<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768</id><updated>2009-02-20T20:26:39.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Diva Diaries</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>133</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-4434122466550346222</id><published>2007-02-22T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T15:22:30.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>not a martyr</title><content type='html'>I know the following rant is going to sound totally self-righteous but I need to preface it by saying I am an earnest person. Despite my diva tendencies, I pride myself on a job well done and I behave very ethically in a profession littered with questionable characters. I hate the rampant incompetence I encounter on a daily basis in my current position. However, what truly boils my blood is knowing that no matter where I work, I'll encounter the same or worse. And it is just depressing. Life really isn't fair. Like, seriously, what is the point? I'm losing my sanity comparing my efforts to others, but I am not the type of person who can perform half-ass and feel satisfied with myself. I just can't. And this is just looking at the situation within the scope of my career. Considering the rest of the world, my colleagues are at least gainfully employed. I can't even express how much it infuriates me that I basically slave away while so many people languish around doing nothing productive with their lives, contributing nothing to society, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I feel guilty, because there are a lot of people who have it much worse and don't deserve it. So it is like a pendulum between rage and hopelessness. I feel the physical effects of the stress I'm under and realize I need to find an outlet (in addition to this) because otherwise I'll end up no better than the people I disdain. I wish there were an easy solution. But there isn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-4434122466550346222?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/4434122466550346222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=4434122466550346222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/4434122466550346222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/4434122466550346222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2007/02/not-martyr.html' title='not a martyr'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-117063323213536859</id><published>2007-02-04T15:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T15:53:52.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>older and wiser</title><content type='html'>I'm not the first to say this, but remember when you were little and loved birthdays? And you would even count out fractions of your age, like, I'm seven and three-quarters? And you'd be so excited about bringing cupcakes to school and/or having a party? Then as time marches on, you realize how depressing life can be, and it is made all the more depressing by how short it is...and you kinda keep a low-pro about the amount of years you're celebrating? And your present to yourself may or may not be focused on maintaining your youth? Um, yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The usual sunny weather has been totally blah lately so now I totally understand how people up north suffer from seasonal affective disorder. I wasn't motivated to do laundry for weeks or clean the kitchen...finally the piles got so bad my better half actually stepped in and started doing chores...big shocker considering he wouldn't notice if our floors were caked with dirt and crawling with roaches normally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold, wet weather also allows good habits to fall by the wayside. What is the point of pedicures when you wear socks and close-toed shoes everyday? Hair styling is kind of pointless. Personal grooming is unnecessary when you wear pants daily and flannel pajamas at night. Skipping workouts in favor of hibernating is ok. Eating junk because it isn't bathing suit season yet is ok, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, January kind of sucked, so I have high hopes for this month. I need to get back on track. No more lazing around. After all, each day could be my last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-117063323213536859?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/117063323213536859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=117063323213536859' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/117063323213536859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/117063323213536859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2007/02/older-and-wiser.html' title='older and wiser'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-116827697268348254</id><published>2007-01-08T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T09:22:52.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>how evil are you?</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#CCCCCC" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 78% Evil&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#DDDDDD"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/evil-4.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are very evil. And you're too evil to care.&lt;br /&gt;Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/"&gt;How Evil Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-116827697268348254?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/116827697268348254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=116827697268348254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116827697268348254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116827697268348254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2007/01/how-evil-are-you.html' title='how evil are you?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-116715375378600933</id><published>2006-12-26T09:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T09:22:33.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>feliz navidad</title><content type='html'>So you've had a happy Chrismakwanzmahanukah. Don't feel blue it is over, the best is yet to come! The year end sales are my favorite part of the season. I arrived at the mall by 8am, hit up Starbucks, then cruised over to Tuesday Morning and Marshall's. I'm going to devote some of the caffeine buzz time toward straightening the house, but then if I'm still going strong, I plan on braving Target. :) I've already purchased some gifts for people for next year, so I'm in good shape and don't feel too greedy. I did some online shopping, too. Those fuckers at J Crew won't allow price adjustments, so I made a second order at 25% off and will be trotting my happy ass back to the store with the first order I made before their better discount was available. I'll fix them! