things change a person’s opinion of you. I’ve always had the delusion that your partner should love you and accept you exactly the way you are, and should be understanding of your past, your emotional baggage, your quirks. But I’ve been wrong. Many people have told me not to share my problems or my family’s problems with my special other, because that will weaken his respect for me. I always thought that was bullshit – he should understand and still accept me, right? Wrong. In a relationship, each person has been put up on a pedestal, and they’re regarded as great, fantastic, wonderful, etc. And that’s healthy – you need to have this great regard for your special other, especially when you have problems. Because that’s when you remember that, hey, they’re really great otherwise. But by sharing all my problems, all my family’s problems, all the little things I think are wrong with me, I’m practically bombing that pedestal into little pieces. I’m not saying its wrong to be honest about things, but when you overwhelm your special other with things that are “wrong with you”, you can’t help but make them think, “Hey, maybe there IS something wrong with her. Maybe she’s not as great as I thought.” That’s only human. In my case, I would talk about how lazy I was (jokingly, most of the time), what a bad student I was, how depressed I was, how f’ed up my family was, how I disliked my figure, how I couldn’t make friends, how I’m a bad person, blah blah blah. Even a saint would eventually start to agree with me. A lot of those things were said jokingly (but repeated so many times they were taken seriously), some were said out of frustration and exaggerated. The product in the end was the same. I had shown so much weakness, that my boyfriend struggled to find things to respect me for, to keep me up on that pedestal. And I’m not a bad person – I’m certainly not as bad or f’ed up as I made it seem. Maybe I said things because I wanted to be comforted, maybe because I hoped he would understand – regardless, it was wrong, and the effects were disastrous. Actions are also a big part of respect, and I also had issues there that affected our relationship. If you want him to think you’re clean, well, you’d better BE clean. If your place looks like a dump, you can be mad at him if he thinks you’re a slob. If you want him to think you are elegant, well, comb your hair and wear nice clothes. If you walk around the house in torn sweatpants and dirty hair, as much as he wants to believe you’re an elegant lady, you’re not supporting that theory.

5) Compromise, compromise, compromise. If you can't compromise, your relationship will die. It's absolutely guaranteed. And part of compromise is being willing to discuss problems, in order to find a solution. In this, I mainly blame my ex (yes, the breakup wasn't ALL my fault). He is the type of person that doesn't like to talk about problems - he prefers to keep quiet and deal with them on his own (and if he can't, well, he keeps it bottled up and gets frustrated). I, on the other hand, like to talk about my problems - perhaps too much. But I try to get my point across, because I'm the type of person that needs to know the entire situation before I can make a decision. And if I don't share my side of the story, how is he going to be able to make an informed decision? Well, that's my way of thinking. But he's not like that - even if he has a problem with me, it'll take him ages to discuss it, and only when he's near breaking point. So many many many of our issues went from something relatively fixable (if I had early warning) to a big explosive issue that just didn't seem fixable anymore (especially in his mind). For example, he hates dogs. But he's never bluntly, CLEARLY told me he hates dogs (it's always been a joke for him). So I bought my pugs. So what does he do? He starts avoiding my house because I have dogs. WTF, people? Honestly, if I had known he had such hatred of dogs, I wouldn't have bought one (or I would have waited until a more convenient circumstance). But he NEVER told me - and so a fixable problem turned into something unfixable (I'm certainly not getting rid of them now for his sake). Another example: I don't drink, I don't party, I don't smoke. And I will not willingly put myself in a situation like that. And I was clear with my Ex from the start - that's who I am, I'm not going to change. But my Ex and all his friends are like that - at first, he said it was okay that I didn't go out with them, but as time progressed, it got worse and worse until he said he felt like he was living "two lives" (it took him 2 years to tell me this). I tried getting involved with his friends in different circumstances - going out to dinner, watching a movie, etc. But that did not satisfy him. I think I should have been told about his feelings earlier - this is something I absolutely cannot compromise, and it would have saved us a lot of heartache if I had known about this from the beginning, and hadn't bothered trying to continue a relationship that was clearly hopeless.

