BFF

So let me start this blog by saying I had a great weekend, that promptly ended on Sunday when I saw the e-mail from co-worker Ruben that informed me of the rough week ahead. Yea, always a good thing to see!

So to say the least, I'll be writing this blog in between splitting columns in the REVIT model. I'm drafting at least, a task I enjoy. Also, having known this week was going to be long, I chose to wear jeans today, so shove that in your pipe and smoke it Corporate America! I also asked to postpone my guest speaker/teacher gig. I was supposed to teach at SIUE on Tuesday about sustainability to the senior design class. With this impending deadline that I still don't think is feasible, I need all the time I can get. Why am I blogging then, oh right, my therapy because if I don't get this all out, I will literally explode and spew guts, blood, and diet pepsi in every direction.

So I'll rewind and tell you all about Mardi Gras. For those of you that are unaware, St. Louis Mardi Gras is the second largest MG celebration in the US, second only of course to New Orleans. That being said, I threw on the long johns, two pair of socks, hefty boots, and my coat; and brave the cold with some friends and my sister. Good old Tim organized the whole ordeal and got a bus! We piled on after tying on a few at the Pub, headed west and got dropped off into the freezing wind and crowded streets of Soulard!

Once there, we promptly found our heated tent at Joanies's Pizza. I danced a lot, shouted a lot, and drank a lot of hurricanes. It was a great time. Holly and I walked around a bit. We even saw her friend's band play, and they rocked! Before the day was over, I had a scary guy give me beads and want to dance with me, and I was ever so thankful my sister stepped in to save me. There was another fella who claimed he was waiting all day to dance with me, that was nice of him. I left though, without even saying good bye because I was being called to grab Shawna, my new BFF and dancing buddy, to go to the bus!

So that was the weekend! Today though has been rough, like a shaken soda can waiting to be opened. I don't think there are enough tears for me today. It's one of those, "I'm going to throw up" sort of days. I'm at the point of just giving up, so I'm not even going to write anymore.

Here are you words:
geotard: A person who is incapable of figuring out how to get from point A to B without instructions like "turn at the pretty blue house", does not know which direction in north, and/or points in the wrong direction when talking about a place. Combination of geography and retard.

nice ups: A way of throwing props to some one, saying thank you, or showing respect. Similar to Big Ups.

Sweet Jeff Tweedy

I was going to write about one of the following: the apocalypse (and my preparedness), Mardi Gras, Teaching at SIUE, or guitars (redemption song and crazy little thing called love). Perhaps I will since I just started writing this today, and since I am really bustin' a move to get a shop drawing submittal out, I will randomly write parts of my blog when I need a break from my yellow hi-liter and red pen. Drew, you recall those days of transferring redmarks for me? Yea, well, I don't have to transfer those marks anymore, I make them once and get my copies scanned these days. It's really a sweet deal going green and all. Anyway, so back to what I was saying, I don't know what I'll get time to write about, it's sort of a crap shoot. For those readers unfamiliar with a 'crap shoot', it refers to a dice game called Craps, where everything is random and based on chance. I know this because my Urban Dictionary from which I give you the word of the day has a website where you can look up such things as crap shoot!

So I did at least want to talk about music for a brief (or rather not so brief) moment. I wanted to say that I really want to go to both Bonnaroo and the NO Jazz Fest this year. Now I have to admit that I really am NOT, let me specify NOT a fan of either. Let me elaborate. Bonnaroo is a smelly music festival for hippies and hordes of unbathed men who travelled in a shoddy van for hundreds of miles to great Tennessee where scary things are bound to happen. I am neither a hippie (another blog, another day), nor a smelly man from a scary horde! The NOJF takes place in possibly one of the smelliest cities in the world, New Orleans. I like it there, it's nostalgic and architecturally rich, and even a little spooky, but ungodly smelly. Not to mention that I think Jazz is A.D.H.D. for music. I love just random odd stuff, but sometimes Jazz is hard to listen to, nothing to follow, no organization, no structure. Jazz that HAS structure is great, without it, oh, my brain spins in all directions trying to make sense of the world! Anyway, now you know how I feel about these festivals, and you are wondering, "if you dislike them so much, why do you want to go"? Let me tell you some people that are playing: Beastie Boys, NIN, WILCO, Elvis Costello, Bela Fleck, Ben Harper, Coheed and Cambria, and Robyn Hitchcock. THAT is just Bonnaroo! Now I would travel a ridiculous length for Wilco, Robyn H. and Elvis C. Seriously I can't say that enough! The others would just be perks so to speak, but damn, Wilco, oh sweet Jeff Tweedy! I just can't say that enough, do you believe me yet? Okay so NOJF: Joe Cocker, DB-Truckers, Wilco, Etta James, B.t Ezra, and enough Zydeco to drive a person batty! Did you see Wilco in that list? I thought you did, do I need to say o' sweet Jeff Tweedy again?? Ok, oh sweet Jeff Tweedy! So there, now you know my over-exhilaration for Wilco and Jeff Tweedy.

