If I Don’t Write Something, I’ll Never Write Again
Posted by: clineek15 on: February 1, 2010
Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I keep telling myself I’ll write again when I feel “inspired,” but each day that goes by makes me lose more and more interest in writing in my blog. So hell with it! I must get something down on paper, even if it’s not good. So here is my, hopefully not futile, attempt at writing another post.
Bad news: remember my entry about attending NYCs 2010 Fashion Week? Well, folks, that aint happenin no more. I’d been waiting oh so patiently for my free VIP passes to arrive, and have I seen sign of them? No. Fashion week is a week from this Thursday, so I highly doubt they will be arriving. I guess it was too good to be true, and I should have trusted my instincts that my BF’s friend was a shady ass douchebag.
On the upside, I have Kathy Griffin at Madison Square Garden to look forward to on February 18! Wahoo. I’ve always wanted to watch a live comedy show, though, back in the day, my dream was to become the next Margaret Cho. That doesn’t seem to be happening in the near future either.
Two weekends ago, I went snowboarding for the first time. Let’s just say, snowboarding is not my forte and never will be. I spent more time on my butt than in any other position. I’ve lost all sense of coordination and balance (and yet, I used to be a gymnast). Tisk tisk. Let’s not forget the part about me being out of shape too. I was heaving like a fat cow just trying to put on my boots, nevermind, climbing up the hill, only to plop down to regain energy and breath. I saw little 3-year olds zoom down past me, fearless, while I struggled to stand without slipping and falling to my face. But despite the bruises, the pain, and the embarrassment, snowboarding was a positive challenge for me, and I shall attempt it again!
On a completely random and last note, I’ve discovered my passion in life: to write graphic sex novels. I’m totally not kidding either. I’ve dabbled in that field before and may decide to continue on with my rediscovered passion. Haha. Who ever knew, huh? 
The Day Santa Died
Posted by: clineek15 on: December 9, 2009
If there’s any child who truly believed in Santa and all the wonderful things he did every year for Christmas, it was me. Everytime I heard my parents say, “you better be good or Santa’s going to leave you a lump of coal in your stocking”, I really took that to heart and did my best to be a good kid throughout the year. Everytime I caught myself complaining or whining about something trivial or begging to have the new Barbie Fold ‘n Fun House after my mother repeatedly said no, I thought of Santa.
Whenever December 1 came around, I couldn’t wait to bust out my special Christmas calendar. It was made of cloth and had little protruding gold buttons. There were 25 buttons, and for every day that passed, I’d get to hang a little Christmas figure/ornament. Christmas couldn’t come fast enough!
And now, I’m sure most of you remember the butterflies and the tummy turns the night before Christmas. We used to bake Santa’s cookies from scratch and spend that evening decorating, frosting, and sprinkling them. I’d only leave Santa the prettiest cookies and save the ugly/burnt ones for myself or my family. I always figured Santa deserved the best, seeing how he managed to fly through the night and deliver presents to every child around the world.
After being tucked in by my parents, it took, what seemed, an eternity to fall asleep. I’d lay awake with these visions of Santa and his reindeer. Had I been a naughty child, I would have tip toed down the stairs and waited until he arrived, but my parents made it very clear that Santa only came when children were asleep, and that’s when I would calmly doze off and dream of presents and good food.
There was nothing more exciting than the sound of my mom or dad coming into my room to say, “Merry Christmas. You should see what Santa did…” I was out of that bed in a snap. I used to practically slide down my stairs and run straight to my stocking and dump out the contents. They were mostly stuffed with little treats, snacks, sometimes an orange or apple (that was random), but the best part was going into the piano room (where we put up the Christmas tree) to see the massive number of presents exploding from underneath. Sometimes, there were so many presents, they didn’t all fit under the tree and would be stacked under our piano. I was spoiled rotten, yes, I admit it. When it came to Christmas, I don’t think my parents really held back.
Year after year, Christmas always came around and always brought just as much enjoyment and excitement as the previous year. The emotions, the childhood innocence were all there. It was at the age of 11 or 12, I believe, when I lost my faith in Santa, mainly because of my mother. We were shopping around somewhere, and I don’t remember what it was that I wanted, but I was begging for it. My mother told me to ask Santa and maybe he’ll get it for me.
Once Christmas came around, my mom and I were wrapping gifts down in the basement when I accidentally stumbled upon the gift I had been begging for earlier that year. I told my mom to take it back because Santa was going to get it for me, and that’s when she explained there was no Santa. There was actually no explanation. It was simply, “wrap your gift and write: To Erica/From Santa, and when you open it, you have to act surprised so Daddy doesn’t find out”.
And when Christmas day arrived, I was not as excited, and when opening gifts from “Santa”, I then realized my Santa was my parents. It all made sense. Why did Santa’s handwriting look exactly like my Mom and Dad’s? They used to tell me he was smart and could imitate handwriting. And why, in my stocking, was there a pack of pens I’d bought earlier but was told to save until Christmas.
Santa died that day! He didn’t fly through the night to give me presents! He didn’t squeeze his fat butt down my chimney and eat the cookies I’d spent so long making and decorating! He didnt’ keep a record of the naughty and the nice! It was my parents.
Though I’m grateful for being showered with gifts during my childhood Christmases, it was a sad realization that Santa was just someone to believe in to make Christmas a magical experience. This is not to say my parents didn’t continue with the plethora of presents. It just took me a while to remind myself that Santa was never real, but it was fun while it lasted.
