I was at the pharmacy today and I noticed the latest edition of Instyle Weddings and my initial thought was, "Oh, I should pick that up for Engaged Friend." And then this little voice in the back of my head said, "And you'll read it before you give it to her." I wasn't shocked by this little voice because I've seen many wedding magazines that I've wanted to purchase for EF but I just haven't had the guts to buy them before because I knew she'd see right through my little lie.

But this time was different.

Don't get me wrong, I'm really very happy with Nicky the Fish. But I am in no way, shape or form ready to take on the responsibilities of marriage. But for some reason I just LOVE looking at wedding magazines. I don't know if it's just my obsession with magazines in general or whether I just really like weddings (actually, completely nix that last comment I don't have any love for a wedding). So, I really just don't know what my problem is.

But back to standing in front of the magazine display at the pharmacy. I knew that an older, gossipy co-worker was in the store at the same time so I milled around the magazines for longer than I should have pretending to be interested in the Muscle Man magazine (there really isn't a huge selection). I knew that she would see me, with cat like voracity, pick up that magazine and within minutes the whole office would be abuzz about my obvious engagement. I couldn't allow that to happen. So when I saw she'd left the store I picked it up and slipped into line hoping no one else I knew would waltz into the store, namely my boyfriend who works across the street, or anyone else for that matter. I've decided to that I need to start taking my addiction to the back streets of town, where no one I know will see me and I can live with my "habit" in secret. Because when you live on a small Island, news travels fast. At lightening speed.

So now I have the magazine. It's sitting on my desk, burning a hole through the bag just begging to be seen by a nosy co-worker or an equally nosy mother (I'll have to hide it under my mattress like porn until I'm done with it). I'll sneak it out late at night when no one is around and ohhh and ahhh at all the pretty, white dresses, which I refuse to ever wear one day, and I'll learn how to design my own invitations and it will be great. A secret, guilty pleasure.....

I had a rotten experience today when I went to lunch and was served a tuna salad sandwich rather than the chicken salad sandwich I had actually ordered.

Not only did it leave a horrible taste in my mouth for the rest of my lunch (and made me feel like I was going to be sick) but it launched me right back to nursery school where they used to force me to eat tuna fish sandwiches as well as egg salad sandwiches. I still to this day can't bring myself to eat either sandwich. Don't get me wrong, I love both tuna and egg, just not mashed up with tons of mayonnaise. Because Nicky the Fish sure does know how to cook up a mean slab of tuna and come to think of it, he also makes one of the best damn egg breakfasts I've ever had.

But that said, there's something so foul about trying to stomach something I used to be forced to eat when I was a kid. I've gotten over some of my food fears, like corn for example. My aunt used to make me eat it even though I gagged on several occasions at her dinner table when I was 6 (I know, I was a brat). But now it's one of my favourite foods.

As for tuna sandwiches and egg sandwiches, that just reminds me of pink gingham nap time covers, terry cloth bathing shorts (we all had to wear them in the "wading" pool), shared bathrooms (the boys peed into a long tub like urinal while the girls sat on potties directly behind them), the smell of cheap bleach, coloured milk (I guess milk in a rainbow of hues makes kids drink it. I was confused when I realised it doesn't always come that way), singing "The Poochie Lip Will Get You", my Bank of Bermuda pencil case that contained my Care Bear hair brush and comb, and, of course, hoping that the next sandwich on the lunch time tray would be peanut butter and jelly and not egg or tuna fish.

Yech.

How to keep tourists coming back:

Setting: Rain is coming down hard. In sheets. Torrents. Everyone is soaking wet.

Nice, old Bermudian man: (said in passing like every nice, old Bermudian men) Good day!

Tourist, an old lady: Next time, I'm going somewhere with no rain and no water.

Nice, old Bermudian man: Why don't you go to hell then?

Good one, good one!

Why is it that everyone on this Island must converge on the city the day before every holiday?
I know that the thought of codfish cakes and hotcross buns could send anyone into a frenzy but can these people ever learn to plan? There will be enough for everyone people! I think we could be the perfect example of what happens when someone yells FIRE in a crowded theatre, except we have the foresight and were warned. We all know when Good Friday occurs or any other holiday for that matter but still we insist on driving the rest of the sane, organised world crazy. I just wanted to buy myself a magazine today and stupidly thought I could take a leisurely stroll into town but no, I have to be subjected to every 14-year-old on the Island trying to prove they can put together the most perfect outfit on their spring break and the bitchy ladies pushing past me to get to the store door first or the crazy driver who magically forgot (because it's the day before a holiday, of course) that red means stop and green means go. It would be nice if everyone could just calm down for a minute and take a deep breath. It'll be all right.

