Oh, I forgot to mention this weirdo freaky event that happened last Saturday night. So you know how I go to my private (er… community) hot tub like every single day it’s open? Well last weekend, I went into the gated pool area around 10 p.m. Took the pups with. They like to sniff around and shit in the flower beds. Bubbey didn’t feel like going so he just stayed home.

Well some dude (whom we’ve actually seen before) unlocked the gate, walked in, ignored my greeting, and proceeded into the changing/resting room. And he stayed in there forever. My stupid dogs didn’t do a damn thing. No barking, no snorting, nuthin’. Yeah, real protectors they are. So John and I had seen this guy maybe several months before. Back then, he’d come out of the room, and I thought he was a maintenance guy, so I was like, “Excuse me, excuse me…” I wanted to ask him about resetting the temperatures. He totally ignored me and walked out. This time, same deal except he was coming in. And he still totally ignored me, walked into the room, and then never came out. Sitting in the tub with my oblivious lame-o dogs, I started freaking myself out with the possible scenarios. I mean, Bubbey was off in la-la land in front of the tube… what if? At first, I planned to wait for him to come out, and then I’d go home. But it was like another 15 minutes, so I just left. Heart pounding and all. And then I got thinking…. what the hell is this guy doing in there? I mean, he has a key to the gate, so either he lives here or works here (maintenance?) or used to live here or maybe he opens the gate with a credit card? I don’t know. But it’s just a room with a bench. Nothing else. Is he a perv? Is he doing drugs? Is he seeking shelter? It was dark and I couldn’t even see what he looked like but I just wonder. And now I don’t go alone at night. Fucking pain in my ass. So annoying to change my schedule because of fear; yet seems pretty dumb to ignore my instincts… John thinks we should tell the home owners association but I always feel like those groups try to over-regulate everything. I mean, if he’s not hurting anyone, who really cares right? I just want to know why he goes there. Discovering new mysteries all the time. 🙂

John and I are supposed to be playing our game, well my game actually. Yes, the “how low can you go” cheapie game. I think I mentioned before that part of the program entailed cutting our energy consumption. So this winter, we turned off all the heat (we have ultra-inefficient heating panels in the celings, of all places) except at bedtime when we set the knob somewhere between 55 and 60. Yes, still pretty chilly but I also pile on three comforters so by morning, we are practically both waking with headaches due to the toasty bed. Anyway, I was disappointed that our last electricity bill nearly reached $100. Normally it’s less than $40. Then again, with all the rain, I haven’t been able to line-dry our clothes. I don’t know. Still doesn’t seem right but whatever… God, am I OCD or what?

Anyway, John and I did really well in January with cutting down on eating out. And I have to say, eating in is growing on me. Sure, the transition has increased our dependency on frozen foods (still healthier than restaurant foods right?) but at the same time, I think our portions are smaller and we are feeling better.

Looking at the numbers, grocery expenditures are up, restaurant costs are down… not a huge difference overall but I think the gains will become more substantial as time passes. And once I rid myself of my latest weakness (somehow I’ve picked up a clothes shopping bug), I’ll be all over this shit with my A game.

Yeah, I’m not sure what is up with my shopping itch. Too much WNTW perhaps. Nothing really major (I wear cheap crap anyway) but with all the clearance sales and stuff, I just couldn’t resist. And the odd thing is, I’m buying all these dresses. Like three of them. I’m like in some weird earthy-wanna-be-dressy phase. I know, how fancy can $10 buy, right?
Yeah, so I got this navy strapless pencil dress from Target. Thought it was cool and then when I put in on at home, John complained that the fabric was like umbrella material. Admittedly, the fabric is not so great but it was $10! I know, Stacy and Clinton would be pissed. Quality, quality, quality! I’m retarded. And the other problem is the length. I really need to get a full-length mirror at home. What the hell am I doing, right? See? I need help. Who’s gonna nominate me for WNTW? Seriously. And when the hell will I wear a dress like this? I really need to put more thought into my purchases.

