Don't know right from left.
Don't know up from down.
Only know I'm lost.
Don't know where I am.
Don't know where I'm going.
Only know where I've been.
Don't know how to focus.
Don't know when to fight.
Only know I want to let go.
Don't know if I'm good enough.
Don't know if I'm too good.
Only know there's not enough left.
Don't want to push.
Don't want to stop.
Only know how to coast.
Don't get the wrong impression.
Don't think too much into it.
Just know I'll be ok.
30 April 2008
22 April 2008
Sold ... to number 34
I really wasn't worried about the day. I thought the tears were gone. All dried up. No more to shed. But five minutes before arriving at the location, my gut began to panic. And it told me to be prepared for some not-so-joyful emotions.
We got to fair grounds in WaKeeney, KS and made our way to the event's location through the dirt-turned-mud parking lot. Opened the door and my eyes were greeted with something unexpected ... seemingly endless tables covered with seemingly endless stuff. From old garden tools to bed linens, furniture and dishes to knick knacks. Virtually everything from 132 8th Street was there.
A wave of disbelief took over ... surely they won't sell each item, one by one? While shuffling across the dusty, concrete floor, I perused the tables. Much of it was unfamiliar - a good thing. But then I saw it. The first item that tugged at my heart and simultaneously at my tears. The letters that hung on the basement wall. The ones that represented Grammy, Papa and all their children.
With some difficulty, I remained composed, a state that didn't last long. While chatting with mom and aunt, cousin approached. "I'm taking the box of old pictures. I'll pay $500, but no one will be bidding on those today." A slight crack in his voice. I nearly lose it. Tears well up. A couple break the surface.
I move away to appear occupied. To let the moment pass. But I picked the wrong spot to achieve this. Mindlessly sorting through stacks and stack of piano books, I come across "The Rose." That was his favorite. How could this be here?
Another difficult moment passed, only to be joined by more. The morning flew by ... National Geographics and Pig Sty gone. The afternoon progressed ... kitchen utensils, old school desks and nativity scene vanished. At the conclusion of the day, everything that filled my Grammy and Papa's home ... the house my mom grew up in, a second home to me ... was sold and taken away.
But I can take solace in the fact that those antique collectors will never get their hands on countless games of school in the attic, ghost in the graveyard, sandbox dates, battles of Trivial Pursuit or UNO. They'll never display trips to the drug store for vanilla cream Cokes, games of house on the train tracks or the elusive white patent belt and shoes from the white elephant Christmas parties. It's good to be a Galloway.
We got to fair grounds in WaKeeney, KS and made our way to the event's location through the dirt-turned-mud parking lot. Opened the door and my eyes were greeted with something unexpected ... seemingly endless tables covered with seemingly endless stuff. From old garden tools to bed linens, furniture and dishes to knick knacks. Virtually everything from 132 8th Street was there.
A wave of disbelief took over ... surely they won't sell each item, one by one? While shuffling across the dusty, concrete floor, I perused the tables. Much of it was unfamiliar - a good thing. But then I saw it. The first item that tugged at my heart and simultaneously at my tears. The letters that hung on the basement wall. The ones that represented Grammy, Papa and all their children.
With some difficulty, I remained composed, a state that didn't last long. While chatting with mom and aunt, cousin approached. "I'm taking the box of old pictures. I'll pay $500, but no one will be bidding on those today." A slight crack in his voice. I nearly lose it. Tears well up. A couple break the surface.
I move away to appear occupied. To let the moment pass. But I picked the wrong spot to achieve this. Mindlessly sorting through stacks and stack of piano books, I come across "The Rose." That was his favorite. How could this be here?
Another difficult moment passed, only to be joined by more. The morning flew by ... National Geographics and Pig Sty gone. The afternoon progressed ... kitchen utensils, old school desks and nativity scene vanished. At the conclusion of the day, everything that filled my Grammy and Papa's home ... the house my mom grew up in, a second home to me ... was sold and taken away.
But I can take solace in the fact that those antique collectors will never get their hands on countless games of school in the attic, ghost in the graveyard, sandbox dates, battles of Trivial Pursuit or UNO. They'll never display trips to the drug store for vanilla cream Cokes, games of house on the train tracks or the elusive white patent belt and shoes from the white elephant Christmas parties. It's good to be a Galloway.
18 April 2008
Peeping Tommy
Last night I went shopping for swimsuits. If I haven't mentioned it before, I'm going to the beach for four days in less than a month's time. Never you mind that I have a slew ... nay, a plethora ... of bathing suits stashed in a plastic bin underneath my Sealy. I want a new one and I want to take three different ones to the beach. I don't care if you say that's unreasonable, I made the decision long ago and there's nothing you can do about it.
