September 2005


I really think someone should invent a store that sells food packaged in only single serving sizes. What are we single people supposed to do with an entire loaf of bread if all we want is one sandwich? I have had countless loaves of bread, gallons of milk and boxes of cereal go bad before I was ever able to finish them. Not only that, if I make something delicious like spaghetti I end up with WAY too much of it and either end up throwing it away or eating it all (could explain those extra ten pounds I’ve found recently).

Why is it that they sell EVERYTHING in the extra super jumbo pack, but nothing comes in the hey-I-live-by-myself-and-nobody-else-is-going-to-eat-this pack? Even if they did sell things in smaller portions we’d end up spending more on it than the people who buy the extra super jumbo packs anyway…why is that?

Anyway, if I ever get the chance to make a suggestion to food product manufacturers, it will be to have single serving sizes available in everything from pasta to sour cream to canned soup.

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So, the guy in my last blog and several other men in my life have brought up a topic that I have been considering writing about for some time, and I’ve decided to finally unleash it on the myspace masses.

Why do fat, ugly men in our society feel like they have any right to judge women for being ugly or fat? I went to a party a few months back and this girl walks in, who is about the same size as me (aka not fat) wearing a tight shirt and cute jeans. The guy next to me, who could be a look-alike for jaba the hut, says to me and everyone around us, “Why would she wear a shirt like that?” And I promptly asked him what he meant, thinking perhaps he meant it was unsuitable for the occasion.

Nope, he said, “Well, I’m sure a shirt like that would look great on you, but it’s obviously not made for someone her size.” WHAT?!?!?! Are you kidding me with this? This girl was probably even skinnier than me, so this guy was just basically an ass. I couldn’t contain myself and had to regulate.

Men, if you’re fat and/or ugly PLEASE do not tell me when you think a perfectly good looking, normal sized girl is fat and/or ugly. You have NO RIGHT to be talking. Am I right ladies?

Our society puts way too much pressure on women to look good, while men are able to walk around in shabby looking clothes with unkempt hair. We’re expected to shave and do our makeup and hair every day for you men and you don’t even appreciate it when we do. It’s disgusting and I’m sick of it. Women ARE NOT objects made solely for your enjoyment and we are sick of being treated like nothing (at least I am).

So for you men out there who think you are god’s gift to women, take another look in the mirror. You’re nothing but a sad, miserable little man who will never be happy with anyone. Even if a super model came your way I’m sure you’d have some snide remark about her ass being too big or her eyebrows not being just so.

Okay, so I have a lot of crazy socks.  I buy them at Old Navy at the end of each season because they only cost about $1 (and you all know how much I love anything for $1).  So I have valentine’s socks, saint paddys socks, and most of all Christmas socks.  Well, Christmas is a ways off so I often get crazy looks when I wear them, but I’ve never been self-conscious about it until recently….

See, I have to dress nice for work but I don’t differentiate my socks for different occasions.  I just wear them.  Then the other day I was at work and I had to go to a chamber of commerce meeting and while I was sitting there I got the distinct feeling that someone was staring at my feet.  When I looked down I realized I had bright green socks on with santas all over them.  They were really noticeable considering the light brown slacks I was wearing. Hmmm….should I give up my sock habit?  Nah.  I think it makes me original. Plus it could work to my advantage as a conversation starter.

An example of the socks:


Photo courtesy of Robert Alvis

And, yes, I do realize this is a horrible picture of me.  Thanks guys.

Why do sappy love stories still act like the “L” word is such a big deal?  There is always a guy and a girl wrestling with the decision as to whether they should tell the other that they’re in love.  Do movie-makers do this just to make us feel like we should feel this way?  If so, I think it works, but I honestly believe the actual meaning of the word has been lost in our modern world.

The “L” word, so put because of its supposed taboo, is a nothing word in today’s society. People say “I love you” at the drop of a hat.  It’s almost cliche even.  I tell all of my friends male or female that I love them all the time.  And I mean it in the modern sense of the word.  I love my friends to death, all of them.  But when it comes to real actual love I’m not so sure I know how that’s supposed to feel because the word has always come tumbling out of my mouth so easily. The worst is that once you say it, you can’t go back.

This isn’t really a rant based on my life, it’s just a rant in general so don’t get any ideas people.  It’s just that I was thinking about words we use everyday and this one really bothered me.