That said, the second dress is actually pretty cool, except that, being on clearance, it’s one size off and John says it looks tenty (but who said he was an expert on this?). But my question is… all the flowy dresses out there, aren’t some supposed to be tenty? Who the hell can figure this shit out? Sigh. Whatever. This dress is cool. And it’s not Target: it’s Ann Taylor LOFT (I told you I’m earthy wanna be prissy). And since it only cost $18, I’m going to splurge on a tailor to get it right. Nice piece for the theater maybe? No picture, sorry. Ok, so I’ve gone on a tangent. I know none of you really give a rat’s ass about my stupid bargain buys. My apologies. The main idea? No more distractions: I’m bringing out my A game. 😉

John and I went to see Little Shop of Horrors at the American Musical Theater of San Jose this afternoon. First time at the venue, and the theater was really nice. Unfortunately, I used Goldstar Events to hook us up with half-price tickets and I have to say, row 15 didn’t sound very far away but holy crap did the acoustics suck. The culprit? That damn balcony overhang. I have to say, I love Goldstar for many reasons: we try new things, get out and about, see what’s happening in the city, on the peninsula, etc. But really, the quality of seats totally depends on the venue. For little cozy community theaters like Hillbarn in Foster City, Goldstar is perfect. I’d even say Goldstar would be alright for Cirque. But for larger stages like Broadway by the Bay’s San Mateo Performing Arts Center or AMTSJ, forget it: buy direct and fork over the dough for closer seats. Frankly, there is nothing worse than crap seats where the acoustics are fucked and you can’t see squat. Can you sense my annoyance? I mean, even at half off the tickets were not cheap. And then…. well whatever. Live and learn.

Fortunately, I already nailed down tickets for Cabaret at AMTSJ in March. Snatched those puppies up as soon as they became available. No games. I bagged us front row seats baby. Aww yeah. Can not wait. I just hope the production is stellar, because I wasn’t very impressed with today’s event, poor acoustics or otherwise… Maybe the story lacked gravity? I don’t know.

In other news, I put horseback riding on hold. The weather’s been nutty lately… random incidents of rain, flash flooding, thunder, lots of cold. Surely the ranch is muddy every damn weekend. This will be a nice break to reopen-up my Saturdays. Then when the weather warms, I’ll resume. Just hope I don’t lose my riding memory. Would be a pain to start from scratch.

I’m having a bit of a style crisis… again. Prompted by back-to-back episodes of TLC’s What Not to Wear (thanks Comcast On-Demand), I was reminded once more of my propensity for lame style. One episode featured this twenty-something lady who, to me, seemed ok. Khaki pants, button-down blue shirt, hair in a bun. Yes, I identified with her somewhat, and naturally, her style didn’t seem that bad. Well, she was deemed “BO-RING”! And that’s when I realized I was her: all solids, all standard colors. The next day, I decided to jazz things up a bit. So I wore a printed spring-ish wrap dress over a ribbed turtleneck, paired with my sheepskins boots. Yes, it was sketchy at best, but I figured it was Friday so anything could pass, right? It was bad news. And I need to invest in a full-length mirror. No, I didn’t pull it off, disappointingly.

So this weekend, Bubbey decided it was time to go shopping. We hit all the big stores on Saturday: Zara, MNG, Old Navy, BR, Gap, American Eagle, J. Crew, Ann Taylor. The result? One purchase. A dress from Ann Taylor. A pretty dress but it’s too big and John says it looks maternity. Ugh.

I had my 3-month performance review last Friday, and like my usual nerdy schoolgirl self, I was a little nervous. But I came out with flying colors. Hee, hee! Even scored several checkmarks in the “exceeds expectations” column. Ok, so to be honest, I was a bit disappointed there weren’t more ticks in that column, but whatever. Room to grow.

Speaking of which, on my weekly call to the fam, dad was happy to hear the news. But then he gave some weird-ass advice, particularly coming from a gung-ho workaholic himself. He said, “You know, first year, you don’t have to give full force. Because then you start off doing really well and when your performance plateaus, you don’t look as good. So maybe first year just give 70%. Then next year 80%, and increase from there.” Say what? I didn’t want to get into another tiff with Squabble Central, so I just “hmmed” my way through that part of the conversation. But wtf? I was offended. I mean, is he saying that just because this is a government job, and he disrespects government such that they don’t deserve to have hardcore workers? Has he just become jaded about the importance and value of work? I never saw him giving just 70%. I mean, Jesus Christ, that’s a C (if we’re putting it into grades that I understand more intimately). Whatever. I was irritated, because for one, I feel that advice isn’t very supportive of how much I love my job and of how much passion I feel for it. Plus, what’s wrong with giving something your all? I mean, as long as it’s not destroying me and turning me into a horrible person, why not give 100% to something I enjoy. Ugh. Anyway, I was annoyed.

