I think my peanut butter is turning gray

This is a little alarming, but not enough so that I have stopped eating it. Question: who brings home a partially used tub of skippy on a 5 hour flight from Maui to San Jose because she can't bear to throw it away so full? Answer: I do. And after only a month, it seems to be turning on me. I noticed the other day as I was artfully slathering it onto my freshly toasted home pride slices that it didn't look as brown as it should, but chalked it up to the lighting in our breakroom. Now, there's no mistaking it. This peanut butter is getting stale. However, I am a pro at ingesting things past their prime. Two week old spaghetti? No problem. Three year old frozen hamburger meat? Down the hatch! Pizza left out on top of a heater for two days? Mm Mm good! My stomach, surprisingly, takes it all like a pro and hardly complains. I can either take this as a testament to how much my body wants me to be a sack of lard, or I can put a positive spin on it and say that my digestive system is much more highly evolved than most. In a hundred years, I may be the mother of the next generation of superbeings capable of feeding on steel and cardboard. You heard it here first.

Shebacakes

I have been meaning to get a dog for a while now. And by "a while now" I mean since I was old enough to know what a dog was. Over the years I’ve been teased with cockatoos, bunnies, fish, kittens, and a turtle but this shit is for real. I’m a 28 year old woman with no husband and no kids, and it’s time for me to get myself at least a starter dog to fill the emptiness that a severe lack of human contact creates. Enter, Sheba.


Sheba is a toy fox terrier mix who is living in a foster house with 10 other dogs. She’s two and she weighs only 7 pounds. Oh and Sheba is deaf. Deaf! This is the second deaf dog I have been interested in since the beginning of DogQuest 2007-8 so i pretty much feel like it’s a sign from the heavens that Sheba should be mine. I am going to visit her after work today to see if she likes me and I’m seriously contemplating stashing raw meats in my pockets to ensure that she does. But with eleven total dogs in her home, I’m worried that the foster mother isn’t going to give Sheba up so easily. She has already warned me that she’s extremely picky and has a tendency to keep her foster animals permanently. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much about this, but I find myself quickly reverting to age 6 when I would pray every night that my mother would finally give in and buy me a pony. I feel like I’m being interviewed (which I am, I guess) and this worries me because I typically don’t do well in interviews. Unless the interviewer is male between the ages of 30-50 and I am wearing a particularly revealing top/ no bra. So...fingers crossed on this one.

Side note: they are building a Hooters at the old Spoons by my house. Janessa feels that we are shoe-ins for waitress positions and free implants, but I am a little more skeptical about this. Laura thinks we would make our mom proud to see both her daughters in scrunch socks. And I am a huge fan of nude pantyhose. So, who knows? Hot wings, anyone?

oh gods my backmeats!

It hurts very much to breathe right now. I blame this on that thing at the gym that I did last night. Oh sure, it looks innocent enough with its steel square supports and its soft cushiony cushion. But then it wreaks havoc with all the muscles in your upper and lower back until you scream in agony and drop the 25 pound circly weight with a loud clang after barely finishing your set of 15. My muscles, oh how they are broken.

home...not sweet home

If ever there was a moment in my life where I wanted to run away to a faraway island and live the life of a common street hooker on the beach, it was yesterday at around 1:30 PM Hawaiian time as I got my last glimpse of the palm trees outside the airport window of gate 87. I have never known true sadness until that moment. And oh how it pressed on my heart.

Maui was...incredible. We saw a crapload of humpback whales, a sea turtle like ten feet from the beach, some chickens on the side of the road, and a snake crossing (and almost making it) the highway. Sadly, he gave his life so our hideous PT cruiser could continue at 55 mph unobstructed. We won a free whale watching trip at the breakfast orientation our first morning there, and no I didn't get seasick, thank you very much. Not even after I saw the little Japanese girl toss her cookies into an inadequately-sized ziplock sandwich bag unsteadily held by her mother. Really? That's the best you brought in case of vomiting induced by the obviously unsteady seas for one of your ten children? Chances were good that at least ONE of them was gonna hurl, so maybe a larger sized bag might have been in order. Freezer, at the very least. That was gross, but I kept my camera focused on the horizon where whales were breaching right and left. I found it hilarious that our female whale researcher/seasoned whale watch tour guide kept proclaiming in shocked voice how "That's the FIRST time I've ever seen a whale do that!" and "WOW you guys are so lucky, this is aMAZing, whales never blow water out of their spouts like that!!!" She may have fooled some of the other passengers, but I knew better.

