Archive for October, 2003

Ugh. Sugar rush.

Okay, yesterday my office celebrated Halloween like we did in grade school. Parties, candy, costume contests, etc. The whole 9 yards. Fantastic. The result was a sugar high like none-other. But as we all know–what goes up… does come down. HARD. Blah.

This leads me to my current position. I am up on the scales. I am bloated and fat-feeling from Georging (I know, TMI). And I have decided to give up chocolate for 1 month. Starting now (Mind you–I had a “fun” size pack of peanut butter M&Ms and a “fun” size Nestle Crunch before 10 this morning). I expect that I will experience some classic withdrawal symptoms. I expect that this is going to much more difficult that I could ever imagine. But I am going to do this.

Before the wedding I gave up ice cream for 2 mos and now I don’t eat as much as I had before, so that’s good. One food item at a time.

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Wooo wooo!

Ladies and Gentlemen! The Fast Train is now boarding!! First stop–Party Town USA!!!

Well, this weekend is going to be one party after another–starting today! My office has become Halloween central–every floor is decorated and there is Candy Galore. At 3pm there is a party and a Haunted Trail. It’s like being in first grade all over again!

Tomorrow Frank’s office is having a party at his boss’s house. There will be more food, more drinking and lots of fun!! WOOWOO!! I don’t know what I’m going to be for Halloween–perhaps my darling husband will kindly pick out an outfit for me??

Saturday some of Frank’s friends are getting married. They are actually getting married at the same church that Frank and I were married at–but they are getting married in the garden chapel area. It will be beautiful! After that we are going to the reception.

Sunday we are going to church and then after I am going to the Pastor’s brunch because I am going to join Christ Church and become a member. YAY!

So thats the weekend in a nutshell!

~Jaze & KP-Izzle~

The plans are coming together–rah! Jaze–do you want to put together an evite or would you like me to? And what days are good for you guys? Also, I can’t do the weekend of the 15th because I am booked solid (except Friday the 14th which I still need to clear with my darling husband–hereafter referred to as DH).

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And why I will never call him Hubby. Frank is cooking dinner tonight (can I get an “awww!”??) and I just think that is the best thing in the whole world. I can’t wait! He’s just too phenomenal!!

As for Hubby. Hubby is a word that makes me think of Jenny Jones. Jenny Jones and any sort of yuppy-ish 1980’s sitcom. Jenny, Jerry and Ricki all use the word Hubby in show titles such as in: Hubby is sleeping with the Nanny who’s name is Tom. And: What to do when your Hubby is a Slacker. I’ve also heard the term hubby used on sitcoms, but I just don’t know which ones. But I’m sure it has. And so for those two reasons, it became trashy in my mind. It makes me cringe, actually.


Whassup, Jamie-babe? I was so excited to see all of your updates, although I wasn’t too pleased about the spider scenario from the other morning. NOT cool. EW EW EW. ANd to think of how your platform sandals must have suffered!


Hi! Thanks for coming out with us on Friday–even if it was kinda lame! You’re babe-licious!

Jaze and KP:

Girls night? And is there anyone else who’s up for it????

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Monday, Monday

You know, reading the word Monday just now made me think of several things. First of all, if it was French, it would be Lundi. But it’s not, it’s American. But if the first 1/2 of the American word were based on French, then Mon would mean “my” and then day would just be day. And then today would be my day. Which it is clearly not since here I am, living it up at work.

Also, when I studied the word Monday as one would study art, I thought, “Monday doesn’t look foreboding and sad and like a rude buzz kill in the midst of one fine party.” Instead Monday looks sweet yet succinct. If you roll the word around on your tongue, it seems soft and rounded, not harsh and painful. Monnnnnnnday. Mmmmmmmmmmmmooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnndaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy. It’s actually quite a pleasure to say. mmmmmmmmmmmmm. oooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnn. daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Good stuff.

But here is the truth about Monday. She is all dressed up, looking cute on paper. The reality? She zaps you of any good time you might be having and kicks your butt when the alarm goes off at 5:30 am.

Friday, alternately, makes me think of fried foods. Friday should be a day where everything (cats, too) should be dumped into a vat of oil and fried like no one’s business. Yet Mardi Gras (fat Tuesday)–the day where you fry everything and eat crap is–as the name suggests–typically celebrated on a Tuesday. Tuesday is a day that really sounds rough. If you are going to receive a severe beating, migraine, bad news, etc–that should occur on a Tuesday. Tooooz day. Tooooooozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz daaaaaaaay. It’s a day that looks short but drags on forever. And Wednesday. People should get married on Wednesdays. First because “Wed” is in the word. Second because it’s a long long word (well, by day of the week standards). Marriage should also be long. And Wednesday is a day that makes you wonder if there is ever any end to the week. I think people who have been married for a long time wonder if there is ever any end to the monotony of marriage. Also, if your marriage follows Tuesday, the day of badness, then Wednesday is BOUND to be the happiest day of your life. Or at least of your week so far.

Thursday. Thuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrzzzzzzzzzday. Sounds drunk. All good weekends begin on Thursday and end with the awful, sock in the mouth Monday morning–further prooving that Monday sounds much nicer than it really is. Thursday sounsd like Slursday. Which is what you do when drinking too much, but having a good time.

