...and then there were...none.

It is record-setting. It is heart-breaking. It is tragic. This morning news of yet another person I once knew has passed away. Less than twenty days ago, a gentle, kind-hearted young man left us.

DC,

What the hell happened, man? We have not talked in so long, so imagine my disbelief when I found out. I wanted so hard to believe it was someone else. I was told to Google your incident to read more about it. I wish I hadn't.

What the hell were you doing? Were you fucked up? Were you really on your way to work? I know you would not take your life - so why the hell did you bust-a-u on the Tollway? Why?! What were you thinking? Your fiance. Your little baby girl. What are they going to do without you?

I hope you did not suffer. I hope you are resting in peace. You deserve the best any world can offer you. You may not have made the best choices all the time, but you always had everyone's best interest at heart. I will never forget the times we shared. Our rooftop moments. The night outside Mark's apartment. Your apartment. Endless nights at Bennigan's. Your smile and laugh were infectious. Your memories live inside of me.

Rest in Peace.

i'm real.

"Sometimes I just don't know about you..."

Though they may not seem like hurtful words, they hit me hard. Real hard. Coming from someone I trust and someone who is genuinely honest. For someone like that to not know...to have doubts about me and my actions...it does not feel good.

When I asked what he meant and what he did not know, he replied by saying I was "too nice." I must have missed the memo where every once in awhile we are supposed to be bastards to our friends so that they do not question our motives. So that we do not come across as "too nice."

I do not think I am "too nice." Not even close. I must admit that I am probably nicer to him than I am to others, but that is only because he is truly one of the most sincere people I have ever met. I have never had even an inkling of desire to be rude or mean to him, never had a reason. Maybe he needs to see the bitch in me to know that I am real.

one size does not fit all.

Dear Leasing Office Bitch,

I do not hate you because you are fat. I hate you because I partially blame you for my missing Victoria Secret Package. I blame you because you never seem to give a damn. Whether it is because you think I am a little kid unworthy of your efforts or undivided attention or because you hate your job. I hate you. I hate the way you talk. I hate the way you fix your bra strap mid conversation. I hate that you were probably responsible for my lost package and will not get off your lazy, fat ass to investigate the matter.

I know these hateful words will not bring to life my misplaced panties and bras. I know I must sound shallow and materialistic. I am just angry. Extremely angry. Again, I do not hate you because you are fat, but I do believe you would be a better person if you dropped a few hundred pounds and pretended to care.


Sincerely,

Unhappy Tenant

slightly shaken, never stirred.

Overwhelmed by a craving for a frappaccino, I caved and indulged in a vanilla bean one. If I am not mistaken, it was the first frappaccino I had had since high school. It was delicious until it became all frothy. My Tall order was just enough to satisfy my craving.

My bad luck with cameras (and cell phones) precedes me. Goodbye, Sony Cybershot. Though you did not have the quickest shutter speed or the steadiest shot, you were a clean looking camera, and I liked you. I gave into my girly tastes when I bought you. How could you let me down for no good reason at all?

Stupid Parks and Recreation show. The only line worthy of quoting during the entire first 30 minute episode was, "...what I hear when I am being yelled at are people caring loudly at me."

I will admit, there are times I spend more time getting ready for the gym than I do getting ready for work. Basketball shoes or cross-trainers? Tank top or t-shirt? Some times I even smell better when I go to the gym. Don't judge.

I am very much a local-bar girl. Though I would not consider it a 'dive' or hole-in-the-wall, Austin Avenue is far from The Living Room or Ghost Bar, even. And I love it like that. No worries about what to wear. No one to judge. Always interesting people to meet. Always a good time to be had.

Another tax day has come and gone. I have come up with my own personal slogan...

Each year I owe more and more.
The government sees me as a money sucking whore.

missing March and its Madness.

All the anxiety that precedes the Mavericks and the other teams fighting for the last few spots in the playoffs does not even compare to that which encompasses the tournament. Every year I talk about how March is my favorite month, and every year it never lets me down. Though this year's tournament did not seem as exciting to some because it seemed to favor all the top seeded teams, it was still in high spirits. I am going to step outside the box and say that this year I actually enjoyed watching the Women's tournament and the NIT slightly more than the Men's tournament.

