<?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' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:33:18.365-07:00</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?max-results=100'/><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=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>133</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>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='http://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:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113735997601858162</id><published>2006-01-15T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T06:40:31.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>achtung</title><content type='html'>Project Runway is one of the best shows EVER. I always thought Heidi Klum was pretty in a cleancut sort of way but she looks gorgeous this season. If I'm ever pregnant, I hope I look as good as she does. The woman is absolutely radiant. The new blonde haircolor works for her. And Seal is her (newest) baby's daddy. I rock out to his greatest hits CD every now and then. Yay for Heidi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate going to the gym in January. I used to be one of the only people there so early and now I have to circle for a parking space in the garage. Hopefully just two more weeks until the new members start dropping like flies and I can work out in peace. I haven't even bothered with yoga lately because I can't concentrate during a class if someone sets a mat up within arm's length of me. It just makes me seethe the entire time wondering WTF is their problem. At least I can move to an alternate machine if someone invades my personal space at the gym. I may try to brave flow this afternoon, since I have today off work I should take advantage of attending a class I normally could not due to that pesky 8am-5pm schedule I must adhere to. If the class starts getting too full for my liking I can always leave. Or fake a whooping cough to deter others from approaching me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fiance and I have turned into little chefs. Experimenting with new ingredients, trying different types of wine, making trips to the farmer's market. We may sound like huge nerds but I find that focusing on possibility and variety even for a mundane domestic purpose paves the way for a more interesting life. It also motivates me to buckle down and tackle the more tedious tasks I need to accomplish, such as wedding planning. Lately any telephone conversations with my mom result in both of us raising our voices and hanging up pissed off at each other. I've visited four decent bridal salons (including the supposedly legendary Kleinfeld's) but I've departed from each empty handed. Choosing a gown is probably the most stressful aspect for me. I am toying with the idea of designing my own but I'd hate to see the finished product and not be crazy about it because I would have no one to blame but myself. The problem is, I am super petite and the sample sizes hang off my body. Usually I love shopping but it is just not fun to leave a store feeling frustrated, and it is getting hard to psych myself into an optimistic state of mind to try again after being disappointed with each store's selection. I wish I could have my own personal Project Runway challenge and assign each designer to create a dress for me! Austin, Nick, Emmett, if you are reading, I need an elegant garment that will make me look beautiful! I'll pay you good money! I'll be your fruit fly forever! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113735997601858162?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113735997601858162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113735997601858162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113735997601858162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113735997601858162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/01/achtung.html' title='achtung'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113664470884755774</id><published>2006-01-07T06:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T06:38:29.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>todos completos</title><content type='html'>All of the Christmas decor and presents are nestled away. I'm "doing laundry" as we speak (does anyone else think that is a weird phrase?) and it should be finished by this afternoon. I've thrown three bags of trash into the bin. I'm hoping to sweet-talk my fiance into cleaning the floors as that is the one chore I absolutely hate (but I greatly appreciate the end result) due to the fact it grosses me out to see the piles of what is essentially filth that are underfoot moments before being swept and mopped up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later today I will roll to the library and retrieve my books on hold. I'm debating a shopping venture because it is crazily cold outside and one of my winter coats is kind of blah and the other is a little too attention getting for the evening social plans. Plus it will clash with the outfit I want to wear. It seems a LITTLE silly to own three winter coats as a Florida resident but I really don't possess much warm clothing. I am also considering a visit to a department store cosmetics counter for the ostensible purpose of finding a wedding look but ulterior motive of getting my face 'done' for tonight :) because despite all the domestic energy I've expended this morning I really feel quite lazy today. In fact, the past few weeks I've found myself skipping breakfast quite a bit which is unusual for me (that is generally my favorite meal) and sleeping in more often. Maybe I just need additional beauty rest -though my mom swears it is impossible to catch up if you miss your eight hours. Anyhoo, I am certainly going to try and prove her wrong by laying around the rest of the morning watching TiVo'd shows. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113664470884755774?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113664470884755774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113664470884755774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113664470884755774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113664470884755774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/01/todos-completos.html' title='todos completos'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113660386611978309</id><published>2006-01-06T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T19:37:38.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>year in review</title><content type='html'>* What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done&lt;br /&gt;before?&lt;br /&gt;became a home-owner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will&lt;br /&gt;you make more for next year?&lt;br /&gt;I don't make resolutions, I alternate between disciplined and lazy all year, every year :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Did anyone close to you give birth?&lt;br /&gt;yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Did anyone close to you die?&lt;br /&gt;thankfully no friends or immediate family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What countries did you visit? &lt;br /&gt;I didn't travel abroad in 2005, but I will be crossing hemispheres in 2006!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked&lt;br /&gt;in 2005?&lt;br /&gt;mo' money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What date from 2005 will remain etched in your memory?&lt;br /&gt;when my fiance proposed &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was your biggest achievement of the year?&lt;br /&gt;professional advancement&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was your biggest failure?&lt;br /&gt;failure is such an ugly word! But I guess I neglected to get the puppy I thought I always wanted even though I have the space for it now because I determined I do not have enough energy to devote the attention a pet requires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Did you suffer illness or injury?&lt;br /&gt;both, minor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was the best thing you bought?&lt;br /&gt;kick ass furniture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Whose behavior merited celebration? &lt;br /&gt;anyone who managed to never frustrate or upset me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Whose behavior made you appalled?&lt;br /&gt;ha, I don't think I need to name names &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Where did most of your money go?&lt;br /&gt;it boosted the economy &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What did you get really, really, really excited&lt;br /&gt;about?&lt;br /&gt;visiting Manhattan in the fall with my family/fiance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What song will always remind you of 2005?&lt;br /&gt;Mariah Carey's catchy comeback tunes - takes me back, back into time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Compared to this time last year, are you:&lt;br /&gt;a) Happier or sadder?&lt;br /&gt;Definitely happier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) Thinner or fatter?&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think more toned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c) richer or poorer?&lt;br /&gt;Richer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What do you wish you'd done more of?&lt;br /&gt;Sleeping/relaxing/leisure activities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What do you wish you'd done less of?&lt;br /&gt;Stressing out/wasting weekends going to the office&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What do you want to do more of in 2006?&lt;br /&gt;whatever i didn't do enough of in 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How will you be spending Christmas?&lt;br /&gt;I spent it with family and future in-laws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How many one-night stands?&lt;br /&gt;zero - hello, I'm practically married!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was your favorite TV program?&lt;br /&gt;Just one? That is like asking me to make Sophie's choice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this&lt;br /&gt;time last year?&lt;br /&gt;Once someone really offends me it is like that person ceases to exist in my world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was the best book you read?&lt;br /&gt;My favorite author is Dean Koontz and he cranked out a few new novels that kept me turning the pages all night until I finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was your greatest musical discovery?&lt;br /&gt;Satellite radio continues to delight me :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What did you want and get?&lt;br /&gt;I got everything I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What was your favorite film of this year? &lt;br /&gt;I Heart Huckabees was uber-trippy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What did you do on your birthday, and how old were&lt;br /&gt;you?&lt;br /&gt;I turned the weekend before my 25th birthday into my celebration time because it fell on a Monday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How would you describe your personal fashion concept&lt;br /&gt;in 2005?&lt;br /&gt;prim and proper by day, slutty by night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What kept you sane?&lt;br /&gt;grooming rituals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the&lt;br /&gt;most?