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I have the dreaded annual lady doctor appointment, but after that I plan on making up for it with fun activities. I have a hair appointment and intend to eat lunch at a restaurant I absolutely adore. :) I'll also probably get a mani/pedi while I'm out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woo hoo. Time to go eat some leftovers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-116715375378600933?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/116715375378600933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=116715375378600933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116715375378600933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116715375378600933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/12/feliz-navidad.html' title='feliz navidad'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-116519761126856047</id><published>2006-12-03T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-03T18:00:11.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>satori</title><content type='html'>I've had some ah-ha moments lately. Feng shui is no joke. My blocked chi has led to some serious issues in my life. I had been putting off really cleaning my closet for ages. I just kind of pile the clothes on my shelves or cram more hangers in. I stopped leaving my shoes in boxes and just sort of heap them on top of each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've paid for letting the clutter accumulate. A burst pipe has caused severe damage to my sanctuary, and some of my possessions. Everything smells mildewy and I had to throw out a bunch of clothing and shoes because they were covered in mold. I'm totally grossed out by this. I'm also bummed out because some were things I truly liked but are just not salvageable. I love my belongings but I just don't have enough space to neatly store it all. I don't know whether renting a unit to keep it in is the answer, either, because I really ought to get away from placing so much value on material things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the petri dish that used to be my master suite kind of explains why I've felt so sick and blah lately. I just hope I haven't contracted some kind of crazy sickness from unwittingly breathing in such filth for god knows how long. And I've been wearing clothing and shoes that brushed against it...ick. I don't even know what sort of doctor I should go see to get checked out to make sure I'm ok. Maybe start with a shrink? LoL. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this has been a huge wakeup call for me...I need to get my priorites straight. Go back to my roots of obsessively organizing...get back in control, not passively let negative things fester.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-116519761126856047?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/116519761126856047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=116519761126856047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116519761126856047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116519761126856047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/12/satori.html' title='satori'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-116449215364317220</id><published>2006-11-25T13:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T14:02:33.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>santa</title><content type='html'>I've already bought a few Christmas gifts, for myself and others. I've already rejected a couple of the gifts I selected for myself. Yeah, I'm that picky, I'm not even satisfied with what I choose for myself sometimes. I hate to sound greedy, but here's what remains on my wishlist this year:&lt;br /&gt;a deluxe spa day with manicure, pedicure, facial, and massage&lt;br /&gt;personal training sessions or private yoga/pilates instruction&lt;br /&gt;at least one professional house-cleaning session&lt;br /&gt;new duvet and decorative pillows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now before I come off as total evil and selfish, I just want to say that I plan on spreading goodwill this season by giving my time, and donating some things to others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-116449215364317220?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/116449215364317220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=116449215364317220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116449215364317220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116449215364317220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/11/santa.html' title='santa'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-116273556577838204</id><published>2006-11-05T05:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T06:06:05.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>how low can you go?</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling pretty low lately. Physically, I am not in my healthiest state. I'm actually getting chest pains and I'm too young and skinny to be in cardivascular distress. However, I haven't been exercising as regularly because of my job. I also haven't been eating well, I've been skipping meals as often as workouts. Not to get too graphic but my digestive system is in turmoil. I'm exhausted by the end of each day, then the prospect of getting up to do it all over again is just as depressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mentally, I feel burned out. I like getting along with people until given a reason to behave otherwise. Unfortunately not everyone shares that philosophy at my job, and it is starting to bum me out. I hate office politics because it doesn't even matter how hard you try, your fate is always going to be in somebody else's hands unless you manage to one day rise about it all and be in charge yourself and set things right. And that day seems so far away at this point in my career.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-116273556577838204?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/116273556577838204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=116273556577838204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116273556577838204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116273556577838204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/11/how-low-can-you-go.html' title='how low can you go?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-116173072324792411</id><published>2006-10-24T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T16:06:40.