Nowadays, as an adult (supposedly), Christmas comes too soon. It just kind of sneaks up on me, and I’m caught unprepared with no gifts for people. Well, I shop last minute. That’s my problem. The month of December just kind of zooms by, and before you know it, it’s January 1.
2010. I’m going to have a hard time adjusting to writing 1/1/10. For the past nine years, we’ve been so accustomed to writing dates where zero came first in the last 2 digits of the year: 1/1/01, 1/1/07. I’m definitely going to have a lot of typos for the first few weeks, I’m sure.
Anyways, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. Just want to wish everyone a safe December! Enjoy the Ugly Sweater parties, Christmas cocktail get-togethers, and Christmas itself. I’m sure I’ll make another post before Christmas…I hope.
Happy 1 Year (A Guinness World Recorld)
Posted by: clineek15 on: October 10, 2009
I usually don’t post entries during the weekend (well, from the looks of it, I haven’t been posting much of anything recently), but since today is a special day, and I’m sitting at the laundromat waiting for clothes to wash, I figured I’d share the happy day with everyone.
Today marks one year since I said “yes, I’ll be your girlfriend”. Not only has this been my longest relationship of all time, it has also been the most trying, emotionally draining relationship I’ve had to endure, but it’s all been worth it. I can’t remember a time I’ve felt happier (minus my blissful days as a kid, getting pampered by daddy and mommy). I’ve learned to open up, confront (not 100% but I’m getting there), and state my mind when need be. My boyfriend has done nothing but treat me with the utmost respect, be freakishly patient with me, and remind me every single day that I’m his princess.
Every day has felt like a new day with him, and now looking back at when we first met, I’m thinking of how I still get the jitters when I get to see him. Now, on the downside, I’ve kind of let myself go a little in terms of my physical appearance. I really am starting to resemble a Beluga whale and could definitely use a gym. But the point is, he’s the only person (aside from good friends and family) that has made me feel 110% comfortable in my skin, and I really love him for that.
I’ve had people tell me, sure he’ll be nice to me now (anything to get his Green Card), but five years down the line, he could turn into an abusive husband, a cheater, and a bad man. Sure, that could happen, and yes I’m probably the most naive person when it comes to love and relationships, but I’m willing to take those chances. I really can’t explain why I know he’s right for me, nor do I feel I have to, and despite his less than perfect ability to speak English (though, it has improved greatly since we first met), I have an understanding with him that I don’t think I can find with anybody else.
I’m not talking about the whole “he’s the ONE” nonsense. I don’t believe in that stuff. I’m just saying he’s right for me, not necessarily Mr. Right. For everything he’s done and everything he’s been for me, I’m very grateful. He’s the best boyfriend in the world (said in a teeny bopper “oh my gosh” kind of tone)!
4th of July on the Esplanade
It’s All About the Connections
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 28, 2009
I dress like a hobo. I wear outdated muumuus and skirts with elastic waists. I wear old worn down JCrew flipflops that no longer have any traction on the bottoms. I find this all very funny because next February, I will be attending NYC’s Fashion Week with a free VIP pass.
Now, the questions you may be asking are, “why are you, of all people, attending fashion week” and “how the hell did you, of all people, get a free pass into the show?” The simple answer is, “connections.” My boyfriend’s very good friend knows one of the designers for Emanuel Ungaro (never even heard of the line), and he sent her an e-mail letting her know I’d be interested in attending, and VOILA: 2 free passes bestowed upon me (well, I don’t have them yet).
I’m actually very excited. Sure, I’m no fashionista, but I’d be interested in seeing a live fashion show. Also, this may motivate me to lose some weight so I don’t look like a beluga whale next to the emaciated models and other fashionistas at the show.
This situation got me thinking about the whole “connections” bit. I’ve come to believe that a lot in life is all about who you know and what they can do for you. Let’s take my current job, for instance. The summer right after I graduated, I was working a customer service rep job at an insurance company. It was a 9-6 job, constantly on the phone with customers, helping them figure out which insurance policy is best for them. I think it trained me well in terms of dealing with the angries, the talk-too-muchies, the happies, and the various other personality types out there. It certainly wasn’t a job I wanted to stick with in the long run.
Luckily, my manager at that company took note of the fact that I was an aspiring writer/editor. She knew the insurance gig was my first job out of college and not my dream job. Thus, she referred me to the company where I now work because her husband works here. I sent in my resume/cover letter to the manager here and immediately got an in-person interview. I ended up starting the job a week later.
Now, the type of work I do (technical editing) is most likely something you could find in the ads list in a newspaper, but the point is, this particular position at my company was not posted. It was something I happened to find through my connections and am, to this day, still very grateful.
I guess what I’m trying to say is….I should continue to be more social and network as much as possible without looking like I’m only trying to befriend these people for the sole purpose of having that connection. It’s hard though. I’m no expert at making new friends. 
Anecdote of a Homeless Man
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 21, 2009
I was approached by a homeless man last night who asked me to do a little role playing with him. I had been standing outside with my BF during his work break when I noticed a man walking up the street towards us, attempting to talk with other walking pedestrians who would sway to the other side and brisky walk past him. As he came towards us, he stopped and stared. Then a big smile took over his face as he shook his head a little and looked down at the ground mumbling, “Ah…young lovebirds…to be young and in love”. He then took a few steps closer and asked, “May I have permission to come closer?” Confused, my BF and I nodded our heads in approval and allowed the friendly stranger to enter our comfort bubble. He then asked if he could say something (it ended up being a story).