&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't throw Jude Law out of my bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What political issue stirred you the most? &lt;br /&gt;the fact you need a license to drive, fish, or hunt - but not to be a parent...and the fact a woman's right to choose could be in serious jeopardy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Who did you miss?&lt;br /&gt;Nobody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Who was the best new person you met? &lt;br /&gt;hard to say, as I'm constantly encountering fresh faces &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005:&lt;br /&gt;the person who angers you, conquers you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Quote a song's lyric that sums up your year and credit the artist:&lt;br /&gt;"don't want no drama/drama" Black Eyed Peas :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113660386611978309?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113660386611978309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113660386611978309' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113660386611978309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113660386611978309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2006/01/year-in-review.html' title='year in review'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113534144114170672</id><published>2005-12-23T04:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T04:37:21.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'>yuletide</title><content type='html'>I'm in a much better mood than I was this time last week. I think I just needed to stop overanalyzing the world and chill out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today should be the easiest day in the world at work. I've been coming in late, taking a lengthy lunch, and departing early almost every day this week. It has been great. Next week will be more of the same. I'm sure the whip will be cracking whenever January rolls around but I'm enjoying the leisurely period while it lasts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd better go, but I wanted to wish anyone reading a happy and safe holiday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113534144114170672?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113534144114170672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113534144114170672' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113534144114170672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113534144114170672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/12/yuletide.html' title='yuletide'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113478033102130067</id><published>2005-12-16T15:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T16:45:31.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>am i a grinch or a scrooge?</title><content type='html'>When I was younger I never understood why people always talked in hushed, somber tones about how depressing the holidays are. I wondered why so many suicides occur when the world is supposed to be in a state of merriment and cheer. Now, I know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your own family isn't dysfunctional enough, by the time you're older you have probably encountered a significant other's family who is twice as crazy as yours and makes you seriously consider sterilization. If everyone in your mutual families are normal, chances are at least one other person you know has enough stories to make you cringe until next winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work sucks, no matter what time of year, but even more so when you have fuckers who wear combinations of red and green attire the entire month of December, say "Merry Christmas" every day to everyone they see, and loudly hum carols. You're also expected to contribute towards various bullshit causes when you can barely afford to purchase thoughtful, tasteful gifts for the individuals you genuinely care about due to time and money constraints imposed by your job. You might also receive invitations to professional soirees you would rather not attend but kind of have to. Your employer may or may not give out year-end bonuses which leads to issues either way depending on your office politics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shopping, which is usually fun, sucks because the mall parking lot is so full that you wait 10 years for a space out in no man's land, when you finally get inside the stores are crowded, the temperature is overheated, and the item you want is sold out and you feel like a loser and leave empty-handed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating, which is usually fun, turns into a gigantic ordeal. People are incredulous when you reject all the junk you realize you shouldn't eat - or you eat the junk and feel guilty and fat afterwards. You realize with horror that your once perfectly fitting pants are a little snug around the waist and with even more horror that you might have to become one of those New Year's resolution weight loss people you used to scoff at when they joined the gym in January and pray it is just PMS induced water retention - one of the few times PMS is viewed as a positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drinking, which is usually fun, turns into a gigantic ordeal. You don't want to get too sloshed and say the wrong thing at a holiday party, witness colleagues in embarrassing states, or in a situation where you have to drive anywhere or rely on some skeevy person (including cabbies) for a ride home. At the same time, going to such an event with no liquid sunshine in your system whatsoever is enough to make you want to stay home and not even bother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coordinating with your friends becomes a giant ordeal. People tend to flake out, be it pre-festivity or during. We all have that hoebag friend who will ditch you in a heartbeat for a one-night stand and those tendencies are all the more apparent when happening on a daily basis. Or the one who punks out with no legitimate excuse when you're ready to walk out the door, forcing you to either scramble for new arrangements with other people or throw in the towel and miss out on something you were looking forward to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, this time of year is just more trouble than it is worth. I'm not a super religious person but I do feel a lot of pressure to spend this time of year to be doing anything BUT celebrating the original "reason for the season." I've been reflecting a lot lately and most of it is negative and hopeless and saddened based on what I see going on around me. I feel like a failure because the only person I have a present for at this point is my mom, but I dread going out in public to acquire more. I've barely decorated our new house, our tree doesn't have ornaments because we haven't collected enough yet and I think it looks better to have none than just a few, my fiance hasn't put up the outside lights and probably won't get around to it at this point unless I nag at him which is an argument I'd prefer to skip. Everything seems unfinished but I feel like it is meaningless to complete it anyways. I have been in a bad mood all week, especially the past couple days, leaving me with such an empty feeling. Then I feel incredibly ungrateful because I truly don't have THAT much to complain about, so I start imagining how much worse others have it, and I'm back to being bummed out on their behalf. I really should be thankful for all that I'm blessed with...the health and intelligence of youth, a loving relationship, most of my family members still around, my first house, my car, a secure job and upwardly mobile career path. Why do I still feel like something is missing? What is wrong with me? Damn the holidays, I have no other explanation for it. I'm blaming my downward spiral into gloom on Santa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113478033102130067?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113478033102130067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113478033102130067' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113478033102130067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113478033102130067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/12/am-i-grinch-or-scrooge.html' title='am i a grinch or a scrooge?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113387789881539338</id><published>2005-12-06T05:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T06:04:58.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>anti-venom</title><content type='html'>I've been battling the cold from hell the past two weeks. It has run through my body like the Nazis through Poland. It started with my head and is today occupying my um, intestinal region. I am on the last day of my medicine and I still don't feel cured. I decided to use today to attempt to recover, even though I am experiencing the urge to go do Christmas shopping or something useful instead of laying around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lack the energy to throw out my typical commentary, so let me reveal my penchant for mushy wushy stuff:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- cute toddlers: http://bricksandstones.blogspot.com/2005/12/maddox-is-cute-kid_05.html#links&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- old men: http://www.historychannel.com/bandofbrothers/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- poky little puppies: http://oneidacastle.com/puppies4sale.JPG&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113387789881539338?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113387789881539338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113387789881539338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113387789881539338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113387789881539338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/12/anti-venom.html' title='anti-venom'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113242162004593337</id><published>2005-11-19T09:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-19T09:33:40.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>stalker-azzi</title><content type='html'>Believe it or not, I managed to find yet another fluff guilty pleasure tv program. It is on VH1 (natch) and the title is "Hollywood Snappers." The 30 minute show features photographers hunting down celebrities to chronicle their errands and daily lives. Hilarious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever the paparazzi comes after ME, I will be prepared to foil them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I had an awesome week. I won't bore you with the details but it may not be long before I become a household name. ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113242162004593337?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113242162004593337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113242162004593337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113242162004593337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113242162004593337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/11/stalker-azzi.html' title='stalker-azzi'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113172587483827868</id><published>2005-11-11T08:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T08:20:11.