Surviving the Headless Horseman...

It's that time of year again..Halloween.

Not my favorite holiday by a long shot (even as a kid--I really didn't have that much of a sweet tooth). I always feel weird dressing up.

But this year--I'm going to embrace it. (More on that later)

Last night, Brittany, Amy, and myself headed over to Conner Prairie for an Indy Hub thing. $15.00 gets you dinner, two drinks, s'mores, AND a Haunted Hayride? Sign me up! It was fun hanging out with them...being silly scoping out potentials in the crowd (there were, sadly, very, very few). And then I got some dirt on someone that Amy and I both know (well..I know--and she's met) and didn't know we both knew(freaking small world), and I laughed my head off at the ridiculousness that is life.

Oh--we also had our palms read. Apparently I have "hidden talents" that I need to explore. And I can be a stick in the mud (aren't they supposed to tell you things that are going to happen--not things you already know?? I mean..it's true--but whatever). I will have a long and happy life, once I find my course career wise, I will do it for the rest of my life (and well), and I have a love line like "The Grand Canyon"--very deep. So when I find it--it's for good. He's stuck with me. Ha!

So we had our drinks, about got smoked out by the smokey fire making s'mores (and Amy was accosted by an obnoxious blonde sorority type girl "Oh my god! Are you his friend on FB? I'm totally NOT his friend. His girlfriend is heinous. I mean..it's like she's a personal attack to me. Gag." That. My friends, is pretty much verbatim.), rode along for a pleasant hay ride and then, after that was all said and done, played some pool. I got home at 1:30 this morning--and I'm dragging a little bit. Especially since I will be at work until at least 10 pm tonight.

No rest for the wicked girl.

Tomorrow, I'm manning my post at the museum (joy--can't wait to see the freakshows that walk through the doors tomorrow!)and then I get to haul ass home to transform myself in to Cleopatra--Queen of Denial (word play-fun stuff). I even sprung for the wig! It shall be quite hilarious, I'm sure. I've got a fake snake thing that goes around my head, long flowing gown thing with stuff down the center of it, a collar, and some Teal eyeshadow that y'all will see for days! I'm going to have gold nails, too--if I can muster up the energy. But the toes have to be done for my sandals.

So this year--I'm going all out.

Hopefully I don't look too much like an ejit!

No sir...I will NOT step on you!

So the other day I get this e-mail from a dude who uses a picture of a little blonde haired blue eyed cherub of a little girl as his profile pic (probably his granddaughter--which makes the following even more creepy). His name was Darrell. I'm pretty sure that's how he spelled it. His subject line was "please read". What can I say..I'm naive.

So I opened it.

To find the following:

"would you ever step on someone you didn..t know if they ask?"

Darrell...Darrell...Darrell. Perhaps you should go hang out with your other brother or spend time with your kid or your wife and stop trolling online for perverts. (And let me just say I was not stupid enough to reply--but rather reported him as Spam and blocked him from pretty much everything. Sorry 56 year old creepy mccreepster...I've got no patience for weirdos.)

The answer to that, by the way, would be no.

Apparently I am like catnip to the the freaks on the interweb.

The post season...

...it certainly doesn't do THIS body any good.

In fact--it's been hell.

So let me just lay it all out there for those of you who don't know. I am a New York Yankees fan. I have been since I was a kid. I am not ashamed to say I have t-shirts, hats, big (enormous, actually) comfy sweatshirts and socks. I think me wearing any one of these articles of clothing does, in fact, have magical powers that allow for home runs and amazing wins. I have two fuzzballs named Jeter and Yogi. If all of that doesn't prove my dedication--what will? Season tickets? Hmmmmm....

When you move from Indianapolis (let's face it..in 1987, the Colts were a joke and baseball? Where? Oh that's right--you risked being mugged or being killed by falling through the floors by going out to the old Indian's home on 16th street) to Houston, Texas and are faced with the atrocity that was, at that time, the Astros, you pick a someone else to root for--quick. I chose my Uncle's team. Growing up in Hawaii in the 40's..you didn't have much choice on radio stations coming in to the islands. What always came through crystal clear? Yankees baseball. He's a lifer...and has probably made a lifer out of me.