Only in the Women's tournament will you see players on the floor crying tears of happiness and sadness (unless Adam Morrison is playing). Only would a player on the Sooners womens team offer to payback her scholarship if her team did not win the championship. Only in the Women's tournament would a coach ignore one of his top players to prove a point. Only in the Women's tournament is 50+ points a high scoring game.

Oh, and only for the Women's tournament, would a video be made with a Miley Cyrus song...



Congratulations to the UConn Women's Basketball Team and UNC's Men's Team.

bookmark this page.

For the first time since the Goosebumps (R.L. Stine) days, I finished a book - cover to cover. (So what if it took me over two months.)



It is no Shakespeare...or Stephenie Meyer for that matter. Rather, it is written in a language that I understand - caustic wit, and is about real life situations and insights, not vampires and the frivolous labor of love.

Recommended by a friend, the book has encouraged me to recognize and consider all passing intuitions and thoughts. I have an appreciation for humor, and now more so for satirical humor. The fact that words on a page can make me laugh out loud brings me hope. Hope for nothing in particular, just hope and glee. (That's right, bitches, I used the word 'glee.')

C. Parker.

When I first heard she was going to be on the cover of ESPN pregnant, I thought 'ew.' But now that I have seen it, I think 'dayum.'


Only Candace Parker can make being pregnant look hot. (Even Alba did not look this good.)

my idols.

Let's hear it for my favorite idols this season...

Adam Lambert and Anoop(dog) Desai.

Anoop won me over with his UNC gigs posted on YouTube. He gives Chris Brown and T-Pain a run for their money. I would love to see someone like him win Idol, though I do not think he will win all of America over.

But I absolutely love Adam. Something about him is just so hot.

piercing random thoughts.

"If bad things are happening to people around you, then I do not want to be around you."

I miss my piercing. So I got another one. I like piercings.


It is no tongue ring, but it will have to do...for now.

I had a One Tree Hill marathon to catch myself up on this season's episodes. Some of the episodes made me tear up...

General Hospital needs to develop a good story line...SOON!

I have worked only 15.5 out of my 83+ scheduled hours this week. Wish me luck.

Damn Longhorns play with no heart. Stupid Mavericks play with no heart. March is supposed to be a good month!

Watching ABDC makes me wish I could dance. Quest and Beat Freaks were amazing - 'Freak your dream.'

Flautas at Taco Cabana are heavenly. I cannot believe I just discovered them.

I am not a victim.

I have had the past few Sundays off from both jobs. A new routine has developed: church in the morning and Starbucks in the afternoon. I decided to attend church not to find God or establish a faith in any religion, but rather gravitated to a place where I could possibly listen to some words of guidance and maybe grasp a sense of direction.

Starbucks is my home away from home. I can sit there and people-watch all day, with my iTouch plugged into my ears and an invisible bubble around me and my table and chair next to the window.

Today, I sat there thinking about all the realities I have been faced with this year. All the misfortunes, and all the uncertainties to come. I went to church this morning in hopes that I could clear my mind, only to find out about another misfortune. Without hesitation, I put my name on the bone marrow registry today. Jodie is such a kind, and wholesome person. She deserves to live; her family deserves to have her in their lives. The least I could do is have my cheeks swabbed in hopes that I am a match. Though the likelihood of that is one in a million.

I miss the carefree days of being in school, when my only real responsibility was to bring home decent grades, which I barely managed to do post-10th grade. Now, I am faced with real world challenges and obstacles. This 'recession' is not going away. And for the first time in my life, I fear for my future that I have no control over. I heard about all the people that were laid off at TI. And then there were all the people at Exxon. But now it is hitting harder at home. I saw it coming...and now it is here.

I am not a victim. But I refuse to be a bystander.

lip slut.

I have been called a lip slut.

During college, I discovered this entertaining habit of making out with random guys in bars/clubs. It was fun; but that game ended when I left Austin.

This past weekend, my lips resurfaced. On night one, I made out with two random guys. Separately, of course. Night two, I took a break. Night three, my lips got action again.