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ewwwwww</title><content type='html'>Ok, so before I met my better half, I dated a guy on and off for years and thought he was "the One". The last time we got back together after a long separation, he admitted that he hooked up with four girls while we were broken up (yeah, ew #1). I didn't press for details as to WHO, but I made sure none of them left him with any party favors, if you know what I mean. I decide to forgive him (ew #2), we reconcile, and break up the final time. So, fast forward to yesterday. I'm pathetically bored and decide to create a myspace account so I can see what my former high school classmates are up to (ew #3). I stumble across one of my younger brother's ex-girlfriends, who I've actually seen around recently because she moved to the same city I live in. According to her myspace, she is currently dating MY ex-boyfriend, and in her gushing blog entries, she chronicles how they &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt; have a &lt;em&gt;real relationship&lt;/em&gt;. Which means...whenever I hooked up with my ex, by that crazy 6 degrees health science class logic, it was like indirectly sleeping with my brother (biggest ew of all). Isn't that sick?!?!?! Shame on me, the phrase ignorance is bliss has never seemed so true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, on the professional tip, I am starting to feel a little paranoid that my supervisors are not clicking with me. I'm hoping I don't get transferred to a shitty division. I'm a hard worker, I like to think I'm intelligent, I'm nice to everyone unless given reason to act otherwise. One of their former colleagues, quite the diva herself, has taken a dislike to me. Perhaps because, in my standard approach to people, I don't tolerate her utter bullshit. I might be young and new to my field, but I don't appreciate being disrespected or patronized. Well, this chick will approach me with something unreasonable, then go over my head if I don't give in to her ridiculous demands. I'm not one to sit idly by when someone is trying to steamroll me, so I pulled the main offender supervisor aside and called her out for constantly letting this psycho run crying to them. I pointed out that even listening to her meritless complaints completely undermines my authority, especially when I'm not doing anything wrong. It feeds into this petty woman's behavior, and frankly it makes me feel like I don't have the support of people who are supposed to be on my side. I felt like it was falling on deaf ears, so we'll see. It pisses me off that someone who doesn't even work there anymore and is so obviously immature has any sort of influence over my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, does anyone out there watch Weeds? I only started this season, because we switched from the HBO package to Showtime. We figured with no more SATC and Sopranos in hiatus, HBO was a waste and Showtime has better movies. Well, I loved the actress from Fried Green Tomatoes and saw she has this show. I tuned in, even though for various reasons I don't smoke pot, and I'm hooked. Such a good show. Last night's episode was almost enough to turn this icky week around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-116173072324792411?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/116173072324792411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=116173072324792411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116173072324792411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/116173072324792411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/10/ewwwwww.html' title='ewwwwww'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-115672360851215613</id><published>2006-08-27T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-27T17:18:16.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>everything is super :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-115672360851215613?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/115672360851215613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=115672360851215613' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/115672360851215613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/115672360851215613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/08/update.html' title='update'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-115462683157438315</id><published>2006-08-03T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T10:40:31.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my life is complete</title><content type='html'>Well, not quite ha ha! Last night was the best Project Runway episode EVER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Polished nails, sparkling bathroom, freshly washed makeup brushes, clean laundry...I think I accomplish more when I stay home sick than when I function as a normal member of society. Not to mention I'm caught up on my grocery shopping, mail, tv shows, library books. It is crazy! I entered phase two of the organization and began making appointments. No small miracle. If only I could get back to a healthy level of physical activity. Yesterday I parked extra far from my lunch destination and was actually SORE from simple walking. That's sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you'll excuse me, it is time for my daily nap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-115462683157438315?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/115462683157438315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=115462683157438315' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/115462683157438315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/115462683157438315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-life-is-complete.html' title='my life is complete'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-115413929964876536</id><published>2006-07-28T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T19:14:59.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm not dead!</title><content type='html'>Six weeks between posts is quite a long time! I actually meant to post about two weeks ago, I had this amazing dream and all these wonderful ideas flowing, but I didn't get to my keyboard in time to type it up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I've been on a rollercoaster lately. Last week, I was practically bored to tears at work. I literally had nothing to do, I was completely caught up and I thought even ahead. Then this week is complete chaos. I didn't even eat lunch two days, I stayed late Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Nonstop running around. Then yesterday I crashed. I got this weird stomachache where I could barely sit up straight. I began feeling feverish. Then later my throat started hurting. I came home early and went to bed at 7pm. When I woke up this morning, I still felt awful. My sinuses decided to join in the fun and I was so congested my ears throbbed. I went in to wrap up a couple odds and ends, then I came right back home and slept again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I'm awake now. I started worrying my malaise was caused by something in my house, because it kind of felt like an exponentially uncomfortable allergy attack. I look in my refrigerator and almost vomit because it is so dirty. I don't really focus on the refrigerator very often because my fiance does most of the cooking and I obtain the rest of