He said, “a love like yours…aint no one gonna take that away from you…aint no one gonna say NO.” Then he said, “hold up, hold up. I want you guys to do something for me. You (pointing to my BF) are me for a second, and you (pointing to me) are…well, you”. The man then said, “now, I love you, and you love me. Do you know what this means? It means I take your hand, get down on my knees and say, ‘Cynthia, I want you to be my wife’.” He actually took my hand and got down on his knees on the sidewalk and reinacted his proposal to his, now deceased, wife. He then said, “And you wanna know what her response was? ‘WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG TO ASK’ is what she said to me”. He continued, “you wanna know the greatest part of it all?” The BF and I gave the deer-in-headlights look, as if to say, please continue. He said, “I made her a United States citizen and aint no one gonna take that away from her because that was my gift to her. That was the gift of love.” He mentioned he was in the Vietnam War and had met this beautiful Chinese woman 20 years his senior, but despite the age difference, they fell in love and got married. He said when he came back to the states and introduced his wife to his parents, their response was “What the hell is that? (referring to her being Chinese)”. He was of African American descent, and from the way he told his story, it was pretty obvious his parents did not approve of his choice in bride.
He then continued about how everything was wonderful and great until they had children (7 to be exact). He said, “children…those things can be such trouble”. He was saying how they were still very much in love, but everything was different because of the kids. Haha. Then the man kind of abruptly ended his story saying how, “my wife gave me 7 kids, and now, god rest her soul, I have buried her at the age of 85. She died of cancer.” There was no really no transition, so the BF and I were slightly taken aback. But to end his story, he looked at me and my BF and said again, “Aint no one gonna take away the love you two share…nobody.” We thanked him for his touching story, and he continued on his way down the street, mumbling incoherent nothings under his breath.
After he left, I couldn’t stop smiling. For someone who’s homeless and has nothing, his story-telling skills were incredibly passionate and heartfelt. Who knows if his story was even true, but either way, it made my night. Thank you, homeless man on Cambridge Street.
Please note: the quotations from this man are not verbatim, but they’re pretty close to everything he was saying. 
Spitting In The Wind
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 18, 2009
A major pet peeve of mine is when people spit on the street or out their car windows. It really irks me. It’s like, come on, you have an esophagus, the ability to swallow. Just suck it up and swallow! I’m sorry if you’ve just smoked a pack of cigarettes and your saliva has a foul taste, but please, no need to spread that nasty wad of no-good nonsense onto the streets. It’s dirty enough as is.
With that said, I hang my head in shame as I admit I attempted to do the same last night, except, I was trying to spit my gum out the window while driving in my car. Actually, it’s WORSE! Not only was I trying to spit out the window, I was littering too. Well, for those of you who want to rebuke me for my attempted no-no, I proudly announce that it was a failure. Due to the fact that my window was not rolled down far enough, when I spat my gum, I spat with such force it bounced back against the window and hit me in the face and then fell down somewhere along the side of my driver’s seat. Owned. I guess I got my comeuppance. Note to self: always keep tissue or old receipts in car in case of need to spit out gum.
My Calves Are Not Boot Friendly
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 17, 2009
My calves are colossal. It doesn’t help that I have cankles either. It’s like…you’re looking at my foot, and as your eyes wander up my leg (not that there should be any reason why anyone would do this), you suddenly get to my elephant sized calf. You’re wondering, where’s her ankle? There was no transition from her hobbit foot to her calf. Intersting. Or not.
I’ve always had plus-sized calves even though I’m not a plus-sized girl. Knee high boots have never worked for me (minus one lucky suede pair I found two winters ago). The type of boots that are slouchy and spacious around the calves on most girls are like XS spandex on me: tight and cutting off circulation.
I was at DSW searching for booties last night, since obviously, anything that goes higher than my ankle will not fit. I did, however, find these pair of Chinese Laundry over-the-knee leather boots that looked huge. I mean, the shaft looked like it could fit my upper thigh, so as I sat down to try them on, I slowly began to pull the leather boot up my leg. The material was getting tighter and tighter as it went further up my leg, but surprisingly, it made it past my knee. But let me tell you, the material was so tight around my calf, my skin was basically one with the leather. The style of the boot was supposed to be loose slouchy, and yet, there I was in it, looking like a dominatrix. All I needed were handcuffs and a whip to complete the outfit. When I tried to “slide” it off (the way it should), I found myself in a difficult situation. It was stuck. You know how sometimes you force a ring onto your finger, knowing you’ll need soap and water to get it off? Well, that was like me with this leather boot, except I had no soap and water. There I was frantically trying to get it off, but my calf had swelled, and I began to sweat from nervousness, which only made it harder to get off because my skin became sticky. I ended up having to dig my fingers under the material and peel it off my leg, pushing it down my leg inch my inch, scratching my skin with my nails as I did it. Needless to say, I opted not to purchase the damn boots, for my sake and for the public’s sake.
My efforts were not futile though! I ended the night with 3 new pairs of shoes: 2 pairs of leather booties and a pair of nice simple black leather pointed heels. I’m set for the winter.
My Hibernating Capillaries
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 16, 2009
Is it odd that I get incredibly itchy when I start doing any sort of exercise (not that I’ve been to a gym in ages)? Whenever I’m speed walking (unintentionally) and my heart rate goes up a bit, I find that my legs and waist start to itch like crazy. I then scratch myself like an unbathed dirty homesless bum, resulting in raised eyebrows and crinkled foreheads from the people around me.
