Debbie Does Drivel

I love the word "defenestrate." It sounds so academic, yet all is means is to throw something out a window.
I want to defenstrate all the bad habits of '01 and replace them with healthy, happy, holistic habits for '02.
As Bridget Jones might say, my goal for the New Year is to "develop inner poise."
How the hell hard can that be?
Oops. People with inner poise probably wouldn't swear. Oh, sticky wicket then.

Goals for 2002:

--Do not fight with husband so much. Let the bastard win sometimes. (Please replace "bugger" for "bastard" in keeping with inner poise theme).
--Eat 3 servings of salmon a day as cold-water fish contains plenty of Omega-3 oils which are good for preventing nasty cancers, and developing a shiny head of hair and lubricated skin.
--Do yoga one, maybe two times a day.
Very good inner poise maker.
--Exercise every day when not doing yoga.
--Vitamins! Vitamins! Vitamins! Especially calcium for strong bones.
--Write a novel.
--And a screenplay.
--Make lots of fondue, as makes one feel like a good hostess. Use low-fat chocolate for dessert fondue.
--Read the classics.
--Develop taste for all kinds of music. Even the punk rock mumbo-jumbo.
--Donate time/money to good causes. Do not advertise fact have become philanthropic, as cancels out good deeds. Only the humble get into heaven!
--Go to church without ever once thinking it's boring. No! Not even once!
--Stop ingesting wheat, sugar, dairy products, and anything with caffeine.
--Do not speak an ill word of anyone. Even applies to stupid motorists.
--Stop complaining all the time, Debbie!
--Make a shopping list each Sunday night and buy all ingredients for a full week's worth of healthy, wholesome recipes. Prepare meals in advance without once cursing your hubby's name for not helping chop, grind, baste, mix, OR take out the garbage. Remember you love that bugger.
Also remember week's recipes must not contain wheat, dairy, sugar, et al.
--Enjoy a renewed sense of vigor due to undertaking the steps above.

Happy F

I'm starting the New Year off right so far!
Just got an e-mail from my aunt that said how you spend the second day of the New Year sets the tone for the rest of the year....SO, considering yesterday, when I went to the gym, grocery shopped, and cooked a nutritious meal for myself (Kev got a steak sandwich w/ blue cheese), I 'm off to a good start.
Thankfully, the first day of the New Year does not count, since that day, I was a non-contributing member of society as I sat around eating four different kinds of chocolate, two varieties of chips, and bread with dip (food improvisation). I also watched 12 hours of TV, including two episodes of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer."

Speaking of which, the writing on that show is brilliant. If you can write dialogue for Buffy where she says, "If Armageddon comes, beep me," and get away with it, you're a genius.

Where oh where did I get my fascination with spooky things? I love spooky movies (not slashers) no matter what form they take -- a Lifetime Television special, ABC Movie of the Week, box office duds...
I will see anything that looks remotely supernatural. Even if it's predictable, shallow, moronic...
The first time I remember liking spookiness is when I realized as a kid that I was addicted to Scooby Doo. I pretty much despised cartoons in general, but I loved my Scooby Doo. Then, I graduated to those '70s Christopher Lee vampire movies, which were vaguely orgy-like, I realize now. But that's another topic.
I know my mom spanked me a few times for sneaking downstairs and turning on the TV to watch one of these Dracula flicks...
I also clearly remember the previews for "The Shining" and after seeing Jack Nicholson hobble through the dark with an axe, I knew knew knew I had to see this movie. But it was rated R, so I waited patiently until it came out on TV (this was a L-O-N-G time) and again snuck to the living room to watch it...but was aced out by my sneaky mom hiding around the corner waiting to bust me (I should have appreciated this approach seeing as how I love people jumping out from behind dark corners).
Seems strange that so many of my memories revolve around these spooky shows...
(and food, but that's another topic).
Oh! And I totally recall the opening sequence for "Night Gallery." My babysitter in Denver was watching it and I remember getting so scared at the previews, I screamed. Then, there was that freaky dream scene from "Still of the Night" (circa 1981) where I got so caught up in the moment I threw both my legs up in the air and my moccasins went flying into the theater rows behind me.
I lived for spookiness. Sometimes I even tried to create it...like, at a 7th grade slumber party when I organized a seance and all us girls could SWEAR we saw the disembodied head of our Phonetics teacher Mrs. Symbioski (nice name for a Phonetics teacher) floating over Sheila Cunningham's fringed ceiling light.
Why this walk down memory lane?
I truly don't know...I just found it interesting how I could make a statement such as "I like spooky movies" and have it spark a flood of memory associations.
I'll close on this memory:
Once when we lived in Elk Grove, Ill...I had this dream about the "Banana Splits" cast (big overgrown stuffed animal things). I remember it totally clearly...right down to what our old house looked like. Anyway...my mom was in this dream and she was in her bedroom (there was a big black and red painting of a chess piece in there...not integral to the story...but points out how well I recall every detail, even to this day). I kept trying to talk to her, but she wouldn't talk to me. So, I wandered into our hall bathroom and saw her there, putting on make-up and she gave me a truly evil grin. Then, freaking out, I ran back to her bedroom and saw her there as well...
Knowing she couldn't be in two places at once, I realized something spooky was going on...
when, suddenly, the Banana Splits cast showed up and tried to get me out of the house, but Evil Mom was chasing us and one Banana Split tried to hide under the bed, but his fuzzy butt was too big and he was stuck there with all of us good guys behind him and we could hear Evil Mom coming after us...
Then, I woke up.
Well, this dream happened several years ago, in fact, I was in the 2nd grade...and many many years later, I was talking to a friend and I was telling her about this dream and she opened her eyes in astonishment, as she said...she'd had the EXACT same dream as a kid.