my meals outside our home. So I cleaned that bitch up. It was soooo gross. For good measure, I cleaned the microwave and oven, too. I am planning to tackle the rest of the house tomorrow, though the kitchen was probably the hardest part. I preen in both bathrooms quite a bit so they don't really have the chance to get disgusting. Chores excite me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What doesn't excite me is returning shit. It is a necessary evil, though. Our beloved puppy decided to chew some furniture. I went straight to PetSmart and bought two types of pet deterrent spray - one for no chewing and one for staying off the furniture. She jumped right onto one of the chairs I doused with the stay off spray. And she sniffed the no chew areas with interest so it is all going back. I'll just have to beat her the old fashioned way if she does it again. I can't believe their nerve to even sell it in the first place. It is probably just bottled water. Con artists! I also have to return items to Macy's and Amazon. That should be a blast. I am even being trifling and returning something to the grocery store because they rang it up incorrectly and I want my money back, dammit. Yeah, it is an extra errand for me, but they need to learn a lesson. I'm not the type of consumer to fuck with. When I'm not satisfied, it won't be a keeper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This tendency is going to make or break me with the wedding. There are SO many things that can go wrong. I'm making myself crazy stressing about it all. I have various grooming appointments I need to stay on top of if I want to look flawless the day of. I have to purchase gifts for key people. The wedding coordinators are getting on my nerves a little. Is it too late to elope? I haven't gone to the gym all week and I feel like a slob. I also feel like I've had 2 weeks of PMS. I'd certainly be getting more rest if I were dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-115413929964876536?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/115413929964876536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=115413929964876536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/115413929964876536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/115413929964876536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-not-dead.html' title='i&apos;m not dead!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114999662555372855</id><published>2006-06-10T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T20:30:29.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>boo hoo</title><content type='html'>Way late to the party, but I watched the Notebook tonight while my fiance was out, and have been emotional jelly the past hour. I'm glad I watched it alone, I don't enjoy crying in front of other people. I knew it was going to be a smushy-mushy schmoopie romance, so I sort of half paid attention the first part and was ready to dismiss it as typical chick flick cheesiness. When it began to get dramatic, I stopped doing chores and sat down. By the end, I was curled up on the couch sobbing. I expected it to be a cliche but it really was quite moving for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, before I could get TOO in touch with myself, I tuned in to a few reruns of Making the Band 3. Emotional release over. I can't wait for the new summer shows to start, especially Project Runway. I've noticed most of the shows I like these days are reality and/or competitive. All my "good" shows are either cancelled or on hiatus. Bummer :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as "they" say, tomorrow is another day. I plan on spending it completing a variety of tasks, some fun and some that are ___________ enough to bring tears to my eyes again :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114999662555372855?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114999662555372855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114999662555372855' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114999662555372855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114999662555372855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/06/boo-hoo.html' title='boo hoo'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114942241858871907</id><published>2006-06-04T04:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T05:00:18.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>so tired</title><content type='html'>Due to my increased responsibilities at work, I've been pretty busy. I've even had to do the dreaded going in over the weekend a couple times, just to tie up some loose ends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between our newest family member (a puppy) and my wicked stepchildren (my fiance's cats) I haven't been getting as much sleep as I would like to. They all delight in jumping onto the bed, chasing after each other, and making noise. If I was ambivalent about having real children before, I'm adamantly against it now. I'm happy to continue my immature, selfish lifestyle just the way it is. When would I ever have time to myself? I'd be in a constant beauty rest shortage! At least now my fiance, who is a much lighter sleeper, will wake up and tend to the beasts while I continue snoozing an extra few minutes. Then resentment will take over and he will make as much noise as possible (or encourage the animals to make noise, or encourage them to climb all over me) so I, too, am forced to arise earlier than anticipated. Once we're both up, we begin the cycle of walks, fetch, feedings, grooming, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The puppy does do some cute things, though. She gets hiccups, which in my opinion is the cutest even though I feel badly for her because I'm sure they are uncomfortable. She attacks the wicked stepchildren with gleeful relish. She lets us pick her up and carry her around. She falls to her pillow and instantly snores while napping. So all the energy required to keep up with her is worth it, sort of. Since I've been raptly observing and interacting with our new addition, the wedding planning has sort of fallen by the wayside. This development has my mom in a tizzy. She berates me at every opportunity when we speak on the phone. That is probably the most exhausting part of the process.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114942241858871907?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114942241858871907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114942241858871907' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114942241858871907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114942241858871907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-tired.html' title='so tired'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114700470288888611</id><published>2006-05-07T05:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T05:26:15.