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>fun at the grocery store</title><content type='html'>I pull into the parking lot and am forced to wait for the lazy fuckers who stalk people that are leaving so they don't have to walk an extra 20 feet into the store. Then I attempt to park in a space but cannot because a stupid woman is letting her kids leave the door of her gigantic SUV hanging open so they can chatter with her as she loads her purchases (no doubt all sorts of unnecessary junk food) into the "cargo area" of her vehicle. Then I have to wait an extra minute for her to place her cart in the planter instead of running it back into the store, or placing it in the cart corrals that are ALL OVER THE PARKING LOT mere steps away from her precious darlings. I'm sure some of you are thinking "well, she couldn't leave her kids ALONE in the car" but that excuse won't fly. The place I shop offers help out to your car. Then she could have utilized that service, and stayed in her car with her kids instead of leaving the door hanging open blocking other drivers access to surrounding parking spaces setting an example of rudeness and setting a poor example of laziness by abandoning her cart. But, whatever. Manners, schmanners. I park my car, grab her cart, and purposely stand behind her so she cannot back out and shoot her a pointed look. She sheepishly smiles at me. I resist the urge to flip her off. Then I go inside and drop off the idiot's cart, grab a hand basket, and navigate the aisles of people pondering one brand of this over that. WTF-ever just buy it, I can't understand why it takes ten minutes to make such a momentous decision. I get what I need in record time, dart into a far away check out lane because I know the "express" never runs as such, thinking that it is far away from the exit so it won't be crowded. Only one person is in front of me. And the bitch decides to pay for her groceries with a check. Who DOES that? In this day and age seriously everyone should have a debit card for trips to the supermarket or Target or the ATM. And she didn't even have it partially complete with oh, say, the date, store, and her signature while she (and I) were waiting. I was ready to scream by the time I left. Thankfully the trip home was without incident. I just want to make myself lunch and take a nap now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113172587483827868?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113172587483827868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113172587483827868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113172587483827868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113172587483827868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/11/fun-at-grocery-store.html' title='fun at the grocery store'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113069896611911752</id><published>2005-10-30T10:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T11:02:47.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>clean slate</title><content type='html'>This morning I hopped off the laziness train I boarded yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went grocery shopping and bought a latte. I hit the gym. I straightened up my house: laundry, scoured the bathrooms, mopped the floors, etc. My fiance's cat promptly vomited all over the newly pristine tile, which ordinarily would piss me off but didn't bother me so much today. I'm cooking pumpkin soup tonight, and I prepared chocolate covered strawberries for dessert. Who needs Halloween crap candy when I can ingest something much yummier?! :) Though I do have a supply of that on hand in case any trick-o'-treaters stop by. Before I go to bed I will choose my outfits for the entire week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I will arrive at work early, and get my new office in order (was too tired to do anything other than drop off the boxes of possessions from my old office on Friday afternoon). I still need to send a lame-o "goodbye" email to my former co-workers which is pretty fake and gay (in the 7th grade sense of the word) but I don't want to be the one person who doesn't *eye roll* Then I will focus on all the new tasks ahead! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vow to go to at least one yoga class this week, and workout at least twice. I need to start diligently taking my vitamins again. I have to schedule hair, nail, and massage appointments for November. I have lots of plans to do more things better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113069896611911752?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113069896611911752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113069896611911752' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113069896611911752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113069896611911752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/clean-slate.html' title='clean slate'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113054871620252553</id><published>2005-10-28T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-28T18:18:36.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>next</title><content type='html'>My newest guilty pleasure fluff show is of course on MTV. It is called Next. One person has the option of five dates. If a date begins and the person isn't feeling it, he or she says "next" and a new date commences. It is hilarious to see how shallow some of the contestants are and how much sh*t some of them talk! For example, "I get more pussy than the humane society" LMAO. Typically at least one person per show is "nexted" on sight. It definitely isn't the most politically correct program but I get sucked into each episode. Watch it, you'll see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving along, I was officially promoted and so far I can't complain. I like my new office, all the people in my new division have been friendly and helpful, and most importantly I will be out of the toxic environment! Seriously, I liked most of the people I worked with before as individuals but there were so many petty personality conflicts among the group and so few people shared my work ethic that it could be quite frustrating. Not to mention the schizo that was our boss, who is one step away from a padded cell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I have no major plans. I absolutely refuse to do anything but relax. My fiance is out of town, but so are most of my friends which rules out any unsupervised debauchery. I am thinking about buying a hammock to set up in our backyard and just laying in it to read magazines and books. Maybe some hot cocoa with marshmallows if the weather cools off again. Supposedly organic marshmallows are better, guess I'll find out when I go to the health food store.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113054871620252553?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113054871620252553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113054871620252553' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113054871620252553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113054871620252553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/next.html' title='next'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113018209013649013</id><published>2005-10-24T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T12:28:12.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>grown up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/55684340/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/32/55684340_ca8cef0a34_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/55684340/"&gt;table&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/10052440@N00/"&gt;fabdiva&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I purchased my OWN furniture! It was not received as a hand-me-down or given as a gift, it will be occupying my house because I selected it and bought it. Furniture shopping is even more dangerous than buying clothing, accessories, or beauty products because you keep wanting more once you set the new stuff next to the old stuff or partially fill a previously empty area. Plus you can't turn down the extra options to maximize the use of your new furniture, like leather cleaner or coasters. I'm fighting an urge to tackle the void that is our media room...and reminding myself one piece at a time is plenty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no, that picture is not my actual space, only a privileged few are special enough to see my inner sanctum. But anyone on the internet can see what my new table looks like.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113018209013649013?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113018209013649013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113018209013649013' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113018209013649013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113018209013649013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/grown-up.html' title='grown up'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-113001664746944651</id><published>2005-10-22T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-22T14:30:47.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>when she was bad she was horrid</title><content type='html'>The day I stayed home, "sick", one of my co-workers called. I was out running some errands and thought it might be my mom checking in to let me know she arrived at my house early for our lunch date so I automatically answered. I was driving, with my electronic music going, so I swiftly turned down the volume and came on strong with the hoarse voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"hello?" *cough*&lt;br /&gt;"hey"&lt;br /&gt;"oh, hi" *sniffle*&lt;br /&gt;"i wanted to tell you something"&lt;br /&gt;"what?" &lt;br /&gt;"you're only going to be in our division one more week"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW! I couldn't believe it. I expected to be punished with bad karma for abusing the lenient call-in policy and shunned as a faker, but apparently they announced my promotion while I was out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate, I indulged in even more naughty behavior. Online shopping. Cosmetics, clothing, and swimwear. As if I need a bikini anytime soon, but I'll wear one in South Beach next spring and possibly during our honeymoon if we select a tropical destination. It is a bitchin' black one with a cute belted hipster bottom. YEAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-113001664746944651?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/113001664746944651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=113001664746944651' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113001664746944651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/113001664746944651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/when-she-was-bad-she-was-horrid.html' title='when she was bad she was horrid'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112976456931237240</id><published>2005-10-19T16:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T16:29:29.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bad girl!</title><content type='html'>So I'm totally planning to play hooky from work tomorrow. I am going to call in sick and enjoy some "me" time. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Library&lt;br /&gt;Manicure &amp; Pedicure&lt;br /&gt;Lunch with my mom (she legitimately doesn't have to work this week)&lt;br /&gt;Shopping&lt;br /&gt;Laundry &amp; Cleaning (for most people these are chores, but I actually enjoy it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may try to squeeze in a hair appointment if I have time, because it has been un-fucking-manageable lately. I am trying to grow it out for my wedding but it is getting to the 'blah' stage where it is too long to look cute and piece-y but not long enough for a cascading ponytail or similarly elegant pulled-back style. But, if that is my biggest complaint at the moment I should consider myself lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112976456931237240?