I was googling this mysterious itchy issue and found this randomly online:
“Itchy skin usually occurs during exercise performed after a long period of inactivity. The itching is not on the skin, it’s inside the actual limbs. There are millions of tiny capillaries and arteries inside our muscles which expand rapidly due to the demand for more blood that is brought on by exercise. When fit, these capillaries remain open allowing maximum blood passage, but when unfit and inactive they tend to collapse, allowing only minimal blood passage (which is sufficient for a sedentary person however). The rapid expansion of these vessels causes adjacent nerves to send impulses back to the brain which are interpreted as an itch. That’s why after a few sessions the sensation tends to go away. Just another indication of increasing fitness levels.”
Alright then. It looks like I have my answer. My capillaries are practically closed and in hibernation mode, and the moment I do anything to up the blood flow in my body, they’re like “whoa whoa now, what’s goin onnn?” So then, the poor little capillilaries must open themselves to enable sufficient blood flow, and for some reason, my brain think my body is itchy. How nice.
I wonder how much exercise (and how long) it’ll take for my capillaries to snap out of it and stay open, so I won’t get so itchy when working out. Well, I guess the better question is when I’ll actually start doing any sort of heart pumping activity. If I’m going to be scratching myself like a wild baboon at the gym, I would just prefer not going. Maybe I’ll just run in place in my room until I get over the itch…then I can head to the gym for some real exercise. BOO to itchiness.
Some People Should Have to Apply to Have Babies
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 15, 2009
The other night while eating at the cafe where my boyfriend works, this rather large black woman dressed in a “people of Walmart” type of outfit came stumbling in with her 3- or 4-year old son. She was beyond inebriated and could barely keep her eyes open. Oh, and let me add that she came in smoking her cigarette. My boyfriend politely mentioned there’s no smoking inside the cafe, and she gave him the snapping-turtle hand gesture and said “you don’t get to tell me what to do” and placed her cigarette on the counter, still lit. Her little boy wanted an ice cream, which she was unable to say herself. The boy was chanting “ice cream! ice cream!” While she got a pink lemonade from the fridge, her son had run into the back where my BF prepares the food and makes the ice cream, and this oh-so-wonderful mother was too sloshed to even notice. I had the misfortune of watching her pour out half of her pink lemonade into the trash and fill up the rest with a small flask of vodka. Great role model. Great mother. I shake my head in disgust at people like that.
Some people really need to apply to be able to have children. Those who aren’t suitable parents should be required to have hysterectomies and vasectomies. Too many unfit mothers are having too many babies who are then raised poorly and usually end up following in the footsteps of their parents. The viscious cycle continues…
So You Think You Can Scam Me, Mrs. White?
Posted by: clineek15 on: September 2, 2009
Please read e-mail below to avoid being scammed! GRRRR…I’m so tired of scammers.
From: Mrs. Sylvia White
375 Jackson Road,
Wimbledon, LONDON,
SW19 5DQ
United Kingdom.
My Dear Beloved,
I am the above named person but now undergoing medical treatment in Barnes Hospital, Wellhouse Lane, Barnet, England, EN5 3DJ. I am married to Sir Gerald White who worked with British Judicial Commission in Chelsea England for over a decade before he died on 5th of July in the year 2007. We were married for fifteen years without a child. He died after a brief illness that lasted for two weeks. Before his death he made a vow to use his wealth for the down trodden and the less privileged in the society. Since his death I decided not to re-marry or get a child outside my matrimonial home.When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of £4 Million (Four Million Pounds sterling) with one Finance/Bank in Europe. Presently, this money is still with the Bank. Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next 4 months due to a rare form of cancer of the pancreas. Though what disturbs me most is my stroke. Having known my condition I decided to donate this fund to an individual or better still a God fearing person who will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein.
I want an individual that will use this to fund and provide succor to poor and destitute persons, orphanages, and widows and for propagating peace in the universe. I understand that blessed is the hand that giveth. I took this decision because I don’t have a child who will inherit this money and my husband’s relatives are not inclined to helping poor persons and I do not want my husband’s hard earned money to be misused or spent in the manner in which my late husband did not specify.
Hence, the reason for taking this bold decision. I am not afraid of death since I know where I am going.I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Almighty. I do not need any telephone communication in this regard because of my health, and because of the presence of my husband’s relatives around me always. I do not want them to know about this development. I will also be most glad if you can tell me a little about yourself.Hoping to hear from you.
With God all things are possible As soon as I receive your reply I shall give you the contact of the Finance/Security Company in Europe. I will also issue you a letter of authority that will empower you as the original beneficiary of this fund. I implore you to always pray for me. My happiness is that I lived a life worthy of emulation. Whosoever that wants to serve the Almighty must serve him with all his heart and mind and soul and also in truth. You can contact me with your positive response.
Email: mrssylviawhite@gmail.com
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. Sylvia White
Okay, seriously. What kind of e-mail is this? But I guess the more appropriate question is, what kind of person actually responds to this?
I felt compelled to e-mail back saying, “The ‘Almighty” would be disappointed in your wrongdoings, and btw, God doesn’t have a bosom. It’s a HE”. But then, that would make me the the idiot for even responding and giving them the chance to take note of my e-mail address. I shake my head in disgust at these people.
