07.29.08
Guilty Of Blog Neglect
My laptop has been out of commission since… when was the last post I wrote? I’ve been suffering from withdrawal like a cokewhore stuck with a very expensive bag of powdered sugar. I don’t know how I survived before I got this man-made beauty because I surely can’t survive without it now apparently. I had to do all my orders over the phone and with a tree’s-worth of legal pads. I guess it was a goods thing you readers did not get to witness this meltdown of my humanity and social acceptance… It was not pretty lol
I admit that my behavior was horrible, and as soon as I got my precious laptop back from the techies that I beg and flirt with to fix my stuff, I rehired Jesse because she had quit, and gave everyone a slight raise to stay. Things are smoothed over now, but they walk around like there are random landmines strewn under the floor. I think they are expecting another episode of Lina: Homicidal Bitch and Tyrant.
It also helps that I closed up shop for a day or two, giving us all a much needed cooling down day. I went down to Jekyll Island with the chicas and cooked my face on the beach. Water-proof sunblock my ass. Now I got the perfect color to end the vacation season and more shot glasses for my collection. Yes, I have a collection of shotglasses. I buy one every time I go somewhere new. I stole on from a bar in Greece since I couldn’t find a gift shop in the tiny village we docked at.
Scott handled it all surprisingly well. He cooked and didn’t make any type of his typical remarks when I bitched. He was, and is still being, well-rewarded for the trouble. wink wink I think I may still blow his mind yet. lol
I missed everybody and wonder how you all are doing!!
Why, oh why, does my skin peel so?! 
06.16.08
Budget Feuding and Sexy Brooding
note to self: never fall in love with someone who hates spending money
Scott and I have been arguing for the past week practically over my monetary habits. With the vacation knocking on our door, we’ve both been stressed trying to get our jobs set up to survive in our absence. He’s been coming home with his already short hair pulled into stress-induced spikes, grabbing a couple of beers, and hunkering down in his chair with his laptop and notepad. I’ve been balancing the booking, I’m setting stuff up to be able to pay everybody this Friday rather than the usual next Tuesday (Damn! that’s gonna screw up the whole bi-weekly routine i have), teaching Jesse things about the store’s shipping, restocking, “special customers”, etc in order for her not to do the hair-pully, very scarey, stress thing that Scott’s been doing.
All this has come together to stir up some monumental fights in Hermitsville. He’s get pissed that I’ve been buying him clothes and stuff for the trip. I get pissed because he’s acting bitchy, and so on and so forth. I hate, absolutely hate fighting, shouting, yelling, and any other negative confrontation of the sort, but I go there when I deem it worth it. Scott is worth it.
After I prove him a little wrong, or he gets his point across in the loudest way possible and I get loud back at him, he throws himself into his chair and stares at either his computer screen or the tv, pouting like a little boy. No matter how angry I am, this cools me down instantly; he’s just so sexy when he broods/pouts that I can’t resist getting him riled up in a very different manner.
Which is the reason I’ve been going to sleep on my long lunch breaks and my eyes feel crusty and dry. He came home this evening having left all of his stuff at work “by accident,” and we both laid down, going to sleep at around 6:30. Of course, I woke up about 2 hours ago starving, so I woke him up, and we ate bagged salad poured into a big bowl with leftover chicken cut up and tossed in, chopped up baby carrots, and Italian dressing. We fork-dueled over the last piece of chicken, which he won (the booger), and our play-fighting turned into some very good makeup sex. Good God, I cannot get enough of this man! I told him so, and he laughed, saying, “You better not because I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me.” Yay, I say. Wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.
Whoever said makeup sex is better than any other sex is stupid, but they may be onto something in their own perverted, too-much-time-on-their-hands, way.
Yay, I say.