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112976456931237240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112976456931237240' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112976456931237240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112976456931237240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/bad-girl.html' title='bad girl!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112879079272244894</id><published>2005-10-04T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-08T09:59:52.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>new month</title><content type='html'>I kicked it off last weekend by doing lots of fun things to ease my mind. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retail therapy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Purchased footwear, cosmetics, and clothing on recent soothing shopping trips. I also replenished my supply of white tea. I swear it works wonders for my skin...I can see a difference when I don't drink it for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part is, I did not pay full price for anything. Everything was either on sale or discounted through an in-store promotion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outings with Friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-2.5 hour lunch with officemates Friday afternoon&lt;br /&gt;-dinner date with fiancé Friday&lt;br /&gt;-leisurely afternoon with a good friend on Saturday which included lunch, browsing at an art festival, being delighted at the sight of so many dogs, and some of the aforementioned retail therapy&lt;br /&gt;-drinks with a small group late Saturday evening&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solo pursuits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Two new books from the library&lt;br /&gt;-Magazines and catalogs to leaf through&lt;br /&gt;-Hitting the gym&lt;br /&gt;-Washing my car&lt;br /&gt;-Cleaning my closet and setting aside clothing for the hurricane victims&lt;br /&gt;-Planning things to do/see for an upcoming vacation&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112879079272244894?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112879079272244894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112879079272244894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112879079272244894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112879079272244894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/new-month.html' title='new month'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112815337074927610</id><published>2005-10-01T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T01:02:58.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>shattered dreams</title><content type='html'>September had a lot of ups and downs. I wouldn't call it the worst ever, but the last day of the month was very bittersweet for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, I now have a wedding to plan. I'm liking the idea of coordinating all the details but I don't know how easy it will be to execute my vision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The houseguest is gone, but it took a heavy emotional toll and almost negated the need to plan my wedding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I would be promoted at work (finally) but my (selfish) supervisor said she wants to keep me where I am EVEN LONGER because I am such a good example that I can train other employees (which isn't one of my duties) blah blah compliments. It is so disappointing, I am overdue to advance, and expected it to be the topic of our meeting. I didn't bother hiding how upset I was, and I told her that I felt like I was being punished for excelling. The people who are doing poorly should be directed to get cracking, *I* should NOT be held back to bolster their performance. It is completely unfair. Maybe in the long run that wasn't the savviest approach to take, but at this point I'm not being paid enough to care and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least articulate the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only positive aspect to remaining where I am is that the handful of colleagues and co-workers who count recognize how unjust the situation is and are going out of their way(s) to be nice to me. So at least I'm not being mistreated all around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112815337074927610?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112815337074927610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112815337074927610' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112815337074927610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112815337074927610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/10/shattered-dreams.html' title='shattered dreams'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112664929698127050</id><published>2005-09-13T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T15:08:16.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ommmmm</title><content type='html'>This is a PMS fueled rant that I will probably delete after I've had a couple days to cool off but right now I need to get it ALL off my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unwanted people in your house is just the worst. I hate feeling uncomfortable in my own house. I hate waiting until the person leaves. I hate not being able to trot around sans clothing whenever I feel like it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unwanted people in your office is just the worst. I hate having to smile at people I don't like in the halls or make idiotic conversations in the elevator. I hate that I can't tell the fatty who eats all day to shove all the food up her ass whenever she complains how she needs to lose weight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok that is enough for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112664929698127050?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112664929698127050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112664929698127050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112664929698127050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112664929698127050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/09/ommmmm.html' title='ommmmm'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112579462034983893</id><published>2005-09-03T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-03T17:43:40.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>miracle elixir?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/39948216/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/22/39948216_3a34418ab1_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/39948216/"&gt;fekkai&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/10052440@N00/"&gt;fabdiva&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;http://www.neimanmarcus.com/store/catalog/prod.jhtml?itemId=prod23770015&amp;parentId=cat000395&amp;masterId=cat000393&amp;grandMasterId=cat000293&amp;cmCat=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For $195, this should come to your house and style your hair for you. It should make your hair grow magically from your head like those old school dolls.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112579462034983893?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112579462034983893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112579462034983893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112579462034983893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112579462034983893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/09/miracle-elixir.html' title='miracle elixir?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112569274755260203</id><published>2005-09-02T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-02T13:25:47.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tune up...your brain</title><content type='html'>I am so sick of hearing people whine about gas prices. It has gotten even worse since Hurricane Katrina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a bright idea. Stop supporting the SUV industry. Is it really necessary to drive an enormous off road vehicle in suburbia when 90% of the time you are in the car alone or with one other person? I didn't think so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't rocket science. The larger the vehicle, the more fuel it consumes. With everyone hopping on the Navigator/Explorer/Pathfinder/Hummer/etc. wagon, it is only a matter of time before gas is tapped out. Supply and demand. Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you aren't part of the solution, you are part of the problem. Stop complaining about it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - and don't even suggest a hybrid SUV. That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard. If you really care about conservation, buy a hybrid CAR. Even most regular automobiles get better mileage than a hybrid SUV. I want to smack whatever quasi-hippie marketing team who came up with the concept of a hybrid SUV.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112569274755260203?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112569274755260203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112569274755260203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112569274755260203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112569274755260203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/09/tune-upyour-brain.html' title='tune up...your brain'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112398388068458277</id><published>2005-08-13T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T18:48:09.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>questionnaire</title><content type='html'>[ .. ] first name: Ben&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] middle name: Dover&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] nickname(s): fabdiva&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] gender: I'm all woman, baby&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] height: just over 5 feet&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you wear glasses or contacts: both&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you have braces: I have naturally straight teeth&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] is your hair long or short: medium length &lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] zodiac sign: Aquarius&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] how many languages do you know: two and a half&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] bad habit: buying shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: pets :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you have a pet: one gorgeous hound&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you like them: I love her, she is my baby!&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] what do you do with them: play, cuddle, stroke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] least favorite subjects: mathematics, which I suck at&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: favorites :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] number: 7 - i know, how cliche&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] shoes: i can't limit myself to one pair, come on now!