Don't you love it when your boyfriend and his friend are drunk asses and you kick them out of your house at 7.15 on a Saturday night, 15 minutes before you all are supposed to be attending said drunk-ass friend's new girlfriend's party and you can't even fathom thinking about taking these two dumbasses to said party because for one thing your boyfriend's shirt has been ripped by said friend and neither of them can stand or speak straight? So you call said friend's new girlfriend and she invites you out anyway and is still totally cool even though new boyfriend is now wandering the streets with your boyfriend with the ripped shirt (like the blind leading the blind). And so the two of you live it up, mentioning maybe once what creeps both of your boyfriends are, and instead have the greatest night possible! Pay back's a bitch, baby!

BTW: You rock April!

As promised:

I love when I get that spark of energy where I feel like I can accomplish everything I need to do. That happened yesterday and I was able to check off a good deal of things that I've been meaning to get done. The day before I thought my life was crumbling around me and that I would never find the energy to do just about anything. But yesterday I:

1. Made an appointment for my bike to be inspected
2. Did some shopping around for the best auto cycle insurance policies
3. Booked my flight to Argentina!
4. Did two loads of laundry- and folded the stuff my mom had in the dryer
5. Downloaded information for a freelance project I'm working on (that is until my computer started acting up)

It doesn't seem like much but it's all very important (especially since I hadn't done laundry in a while!). Now all I need to figure out is how I'm going to save money! And hope that this super-charged energy buzz NEVER goes away.

I realised, sadly, the other day that I've been living way above my means since I graduated from college.

The worst part is that Nicky the Fish has a great job, makes more money than I'll ever know (and he's only two years older than me) and he's happy. Even though he didn't study a lick of what he's doing now when he was in university his job still fulfills him everyday.

I always told myself that I would take being happy with my job over making butt loads of money any day but it really has hit me hard that I need to start working on my spending habits. Living from check to check is not smart and I find myself buying the most frivolous of things. Plus, I try to keep up with everyone else and have this desperate need to please everyone and I end up spending like it's no one's business.

So, in order to be proactive I must have goals, right?

• First, I will keep a log of my spending
• Second, I will save my money for Argentina
• Third, I will not try to please anyone but myself.

Now all I need to do is master the art of a spread sheet (why don't they teach that to writers?) and I'm on my way!

I'm home sick today and so I didn't feel guilty at all this morning checking out people's blogs (not on company time) and finding new and interesting blogs to keep me "busy" at work when I get back. That's until Gus came along:



He crawled on top of the desk from the nearby couch to get my attention. Apparently, I don't pay enough attention to him! But he says:



"I like this blog too!"
Crazy dog.

I'm so mad at Blogger right now! This is the third time I've tried to post my battle for the week and now I'm here, cutting into my favourite night of television (CBS), to write my post. But at least it shows that I'm dedicated :-)

So, to make a long story short. Today I listened to The Very Best of Cat Stevens for the first time. Loved it. Glad I know now who sings the ORIGINAL "The First Cut is the Deepest" because I can't stand the whiney Sheryl Crow version. Point of my battle: Old school rocks! If you can't take a cool, old school song and make it your own, a la Tori Amos, then you're only trying to make a Top 40 hit and I don't like you. I had to mention Tori in this post because it's about music and I just want to remind myself about how fabulous of a musician she is. My reason for loving her experimentation with other people's songs is due to my love of her Strange Little Girls album. It came out a few years ago and it's a whole album filled with songs formerly sung by men. There are some interesting and beautiful versions of some great songs on the album. But the point is Tori rocks! And so do all the other fabulous musicians who put their own stamp on every song they sing.

Ok, ok, I have to post the Snoop Dog inspired link Gizzoogle sent to me by a friend because it's worth a laugh and because this article, translated by the Snoop Dog journalists at the site, makes politics so much more interesting. Said friend almost peed her pants after reading her fo' shizzled story.

The best part is that you can translate any web page into fo' shizzle speak and no matter what you will laugh. But I have to admit, this is best done with stories about people who take themselves to seriously i.e. politicians.

As an extension of the last post I'd like to introduce one of my links to those in need of guilt riddance. If you need to get that nasty confession off your chest in full confidence of being anonymous, check out GroupHug. Even if you don't feel you can even tell a computer your strangest secrets, reading the blog-style comments can make the shiest weirdos feel good about themselves. Enjoy the freedom of anonymity.

