So shit is blowing up at work, a lot of it has to do with me being fed up and I'm just not playing nice anymore. The other half is catalog deadline stuff that is entirely frustrating.

So late this afternoon I'm going to get a massage because if I don't I might actually stroke out.

To remind myself that what I really live for is the weekend, the car, friends and some beer:

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Even my scalp got burned

The end of Sunday afternoon found me with a mild sunburn (despite the SPF 30 I applied) and standing in the cool, cool shower drinking beer.

Wait, what?

Yes, I just could not wait until I got out of the shower to have a beer. Some might call that a "problem" but I call it multitasking.

Yumi and I had gone for a ride in the Migdet, what was supposed to be a short ride somehow turned out to be a 2 hour adventure that ended up with us within a mile of West Virgina border. Which considering where we live isn't hard, but still takes some doing.

So I stopped in this small town at the local gas station/hardware store/deli counter/autoparts/grocery store to buy a map. The only map they had was extremely crusty and looked like it might have been printed shortly after the civil war.

Yumi bravely purchased a piece of beef jerky, and usually I would be all about the beef jerky, mmm dried meat. And I'm so not kidding about that. So beef jerky and dirty ass map in hand we headed back out.

Yumi spent the rest of the ride gnawing on the beef until she decided that she would wrap up her half gnawed piece of jerky and put it in her purse for her husband.

Can I just repeat that?

She wrapped it up and put it in her purse for her husband. For real.

Finally we made it home, and then it was pretty much post haste to get the grime of the drive off. Oh and work a brush through my tangled mane. For real, I will never again try to clip my hair into a twist at the back of my head and go for a drive in a convertible.

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Seriously, is there anything better about being an adult than the fact that you can have only brownies for dinner and no one yells at you?

Because there might not be.

Everyone should make these, which are better the day after if tightly covered. They get denser and fudgy-er.

Cocoa Brownies
Alton Brown

Soft butter, for greasing the pan
Flour, for dusting the buttered pan
4 large eggs
1 cup sugar, sifted
1 cup brown sugar, sifted
8 ounces melted butter
11/4 cups cocoa, sifted
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup flour, sifted
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Butter and flour an 8-inch square pan.

In a mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, beat the eggs at medium speed until fluffy and light yellow. Add both sugars. Add remaining ingredients, and mix to combine.

Pour the batter into a greased and floured 8-inch square pan and bake for 45 minutes. Check for doneness with the tried-and-true toothpick method: a toothpick inserted into the center of the pan should come out clean. When it's done, remove to a rack to cool. Resist the temptation to cut into it until it's mostly coo

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Oh bother.

Is it ok that I want to put my head down on my desk and cry?

Because I do.

I've got a headache and a wicked bad craving for a pan full of brownies. Yet neither of them have a real workable solution while I'm still at work.

I'm contemplating going home early and then making myself some delicious little brownies and devouring the whole tin while watching Practical Magic during which I will cry at the end because I'm a big ass baby. Maybe I'll also drink some beer, because I can.

Brownies and not working out (working out was on the agenda today-but no longer) is not exactly what I should be doing but ptthhhh.

Indulge me a bit while I ramble on and on about dating. I know you've listened to me about this very subject already, but I've got more to say.

Over the last 6 months I've been a bit quiet about the subject entirely. I've started countless posts about it, and in fact this one might well end up filed away as another draft. But maybe this time I'll manage to fit all of my feelings into a pretty little concise box.

As part of an effort to broaden my horizons I decided that I was going to date men outside of my comfort zone. I'm not talking shiv welding former inmates, but more like the quirky, slightly androgynous guy. I've been taking chances, being more bold. A little more saucy rather than cautious.

And it has paid off, sort of. Gentleman #1 was lovely, and I thought we had a good time but in the end he was uninterested in me as he didn't return my phone call. It's cool though, since we were friends before and remain friends after. I'll admit it took me a couple of weeks to get back to that point but it is amazing what happens when you start dating someone else, voila! you can instantly become friends again because you are so interested in getting into another man's pants.

Gentleman #2, all talk and no action. This happens a lot with internet dating websites. You exchange emails for a little while and then it just fizzles. I've got a couple of theories as to why this happens, one being they met someone else and two being that after a certain period of time if you've not met it just isn't going to happen.

Which in Gentleman #2's case might have been partly my fault. I was in Cleveland for my grandfather's funeral and had to back out of two dates with this guy because I got snowed in for much longer than I expected. He never responded to my email about rescheduling.

But then I met Gentleman #3, and it was on. He was lovely, smart, funny and cute. This dude was a direct result of me taking a risk and emailing him out of the blue (on myspace). So what happened?