However--this does not mean I didn't enjoy being taken to Oilers games. One, it meant all the junk/crap food my dad could get in to me as this was during my mother's "everything should be fat free" period. And two,every time they would score (rare...very rare occurrences) they would blare "Houston Oilers! Houston Oilers! Houston Oilers Number One!" from the sound system. Now. Imagine a giant overgrown dancing oil derrick--and you've got yourself a show any kid will love.

But back to the Yankees. Quite frankly I waned for a few years, but then, well--they've had me since Don Mattingly. Sure, the old guys were okay in their day (I'm still waiting to one day name a dog Whitey Ford....when that happens--I can die happy...and if Pride of the Yankees comes on--oh hell. I will spend the rest of the day weeping.), but Don and that mustache? No contest. It makes me sad that he's not on the bench anymore--but he and one of my favorite all time guys Mr. Torre have done pretty well for themselves with the Dodgers. I still think letting them go was one of the most stupid things George ever did--but then again, George does a LOT of stupid things. Like letting his son in law run the show and dancing in that MasterCard commercial...but I digress.

In the last ten days, I have been up watching baseball for it seems like eternity--and we are just at game three in this series against the Angels. Up two games...just two more to go. All I ask? Make it quick--please? I don't know how much more I can take. And while I enjoy popcorn and PBR (baseball necessities)--I don't know if making it a steady diet will be to anyone's advantage. I'm veggie deprived...and I look like I'm sporting two matching black eyes from lack of good sleep. Sexy, huh?

I imagine once we get to the World Series--I will being to resemble a walking corpse. The things we do for the things we love....

Oh dear god..it's creeping up on me....

So. Tonight I received an e-mail from one of my nearest and dearest reminding me that in the (very) near future (mere months..four months to the day, actually), I will no longer be able to claim membership in the "Late Twenties" club.

Now. I was told not to argue with her in her pursuit (I won't Beth..I promise.), and I will honor that request.

On the outside.

On the inside? As the title says:

Oh. Dear. God.

I cannot believe that I will have been on this earth for--thirty freaking years. Thirty years of taking up space, breathing precious oxygen, and not really getting much accomplished.

Holy shit--where DOES time go?

So. I have four months to prepare myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about getting older, that's really not the issue. (Okay..I'm kind of lying here, but whatever.) More importantly, it's the loss of time that is freaking me the hell out. On my list of things I want to accomplish with my life--there's really not that much checked off. Sigh. I will have to lament on that later...

But thanks for the wake up call universe!

It's time to get what's mine, so stand back, yo! I'm coming for it!

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Well. One more day.

One more day of solitude.

Thank god Janet will be back here tomorrow. And I will have some chocolate peeps waiting on her desk.

Because I am so thankful she is back.

I had no idea how simply exhausting working day in, day out, jumping up and down a thousand times a day, unpacking, repacking, paperwork, scheduling--blah, blah, blah really is when you have to do it all by yourself.

Except for the fact I'm being shipped off to Terre Haute on Friday (inventory--yea fun), this week should be okay. Thursday is a day off. I will be able to get all the fall stuff up and outside done, finish up on the household chores and just enjoy my day.

So not exactly the most exciting or nail biting of posts..but what can you do?

Now that I have time to think..hopefully this will change!

Chemical warfare...

It's not something I like to admit--but I am TERRIFIED of spiders.

Especially ones big enough you can see their eight buggy eyes staring back at you, mocking you.

"You scared of me little girl?!? He he he."

You're damn right I'm scared of you arachnid. And with good reason.

(Now, I feel like I should preface the following by saying if they are little small spiders, the kind that tend to get into the house, I am not such a chicken. I smash them, flush them, and wash my hands about a thousand times. A good Buddhist, I will never make.)

Saturday, after a long day at work--and very (how sad--I had hopes) uneventful evening I come home to see a giant spider web in the door way leading up to my landing. No spider. "Well that's just disgusting" I said (out loud of course...I seem to have lost the ability for internal dialogue these days) and went up to get my broom to remove the offensive thing from the door frame. As I come down the stairs...I see it. It drops down to the middle of the web, turned it's head, saw me, and started to drop down a little further, like he wanted a better look.

