M is for the million things she gave me

It's that time of year again. Today is my mother's birthday. I am not allowed to tell you how old she is, that could result in my immediate death. Which, hey, would get her up to Minnesota but not exactly the best reunion we could have.

She called me earlier, leaving a message for me, singing "Happy Birthday" to herself. Unfortunately Mom is not in Arizona right now so I can't call her. Our communications are mainly through email and instant messenging. Oh, and yeah, I have a blog so she can't complain about not knowing what's going on in my life. It's right there for her to read, which she doesn't. I am so neglected. Sob.

Mom's birthday present (and Christmas present) is a lap-top so that we can communicate better since she does not have computer access in wherever the heck she is right now (Wyoming? I think) and has to rely on the library. Libraries only allow you so much time on their computers but they do use wireless internet so she could surf and email and oh, maybe read my blog while sitting in the air conditioning.

This is the post that I wrote for Mom last year. It has some pretty interesting Mom stories on it. I have not actually seen my mother in close to two years, she was last up here when Josh was born (he will be 2 on October 3rd. Good Lord, they grow fast, don't they) so I am excited that she's going to be here in November and I am going to get her to go to karaoke. It will be fun, Mom. Trust me.

A lot of these links have been read by most of my readers, mainly these are for Mom. But hey, you could always read them again. I would be cool with that.

Story about my exposure to swearing that my Mom featured in.

Story about how Eric (the brother-in-law) fooled Mom through IM.

I am from... (Mom, this is a poem about my growing up. You should read it.)

Five things I miss from my childhood.

The post I wrote for Mother's Day.

Here's another fun Mom story from her last visit. Kari, Mom and I went up to Mahtomedi High School (my alma mater) to play bingo. When we got there, Mom said she didn't think there would be a lot of people since the weather was so bad. We (Kari, myself and the few other people sitting around us) all looked at her dumbfounded.

"What bad weather?" we all wanted to know. "It's pretty nice out.*"

*Disclaimer. November in Minnesota - pretty nice out means there was no snow, it was above 30 degrees and it was only raining a little. It wasn't frozen rain, just kind of cold. Mom should remember this but she's lived in Arizona for quite some time and has fallen into the snow bird mind set. She's not even a snow bird because she doesn't come back for the summer!

My mother rocks. Just so you all know. She raised Kari and I by herself from the time I was 13 and my Dad wasn't all that much help when they were still married. I was reminded of how classy my Mom was the other day, when I saw two factions from a divorce clash, disregarding how they might make their child feel by the comments they were making about one another. My Mom never once said anything bad about my Dad.

She is the proud grandmother of Joshua (I would post pictures but that is verboten by the sister) and respects the fact that she is probably never getting a grandchild from me. She does not acknowledge Eddy as her grandcat but maybe she will someday. Of course, I lose out on that as well because Kari has her other grandcat, Sebastian. Kari is so ahead of me in the good daughter contest.

Mom, you will appreciate this. Kari and Eric were over the other day and the topic came up about the fact that I don't drive. I said I never had a first car and Kari says and I quote "You could have had a car. You chose books." I do not remember being asked if I wanted a car or books. Can we go back in time? I could have my El Camino right now!

Love you very much!

D

Oh, and a story to come, when I get around to it, will be the post about my Mom's chili. Remember this, Mom? Going to Pine City? It will be fun.

Mother - by Howard Johnson

"M" is for the million things she gave me,
"O" means only that she's growing old,
"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,
"H" is for her heart of purest gold;
"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,
"R" means right, and right she'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me.

Chances Are

I posted this at 3:00 AM on Sunday morning but then my stupid computer decided to thwart me. So I am going to post it again. And you better work, computer, or we will tangle (actually I’m at work now so it was my home computer that I’m going to tangle with).

I found this on frog’s blog and liked it. Frog got this from Goddess Dea but I’m not sure who she is so I can’t link to her as well. I think it’s a great idea and we should probably all do it. The only problem is, of course, is that this “assignment” is going to convince new readers of what a flake I really and truly am.

Here is what frog has on her blog, I’m not sure if these are her words or Goddess Dea but I liked what it says so I’m just copying directly.

Chances are people you don't even know are being introduced to your journal every day, either randomly or through someone else. In addition to recent entries, people can get to know you better by what you posted in the past. With that in mind post a link to your entries on this day exactly six months ago, nine months ago, and a year ago. If there was no entry on that day, link the closest date.

Six months ago today.

Nine months ago today.

One year ago today.

Please remember that the post from nine months ago was written before I officially met Gil and the one from six months ago was written before I was aware that I liked him. I am not fickle. Really, I’m not. Oh, shut up. You sound like my sister.

And, because I’ve been singing the song to myself, here are the lyrics to “Chances Are.”


Chances Are - Johnny Mathis

Chances are 'cause I wear a silly grin
The moment you come into view
Chances are you think that I'm in love with you

Just because my composure sort of slips
The moment that your lips meet mine
Chances are you think my heart's your Valentine

In the magic of moonlight when I sigh, "Hold me close, dear"
Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes

Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me
And if you think you could
Well, chances are your chances are awfully good

Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes

Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me
And if you think you could
Well, chances are your chances are awfully good

The chances are your chances are awfully good

Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me - Updated (comments at end of post)

Okay, in my last post, I asked for advice on breaking the touch barrier. Last night I got a bit of an education on how not to do this. And no, dear Internet, this education was not from anything I did. Gil, unfortunately, was not at karaoke so I was not able to feast my eyes on his visage, much to my regret.

No, this is something I observed, a mating dance, if you will, occuring between several of the patrons of the Chalet.

First we have our male. With his bright plumage, the male struts around the roost, drawing the attention of...oh, wait, sorry. I was channeling Marlon Perkins from Mutual of Omaha for a minute.

Okay, so the Chalet was super busy last night. It usually is on Thursdays, for reasons that escape me (I could see Friday and Saturday being busy but Thursday strikes me as odd). There were several tables cram-packed full of people when I arrived but I was lucky enough to snag a table towards the back. Even so, it was extremely loud and when Beth arrived, we had to raise our voices to communicate. The telepathy was obviously not working last night. As much as I love to sing and enjoy visiting the Chalet, I prefer Sundays because it is usually not as loud and you can manage a conversation without having to scream.

Towards the end of the evening, a group of young men came in (mid twenties to early thirties) and sat at the table in front of us. Beth began to fear for her life when two of the men stood over her and weaved around, waving their cigarettes over her head.

It was one of these men that I noticed, merely because he reminded me of a former banker from NABABNA. Like this former banker, this man (let's call him Jack (short for Jackass)) tried to gain attention to himself by being as obnoxious as possible. He screamed along with the singers, he danced in the aisle between the tables and the bar and he completely freaked out one of his friends by leaning into whisper something to him and then sticking his tongue in his ear.

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, a fairly attractive woman up at the bar was responding to Jack's advances. Perhaps she was attracted to extremely agressive men. As I watched, she leaned forward and lightly slapped his chest, as if to indicate "Oh, you're so funny." I turned to Beth and said "I don't get it. How did she do that?"

It was so completely casual, this brief touch, that I was amazed. I can't even begin to imagine doing this to Gil. And then this woman went a step beyond the casual touch. She left her hand on his chest, nothing major, still more than I could see myself doing. Then Beth and I glanced over at her again and were somewhat shocked. In Beth's words "She grabbed his boob. He has man boobs and she grabbed them (something like that)!"

Liz arrived shortly after and we were talking about work and how the week had gone when I glanced over at the girl and Jack again. Beth noticed this and said "There's a way to break the touch barrier and there's a way to appear like a total slut." I agree and said "Yeah, especially since he just grabbed her ass." And she looked completely shocked and pissed off about it.

I don't know what happened between them next because I returned to the conversation with Beth and Liz. The next thing I knew was that the girl was gone and Jack was chatting up another woman, one who had sung a few times last night. Somehow they went from exchanging pleasantries to locking lips in the middle of the bar. A few minutes later, they were leaving together.

So here's my challenge. I need to break the touch barrier, I need to let Gil know I am interested in him but not that I am going to throw myself at his feet and be his love slave. Well, at least not this week. Diana had a great suggestion and I might have to try it.

Anyway, in honor of Jack and his success with the ladies, I bring you a romantic love song from Rocky Horror Picture Show. As a reminder that this is not where I want things to go. Lucky for me, Gil is not anything like Jack. Thank God.

So how is your week going?

UPDATED - COMMENTS ADDED TO POST ITSELF.

I tried three times to comment on my own comments and was rejected each time. It was quite frustrating.

Beth, well, as it is now Monday, you know why I was not yet able to break the touch barrier. Argh!

For the rest of you, I'll be posting briefly on this but if you want info now, check out Beth's blog.

Teri, the Uptown theater in Minneapolis used to play this movie and have all of the toast flinging and water spraying and newspaper wearing. It was great. I saw my first drag queen there. Totally cool.

As for touch me songs, the Divinyls is the only one there and I have sung it before. Just not recently. I may have to try it again.

Carol, I have missed you! Thank you for the multitude of comments. Very fun to read. This is not a bad suggestion, actually. Of course, you all realize that if his friend still reads my blog, my cover is going to be completely blown when I try these suggestions. But the hell with it. I am going to break this barrier. Life is short, as I discovered last night. It is not worth waffling over to touch or not to touch, that is the question.