During my apartment search via Craigslist, I couldn’t believe how many scams were posted. Me, being naive and ridiculous, actually responded to one of them. Totally forgot about the whole “too good to be true” theory and thought, “what the heck…we are in a recession.” WRONG! It was some woman asking that I send her my credit score, and she provided a link where I could get a free credit report. After going on the website (I had never done a credit report), I actually put down my card number, thinking that’s how they retrieved information regarding your credit. Only after I received my fake credit score did I start to question what I had just done. Per the advice of several friends, the conclusion was I had been scammed. Immediately, I called and cancelled my card and never responded back to the scammer who probably already retrieved card information from the fake link he/she sent me. I shake my head at myself. Stupid stupid Erica!
Anyways, phew. What a way to start an entry after not having written in months. So, first off, GREETINGS! Secondly and more importantly, I’ve moved into a new apartment! I’d been living in my old run-down-sad-excuse-for-a building for the past two years and eventually grew frustrated and tired of the poor management. I don’t think anybody had come to clean the general public area of the building in a year. For months, I couldn’t do laundry in the basement because of the layer of RAT FECES covering the floor. It was incredibly disgusting, not to mention unsanitary.
So, after a month of furiously searching apartments, I have finally settled down in a fantastic 3-story house (but still apartment style). I have three roommates who seem very chill and down to earth. This move was very refreshing and almost felt like the start of a new life, if you will. The only thing I have left to do is unpack and sort out the miscellaneous junk in my boxes.
Let’s see. There’s plenty to talk about, but I don’t want there to be too much random information to digest in this one long entry (blame the e-mail).
Right now, I’m currently without any make-up. No face powder, nothing. They’re all stored in some box that I was too lazy to sort through, so now, I’m sitting here with a face that reflects light as I’m walking down the hallways. Plus, my cheeks are extremely rosy, and by rosy, I don’t mean this in a good way. It’s a blotchy and uneven tone of rosiness that makes me look like my cheeks alone baked in the sun for hours without sunblock.
I currently am recovering from the worst hemorrhoid. TMI (too much info) for most people, I’m sure, but those who know me know that I’m always having some sort of hemorrhoidal issue. But the one I got a few days ago from moving was probably caused by the “heavy lifting” I did trying to move huge boxes and tons of trash out of my old apartment. It was excruciating to sit, to drive, to stand, to bend over, and to walk. So basically, it was painful to be alive and in existence. At work, all I could daydream about was a donut: not Dunkin Donuts, a donut cushion to sit on and ease the stress off my protruding lump of flesh. Thankfully, it’s a lot better today, and the pain isn’t constant. Though, I still walk with my butt jutting out a bit, like I got a new bootie. Hopefully by the end of this week, I’ll be fully recovered.
That’s all for today, friends. I love how the entry started off with a warning about scam e-mails and ended with something involving a toosh ailment.
Moody Monday
Posted by: clineek15 on: January 26, 2009
Song of the Moment: “Kalp Kalbe Karşı” – Enbe-Ferhat Göçer (a song my bf posted on my FB wall a while back)
This is what happens when I don’t make daily posts. I lose track of the interesting things I want to talk about, and by the time I make my next post, you’d expect it to be something big and grand, but no, I’m left with NOTHING to talk about. Let’s see what I can dig up from my foggy memory. This entry may jump around because I’m going to do a bit of freestyle writing…just kind of writing as my thoughts come out without organizing them, so bear with me.
Ok, you all know I like to share my dreams, especially when they’re borderline crazy. So, the other night, I dreamt I had a pet lobster named Ricardo who kept pinching the 10 inches of fat covering my triceps. In my dream, my friend, Helen, was telling me she had never seen a lobster before, and I go, “you know what’s funny. I can show you Ricardo.” And she asks who Ricardo is, and I inform her it’s my pet lobster. But in this dream, I suppose it was normal for people to have pet lobsters because she gave me no look of confusion. I brought Ricardo down on a leash, and he waddled his way towards Helen the way a puppy does when it sees a new stranger. Helen picked up Ricardo’s bony structured body and started petting him, but he started getting too fiesty, pinching our flab of skin under our triceps, and I guess I just snapped. We both got so upset that we dragged Ricardo up to the kitchen and threw him in boiling water and ate him for dinner. The end. EW. I don’t even like lobster! What is this dream telling me? I’m an animal abuser? I’m a sociopath? Well, get this…
So, two days later (yesterday morning), I was driving back from dropping off my boyfriend at work, and as I was driving down this alley, a cat lept right in front of my car, and I felt the *thump thump*. I looked in my rear view mirror, and I saw the cat’s lifeless body just lying on the street. UGH! How terrible! I certainly hope that cat wasn’t someone’s pet. If it was, how stupid of the owner to let a cat roam free in a city. Poor cat. I don’t even like cats, but feeling the thump of my tires rolling over its body was not a warm and tingly feeling for me…yick.
My brain is clearly still in hibernation from the weekend. I got to work this morning and opened my iTunes list and started clicking on songs to listen to, but I couldn’t understand why I was unable to adjust the volume and why my earphones kept blasting Korean music when those weren’t the songs I was selecting. About 30 seconds later, I realized I had been connected to my iPod the whole time. I-D-I-O-T. It was even more crazy of me because I started slamming my mouse around on my desk (and I don’t have a mouse pad).
I’m having a moody Monday. It’s probably best I stop writing now and return again tomorrow. GOOD DAY!
100 Day Anniversary
Posted by: clineek15 on: January 21, 2009
Song of the Moment: “Shape of My Heart” – Sting
I think this celebration is an “Asian thing”, but yesterday was our 100 day anniversary (by “our”, I clearly mean, my boyfriend and me). I even know some people who celebrate one month, but 100 days, 6 months, 1 year and so forth will suffice.