I did gain some sensibility in the fact that I would only allow myself to spend $30 or less. (Swimsuits can get expensive, people, so this is no easy task.) After browsing through Target's selection with no success, and moving my search to Old Navy, only to find they charge $20-$25 for the top and bottom piece each, I tip-toed over to Marshalls in the rain. I know, I know ... slightly chaotic and emerging devil-status ... but they sell bikini pieces together. And they're cheap.
So much to my satisfaction, I found three Penguin suits to try. (Love, love, love Penguin clothing.) I made my way to the dressing room, and shortly upon my arrival to dressing room number one, a loud mother and daughter scooted their way into the room next door to me. They were speaking in rapid Spanish, but the daughter was clearly distraught and it started to stress me out. I glanced in the mirror and noticed little boys' feet running to and fro out in the hallway of the women's dressing room, and assumed it was the son/brother waiting for the madness of shopping to be finito. La di da, I'm trying on my second swimsuit. Glance in the mirror again ... only to find the boy's creepy little eyes staring through the crack of the shoddy dressing room doors ... gaping at what he saw. Soon after, but not immediately, he noticed that I had caught him and he ran away.
Ok. As if shopping for a bathing suit isn't mortifying enough, I have a 7 or 8 year old boy ogling my goodies. (My apologies if it's TMI, but no, I had not yet put the bikini top on yet.) This kid was more-than-obviously old enough to know better, but I didn't know what the heck to do. Yell over to his mom, who very likely did not speak English "Tell your son to get his grubby little eyes off my boobies?" No. I didn't do that. Instead I snuck over to the little space that did not show my reflection in the mirror and stayed there until the family exited the dressing room. I finish my deliberations, all while shaking my head in disbelief at what just occurred.
I found my boyfriend to tell him what happened. He was ticked. I continued to feel more and more violated by the second, magnified by the fact that it was because of a pre-pre-pubescent boy. But there was nothing I could do. I had no idea which family owned this little crap head. So I was out of luck. And it's fairly obvious that I'm the subject of a story at a KC area grade school today. All I can hope for is that his mother catches wind of his "adventure" and she has enough sense to award him with some severe spankings. I have a sneaking suspicion I'll sense it if it happens.
I did gain some sensibility in the fact that I would only allow myself to spend $30 or less. (Swimsuits can get expensive, people, so this is no easy task.) After browsing through Target's selection with no success, and moving my search to Old Navy, only to find they charge $20-$25 for the top and bottom piece each, I tip-toed over to Marshalls in the rain. I know, I know ... slightly chaotic and emerging devil-status ... but they sell bikini pieces together. And they're cheap.
So much to my satisfaction, I found three Penguin suits to try. (Love, love, love Penguin clothing.) I made my way to the dressing room, and shortly upon my arrival to dressing room number one, a loud mother and daughter scooted their way into the room next door to me. They were speaking in rapid Spanish, but the daughter was clearly distraught and it started to stress me out. I glanced in the mirror and noticed little boys' feet running to and fro out in the hallway of the women's dressing room, and assumed it was the son/brother waiting for the madness of shopping to be finito. La di da, I'm trying on my second swimsuit. Glance in the mirror again ... only to find the boy's creepy little eyes staring through the crack of the shoddy dressing room doors ... gaping at what he saw. Soon after, but not immediately, he noticed that I had caught him and he ran away.
Ok. As if shopping for a bathing suit isn't mortifying enough, I have a 7 or 8 year old boy ogling my goodies. (My apologies if it's TMI, but no, I had not yet put the bikini top on yet.) This kid was more-than-obviously old enough to know better, but I didn't know what the heck to do. Yell over to his mom, who very likely did not speak English "Tell your son to get his grubby little eyes off my boobies?" No. I didn't do that. Instead I snuck over to the little space that did not show my reflection in the mirror and stayed there until the family exited the dressing room. I finish my deliberations, all while shaking my head in disbelief at what just occurred.
I found my boyfriend to tell him what happened. He was ticked. I continued to feel more and more violated by the second, magnified by the fact that it was because of a pre-pre-pubescent boy. But there was nothing I could do. I had no idea which family owned this little crap head. So I was out of luck. And it's fairly obvious that I'm the subject of a story at a KC area grade school today. All I can hope for is that his mother catches wind of his "adventure" and she has enough sense to award him with some severe spankings. I have a sneaking suspicion I'll sense it if it happens.
16 April 2008
Seymoure Butts
Sometimes the pages that come over my office's intercom are just plain funny. And it helps that you can sense when the receptionist is trying to hold in laughter. (Even better when she can't hold in laughter while butchering a name.) I wish I could remember all of them, but maybe this will turn into a "what I should blog about when I have nothing of value to say" situations?
"Attention VML, International Beer Friday is now beginning."
"Attention VML, the ice cream man is in the parking lot."