So back to the fest's. I won't be going to either of these. Another year perhaps? Anyway, you might be wondering what brought this on, well, I have my Zune on shuffle, and Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah came to play. If you've never heard it, you should, I'll even let you borrow my headphones. Close your eyes, listen to the breath he takes at the very beginning, listen to the strain in his voice, and the lack thereof as well. Listen to the guitar. I don't even know who plays the guitar in this song, but it's heavenly, if such a word can be used to describe it! Oh sweet Jeff Buckley! He unfortunately died because he was stupid enough to step into the Mighty Mississippi and drowned. But I was thinking what a treat it would have been to see and hear him live. I don't want to miss those chances with other musicians such as Wilco.

So that should have been much shorter but I got on a tangent. So I will save my topics, (the apocalypse (and my preparedness), Mardi Gras, Teaching at SIUE, guitars (redemption song and crazy little thing called love), and now hippies) for another day and another blog!

Here's to wishing Rachel yet another 'get well soon'. Shane, stay out of the hospital unless it is of course absolutely necessary. Drew, stop worrying about the piggies. Go out and blog!

Here's the word of the day:
Leave Britney Alone: An exclamation made when your friends or family are teasing you to a point where you can't handle it anymore and a hissy fit is in order. Derived from a YouTube user's famed outburst following Britney's lackluster performance at the 2007 VMA's.

In use:
Chic 1: OMG Susan, I can't believe you wore that skirt two days in a row, and everyone knows what you did with Kevin. And, you are looking a little fat today!
Chic 2: LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE

Dead Version of Him

So this morning, as I wait for others to get to the office, I will write my daily blog. The problem with getting to work early is that often when things need to be done by others, I must wait. Anyway, so I had a lot of thoughts about what I wanted to write about today, so in my most awful penmanship, I jotted them down.

For starters, when I walked in today, I had to weave through a massive crowd of athletes all waiting to climb the stairs of my building. Here at Met. Square, is this crazy thing called, Master the Met, where individuals climb the stairs to the 42nd floor. Yea, I briefly thought about doing it, but when exercise without the stair climbing makes my knee swell to the size of a cantaloupe, I think maybe I should avoid this obstacle in life! So to the elevators I go, "Elevator going up"!

So speaking of hellish things like stair climbing, last night I had some nightmares. Actually two nightmares, but the same one twice (if that made sense). The basic premise of the dream is that my father killed my grandparents, chopped up their bodies and put them in a clear plastic trash bag stuffed in a closet in the basement of my house. Well in my dream the house that was "mine", was actually my family's (we're a happy family; me, mom, and dad) but actually took place in what is today my grandfather's house. In the dream, the guy who was my father was the dead version of him, the guy from the casket anyway. My mom was herself, but young like in her photos. My older brother and I were as we are today, but my younger brother was small, like 3 or 4, when I used to take care of him in those family crises that meant my older brother and I would sneak, with baby brother to the car (sweet Nova), get into the back seat, slink down real low and hide! Anyway, that's a whole different nightmare I called reality that doesn't get discussed; so in the dream, I find out that my father did this and I have to get my brothers out of the house so they don't find out. Well I don't know how the dream ended in this version, but the smell was very real, and awful. I cried a lot in this version of the dream, imagine that, I cry a lot all the time! In the second version, the basic same thing happened, but I had to tell my mom what happened and show her the body parts. I had to sneak us out of the house, I had to get clothes for everyone, I had to get our valuables. At the end, before calmly walking out the door, I told my dad not to take all of this personally, that he would always be my daddy, no matter how old I was. I got in my car with family and things in tow and started to drive off when my older brother jumped out of the car to get, of all things, the hose! By this point we were fleeing for our lives so I had to run out and help him as fast as I could and I was falling and trying to move without being able to do so. I was wakened by my alarm, so I'll never know how that dream ends, thankfully.

Since I woke up with what felt like little sleep because of nightmares, I got dressed half asleep. What was I thinking, red and white striped socks with pink and gray plaid loafers. Really what was I thinking??!!??!! Anyway in addition to my "getting ready soap box", I realized as I brushed my teeth, that I will be a really overburdening mother. I'll always be saying things like "stand up straight", "tie your shoes", "eat your food", "take your medicine", "stop slouching", "squeeze the toothpaste from the end of the tube", "pull the shower curtain out to dry", "clean up your mess", "wipe up your crumbs" . . . . etc. That could a really frightening thing to do to another human being. Poor children! Speaking of moms and children, I'd like to wish my preggo friend Rachel a speedy recovery. Such an enigma she is indeed!

Okay, so I've written a lot already, so I'll save the following topics for another day this week, the apocalypse (and my preparedness), Mardi Gras, Teaching at SIUE, and guitars (redemption song and crazy little thing called love).

I'd like to give you the word of the day and finish this with a tiny list of small things that make me happy.

tramp stamp: A tattoo above a woman's ass crack. In use: Her pants were so low cut, you could see her tramp stamp

A few of my favorite things:
-The sound of a guitar, more specifically when you can hear the finger glide along the strings of a guitar.
-Lyrics, especially the kind that mean something to you
-Being so sleepy that there is no lying awake thinking and staring
-The way Listerine kills germs, and anything inside the mouth, I'm amazed I still have a tongue!
-My favorite T-shirt, the Airstream T-shirt!