Anyways. It was nothing all that special. I gave him a gift on Facebook (because I’m broke), and then we went out to a nice little Italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant on Newbury St. It had been a while since we had gone out on a date date to a nice restaurant, so to see his face in the dim candle lit ambience was quite nice. I indulged in my butternut squash stuffed raviolis while he delighted in his shrimp scampi. We ended the night with tiramisu and a cranberry orange glazed cheesecake. After that, we wanted to walk around a bit to digest, but it was just too effing cold, plus I was slipping everywhere with my no-traction boots. So, we just cabbed it home and called it a night. It was plain and simple but a night worth noting.
Valentine’s Day is coming up soon, but I’m thinking instead of going out on V-Day itself (where menus have fixed prices that are like $100 per person), we should go out the night before and save some money. I really don’t find anything all that spectacular about Valentine’s Day, seeing how, historically speaking, it was a day where people got massacred, but I figure, if I’ve got that significant other, why not take advantage of that one couple’s day and parade around town with all the other couples and act like we’re invincible. Eh, it will be fun.
It’s Hump Day all you happy humpers! I can’t wait for the weekend for some reason. Nothing particularly exciting is going to happen, not that I even have plans as of yet, but I still look forward to it. Woot woot!
My First Rectal Exam/Me Spotting the Ex-Beau
Posted by: clineek15 on: January 19, 2009
Song of the Moment: “La Vida es un Carnaval” – Celia Cruz
The past few days have certainly be interesting.
Friday afternoon, I left work early to see my doctor for an “emergency” appointment. I had been having severe lower abdominal pains for the past two days and didn’t want to wait any longer. It turns out, my doctor was out on vacation, so the assistant put me with another doctor. A little Indian man waltzes in and asks what the problem seems to be, and I tell him of my terrible cramps in my stomach, and how I’ve been having them since highschool. All this time, I always associated them with menstral cramps (even though I got them when I was off my cycle too), but as I pin pointed the area in which the pain afflicts me, the doctor told me I probably have Irritable Bowel Syndrom (IBS). Though, he wants to rule out the possibility of anything else, so I must get a CT-scan, an endoscopy, and a colonoscopy before he can be 100% sure that it’s IBS.
The best part of my check-up was when he asked if my primary care physician had done a rectal exam on me. I thrusted my head back a little and tentatively squeaked out a “no”. He then asked, “do you mind if I perform one on you”? Eh, I didn’t feel totally comfortable, but I felt it was necessary and didn’t want to be a pain in the butt (no pun intended). He stepped out of the room while I prepared myself, and when he came back in, he asked me to lie on my side. He squirted some lubricant in that area and then proceeded to insert his index finger into my butt hole. Um, I think I screamed on the inside. It’s not that it was particularly painful, but the feeling was incredibly uncomfortable. I seriously felt like I was going to go #2 right on his hand. Anyways, the point is, it kind of hurt, and he made my butt hole bleed. Due to the fact that I may have IBS, he also recommended I drink a glass of Metamucil every night before I go to bed. Yuck.
Oh, and he also had me do this 24 hour urine sample test. Starting at 8am yesterday up until 8am this morning, I had to urinate into this giant orange container and keep it in the refrigerator. Mmm, appetizing. I had to warn my roommate not to touch/drink the contents within the bright orange container.
So, that’s a little update on my health, if you will. Now, Saturday night, my boyfriend and I went to this club for his friend’s VIP birthday party, and guess who I spotted? Ding ding ding! You guessed it: the ex-boyfriend. Funny how my friend spotted him the weekend before at some fancy Jewish party, and this past weekend, I spot him at a skanky club where guys are only looking for girls to take home. I can hardly imagine anybody being at that club to have fun because the music was absolutely wretched. It actually put me in a bad mood. If I were a single girl there, I’d probably want to make out with a guy and go home with him too, anything to make up for the boring time I had at the club. Anyways, my boyfriend and I were wandering the dance floor, and then suddenly, he pulls on my arm and turns me around. It was then that I noticed the ex-bf. It’s funny how my boyfriend recognized him first (pictures from my computer). He proceeded to pull me towards the ex-bf for reasons I do not know. To talk? To fight? I don’t know, but I was just in no mood to make any sort of conversation, so I ran into the other dance room. My boyfriend came following after me a minute later, and I really thought he was going to start a fight with the ex-bf. I am not one who seeks any sort of negative attention, so I did my best to assuage my boyfriend’s anger. One, he was tired (having worked 78 hours that week) and two, he had a few too many drinks, so it’s understandable that he’d be a bit hostile towards the ex-bf. No, I didn’t talk to him, and no, I didn’t throw or have anybody throw drinks on him. It would have been a waste of my breath and a waste of a $10 drink on somebody not even worth it. So, as disappointed as you all may be, I just left the situation as is. Haha. I’m such a pansy.
Anyways, that’s just a little update to my life. La vida es un carnaval!!
I’ve Gotten Stupider (got stupid?)