"Attention VML, the omelet bar is still open and currently has no line."
"Molly Anderson, please dial 3072. Molly Anderson, 3072." (3072 is my own extension. Odd.)
"Attention VML, Andy and Mike, come to the top of the stairs." (Followed by grade school "Ummmmm!" exclamations.)
Maybe these aren't as funny to you as they are to me. But that just means your sense of humor sucks.
"Attention VML, International Beer Friday is now beginning."
"Attention VML, the ice cream man is in the parking lot."
"Attention VML, the omelet bar is still open and currently has no line."
"Molly Anderson, please dial 3072. Molly Anderson, 3072." (3072 is my own extension. Odd.)
"Attention VML, Andy and Mike, come to the top of the stairs." (Followed by grade school "Ummmmm!" exclamations.)
Maybe these aren't as funny to you as they are to me. But that just means your sense of humor sucks.
14 April 2008
I'm a loser
Sometimes things are slow at work. Today is one of those days. I'm playing the waiting game, and while I'd typically take this time to do some online shopping, I'm practicing major discipline in not doing so. You see, I paid some bills today and upon looking at my credit card statement, I realized I swindled away some cruise spending money on clothes. But at least I might (probably won't) wear them on said cruise?
Anyway. Seeking ways to cure the boredom bug, exhausting all facebook searches known to mankind, I decided to google myself. It's been a while.
I stumbled on a sad revelation. Yes yes, I know my name is quite common. But yours truly doesn't have an entry until the 8th page. Crap. I used to be on page one not but two years ago. Looks like I have to go do something cool now ...
Anyway. Seeking ways to cure the boredom bug, exhausting all facebook searches known to mankind, I decided to google myself. It's been a while.
I stumbled on a sad revelation. Yes yes, I know my name is quite common. But yours truly doesn't have an entry until the 8th page. Crap. I used to be on page one not but two years ago. Looks like I have to go do something cool now ...
11 April 2008
Don't go. Stay!
An attempt to pay homage to a great coworker and friend, Dana, whose last day is today. These are just some of the many things I will miss about her:
1.) My lefty neighbor at Ladies Who Lunch
2.) Her random contributions to the day's Hot Topic
3.) Her lovable affinity for jingles
4.) Hearing her literally laugh out loud when we're chatting about inappropriate things on IM
5.) Her freaking toaster that makes my morning Pop Tarts warm with sugary bliss
6.) Her cute socks that peak above her boots
7.) Dana-isms
8.) My faithful, spontaneous lunch-hour shopping buddy
9.) Her "baby toosh" scent
10.) Her constant search to incorporate "My Humps" lyrics into copy
11.) Her reports about her addictions ... to online shopping and chocolate
12.) Her excitement after winning a game of Free Cell
13.) She's the worst shopping enabler I know ... good for my closet, bad for my bank account
14.) Our almost-but-not-quite eerie similar-ness (nis?)
15.) Her genuine offers to help and listen
16.) Her good advice
17.) Her inner band nerd ... we share that trait
18.) Her dog whisperer tendencies
I will miss so much about you, Babier. I know we'll still see each other. We'll still hang out. We'll still spend money together on unneeded shopping binges. Maybe we'll get to drink more wine together since our time spent together will be outside of the office. Because we're friends. But I'll sure miss being able to walk over to your cube and waste 45 minutes talking about nothing ... among other things. Love!
1.) My lefty neighbor at Ladies Who Lunch
2.) Her random contributions to the day's Hot Topic
3.) Her lovable affinity for jingles
4.) Hearing her literally laugh out loud when we're chatting about inappropriate things on IM
5.) Her freaking toaster that makes my morning Pop Tarts warm with sugary bliss
6.) Her cute socks that peak above her boots
7.) Dana-isms
8.) My faithful, spontaneous lunch-hour shopping buddy
9.) Her "baby toosh" scent
10.) Her constant search to incorporate "My Humps" lyrics into copy
11.) Her reports about her addictions ... to online shopping and chocolate
12.) Her excitement after winning a game of Free Cell
13.) She's the worst shopping enabler I know ... good for my closet, bad for my bank account
14.) Our almost-but-not-quite eerie similar-ness (nis?)
15.) Her genuine offers to help and listen
16.) Her good advice
17.) Her inner band nerd ... we share that trait
18.) Her dog whisperer tendencies
I will miss so much about you, Babier. I know we'll still see each other. We'll still hang out. We'll still spend money together on unneeded shopping binges. Maybe we'll get to drink more wine together since our time spent together will be outside of the office. Because we're friends. But I'll sure miss being able to walk over to your cube and waste 45 minutes talking about nothing ... among other things. Love!
04 April 2008
Equally as funny ...
But in a whole different way. Awful.