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>may flowers</title><content type='html'>The weather this month has been awesome. I bought new cushions for all my deck furniture and have been laying around on the chaise lounge whenever possible. Too bad I don't have a cute cabana boy to fetch me drinks! :) Being outdoors so much has also inspired us to landscape our yard. We already have grass, trees, and plants but the variety and execution could use some tweaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also been giving serious (re)consideration to getting a puppy. Whenever I am in a bad mood, seeing a puppy or even a dog somehow erases that. I don't know why, but it works. Since I haven't had time to visit my Xanax presciber, I need a natural equivalent. Exercise itself is effective, but the fuckers who happen to be around when I'm working out cause my stress to reach a whole new level. So a puppy would be an ideal solution. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I need to order a beautiful bouquet for my mom. I am also booking a mother/daughter spa afternoon for us (but that is obviously somewhat selfish since I'm benefiting from it as well). :) Ah, May!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114700470288888611?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114700470288888611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114700470288888611' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114700470288888611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114700470288888611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/05/may-flowers.html' title='may flowers'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114532712351891903</id><published>2006-04-17T19:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T19:31:32.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ooh oh witchy woman</title><content type='html'>Normally I am quick to be a little femi-nazi and point out how sexist men can be when a guy makes off-handed stereotypical comments about women. However, I am equally quick to pull the gender card one week out of the month during the time true ladies do not directly speak of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patience is NOT one of my virtues, on a good day. But I usually manage to mind my manners and even be charming from time to time. On a bad day, I can barely be civil. At best, I want to curse and scream at someone. At worst, I excitedly imagine executing a nice ass-beating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is amazing the people around me tolerate my bullshit. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; can hardly stand to be around myself. While recognizing how unreasonable my attitude is, it also raises questions about the people I interact with. Maybe I'm being a tad mental, but I wouldn't feel that way if I weren't pushed to the edge in the first place by inane comments, fake gestures, ridiculous inquiries, and petty attempts at bickering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also feel like a fat heifer, yet I can't help the simultaneous urge to lay around and eat decadent foods. I blame it all on my female chromosones. Maybe being burned at the stake would cure me of this bullshit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114532712351891903?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114532712351891903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114532712351891903' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114532712351891903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114532712351891903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/04/ooh-oh-witchy-woman.html' title='ooh oh witchy woman'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114501886015538983</id><published>2006-04-14T05:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T05:47:40.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>woot woot</title><content type='html'>I am officially promoted. I'll also be receiving a much larger salary. I'm very excited about it. I haven't done anything to officially celebrate yet but there are plans in the works. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My office is observing Good Friday so today is a total holiday for me. I went to the gym, plan to go to Target and get a mani/pedi, then clean the house. I've scheduled some wedding-related meetings later this afternoon, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All is well in my world. Hope whoever is reading this has a great weekend :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114501886015538983?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114501886015538983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114501886015538983' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114501886015538983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114501886015538983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/04/woot-woot.html' title='woot woot'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114419178926009343</id><published>2006-04-04T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T16:03:09.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i didn't stutter</title><content type='html'>One of my many pet peeves is when people do not listen. I hate repeating myself. Especially when it is due to the fact the asker is not actually listening to me and processing what I am saying and is one of those inane small talkers. I also hate it when people ask multiple versions of the same question. I'm finding this happens more and more as my wedding date nears. Unfortunately most of the inquiries come from people I have to interact with on a regular and/or professional basis so I cannot provide my standard bitchy answer that shuts people up. I have to come up with more creative ways to deflect their obnoxious questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like, when the person asks for the eightieth time whether I've progressed any with my plans, I ask if she would like to be my wedding coordinator. Since she seems SO concerned with how things are coming along. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, the handful of people who are breathlessly waiting to hear our honeymoon destination. I'll send you a postcard, bitches. You aren't invited so why do you care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when the fucker I've replied to via email twice and called back three times and said NO to, asks me one more time to reconsider. I didn't change my mind. Get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know some people are socially inept and only have a limited supply of topics in their "rotation" but go bore and annoy someone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114419178926009343?