Saturday. No complaints on that day. On Saturday, if you’re lucky, you can say you sat around. Sat-your-day. Or at least had the option to do that. Perhaps you Sat-your-day in a bar. Or maybe you Sat-your-day at a college football game. Who knows. Who cares? It’s your day! rah!

Sunday. Sonday. This is the day typically reserved for the Son of God. And God. It is also a day that reminds you that while you’re in church, at a family function or sleeping in–you are probably missing the sun. Unless you are at a football game or something fun. Sunday. The only thing that could ruin a Sunday is Monday. How appropriate. You have God’s day. Then your day (Monday–if you follow my half English/half French translation.) And that brings me to Monday. Which is where I am.

Welcome to Monday.

Friday I went to Lincoln Park with Frank, Stacie D and Kate A. Good times. Then Saturday I had lunch with Jennie W and then dinner with Laura P. And Sunday we went to church, lunch with Frank’s parents and then we slept for a very long time.

Rah. Is it time for a nap yet??

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TGIF–or is it??

Here I am, awaiting the verdict from the dreaded 3:30 Friday meeting. I don’t care what industry you are in, if you or your boss goes in for a meeting at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon, there is NOTHING good that can come from it. Tonight I had planned on going to a bar after work with a few friends and my darling husband (who still won’t let me get those pens–darn it!). Last time I planned on going to that same bar with nearly the same people, it was a cold March day. March14th, 2003. I planned an outing and wound up here, in this dark gray prison of a building, until 11 pm. I was tired. I was cranky. I was disgusted with life in general. And like today, I wondered: Do we live to work or work to live??

The weekend is already too short without them having to eat into it like this. BLAH! and BAH HUMBUG!

WHAT am I doing with my life?? WHAT?!


And still, I do not have my beautious pens. Blast them all.

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Pretty Pens

Frank and I got to go on an exciting shopping trip to Costco last night. WOOHOO! I love that place. We bought only things we needed, such as pork, chicken, chai (for Frank who loves chai and has many fond memories of drinking this delectable drink), quiches (for when we have guests), Listerine mouthwash (for when we have guests), a box of 64 Always Maxi Pads with Wings (regular flow variety, just in case you were wondering), a bag of chocolate chips (for when I make cookies–a definite necessity) and this awesome spinach pasta (yum!). Our trip was going well until I spot something out of the corner of my eye. There–with a heavenly light shining upon it–was something I immediately lusted after. Glimmering in this light which was heaven-sent, next to 80lbs of paper and gallons of mayonnaise, resting on the shelf over the 14lb bag of shredded cheddar cheese–was a sleek case filled with 48 sparking gel pens. FORTY EIGHT you must be yelling right now, shocked that there could be so many beautiful, heartbreaking colors in this world. Forty-eight, I say to you. Perhaps you are in a cold sweat that I might be in possession of such glorious pens. Perhaps you are turning hunter green with envy. Perhaps you are plotting my demise so that you, too, could have such pens.

Envy no longer. I do not own such beautiful pens. I merely covet them.

Last night, as the autumn night became cooler, the sky darker and the world just a little less loving–my husband said words that stained my pure, innocent heart. He said, “No, we don’t need those pens, gosh Emily! No no no!!”

I won’t lie to you, I won’t tell tall tales. I won’t tell you I took this news well. I won’t tell you that I didn’t beg and plead. I won’t tell you that I didn’t pull aside SEVERAL Costco employees, ganging up on my husband to change his mind. “No no no” he said. “For my birthday???” I asked, my lower lip jutting out sadly, my eyes looking up to his cold, hard face.

“Em, we have to get going. Costco closes in 10 minutes,” Frank said sternly. “Sir, can’t you buy her the pens??” asked well-meaning Costco employee, Ed. Then Ed leaned over and whispered, “You should throw a tantrum. I see it all the time. Five year olds on the ground, kicking and screaming. Very effective. Unless…” He paused. “What??” I asked, desperate for any advice. “Unless he’s a walker-awayer.” A what? “A walker-awayer.” What is that? “You know, the parents that pretend that the screaming child isn’t theirs. The ones that look at the child with contempt and seem to ask the question, ‘Who is raising this child? They should be put to death!’ And before you know it, they’re over at the meat counter.” Ed shook his head, dismayed. “He looks like a walker-awayer.”

Frank, who had left me standing in the middle of the store, clutching my case of 48 amazing colors, was now on a mission to find one more much-needed item. I sullenly returned the pens to their shelf.

Maybe next year. Maybe next year.

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Quick Update…

I have to run to a meeting in a few minutes, but here is a lowdown on my weekend (just in case someone reads my blogs…) Yesterday was our 1 month anniversary!!! YAY!

Friday Frank and I saw Intolerable Cruelty with Catherine Zeta and my baby George C. After that we went to dinner at Luigi’s on Rt.59 and then back home. Lovely night.

Saturday I had brunch with Katy S at Cracker Barrel. Then I put together a few things for Frank’s career fair at SIUC for his work. After that, I went home and put together dinner and we ate around 7:30ish. Craig and Jamie invited us up to see their townhouse. IT IS AMAZING! WOW! A world of difference since Jamie moved in–very clean, new room arrangements and furniture–overall, just awesome!! WOOHOO!!

Sunday I made pancakes and Frank had to fly off to SIU C for his career fair thing with work. Then I did some shopping, washed my car, went to church and came home for the night.

That’s it!! Gotta go!

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