So I experienced loads of cool things on this trip and had a whole boatload of firsts: first helicopter ride, first fish taco, first total immersion in la mar (despite horrible death fear of being immediately ingested by a shark of some kind), first whale watch, first sighting of a humpback whale in general, first sneaking in to fancy resort pool (and oh my god was it worth it) and first nude beach sighting. I won't go into the details on THAT. Rest assured, good times were had by all, and I am already planning a return trip.

The bad news? Coming home to an even messier apartment than I left because maintence had decided to finally begin the remodeling of my unit. After 6 months of my living there. While I'm on vacation. Without my permission to enter, and without me moving a single thing that should most likely have been moved. I called the managers office today and found out that there is a stand-in property manager for the next month who knows absolutely nothing of the remodel schedule and is kind of saucy when it comes to trivial questions such as when will my apartment be liveable again. Welcome home!

just another manic wednesday

I am tired today. And not so good at finding things to entertain myself on the internets, since I have the attention span of a dust mite coupled with the routine of an obsessive compulsive. But I did find an interesting idea on another blog that I just might be bored enough to attempt.

The idea is this: take a picture a day to document your year. I guess that's supposed to start the first of the year, but better late than never. I think it's a neat idea since it would be really cool at the end of the year to see all the stuff you'd done over the last 365 days. And it's not that hard to do: read, I am lazy and anything requiring much more than a click of the camera button once a day is most likely not gonna get done. It still may not get done, but I can imagine going strong for at least a week or two. Then when I have exhausted all the poses of Shelly, Hector, and Janessa, I will decide to end this project the way I've ended all others: abruptly and without remorse.

I got a Betta this weekend. He has been christened Lawrence. I give him a year tops, if he's lucky.

my eyeballs are dying

I ate a lot yesterday. And drank a little. But what else can you do on Superbowl Sunday when you really could care less about the game? I think I ate my weight in potato skins/meatballs and drank at least a fishbowl of hornsby's. And I fed at least as much as I ate to the three dogs begging at my feet. So everyone won.

I was in bed by ten, but the problem this morning is that my voice now sounds like that of a thirteen year old boy and my eyes are wincing at the flourescent lights in my office. I don't understand it, since I have drunk waaaay more than this on weeknights and have gotten significantly fewer hours of sleep and felt better.

The only solution is to have taco bell and a beer for lunch.

But hey, how about those Giants?

that's what happened baby

I can't remember if one of my New Years resolutions was to quit drinking, but I have a sneaking suspicion I have failed it. It begins innocently enough, with some sparkling apple cider to clear the head, and ends with attempting to drunkenly text message whilst speeding down the highway in the wrong direction after 8 martinis and a shot of Jaeger. Not that this has happened yet, but really it's only a matter of time.

I went out dancing last night for the first time in a while with just the ladies. I forgot how much better it is sometimes to have not a single cock in attendance. Not that we were misbehaving or otherwise acting up, it's just nice to know that no one is going to fight and everyone is going to have a good time because we're all on the same page. And then you get to return to the penis you know and love and everything is right with the world. Or something like that. A good time was had by all. Until I woke up this morning after about 4 hours of sleep and a glorious hangover. But that's what Fridays are for.

In a side note, Hector bought tickets to the Editors next Friday, and I must say that after hurriedly downloading every song of theirs I could get my hands on, I am going to enjoy this concert. They sound like Interpol/Joy Division and also of course, different. I've liked every song I've heard so far. And then the next day we get to see Murray from Flight of the Conchords at the Improv. I am going to be wet pretty much the entire weekend, is what I'm saying.

This weekend is SuperBowlExtravaganza and promises to be fun for all. With ping pong, homemade t-shirts, chili dogs and potato skins, how can you go wrong? Go Giants!