..delete all horrible e-mails like this:

Subject: Fwd: IF YOU DELETE THIS U SERIOUSLY DON'T HAVE A HEART!!!!!!!!!!!
HI I AM A 29 YEAR OLD FATHER. ME AND MY WIFE HAVE HAD A WONDERFUL LIFE TOGETHER. GOD BLESSED US WITH A CHILD TOO. OUR DAUGHTER'S NAME IS
RACHEL, AND SHE IS 10 YEARS OLD.
NOT LONG AGO DID THE DOCTORS DETECT
BRAIN CANCER IN HER LITTLE BODY.
THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY TO SAVE
HER......AN OPERATION, SADLY, WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH
MONEY TO PAY THE PRICE. AOL AND ZDNET HAVE AGREED TO HELP US. THE ONLY WAY
THEY CAN HELP US IS THIS WAY, I SEND THIS EMAIL TO YOU AND YOU SEND IT TO
OTHER PEOPLE AOL WILL TRACK THIS EMAIL AND COUNT HOW MANY PEOPLE GET IT. EVERY PERSON THAT OPENS THIS EMAIL AND SENDS IT TO AT LEAST 3 PEOPLE WILL GIVE US 32 CENTS.
PLEASE HELP US.
GEORGE ARLINGTON.

I mean, I feel bad enough when I can't help every poor soul out there but these e-mails just keep getting more and more ridiculous. Especially when you realise that the e-mails and requests are all fakes and just concocted by some mindless drivel who has nothing else better to do with their day. Read here to see how this e-mail was debunked and here to read Urban Legend vs. Spam to see why I care so much.

Also, this is St. Baldricks, a real story from a real person on the Island who is really going to shave her head for her daughter and really get donations. (I know I used a lot of reallys in that sentence but I want to make sure to drive home the point between real stories and unreal fascinations by bored computer geeks!)

Preparing for battle

This a photograph of my friend during his fight on Saturday night. Such a great picture shot by one of our staff photographers. I don't think I have to say much more about it then that.

(ed.note Had to change the picture to a link because it was too wide. Still worth a look though.)

This is how I feel through the drawings of Edward Monkton. May he continue to inspire.



But that's ok because there are funnier things then me in this world:



And every now and again we just need some good advice:

This is a very disturbing story but I don't think this couple is going to be advocating to have their chimp back after one of his chimp friends tried to bite off one of the man's testicles! Lesson learned, I'd say!

I almost forgot to post my battle of the week today. But I have the perfect battle this week. Dog vs. dog, in a good way of course. The man that I spend copious amounts of time with is very competitive. We'll name him Nicky the Fish (this explanation can wait for a later post). Nicky the Fish always thinks his gorgeous Rottweiler, Primrose, is cuter than my equally gorgeous Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Gus. Obviously, I have no doubt that both are wonderful because I allow myself to have many favourite dogs (Kasey and Murphy top my list, too). To set this fair and square I'm posting a picture of two of my favourite dogs and regardless of what Nicky the Fish thinks, they're both scrumptious!

My man's other girl!

VS.

My sweet!

Poor Bubba, he didn't even have a chance:

PITTSBURGH - He dodged lobster pots for decades, endured a trip from the coast
of Massachusetts to Pittsburgh and survived about a week in a fish market. But a
trip to the zoo proved to be too much for a 22-pound lobster named
Bubba.

The leviathan of a lobster died Wednesday afternoon at the Pittsburgh Zoo & PPG
Aquarium about a day after he was moved from Wholey's Market, said zoo
spokeswoman Rachel Capp and Bob Wholey, owner of the fish market.

Why is it that women seem to think it's cool to leech on to the next big trend regardless of whether it flatters them or not? I'm a big fan of keeping up to date on my fashion trends (I wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of tapered jeans), but I also acknowledge the fact that ultra low rise jeans don't flatter people with excessive love handles (I'm proud of them, ok). So why on earth would women with large backsides feel the necessity to sport cropped pants in flimsy materials that accentuate every ripple and bulge their enormous butt has to offer (when I get the guts to take a picture of one of these lovely ladies, I promise this will be the first place I will post it). Lately, I've seen women courageously stepping out in butt-eating pants that are not only unsightly from the back but also the front (hello! has no one ever teased you about camel toe???). The flimsy cotton culotte style does nothing for the thighs either, ladies. I'm not trying to be catty but I think people need to learn to use the mirror (from all angles) more often.

Being the daughter of parents who run a seafood restaurant but a person who dislikes the taste of many shellfish I thought this great little story about this ole time lobster was too good of a story to pass up. Plus, I love the fact that they dubbed him "Bubba". So cute.

It's amazing that Martha Stewart's been in the lock-up for five months! But hopefully she'll take this advice...I'll keep it around just in case I need it someday.