So that brings us to the present. I hope I haven’t made my ex out to sound like a monster – I blame myself equally for the failure of this relationship, and I really tried to be honest with myself, and look at things without tainting them with hurt feelings. I have learned a lot from my relationship, and I’m glad I went through it. I know we had problems, and in the end, it didn’t work out. There was lots of pain and frustration on both sides. But I don’t regret anything – I KNOW we loved each other, even though we unwittingly sabotaged the relationship. I didn’t know any better at the time, and maybe he didn’t either. But now I know better. And I'm not going to sit here and whine and pout and think about how he COULD have been better to me, or he COULD have done this or that. That's a total waste of time. If he did do something wrong, well, it happened. It's in the past. Now it's time to move on and not let myself get caught up in something I can't change. This relationship has taught me things about myself I couldn’t imagine. And it has made me stronger, and more aware of who I am, and what I want and need from life, and from a partner. And I can’t excuse my behavior anymore. So now I continue, with a clearer understanding and absolutely no excuses. Cheers to enlightenment!

Monday, April 7, 2008

Weetle Pug!

(And yes, I know it's TOTALLY photoshopped, but still - how freakin cute is he?!)

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Brazil (EDIT!)

I promised to talk about Brazil a little, but I'm a bit lazy right now (well, actually, I have a lot of work to do and I should probably stop blogging), so I'll summarize in bullet points:
  1. Brazilians are REALLY friendly. And they love to flirt.
  2. It is impossible to be a vegetarian in Brazil. They're obsessed with meat.
  3. The samba scene is great. Well, the music scene generally is great.
  4. Portuguese is such a sexy language.
  5. The scenery is really beautiful.
  6. The weather isn't too hot, or too humid. Although my hair would disagree (would you believe I was unable to straighten it? Even after being blow-dried, expensive products applied, straightened with my $200 iron? And it STILL was a mass of frizz?)
  7. People don't like to add sugar to their drinks. Even when the fruit they use isn't ripe and is rather flavorless. Not even in lemonade (well, limeade really). How can you have limeade without sugar? I cannot understand this concept!
  8. Splenda/Equal/sugar substitutes are not advertised like in the US - in the US, sugar substitutes are promoted as great for weight loss, cutting calories, etc. In Brazil, they're advertised for people with diabetes and other such health concerns. It's even on the freakin' sugar packet - "For Diabetics". Obviously they don't care so much about calories.
  9. Remember the song "The Girl From Ipanema"? Well, we passed the bar where it was written. How cool is that?
  10. EDIT: People are not fat. Well, there are chubby people, but I certainly did not see a single obese person, like you see in the US. And they have no fat-people sizes. To give you an example, I'm a pant size 12 (yes, I'm not proud of it - I'm losing the weight, okay?!), and my size over there is GG (that's XXL). Yes, XXL. An American size 12 (considered Large in the US), ladies and gentlemen, is an XXL over there. XXL! And as far as tops go, I'm a Medium. Guess what fit me over there? XXL. Yeah. Simply put, I felt gigantically fat over there.
  11. EDIT: People LUV dogs over there. Really, they do. The Ex was complaining at the sheer amount of tiny toy dogs everywhere (he hates dogs). And guess what I saw? Two pugs! Pugs! Brazilians love pugs too! A little happy tear rolled down my eye (okay, maybe not. But I did scream to my Ex, "PUGS! PUGS! PUGS!")

Finally, I'm leaving you with a couple pictures. The first is one of the many views from the top of Pao de Acucar (Sugar Loaf), the second is the statute of Cristo Redentor, and the third is a picture of one of the beaches in Buzios (a beach town 2 hours from Rio de Janeiro).