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114419178926009343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114419178926009343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114419178926009343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114419178926009343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-didnt-stutter.html' title='i didn&apos;t stutter'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114398395363160714</id><published>2006-04-02T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T06:19:13.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>controversy</title><content type='html'>Normally my posts are not this political but roll with it or come back another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way late to the party but I read &lt;em&gt;A Million Little Pieces &lt;/em&gt;this weekend. I know the media exposed James Frey as a big liar/embellisher. However, I had gotten on the library waitlist long before that scandal came about. Besides, the hype made me all the more curious to read it. The theme and tone reminded me of &lt;em&gt;Girl, Interrupted &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;Clockwork Orange&lt;/em&gt;. I don't understand why he latched onto the Lilly character because she seemed like a straight-up nasty crackwhore to me. If I saw someone I loved giving someone else a BJ it would be SO over right there. AA annoys me, so I was glad he poked fun at its principles and saw through the sham and realized all he needed to do was exercise self-control. I was disgusted when the counselors did not cite Rational Recovery as an option when he asked if there were other programs, very irresponsible. I think calling addiction a disease is pathetic. Overall, I liked it, and I'm still on the waitlist for &lt;em&gt;My Friend Leonard&lt;/em&gt; so I will probably read that, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This immigration debate is such bullshit. Show me a fucking American who is willing to do half the shit the illegals do. The work ethic among natural-born, lower-class citizens in our country is pretty much non-existent. Why work or wait to have kids when you can get welfare and public housing? Now I do agree that anyone who wants to live here should learn English, because I think it is disrespectful to reside anywhere long-term and not make an effort to communicate in the local dialect. Not to mention ignorant, since people could easily take advantage of you. Maybe the illegals already feel they are being screwed and don't care to learn English. I know this isn't very PC but I do get pretty irate at the ATM or phone call when I have to go that extra step and select English instead of Espanol. This is still America, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114398395363160714?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114398395363160714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114398395363160714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114398395363160714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114398395363160714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/04/controversy.html' title='controversy'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114213725888120092</id><published>2006-03-11T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T20:21:00.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pro/con</title><content type='html'>While lunching this afternoon I noticed an elderly woman sitting alone at a nearby table. She looked so frail and old. She was sitting so still I worried she had stopped moving for a reason. Watching her made me realize I need to stop stressing and obsessing over half the bullshit I let bother me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gisele's body is bangin' in those new Victoria's Secret IPEX commercials. But I won't be jealous of her! When I finish my workouts I'll be thankful I was able to do so, rather than lamenting I'm not in perfect modelly shape. The fact is, I'll never be 5'11 and I probably won't be able to maintain a size 0/2 indefinitely, so I should enjoy being small while it lasts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the new types of mineral makeup by Neutrogena and Physician's Formula have been calling my name. However, the shade I think I need is invariably sold out no matter which local store I go to. Today I finally sucked it up and ordered some from drugstore.com instead. At least I got free shipping. I'm also going to go out of my way tomorrow morning and try SuperTarget after the gym. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sort of bummed I didn't snap up this pair of shoes I was coveting when they were on sale, because now my size is sold out. I've been trolling ebay to see if any enterprising soul listed them, no dice yet. However, my size of some sale clothing WAS in stock at another store, so I loaded up on that instead. And really at the end of the day I have a billion pairs of footwear in my closet and not as many clothes, plus most people notice your outfit before your shoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm planning to cook breakfast, drink some sort of espresso concoction, then clean to my heart's content. :) Whenever I crave balance I turn to feng shui and de-cluttering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114213725888120092?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114213725888120092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114213725888120092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114213725888120092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114213725888120092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/03/procon.html' title='pro/con'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114054828957048190</id><published>2006-02-21T10:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T10:58:09.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sniffle sniffle</title><content type='html'>Apparently I've come down with whatever SARS/bird flu/Ebola is affecting a greater than usual number where I live. I believe the term "pandemic" was used when the news reported the phenomenon. Unfortunately I heard this news after I had been ingesting the hardcore antibiotics my doctor was thoughtful enough to prescribe 2 refills of when I had bronchitis in December (yes, sick again so soon) so now I'll probably end up with some kind of mutant strain of resistant bacteria and really die if it is in fact viral. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside, my fiance is pretty much doing whatever I ask. He's indulged my germophobia and bought me a gigantic can of Lysol (which is like shutting the barn door after the horse left, I know) and a gallon of organic pulp-free orange juice. He's also bought me Vick's Vaporub and boxes of Puffs plus with lotion because regular tissues tend to rub the delicate skin around my nose raw. He's also prepared steaming mugs of tea and all my meals for me the past couple days. Mercifully he hasn't commented on the five showers/baths I've been taking daily in order for the steam to momentarily clear my lungs and sinuses or the fact I've sprayed so much Lysol around the house that our tile floors are getting a little sticky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spacing on getting me anything for Valentines Day he should be doing all these things. But I love him for it anyways :) So even though I felt like Pam from "The Office" on VDay I think he made up for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;PS - Like pretty much everyone I know "in real life", my fiance is unaware this blog exists. It truly is my little online diary. So please don't think I am one of those people who posts smushy-wooshy cutesy shit that could be spared from all of your eyes and said in private. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114054828957048190?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114054828957048190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114054828957048190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114054828957048190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114054828957048190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/02/sniffle-sniffle.html' title='sniffle sniffle'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-114030562972310012</id><published>2006-02-18T15:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T15:33:49.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>looking ahead</title><content type='html'>Project Runway disappointed me again this season. My favorite (Nick) was shut out and will not get to present at Fashion Week. Last year my favorite (Austin) was equally deprived when they gave what should have been his slot to the horrible Wendy Pepper. And judging by the Getty Images photos, nobody's collection this season is that great. Hopefully Nick will have the last laugh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new nail salon near my house finally opened. I checked it out this morning and walked away with a much needed manicure and pedicure. It will be a good backup for when I don't have time to drive (the extra mile or so LoL) to my first choice "quickie" nail salon. My favorite place for treating myself to a super luxurious ($$$$) pedicure just closed so I need to find a backup for that next. I can't believe I missed the fact it was closing, I must drive by it at least 3 times a week...I guess I have been out of it lately. Too bad because apparently they had a big going out of business sale and I could have stocked up on goodies. Oh well! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, I am inching closer to promotion. I'm trying to keep my head down and work as hard as I can to show I deserve it. This one will be the biggie with a huge salary increase so I can't wait but I'm attempting to be patient and mellow and stay busy so time passes quickly. Probably why I was oblivious to what is going on in the world! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to resume my good habit of going to the gym 3 times a week. Lately the weather has been very cold, so in the morning I would rather snuggle in my warm bed than venture outside and freeze. I know I'll regret that attitude when bikini weather is in full swing, though! Discovering that bakery didn't help, it turned out to be the proverbial Pandora's box. My fiance and I have picked up desserts twice a week since our first visit. I rationalize I'm helping to support a fledgling business, and we only live once. As long as I balance it out with regular workouts and an otherwise balanced diet I don't see the harm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuing with the brain cobweb shake-off, I would like suggestions for new books. My reading tastes are very eclectic. I just finished Stephen King's "Cell" which has a totally fucked up yet remotely plausible plot! The nightstand is piled with library books but I read super quickly. If you're reading and can recommend a favorite author or title please comment. Thanks :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-114030562972310012?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/114030562972310012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=114030562972310012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114030562972310012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/114030562972310012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/02/looking-ahead.html' title='looking ahead'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113978829629899574</id><published>2006-02-12T15:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T15:51:36.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>quatro</title><content type='html'>Four jobs you've had in your life:&lt;br /&gt;- nanny&lt;br /&gt;- photo tech&lt;br /&gt;- personal trainer&lt;br /&gt;- food critic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four movies you could watch over and over: &lt;br /&gt;- Clueless&lt;br /&gt;- Legally Blonde&lt;br /&gt;- My Cousin Vinny&lt;br /&gt;- Office Space&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places you've lived:&lt;br /&gt;- happiness&lt;br /&gt;- fear&lt;br /&gt;- loathing&lt;br /&gt;- apathy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four TV shows you love to watch: &lt;br /&gt;- Project Runway&lt;br /&gt;- America’s Next Top Model&lt;br /&gt;- Scrubs&lt;br /&gt;- The Office&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places you've been on vacation:&lt;br /&gt;- Los Vegas&lt;br /&gt;- New Orleans&lt;br /&gt;- Spain&lt;br /&gt;- Bahamas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four websites you visit daily:&lt;br /&gt;- www.gawker.com&lt;br /&gt;- www.digitalcity.com&lt;br /&gt;- www.weather.com&lt;br /&gt;- www.televisionwithoutpity.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four of your favorite foods:&lt;br /&gt;- macaroni &amp; cheese&lt;br /&gt;- pizza&lt;br /&gt;- potatoes *waves to Jodi*&lt;br /&gt;- sushi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places you'd rather be: &lt;br /&gt;- beach&lt;br /&gt;- NYC&lt;br /&gt;- Amsterdam&lt;br /&gt;- South Pacific&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four albums you can't live without:&lt;br /&gt;- The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill&lt;br /&gt;- Get a Grip (Aerosmith)&lt;br /&gt;- self-created upbeat mix CDs&lt;br /&gt;- Seal Greatest Hits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four magazines you read: &lt;br /&gt;- Real Simple&lt;br /&gt;- Allure&lt;br /&gt;- Lucky&lt;br /&gt;- Bon Appetit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four cars you've owned: &lt;br /&gt;Technically the car I’m currently driving is still being paid off so I don’t actually own it, but it is the first car I’ve purchased. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This entry was blatantly taken from 2 other websites I adore, spriteboyworld and jodiverse. I doubt either of them would care but I wanted to give credit where credit is due! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113978829629899574?