06.10.08
Plans To Get Tan With My Man
I love rhyming! I can never get it right when I talk, but it seems that I’m a regular doctor seuss when I write/type 
With my “womanly wiles” as Scott likes to call it, I was able to talk him into renting a boat with me and sailing around the Greek coast for a week. That means a entire week of nothing but me, Scott, and the open Aegean Sea!! I’ve been breaking out in random dancing for the past two days because I’m so excited! The money I made off of my car is going towards plane tickets, supplies, and “dinner when we get tired of floating” per Scott’s two-cents. Plus, I’m going shopping while he is at work today. Scooter doesn’t understand that he can’t wear jeans, ragged shorts, and running clothes while we are IN GREECE, and his suits are not leaving his closet, so the man needs swimming trunks, shorts, t-shirts, flip flops, and he’s making me buy us each a pair of water shoes. He’s so adorable when he acts all worried and OCD-like.
Here’s a picture of what the boat kind of looks like (it’s HUGE!!!)
Do you know how hard it is to try to rent a boat without a crew being included?! Makes me want to drink heavily. lol
I finally showed him the black bathing suit I bought at Victoria’s Secret (see You Can’t Put A Price On Everything) We had to order take-out because I “made” him burn dinner with my “irresistible tempations.” Mwahahaha… It’s all peaceful and playful at the apartment now that Skinny Me is gone. Scott seemed a little tense when she was here. I guess part of it was that he didn’t have his own space anymore.
I will be gone the week of June 22 on my fabulous vacation. I’ll have my laptop with me and my camera, so expect lots of pictures!! Jesse is gonna have a panic attack when I tell her that she is charge of the store while I’m gone.
*does the cabbage patch and a quick little jig* AH! I haven’t been boating since I was little. I just can’t wait; I’ve already started packing my suitcase, which is kind of depressing when you realize how little room you have. However, Scott told me not to bring a lot of clothes *wink wink* (get your mind out of the gutter lol) because we are going to spend the majority of that week in the water. Oh god, I just remembered that I have no sunscreen! My skin of irish-origin would be like an egg on hot asphalt. One last thought before I go back to work, I have got to get one of those Greek language guides from the back of the store. Rick Steves’ books are the best out of any that I’ve skimmed in my boredom. They not only give you helpful tips in the country’s culture and way of doing things, but they also have very common phrases and even curse words, which is really fun for a road rager such as myself. Nobody messes with you when you call them a bastard or a a$$hole in two or more different languages.
No, I do not like green eggs and ham, Sam I am.
05.25.08
Tears, Beers, and Someone Else’s Fears
I have another new best friend (who came into town a week early on Thursday)!! Scott’s sister is so much like my high-school counterpart that it’s scary. As soon as we had our first conversation, in the longest car ride EVER out of the airport, I nicknamed her Skinny Me. Skinny Me is 22 years old, is going to college in Kentucky (wtf right?) to be a gynaecologist (or obstetrician) (EEK) , is about 6 feet tall, but weighs about the same I do (i am so jealous!). She has shoulder-length brown hair with pretty caramel and dirty blonde highlights (and a section of bright pink on the underside of the back!)
Anyway, I have named her Skinny Me because of her penchant for tactlessness, mental fumblings, and over-all hyperactive-kid-on-speed energy level. As she talked ninety miles a minute from the backseat of Scott’s truck, I half-listened and half-grieved on how I had realized how much energy I lost as I got older. She’s got a great sense of style because she knew that I was wearing this little pink cotton “smocked razorback” dress from GAP. Also, she was wearing really nice jeans (she confided she found them in a corner of a Salvation Army), a cute pair of American Eagle flats, and a loose-fitting boatneck t-shirt.
The three of us ate a quick lunch together, and as Scott was begrudgingly saying goodbye to his truck keys so we could back to the apartment he pecked my cheek and whispered, “Keep an eye on her please. She’s been under my responsibilty since my parents kicked her out at eighteen.”
He hugged Skinny Me who chuckled. “I’m 22, not 12. You can give her a proper bye without whispering junk about me.”
I leaned against the car and laughed. Scott turned a few shades of red before I caught my breath and pulled him to me, only for him to take it again. *sighs dreamily* His kisses are like drugs to a withdrawn junkie, relieving, wonderful, brain-mixing…
“There you go big brother,” she quipped, earning a playful smack on the arm. Once out of the car park, I snuck a glance at her as I fought lunch hour traffic- sweating bullets because I’m not used to driving anymore, much less a 4×4 monster through crowded Atlanta streets. “You didn’t have to embarass him.” She laughed and turned to face me. “I know, but he needed it. I keep him from turning into one of those arrogant dickheads. But now, the job isn’t solely mine. It seems you don’t take shit either.”
