Narcoleptic Squirrel

So, exactly one week ago tomorrow, the bride will be married for one week. Which means that one week ago, I was performing my bridesmaidly duties.
I have to say, the bride was much calmer than I would have been. I owuld have been kicking ass and taking names. The first ass kicking would have gone to one of the bridemaids (who I had grown to like until this point). First of all she was wearing a way-too-short-for-church miniskirt to the rehearsal, with platform sandals. She did have a cute black blouse on, but it was unbuttoned pretty low…enough so that I could see what I thought was her bra, it turned out to be a satin trimmed tank top. Said tank top bared her belly, however, she didn’t want to show her belly in church. riiight Then at the dinner…I was so lucky to sit across from her while she smoked like a chimney, and talked on her cell phone. I wouldn’t have minded the smoking so much if it a) weren’t blowing right at me b) I wasn’t trying to eat 3)if it ever would have ceased momentarily.
Okay, maybe that would have only been a bitch slap, not an ass kicking. But there would have been an ass kicking at the hall that evening. We had planned to go to the hall to decorate, and couldn’t get in until 9:15. Fine…after all, this event was about the bride and groom. I was their bitch for the weekend. Well, apparently chimney-girl didn’t know about this, so she made other plans. To go to the bar. To get guys to buy her drinks. Apparently I don’t know much about going to the bar, because this was important. So, after a lot of whining, she left…the rest of us decorated. Hey, whatever. I didn’t think that hour made the difference, but I guess it did.
The next day, I found out at the salon that one of the groomsmen was in jail. Okay, I wouldn’t have kicked his ass…but I would have been screaming. I admire the bride’s cool and collected attitede through the situation. He did get out in time, and it all worked out…and his tux fit.
Which brings me to the real ass kickings. First the previously offending bridemaid. She lost weight since she got her dress. Enough that the dress was falling off of her. Apparently she had never heard of a magic person called a seamstress. She said her dress was too loose, and I recommended pinning it on the inside to her bra. She said that was also way too big and falling down. Okay, I can see one or the other…but both?? Really??? Fortunately, the photographer pinned her up the back. It didn’t look ideal…but was definitely better than the Matron-of-honor. She is an ample gal. She comes out of the dressing room, and I thought she was kidding. She was literally spilling out of the dress. I thought it was a haha moment, and she would tuck herself in correctly. Nope. The dress was just way too small. Why she didn’t know sooner…I do not know. Why she didn’t get the dress altered, or get a new dress, I do not know. What I do know is that the poor dress was stretched to the limit, and it looked very inappropriate. I swear I saw nipple a few times. and at the reception, she had to spend the evening tugging the dress. Not to mention the dress was folding over onto itself, trying to fit. I would have gone way bridezilla at that point. Penney’s had the same dresses….I would have made her get a new one, or done some searching and found a different dress altogether for her. BUt then again, I am a bitch. I also shrunk out of my dress. While I didn’t have time to order a bra (in my size I have to order…as mentioned previously), I found one that fit pretty well. Then, I scrambled to get my dress altered to fit properly. I thought about pinning or something, but I knew it wouldn’t look good. I did not want my friend, the bride, to look at her pictures in 20 years, and wonder, “WTF mate?” Although, I still wasn’t the cutest bridesmaid. The other bridesmaid (I call her the other normal bridesmaid) was. Sadly, ot of the 4 weddings I have been in…I was only the cutest at my sister’s wedding…and I was just shy of being 10. Sad…
Anyway, apart from the ass-kickings, the wedding was great. The bride looked lovely, her dress fit correctly…and we bonded. The ceremony was lovely…they are a great couple. The reception was fun…I got a good groomsman. He pulled my chair out for me at the table. He grooved with me to the weird music the dj played before he started the actual bridal party dance song. It was cool. The food was good….the drinks were good…and the hall had mounts on the walls. I mean, like deer and brids….not like the kama sutra. I even had G take some mildly innaproprate pictures of me with the mounts. I will post them when they come back.
The only drag, was I couldn’t find the happy couple before we left to say good-bye 🙁

So, as of Tuesday…I have one less obsession. America’s Next Top Model was announced…..
…and it was my girl Yoanna! Yay!!! I was way too emotionally attatched to it, so I would have been heartbroken if she would have lost. Shandi was too skinny, and still has some work to do. Mercedes was cute…but too cute to me. Yoanna is freaking drop dead gorgeous.
Now, I’m left with The Apprentice. I think Troy will win. And I want Katrina gone…I am way sick of her!
Man, I am sick. Is there a twelve step program I can join??