Diana, you would think, wouldn't you? I'll have to give it a shot. Plus, it's totally a fun song to sing, especially on a crowded night.

Nancy, thanks for visiting! I'll have to check out your blog soon. This is a good suggestion as well. Normally no problem with touching, just I really like him and that causes me to freeze.

Mark, I have missed you as well! I so love this idea. It is completely hilarious and wouldn't be obvious at all. Right. Thanks for all the other comments.

Beth. Yeah, I could have added it to the list. Wouldn't have done me one bit of good but I could have. Maybe next week.

Betty, HI! I have missed you. I will stop by and say hello.

Teri, I don't know if the Chalet has Embraceable You. I'll have to check. OH, and download it from iTunes because I don't know the song at all.

Everyone, wonderful suggestions. Hopefully this will work. I will break the touch barrier. I will. And he won't give me a disdainful look and wonder why the heck I would ever think he would be interested in me. Because I don't fear rejection at all. No. I'm so confident.

Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Janet Weiss: I was feeling done in
Couldn't win
I'd only ever kissed before

Columbia: You mean she?

Magenta: Uh huh

Janet Weiss: I thought there's no use getting
Into heavy petting
It only leads to trouble
And seat wetting
Now all I want to know
Is how to go
I've tasted blood and I want more

Magenta and Columbia: More, more, more!

Janet Weiss: I'll put up no resistance
I want to stay the distance
I've got an itch to scratch
I need assistance
Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me
I wanna be dirty
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
Creature of the night

Then if anything grows
While you pose
I'll oil you up
And rub you down

Magenta and Columbia: Down, down, down!

Janet Weiss: And that's just one small fraction
Of the main attraction
You need a friendly hand
And I need action
Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me
I wanna be dirty
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
Creature of the night

Columbia: Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me

Magenta: I wanna be dirty

Columbia: Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Magenta: Creature of the night

Janet Weiss: Oh, touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me
I wanna be dirty
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
Creature of the night

Rocky Horror: Creature of the night
Brad Majors: Creature of the night?
Dr. Frank-N-Furter: Creature of the night
Magenta: Creature of the night
Riff Raff: Creature of the night
Columbia: Creature of the night
Rocky Horror: Creature of the night
Janet Weiss: Creature of the night!

The ABC's of Music

Beth posted this meme and, since I’m working on several posts and need something to keep you, my beloved readers, from throwing up your hands in despair since I have nothing new, I am going to gleefully steal it. Here’s the deal. The list is alphabetical and, for each letter, you list your favorite band or artist. She found the meme here. Like her, for artists, I will use either their first or last name to fit the meme accordingly.

A. Aimee Mann

B. Bryan McDonald (Medium)

C. Chris Isaak

D. Def Leppard

E. Etheridge, Melissa

F. Five For Fighting

G. Ghost of the Robot (James Marsters former band. You might remember him as Spike (mmm, Spike) from Buffy and Angel)

H. Herman's Hermits

I. Indigo Girls

J. Jack Johnson

K. Kane (Christian Kane is their lead singer. You might remember him from Angel as the devious and gorgeous Lindsey)

L. The Lightning Seeds

M. Meat Loaf

N. No Doubt

O. Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark

P. Presley, Elvis

Q. Queen

R. Ray Charles

S. Sharp, Bree

T. Tom Petty

U. U2

V. Van Morrison

W. The Who

X.

Y. Yanni (Yes, I am just kidding)

Z. ZZ Top

My Introduction to Comic Books

This is the story I was looking for. I wrote about this in my Creative Writing class in my first year of college. I have not been able to find the original so this is drawing completely from my faulty memory. My apologies if I accidentally mix up comic book artists or names of comic books.

When I was 18, I met my first boyfriend, Mark, while visiting a friend at the Maplewood Mall. Mark worked as a security guard for the Mall and, in the way that most high school romances seem to start; ours began with him telling my friend that he thought I was cute. He got my phone number from her and called me shortly after we met.

Mark was, well, kind of different. He introduced me to a world I had never experienced before, the world of comic books. On one of our dates, we were supposed to go to a movie. He picked me up early because he wanted to go to a couple of different comic book stores. The first store was in Willernie, only a hop, skip and jump (I don’t get that expression. Who goes hopping, skipping and jumping to measure distance) from Mahtomedi, my home town.

He parked the car a few blocks away from the store and we started walking. About halfway there, Mark stopped abruptly. I turned to look at him and became a bit worried.

His nose was twitching rapidly, his eyes were narrowed in concentration and he looked as though he might start convulsing any moment.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Shhh!” he shushed me. “We’re almost there. I can smell them.”

“Ooookay,” I said, in that calm, don’t upset the lunatic voice I’ve had to use a few times in my dating history.

“We must be very quiet,” he continued. “We have to sneak up on the comic books or else they will escape.”

“What?!”

“Shhh!” he shushed me again. “Be very quiet.”

The next few minutes were some of the oddest that I have ever experienced on a date. Mark ducked behind buildings and signs, peered around corners and acted like he was a detective stalking his prey while I walked along, trying to think of how I would explain this if I happened to run into anyone I knew. “Hi. This is my boyfriend. He’s insane” just didn’t seem to have the right ring to it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we did reach the shop. Mark threw the door open, looked around the room and announced dramatically “See? They didn’t escape.”

As he engaged in a conversation with the proprietor (who I am quite certain that Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons was based on) about the merits of one artist opposed to another, I wandered around the store. I was fascinated by the bright colors and the short text and was beginning to see the appeal, until I glanced up and saw a copy of Sheena, Queen of the Jungle hanging on the wall. You can imagine my shock when I saw that it was being offered for $500 (and this was in 1985. God knows what it’s valued at now).

After Mark finished the discussion, we headed back to the car and off to the next stop on our journey. This was downtown Saint Paul. Mark pulled into a parking lot and turned off the car.

“We’re here.”

I looked around. There was no comic book store in sight. “Mark,” I said gently. “This is a hotel. And, as much as I like you, we’ve really only been dating for a short time…”

“No, Dana. The store is across the street.”

“Oh.” I followed him to the end of the parking lot. We stood in the middle of the block, watching traffic whiz by.

“We cross here,” Mark said and darted across the street.

“Here?” I said faintly. Was he insane? Well, obviously with the whole incident of the Great Comic Book Safari. I girded my loins (mentally. Does anyone actually physically gird their loins now? Why do these phrases bother me so) and ran across the street, expecting to be hit by a semi at any moment.

Fortunately I survived (because if I hadn’t, that would so put a new twist on ghost writing) and caught up with Mark.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” I hissed, only to see him disappear into a shop. Sighing to myself, I followed him.

Surprise! It was a comic book store. It looked very similar to the previous one, right down to Comic Book Guy. Although this one was thin, pasty and wore the most awful glasses I have ever seen. Mark wandered around, asking the clerk questions that I could not interpret, flipping through bins filled with garish comic books. I amused myself by wandering around and found some old Supergirl comics (in horrible shape which, as I know now, is the only reason why they were out in the open without being covered in 5 miles of Mylar plastic). Supergirl, by the way, is pretty boring. Her adventures were not overly exciting but hey, it was something to read. This was before I started carrying around a purse that many have compared to a suitcase (Dana Rule #1: you must always have a book and, in some cases, a backup book (if you are nearing the end of the first book)).

Mark did not find what he was looking for and we soon left, although I did put up a bit of a fuss, since I had began to get involved in one of the adventures (okay, not overly exciting but I hate not finishing something I’ve started. Wait. Let me rephrase this before Beth bursts into hysterical laughter. I hate not finishing something I’ve started reading. Drives me crazy. I spent all this time wondering what happened to the characters) of Supergirl.

We were off to the last store and Mark solemnly swore we would then go to the movie after that. The store in question was Shinder’s, near Maplewood Mall. It is the only store that is in still in business out of these three. I was happier here because Shinder’s also sells actual books so I was happy wandering in and out of the racks. I was in Heaven when I found they actually had Doctor Who books (used to collect them) and I found one I did not yet own.

While I was perusing the racks, Mark found me. He looked somewhat guilty.

“Hi,” he said, casually.

“Hi,” I said back. “Are you ready to go?”

“Well, here’s the thing. I found what I was looking for but…” He looks even guiltier.

“Yes?”

“Well, if I buy it, I won’t have enough to take you to the movie.” He shows me his find. It is a copy of The Fantastic Four. I am somewhat intrigued until I see the price tag on the Mylar plastic.

“Fifty bucks?” I am appalled. For a comic book? This is horrible (anyone who brings up the fact that I paid five dollars for a Styrofoam coleslaw container from A&W will be in BIG trouble (and to be honest, I don’t remember how much the comic book was, this is a complete guess. It sounds right, though)).

“Yes but it is the first issue of The Fantastic Four ever drawn by John Byrne.”

“Who?”

He gaped at me in dismay. How could he possibly explain the value of this comic book if I didn’t understand the importance of John Byrne? My eyes fell on the display of Doctor Who books. Here was something I enjoyed that many others didn’t get. Was I going to be a total bitch and insist that he take me to the movie or would I be kind and understanding? Kind and understanding won out.

“Okay, fine. Get your comic book. I’ll buy this. Everyone is happy.”