And yes, I shrieked like a banshee and hightailed it back up the stairs almost in tears.

Okay. Go ahead. Have yourself a good laugh at my expense.

This thing was HUGE. A monster, really. I think it was about as big around as a half dollar (this is NOT including it's legs...)

Well--what happened next, I'm not proud of.

I keep a bottle of Ortho Home Defense right outside on my front porch. I spray around my light fixtures and such as it keeps moths and other stupid buggy type things away from my house. This stuff is simply amazing. It works for weeks at a time. Awesome, right? Right. So, I grab my bottle and before I lose my nerve, I run back down the stairs, bottle raised like a weapon and start spraying. It was like a scene out of Natural Born Killers and I was the one leading the massacre.

I sprayed at the spider dead (ha ha) center on its web--and he almost immediately fell to the ground. *Cough* *Hack* he seemed to be saying as he stumbled drunkenly around on the concrete. I kept spraying "Die! Why won't you just die!?"

I pleaded with him to give up. About two minutes of spraying later (Yes--overkill.I'm totally aware of this.), he did. And I was relieved.

Until I turned around and saw another big hairy monster glaring at my back.

Needless to say, there was another round of spraying, this one not quite so long due to the fact that there was a chemical lake on the landing that nothing could have survived a swim through, no matter how determined. I then sprayed the nasty looking nest like web this guy had crawled out of and snuck back upstairs.

This morning, as I left for work, I noticed all remnants of the spiders were gone--had been cleared away as if they had never even been there.

And god willing, they never will be again.

At least not until I can get another bottle of bug spray. It would seem I'm out at the moment.

Honest answers--there's a reason no one wants to hear them...

So the other day--I was presented with a question that I was, at first, stumped to answer:

"What are you looking for in, you know, a guy?"

My first response was flippant (as usual)--"That when we go to dinner, he doesn't call to check in with his wife...” ba-dum-dum.

I then went on to say the stuff that we are expected to say: A nice person, caring, responsible, blah, blah, blah. (Hey--it least it wasn't that Jerry McGuire line of BS of "someone who completes me...” That would be a conjoined twin--and be thankful you don't have one. That not the case? Then you should head to a shrink because you have serious issues with your self esteem if you base your idea of happiness on a second rate Hollywood crap fest. God--people are so lame. Huh. Guess I'm not helping any with that, am I?)

But really? Truly? Hmm. After much pondering, I realized what I should have said to my buddy:

I want someone who enjoys unloading the dishwasher. I have no problems cooking, cleaning up after dinner, etc-but if the dishwasher needs unloading--it is all suddenly "too much" work. I will cram dirty dishes in with clean just so I don't have to unload the stupid thing which, in my kitchen, takes all of two seconds. I can't explain it--but there you have it.

Next on the list--laundry putter-upper. I actually enjoy doing laundry. I don't even mind ironing napkins, table cloths and the like. But--putting clean laundry away? It's. Pure. Torture. Aaaagh. Why do I have so many damn clothes??! That need to be put away? They are neatly folded, mind you (I do not wad things up in a basket. They are folded as soon as they come out of the dryer--the key to avoiding wrinkles), but put up? Hmm. Is someone coming over? Then yes. Begrudgingly.

There are other little things. Like a person who would just sigh bemusedly as they water the plants (I am prone to forget plants require such attention..I love gardening--but I'm not so good at the upkeep). Oh! And run the vacuum a few times a week..I LOATHE the vacuum. I can't explain it. I do it....but I hate every stinking second of it. I'd rather scrub a floor on my hands and knees than vacuum. Funnier still? The vacuum hates me, too. Don't ask.

It sounds like I want a maid. Hmmm. That's not true--I guess someone that's cool in sharing the mundane, because let's be honest...it can't be heart thumping sweaty fun time all the time. Damn. Just writing those words makes me sad...very sad. Sigh.

Also? He doesn't yell at me because of wilted pansies or the sight of me sneaking dirty dishes in with the clean..just because I'm too much of a bum to unload the damn thing. No. He will shake his head and wonder "what did I do to deserve this awesomeness that is my life?"

I don't know--but it must have been good.