I smiled, not saying anything because I would’ve ended up opening a can of worms to the past that I had closed and buried years ago, which I will go into another day. We went back to my apartment, where we mooned and drooled over our favorite brands and labels on my laptop for a couple of hours. She went next door to get settled into Scott’s bedroom-fresh sheets, vacuumed, clean bathroom, and fresh sunflowers courtesy of me, so I ran (in which I mean I speed-walked like the dickens) down to the store to do a quick check-in, sign for a delivery, and call in employees for my future absences while Skinny Me is in town.
When I got back to the apartment, sweating, barefoot (my flats were creating blisters OK?! lol), and my hair going crazy with the humidity, Skinny Me was sitting at Scott’s desktop PC cleaning out her email and sniffling. Wait, what? is the first thing that popped into my mind. I tried to walk backwards out slowly, but I hit my heel on the doorjam and crashed into the door. “sorry for barging in. I’m back and will be at my place getting dinner ready.”
“It’s ok,” she replied, “Wait just a second I need some advice from a objective third party’s perspective.”
Oh shit, I thought, and I must been an open book of facial expressions that day because she gave me a watery smile and shook her head. “It’s nothing to heavy or anything that you’ll have to keep from Pops.” Aww, she has nicknames for Scott too.
I sighed and told her to come back to my apartment, so we could talk over a glass of wine while I got the chicken meatballs and vegetables ready for the subs I had been wanting to make ever since I saw them on 30 minute meals. However, when I poured each of us a glass, dinner was forgotten. We ended up ordering Chinese because Pops got home late, and Skinny Me and I were a little drunk by the time he got there.
Next post will be what she told me because I even need some help deciphering this situation!! SOS
04.13.08
Misnomers And Their Effect On One’s Sex Life
Today’s post is totally not about SEX!!! It’s about the fascinating worldwide web and search engines. My last post was about my memorial connection with a song that had a racy title. Such title was the title of said post… it is now almost the most visited post on my blog!!!
I believe (because I am a cynical pessimist who always thinks the worst of the human race as a whole- I know there are others out there! I feel it in my soul!) that many of these “views” of aforementioned post were made in an attempt to see, read about, or talk about such subject. It makes me cringe that this is what the Internet has come too! I know I’m older than a lot of those who visit this blog, and I know I am old-fashion when it comes to talking about sex, but this once underestimated linking of people from all over the world should not be used to watch something that should stay behind closed doors between two close people.
I added the sex part on the end of the title just to see how many hits it sends my way. Some may think that it’s not my place to lecture on morality, but it’s my blog and I will lecture if it so pleases me! Besides, I think some of you may tire of reading about my personal life because I know I get tired of just thinking about it!
I’m not trying to come off all holier than thou, or high and mighty because I have my own large share of indiscretions that will be saved for another day, but Jesus Christie folks, it’s just anatomy set to a hip hop beat!
Can you believe I went an entire post without talking about Scott? Simply Amazing! Btw, We’re staying in tonight to make pizza from scratch and watch movies! I’m gonna have to go to the gym more! The feeling of “teenage mentality” isn’t as strong as it once was, but I think we’re more into the “adult mentality” at the moment. lol… Oh my. I just spent 20 minutes writing about how sex on the internet is so bad, yet I’m now talking about it… *sigh*
04.09.08
“I Want Your Sex”
I feel like being a little racy after the email I sent Scott a couple of days ago. It was a picture of me that was taken at some club a few years ago dancing in this little skirt and sexy top. I blame Halley for the existence of such picture. Anyway, I sent the picture to him with “I want your sex” by George Michaels linked to it.
He called me about a three seconds after I sent the email, laughing; I could hear the song in the background. It made my heart soar to hear him laugh after the past week’s events. “You tryin’ to get me fired for improper use of company property?”