&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] tv show: currently Laguna Beach (i know i'm too old for it, shut up!) &lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] sport: *yawn*&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] vegetable: cucumber&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] fruit: mango or strawberry&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] candy: marzipan&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] gum: i don't chew gum&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] candy bar: Godiva dark chocolate with raspberry filling&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] ice cream flavor: cookies and cream&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] color: silver&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] season: autumn&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] holiday: Halloween&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] type of music: electronic closely followed by rap/hip-hop/r&amp;b&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] thing in your room: my bed!&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] place to be: in bed! &lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] tv channel: vh1 or bravo&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] overall food: Japanese or Italian&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] store: Macy's&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] fast food: Steak n' Shake&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] restaurant: i can't narrow this down, i love dining out&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] shape: star&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] time of day: evening&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] mall: hmmmm...it is a tossup between outlet and regular&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] board game: Cranium&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] car: hondas, bmws, volvos&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] month: October&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: what's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] eminem: idiot&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] dog: i love dogs!&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] sexy: gideon (from mtv news)&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] britney spears: famewhore&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] nsync: bye bye bye&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] real world: "this is the true story..."&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] orange: juice&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] black: cat&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] jack: in the box&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] rainbow: sky&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] cherry: chocolate&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] cucumber: cool&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] shark: jaws music&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] bat: squeaky sounds&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] leather: dominatrix-y whip sound&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] whip: horses&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] america: the flag&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] water: waves&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] volcano: explosions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: private life :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you have a crush: sure, crushes are fun&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you love anyone right now: of course&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] how many hearts of have you broken: not sure&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] how many people broke your heart: a couple&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] so what is your bf/gf/crush like: intelligent, sensitive, attractive, attentive, caring, dependable, honest, and ambitious&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you go by looks or personality: let's be real - looks reel a person in and personality is what makes someone stay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: would you ever :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] bungee jump: if i had to&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] sky dive: last time i tried they couldn't take us out (too windy)&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] swim with dolphins: dying to do that!&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] scuba dive: planning to get certified&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] go rock climbing: yes, once i master the simu-climb&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] eat shit for $1,000,000: depends how much LoL&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] turn your back on your friends for personal gain: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] steal a friend's boyfriend/girlfriend: never&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] cross-dress: i already do, not in a reverse-tranny way&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] lie to the police: if necessary&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] run from the police: if necessary&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] lie to your parents: if necessary&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] walk up to a stranger and kiss them: ew, never&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] walk out of a restaurant without paying: no, that's tacky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: have you ever :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] flashed someone: oh yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] told the person you liked how you felt: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] been to Michigan: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] gotten really REALLY wasted: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] gone to jail or juvi: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] skateboarded: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] skinny dipped: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] stolen anything: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] pegged someone in the head with a snowball: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] broke a beer bottle: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] gone on a road trip: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] gone on vacation without adult supervision: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] been to a concert: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] been to another country: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] talked back to an adult: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] got pulled over: yes but i sweet-talked my way out of it :)&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] got in a car accident: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] broke a law: only ones that shouldn't exist&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] given money to a homeless person: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] tried to kill yourself: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] cried to get out of trouble: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] kissed a friend's brother or sister: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] kissed a brother or sister's friend: no &lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] dropped something on the floor that you were cooking and let someone eat it anyways: no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: what did you do :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] last birthday: celebrated!&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] last weekend: chores, errands, went out for a friend's birthday&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] christmas: visited my parents&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] thanksgiving: enjoyed a huge meal&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] new year's eve: nothing major&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] halloween: attended a costume party&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] easter: nothing&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] valentine's day: dinner a deux at a fancy restaurant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: the last :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] thing you ate: pizza&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] thing you drank: water&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] thing you wore: a guy's v-neck undershirt and my old cheerleading shorts&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] place you went: a barbeque&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] person you saw: the pizza guy lol&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] hair: still wet from the shower&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: yes or no :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you a vegetarian: no&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you like cows: yes, it is funny when they try to lick you&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you a bitch/asshole: most of the time ha ha&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you artistic: yes, but not as much as I used to be&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you write poetry: when i am inspired&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] can you ski: neither water nor snow&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you british: i'm sure my ancestors are&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] did you ever give barbie a haircut: yes &lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] would you eat mac &amp; cheese with hot dogs in it: i've tried it but it isn't my favorite meal&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you straight: unquestionably&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you short: petite, yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you a typical teenager: i'm not a teenager but i'd like to think i wasn't a "typical teenager" whatever that means&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you shop at hot topic: never have, i'm not a raver &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: random questions :&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] if you could be any animal, what would you be: unicorn&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] if you had to eat and drink one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be: green tea and sushi&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you remember any of your dreams: vividly&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you dream in color or black and white: colour usually&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you admit when you need help with a problem: sometimes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] can people read you like a book: occasionally&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you talk a lot: yes &lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you afraid of clowns: only IT&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you like spiders: they scare me&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you like grape kool-aid? I don't drink koolaid&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] do you drive: yes&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you spoiled: i prefer "privileged"&lt;br /&gt;[ .. ] are you anti-social: at certain times&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112398388068458277?