My Pugs Are Litttle Houdinis

So I get home the other day, earlier than I had planned. And what do I see when I walk inside? Nothing. That's right - nothing. No pugs anywhere. Now, I may be a forgetful person, but I usually make double sure that my pugs are actually IN the house when I leave.

All doors in the house are closed at all times, so the pugs don't get into mischief. And I didn't accidentally lock them in a room - I KNOW I saw both of them staring at me when I walked out the door. So where could they be?

And then I hear a little snorgle coming from inside the bathroom door. I open it up, and guess what? My two pugs come running out.

What do you think popped into my head at that point?
A) OMG! My ex was in the house and he locked the pugs in the bathroom! I am going to KILL him.
B) Well...okay, there was just A.

So I call him. He was supposed to pop by later that day to watch some TV with me, but not for several hours. I ask him - he says he hasn't been around. And I believe him - mostly because he KNOWS he'll be in BIG trouble if he did lock the pugs in the bathroom.

So that leaves me with B) OMG! Someone was in my house! And they locked the pugs in the bathroom!

So I call my landlord and ask him if he dropped by unannounced. Which would be really really odd, but hey, that's the better option between that and having some random person in my house.

He didn't drop by.

So I left the door open? Someone walked in? Tried to rob me and stuck the pugs in the bathroom to shut up? But nothing was touched. My valuables (the few that I have) were still around.

So.... that only leaves me with one, very strange, explanation. I left the bathroom door open (which happens very very rarely) and the pugs somehow locked themselves inside. I know they're a rambunctious bunch, but I can't comprehend how they were able to CLOSE the door.

So.... I'm confused. I'd kill for video of that.

All right, an update on the whole JAG Air Force deal. The pay is not good - 30/40 base pay. We do get insurance and a lot of other benefits, and possibly free housing and food (depends on the situation), but I will finish law school with 150 thousand dollars in debt, so I will need a decent salary to pay off my debt. I'm guessing my monthly payments will be about $1000 or more, plus my expenses of housing and food - I think I'll need at least nearly $3,000 a month to be okay. So, okay - the pay will cover me, but barely. On the other hand, the job itself sounds fascinating. Honestly, the challenge of both having to keep myself physically fit at all times, and having to force myself to learn and work with different types of law - that just sounds so stimulating to both my body and my mind. It's like the complete package, and I'm sure my physical fitness will help my mind - they're all interconnected. Perhaps the one thing that bothers me the most is that we are soldiers first, and lawyers second - if there IS a need, I will be sent into combat. Considering the political atmosphere right now, I doubt there will be anything to worry about for at least the next 4 years. But then, you never know - China might decide to start WWIII (*snort, giggle*). It's not that I'm against war per se - I can see the need for it in certain circumstances... but I don't wanna die! Okay, I'm willing to put my life at risk, but only for something I believe in. And maybe I won't believe in the next war. Maybe I'll think it's just a load of bullshit. And if I have to die, I don't want my last thought to be, "Gee, I don't even believe in this, and now I'm dead. Crap." I know I'd be doing my job, but I'm dying, people! I want my death to MEAN something to me. I want to be able to justify putting myself at such risk. So, yeah. I don't know. I know the job sounds great, but I should probably balance that against the fact that, hey, I could fracking DIE! Oh, and the pay isn't all that great either. So, we'll see. I think in the end I'll apply, and we'll see how it goes from there - I might not even get in, you never know.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

I'm Clearly A Sadist

Yes, I obviously LOVE pain. Because why else would I schedule an appointment with my masseuse and let her torture my poor muscles into submission? I might as well have let her tie me up and beat me with chains. At least I'd be PREPARED for the pain.

Blah. Why do I keep going back for massages when they hurt so much????

I don't know. I must be a sadist.