Over the next six months that we dated, I learned much more about comic books. I was even allowed, under Mark’s eagle eye, to read a few (after a long lecture about the importance of washing my hands, only touching the edges of the page, etc.) of his precious books. This is also the guy who taught me how to play Dungeons and Dragons and also the robot game that was like D&D but not (in other words, a pencil and paper role playing game). I didn’t start playing Magic (strip or regular) until years after our time together but I know he would have enjoyed the game

He was a complete and total geek. I adored him. We had fascinating conversations about everything and anything. He loved movies. He was intelligent and funny and a little bit nuts.
Are there any questions as to why I am so crazy about Gil? I didn’t think so. And Gil has the added bonus of not being the completely conceited, manipulative and arrogant ass that Mark was on occasion. Who also turned out to be cheating on me with three other women (I actually didn’t find this out until long after we broke up).

Speaking of Gil, I lost a bet to Beth on Saturday night when we were playing pool. I am supposed to uberflirt with him. I do not know how to flirt, let alone uber. Any suggestions? Keep in mind that I completely freeze when talking to a guy I’m interested in. Absolutely no problem otherwise. I can tell Andrew that he needs to wear tighter jeans so I can ogle his rear and be completely joking. I can tell a co-worker that I like that he is scruffy and mean just that. But can I string together two words that might say “Hey. I like you” to Gil. Of course not.

It has been suggested that I break the touch barrier. How the heck do I do that? Rachel and I were discussing this today and she, like many others, suggested I laugh and touch his arm when he says something funny. I told her I would, in my nervousness, probably end up punching him in the eye. My life would be so much easier if they would just bring back arranged marriages. Sigh.

Joe, I know it is not the requested pictures but Keem did just buy a digital camera and we have been on an excursion to a scenic overlook overlooking (couldn't resist) the Mississippi River. That will be posted soon.

Oh, and speaking of The Fantastic Four, I just said to Matt (my boss) the most awful sentence ever. "I used to have a thing for The Thing." But hey, he was kind of hot for a large rock-like creature.

Sister Golden Hair

When we were at karaoke on Thursday, we heard this song and Beth asked me to find the lyrics for her. So what better way to do so then to use it as a post title?

Karaoke, as always, was fun. I got there later than usual because I asked Keem to wake me up at 9 PM (need to take a nap in order to go out. God, I'm so old. In my 20's, I would go out, go to work and go out again, all on about 3-4 hours of sleep a night) which she did and then I told her I wanted another half hour. This was mainly because I was having a completely awesome dream about Gil (of course). I finally left the house about 10 PM and caught a cab. The nice thing about living downtown is that the cabs park right in front of my building and there is usually one or two there when I leave on Thursday. This is how much I love karaoke and seeing Beth. I will gladly spend $10-15 on a cab ride (depending on how I tip).

Had a great conversation with my cabbie about the fact that Minnesota is considering a full state ban on smoking in bars and restaurants. We are both against this because, honestly, non-smokers, aren't there enough places you can go if you don't want to be tainted by our smoke? There are a ton of restaurants in the Twin Cities area that are already non-smoking. Plus, I think it's quite annoying that cigarettes have gone up to over $4 a pack because of tax and yet, it's becoming difficult to find a place where you can sit down and enjoy a smoke after your meal. But enough about that. I've been lucky in my last few cabbies, they have not been psychotic freaks.

The only table open was right by the stage. This is good and bad. It is good because Bryan came over and talked to me for awhile and I'm close to the stage when the really good singers were up there. I got to hoot and holler when the Reverend James, Bryan and Joe Funko sang "Cecelia" and have a brief conversation about how the guy who sang the song on Sunday sucked compared to them. Joe's response was "Well, of course. I bet he wasn't wearing tight striped pants." Hmm, he may be onto the fact that one of the reasons I enjoy Thursday's is because the softball team that the Chalet supports is there and yeah, got to love a man in a uniform, even if it's a softball one.

Bryan asked me if I wanted to sing. I told him of course I did. He said he didn't want to push anyone into singing if they didn't want to. I replied "This is my life, Bryan. This is the closest I get to acting."

It is bad because when Beth and Char did get there, it was hard to have a conversation without shouting when the not so great singers were on stage. James came over and sat with us and I ended up having to move so I could hear what everyone was saying. I usually like to sit so I am facing the stage but I was having such a hard time understanding the conversation that I moved so my back was to the stage. I have noticed that if I am facing someone, I can hear better. Which is odd because I do not read lips at all. I was sitting next to Beth and facing Char and James. I have no problem hearing Beth which fits in with my theory that we communicate telepathically (an example of this can be found here and here).

This was Char's last night at karaoke for a long time. She is moving to Texas and we will miss her muchly. She will be back in a year (10 months? Something like that) and all will be wondrous but until then, it is going to be very sad. It is bad enough that Tom is in Texas but now Char is leaving us. And for such a silly reason - to be reunited with her husband (yes, yes, I am only kidding).

At one point in the night, to give you an idea of how hard it was to hear anything, I looked up and saw a commercial (?) where Ronald McDonald was juggling. When I expressed my dismay at this (clowns freak the crap out of me), Char was confused.

C: Did you just say you wanted to be impregnated by Ronald McDonald?
D: No. I said he was juggling. That's just what I want. To be knocked up by a clown. Maybe my kid could have a big red nose.
B: Impregnated. Juggling. Yes, those sound alike.

There was a contest for two Chalet shirts and a $15 gift certificate. Bryan gave one of the shirts to Char because she was leaving. I won the gift certificate because, when Bryan asked for someone to come forth with foriegn currency, I was the only one who could. I had a euro in my purse, waiting for me to complete my Vegas scrapbook so I can start my Portugal scrapbook. The 2nd shirt went to this guy sitting up at the bar, talking to Liz, because the popular consensus was that he had the worst shirt in the place and needed a new one.

It was a good night and I had a great time with my friends. Liz came over after karaoke was over and we had fun talking. She is going to try to make it to Char's going away party tonight (Saturday), possibly James will be there as well. Bryan does not think he will be able to go.

Friday night, Beth picked me up from work and we went out to play pool with Char and Andy. We had a good time, Andy is very funny and so we laughed a lot. Beth, for some odd and inexplicable reason, decided when she, Char and I went to Perkins later, that she needed to have ice cream. Actually, that's not so much the odd part. The odd part is why she decided that I also needed to have some ice cream. And when I say have ice cream, what I mean is that she decided to paint my arm in vanilla ice cream. There is also a picture of me with the cold, wet substance on my nose, rather like zinc. I bet I look like I am surfing. Then Beth and I went to her place and watched Saved. As she said, the movie is hilarious and we laughed a lot.

It's now Monday morning, I'm exhausted and am too tired to go back and correct the time frames so just to let you know, I've been working on this over the weekend and I am now going to tell you about Saturday night.

I spent the weekend over at Beth's and on Saturday, after she went to work, I spent my time alternating between playing some games on Popcap.com and working on this post. At around 6, Beth called to let me know she was on her way to pick me up and take me to the pool hall to meet Char.

Beth ran in for a little bit to say hi and was there when Char saw a man across the pool hall and thought that he looked familiar. Was that her cousin (Tom's cousin, her's by marriage) Shawn? Instead of walking over or letting Beth walk over to ask if it was Shawn, Char decided to call Tom in Texas and ask him for Shawn's number. She then called the number and, when the man across the pool hall answered his phone, started chewing him out for not coming over to say hi while Beth and I laughed over this. Shawn and his friends moved to the table next to us.

Char and I played a few games of pool and then she played against Shawn. She was worried I would think she was ignoring her but I took that time to finish reading my book. Perhaps it is a bit odd to read in a pool hall but heck, I read at the Chalet on Thursdays before karaoke starts. Her father and Kathy (his wife or girlfriend? Not sure) arrived shortly and then her mother and Jeff (her fiance) arrived. Char played a couple of games of pool with her Dad and then against Jeff after her Dad and Kathy left.

Around 10, Andy arrived and I played pool against him because Char was getting a bit worn out. We had a good time talking and laughing and then it was close to midnight and Beth, Carl and Mary all arrived. More pool was played, I caught up with Carl and Mary, it had been close to nine months since I had seen them last. Liz and James were not able to make it but Char did make a somewhat drunken phone call to Liz's cell phone to say goodbye at about 1 AM.

At about 2 or 3, it was time to go off to Perkins (again). This time there was no ice cream adorning my arm or nose. Andy and Mary joined us and we had so much fun. We, very bravely, tried to avoid talking about Char's upcoming trip to Texas. After dinner, Beth, Char and I went to Wal-Mart (which I'm not talking about because James thinks that Wal-Mart is evil. I will say that they have changed a lot since I worked for them many years ago. But hey, it's 3 in the morning. Nothing else is open and where are you supposed to go when you need a fish tank?).

We found the fish tank that Char needed. Char decided to wear the fish tank. It was quite cute and silly and even more hysterical when she said pathetically "Will someone help me get the fish tank off my head?"

We also found the electronics department where I purchased 4 movies - Top Secret (I'm too tired to link to imdb.com so here is plot info. Top Secret stars Val Kilmer as a kind of Elvis like guy and it is a spoof of spy movies and Elvis movies. It's pretty funny or at least it was when I saw it last), Grosse Pointe Blank (John Cusack plays a hit man who goes to his high school reunion, very funny), Trading Spaces (old 80's movie with Dan Ackroyd and Eddie Murphy, excellent) and finally, Hellboy. This is a movie based off a comic book and I had rented it about a month ago. I love this movie. I was very excited to see that my DVD also came with a miniature version of one of the comic books the movie is based on and enjoyed reading it on Sunday while Beth was online. Hellboy is awesome. If you have not seen it, you should. Well, only if you like Sci-Fi/Fantasy movies. If you can't suspend disbelief, there's probably not much point in seeing it.