Posted by: clineek15 on: January 16, 2009
Song of the Moment: “Untouched” – The Veronicas (nevermind the weird MV)
I realize I’ve become incredibly stupid since graduating college. Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s stupidity or a stroke. Yes, a stroke. Everytime I read the symptom, “sudden confusion, troubling speaking or understanding,” I think of how that’s me on a daily basis. Sometimes someone will be talking to me about something, and I’m looking at them, listening (or I think I am), but when they ask me a question, I give the deer-in-headlights look and crinkle my nose and in a deep manly unattractive tone, I go, “HUH?” Or, sometimes I’ll be the one speaking about a topic, and midsentence, I’ll just stop abruptly and stare into the distance, completely forgetting what I wanted to say, and if I don’t stop speaking, my words and sentences just become a big jumble of mumbling. Example: “So, oh my gosh guys, the other day I was walking down the street and I saw this person fa*()#&$98jwh(*&, and it was weird…yeah.” I swear, my brain is rebelling.
A few nights ago, my friend and I were watching Nip/Tuck, but I had to depart early to go pick up my bf from work. The next day, I meant to ask my friend what the cliff hanger was at the end of the show, but instead, I asked her, “Were there any hang gliders?” HANG GLIDERS. Come on, Erica. That’s unacceptable. My friend asked me what a “hang glider” was, and as if I knew my shiznit, I go, “You know how at the end of shows they end it leaving you at the edge of your seat, so you have to wait until the next episode?” My god, I need school again. How classy of it would be for me to say, “I’ve gotten stupider”. Then you really know I need to go back to elemetary school.
Alrighty dighties, folks. TGIF, even though it feels like -5 degrees out. I got my ring resized, so it fits and all, but when I’m out in the cold, my finger shrinks and my ring starts to roll around, but when I enter buildlings, they swell and then my finger ends up looking like a sausage exploding out of my ring. NOT ATTRACTIVE. Enjoy the weekend!
The Ex-Beau Spotted At a Cocktail Party
Posted by: clineek15 on: January 14, 2009
I am back! Well, sort of. I didn’t actually go anywhere, but I just mean to say that I am back on my blog. Unfortunately, I feel this entry will not be as exciting as some of you have hoped, seeing how I haven’t posted in over a week. I don’t know what it is, but I just don’t have anything to write about! This is a serious case of writer’s block, I tell ya. Though, I will share a funny story I heard over the weekend from a friend of mine.
For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while, do you remember the story of my most recent ex-boyfriend? I had made a post about him last June when we were still together (now deleted), and he found it (because I had put his full name in the entry and when you Google it, my blog came up on the search engine), along with several other girls who left me messages telling me that they were dating him too and that he was cheating on me (and them, of course). That was certainly the shock of my life, seeing how I was with him for 10 months and had spent my time and energy finding him an apartment when he returned from Japan.
Anyways, the point is, I became friends with two of the girls who were dating him, and they’re fun and amazing girls (who wouldn’t want to date them?). So, one particular friend of mine attended a big Jewish cocktail party on Saturday night, and while I was out, I received a text from her saying that our ex-boyfriend was there. Now note that she hadn’t seen him in a year, and considering the circumstances and the past events, imagine how awkward and mind boggling it would be to spot him at a party.
I suggested she go up and say something to him. I mean, that would have been her chance to let him know the emotional turmoil he put her through and really just…say it how it is. Anyways, later that night, I received a text saying that one of her friends went up to him and threw her drink all over him. AHHH!!! Seriously, it was a movie moment image in my head when I read that text. Imagine being at a big fancy gathering and seeing a man get drenched in someone else’s drink. That’s something I’ve never witnessed in person, though, I would have given anything to have been at that party to see the ex get doused in an alcoholic mixer.
Well, there you have it. My pointless little story that, for me, I find highly amusing. I really promise I’ll try to come up with something a little more engaging and stimulating for the mind…next time, folks, next time.
First Entry of the New Year
Posted by: clineek15 on: January 5, 2009
Song of the Moment: Daniel Beddingfield – “If You’re Not the One”
I am back. A new year, a new entry. Happy 2009, everyone!
I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays. I certainly did. My brain was practically shut down for the past two weeks, and it was amazing. I came to work this morning forgetting how to work. I sat down at my desk and opened up a data sheet from my desktop and stared blankly as if it were my first day of work, and I hadn’t been trained yet. Plus, I then realized I had forgotten two of my most important data sheets at home, so clearly, my brain is still on vacation.
So what did I get for Christmas/B-Day (December 29)? I’ll name my two favorites: my new Canon Powershot IS SD1100 camera from my dad and a beautiful 14k white gold ring with diamonds embedded on the top, a gift from the bf. He surprised me with it right at midnight on New Year’s Day. I love it, though, I need to get it resized because it’s rolling around like crazy and may fall off my finger.
I’m not one to make New Year’s resolutions because I know I’ll never stick it it, but this year, I just have one. No, it’s not lose weight or be more responsible with my money (things I ought to do) but rather be more patient with people. In general, I am a very patient person, but lately, I’ve been getting very impatient over such trivial matters. I may not complain or make it known that I’m impatient, but inside, I’ll be fuming with anger. I need to stop that. The unnecessary stress and anger does no good for my health and well being. I’m trying to practice serenity. We’ll see how that goes.
Home in St. Louis was relaxing and just the kind of vacation I needed, a good dosage of family and friends. I’m glad my parents finally got to meet my boyfriend. My mom said he was not what she expected, and by that, she means it as a good thing. I think my parents are a little more relaxed now that they’ve met him face to face and were able to converse with him about their concerns. They just don’t want us to rush into anything. Good advice from any parents. We both need to study for grad school, so perhaps instead of spending our weekends going out, we must sacrifice and spend our time at the library studying. Oh boy. That’s going to be a tough transition.
