messy random waves

If you need water, I'll be your river. - Cyndi Lauper

Here's a tip: If you've consumed a half bottle of wine, do not mess w/ that hang nail on your finger. It will bleed, and bleed and bleed. Not pretty. Might want to wait till your blood has thickened up again.

I'm a people observer. I love to watch people and try to soak up all their unspoken thoughts and assign them feelings based on their actions. It's a gift really. Oh frell, what do I know? I'm just blabbering some stupid shit here.

I went out to dinner with the parents on Friday. We like to frequent this local chinese buffet. Mmmm. Love the chinese food. There's this little chinese guy, Carl, that runs the joint. He's probably around my age somewhere. He's a nice guy. Friendly. He loves my parents. He loves it even more when I'm with my parents. He oogled me Friday. He looked me up and down. Not kidding. My dad even saw it and started calling me Carol Chen. Not that we're racist or mean to be derogatory...my dad knew how uncomfotable I was and just found it funny that little chinese Carl at the chinese buffet obviously was "checking me out" hard core. I'm sure Carl is a nice man. He's friendly...his eyes are very friendly. He's got a good thing going on with his buffet w/ moo shoo pork. Carl's just not my type and I'm afraid I can't ever go back to the chinese buffet. Maybe I'll move on to the Indian restaurant. I feel fairly un-oogled there. Or the Mexican restaurant, Juan at least has a great smile and he's never oogled me. That I know of. He has said a few things in spanish that I'm not entirely sure about...hmmm. I'm totally kidding here. This is my alter ego talking, just ignore her. I'm really not a ho in the international community of restaurants. Well mostly I'm kidding, I really don't think I can go back to the chinese buffet. I prefer my egg rolls w/ a side of lo mein, no lo-oogle.

I was waiting in the car outside the local Wal-Mart the other day. I try to stay away from the local Wal-Mart as much as possible. It always seems that I feel the need to look down every isle for people I might not want to see before stepping foot in the isle. It's a small town...did I mention I'm trying to get out? Not that I'm running from anything. I don't have any regrets and I've never done much of anything stupid that would make me look bad. It's just the fact that this is the Mid-West and there are a lot of closed minded people who like to know every little detail about your private life. If they want to know that...they can just visit my journal site huh.

Man, my alter ego is kicking ass and taking names today...whew...someone get her a drink.

Anyways...there was a point to this...Sitting outside Wal-Mart, I spotted this woman who jumped out of her car and met a man in the middle of the parking lot. She said something cheesy like "Do you come here often" then they smiled deeply, grabbed hands and the guy started swinging hands back and forth. It was adorable. I think I actually said, "Awww" out loud. They were happy and adored each other and that was so nice to see. Of course after entering Wal-Mart, I'll bet money that he went to either the sporting goods or automotive while she picked up her tampons and toilet bowl cleaner. But HEY! Whatever works right.

This morning I saw a note on the kitchen counter. A note from my dad to my mom. Evidentally she had sent him on an errand after his work shift to pick up chocolate chips and some other goodies so she could make cookies...Well, the poor guy couldn't find the chocolate chips but he didn't come home empty handed. He substituted m&m's. Smart man. And not only that...this note on the counter was actually a lovely little poem about how he looked hard for chocolate chips and hoped she'd accept his m&m's instead. It was cute. It was very sweet. There's no possible way she could be disappointed w/ m&m's. That's my dad. He's a truly great man he is. Such a romantic. I'm sure that's where I get my hopeless romantisism.

Let me digress here...I once got a note from the STBX. It was when I was in college. We hardly ever saw each other. He worked second shift. I went to school all day (9a-9p) and worked weekends. I was having a really stressful time juggling two kids, a marriage, a mortgage, a job and a hope for a degree. He must have sensed something wrong because I came home one day to a carnation and a home-made card that said something about how he knows he didn't always show his support and affection but that he truly loved me. I broke down in tears. I really needed that card. I kept that card for years. I referred to it often. I clung to it. I don't even know where it is now. It doesn't matter now. But kudos for him and kudos for me for remembering something nice.

So, Twenty days until my birthday party. Who's coming? I think I finally talked my friends out of going to the stip club. Pla-Leeze...that was so like 25th birthday. I'm a person that has to have a nostalgic T-shirt for a major occasion. I have high hopes that this party will also be my divorce party. So the shirt...on one side..."spank me it's my birthday" and on the other side "I just dropped 150lbs. of ass. His name was Eric." I know...how do I do it? From one random wave of nostalgic bliss to another random wave of cruel intentions. It's all good.

But, no, seriously...who's coming to the party? Oh, okay then. Fine. I understand. No one really wants to come to the Mid-West mid February and celebrate with someone they've never met and who calls herself "Tiny Dancer." It's okay. I get it. Long distance support only. Wussy.