Too bad this lip slut is still single.

no time for punctuation.

Fuck the grammar. Fuck the punctuation...the subject/verb agreement. Who has time to put together proper sentences, when one cannot even make sense out of life. You capitalize a letter to indicate the beginning...you punctuate to end. But who chooses the punctuation? Who gets to decide if it is a period...an exclamation mark...a question mark?

2009 has been a shitty year. I will be the first to admit that I can be, at times, an extremely pessimistic person. But please know that something always ignites the pessimism. It does not grow without water. This past month and a half, the water has been treacherous. It seems everyone's health has been on the decline.

First my sister's incident. Then co-worker after co-worker. Trickling all the way down to acquaintances and strangers. Cancer. Depression. Death...after death. I cannot even grasp the frequency of these unfortunate situations. How can someone all of a sudden have a lump? How can one go into a physical examination healthy, and then come out with an aortic aneurysm? How does one wake up one morning with the idea of playing racquetball, not thinking it may be his last game...ever? How does a kind, talented person end up alongside a major highway...dead? How does someone get so lost and confused that the only answer that seems to remotely make sense is the answer furthest from the truth.

It is not about me. None of it is. But how do I help? There has to be something I can do. I refuse to think there is nothing. I refuse. I cannot give up hope. It is taking everything out of me to be hopeful. One that is not religious...has no religion...and I find myself at church. I close my eyes and accept that God, or any higher being for that matter, may not be the answer but that it is a direction I am willing to face...for anything that may remotely resemble answers. My soul cannot take any more. But again, it is not about me.

Please end my thoughts with positive and hopeful punctuation. Amen.

'closing up' a chapter.

This past Wednesday, I closed up a chapter in my life. Literally. My tongue ring had been closing up, due to the fact that I have been neglecting it by going days without wearing a tongue ring. Wednesday morning, I practically had to re-pierce the hole when I attempted to force the 12 gauge through. After hours of agitation while at work, I decided maybe it was time.

April 1, 2004. After several trips to True Blue, I was finally healthy enough to get my tongue pierced. (They refused my business previous times due to a compromised immune system...I really just had a bad cough, but whatever.) It was not nearly as bad as I imagined. In fact, I distinctly remember saying the cartilage piercing was more painful. I also remember seeing the small chunk of tongue-meat being removed prior to the bar being placed in the hole. Yum.

While a tongue piercing came with several innuendos, I truly just enjoyed it as an accessory. I know people passed judgment and came to certain conclusions based on a damn hole in my tongue. I, in a way, thrived on their ignorance. Maybe there were ties to sexual tendencies that made me play with the ring all the time. I had a horrible habit of biting on it and running it against my teeth. I went through several plastic spacers, swallowed many balls...I even had to get my teeth filed. But I loved my piercing. I loved it so much I even thought about getting a second one...but it was not possible, as my piercing was placed dead center between my frenulum and the tip of my tongue. No room.

My tongue ring reminded me of some of the best memories I have had. I associate a lot of those memories with my senior year, post-college, and the Zetas. I loved being able to casually show my tongue ring to random people, and taking note of how they reacted. I liked it because it was different. I liked it because it made me me. And now it is gone. Time for another piercing, perhaps?

technician > pharmacy manager.

If you are incompetent, at least have the balls to admit it.
If you are a supervisor, find a way to appreciate your subordinates.
If you are not good at your job, at least find something about your job to be good at.
Everyone makes mistakes. But do not be guilty of the biggest mistake of all...not admitting to your own.

I can type 10 prescriptions faster than you can fill ONE.
I type, pull drugs, and count. All you do is scribble three damn letters on the bottle.
I put up with the miserable, cranky customers; you hide behind the damn counters.
I spend hours on the phone with insurance companies, only to have you claim all the credit from the customers.

You get paid more than 10 times as much as I do...and for what?! Make your registered pharmacist-ass useful.

can't help but worry.

Ever since I can remember, I have been the epitome of a worry-wort. The littlest things to the most significant things...I worry. So, imagine when my sister called me one night and told me she had been throwing up continuously for 2 days. I worried.