After our trip to Wal-Mart, we drove back to the pool hall and said goodbye to Char. There were tears and laughter and more tears. There were promises to keep in touch. Char has been promising me a blog for quite some time so hopefully this will spur her into action. We are going to miss Char a lot and can't wait for her and Tom to return back to Minnesota.

The reason I chose this song is not only to provide Beth with the lyrics but because of this phrase right here "Well, I keep on thinkin’ ’bout you, sister golden hair surprise. And I just can’t live without you; can’t you see it in my eyes?"

I feel so blessed to have such great friends like Beth, Keem and Char. To me, they are my sisters, the family that I got to choose (not that I don't love my actual family dearly (not that they read my blog but hey, disclaimer, just in case)), just as important to me as Mom and Kari and Eric and Josh. I do keep on thinking about them and I can't live without them. If it wasn't for them, I would either be a complete and total recluse or I would have committed suicide a long time ago. Happy pills can only do so much. I also am very thankful for the blogging world and all of the friends I have made through this medium. So I'm going to get a little mushy now. Hope you can all deal with it, dear Internet.

I love you guys. Char, start a blog. Don't make me come to Texas and kick your ass.

Sister Golden Hair by America

Well I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damn depressed
That I set my sights on Monday and I got myself undressed
I ain’t ready for the altar but I do agree there’s times
When a woman sure can be a friend of mine

Well, I keep on thinkin’ ’bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just can’t live without you; can’t you see it in my eyes?
I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don’t mind sayin’, I just can’t make it

Well, I keep on thinkin’ ’bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just can’t live without you; can’t you see it in my eyes?
Now I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don’t mind sayin’, I just can’t make it

Doo wop doo wop ...

Dad's Foot Stool

When I was younger (this was before my parents got divorced so I know that this is before I was 13 but not sure when. Sorry), we had a dog named Muffin (I did not name her. She was given this name by the person who owned her before us) , a cat named Buttons (again with the not naming. She had belonged to my sister Suz) but we called her Kitty (okay, yeah, not so original but hey, I was young) and a cat named Clyde (named after the deceased husband of the editor of Bread for Children, this religious magazine my Mom subscribed to for me. I felt the best way to immortalise her deceased husband was to name my cat after him. I know. I told you people I was weird).

Kari and I used to bring stray animals home all the time. Drove Mom crazy but she was usually pretty good about letting us feed and play with the animal until we found said animal's owner. This is how we got Clyde. He started following me home from church one day and then saw Kari and took off running after her. Clyde was a orange tabby who had obviously been living outside for awhile. He had been in at least one fight and part of his ear (the tip) was holding on for dear life. When we found him, the tip was frozen. Mom eventually did let us keep him but was less than pleased that when the tip did fall off, it was on her bed.

One of the strays that followed us home was a basset hound. I adore basset hounds with their big hound eyes and their short & long (well, they are. They are close to the ground but long) little bodies.

This was not too long after our Weimaraner Coco had died. My family always had dogs when I was growing up, which is weird when you consider that both Kari and I are cat people and both Mom and Dad preferred dogs. Coco was Dad's dog, through and through. She absolutely adored him. When he would go to the store, Coco would take off running down the driveway, nothing we would call after her would persuade her to return. She had to be with Dad. Twenty or so minutes later, Dad would return, Coco sitting proudly next to him in the truck. The strange thing about this is she only ran after him when he was going to the neighborhood store. He could leave for work and she would stay where she was.

So Coco was gone and we were feeling her loss. We still had Muffin but Coco had been such a vital dog, friendly and loving, that it was hard for Muffin to carry the entire load of adoring the Vittum family. There is only so much face licking that a small dog can do, especially when she has four humans.

One day, when I was coming home from school, a basset hound started following me home. Well, when I say the dog started following me, what I really mean is I persuaded the dog with lots of petting and affection. There may have even been a snack food involved but I don't remember that. I had never seen this dog before and there was not a collar so obviously she needed to be rescued.

Mom was, as usual, reluctant to let a new stray into the house but the combination of the puppy dog eyes of both her eldest daughter and the basset hound were irresistable. I am sure Kari was involved in the pleading but since her eyes are blue, she does not have puppy dog eyes. I have brown eyes that have been compared to melted chocolate which used to work very well when it comes to pleading. However, now Beth, Keem and Kari are all immune to this effect. It is quite annoying (in all honesty, I don't think any of them ever did fall for the Look of Pleading but it is fun to pretend).

There was one condition. Under no circumstances were we allowed to name the dog. The dog possibly had a home of her own and it would be terrible if we got too attached to her. This was Dad's rule. I think he was trying to keep himself from getting hurt after losing Coco.

However, the dog was not going to let him keep his distance. While she was affectionate with Kari, Mom and myself, it was Dad that she followed around. When he was sitting in his chair, watching TV, she was right there, nudging him until he propped his feet up on her back. I remember sitting next to her, watching television with my Dad, feeling her breath on my hand and feeling his hand on my head. This is a great memory that I have of my father. I do not have many but the good ones far outweigh the bad.

After a day or two, we started referring to her as "Dad's foot stool." It fit her well. Dad would come home from work and she would be right there, ushering him to his chair. He started talking about maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to keep her. We hadn't seen any fliers for a missing dog so obviously she was a stray.

Unfortunately, one day, Kari and I came home from school to find that "Dad's foot stool" was nowhere to be found. Kari and I ran up and down the streets, calling her name (and did we ever sound ridiculous, yelling "Foot Stool! Come here, Foot Stool!"), but we never saw her again. A few days after her disappearance, I overheard one of the kids in 4th grade (oh, I must have been in 5th grade. Because our school only had 4th and 5th grades in it. Behold my powers of deduction! Do not ask me how old I was in 5th grade because that would require math and therefore not allowed since math is evil) talking about how his dog, a basset hound, had disappeared for a week but had returned. The dog was in good and healthy condition and looked like she had been pampered in her time away.

When I returned home, I informed my family of what I had learned. We were all devastated, Dad most of all, even though he tried to hide it by saying gruffly that he had never liked the dog and wasn't it a good thing that we didn't name her? We all knew he was lying.

I'm not sure how soon after this that Mom came home with an odd look on her face. The reason for this was revealed when a basset hound came walking into the house. Kari and I were ecstatic. It turns out that someone was giving this dog away and Mom answered the ad. Her name was Maime and she was the sweetest dog to family but very agressive and protective of her space. It turned out that she had been abused and was able to have a much better quality of life living with us.

I really do think that God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes he uses dogs. If it hadn't been for "Dad's Foot Stool," we never would have rescued Maime. Dad never would have been able to deal with the loss of Coco and realize that loving another dog doesn't make you less loyal to the first one. Kari wouldn't have had her faithful companion (Muffin was definitely my dog while Maime was Kari's). I do believe that "Foot Stool" had her vacation with us for a reason.

There is a picture somewhere, that I would love to find and scan. It is winter and Kari was going through a cross country skiing phase. I can conjure up the memory of this moment. Kari had fallen on her back, skis sticking straight in the air. Maime ran straight for her, short legs pumping through the snow, ears flopping and propped herself on Kari's chest. In the picture, Kari is laughing and crying for help from Mom. Mom is too busy taking the picture to rescue her youngest daughter from the loving tongue of Maime.

She was a good dog. So was Muffin. I miss them still.

Those Things Are Hers

One of the blogs I read, Sarcomical, does this Some Things each week that I enjoy. It's just a list of things that she loves, hates and is confused about. This is her most recent post about Some Things.

I don't have a list like that but I do have some thoughts that have been floating through my mind and they aren't big enough to do a whole post on. Some of it is just things that I have pondered over (maybe for too long), some of it is conversations I've had and some of it is just stuff.

Pondering Over:

Did you know that the new nickname for Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes is TomKat? That just amuses the heck out of me. I do not understand what the hell Katie Holmes is thinking. Although I have been taking vitamins for the last two days and I am suddenly feeling all of my problems slip away. Maybe soon I can stop taking my happy pills and not be struck with the urge to throw myself out of a window or stab random people because their voices annoy me. Yeah! That seems completely rational.

I left a comment for Joe the other day about something being the height of all laziness. And then I started wondering about this, my mom always used this expression and I never really knew what it meant. Does laziness actually have a height? And if so, what is it? Is there a width of all laziness? And why the hell do I wonder about these things?

There apparently is a comic book called "Tales of the Beanworld." I thought Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was weird. I really want to check out Joss Whedon's graphic novels about Buffy. Why can I not find the paper I wrote in college about my first boyfriend and my introduction to comic books? Or the short story I wrote that was called "Tale of a Depressed Girl?" This is quite frustrating. Or the stupid children's story about Paddleford, the Blue Duck? Why can't I just close my eyes and wish for my room to be clean and organized without having to do any work? What's the point to being Queen of the Universe if you have to clean?

Happy About

I finally filled my prescription for Effexor and I am thrilled. They obviously haven't kicked in because it does take awhile for the medicine to get into your blood stream but I don't have to go back to the doctor for 6 months (unless, of course, anything changes) and it is nice to hold them in my hands and realize that life isn't going to seem so hard again. It took me a long time to realize that while I don't really have anything in my life that is depressing, a chemical imbalance can make everything seem impossible.