I laughed with him, told him that he’d better be getting off work early, and hung up. That evening, we ate homemade lasagna, garlic breadsticks, and the best caeser salad I’ve ever had by candlelight in my living room. I had left work after I hung up the phone in order to convert my living room into romance central. I rearranged furniture, took my beautiful, antique table out of storage and put it where the college Ikea-brand one had been.
(on a separate note, I think it’s time for all of my good furniture to come out of storage [apartment building's basement] I kept it there when I moved in because I didn’t want it to be ruined by the immature lushes I had for friends back then)
When Scott arrived home, I had just taken the lasagna out of the oven and ran into the bedroom to fix my hair. When I opened my door to him, he held out a bouquet of calla lillies and a bottle of wine. He had taken off his suit jacket and tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. I could tell he was staring at me in my navy pencil skirt and camisole, especially the camisole which I had been wearing a blazer over for the majority of the day. Let’s just say i have cleavage and leave it at that.
He praised my cooking the entire evening, making me grin with pride. Eventually, I got up off the floor of the living room, blew out the dying candles, and grabbed his hand. He stared at me for a minute, probably expecting me to drop his hand like a hot potato and clam up, but then he just smiled that slow, mischievous oh-so-sexy smile. Things are not going back, but they are moving forward.
He’s cooking dinner tonight and promised to outshow me. I told him to bring it!
04.03.08
Limbo Isn’t Just A Backbreaking Game
Has anyone ever heard of relationship limbo? If you haven’t, don’t think for one second that it involves a horizontal pole and shimmying underneath it to the beat of some song. It’s where I am spending my days. Scott and I really haven’t talked about where we’re heading after what happened. It’s really weird that a relationship that was all about openess and talking could turn into such a closed book with a padlock.
I’ve been working all the time; Scott has too. They’ve fired a few people at his job, so he’s taken on the responsibility ( and hours) of a few other people. We eat dinner together most nights, watch the news, and then go back to our separate corners. I tried apologizing for the way I acted, but all he said was, “You were scared, why are you apologizing for feeling a certain way?”
I just shut up after that. I did manage to make him smile one time this week. This evening, I was flipping through the channels when I came across the Food Network and Rachel Ray was cooking something in 30 minutes. I managed to do the perfect imitation of her voice, expressions, and walk. He just smiled, shook his head, and grabbed the remote to turn on the recorded episode of DEA, which is like Cops but with crack, assault weapons, and better looking guys. TV is one of the common grounds where we can talk without all the repressed words, for right now. I swear, it may take a forklift and a bunch of rope, but I will make him stay still and talk to me.
I don’t want to lose him because I can’t get my act together. I’m thinking about seeing a therapist to try to figure out why I’m having trouble keeping ym connection with him, even though Halley tried to convince me they were products of Hell.
Advice? Please
03.24.08
Confessional From The Bathroom Floor
The past few days has been hell, torture, and all things in-between. I’ll get my posts all caught up one of these days. The other evening, Bill called me. He wanted to go talk over drinks at some sports bar. At first, I kept saying no because I had made a salad and cooked this really good little flatbread pizza. He eventually wore me down enough and dinner was wrapped up and put in the fridge. I put on some jeans, a UGA t-shirt, my Nikes, and a cute cotton jacket from Old Navy; I was trying to tone down the glam-girl look he had seen at the wedding, hoping/praying that he would go back to being the genius best friend. I even shoved some bobby pins in my hair and was able to get it into a skinny rubberband. I was rockin’ the “just left the leash and pedometer by the door” look if I do say so myself.
Extremely long story short, Bill ended up drunk as a effin’ skunk, calling me from the mens’ bathroom. I went in to drag him out, which turned into him confessing his love for me and his idiocy for never telling me. Needless to say, I got the bartender todrag his ass into a cab and left him. It’s one thing to get drunk off your face, I’ll help you get home and maybe even stay to make sure you go to sleep on your side with a trashcan, aspirin, and water nearby, but when you tell me how much you love me, beg me to be with you, and cry about how you wished you were with me rather than “Andre The Giant,” (which I had, and will continue to have, a good laugh about this) I go from nursemaid to cold, hard bitch who leaves your dumb ass on the nasty tiled floor of the mens’ bathroom.