On another note, Babar has turned into the most needy dog I've ever seen. Back in the day, he'd be an aloof little pug. He'd let me pet him when he felt like it, he didn't really like being picked up, and he'd ignore me most of the time. And well, that was okay - I was used to it. Now that I'm back from Brazil, he wants to be sitting or sleeping on my chest at ALL TIMES. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I sit down on the couch to watch an episode of Golden Girls while I munch on my banana muffins, and he attempts to climb up my legs and won't rest until he can lean his little body against my chest. It would be so cute if it weren't for the fact that he does it ALL THE TIME, and also, he's a heavy little bugger. And of course, Celeste is jealous. So then I have TWO pugs trying to climb up and sit on my chest. Darn darn darn.

Oh, you know, lately I've been thinking of joining the military. Sort of. Well, JAG. The attorneys who work for the military. It really does sound like a good deal, as far as incentives go. And the atmosphere is interesting - I'm not the type of person who'd be completely happy doing a 9-5 at the same place every day for the rest of my life, and JAG is definitely somewhat different. We had a guy from the Air Force yesterday at school, and he was there just because he loved to travel and wasn't the 9-5 type of guy, and he said his job let him get around a lot and he loved the variety. While he was talking, I was thinking, "Gee, he sounds like me." So yeah. I'm going to explore the options a little more and then maybe send out my resume. We'll see. The only thing I worry about are my horrid law school grades - everything else is in my favor, and hopefully that will outweigh them. Do any of you know anyone working in that position? Or heck, just working for the military in a specialized position? Do they like it? Was it hard to get in? My minds sorta buzzing like crazy right now with this new possibility. Don't get me wrong - I still want to open up my own practice, and that's going to happen definitely. But I haven't settled down yet - heck, I don't even have a boyfriend - so why shouldn't I take advantage of this? I'd be gaining experience as an attorney, AND be in a different environment. Out of all the attorney jobs I've heard of during my time as a law student, this is the ONLY one (besides opening my own practice) that sounds REALLY interesting and something I would enjoy doing.

The only downside is I'll probably have to wear a uniform. I hate uniforms.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

So I'm back...

And I'm T-I-R-E-D. Emotionally and physically. The vacation did go great - we did most of the things we wanted to. I did get gigantic blisters on my feet the second day I was there (new shoes + not wearing them in + walking nonstop for hours = bad idea). Yeah. And since I was walking funny that day to keep my feet from hurting as little as possible, I strained my calves and could barely walk for the rest of my vacation. But that's okay - it didn't really intrude with what we did, so no problems there. As far as being with my Ex 24/7 for a straight week - that was weird. Well, no, I mean, it was good - like I've mentioned before, we'd reached the buddy stage in our relationship for a while, so going from a couple to buddies wasn't difficult. What was bothersome was that I had gotten used to not seeing him all the time, and I was okay with that, and then this week sort of set me back. Not because I WANT to be with him all the time - now that I've been on my own I realize that I'm happier being completely in control of my time. I didn't even realize it all that much until I came home. Yesterday evening was my first day for a week without his constant company, and my puggies were at the pugsitter, and my house was completely empty. At that point it really hit me - I was completely alone. Having gotten used to his company AGAIN during that week, it just felt so strange to be sitting on my couch without a pug or a boyfriend to touch.
But don't worry about me - I don't want things back the way they were. My heart and my mind are in full agreement that this is best, and I'm honestly happier now than I was before. Today I'm doing great - I picked up my babies from the sitter, and later today I'm going to see a brainless action flick at the cinema. By myself. You know, I haven't been to the cinema by myself since I started dating my Ex. I figured, "Why go by myself if I can go with him?" But now I'm alone. And now it doesn't sound so bad to get in my car, drive to the mall, pick up a couple scents at Bath & Body Works, buy an Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookie at Potbelly's, sneak it into the cinema with me, and enjoy two hours of explosions and fighting. Yay me! Ha ha ha.... I'll tell you more about what we did in Rio de Janeiro next time. For now, toodles to ya all. Love ya, and see you around!