Wisconsin happened.

Fucking cheeseheads. (I say that with the most love though because some of my favorite people live in Wisconsin, and lord knows I love the cheese.)

He got a job offer in Madison and that was the end of that.

I took some time off after that, to lick my wounds and all that bullshit. And I've been trying to get back into the swing of things. But I just can't. I feel stalled. Uninterested.

It isn't that I'm hung up on Gentleman #3, but every other guy I've come across is just lacking something that makes me want to take that step forward.

It is not a lack of self confidence, it is really a lack of interest. Right now I just don't feel like I have the energy to put myself out there, to even go on those bad dates that you know will be great for your bad date archive of hilarious stories. I'd much rather be biking.


Jersey nerd.

So in this town people who bike wear jerseys (I'm sure people in other places wear them too but I can only speak to this little town). And because I'm a lemming I purchased my first jersey this weekend.

I'm still a major novice in the bike arena, and continually get passed by other riders. But at least now I'll look like everyone else while it's happening.

This weekend was a pain in the ass when it came to ride though. I tried to go for a ride on Friday but it was one thing after another and eventually I gave up. First I couldn't find my shorts, this is why I need another pair. Or several more pairs. I would also like some money with which to purchase these pairs. Please and Thank You.

Then after I located my pants I drove down to one of the paths and of course realized I had somehow misplaced a spring that goes on the front tire. Pisser. So I reloaded the bike back up (I don't have a fancy bike rack, I take the tire off and slide it into the trunk/backseat of my civic) and drove over to the bike shop to get a replacement spring. It took them awhile to locate the right size, but the lovely fellows over Athens Bicycle gave it to me for free. They rock in all the most awesome ways.

Then on Saturday I went out, but I couldn't seem to get my muscles to warm up and quit after a 12.5 mile ride. Which was so unbelievably frustrating since I'd planned on doing 25 miles, but it was partially my own fault for not dressing warmly enough and the day ended up being cool/chilly on the path I was biking.

Sunday I'd planned to go for a ride in the afternoon, dressed appropriately this time, but then my second job totally shut that down. I forgot I needed to be around to interview my replacement. And somehow that took ALL DAY. Seriously. By the time one the last of the interview committee left it was 7pm.

In other news though when the woman who was interviewing to replace me laughed in the President's face when she told her the salary they were offering. That was awesome. Although it pains me that this woman will walk in  and right away get a bunch more money than I did in the three years I've been there. That makes sound a bit petty and foolish but it stings.

Then again, I'm the one who is going to be free. FREE.

Hey CBS, fuck you.

You went and canceled Jericho. You can go to hell. Goddamnmotherfuckingcocksuckertitwankerassholes.

STFU. Seriously.

Yesterday I was sitting in my doctor's new, very tranquil, very posh waiting room. I was enjoying the quiet and the soft sounds of the new water feature they had installed. It was great, I felt like I was at a spa. A spa for your business. Your lady business.

Then in through the double doors crashed this woman. Heavily sighing and throwing around her bright teal studded purse. Of course she was late, like 30 minutes late. And it wasn't her fault, the doctor's office moved like 4 months ago and she didn't know. But yet she was a new patient- I'm sure they would have given her the new address on the phone but whatever.

They were going to try to fit her in, and were very nice about it.

She immediately starts up with the sighing, so very loudly and again tossing around that damn purse. I wanted to beat her over the head with that enormous bag by the time they called my name to go on back.

She immediately got on her cell phone and LOUDLY, SO VERY LOUDLY started complaining to her friend who referred her to my lovely doctor. But because that isn't enough she called her mother to complain. Over and over I had to listen to her whine about the traffic, the doctor's office moving, her condition (seriously, this last one was so far into shut the fuck up territory).

The lovely tranquil feeling that my doctor had gone so overboard to provide his patients was gone, instead I felt like I was in my local Wal-Mart. And we all know how I feel about Wal-Mart.

It seriously doesn't get any better.

I'm going to attempt to describe my awesome weekend, and the reason I say attempt is there is a serious possibility that it might be something that cannot be communicated with words.

Clearly I had a fantastic time on Saturday night, I was perfectly happy to blog about it at 2am-ish after having several lovely cocktails. I'll admit that I'm impressed with my spelling and lack of typos, not that I was entirely inebriated but rather that perfect twilight where everything is just a bit fuzzy around the edges and you feel all sparkly and perfection.

Friday night, as boring as it may sound, was spent cleaning and reading. I scrubbed the floor in the bathroom and then set about cleaning the tub. I understand this it sounds terribly lame but really it needed to be done and there is that mildly euphoric high that comes when your apartment smells of nothing but clean and freshness. I'm sure the high can be attributed to inhaling all those wonderful cleaning chemicals. No one gets me higher than Mr. Clean, that man has the shit.