Ooooo, so Ffffffreaakkkyyyyyy...

Friday Night:
Went to the gym for a 5:30 aerobics class. The music system was broken so the tempo on the backbeats we were dancing to dictated we do about 342 steps/second. Not easy for someone just returning to the workout game. Came home, showered, went to see Ocean's 11 with Kev. Had brief hormonal fluctuation where I cried in Scholtzky's Deli when Kev didn't look at me at googly-eyed as I requested (we were on a date...googly eyes are a must).

Saturday:
Work up, did Power Yoga with Rodney Yee. Was distracted by Rodney's Yee, which was barely covered by a lycra patch. However, made it through Power Yoga, even though the tape advised women in my monthly condition NOT do the inverted backbend poses. Thought "why not?", discovered no good reason and did the inverted backbends. Hope did not twist my ovaries or anything.

Later, took delivery of new computer desk set-up. Went shopping at mall, bought two white shirts (dang on that "don't be boring" New Year's Resolution), went to Vons bought salad fixings, came home, made dinner, took delivery of friends Mike and Dee, ate dinner, went to Beachcomber to see friend perform with his band. Had conversation with one of Kevin's friends who thought it was funny to say "Don't Judge Me!" in a loud screech everytime I talked. On the way home, talked Kev into getting me a meter-long bean 'n cheese burrito (New Year's Resolutions' on hold certain Sundays).

Sunday:
Had breakfast with friend Lis (bacon, eggs, french toast) (Sunday New Year's dispensation), and talked for two hours after breakfast in the booth. She's my best friend.

Went home, had gastrointestinal problems (forgot to tell my system that I was ditching the healthy foods on Sundays), and put my computer desk together. Ate chocolate. Colored mandalas to stimulate spiritual awareness.

I'm a little embarrassed.
I had my car into the shop a few weeks ago. Sheen's Auto Care had the caddy for about four days. I know these people well, since I work next door to them and they work on my car often.
Well...
I've had the car back about a week now, and while driving yesterday, happened to glance into the back seat. Lying there, as it does most days, is this anxiety pamphlet a counselor gave me. One of the tasks she asked me to complete at the time she gave me the literature was to recall the last 33 years of my life and write down in 5-year blocks all the significant events during those times.
This I did. On a blank sheet of paper attached to the pamphlet. The same now non-blank sheet aligned face-up on my back seat.
Many things are on that sheet.
Like....well, you can probably imagine.
It's one thing to publicly record the events of my life on the Internet. It's another thing completely when your mechanic knows the first time you got your period.

There's no way I will believe that the guys who worked on my car did not read that thing. I probably would, too, if I saw "Years 1-5: Was Born. Got mad when my brother Dana came and took away all my attention. Hit David Murphy a lot" staring up at me from a piece of paper.

You see, everyone has their "thing" that usually they'll hide. In my case, I choose to be honest and verbal about my "thing," which is insecurity, anxiety, and an overactive imagination (apparently, I meant "things"), that can be a potent neurotic mix. And I like that I'm open about it. And it can bother people. And that's too bad. Maybe if you were honest about your "thing," it'd bother me too. (And don't try to pretend you don't have a "thing.") Maybe that is why you get scared. You read about my stuff and are forced to acknowledge you have your own stuff that you suppress, rather than bring forth.