This isn't the full version, but this saves you from having to listen to all the JG Wentworth crap. There are many others throughout the commercial who are mad about not having the money that's theirs since they need it now.
Ok no more commercial blogs for at least a month.
This isn't the full version, but this saves you from having to listen to all the JG Wentworth crap. There are many others throughout the commercial who are mad about not having the money that's theirs since they need it now.
Ok no more commercial blogs for at least a month.
03 April 2008
Telephone is a funny game
I try not to blog about work-related things. I can appreciate an advertising blog. In fact, I read several of them. I cannot, however, appreciate someone who tries too hard to talk about amazing advertising efforts when it's really just blank efforts in order to look cool. They're really saying "look at me, I'm blogging about advertising. I love my job. Give me a raise ... by the way, I'm smarter than you because I blog about advertising." Vom.
But I have to talk about a commercial I just saw that made me laugh out loud. LOL, if you will. It was for an Oreo product called an Oreo Cakester. (The fact that it looks delicious is completely beside the point.)
"Bobby got his first chest hair???" Hilarious. That is all.
But I have to talk about a commercial I just saw that made me laugh out loud. LOL, if you will. It was for an Oreo product called an Oreo Cakester. (The fact that it looks delicious is completely beside the point.)
"Bobby got his first chest hair???" Hilarious. That is all.
02 April 2008
My closet welcomes a new friend
Oh Chip & Pepper jeans on eBay ... I saw you yesterday morning, and immediately said "no." My recent shopping binge ended with a pit of guilt, even though my longing for new jeans never fully subsided.
But I couldn't stop thinking about you. I visited your web page several times. I passed on your link to get others' opinions. Your sister, my current pair of Chip & Peppers, are involuntarily making their way out of my jeans rotation. The hole on the knee isn't so bad. The hole in the crotch area that I'm giving about three more wears to develop probably isn't work, or public, appropriate.
So I started justifying why you could come into my life. I decided to "watch" you. Five hours before your auction ended, I received a notification that you were still in my price range. In fact, no one else had bid on you ... it was starting to feel like denim destiny.
I warmed up some leftovers and poured a glass of wine. Things were getting down to the wire. I decided I might try my luck at acquiring you ... but not until the last minute. With two minutes to go, I started wondering what other Chip & Pepper hunter was out there. Watching. Waiting for time to almost expire to pounce. Was she watching Law & Order: SVU, too? Probably. It's kind of awesome.
One minute left. My heart started racing. "Should I really do this?" Bid one cent above starting rate, with 48 seconds to go. But I wasn't logged into my eBay account. I typed feverishly. Confirmed bid. Whew ... that was close. But then I noticed a prompt that said "You are close to getting outbid." No! My suspicions of another suitor were spot on. 8 seconds left. Bid two dollars higher. Disappointment ... the auction was closed. But apparently the eBay gurus lied when they told me someone else was going to reign triumphant. I won! For the starting price, too. Not even one cent more.
Within 60 seconds' time, I spent $65. But as the commercials geniusly say, I "shopped victoriously." I think they targeted this campaign/slogan at eBay'ers who bid against each other. Turns out I was bidding against myself. Whatev. Those new jeans are for my butt and my butt only.
But I couldn't stop thinking about you. I visited your web page several times. I passed on your link to get others' opinions. Your sister, my current pair of Chip & Peppers, are involuntarily making their way out of my jeans rotation. The hole on the knee isn't so bad. The hole in the crotch area that I'm giving about three more wears to develop probably isn't work, or public, appropriate.
So I started justifying why you could come into my life. I decided to "watch" you. Five hours before your auction ended, I received a notification that you were still in my price range. In fact, no one else had bid on you ... it was starting to feel like denim destiny.
I warmed up some leftovers and poured a glass of wine. Things were getting down to the wire. I decided I might try my luck at acquiring you ... but not until the last minute. With two minutes to go, I started wondering what other Chip & Pepper hunter was out there. Watching. Waiting for time to almost expire to pounce. Was she watching Law & Order: SVU, too? Probably. It's kind of awesome.
One minute left. My heart started racing. "Should I really do this?" Bid one cent above starting rate, with 48 seconds to go. But I wasn't logged into my eBay account. I typed feverishly. Confirmed bid. Whew ... that was close. But then I noticed a prompt that said "You are close to getting outbid." No! My suspicions of another suitor were spot on. 8 seconds left. Bid two dollars higher. Disappointment ... the auction was closed. But apparently the eBay gurus lied when they told me someone else was going to reign triumphant. I won! For the starting price, too. Not even one cent more.
Within 60 seconds' time, I spent $65. But as the commercials geniusly say, I "shopped victoriously." I think they targeted this campaign/slogan at eBay'ers who bid against each other. Turns out I was bidding against myself. Whatev. Those new jeans are for my butt and my butt only.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