My hair is getting quite long (okay, for me, anyway). It is not yet ponytail length yet but I can pull it back with one of those clippy gripping things (yeah, I'm so descriptive. It's a wonder why I'm not published yet) and not look completely like an idiot. Oh, and I can wear those things that you put on your head and push the hair back and it holds it in place. What are those things called? The only bad part of this is that my hair keeps getting in my eyes but I want my bangs to grow out and match the rest of my hair so I can't cut it and it's killing me. Killing me! And not softly with his song, either.

Annoyed About

What do you mean server not found? Are you trying to tell me that Gmail.com has just completely disappeared? I was just there five minutes ago, you stupid piece of crap! That's it. I switching browsers. Won't you be sorry then? Mwahahahaha!

I am really tired of stock owners calling and not having all their information together. And then they complain about how long they had to wait. Okay. Here's a clue. You're calling for financial information. Chances are, we're going to ask you for something to identify yourself, say something like, oh, your account number, maybe? And, hey, what better time to get your act together than while you are on hold? Because, you, like every other stock holder in the world, has nothing better to do than call us on a Monday, at 9 AM. We're open Monday through Friday. Where were you last Friday when I went almost 10 minutes between calls (not that I'm complaining)?

Conversations

So I found out that my grandfather was part Indian (Native American, although my Mom did not use the politically correct term when she told me so blame her. And then do not read the rest of this paragraph because I am a horrible, horrible person and am so going to Hell) recently. I thought this was quite cool because finally I have learned some truth about my heritage (Long story. Read it here. Mainly my Dad didn't want me to grow to be prejudiced and lied to me). Anyway, at karaoke on Sunday, I mention it to Beth and Char.

DM: Hey, I found out I'm part Indian.
B: Yeah? Which part (or this could have been Char)?
C: Your pinky?
DM: No. My toe.
B: Which toe? Is it the little piggy that went to the market or the one that ate roast beef (I think these are the ones that she used. She may remember better)?
DM: No. It's the little piggy that scalped all the white folks for giving us small pox and stealing our land.

Okay, it's wrong. I know it, you know it - I'm a horrible person and am going to go to Hell. But it was damn funny.

Also on Sunday, Beth was having a bit of a dilemma. She had consumed two drinks and was feeling the effects of the alcohol slightly.

B: I think I am drunk.
DM: Do you feel like licking someone?
B: Yes (Smiles slightly wickedly because said someone is there).
DM: Okay. Here's the ultimate test. Do you feel like licking Pete (that would be someone's friend who has absolutely no personality)?
B (look of horror): No!
DM: Then you're not drunk.

I can't believe I remember this since this was from the night that I consumed 7 of the most glorious beverages known to mankind but apparently I do. And Beth hasn't posted it yet so I'm going to beat her to the punch (okay, what the hell does that mean? Where do people come up with these things?):

Beth, Char and I are sitting at the bar on Thursday (a week ago Thursday? Don't recall).

B: Penguins!

Char and I turn to her after looking around trying to find the penguins. Are they on TV? Is there a picture of them? Did they just waddle into the Chalet looking for an iceberg to go? We do not see any penguins.

C & DM: Where?
B: In my head.

Believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more fun than hanging out with Beth and Char. It is going to be very sad saying goodbye to Char on Saturday, she is moving to Texas for a year because she, for some reason, wants to be with her husband, Tom. Hopefully she will keep her promise to Beth and I and start a blog so we can keep in touch with her and hear all of the crazy things she is doing. I cannot believe that I suggested this, knowing how I feel about heat, but Beth and I are considering heading to Texas in February or March to see the Emperor and Empress of Cool since we will both have vacation time again. At least Beth is not leaving me to move to somewhere miles and miles away. I would cry muchly.

Today's title comes from The Honeydogs. I used to listen to 104.1 (The Point) years ago, when it was cool and not either 80's music or the new format (Jack radio. What the heck is that? Oh, well, at least it's not all 80's) and they played a song by The Honeydogs. I enjoyed it so was pleased when I found one of their CDs at a garage sale. This is one of my favorite songs by them. Another one I like is "I Miss You."

Those Things Are Hers - The Honeydogs

Here we are
We're finally alone now
It's just you and me
And the memories of her
Please don't go
Though I know that you're angry
Maybe we can kill these ghosts with another glass of wine

There's the glass
That she pressed to her lips nightly
If you look you can see a lipstick trace

There's the dress
That she wore so tightly
If you look in the mirror
You can see her standing there

Chorus
Those things are hers:
The ring and the glass and the bed that you lie on
And I got nerve:
It's mean dragging up the past like she wasn't gone
And it's a curse-to live in the shadow of a memory
That just keeps hanging on

There's the ring that once held us together
She wants it back
So I'm sending it next week

There's the coat of brown and dirty leather
She doesn't really need it
'Cause it's warm there out east

Chorus

There's the lamp that she turned off everynight
When she came to bed
And she held me in her arms
There's the door that she walked through daily
And the place that I last saw her
When she walked out on me

Chorus

Why I'm not a world famous artist

Back in November, I came across this picture from Dooce and it reminded me of the time I took an art class in junior high (Mahtomedi Middle School), thinking it would be an easy A.

Now why I thought it would be an easy A, I'm not sure, because, while, yes, I am incredibly creative and imaginative, I have absolutely no artistic ability whatsoever (Which, actually, isn't quite true because I have happened to turn out some decent scrapbooking pages but yeah, wasn't into scrapbooking in ?th (7th? 8th? 9th? Why can't I remember this stuff? I think it was either 8th or 9th) grade). I cannot even draw a straight line with a ruler so you can just imagine what perspective was going to do to me.

My teacher was a nice enough woman, I guess, but she scared the crap out of me. She always looked so disappointed whenever she would look at what I had drawn or painted or attempted to carve.

Here - I give you examples of my failures.

Perspective - Appearance of distant objects to observer: the appearance of objects to an observer allowing for the effect of their distance from the observer. Graphic arts - Allowance for artistic perspective when drawing: the theory or practice of allowing for artistic perspective when drawing or painting.

Perspective relies on being able to draw a straight line. Perspective relies on some math knowledge. Perspective relies on understanding what the heck perspective really is. Do you think I look at a painting and think "Ooh, hey, great perspective?" Well, actually, sometimes I do because that sumbitch is hard. I had problems drawing boxes. Let alone the street scene she wanted us to do.

Tie-dye - Dye designs using bunched cloth: to dye designs on cloth by tightly tying portions of it with waxed thread so that the dye only affects the exposed areas

Seems reasonably simple, right? In this case, we dripped wax onto a cloth and then dipped the cloth in dye. Not too hard. Unless you are, of course, not you and are, in fact, me. Then you're going to run into problems.

See, I liked the whole dripping of the wax on the cloth (I have candle issues and you can occasionally hear Keem yelling "Dana! Stop playing with the wax!") and kept doing it. And my cloth ended up being this horrendous brown color with some green and yellow splotches here and there. Telling your teacher "Hey, I had fun" does not help increase your grade.

Stamp Carved Out of a Potato - I am sure it had a fancy name and I could find the definition on dictionary.com but I don't remember the fancy name. I did think it was kind of stupid. Maybe it was called wood blocking and I thought it was stupid because we weren't wood blocking, we were potato blocking? Anyway, why do I need to make a stamp out of a potato? Haven't you people heard of Archivers (oh, crap, I invoked the mother ship's name. I may need to make a trip there someday. No, no! I will resist them. My wallet cannot take another probing) where I can get nice stamps made out of wood and rubber? Dude. This is just crazy.

Portraiture - The art or practice of making portraits.

To be honest, I don't remember if we had to make portraits. But if we did, I provide you with an example of my portrait drawing techniques. This is a picture I drew on Matt's hand. Granted, I was drawing upside down, skin is not the best canvas I've ever used and it is a portrait of a skank troll but still, this is about how well I draw. Easy A. What was I thinking?



And then we came to something that came to me easily. We started working with charcoal. Oddly enough, I took to this, even though I hate to have my hands dirty (although, why do I like playing with mud but hate gardening (does that make sense? No. I didn't think so)). And then we moved on to the best part of the class. Well, at least for me.

Abstract - Having an intellectual and affective artistic content that depends solely on intrinsic form rather than on narrative content or pictorial representation: abstract painting and sculpture.

Is it surprising that I would do well with an abstract charcoal drawing? Probably not. Because it wasn't the drawing that amazed my teacher so much. It was the title. She raved over this and it was quite gratifying. The following piece of artwork is probably all that kept me from flunking my class (I think I got a C).

It is entitled "Alien Spirits Dancing Madly, Shouting Their Triumphs To The Gods."




This is a poor imitation of the original. That one mysteriously vanished from the classroom.

Congratulate me. This post is 100% Gil free. Okay. 99.9% Gil free.

What Would Happen? - Updated

Remember here when I used a quote and offered 50 points to anyone who got the answer right with out googling (or yahooing)? Remember? No? Well, it's too bad that no one answered this because you lost out completely on a wonderful prize package and...oh, yeah, like I have a wonderful prize package. I still can't figure out how to burn a stupid CD or get someone who happens to live in Portugal (who could that be) send me her address so I can mail her the very cool Pink Panther magnet I bought for her back in April and then forgot to bring to Portugal.