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113978829629899574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113978829629899574' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113978829629899574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113978829629899574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/02/quatro.html' title='quatro'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113866285222514821</id><published>2006-01-30T14:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T15:14:12.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>wish it were sunday</title><content type='html'>I hate to be trite but this Monday especially sucked ass. I feel like I achieved nothing but spinning my wheels. I woke up in time to go to the gym but I heard the unmistakable trickle of a rainshower so I decided I would rather sleep in. As soon as I went outside my nicely layered hairstyle that took absolutely no effort to achieve cause it looked like that when I rolled out of bed turned into a wavy mess and I had to slog through a bunch of parking lot puddles to enter my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately have a Problem to solve at my job. It ended up leading to an even bigger PROBLEM later in the day when I was really spent. I devoted my lunch hour to grabbing some takeout (which felt like it took an eternity) and completing a lot of what turned out to be pointless research. After that I was forced to deal with some completely unreasonable people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The high point of the day was a bitchfest with one of my friends. We retired to my office, shut the door, and didn't hold back about anyone who was pissing us off. We briefly debated orchestrating different ways to get ourselves working together again and I hope it can happen but it probably won't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when I checked my personal email account, I read a message from my fiance expressing reservations about going on a vacation we've been planning for ages. So one of the few things I've been looking forward could be down the drain. Between this weather and my upcoming aging memorial (i.e., birthday) I am just not in the best mood! In fact, I'm perilously close to drowning my sorrows in a loaf of kalamata olive loaf bread :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113866285222514821?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113866285222514821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113866285222514821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113866285222514821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113866285222514821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/01/wish-it-were-sunday.html' title='wish it were sunday'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113831210827688501</id><published>2006-01-26T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T13:48:28.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>afternoon delight</title><content type='html'>The past few hours were almost perfect. I left work early. Did some grocery shopping. Ate lunch in the comfort of my home. Rounded up my dry cleaning. Got a manicure and pedicure while reading my new issue of Allure. Checked out a newish bakery I've wanted to try forever and walked out with two scrumptious looking confections. Came home again and debated what to do next. Should I venture out once more and go to the library? Stock up on bottled water at Sam's club? Start cleaning in advance for the people coming over Saturday? I logged onto instant messenger to tell my fiance not to worry about dinner because I had it covered and was leaning towards the cleaning since I was back home and it is figuratively my "crack"...and he has news that rains on my little parade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently a couple we never socialize with anymore because I stopped speaking to the female half of that couple a couple years ago decided to invite themselves along for our Saturday plans. Um, no. I don't think so. And my fiance didn't think so either but now he is (understandably) bummed because he hates tension and he probably had to act like "the bad guy" and tell them no they aren't welcome - but if he is going to marry me he needs to get used to the fact that it doesn't really phase me to call a person out for doing something wrong. In fact, I relish pointing out the flaws in others and I am equally relentless criticizing myself. Sort of what being an OCD perfectionist will do to a girl. If you'll excuse me, I need to go get my afternoon back on track and make some essential grooming appointments that are sure to lift my spirits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113831210827688501?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113831210827688501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113831210827688501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113831210827688501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113831210827688501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/01/afternoon-delight.html' title='afternoon delight'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113743281242848687</id><published>2006-01-16T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T09:33:32.473-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the search is over</title><content type='html'>I found my Laura Mercier Cancun Coral Lip Glace. You may not understand how relieved I feel about this rather insignificant discovery. Let me enlighten you about the "fun" of what I like to call borderline OCD. I occasionally misplace little items, mainly accessories, travel mugs, clothing, and cosmetics. The realization my property is not where it belongs is enough to send me on an immediate and frantic search. Usually I locate within minutes because I am relatively organized and very impatient. But every once in awhile I've really fucked up and stashed something in a place beyond reason and it will take me MONTHS to stumble across the item at large. I attribute it to being distracted while trying to straighten up, such as a ringing phone causing me to set whatever it is whereever I happen to be. But it could be pure absent-mindedness. Shit, it could be a brain tumor. At any rate, it is monumentally reassuring when I find items I've written off as lost or stolen. Like a sign I'm not losing my mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113743281242848687?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113743281242848687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113743281242848687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113743281242848687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113743281242848687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/01/search-is-over.html' title='the search is over'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05726906673180296166'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>