And on that pleasant note, the conversation turned even better. “Oh, I wanted to ask you something…” Uh oh. “Johnny is doing much better now”… blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. “Do you think you could spend just a few minutes to talk to him…” Isn’t it enough that I communicated with him during the holidays? At first, it sounded like maybe he was getting back on track, but as our stay progressed, it became extremely apparent to both John and me that in fact, nothing has changed. My family still props him up. The dude misplaced his passport, so who ends up researching how to contact the authorities and how to get it replaced? My mother. Seriously folks. A.B. Duke scholar. Full ride to Duke on merit scholarship. Has his mother researching how to get his passport replaced. Of course he’s to blame. And they are to blame. He’s 33 years old. Grow the fuck up.

Anyway, father asks me, and I respond that I’ll think about it. “You have to think about something that just takes a few minutes to do?” I was pissed. Look, I heard your request, and I’m going to think about it. I should have just said, “If you demand an immediate answer, the answer is no.” Either way, the answer now is no, because this isn’t something that takes just a few minutes. This is a lifetime of pain. This is a lifetime of Little Emperor syndrome, exacerbated by a lifetime of parenting gone wrong. Fuck that. My OCD isn’t so bad that I’d voluntarily subject myself to repeated disappointment. That’s not to say I don’t believe in change. I do, but again, he has no motivation to change when everyone around him feeds him with a silver spoon. And that practice will certainly continue after he moves to Taiwan and is surrounded by my babying family over there. Barren womb forever, I tell you.

God, I’ve been so bad lately about writing. What’s the deal, right? To be honest, for the longest time, I’ve been meaning to update but somehow procrastination had gotten the best of me.

The new year’s kicked off to a decent start. No resolutions list as with last year, but don’t worry, mentally, I have a to do. Always have my to do. I’m thinking get in shape, get back on the Spanish train, kick ass at the job that I love… in general, eat less, move more, learn more, and give more.

My buddy Tina has turned out to be a real blessing. She’s a total trooper… signs up for all the activities I want to do (but Bubbey doesn’t). We’re carpooling, sharing magazines, making dinner, rollerblading… she’s like a sister I never had. Of course, all my dear friends are like sisters but it’s nice because Tina lives five minutes away. So it’s good: we sort of motivate each other to be more active than we would be individually. Plus, John’s been hammered at work lately. I mean, he’s the total superstar (won the company “Hero of 2007” Award) so that’s really awesome, but he works A LOT. I mean, take tonight for example. He got home about an hour later than he said, we ate dinner with his iPhone next to his bowl, and now he’s on a work call. Ahh, such is the life of the workaholic. Who can blame him. I also do some bit of work from home every night. Then again, I’m a wannabe overachiever and well, I love my work, what can I say. A workaholic can’t rag on another workaholic, right?

Speaking more of my work, I had a big presentation Monday to all the managers. Gave a sort of web update. I was all stressed: spent the weekend prior doing my slides, running through my spiel. Thankfully, the meeting went well. This week I’ve been working on some budgeting stuff. Love the responsibilities of this job. I’m learning so much. Totally rocks. Plus, I recently joined NTEN, the Nonprofit Technology Network. They’re having a conference in New Orleans in March, and work might even pay for me to go! How sweet would that be? On my down time, I’ll have to hit up my buddies Brad and Angie. Yup. I’m a celeb gossip freak that way.

Oh, John’s company just released their new 2008 HR policies. Unlimited paid vacation. Can you fucking believe? As long as you get your shit done and the manager approves, you’re home fucking free. Plus, they pay half of your gym membership. Dotcom companies, man. Flush with cash. And they say government benefits are good. My benefits are shit compared to his. Sigh. Oh well, the good thing is that he may go with me to Orleans, so that could be a fun little adventure.

In other news, I climbed back in the saddle last Saturday– first time since before Christmas. I rode Tucker this time— even larger than Hobbs. This horse was so humongous that the top of my head only reached the base of his neck. I know! Massive! And he kicked my bony butt big time. I am so frickin’ bruised. At first, I was having a blast riding him fast around the ring. Then, he started going faster and faster and the next thing I knew, he was cutting the corners and shit. My ass was literally slamming in and out of the saddle. My instructor kept saying slow him down (I had the reins so fucking tight: he didn’t give a damn) and get a deeper seat. I swear, I must’ve looked like a wussy little rag doll getting thrashed about. Fucking horse. But he sure was a looker. I know, I’m such the masochist. He beats me up and I still brush him for an hour afterwards and feed him apples. I hope I get him again this weekend. I’ll so him who’s the boss.