Anyway, the quote is from "So I Married An Axe Murderer" which is, quite frankly, one of the best movies ever made. Mike Myers is brilliant and you should all go watch it right now. I have spoken. I'll wait. Oh, okay, you can read the rest of the post now but I expect to hear all about how you enjoyed the comic genius of Mike Meyers and how much you are grateful to me for suggesting that you see the movie (Beth, no, I do not expect you to watch this movie. You and I have completely different tastes in movies and I think you might smack me. Plus, you did watch "Big Trouble" with me. However, I seem to recall being forced (I kid, I kid) to watch "Casablanca" and "Gone With the Wind").

The quote pretty much explains how I am feeling right now. I'm smitten. I'm in deep smit. I don't want to be, I am fighting against it with all my power (and, as Queen of the Universe, I have a lot of power (oh, hell, no I don't. I am a weak and ineffectual Queen but you all love me so that's enough to keep me going on those days when the other Queens are mocking me (my God, I am weird, aren't I?)) because it has been so long since I've actually really liked a guy. You may be thinking "But, Dana, that's just not true. What about Bobby? And Data?" And then I will shake my head sadly and say "Oh, Internet, you just don't understand me, do you?"

There was nothing serious about my slight infatuation for Bobby, I just really liked his hands and it was fun to pretend that there was this huge faux romance going on. I mean, seriously, who would have a lime studded wedding dress? And the whole Data thing? That wasn't serious either. It was just a slight "Hmm? I wonder." Because, let's face it, I have been out of the dating game for many, many years so there is no wonder that I would have the occasional twinge at the sight of some decent hands or the wonders of a scruffy bearded face. Another way of putting this would be that they are merely eye candy.

Rachel asked me what the worst would happen if I told Gil that I liked him. This was my response to her:

"Hmm, the worst that could happen. Let me count the ways.

There were two men that I told them how I felt - one was the previously mentioned guy I used to work with. His name was Michael and he was Greek (probably still is, now that I think of it) and I adored him. He was an English teacher and incredibly smart and actually encouraged me to read Kafka (which I hate. I'll stick with Nora Roberts, thanks). Anyway, he was leaving the major call center because he got a job teaching and I couldn't just let him go without saying something so I wrote him a letter. On his last day, he gave me a big hug, thanked me for the letter and very subtly informed me that he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend. Not so devastating, I could deal with it. It was rejection but it was a nice way, you know what I mean?

The last guy I asked out, a man I refer to as the Cream Puff Man, had flirted with me constantly. He would come over and talk to me when he was leaving and spend 20 minutes talking to me about everything and nothing. He leaned (remember While You Were Sleeping?), he flirted, everyone was convinced that he liked me. So finally I decided to ask him out. You know what he tells me? "I don’t date people I work with." Um, hello? What the heck is that? Then don't flirt with me, asshole! It's just as well because all of my friends hate him and I had this particular idiosyncrasy where I would think of him and slap myself on the forehead. That is not conducive to romance.

So, yeah, I'll just wait a little and see what happens first. But maybe I'll let him know soon. Maybe."

The thing is that, yeah, I really like Gil. Well, duh. But the problem is not so much that I want to make a move on him or the fact that I am obsessing over whether or not he is even aware that I am female. The problem is that here is a guy that I find funny and brilliant and attractive. Here is a guy who makes me smile whenever I see him, even when he is vanting about some of the strangest things (can't say, will reveal his secret identity if I do), who makes me laugh, who likes a lot of the same movies and books that I do, who my friends like and approve of, who not only likes to read but would not criticize me for reading what I like (dated a guy who decided I was stupid because I didn't read books that he thought were worthwhile. Jackass), who, well, pretty much is the epitome of everything I have been looking for in a man without me even realizing it. And you might be asking yourself, why is this a problem?

But the thing is that here is a guy who is my friend and an important part of my life now. What if something happened to ruin that friendship? Although I do feel the butterflies every time he brushes against me or gives me that slightly crooked smile, is that electricity that I haven't felt in forever worth throwing away 8 years of celibacy away on something that I have no idea if it'll work (Not that he's throwing himself at my feet, begging me to sleep with him but you know what I mean, right)? Because, honestly, I don't think I could handle not having him as a friend

Things were less confusing when we joked about my boyfriend being Quagna. Or that I wouldn't meet The Guy until I was 90 and in the nursing home. Or when I was still in denial about liking Gil in the first place.

Rachel was trying to convince me that I should act upon this, let him know that I find him attractive using body language (I'm pretty sure she was kidding when she told me I should lick my lips seductively when singing. And I'm pretty sure she mentioned hip waggling). I told her that I couldn't do it. I was frozen. Just call me the Ice Queen of the Universe. I can't act on this. And it's not just because I've done it before and it didn't work out well.

It's because all I know is that if you told me right now that I had the chance of a brief, passion filled, exciting, romantic encounter with him and then never talking to him again or spending the rest of my life without him ever knowing how I feel but we would always be friends, I would choose the friendship. I would rather participate in his life platonically than not be a part of it at all. So what does that mean? I'm not sure. I don't think I want to think about it anymore. Maybe I need to go back to being in denial. Gil? Who's that? I don't fancy him one bit.

Anyway, our title comes from the Meredith Brooks song that I've tried at karaoke a few times. Beth used to sing this song a lot but hasn't been lately and I really like it. I think it is the 2nd sexiest song I know (the first would be "Kiss Me" by Melissa Etheridge). It happens to be very fitting. What would happen?

I promise to have a post about something that does not revolve around Gil in a day or two. Really.

August 9, 2005 - Okay. Me again. Slight vant here, nothing major. Went online this morning. Went to My Way to see what the weather was like in Portugal since I had a few minutes talking to Johnny (right now it's 73 degrees. I could deal with it). Saw my horoscope.

Now I realize that astrology is by no means an exact science. I also realize that when someone (in this case, astrology.com) writes a horoscope, it is being marketed to millions of people and is not going to be accurate and concise and directly to the point. But would you please tell me what the hell does this mean?

"What's most important is not picking the 'right' path, but picking any path, period. Yes, it is crucial that you make decisions that take all the pros and cons into account, but if you hesitate too long, it'll be moot -- the decision will be made for you. So take a deep breath, turn around three times, and then point in the direction that you think you should go. Most likely, it will be exactly the right one for you."

Hello? Vague much (I think I might watch too many Buffy and Angel reruns)? If I knew what direction to point to, I wouldn't be this frazzled!

I need a horoscope that will say "Dana. Today, in your quest for wuv, twue wuv, you will find the perfect opportunity to tie Gil down and lick his neck. Go for it!" Or it will say "Dana. Gil is not the right guy. He is a good friend and should stay that way. You will be single for the rest of your life. Sorry."

Is anyone else laughing over the fact that I am probably the most spontaneous woman in the universe and yet I'm complaining that said universe is not ordered exactly the way I want it to be?

What Would Happen - Meredith Brooks

Electricity, eye to eye
Hey don't I know you
I can't speak
Stripped my senses
On the spot
I've never been defenseless
I can't even make sense of this
You speak and I don't hear a word

Chorus:
What would happen if we kissed
Would your tongue slip past my lips
Would you run away, would you stay
Or would I melt into you
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust
Spontaneously combust

The room is spinning out of control
Act like you didn't notice
Brushed my hand

Forbidden fruit
Ring on my finger
You're such a moral, moral man
You throw it away, no question
Will I pretend I'm innocent

Chorus

I struggle with myself again
Quickly the walls are crumbling
Don't know if I can turn away

Chorus

A day(s) in the life

Since I really don't have anything major to talk about (I'm working on a post or two about random stuff, memories from my teenhood) right now and since we all need a break from Gil because otherwise I will obsess about everything that he has ever said to me and should I listen to Rachel and say something to him about it or should I just play it cool and wait to see what happens and am I going to see him tonight and I wonder if he knows and if he does, does he mind that I am absolutely crazy about him and oh, my God, do you see what I mean?

So, in order to save us from my babbling, I bring you pictures of Eddy. Spoiled little brat that he is, I can't even tell you these are pictures of the only male who really loves me because yeah, he really doesn't. He adores Keem with every little fibre of his fluffy being.

Last weekend, when Beth picked me up for scrapbooking, we had this conversation:

DM: Eddy slept with me last night.
B: Keem's out of town?
DM: Yes.

How sad is it that my cat will only spend time with me if Keem is not around? Oh, I'll get the occasional, "Hello, human, I will allow you to pet me momentarily while I brush against your legs but that's it. Don't get any ideas that I might actually welcome you picking me up. Sigh. Now I must squirm out of your arms and go and wash myself because you have soiled my glorious fur." At least he does this to Jeff as well so I can't feel completely slighted. Other than the fact that, hello, you ungrateful furball, you're my cat!

Anyway, here are some pictures of Eddy that I've taken lately.



When Eddy was a kitten, I could wrap his tail around him 3 times. It is still fairly long.



He has a fascination for finding places he shouldn't get into and getting into them. Here he has decided that he absolutely must go to the gym with Jeff.



"What? What do you mean I can't go? I bet they would love me at the gym!"



When we were in Portugal, Johnny had wanted to know what Jeff looked like since we joked about the fact that he was her future husband (when we force her to come and live in America because Portugal is too darn far away (although, when I am rich, I am going to buy a flat and live there in the winter so I suppose she can stay)). Jeff never did send her an email so I took the opportunity to snap this picture of him with Eddy.