I told her to go see a doctor. With limited means of transportation, she went to the school clinic. I am quickly reminded of the treatment I got at the Student Services Building at UT. Cough, sore throat, chest pain. No matter what the symptom, the diagnosis was always 'allergies.' Allergies my ass. So, of course, I have absolutely no faith in the so-called doctors at any campus clinic.

My distrust was confirmed when they sent my sister home with anti-nausea medication to treat the flu. She continued to throw up for 2 more days. She had lost 10 pounds. I then insisted she see a real doctor. She ended up at an emergency room, set up with IV treatment, and then released.

Once my parents were informed, they quickly made a trip to College Station. They then decided to pick her up and take her back home. While they thought all she needed was rest in a comfortable environment, I insisted she see another doctor - a real doctor. I practically had to beg my parents to take her to a doctor. The extent of the conversation made me furious. My parents made me so upset. For a moment, I had lost faith in doctors and my parents.

For all that it is worth, I am glad she is getting better.

the end.

I love to write. Do I think I am good at writing, no. But I love to write. It takes me 5 hours to put down 5 sentences, but I love to write. I love how sentences come together and form a thought. The thought then sometimes generates into a story. A story told by me.

So I have a friend who also loves to write. He has shared some writings with me before. Today he shared a short story. It read like a person with a huge heart. It spoke colorful words, as I made my way to the end. The end...

His loneliness was back again staring him square in the face. Reality killed him, not the gun he stuck in his mouth. The Love that was "forever"........was for him.

...the end.

my vote did not count.

So we have our first Black President. On that note, I will now attempt to rant on about politics, or my lack of knowledge thereof, and why I do not vote...

I am sick of people lecturing me because I do not vote. Just as it is my so-called right to vote, it is also my right not to. Do you really want uneducated people like me voting? The only reason I even knew who the candidates were this year was because of all the SNL talk. I would not be able to tell you one platform from another.

I feel like this year's campaign has been about color and gender. Now why would I want to be apart of that? Black versus white. Male versus female. Old versus young. Majority versus minority. Our future does not look to bright if this is going to be the basis of decisions to be made.

Congratulations to the new President. I can only hope the country made the best choice.

I love football.

There has been something about Thursday and Monday night football this season. They have all been exceptionally played games. Unfortunately for me, I have had to go to work early the next morning.

I have a problem saying no when people ask me to work. I recognize my limits, yet I give in.

It had been several years since I have had an annual physical. Knowing my body has been through a great deal the past few years, I anticipated changes in my lab results. Sure enough, seems I need to take better care of myself - which may include holding back on some of my indulgences. Not to be mistaken with a diet.

I have found a writer whose writing I do not mind reading. Writings are short, yet entertainingly humorous.

What is worse than being on the rag, is being on the rag while sick and having to work 14 hour days. Oh, and throw in a cold sore. Yeah, that is the shits.

I now know why Mondays are dreaded by normal 9-5ers. It is dreaded so much that it almost makes Sunday nights less enjoyable.

flaming thumb tacks.

Who would have ever thought the Tennessee Titans would be UNDEFEATED?! When people ask me what my favorite NFL team is, I claim the Titans. Everyone just assumes it is because of Vince Young. Please. With as many "issues" as Vince Young has right now, I would be damned to place my love for a team in his hands. I have been a silent fan of the Titans since 1999 when they changed their name from the Oilers. I loved Eddie George, and I especially loved how tight McNair wore this uniform. It was almost as sexy as John Stockton in his short shorts.

Several years later, is it now the Titan's defense that dominates, not the offense. GO TITANS!

Hook 'em!

This year's Red River game ranks among the top 5 games ever!



The game was amazing. Colt was amazing. Shipley was amazing. Cosby was amazing. I want to have all their babies!

Oh, what I would have given to come face to face with that OU fucker after the game. This OU fan thought it would be cool to stare at us the whole game while cheering for OU. And then he had the nerve to ask, "Do you guys even know anything about football?" I vaguely remember saying something like, "...short and inches. Just like your penis!" some time during the game when OU was inches short of a down. Ha.

Cheers to my Longhorns! Hook 'em!