Whatever! My point is that when I choose to be open about my mind minutae, I at least want to know I'm being open about it!
I wasn't prepared to be open about it two weeks ago at Sheen's Auto Care!
Yes, if Tom Sheen asked me about my irrational fear of death, you could bet a timing belt I'd tell him...BUT I want to be aware of my disclosures...not look in my back seat and have them bite me in the bumper!

I awoke yesterday morning to find BBQ sauce poured all over the SS Anderson. The morning before, red rock was showered all over the car. I am being targeted. But don't know why. I'm fairly certain it is our neighbors, who have about 1,200-1,300 people living with them. Many of these masses are high-school-age and I often hear them sneakily laughing late at night are they're being rambunctious as kids are wont to do.
So, I get a little PO'd. We've lived in peaceful harmony until now. I ignored the 1AM whinings of (one of the) teen-agers who stood on our curb crying and yelling "Maaaatt, Maaaaatttt, please don't leave me. Mmmmaaattt, please. Please, Mmmmaaattt". (SoundFX: Sniffle, sniffle. Car roaring off, girl wailing loudly, car pealing around the corner, girl shouting for him to stop).
And THEY ignored........well, they don't have to pretend not to notice much, since Kev and I are in our 30s, married, and low-talkers.
So, anyway, what I'm trying to say is we've been patient. And tolerant. And they shat all over that with BBQ sauce.

So, last night, I wrote a letter which I affixed to my car window. It said, "We Know Who You Are, Neighbor." And I also took our vacuum cleaner attachment that looks somewhat like a spycam and masking-taped it to my window visor, so they'd think they were bring filmed. Then, I slept in the guest room with the window open so I could hear any living thing that trespassed onto my vehicular property.

I heard lots of stuff. Some of it nefarious. Lots of shuffling around, lots of creeping, some whispering. But no BBQing.
Maybe tonight I'll put some baby back ribs on my roof and ask the neighbors to at least be productive while they're being sneaky.

I am so not kidding, I just saw ghostly stuff. Proof, I tell you!
A co-worker went to New Orleans, Seattle, and back to San Diego over the holidays, and while in both New Orleans and San Diego, she visited some notoriously haunted places. She and her sister took pictures in all three cities, so the haunted places pics were broken up by holiday pictures, New Year's snapshots, etc...and the thing is, ONLY the haunted places pictures have these weird lighty tracer things all over them. Her camera took every other picture fine, and the film developer inspected the film and found it to be OK...
soooo, what was the deal?
The roll went like this: San Diego b-day, Seattle Christmas at home, New Orleans haunted place, San Diego New Year's, San Diego haunted place. Only the haunted places pics turned out weird! Don't you find that funny? You REALLY have to see it.
In one (San Diego Whaley House), co-worker's sister took a pic of a wall supposedly bewitched. The wall was blank and empty. Then, she had her sister take a pic of her in front of the wall....
Well, when the pics were developed, the empty wall pic came back empty-wall looking...but the one with the girl in front of it had these weird light worms of all different colors squiggling around her.
Then, an exterior shot of the house in New Orleans (woman serial killer's residence), shows these different-looking thick light ribbons weaving through the pictures.
I'm so strangely excited, and newly scared of the dark all at the same time.

What I've had to eat today so far:

Breakfast:
smoked salmon slab

Snack #1:
yellow raisins

Snack #2:
BBQ Blast 3Ds

Hmmm....interesting insights into my psyche.
A little something fishy, a dash of sweet, some whimsy...

Ah, tonight, I will go out with the girls. We are watching "The Shows" and having apps and margaritas at my friend Lisa's place. Is that particularly girly? I don't know anymore. I DO know that my brother (I will name no names) plans some events I consider to be kind of girly in nature. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But when he mentioned the word "fondue" in association with New Year's, I thought perhaps the line had been crossed.
Well, not really. I like the fact that he enjoys things outside the box, so to speak. He takes pleasure in movies like "Amelie," and ALSO has fun drinking beer at a pub. Well-rounded. But we were talking about me.

I'm not sure if I can get into this evening. I don't know all the girls that well. Mainly just Lisa and my friend Teresa if she decides to go. The other gals are friends of Lisa's roommate. And, I've already pre-judged her roommate based on some stories I've been hearing (never returns calls, is flaky in all things, makes out with guys in bars at random, even when she had a serious boyfriend and her divorce was not yet final), so not sure I will enjoy her friends by association. But that is truly judgmental, huh? I've got a problem with that.