Wow…this could be me…except that I have yet to read any Gibson…much to G‘s chagrin. Don’t get me wrong…I want to long pause, I just haven’t gotten a round tuit.
Today was just sort of a weird, up-down-all-around sort of day. I started off grouchy because it was all dreary and wet, which meant that any plan to go for a jog went out the window (I’m a beginner…which means you’ll never catch me in some sort of thermal spandex suit, running in all sorts of weather as though to mock all of the bloated carcasses commuting solo in their automobiles). then, upon arriving at work (on time I might add…despite our stupid clock behind the counter that gets faster by the second) it changed to guilt. I mentioned my job interview here…of course, I have yet to mention to my boss that I am job hunting. Mostly because I do not yet know where said hunt is going to take me, secondly, because I want to have said new job before I put in any sort of notice.
Anyhoo, I felt guilty because we were discussing new summer products and merchandising…and this little voice in my head reminded me that my boss has no idea I want the hizzell out. Shortly after, I felt all warm and happy as this little girl’s mom bought her a fairy troll and she didn’t even want it in a bag…she just wanted to clutch it in her wee hands, her smile so wide her face was in danger of splitting in two.
Then I remembered what a shit-piss-fucking mother-scratching job I really have. See, I am stuck in ye-olde-shoppe all alone, all day. I can’t just run out for lunch, or to the store, or go for a walk around the block…nothing. This is only infuriating to me, becasue everyone else, who is in the attached office (including my boss) can do whatever they please. Including leaving in the middle of the day (granted to see her husband who just had surgery) with no return time…thus leaving me to unpack all of our deliveries, by myself. This put me behind for closing…so really, I was in no mood for her to stroll back in and complain about how she was leaving work late today. I was further ticked, because a lunch group came in today. These things are catered, and we get to eat leftovers from the event. Well, fortunately, the tour guide came over to let me know there was food, and offered to watch the counter (see, we baristas are usually overlooked. Apparently we don’t need to eat or something, which is why I have yet to get an actual lunch break at work). Unfortunately, they were about to put the food in the trash, so I got salad, green beans (which were soggy and not-hot anymore), and some mashed potatoes…and no main dish. This wouldn’t have been a big deal, if when my boss came over, she wouldn’t have thrown away and entire plate of food, including entree, into the trash. Then, when one of the owners came over to see why I was there so late, I had to remind myself to control the fist of death, seeing as he is the father of my boss. Grrrrr…
In the grand scheme of things, I should just be happy to have a job…however, it frustrates me that I am expected to do the crap work for these people, while they shit on me. Today reminded of how many times I have been screwed by these people…from behind…without lube…and while they get off like happy little bunnies…I am left with rectal bleeding.
Why no, I don’t work at Wal-mart…why do you ask?
Of course tomorrow I am sure I will feel all guilty again. I just need to kick ass at Saturday’s interview, get the job, and get up the courage to give my notice. Thanks for bearing with me.

Man, I love G, but he makes the stinkiest food ever. Right now all I can smell is the taquitos he made earlier. I do not want to deny his right to microwave frozen taquitos, but they reek. They give me a headache. He also has a thing for sirloin burger soup, which also reeks. Sometimes the Ramen has an odor to it as well…but nothing like the soup or the taquitos.
Maybe he’ll grow out of it.
Speaking of which, where are everyone’s updates? I need something to read dagnabbit.
Says the girl who didn’t update for like a week-and-a-half…or two weeks or whatever it was…

I have a job interview Saturday…ssshhh…don’t tell my boss….with a place I seriously want to work. I already submitted my resume, and technically this is a job fair that they are having, but I was invited to come in for an interview. I work until one-ish, and the fair starts at 2. I haven’t interviewed for a job in about 7 years…YIKES! So, send me some good vibes. I am seriously afraid. I took a chunk of a paycut for my current job, which has no benefits, and has screwed me over more than once….so I would a) love to work for this new company b) could use both the higher wage and benefits that exist 3) they have kick-ass merchandise that I would get a discount on.
Man, I will be a mess this week…this is too much like an audition, Audtions make me crazy…but not a crazy as work does…so I have a feeling I will get through it…