Last weekend John and I also took our bicycles to the shop for brake adjustments. Let me tell you: bike repairs are crazy expensive. $60 to adjust the brakes on both bikes. Wtf? I mean seriously, how does bicycle repair cost more than auto repair? Honestly people. So annoying. But whatev, I was sick of fidgeting with the brakes on my own. At least now we’re set. John and I are going for a spin on Sunday. Can’t wait.

Well Bembo is harassing the shit out of me now. It’s time for their walk. Demanding little brats. But oh so cute. Signing off now. More later.

John and I barely made it to midnight on New Year’s. I’d like to blame it on the jetlag (we flew in late the day before), but more realistically, we’re just old farts. We were going to dig up our 07 resolutions (yes, he forced us to write them down) and see how we did, but someone lost them. Oh well, I think I met a lot of my goals so I’m feeling pretty good about 07. Well except for the year-end extra poundage (speaking of the fat dog). Yup, I think my body was prepping for hibernation or something. Got a little muffin top in time for the holidays. Oh well, reason enough for some new resolutions– healthier meals, more exercise, etc. I recently tried a cherry-glaze lamb chop recipe out of Cooking Light. Pretty good. I think the magazine holds promise.

From my parents’ home in Maryland, I shipped a few more of our things in storage. I brought home a dish set Johnny gave us for our wedding. I know, I’m usually not one for home decorating and such, but the plates are part of this guy’s (William Kimball?) animal collection. So they are a bunch of farm animals. Super cute. And they will work nicely when I have my game nights and parties (I’m such a wannabe socialite).

More importantly, I shipped our two road bikes. I know, seems totally ridiculous to ship bicycles across the country, but my god, bikes are pricey these days. Like $400 each! So I did all my online research and shipping was only $40/bike via FedEx Ground. Granted I spent half a day on this project, retrieving bike boxes, disassembling the bikes with great difficulty (even with the help of my gramps Yeb), boxing, packaging, transporting to FedEx, etc. Yes, it was exhausting but I’m psyched to get them. The packages are slated to arrive tomorrow. I was thinking to just take them to REI for assembly and tune-up, but knowing my cheap-ass self, I’ll probably end up doing it (in our living room)!

Miraculously, our holiday in Maryland was much less stressful than years past. Not exactly sure why– it was still crazy, we still shuttled around in a car for hours each day, and Bubs and I still endured the stupid car squabbles between my mom and dad. Still, I guess we had a different mindset this time. We just tried not to let stuff get to us.

And let me tell you, the vacation certainly did not start off on a good note. God, there was this couple who sat behind us on the plane. They had their 5 year-old daughter wedged between them, and geez, the kid was more mature than the adults. Seriously people. If you’re going to have kids, please don’t be a child yourself. The dad kept whining to the mom: “Tell her to stop wiggling around in her seat, because she’s knocking off all my electronics!” Uh hello, the kid is sitting right next to you: tell her your damn self. And control your frickin’ kid for Crissakes. Anyway, after his puerile fit, he proceed to step out into the aisle and do yoga stretches. Say what? Yup exactly. And he started like putting his feet on people’s seats, he leaned into John’s seatback… wtf? Total asshole. Needless to say, this punk and his crew made our flight miserable. Was the least restful flight I’ve had in a long time.

Anyway, on to the holiday. Johnny was back in town: came home abruptly from Taiwan to take care of grad school paperwork, blah, blah. Who knows. There’s always something. I also got wind that he lost his passport, and of course who is “helping” him re-apply for a new one? My parents. Just hits a nerve everytime. I mean, my parents are frickin’ senior citizens now. Why are they wasting hours making calls and fumbling around online when my brainiac AB Duke scholar of a brother could be researching this shit on his own? Granted, I’m sure his online research skills are not as savvy as mine 🙂 but still, certainly they are far better than those of our parents, right? So annoying. He also gave me a book, The Secret, which John read in one night. John says it’s weird– all about how you can get everything you want with positive thinking. I’m all for good attitude but please. Asking the universe for a parking space (yes, the author uses that as an example!)? Stop being a lazy fucker and walk your ass from the far end of the lot. Plus, what kind of moron would trouble the universe with such a petty request? Lame. No, I haven’t read the book myself, so I know my comment is very judgmental. That’s why this is no one else’s blog but mine.