When I got home, Scott was sleeping in my recliner with Georgia on his feet, one of my blankets across his body, his glasses sliding down his face, and his laptop on the verge of becoming buddies with the floor. I just stood, stared at this picture of peacefulness and love, and may have even cried a bit. He awoke once he heard me moving around in the bedroom as I changed and got ready to go to sleep. “How was your evening out?” He asked in that sexy groggy way as he scratched the growing shadow on his chin and cheeks.
I turned to him with a smile and hugged him tightly. I figured I’d tell him when I wasn’t so emotional. And, I did! Ta-dah! I told him last night when he spotted me checking my phone for the millionth time because Bill has been calling and texting all the damn time. He’s apologized, asked for forgiveness, blamed it on the alcohol, asked to be my friend, you name it. I’m just reading and deleting baby, that is until Scott asked. I had to tell him the whole story over a glass of wine with our dinner. He got pissed, whoo! did he get pissed, but I calmed him down (and even made him laugh) with his new nickname and the fact that I left the guy lying on the bathroom floor. I have a nagging feeling that Scott suspects that I’m involved with Bill, which is never, hear me NEVER, going to happen. Scott’s too sweet, smart, kind, tough, protective, caring, funny, and all that wrapped in a hot package (plus I love him to no end) for me to betray loyalty like that. No way, jose!
All this added onto the week I had in Savannah makes me a very stressed out person. I hope everybody’s Easter was nice; I spent Easter working from bed, eating some of the chocolate that Scott and I bought. My covers have officially dominated my will and hold it hostage at the most opportune moments for me!
12.24.07
Grandma Takes The Highway
OH. MY. GOD. I thought my family was a little strange… Scott’s family is worse than strange. It’s just downright…. I don’t even have a word for what they are.
When we first got to his parents’ house, I felt like Dorothy after the tornado. I had changed into nice slacks and a pretty blouse once we entered state lines (much to the enjoyment of other drivers), but I wished I had kept on my track pants and UGA hoodie. The house was nice; it’s a beautiful old-style country farmhouse… huge house.
All the relatives came out to unload the presents we had packed into Scott’s Tahoe sport while a few of the others oohed and aahed over me. I cowered under his arm until we entered the house. I escaped to the kitchen, where his mom was elbow-deep in flour. I sat at the table, where Scott handed me a small glass of what turned out to be bourbon. “Trust me, you’ll want it.”
I downed it and sat there, listening to the noises coming from the rest of the house. The kitchen seemed like the safest and calmest place until his mom, Janine, put her pie in the oven. She wiped her hands and turned to me as if to say, “I’ll get you my pretty!”
Sitting down next to me, Janine proceeded to interview me like I was applying for NASA. After the interrogation, Scott returned with a line of people following behind him. He introduced each relative in an orderly fashion. as he finished with his nephew, Chris, he bellowed, “Where’s Grandma?” Now, he fits in with the rowdy bunch.
I looked around, repeating the question to Chris. Chris smiled at me and said, “Grandma took the highway.”
Janine snatched Chris up, tensely smiling. “Frank’s (Scott’s father) mother got sick a few years ago. She lives with us now since all the kids have moved out.”
I looked at Scott for more explanation, so he sighed. “Grandma smokes medical marijuana,” he whispered. “Whenever she goes out into the woods to smoke, we tell the young’uns that she’s taking the high way.” He looked at me, pleading me with his eyes not to run from the house screaming.
Instead, I laughed. “That’s a good one. Who thought that up?”
“That’d be me,” answered a deep voice in the doorway. “Frank ____”
I shook the extended hand, which is so much like Scott’s, and got yanked into a bone-snapping hug. I’m not a small, frail girl by any means; these guys are just so much bigger than me. It’s a little overwhelming to be in the middle of so much testosterone and… maleness. Frank was a older, grayer, rougher, hairier version of Scott. I could picture girls swooning for him in the good old days just as well as I could see Scott ruling his school.