I once read “The Giver” by Lois Lowry.  In the book, based on a modern society,  people don’t say they love each other because the word lost its meaning over time.  I really think that is the case today.  But then, maybe I’m just jaded and bitter.  Who knows?

All I know is I’m going to be much more careful when it comes to this word than I have been in the past.  I don’t want it to just be something I say when I say good bye or to say as an apology or to say just because I meant it the first time I said it. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to tell someone I’m in love with them again without feeling aprehensive about it.

My heart hurts right now.

I would definitely like these two ladies.  I aspire to be them…

When I went to DC this spring I saw these two old ladies and my first thought was, “I hope that’s me and my sister one day.”  As you all know, I hate old people (at least for the most part) and one day I’ll pay dearly for that sentiment, but I hope I’ll at least have my sister to hang out with still when I’m super old and lonely. We’ll go tour around all the cool places we never got to see when we were young…well, all the cool places she never got to see when she was young because I’m def seeing every place cool before I’m too old.

BTW The only thing that could have made this picture better would have been if these women were wearing matching old lady jogging suits.

Jess, if you’re reading this…we are SO wearing matching old lady jogging suits!

One of my friends recently posted a blog about a man he saw sitting by himself in a restaurant in France. The man seemed to be distraught about a lost love and ended up passing out in the restaurant. But it was the way  the story was recounted that made it very compelling.  It made me wonder what the man was really going through and made me want to make up an ending for the story.  It also made me start thinking of my own time in France…

When I lived in Paris I lived alone and I often ate alone in restaurants or did other things by myself that would normally be done in groups, things like going to the movies or visiting a museum, etc.  And for the most part I felt really comfortable on my own.  I never had to worry if someone else was bored at the museum or wanted to go see something else and  I never had to check with someone before making plans.

But then there were times when I’d be sitting there and my mind would begin churning.  At the time I was split up with Donald and I found myself feeling extremely lonely.  It was these times when I’d be sitting there and just find myself suddenly crying in a crowded restaurant, or, worse still, on the subway.

Once, in late December I had just taken Donald back to the airport via the subway system and he had given me his last 20 euros since he had no need for euros.  I had no money left in my bank account so I was grateful for the money.  On my way back the public transit authority began checking tickets and I had unknowingly purchased the wrong ticket for my trip.  Then and there I was forced to pay a 20 euro fine.  Exactly the amount of money I had.

I argued with the guy for some time, but he was unbudging and I was devastated.  All of the food I had imagined buying that night just disappeared and I was left there in shock.  The more I thought about it the more distraught I became until I was sobbing uncontrollably.

I changed trains three times before I was home and I could sense people staring at me and wondering what on earth had happened to this poor little American girl, but no one asked and I wonder if they all made up little stories about what they thought had happened to me.  I know I would have, and as it turns out, it wasn’t even anything very interesting.

Living in Paris was one of the most difficult and trying times of my life.  Before living there I had never known what it was like to be so hungry that I’d contemplate stealing food just to eat. I had never known what it was like to live without a car or modern conveniences like microwaves and washing machines.  It made me realize how truly privileged we are here in the United States and it gave me a deeper understanding of what it was really like to be poor, yet I wasn’t so poor as to not have a place to sleep.  Until reading this guy’s blog I had forgotten most of the lessons I learned while I was there, but as I sit here it’s all coming back to me. I so miss Paris…

Went to the courthouse today and found out I’m not as poor as I think I am. I was going to try for the fee waiver so I didn’t have to pay $315 to get divorced, but apparently I don’t make below the poverty line (I’m damn close though).

So that’s it I guess. I’ve officially filed my paperwork and going to the courthouse didn’t even take me that long.

Can I just say how creepy the family court system is though? I was waiting in line with a bunch of teenage girls carrying two or three babies each.  They were all there trying to get custody of their babies from the baby’s daddies.  Yuck!  I couldn’t imagine having a kid right now, and I was even married.  How do these women manage?  Actually, I guess they weren’t even really women yet.  One girl, I know was at least 18 because she had a tattoo behind her ear.

I just think it’s weird to go to court and see other peopel.  It’s like I live in my own little bubble thinking my life is hard and then when I’m confronted with other people’s reality I suddenly realize how lucky I am.

Yeah, whatever, 6 months and it’s official.

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