I really shouldn’t be here…
Wow, that sounds like my whole week. I shouldn’t eat these Girl Scout Cookies, I should some yoga this morning, I shouldn’t stay up so late, I should eat a salad….the list could go on.
So, I will say for now, that the wedding was enjoyable. Non-pretentious, and very appropriate for the couple…the couple who are very appropriate for each other. I think that’s what made it fun. But, I shall save the details for latah.
For now, I would love to talk about my bargain-shopping adventure. I promised my mother I would accompany her on a Red-hat excursion. Never mind that I am too young to wear a red hat, and instead wore my super funky fuschia hat…we decided to do some thrifting before hand. We stopped at this great shop called Second Hand Rose. The items there are donated, and the proceeds go to a women’s shelter. We didn’t have much time…the store was about to close. There was a sign on the door proclaiming “Orange ticket items: 4 for a $1!” Knowing time was of the essence, I sprung into action, first hitting the section of jeans and slacks. I scanned the racks looking first for appropriate color and texture. Then, my eye went to the size. As I was about to give up, a dark pair of Express jeans in a 5/6 leapt into my hands, they looked new, no weird fading or dirt. I wasn’t sure that they would work, and planned to try them on. I continued, first through dresses, then to tops. I lovely sheer cotton blouse with delicate tulle detailing leapt out next. It looked as though it could have been at least $50 new, judging the quality of fabric and workmanship. For $2, it would be mine. Then, a red faux-suede blouse jumped out at me…marked $2, the tag was orange. I was informed by my mother, the seasoned thrifter, that you needed four to get the deal. I was off in hunt for more orange tags. At that ppoint, I only cared about the orange tag, not about the item. I succeeded in finding three cute items, a red ribbed turtleneck sweater, an orange fleece pullover (nice fleece, too…not cheap stuff) and an orange tunic top…all with the appropriate tags. Score! Then the lights went out. It was time to go. I had no time to try on the jeans. I checked the tag, which said “$2.” I decided I could risk it. My mom and I carried our selections to the front. Our total was eight-something. We left with two bags of clothes. We had enough time to hit one more shop. The selection at Sunshine was hit or miss, but we stopped in. I finally found a cute Limited top in black and white, with some cute detailing. We had three tops, and our total was $9. Hmmm…not quite the bargains.
When we finally got home, I tried everything on…it all fit, and looked good. Me, who has a bitch of a time finding pants, found a pair that fits as though it was made for me. YAY!! And, I found out that the senior discount is 50% (which my mom qualifies for). I wound up with five shirts and a pair of jeans for $3. This balanced out paying $3 for just the tank top at Sunshine.
Anyway, I am proud of my bargain-hunting prowess. I am also trying not to actually live in my new jeans…they are super comfy. I can’t imagine why anyone would give them up in the first place. I should wash them…along with everything else dirtied on the trip…and the sheets. Must. Have. Clean. Sheets.