Saturday I got up early and went on a benefit bike ride with Summer for a local charity. 19.73 miles and 2 hours later I was exhausted. My legs were jello, and I wanted beer. But first we needed to eat lunch at the benefit (it was FREE! for bikers), and get hit on by a boy who was still in high school. Getting hit on was not included in the fee for the bike ride, but seriously they should consider adding it. Nothing pumps your ego more that a young man who is hitting on you even though you probably smell and are sweat covered and encased in spandex pants.

Although I think Summer looks entirely too good for having just riden 19.73 miles while I look like the victim of bitchslapping.

After that immensely gratifying experience we headed out to Summer's to chill in the hot tub and drink beer. Of course I got a bit of an odd sunburn on my face, because I'm nothing if not prone to having strange sunburns. This one centered on the left side of my forehead. Awesome.

Saturday evening was set up for grandness with dinner at one of my favorite local restaurants. Listen up people, I ate about 10 mussels. Me! The girl who shuns mussels and clams! I'm not the hugest fan of seafood but as I get older more and more of it seems to grow on me. It started with crab, crab was my gateway drug. Still is my seafood drug of choice. Give me hot butter and endless crab and you'll be amazed by what I can put away.

After that it was time for a post dinner cocktail and a really loud band at one of our usual bars. Nothing special. But then it was time to dance.

I've been dying to go dancing for over a month and half now, and if I lived in any sort of regular town I might have fulfilled that need long ago. But I don't, there isn't much dancing to be had in this one horse town. But once a month, there is Open Doors. It is the GLBT sponsored dance night, (that's Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgendered). Of course straight people are invited too. So I danced my ass off with my friends for several hours getting all hot and sweaty. At that point my friends were a bit overwhelmed with my enthusiasm and I'm sure that not all of my moves were golden but who the fuck cares? I don't.

In short summation since this entry is already running long, I'll wrap up the rest of my night: Was told I looked lovely and had the perfect sort of glistening aspect to my skin by one of the other dancers (a lady! I got hit on by a girl AND a high school boy today- neither groups of people I'm interested in but still highly flattered.) Then my friend and I got carded at one of the bars, the bounced told us we looked entirely too young to be in a our late 20s. Then the bartender asked to see our stamps indicating we were 'of age', again how young do we look?

The evening was wrapped up with me arguing with the hot dog cart guy. Seriously, dude, I don't want chili on my hot dog. Just give me a plain dog so I can go home and douse it in Stadium Mustard. I think I must of stood there for 5 minutes arguing with him, I should have walked away but I really wanted that motherfucking hot dog.

And Sunday was spent being leisurely and trying out a new Alton Brown recipe (a more detailed post on that coming soon). With a nice long nap thrown in for good measure.

I don't think it could have been any more perfect.

The perfect Saturday night

So who got perfectly drunk and danced all night?


That was the best night I've had in a long time. I'm still a little drunk, oh, who am I kidding I'm still entirely drunk. I love dance night.

lallalalalawhooooooo! (this is one of the phrases I'm sure came out of my mouth at some point tonight.)

Its happening again, I can't sit still.

I want to get the hell out of this office and ride my bike for lots and lots of miles. I want to go to the park and read the terribly trashy novels I got from the library this week. I wouldn't mind laying in the sun and doing nothing. Or drink some delicious microbrew raspberry wheat beer on the patio at O'Hooley's.

Just so long as it isn't the perfectly tempature controlled office environment I'm in right now. Something about the air conditioner blowing in the room is nearly inciting me to chuck my stapler at the window in the hopes that it breaks and lets in some real, hot, fresh air.

Racecar grocery carts

Baby fever update: Still in full effect.

2 of 4 kids were sick this weekend. James with really bad allergies and horrific cough, Kayleigh with strep throat. Within the first hour of getting there I had my 1 year old niece asleep in my arms, a feat which my sister was amazed at since she rarely goes to bed that early.

Yet, I still had a great time despite the sick kids and wasn't fazed by it in the least. The baby fever was not dampened. Granted I wasn't their mother who was up with them all night, poor Melissa only got 4 hours of sleep Friday and Saturday night. While I blissfully got a full 8, so perhaps the good sleep had something to do with it.

Melissa also made me push one of those awful racecar grocery carts, she MADE me do it. I protested loudly but still she said " You better start practicing now."

Newsflash Mel, I'm not pregnant. Nor am I about to become pregnant, even if I was it would be years before I would even have a child ask to use one of those carts. And still I wouldn't use one as I nearly took out a kindly looking older gentleman in the ethnic food aisle.