The cat is quite spoiled, as you can see from this picture. He thinks nothing of drinking from our mugs of water or trying to steal food from us. We had a fight over my pizza the other day. I had to keep shoving him away so he wouldn't climb into the box.



"Why, yes, I am adorable. Certainly you may take my picture. Anything for my adoring fans." He will do what we refer to as his "roly-poly Eddy" routine. He especially likes to run into the hallway when we come home and do this. This is to encourage us (and when I say us, I really mean Keem) to pet him.



I love that tail. When he escapes into the hallway, he will pad along, his tail curved into a slight question mark.



Speaking of the hallway, what is that? Is the hallway haunted?



No, it is just Eddy. Wondering why we humans insist on closing our doors because hello, how else is he supposed to explore?



Here he is slightly annoyed with me because, when I was taking pictures of the river from the living room, I wouldn't let him near the open window. Cat. We live on the 26th floor. You're not going to survive the fall. Back off.



Normally he is the biggest ham in the world and loves to pose for the camera. But he apparently got tired of me playing paperazzi and stalked off.

Okay, I'm done now. It's 6 AM, time to go back to bed for a few hours. I would bring you new pictures of Josh but I don't have any and Kari's afraid you're all a bunch of stalkers (okay, not you but that really creepy guy over there).

The only good thing about having your bedroom face the East is that when the sun rises, the light makes the river appear like liquid silver (not that I could get a decent picture of the effect). And the occasional gorgeous pic of the sunrise.



Now I'm really done. Talk to you later, all. Have a good day (night) and I'm sure we'll be back on the topic of my beliked tomorrow.

Alcohol

Hey. In case you're wondering, this post will be about alcohol. And why I am never ever ever EVER going to drink again. Ever.

Some background here. I started smoking when I was 13. Because it was (snorts hysterically, realizing what an idiot she was) cool. Alcohol and drugs following shortly after, our heroine (that would be me) falls in with a bad crowd and began to do stupid things. Some of these are funny, some of these are horrifying.

Some examples:

1. The night I was babysitting the four children from hell and my friend and neighbor suggested that we should get stoned before we go. Yeah, because that's great AND responsible. Plus, we couldn't get in touch with "our connection" and decided to try popping some pills instead. Except when she encouraged me to steal the Dexatrim from the corner store, I grabbed the wrong package and ended up with something else that started with a D. I do not remember what it was but it did not give us the feeling that we wanted. So then we raided medicine cabinets. I don't remember what we ended up taking all together but it was enough, that when I went upstairs to get a blanket for one of the kids (because the parents of the spawn of Satan thought "Hey, I know! What will make Dana's life more horrendous? How about if we let her baby-sit the demon children of our friends for the exact same amount of money? That'll be great!"), I heard this crashing sound and then realized it was because I had passed out. I think we figured out later that I had taken the equivalent of 50-60 aspirins. God protects the stupid, is all I have to say, since there weren't any more adverse effects.

2. The night I was dumb enough to drink 5000 kamikazes (okay, probably not that many) while in Stillwater and decided that, hey, I should protect my friend by distracting this really annoying guy who is hitting on her. And what better way to do that then have sex with him at a construction site! Wow. I sure have great judgment when I'm drinking! Here's the link if you want to read about this night. And yes, if you read it and find yourself laughing in places, that's okay. While it was a traumatic experience at the time, I am way over it.

3. When I was living in Madison, there was this guy that was gorgeous and wonderful and funny and sweet and quite perfectly perfect. And he liked me. And he would flirt with me in this gentle and caring manner that was leading up to him asking me out (or so I found out later). But then, one night when he was over at the house that my friends (down to just Becky at this point, I think) had rented, a group of us decided to play spin the bottle. With shots of tequila. This, just in case you hadn't figured it out, is not a good combination.

Now, I used to have no problem with my liquor. None. In fact, I drank tequila all the time. When Becky and I used to hang out at the bar that our landlord bounced at (and he was wonderful and would get us in with no cover and for happy hour, they fed you and it was great because half the time we couldn't afford to eat (although if I think about it, perhaps we would have more money for food if we didn't drink so damn much)), I would go up to the bar and order a shot of tequila. When the bartender asked me if I wanted the salt and lime to go with it, I would scoff and say "Please. I drink my tequila like a man." This would completely shame the five or six guys standing around with their salt and lime. Especially after they watched me slam the tequila right there. One night, Becky and I figured that we drank over 30 shots apiece. And somehow, miraculously, we made it home in one piece. This might be because not all of the shots were tequila.

But on this night, the spin the bottle night (sorry, I went off on a tangent again. I'm good at that), the tequila was having an adverse effect on me. All I really remember about this is that sweet, wonderful, attractive guy spun the bottle, the bottle pointed to me and he leaned in to kiss me. Finally, finally, our lips would touch and we would kiss and realize that we were meant for each and then we would make sweet, sweet love, quite possibly in the rain, and then get married and have the proper amount of children (2.5) with a white picket fence. Let me rephrase that. We would live in a home with a white picket fence, not have children with the white picket fence because then the children would have pointy heads and that would be bad.

Since I do not have children (that I know about), obviously something happened to prevent our miraculous romantic encounter. What was it? What could it be? Oh, I know. I came this close (holds fingers together to demonstrate hardly any space at all) to throwing up on him. One moment, his lips are right there, within reach, the next moment, I am gagging and running to the bathroom where I spend the next 30 minutes praying to the porcelain God (Told you guys I was religious). When I finally managed to stop heaving, I returned to the living room to find out that Mr. Wonderful was gone. Sheesh. Almost throw up on a guy and he loses interest. I don't get that at all (yes, I am being sarcastic).

4. The first time I ever got drunk was on blackberry brandy. I was over at a friend's house and, for some reason, she was in her room and I was out in the dining room with her dad and some guy and the dad offered me something to drink. Why he decided to serve me blackberry brandy when I was 14 or 15, I'll never know. Why he combined the brandy with Cheez-Its is another mystery. I do remember staggering home and somehow my mother never found out.

5. A few times with the really bad influence that lived next door to us (I called her Lorna (fake name) since really bad influence that lived next door to us is really a long name), we decided to go roller skating (Saints North. Before roller blading and inline skating. And the song that would play a lot was Stroke Me by Billy Squier. God, I'm old) because it was a great place to meet boys. I have no coordination whatsoever. What helps you in this endeavor, the needing to balance on a total of eight tiny wheels? Oh, let's slug back half a bottle of vodka! Or, oh, hey, you don't have any access to vodka? How 'bout you drink some cold medicine. That'll help. Oh, and hey, some girl cut you off on the rink? How 'bout you try to take that bitch down a peg or two? That'll be fun. Although I must say that the look on Lorna's face when she saw me try to fight this girl who was probably four inches taller than me was priceless.

6. When I was 16 or 17, my mom had me in counseling because she was worried how I was reacting to my parents divorce (which I never understood since I was the one that said "It's about time" when she told me she was leaving my dad (loved him dearly but he was not a good husband or father when he was drinking (hmm, perhaps I could have learned from this lesson)). One day I went over to my friend Kathy's house to spend the night with her and my other friend Sue. I remember that we spent the night drinking Sloe Screws (Sloe Gin and orange juice) and I was mixing my own drinks. Not aware of the power of the Sloe Gin, I decided to fill my glass about 1/2 Gin, 1/2 orange juice. Yeah. Because I'm brilliant.

After a few of these glasses, I am feeling no pain and enjoying the movie we are watching (Grease 2. Which explains, now that I think of it, why I defend this movie when people are running it down. No wonder I enjoyed it. I was drunk! I don't think I've seen it since).

I do not remember this at all but apparently, I got up to go to the bathroom, staggered down the hallway and stopped to ask Kathy a question:

DM: Kathy?
K: Yes, Dana?
DM: What's this on the wall?
K: That's a candelabra, Dana.
DM: Oh. Okay. Excuse me, Mr. Candelabra.

The next morning, my mom is calling and is furious because I didn't come home in the morning like I was supposed to and we're going to be late for my counseling appointment. I had best get myself home right now.

Kathy drives me home and Mom orders me in the car. I get to counseling in time (barely).

After counseling, Mom and I are getting into the car, when I lean out the door and throw up on the ground (yuck). I sit up slowly, waiting for the lecture I know is going to come. Crap. I am so busted.

Mom: Were you drinking last night?
DM: Yes.

There is a slight pause. I wait for it. The lecture is coming, I can sense it. The "You're too young to drink, I can't believe you did this, you are grounded forever, missy" lecture.

Mom: You realize that the headache you have now is the result of 100s of brain cells dying, right?
DM: Yes.
Mom: Good.

Wait. That's it? Dying brain cells? You're kidding me, right? But apparently she felt that my hangover was enough. The horrible headache would teach me a lesson. I never told her that, other than the vomit, I felt just fine.

7. Last night, I drank 7 shots. Seven. Seven wonderful little concoctions called the Buttery Nipple (dumbest name in the world but so yummy). And then I did the worst possible thing I could ever do under the influence of alcohol.

I tried to have a conversation.

I am not really sure what I said but I am afraid that I made a complete fool of myself.