After an early dinner, held in a dining room the length of a small bowling alley, presents were unwrapped and the beer came out by the case. Scott drank with his brothers, uncles, cousins, and anybody else who was in arm’s reach, so I took over DD duty. I had to get back to Atlanta to get some sleep before I drove down to Savannah for my own family’s Christmas.
Things went way better than I thought they would. He comes from a country background, but in the South, who doesn’t? His relatives left me alone for the most part. I think some people were either shy or intimidated. I can’t wait until the New Years Party; Scott and I are driving over for a few days, so I get to drink as much as I want and find out what he and his relatives really think of me. yay… I can’t wait.
12.23.07
Couple Mode and Spazzy Jazz
Scott and I are officially in couple mode, and it hasn’t even been 3 months!! I haven’t gone out with the girls since that night before we started the blog. wow…. I’ve had so much more energy now that I’m not staying out until 3 getting drunk anymore. Gasp! Am I maturing? Don’t tell anybody, ok?
I was walking Wednesday yesterday when my good friend Jake came jogging up. Jake was my boyfriend in college, and now we have a brother/sister friendship. Oh who am I kidding??!! Jake looks like Matthew McConaughey, and I was lucky enough to have an English class with him. He’s a lean, not-so-mean, hot machine. I had to mentally slap myself and picture my chunk of muscle who was baking cookies.
Anyways, I stopped, hugged Jake hard while trying not to ogle or grab him, and listened to him as he asked me questions about my life at the speed of light. He paused when I told him that I had a boyfriend, and yes, things were kind of serious. We were sharing a slightly awkward silence when he suddenly asks if he can move into my apartment!!!
I think I stopped breathing for a second as he explained that the publishing company he wrote and was editor for went through the motions of a cut back and fired him. Now, he’s losing his apartment and needed a place to stay. “I was going to call my college roommate, but since I bumped into you. Please take pity on one of your best friends!!!!”
Sighing, I nodded slowly, knowing my over-developed sense of charity and niceness would come to snap me in the ass one day.
He moved his stuff into my home office today, making it into a cramped bedroom. I came home late from the store, ready to change into some ratty jammies and lay on the couch with Scott. Did that happen? No. We had just put in Stardust, and snuggled in to not watch the movie when this loud, annoying, and just plain weird music came blasting out of Jake’s new bedroom.
“What the hell was that?” Scott shouted as he sprang off of the couch. I sat in awe. How could a man that tall and such move so quickly and… well… nimbly?
“That’s my new roommate, Jake.” At his enraged look, I quickly explained the whole shibang to him. He banged on Jake’s door. When it opened, Scott stuck out one large, callused hand. “Hi, I’m the boyfriend. What are you listening to? It sounds like an epilectic playing multiple instruments during a seizure”
I smacked my forehead and ran over to them before they began growling at each other.
“It’s new-age, alternative jazz. Some friends of mine started a jazz band; they play in New York. They sent me a copy of their demo.”
I looked back and forth between Scott and Jake. Damn! My tastes have changed!! Jake is lean, wiry and handsome, but looks very scholarly at times. Scott is tall, ginormous, hot, and looks like an ad for Wrangler Jeans or Ford Trucks. There is a major difference between them that has nothing to do with physical appearance. I had to chase Jake. Scott was there like a brick wall I ran into. (there is a compliment towards scott in there somewhere
I used the remote in Jake’s hand to shut off his stereo. “No new-age in my apartment, bub.”
He nodded, a mischievious glint coming into his eyes. “No bringing home dates then.”
I looked at Scott, grinned, and nodded. “Fine.”
Slipping into my houseshoes, I grabbed Scott’s hand, the Stardust DVD, and the container of Christmas cookies. “See you tomorrow, roomie.” And I was down the hall to Scott’s apartment. Aren’t I just the meanest ex- girlfriend on Earth. Muahahahaha 
I have to go to Alabama with Scott tomorrow. He’s dragging me out of bed at 5 in the morning to spend Christmas Eve with his family. Somebody! Shoot! Me! Now!