How to not be judgemental, if you already are? How to keep minds open? It's one thing to say you will keep an open mind, another to actually possess an open mind. Do I just erase the pre-conceived notions re: Lisa's roommate and start over with an empty slate? Is it that easy? I'll try. But, damnit, if the harlot doesn't make a good artichoke dip, a big scarlet "A" is going on her low-cut sweater.

Friday I stayed home and made progress in the "Mists of Avalon." Great book, but I'm unsure about some of its plot points and character motivations. Hope my book clubbers read the book and can discuss with me, but most of them merely saw the movie. I plan to put my foot down at the next meeting and force the girls to read more, drink less wine.

Saturday, went to Step, went to Coco's, and went to sell old clothes at thrift stores. Out of 608 items, they bought three totalling $11 in store credit. So I sell clothes and come back with more clothes.

Later, discuss evening's plans with Lisa with whom we are supposed to see Cowboy Mouth and Seven Nations. Turns out it's sold out, and her boyfriend wants to just sit at home instead of make alternate plans. This will be the second Saturday he's done this and Kev's peeved. He turned down the Aztecs game to go out with Lis and her boyfriend and now the boyfriend is being a pill. Quite selfish as Lisa always goes out with his friends, and he rarely, if ever returns the favor.

So, Kev and I go to the trendy Indigo Grill in Little Italy. This was a feat, since Kev does not believe in terms like "atmosphere," and "ambiance." We purchased our $10 drinks at the bar as we waited 20 minutes for the last 2-inch table on the patio. Turns out we had a great time, with interesting food (appetizer was grilled romaine with fig-jam flatbread; Kev also does not believe in calling common foods jacked-up names). And although Kev does not typically buy-in to having to "look a certain way" to eat at trendy restaurants he was concerned that his suede jacket was not 2-ply, but 1-ply, looking cheap and threadbare. After I assured him that this Christmas present from me was originally $275 (made-up amount) which ensures it had to be 2-ply, and I only got it for $29.99 in a major mark-down, he was visibly relieved, though a bit affronted that my present to him was 30 bucks.

We had a delightful time nonetheless and contrived to go to a karaoke bar afterwards with friends we hoped to set up. Karaoke bar was amusing (some HUGE musculary male behomoth about 60 years old took the stage amidst our predictions he'd sing some heavy-metal dirge and proceeded to warble "Purple Rain" like a nightingale. Later, when I complimented him on his performance and asked what he did for a living, he told me he "owned an empire.")

Sunday we went to breakfast (a la 2PM) with a friend of Kevin's, who then took me indoor rock climbing. This was hard and embarrasing, as had to wear a harness which criss-crossed my pelvis and as I was wearing tight work-out pants, it was like "Say Hi to my vagina everyone!" Then, "look at how this tight belt lifts and separates my fat so you see the important difference between butt fat, waist fat, and thigh fat!"
Then, when rock climbing was not near as easy as it looked, I swung from same harness halfway up the wall, causing it too feel like I had jumped on a bike from the top of a cliff.
Afterwards, Roxanne took me to some stairs by her house and suggested we run up them. A lot. I coulda died.

Then, we watched the Golden Globes.

Last night, I woke up feeling out of sorts. I took my temperature and it read 93.9. Does this mean I'm dead? That would explain a lot.

OK God. I promise that if my recent excessively bloated stomach deflates back to normal, I will never, ever, ask another person if I am fat. Because now I really am fat, and if I could just get this little stomach-deflato favor, I'll be happy with what I have.

In the last month, my waist size has increased two inches (I know, b/c I measure myself a lot. It's one of those Debbie things) and I have gained seven pounds.
FOR NO REASON.

My pants do not fit and I have taken to wearing long shirts, and even then, the dastardly thing pokes out and belies my largesse.

I finally got tired of it all. It's uncomfortable. The newly distributed and expanding flesh has surely displaced important organs like the liver AND I'm really crabby, probably due to bile buildup.

I went to the doctor. I needed to as this is a sudden and unusual flab onset.

After much external/internal poking around, she concluded that my Pill is causing my bloatation.

Please, please let it be so. I'd rather change my prescription than my outlook on life. I'm used to seeing the world through the eyes of an untoned, needs-to-lose-10-pounds gal...I don't think at my age I should be expected to make the transition to a person who actually needs to diet AND exercise.