Archive for February, 2007

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I am an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, smothered in secret sauce.

1. I cried like a little whiny baby on the ride home today.  Except for my jaw doing weird things, I feel a little better.

1.5. Flexeril KICKS ASS.  14 (super cute, Monopoly house shaped) pills left.

2. My heart hurts.  Looking at how beautiful the clouds can be pushed me over the edge.

3. A co-worker and I shared fart stories this afternoon to lighten the mood.

4. Somebody tell me a happy story.  Anybody?  I’ll pay you.

5.  I thought James got kidnapped by the DMV today.   Not too seriously, but it was a concern.

6. That’s all.  Im tired of venting; this one’s gonna be short.

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My First Birthday!

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to Meee-eeeee….

I find it a little difficult to write a non-trite first birthday post for my little blog here.  Its hard not to say stuff like “wow I can’t believe its been a year!” and “I thank you ALL for being so supportive while I spill my guts.”  Because I can’t and I do but I don’t want to be all sappy, ya know.  So… Im just sayin.  Thanks.

I started Punctuated Palaver on the sly; she was my open minded mistress as I slowly stepped away from a blog I had been nurturing for about six years.   The older blog and I had some good times – it documented the beginning, drama, and development of my relationship with James, the long, histrionic death march of a doomed friendship marred by sex, lies, and abuse, and all sorts of other juicy stuff.  I used my real name over there (Tildy’s not my real name – shocking, I know!) and after an accidental outing all of my friends and some of my not-so-much-friends-but-I-or-James-hung-out-with-them-a-lot people started reading me.  I was effectively censored from all but the most tame subjects, and I felt myself losing my identity to the will of the mob.  It was an odd, flattering, ultimately suffocating feeling.   So I came here.

There were a few fits and starts before I landed, with a couch dress in tow.  I opened and closed two (or three?  I forget) blogs with varying levels of anonymity before I settled on this place.  James helped me with my oh so clever psuedonym, and I was delighted with myself for coming up with a punny blog title.  I pondered naming everyone who would be a regular character on here with a punctuation mark name (Ampersand, Mr. Colon, etc.) and quickly dropped that for the sake of all that is sane in the world.  Holy crap that would have been annoying.

Ive been through an exercise kick that nearly killed me, several money scares, porn purging, trial sized living with my boyfriend/fiancee,  the beginning my internship, and a whole bunch of knitting.

In early December I got a scare, finding some ridiculously specific search phrases pointing to my little online secret.  I freaked out and privated the whole blog, then tried to make a Tildy Grr Rockin’ Ranger Club where people could sign in as a contributer to see me, then realized that was super overkill and just password protected a hell of a lot of stuff.  Just a few weeks ago I finally settled into a good rhythm, figuring out what should be public (knitting!  weight loss!  romance!), which should be private (angst!  weight gain!  drama!) and what should be super duper private (sex!  lots and lots of sex!).  Certain people have certain passwords, and I feel really good about it all.  Woo micromanagement!

You’ve grown on me, little blog.  I feel more comfortable here than I have anywhere, with any blog, in a very long time.   Im glad you guys were here to see me grow.   Dammit – that was trite, wasnt it? I almost made it!


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Chocolately evilness.

I am currently sucking on a Dove dark chocolate bar with, ahem, “a natural source of cocoa flavonals” and a large ad for breast cancer awareness on the front. Mmm… moral superiority.

Ive been trying to recommit to my Nestle boycott – Ive been trying not to buy Nestle products for about five years, after someone told me what sort of crappy things they do in third world countries. Oo here ya go – linkage! Its a badly designed page, but has the most specific, concise information. Hope its not too confusing.

Ive since slipped back into a nasty Twix habit after some kerfuffle with my birth control – I hate to perpetuate some sort of female stereotype but I gotta have me some theobromine when my hormones go all wonkey or I will kill. I take chocolate medicinally, ya see. Thank goodness, Twix is a Mars Bars baby (as is Dove), so that wasn’t too bad. In the past few months Ive fallen off the Nestle wagon a bit, once I realized Kit Kat bars were only 220 calories for a package. Mmm. Crunchy chocolate. Too bad I keep thinking about starving babies when I eat ’em. That’s not good.

So Im back on it today. I re-signed up for the official Nestle Boycott petition, and looked through a list of Nestle products. Theyre frickin’ everywhere, my goodness.

Look at this shit! Et tu, Rolo? I can do it, though. As long as Twix and Dove aren’t evil, those around me won’t be harmed.

I’m off to write a paper that could theoretically discredit my entire line of work. Wish me luck – its due Monday.

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I love my boyfriend.  A lot.

We just had our fourth Valentines Day as a couple – every other year he’s given me a whole bunch of long stemmed red roses.  He saw a winner and he stuck with it, smart man.  This year, he did something even sweeter.

He bought me a thesaurus!

He was saying that he thought that flowers were a little too transient, that they wilted too quickly, so he gave me something that would last.  What I tell ya?  Smart man.  I mentioned to him a few weeks beforehand that I needed to get a better thesaurus, the papers Ive been writing for class were getting ridiculously repetitive.  There’s only so many ways to say the same thing for weeks at a time (woo lesson plans!).

Over the past week, I have incorporated the words “rigamarole” into a long ass bitch fest, “whiz-bang” to describe a morning at the intern site, “flummuxed” at least three times, “buffaloed” once, and have called James an “inveigler” on more than one occasion.  He in turn has decided to declare me a strumpet.  My favorite entry of all?  Making out.  Ahem.  We could use necking, petting, spooning, smooching, lollygagging, canoodling, playing kissy-face or kissy-kissy or kissy-poo or kissy-huggy or lickey-face or smacky-lips, pitching or flinging woo, sucking face, or swapping spit.  I particularly enjoy “flinging woo.”  Never heard that one before.

I got him the Firefly comic.  It wasnt amazing, but he liked it.

In other news, I have developed one hell of a case of TMJ.  Oh, the crappiness.  There’s no connection to the rest of this entry – although it would be cool to say I got TMJ from smacky-lipping – but I just thought Id mention it.  Im going to the doctor tomorrow, don’t worry.

As if you needed further proof that James is the best boyfriend ever, cause you don’t cause he is, he’s out on the town tonight with a whole bunch of friends.  A little backstory… James and I, we’re not that social.  Im usually holed up in the grad school purgatory that is my little study area and he’d much rather curl up with a book than go out somewhere and end up spending money on booze he’ll just pee out in a few hours.  Given our telephonic relationship, we spend most of our nights doin’ our thing (thang?) on the phone, talking for about two hours before we go to bed.

Tonight,  he has called me from the bar two times to check in, let me know how everybody was doing, let me know when he was planning on getting home.  Then he told me he loved me.  In a bar.  Surrounded by his friends.   He isn’t ashamed of it at all – he’s all about the lovin and I admire him for it.  I still have to resort to the “back at ya” response when Im in front of other people, I get too red-faced to be an adult about it.

He’s neato.

Im going to go wrap my face in a hot something or other, take some advil, find me a mouthgaurd and get the hell to bed.  One more day before the weekend one more day before the weekend…

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