Yeah, yeah, yeah…I’m on vacation. I’ve been reading, but not writing…so sue me. Well, not really. It’s just an expression. Besides, I have no money…so there.
It’s been a busy week. I started doing Tae Bo again. Billy is kicking my ass. Hopefully it will combat the cheating I have done. Friday, I met my friend Slone at Friday’s (oh the irony!). We stayed a long time…perhaps pissing off our server. But, we tipped him well, and by the time we pissed him off, we had no food for him to spit in. Then we went to the dollar store to pick up some stuff for her school spirit week. We had an overflowing cart full of stuff. We started pulling stuff from the cart and onto the checkout counter, hoping someone would show up to ring us up. We ran out of room on the counter, and a long line formed. Finally a very disgruntled clerk showed up. I really felt for the people in line behind us, but we were there first. We could have been all good-samaritan-y and let people go in front of us, but the line was long, and that would have been a lot of people. Then, we retired to her home. Her hubby played games, and we talked. Her sil and fiance came, and us ladies talked about our cats. For multiple hours. Yes, we are old. We were planning on going to the bar originally, but talking about cats took over.
Yesterday, I met Troll (what I call her, affectionately, mind you) for breakfast. Not enough time for all our catching up, as usual. All this time I thought she knew I was neurotic, but she thought I was only quirky. Now she knows why I can relate to Adrian Monk. Last night, I went to The Bride’s bachelorette party. After waiting for a long time to eat, I ate white bread. It was good…not great…but I was starving. I was only mildly annoyed when the waitress came back to our table and says to me, “I’m sorry, we don’t have Irish coffee…would you like a Spanish coffee?” First, I thought to myself, “WTF mate?” Then said something to the effect of, “It’s just whiskey in coffee?” (I mentally added the sugar, which I could handle myself…and that I don’t like cream). She sounded mystified that I would want whiskey in coffee…but she brought it, I added some Equal, and I was happy and warm. We then went to a bar. Not a club, a bar. It was weird to me, because the last time I was at the place, it was a nice restaurant…but now it’s a bar. Anyhow, we got a free round of drinks. There was karaoke (and not that I’m a karaoke snob or anything…but it wasn’t a good karaoke setup). I sang “Baby got back” For the Bride, and “Because I got High.” Some old toothless man was hitting on me, as well as an older toothed man who wanted me to sing a duet from “Grease.”
Ed note: I hate Grease. I like John Travolta, but I seriously have to wonder what crack he was smoking to have made the film version. Call me unamerican…but that’s the way I feel.
I eventually sang “Faith” and “Wrong Way” and there was discussion at our table about being able to do cheerleading stunts we could do in high school. I mentioned that I could still do the splits, and leg pulls. Some weird guy overheard me, and bet me $10 that I couldn’t do a leg pul. I asked him, “you’re saying you’ll give me $10 to pull my leg up to my head??” He said yes, slapping a ten onto the table. I did it and pocketed the ten (at which point he tried to say there were stipulations) So he asks each of us if we’re married…he proceeds to tell us that he’s married, then goes to sing a song and starts asking if any single women are interested in getting with a married man…between that and the scary toothless man who continued to hit on me…it was our cue to leave. That and we still had partying to do at a fellow bridesmaid’s house. Highlights included eating penis cake, and being guessed to be 21. The only drawback to the evening (outside of toothless man) was getting my Dad’s truck out of it’s parking spot…well, that and my coat still smells like smoke.
Tonight it was out to Ruby Tuesday’s with my old twirling buddies. I’ll leave it at we don’t get together often, and we stayed for five hours, thus closing the restaurant.
I miss G immensely…but fortunately, I brought a kitty with me. My parents’ cat hates me, so it’s working. Plus, G doesn’t have to worry about Crush eating our other cat’s prescription food. (Crush is a serious fatty) Speaking of which…remind me to tell you the story of Fred, my parents’ cat. Despite the fact that he hates me, he’s a neat cat.
For now, my boring self is going to bed.

So, I took my friend LaLa out to celebrate her birthday today. I always try to talk her into crazy escapades, but she always assures me that I would be the only one to get away with it, so we never engage in any escapades. *sigh* Today I wanted to pretend we were newly wed lesbians, but she wasn’t all the way on board. I am also trying to get a slightly offensive nickname…like mattress-back Michelle…only my name isn’t Michelle, so that won’t work…but something with equal amounts alliteration that wouldn’t quite be suitable for my stripper name. If anyone has an idea, that would be swell.
Later, we discussed the weight we’ve lost. We made a pact a while back that when we hit our goal weights we would go get our belly buttons pierced….because then we won’t have to pry the rings out from fat rolls to show them off…and really, who wants to look at fat rolls anyway? Anyway, i again lamented that I am not entirely sure that I can get my belly button pierced. You see, I don’t have an ordinary belly button. It’s not quite an outie, not quite an innie…and it looks just like….an eye. In fact, I’ve been told I should send a picture in to CBS to see if I can get work as their logo. Once, at the renaissance festival, I had a body painter guy paint my tummy. i told him to paint something cool and swirly. He painted it to look like an eyeball with wings.
so, back to the piercing. I have often thought that it would be cool, because it would be like an eyebrow piercing and belly button piercing all in one. So, I’ve decided that when I go in, I will ask the piercing guy (it could be a piercing lady, but I refer to everything as him, so it’s more habit than trying to be purposely exclusive) if he can pierce my twin sister’s eyebrow. I will then lift up my shirt and explain that i was supposed to be twins, but she never fully developed, so all that’s left is her eye…and I just know that she would want it pierced.
I’m going to practice my story, so that I’m ready. Hopefully it wasn’t just the flourescent lights of the parking ramp that made it amusing.