I'm sorry sir, but those carts are a bitch to steer. Which is exactly what I said to him.

Sharon, one of the un-sick kids, and I went for a bike ride on Saturday and had a blast. She can really bike, and tackled the hills with excitement. Especially considering that she has no gears on her bike and those hills were not small. She rode a full 2.6 miles.  

Much like me she tends to make crazy faces in photos, so this is what happened when I tried to take a photo post-ride.


At lunch today this was my fortune:

Your mate in life will bring you luck and be your guiding star.

Well, that is awesome. Just wish it could have been a little more specific on who my mate in life would be.

Baby Lust

I'm heading off this weekend to my sister's for some much needed sisterly time. And hopefully kill the crazy baby-lust that has overtaken my body.

She's got 4 babies, James, who isn't a baby anymore, he'll be 10 this month. How did the time pass so quickly? I remember when he would snuggle up on my chest and we'd take naps together. Now he is boy, actually an 87 year old man trapped in a boy's body.

After that she's got three daughters, Sharon (7), Kayleigh (4), and Stella (almost 1 year).

I've developed a raging case of baby lust. I'm single, with an ok job but with a baby I'd need to make more money, I don't own a home, and physically I'm in the best shape of my adult life which I'm not ready to give up just yet. The list could go on and on, I want to travel more, I'm not quite ready to give up going out every weekend or sleeping in. A baby is simply out of the question, but that doesn't stop my craving for one. I want a neck to snuggle, toes to bite, a belly to blow zerberts on.

Sarah had a post on this topic the other day, and I'm the complete polar opposite of her. Sure there is the part about the overwhelming responsibilty that freaks me the hell out but I've always wanted a family, babies and children and husband and a minivan.

Yes, I want a minivan. Shut the fuck up.

Maybe it is people's comments lately that have turned the smoldering flame of babylust into a full blown fire. At the Maple festival I was holding my friend's baby and out of nowhere she blurted out "You need to have a baby!"

Then my sister on the phone said this morning "I'm going to be so excited when you have a baby I'm going to move in!"

My niece Kayleigh calls me "Little Mommy".

What is the point of spilling all of this on the internet? I don't know, it's been batting around inside my head for weeks now and I just needed to get it out.

After last night's totally awesome Jericho aired I jumped off my couch and yelled "Fuck YEAH!"

I'm learning that I really do have almost no self control when it comes to spontaneous outbursts. And spontaneous outbursts can be anything, I guess I should really just admit I've got zero self control when it comes to blurting out whatever I want to say. Pthhhh.

In an effort to focus on other things and just see how I do money wise, I'm going to forgo cable and internet at home when I move. I'm looking forward to it actually, I was internetless for several years and I managed just fine. In fact I found it forced me to do the things that I really needed to do instead of spending time looking up random stuff like "Where did the phrase 'three sheets to the wind' come from?" Which was an actual internet search that made me win a bet recently.

But I will be turning the cable on (cable is necessary, we only have one local channel- PBS) come fall so that I can watch 3 hours of television a week- Jericho, The Office, How I Met Your Mother, and Grey's Anatomy.

But I won't be completely without modern entertainment, I'll still have my netflix. My dear precious netflix, manna from heaven, akin to baby Jesus's love (or so I've heard).

How come it is the day after I pledge not to spend any money I realize I need a bike jersey, bike shorts, sports cream, new tennis shoes and this dress?

Le Freak...

As someone who is generally a freak about money I'm totally getting whacked out about this move.

First the expense of renting a truck to get my couch from my parent's house to mine is going to cost me $200. Eeek! Then there is the fact that I need to buy a bed, and since a good bed is paramount to my general mood (crappy ass night of sleep= a grumpy ass Suzanne) it is going to run me some big dollars. Sure I could buy a cheaper bed and save myself some money but this is one area where I just can't budge.  

Then all the little shit, like a garbage can, plate drainer thing, cleaning supplies, etc. Getting all the utilities turned on.

Plus I NEED to buy that fucking suit for my triathlon.

Oh my god, I'm going to start crying.

Why? Because I'm the child of two perpetually poor financial planners and the thought of not being able to bank some serious cash into my savings freaks me the fuck out. FREAKS ME OUT.

I'll admit I've probably spent more money that I should have this year. I should have been stashing it all away in savings but I didn't. And that is my fault and I'll take responsibility for it, I didn't listen to or take my own advice.

So until I move, no more clothes shopping (even though I really do need new pants), and I'm going to limit my nights on the town- which I think I can do fairly easily.

Lunch out only once a week, and that money comes from my entertainment budget.

Got it sister. Buckle down mode is in full effect.