In other news, I saw my in-laws. They are the same. And their dog Oliver. Holy shit. Fat. as. hell. I mean, what do I expect: eggs/bacon every morning for breakfast, his usual monstrous scoops of dog kibble, plus a goddamn treat every five minutes (for doing NOTHING, mind you). Seriously, the dog is supposed to be maybe 80 lbs. He weighs more than I do. Plus he has hip dysplasia. And my mom-in-law had the nerve to say, “He’s just really big boned. Now, tell me if you think otherwise, but I don’t think he’s…” Even before she finished, I said, “Yeah, he’s FAT!” I think she was a bit surprised by my bluntness, but hey, denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. Poor, poor dog. He’s going to have a very short life, and no matter how much enjoyment he gets from food, I’m sure he’d enjoy strong health and real canine mobility much more. He can’t even run around with the neighbor’s dog. Ugh. Dog needs to go to a boot camp.

My final week at work before the holiday was busy. Honestly, I felt like I was in finals week at college. Yes, mostly self-imposed pressure but Jesus, after that huge website debacle the week before, I was obsessed with moving to a new web host. After much research, I settled on CrystalTech, and I have to say, they rock. Super affordable but more important than anything, their service is awesome. Responsive, knowledgeable, and oh so attentive. After purchasing the plan, my account was set up and ready for uploading in like ten minutes. When I called about setting up my MSSQL databases, the tech people actually suggested software to use and ideal file formats. OMFG, such a world of difference compared to Shit plus (A Plus). Anyway, can’t say enough about CT. The new site is up, I just need to make some tweaks to the admin pages and then we are good to go. Propagating before the new year.

In other news, I’m back on the east coast now. John and I flew in last night and my god, the flight was hell. I don’t know if it’s the 6-7 lbs. I’ve put on since Thanksgiving or what, but the frickin’ seat was uncomfortable as hell. I was so crammed. I mean, I still slept most of the flight, but still, I was irritated. Then, a couple with a kid sat behind us and they kept bickering. The husband was especially annoying. He got out into the aisle and started doing yoga stretches, putting his feet on people’s seats and shit. Then he kept leaning against John’s chair pushing it back with the pressure. What an asshole. Seriously, if what he was doing was no big nuisance, why didn’t he do it on his wife’s chair? Ugh. We were so pissed. They were like Rockville people. If you’re from the DC metro area, you know what we mean.

So tomorrow’s the big day. John and I went out to the store for some last minute shopping. I’ve been wrapping gifts out my ass. My mother-in-law asked if we wanted to go to church. “No pressure and it doesn’t really matter,” but we were asked about three times. I baked brownies for the siblings and leave it to me to screw up one of the batches. Hey, stuff just doesn’t bake right when there are two dishes in the oven. Oh well, in the end, it all worked out since Susan is now vegan. So that cuts out one person, and I managed to have enough brownies that made the cut.

Yes, she’s vegan now and I have to say, I’m curious how this will go with the family. Got to give her credit for hanging tough. Seriously, no butter, cheese, or diary? I should consider vegetarianism again, if anything, it’s maybe an effective way to drop this turkey weight. Jeans and pants are all tight again. What a total beotch.

Ok well I’m ready to go home to California already. I just like to have my things, my doggies, and my own schedule you know what I mean? The holidays are exhausting.

The other day I went shopping Bubbey style. I was in and out of the Old Navy store in record time. I was looking for a sweater, spotted a simple v-neck in one of my favorite colors (eggplant), and within minutes I was out the door.

Of course, the next morning when I put it on, the waist area seemed oddly paunchy. I figured someone must have tried to squeeze into her wrong size. I popped it in the dryer to give it a shrink and then off I went.

Well, I received my statement today: it read Women’s Maternity. Yup. I picked up a frickin’ sweater for a pregnant woman. I of all people. I who proudly waves the “Barren Womb Forever” banner. I selected maternity wear. Ugh. Well there’s no question that shit’s going back. In my defense though, I did get the right size. I just happened to miss the very difficult to read italicized gold embroider on the label. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.