Today Is Just Another Day
Posted by: clineek15 on: December 25, 2008
Merry Christmas to all my family, friends, and faithful blog readers! I’m sorry I’ve been MIA and haven’t posted in a little while. I’ve been busy with traveling, my cousin’s wedding, and being home in St. Louis. The homelife has been so relaxing, I’m not sure I’ll know how to get my mind back into working mode. We’re surprisingly not celebrating Christmas today since my mother couldn’t make it up. Instead, we’ll celebrate Christmas on my birthday, which happens to be in four days.
It feels weird to be bumming around today not cooking a Christmas feast or opening Christmas presents. Instead, I’ve been rotting on my couch stuffing a Costco sized tin bucket of Belgium chocolate cookies while watching an assortment of TV shows and movies, ranging from Law and Order to the 1989 Batman. The pimple right under my nose is slowly getting bigger and bigger with every chocolate cookie I cram down my face. I’m trying to enlarge it to the point where it’ll be ready to pop. I swear, if I get another pimple under my nose in that dip above my lip, I’m going to start wearing surgeon masks 24/7. That has got to be the most inconvenient spot ever, especially right now since I have a cold and I’m constantly blowing my noise, which irriates the pimple and makes it redder and more tender.
Anyways, enjoy the holidays everybody! I plan on stuffing myself silly until the New Year.
Globalization=Princess Diana’s Death
Posted by: clineek15 on: December 11, 2008
Song of the Moment: Ben E. King – “Stand by Me”
What is the truest definition of Globalization?
Answer:
Princess Diana’s death.
How come?
Answer :
An English princess with an Egyptian boyfriend crashes in a French tunnel, driving a German car with a Dutch engine, driven by a Belgian who was drunk on Scottish whisky (check the bottle before you change the spelling), followed closely by Italian Paparazzi on Japanese motorcycles; treated by an American doctor using Brazilian medicines.
This is sent to you by an American using Bill Gate’s technology, and you’re probably reading this on your computer that uses Taiwanese chips and a Korean monitor, assembled by Bangladeshi workers in a Singapore plant, transported by Indian lorry-drivers, hijacked by Indonesians, unloaded by Sicilian longshoremen, and trucked to you by Mexican illegals.
That, my friends, is Globalization.
I just thought I’d post another one of daddy’s e-mails. I could create a whole separate blog that simply has me copying and pasting interesting e-mails my father sends me. Haha.
Who Ever Knew a Kiss Could Cause Deafness?
Posted by: clineek15 on: December 10, 2008
Song of the Moment: Simon and Garfunkel – “The Sound of Silence”
Here’s an interesting article for the day, found on Yahoo news:
BEIJING (Reuters) – A young woman in southern China has partially lost her hearing after her boyfriend ruptured her eardrum during an excessively passionate kiss, local media reported Monday.
The 20-something girl from Zhuhai, in southern Guangdong province, went to hospital completely deaf in her left ear, the China Daily said, citing a report in a local newspaper.
“The kiss reduced pressure in the mouth, pulled the eardrum out and caused the breakdown of the ear,” the paper quoted a doctor surnamed Li from the hospital as saying.
The woman’s hearing would likely return to normal after about two months, Li said.
“While kissing is normally very safe, doctors advise people to proceed with caution,” the paper said.
Ok, so the only thing I can think about is the amount of drool that must have dripped into that poor woman’s ear. I mean, Q-tip away, but the slobber residue still remains. Nothing is worse than a sloppy kisser who slobbers and drools all over the place, not to mention, sucks out your ear drum and causes you to go deaf. Seriously, did this guy have his lips suctioned around her entire ear and then proceed to suck at it like a lollipop? Whatever the case, I sure hope the girl kicked him in the groin and dumped his sad loser butt and gave him a sign language we all understand, one that involves a finger, particularly the one in the middle of your hand.
It’s Finally Winter in Boston
Posted by: clineek15 on: December 8, 2008
Song of the Moment: Bobby Darin – “Dreamlover”
It’s colder than a witch’s boob in a brass brassiere out there, folks. This morning, weather.com said it felt like 0 degrees. I went out to start my car and started freaking out when I put it in reverse and it wouldn’t move. I tried to apply pressure to the gas pedal, but all my car did was make this loud weezing sound and produce a dark cloud of black smoke. It then occurred to me that my car’s engine was most likely frozen like cow meat in the freezer room. Thus, I waited a good ten minutes to warm up my car before it would move. I can already tell my car is going to be a stubborn little sucker this winter.
I really don’t have much else to talk about on this mundane Monday. I hope everybody had a relaxing weekend. I certainly did…hardly did much is what I mean to say. Though, I actually did some reading. Yes, it’s incredibly surprising, I know. I started The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It’s quite good, not to mention a good exercise for my idle brain. I think this is the first time I’ve read anything from a book since I graduated college. I kid you not. I mean, I read the news online, but to actually sit down (or in my case, lie down on my bed like a beached whale) and read a book, it’s been quite a while. I can’t even honestly say I read all my books during college. Haha.
On a random note, I have the two largest pimples I think I’ve ever had in my entire life of having pimple issues. One is smack in the middle of my cheek and the other one is oh-so-conveniently located right under my left eyebrow. They’re so large, they actually look like gangly warts. I totally look like a leper right now. I’m tempted to wrap the left side of my face in my pashmina and only reveal the right side of my face. No, that’s not weird. What are you talking about? I see people do it all the time…err, yeah. o_O?