I do remember watching Poker (why, why, why do people watch poker? It is so boring) and seeing the word flop. I think I said something about flop being a fun word. And then mentioned segue. And then Char said you could take a segway tour of the Mississippi and she would fall over. And I said "You could flop on the segway." And I laughed. Because it wasn't funny at all but hey, I was drunk.

I'm sure Beth and Char remember more of what I said and how I embarrassed myself. I do know that Gil's name came up and I'm sure I said something really stupid about how much I like him. Thank God he was not there.

I am never ever drinking again. Ever. I don't care how good the Buttery Nipple tastes. Mmm. Butterscotch Schnaaps and Bailey's Irish Cream. Little drops of heaven on your tongue.

Here's a picture of one. Beth took it.

Okay. Maybe I'll only have one more. And it's not like I have to drive. And maybe they'll come up with a non-alcoholic version of schnaaps and Bailey's? Hey. It could happen.

And our title comes from the Barenaked Ladies song entitled (You guessed it!) Alcohol.

Alcohol, my permanent accessory
Alcohol, a party-time necessity
Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself
O Alcohol, I still drink to your health

I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol

Forget the cafe latte, screw the raspberry iced tea
A Malibu and Coke for you, a G&T for me
Alcohol, your songs resolve like
My life never will
When someone else is picking up the bill

I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
O Alcohol, would you please forgive me?
For while I cannot love myself
I'll use something else

I thought that Alcohol was just for those with
Nothing else to do
I thought that drinking just to get drunk
Was a waste of precious booze
But now I know that there's a time
And there's a place where I can choose
To walk the fine line between
Self-control and self-abuse

I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
Would you please ignore that you
Found me on the floor
Trying on your camisole?
O Alcohol, would you please forgive me?
For while I cannot love myself
I'll use something else.

Would you please forgive me?

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You

Sometimes it just feels that the whole world is out to get you. That everywhere you turn, someone is watching you or plotting or you find yourself buying something that allows Jean-Luc Picard to track your every movement (this may be why I own 3 copies of the first Harry Potter book - I was not a huge fan of The Catcher In the Rye and I would rebel against purchasing it).

Now, I'm not paranoid or anything and when I say the world is out to get me, I'm not referring to the fact that Jean-Luc Picard is going to torture me or anything (Yes, I love the movie Conspiracy Theory. Even though I'm not overly fond of Julia Roberts and I can never remember the name of the character that Patrick Stewart played. Doctor Jonas. Why can't I remember that? How hard is it? Pfft), I am referring to the fact that odd things have been happening.

Monday, when Beth and I were at Manny's with her mother, her father and her mother's boyfriend, celebrating the life of her Grandmother (she died earlier this year and we had a memorial service for her), I mentioned a few of my theories about life. Beth says to her mother "Dana has many theories. She may actually believe in every conspiracy theory ever created." Which is just ridiculous because really, I don't believe that there is a secret Mole Man race living in the Earth's core coming up to get us. I do believe that it is arrogant to not believe in life in other galaxies because that is saying that God only created us and ooh, aren't we all so great? We watched a movie that supported this theory this week.

I have never seen Ed Wood but Beth enjoys exposing me to movies I've never seen. I thought it was a great movie and so, after watching this movie, we decided to watch Plan 9 From Outer Space. Here is where Beth and I differ completely. While we can both embrace certain movies as being very good, she has a slight problem when I start raving about how great other movies are. Here is a bit of our conversation (loosely translated because I don't remember everything):

DM: I love this movie. It is great!
Beth: Dana. No. It's a terrible movie. You really can't see a movie you don't love, can you?
DM: I hated Romper Stomper (for those of you not in the know, yeah, that's pretty much the only movie I have ever been able to say that I hated).

Later.

DM: The dialouge is great!
Beth: No, it's not. It's horrible dialouge.
DM: But Ed Wood supports my theory!

I think I rendered Beth speechless for a moment because I was defending the movie.

Here is probably my favorite scene in the whole movie - some of the great dialouge (plus the guy playing Eros was named Dudley Manlove. How can you go wrong with a name like that?):

Colonel Tom Edwards: Why is it so important that you want to contact the governments of our earth?
Eros: Because of death. Because all you of Earth are idiots.
Jeff Trent: Now you just hold on, Buster.
Eros: No, you hold on.

Anyway, before I run off on complete tangents, let's get back to what's been going on lately.

I mentioned the Cosmic Joker who has been messing with my mind by programing my iPod to play extremely romantic but not sappy music at me. This has not stopped, especially with karaoke on Sunday and Angie was there and she sang "Crazy For You," "At Last" and "How Do I Live." These are all extremely romantic songs. Dang it.

Angie was informed about the whole Gil situation. This mainly came about because Beth said "Angie and Amy need to know about this." And I said "No, they don't." And Beth said "Yes, they do, you need to tell them." And I gave in because I am weak and cannot keep a secret to save my life. And I like talking about him which I hate to admit and sometimes try to deny that I like him but for some reason, no one believes me.

Angie had asked me if I got any vibes and I said "My stomach gets butterflies when he is around." She and Beth had an "ohhhh" moment. We actually had a lot of "ohhhh" moments because Angie introduced us to her new boyfriend, Toby, and he is very nice and when the crackhead rose seller asked if he wanted to buy a rose, he said "I already have my rose." Meaning Angie, of course. Ohhhhh.

Then Beth started singing "(Gil's real name) and Dana sitting in the rain, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Angie and Beth are having so much fun with this but I am really freaking out because hello, what if someone overhears them? Argh! So I asked "What? Are we in high school now?"

So you know what that encourages them to do? Pass notes! This is the note when they finally let me read it.

B: Dana has a crush!
A: Is his name (Gil's real name)?
B: You might be right!

Then, after I start hyperventilating, Beth does destroy the note. In a huge, musical production sort of way. Bryan calls her up to the stage and she says "I'll be there as soon as I destroy this note." So that encourages Bryan to start digging through the trash and, when I start walking toward him in slow motion, crying "Nooooooooooooo," he grabs the trash can and walks away. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. OH MY GOD! What is he going to do with it? That question is soon answered when he asks Bobby for some Scotch Tape.

Beth takes pity on me (probably not wanting to drive me to the hospital when I have a heart attack if Bryan reads this out loud) and tells Bryan he already knows the secret. He says "Oh" and throws the note away. Crisis averted.

Liz was there and we had a lot of fun talking to her and Barry. I got into an interesting discussion with Barry about religion, aliens and working customer service. I'm not sure how these all connect but hey, just call me Tangent Girl (which apparently is a mathematic term. Who knew? Well, besides Beth and Barry).

There was not a Gil sighting. Which is probably just as well since Liz decided to buy me a couple of drinks. She said that she wanted to celebrate my birthday (6 months later) since she had missed it back in March. But I have my doubts. I think there is a conspiracy to get me to forget myself and be rattled by his smile and the way he smells (on everyone else beer repulses me. He makes beer smell sexy. God help me) so I might lean over and lick him.

Anyway, just so you don't think it's just iTunes and my friends in on the conspiracy, I have proof. Proof! That the world is out to get me.

Johnny left me a comment yesterday about going to the ocean and that it was really hot in Portugal and I would hate it. So I went to My Way where I have my personalized page and have a section that tells me what the weather is like in Saint Paul, Lisbon and London. While I am doing that, I see two things that convince me that the world is conspiring against me in a "You should be thinking about this all the time until you can't accomplish anything. Hee hee!"

My horoscope (I'm not one who believes that the horoscope is completely accurate so don't panic. I do think it's fun. I'm a Pisces and it's fairly accurate as to what I am like) - You're someone who can have a good time just about anywhere and under any kind of circumstance. And if the circumstances are already pleasing, flirty and fun -- well, watch out! The stars have cooked just that kind of pleasant scenario up for you in this moment, so grab your fork and knife, put your napkin on your lap and dig in. How often does a delicious dish like this come along anyway?

My fortune (it's like a fortune cookie of the day. I love it) - It's right in front of your nose.

And then today we have:

Horoscope - Words of love come easily to you right now. You, splendidly sensitive creature that you are, are already one of the more attuned signs of the zodiac, but today your powers of perception are heightened more than they normally are. Some people might call you dreamy, but you know that you're in touch with the things that really matter. Find someone you love and tell them just how much they mean to you.

Fortune - You can open doors now with a combination of charm and patience (Well, yeah. I've been saying that all along).

And here's the quote of the day - I will make love my greatest weapon and none on who I call can defend against its force....My love will melt all hearts liken to the sun whose rays soften the coldest day. - Og Mandino

Oh, world, please stop messing with me. This is making me crazy.

And speaking of crazy, let's go back to Conspiracy Theory and our song of the day (do not read too much into this. I just like this song and it played a big part in the movie. There is no love. There is only incredibly horrible like that is overwhelming. I'm smitten. I'm in deep smit (50 points for anyone who can figure out what this quote is from without googling it (no fair using yahoo or other search engines)).

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You - Frankie Valli

You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.
You'd be like heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived.
And I thank God I'm alive.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.

Pardon the way that I stare.
There's nothing else to compare.
The thought of you leaves me weak.
There are no words left to speak.
But if you feel like I feel.
Then let me know that it's real.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.

I love you baby, and if it's quite all right,
I need you baby to warm my lonely night.
I love you baby.
Trust in me when I say:
I love you baby,
Don't let me down, I pray.
I love you baby,
Now that I found you.
Stay.
And let me love you, baby.
Let me love you...