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112398388068458277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112398388068458277' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112398388068458277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112398388068458277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/08/questionnaire.html' title='questionnaire'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112320894707778602</id><published>2005-08-04T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T16:05:59.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>variety is the spice of life</title><content type='html'>I recently made some astonishing discoveries!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying different things rocks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, as anyone who regularly reads this can tell, I have an opinion about everything. As a result, I can occasionally be very rigid and set in my ways because I feel my way is the right way. For example, with food. I know what I like, and I know what I should avoid for nutrition reasons and/or personal preference. But, the other day at lunch with a friend, I ordered the special, which was a BBQ bacon burger (Jodi, please forgive me). When the waiter brought it, the ingredients also included cheese. Normally I do not eat cheeseburgers. I enjoy cheese, and I enjoy burgers once in a blue moon, but I do not enjoy the combination (I also feel this way about peanut-butter and chocolate, pizza and sausage, and a whole list of other weird duos). This was a friend I hadn't dined with in awhile and I was eager to catch up so I just ate my damn meal. And, it wasn't so bad. I barely noticed the cheese. I don't even understand why people bother ordering a cheeseburger, to me it didn't seem to add anything to the entree but calories. The last time I accidentally ended up with a cheeseburger, it was much grosser tasting. Maybe the BBQ sauce masked the flavor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I decided to order a different variety of sushi and it is now my favorite. This time it was a conscious choice to deviate from the norm, but it was a pleasant surprise to be so delighted with the unusual flavor and eagerly anticipate my next encounter with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this week, I tuned into a show I had never watched before and ended up loving it and laughing my ass off for half an hour. I also picked a nail polish recently released by OPI at my manicure, instead of going with my typical shade. I caved and bought an item of Oprah approved lingere and it hasn't disappointed me. I impulse purchased fabulous makeup on another shopping trip and it yielded the perfect smokey eye. Ooooh rebellious, but to me those are all departures from my routines, and they each worked out to my satisfaction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, some calculated maneuvers turned out to be mistakes:&lt;br /&gt;-sleeping in and attempting to visit the gym after work. DISGUSTING. I have been to my gym in the evening before, but the express purpose was a Pilates class, so I wasn't forced to mingle with the "after work" crowd. That won't be happening again. &lt;br /&gt;-I'm iffy on an addition to my skincare regime, the jury is still out. I had to skip steps and rearrange to incorporate this item and it hasn't paid off (yet, I'm hoping) and patience is NOT one of my virtues so it better be fucking worth it!&lt;br /&gt;-Introducing my boyfriend to one of my good work friends, they really get along and it is bringing out the insecure high school girl in me. Especially during this tender phase where I'm self-conscious about my appearance (ok, that is every day of my life, who am I kidding, the perfectionism never stops!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, some moves I am contemplating:&lt;br /&gt;-switching hairdressers (not sure if I can stomach this at the moment) or at least hairstyles&lt;br /&gt;-booking a trip to NYC or LA in the fall, my boyfriend has never been to either place (I've never been to California) and we are overdue for a vacation together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112320894707778602?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112320894707778602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112320894707778602' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112320894707778602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112320894707778602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/08/variety-is-spice-of-life.html' title='variety is the spice of life'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112207137572466048</id><published>2005-07-22T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-22T15:34:31.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>land of the free?</title><content type='html'>I'm going to get a little political on everyone's ass and discuss constitutional rights...people tiptoe around certain ones, courts misinterpret others, and then there are those valid, legitimate reasonable rights that end up completely disregarded. Ha, this is all subjective analysis according to me, but I think I exercise fair and sound judgement most of the time. For example, it is total bullshit that certain women can't be sterilized. I'm sorry, but if a lady doesn't have the money to support one baby, and keeps getting pregnant and having more babies, and the government keeps having to foot the bill for these "accidental" births, then the government and NOT the female should be able to decide when to close down the factory. At the same time, I believe gay marriage AND adoption should be legalized across the nation. Who would it harm? Look at all these hetero couples who can't get their shit together, whose children end up being the devil's spawn, and basically contribute nothing worthwhile to society. Or you have those losers who act as foster or adoptive parents to collect a check while gay couples who would actually NURTURE a child are denied the privilege. Nobody will nip these ugly cycles that have REAL WORLD CONSEQUENCES in the bud, but there seems to be rapt attention devoted to silliness such as monitoring people's thoughts. It would impede on a person's "fundamental" right to thwart their (stupid) ACTIONS, but let's throw the book at a person for FEELING and THINKING a certain way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NASTY TIMES AT NEW TIMES-- Daily Business Review, http://ww.dailybusinessreview.com, July 22, 2005.&lt;br /&gt;Blogging, the publication by individuals of comments on personal Internet sites called Web logs, is becoming a growing legal and personnel headache for employers across the country. Now the problem has surfaced in South Florida. Until now, most litigation across the country has involved cases where employees have been discharged for blogs perceived to have hurt the company or their boss’s feelings. But potentially far more dangerous are lawsuits for defamation or libel filed by the targets of disparaging blogs, lawsuits that could name the blogger’s employer as a defendant. Attorneys say there have not yet been enough cases to establish how First Amendment and defamation law apply to blogs. But they predict that bloggers almost certainly will be held to the same standards as anyone publishing defamatory material in other forms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGH. dis-gust-ing! Hopefully I won't get jailed for saying so!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112207137572466048?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112207137572466048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112207137572466048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112207137572466048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112207137572466048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/07/land-of-free.html' title='land of the free?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112181659512486085</id><published>2005-07-19T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T16:43:15.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fearsome things come in small packages</title><content type='html'>So...remember the showdown I couldn't wait for? It still hasn't happened! She is still avoiding me. She left early yesterday and today before I could speak to her, and I know her secretary told her I was ready and eager to chat whenever she had a minute. ha ha. This is an almost better ego boost than actually saying my piece, she is clearly ashamed and knows I'm waiting to pounce. And you can be assured that I will, I just won't tolerate such egregious treatment. I can't stand it when people refuse to own up to the error of their ways. I'm tickled she is going to such lengths to prolong the inevitable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also discovered a pleasant surprise...according to an email I received today, our office gives tuition reimbursement so I am thinking about pursuing a master's or PhD. Cause, y'know, knowledge is power blah blah and quite frankly I miss being a student and I'm not satisfied with just one post-graduate degree. I'd continue working full time because we can only apply for 6 credit hours a semester, but it will be a nice distraction and the end result will be valuable. My sweetie's work does this as well, so we might be geeks together and try to coordinate our schedules. The university area of town has some damn good food, so I'm looking forward to a night class and then a yummy dinner. :) Seriously, I never get tired of asking questions, my thirst for learning is endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, I'm not turning into a total fuddy-duddy. Time to dust off my hoochie clothes, because I'm going out this weekend. woo hoo! I've been a little lax with fitness lately (gym 2x a week instead of 3, skipped yoga the past 2 weeks) so I hope my jeans still fit. At least I have some bombastic cleavage going courtesy of the nature's miracle that is my cycle. That should distract from my equally bombastic ass. heh. Peace out, homies!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112181659512486085?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112181659512486085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112181659512486085' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112181659512486085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112181659512486085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/07/fearsome-things-come-in-small-packages.html' title='fearsome things come in small packages'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112164295838578089</id><published>2005-07-17T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-17T16:29:18.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ahhhhh</title><content type='html'>This weekend has been amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning we went and picked up some new nightstands for our bedroom (the two we have now aren't a matched pair). Then we went to this absolutely delicious organic cafe that I haven't been to for quite awhile. I ordered a cappucino for the hell of it, I really wanted iced tea but they were out and I needed some sort of caffiene (and I don't drink soda). It turned out to be SO good! Have you ever tried a new thing and regretted not trying it sooner? That is how I felt as I was drinking this beverage! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came home and I did some regular chores, nothing too strenuous and it should be clear by now that cleaning is my crack so I actually enjoyed it. Then, I experienced the highlight of my week - a one hour relaxation massage. The hour passed like 5 minutes but it was so great. I booked an appointment for a spa pedicure in a couple weeks, I think I need these little 'pick me ups' to unwind and stay sane!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, we went to sushi with my parents, who came to visit. They met up at our house first and complimented our decorative additions. Then we enjoyed a superb dinner. And creme brulee for dessert! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I slept in, we went out to breakfast, and I've been idle most of the day. Watching tv, reading magazines and a novel, cooking, etc. I passed on an opportunity to see Willy Wonka because I hate going to movies with little kids in the audience and to be honest I wanted a some (more) alone time. I'm going to bed early. I only wish every day could be like this weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112164295838578089?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112164295838578089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112164295838578089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112164295838578089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112164295838578089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/07/ahhhhh.html' title='ahhhhh'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112133536310171456</id><published>2005-07-14T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T14:51:41.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nailed</title><content type='html'>The other day I actually leave work at a decent hour with everything under control, and walk to the parking lot in the spitting rain. I see this raggedy looking minivan parked thisclose to my car. As I stomp over with a big frown to inspect whether they've dinged my (beloved) car, I see something even worse. A fucking flat tire! Of course I was wearing a cute dress and heels and parked in a monster puddle. So I did what any normal girl would do, I turned on the charm and sweetly requested a male colleague to assist me. "Luckily" a nail was the culprit of the puncture, requiring me to shell out a mere twenty something dollars rather than one-hundred plus for a replacement Turanza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after I discover this fun surprise, I jet off during my lunch break to drop the tire off for repair. I return to the store to retrieve it and have it affixed. I go up to the register to pay while I'm waiting for them to re-attach it and both my main credit cards are missing from my wallet. I swear my heart just stopped for one second. Then my mind began to race with paranoid thoughts of identity theft and where were my cards, etc. Thankfully I got home and began ransacking my accessories (yes, I like my bag to complement my ensemble each day) and it turns out I must have slipped them into another purse and forgotten about them. Phew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after this, for whatever random reason, my shrew of a supervisor decided it would be the perfect time to absolutely SCREAM at me for failing to do something that I actually HAD done last week in front of lots of people. This definitely is not an isolate incident of that type of drama from her but it was a first to be the target of it. I took a BIG breath and shot my very best "what the fuck is your problem? you are going DOWN" look at her, and evenly responded that she was incorrect and that I completed the task last week. She looked taken aback and then huffed off. Later that morning, as soon as I was available, she was still nowhere to be found but a parade of people approached me and gave me props for how I handled it and little pep talks about what a bitch she always is and offered to stick up for me. In my opinion, it was far from over. I was ready to REALLY unload and I approached her secretary as soon as I could to let her know I wanted to speak to her. Unfortunately, the coward fled the office before I could speak to her and won't be returning until Monday. Here are the points I am going to address:&lt;br /&gt;-A) she did not even have her facts straight when she began accusing me of neglecting to do something I had clearly already accomplished&lt;br /&gt;-B) screaming at ANYBODY, regardless of what they've done (or "not done"), is plain  unprofessional&lt;br /&gt;-C) much less in such a public arena&lt;br /&gt;-D) much less from someone who is supposed to be setting an example&lt;br /&gt;-E) I've never encountered such uncivil treatment from any employer (in fact, I don't mean to toot my own horn but at every other job I've had and even this one until recently when she went off her meds or whatever is going on, I have always received very favorable feedback about my performance, work ethic, energy level, etc.)&lt;br /&gt;-F) I expect and deserve a sincere apology and a guarantee I will be spoken to in a regular, conversational tone of voice in the future&lt;br /&gt;One of my work-friends who was transferred from another division within the office into ours a couple months ago urged me to go above this lady's head and report her. I would have felt under-handed doing that when I knew she isn't even around for 2 days to defend herself (ha good luck trying, everyone saw!) I think it is more mature to try to speak with her privately and reach some sort of understanding first. And given her continued pattern of behavior, I am hoping she will sink herself soon enough. And given my continued pattern of behavior, I am going to soon be promoted and rise above this. I figure eventually her ass is going down and it isn't my responsibility to whistle-blow for the whole division. But I'm not above getting in the last word for myself. I eagerly anticipate the day in my career that I no longer feel like I'm putting in way more than I'm getting back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112133536310171456?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112133536310171456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112133536310171456' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112133536310171456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112133536310171456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/07/nailed.html' title='nailed'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112087616760183588</id><published>2005-07-08T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T19:42:11.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>get out of my head!</title><content type='html'>I've been preoccupied with destrutive thoughts lately so in an attempt to quiet the mind I'll mention some things I've fully intended to muse about and never got around to until now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I *adore* the Dr.Pepper commercial with the Meatloaf song. I've always paid attention to commercials for their marketing value and I think that one is hilarious. Some of my other favorites include the flawless editing presentations of Hewlett Packard and I-Pod. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-For the past week or so my appetite for various things has really waned. I've felt queasy after eating nearly every meal (even ones I hungrily devoured) and skipped others due to feeling nauseated, no motivation to do my strength training routine (my primary physically exerting activity was one power yoga class), absolutely zero espresso cravings. It is bizarre. Like I've turned into a pod person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Would you rather know you're getting a gift you really want and can help select, or would you rather be surprised with a present you'd never pick for yourself and aren't excited to have? Is it lazier to half-heartedly shop or enlist the help of the recipient?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Deciding between two color families for a new bedroom paint color. I might also use the 'runner-up' shade in the bathroom so either way I'll end up with new shades I like in both places. Option A is more neutral/conservative/taupe. Option B is a more funky/possibly trendy/pale aqua-turquoise. I'm leaning toward A for the bedroom and B for the bathroom but wondering if that is too quick to choose the 'safe' (i.e., boring?) route. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Please not another hurricane season where everyone moans like the apocalypse is upon us. The atmosphere is already getting a tad frenzied. I might end up wishing we could go into a state of vigilante justice where I'd be free to shoot errant citizens again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that note, I'll sign off before I slide too far down the slippery slope of negativity! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112087616760183588?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112087616760183588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112087616760183588' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112087616760183588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112087616760183588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/07/get-out-of-my-head.html' title='get out of my head!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-112025686033219125</id><published>2005-07-01T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T15:27:40.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>happy 4th of July!</title><content type='html'>Let freedom ring, God Bless America, blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't blow off your fingers playing with fireworks, people. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-112025686033219125?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/112025686033219125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=112025686033219125' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112025686033219125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/112025686033219125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/07/happy-4th-of-july.html' title='happy 4th of July!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111960830737494884</id><published>2005-06-24T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T03:18:27.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>whee for me</title><content type='html'>No cavities.&lt;br /&gt;Should (knock wood) be on track for promotion in a timely manner. &lt;br /&gt;New cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;Putting finishing touches on house this weekend if all goes to plan.&lt;br /&gt;Hostessing preview get together for closest friends next weekend. Otherwise I'd feel weird knowing EVERY guest is taking it in for the first time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111960830737494884?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111960830737494884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111960830737494884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111960830737494884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111960830737494884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/06/whee-for-me.html' title='whee for me'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111939357428257728</id><published>2005-06-21T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-21T15:39:34.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Odontophilia</title><content type='html'>Do you think I can get away with pulling a Mariah Carey/Lindsey Lohan by claiming to be suffering from "exhaustion"? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I'm actually &lt;em&gt;looking forward to a dentist appointment &lt;/em&gt;because it means I can leave work early. Granted, I've never been one of those people who fear and dread going to the dentist but it isn't something I eagerly anticipate either. Just a necessary routine. Certainly nothing to get excited about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111939357428257728?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111939357428257728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111939357428257728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111939357428257728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111939357428257728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/06/odontophilia.html' title='Odontophilia'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111845907324214919</id><published>2005-06-10T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T20:04:33.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>zippedy do dah</title><content type='html'>So it is Friday evening and I'm sitting at home like a lame-o because I'm too tired to go out, but I'm not ready to go to bed yet. So I thought I'd pontificate on how my house is shaping up until Best Week Ever airs. :) All our friends are harrassing us to hurry up and do the finishing touches so we can host our housewarming party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm acquiring more new furniture soon which I am very excited about. Technically one of the pieces isn't new-new, it is a couch belonging to my parents that I've coveted ever since they bought it. Lucky for me they recently redecorated and it doesn't match their new color scheme but it will blend perfectly with the paint in the living room at my house! :) I'm also planning to buy a coffee table (even though I'll probably never actually set a cup of coffee on it ha ha) because I finally found one I can't stop thinking about and if I like it that much I should probably bite the bullet and get it. I have a new dining set here but the table part needs assembly (rather simple, the base to the top) before it counts. I'm buying a complementary wine storage unit once I settle on one. Finally, I spied an armoire that ~could~ work in my bedroom. Right now we're using two dressers which don't coordinate with each other nor do they coordinate with my beautiful bed, so I definitely need a piece to tie in nicely before I take the plunge. Armoires have to be the most expensive furniture on the planet. I know they're sort of tall but they are basically just boards thrown together with a couple hinged doors and maybe a few shelves and drawers inside. I would think a large dresser with multiple drawers requires more craftsmanship and materials. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I am going to order roman shades for three little windows. Two are currently bare and one has ugly, 1980's style vinyl blinds on it. They look so tacky and cheap and dirty. Yuck. I'm thinking natural (matchstick wooden/bamboo/hewn materials) or modern (tasteful papyrus textured). I sure as hell hope someone else is willing to install them because I don't have the patience for tedious chores like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all the tasks remaining, the one I'm dreading is deciding what to do about our bedroom. Right now the paint is a crazy love-it-or-hate-it color. I can't find any bed linens (aside from white) that adhere to the asthetic I prefer while blending in with the color scheme. I need new ones though because the comforter we're using now matches but makes me wake up in a hot sweat. Repainting is such a pain though, even if I hire a pro everything will still have to be moved/tarped/etc. And I don't want it plain white because there is beautiful crown molding that 'pops' more with a colored wall. Maybe I should look at some paint swatches for inspiration. Or just embrace the color it is now. Oh well, if this is my biggest problem with the new house I'll consider myself blessed :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111845907324214919?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111845907324214919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111845907324214919' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111845907324214919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111845907324214919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/06/zippedy-do-dah.html' title='zippedy do dah'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111786899068121360</id><published>2005-06-03T23:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T00:22:23.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>people suck v.2</title><content type='html'>Is it normal to feel that for the most part, things will NOT be good the next couple weeks? I am dreading getting "slammed" at my job, but I know an absolute TON of long days are lurking and there is nothing I can do about it. I am going to go in this weekend to try and get whatever I can out of the way but there really isn't much I can prepare for in advance, I'm going to need to "roll with it."  UGH. Naturally this, standing alone, puts a cloud over everything. Then add to the fun half the staff and several of my colleagues are completely lazy and worthless, forcing me to "pick up their slack" and think semi-homicidal thoughts when confronted with such behavior (this happens on a daily basis). For example, I had to (pathetically) eat lunch at my desk every day this week in order to return phone calls with incomplete messages (that ended up being simple questions any administrative support person could have answered, had they taken the time to ask) or any number of other BASIC tasks various other people are normally in charge of carrying out. Why was I silently fuming while catching up on their work, you might ask? Because of course you see these individuals every day and have to deal with them so you can't ever say what you REALLY think. I've been ready to explode by the end of the day lately. The highest-up in our office is practically bi-polar, either super nice or a raging asshole, so my "emotional bank account" is, shall we say, overdrawn. It doesn't help that THE most useless person happens to be a major ally of our head supervisor (is that always the way it works in an office? quite ironic!) It is very upsetting to essentially be punished for being diligent and know I have to endure it or risk making my career even more miserable. I'm hoping the light at the end of the tunnel will be shining brightly in a couple months because (knock wood) I should be promoted no later than September and I'll move to a completely different building and hopefully never see most of them again. And blah blah blah what doesn't kill you will make you stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adding to the joy, recent conflicts between friends in my social life (or lack thereof would be a more accurate description these days) are weighing on my mind. I just wish everyone could get along. I hate being drawn into bullshit like that and I try to stay WAY out of it. On the other hand, even when you try to be impartial, opinions tend to form regardless and I end up with total cognitive dissonance. I guess I could be thankful I'm not really involved and leave it at that instead of stressing over it. I obsess enough as it is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111786899068121360?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111786899068121360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111786899068121360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111786899068121360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111786899068121360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/06/people-suck-v2.html' title='people suck v.2'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111746991872850633</id><published>2005-05-30T09:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T09:18:38.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>happy Memorial Day!</title><content type='html'>I know I'm happy it is a holiday and my office is therefore closed. :) And it proves my theory that I'd be better off with just ONE weekday off a month, because I completed a shitload (don't you love how gross that word is? ha) of errands done this morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to use a CVS coupon before tomorrow, so I bought a bunch of random stuff there. Buy 2, get one free stockings; two for the price of one lipgloss and eye makeup remover; a new nail file; Sally Hansen airbrush legs (my AirStocking can sounds ominously low, I'm curious to see if the less expensive version is equally good); and nail polish remover. I'm planning to give myself a manicure later and I have a pedicure appointment on Wednesday, hence all the nail accountrements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I ventured to my favorite coffee drive-thru and they were offering a two for one drink special. Holy cow! Now I have a spare for later plus the one I drank immediately fueled me up for the gym, which was surprisingly uncrowded and pleasant today. I had a 5K run on the elliptical and not a blessed soul encroached on the machines next to me (i.e., my personal space) so I felt even more exercise endorphins than usual because my buffer remained intact. :) I also did a kick ass weight circuit due to the absence of scary people on a machine I rarely get a chance to use. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I capped off the morning with a jaunt to a new health food store. I've been anxiously awaiting the opening because it is much closer to my house than the health food store I normally visit AND it has a juice bar! It was a blast to check it out, and their prices are quite competitive so I purchased a few things. I also stopped at the regular grocery and carried away 3 bottles of wine on sale (thinking ahead and trying to stock up for the housewarming party, even though I'll probably end up drinking it all before then at the rate the luck with furniture shopping is going, visited several stores and still nothing :-( boo hoo). The bagboy and cashier seemed impressed that I could carry all my groceries in one bag. Um, it is called being in shape? LoL. I know I look petite but I'm not a weakling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I didn't leave anyplace emptyhanded this morning and I was home before noon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111746991872850633?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111746991872850633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111746991872850633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111746991872850633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111746991872850633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/05/happy-memorial-day.html' title='happy Memorial Day!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111620003938332428</id><published>2005-05-15T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-15T16:33:59.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>slacking!</title><content type='html'>I was so rebellious - I didn't go into work this weekend. I decided I needed extra "me" time and thought to myself "screw it, it isn't like I get paid by the hour anyways...and forget about overtime..." I never believed that movie &lt;em&gt;Office Space&lt;/em&gt; had any basis in reality until I started working in a corporate environment. It was getting to the point last week where I wanted to just smack people for breathing so I feel like I deserve ONE weekend to myself. God knows there are colleagues who don't even do their job during a regular day much less devote any off-the-clock time to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I saw &lt;em&gt;Monster-in-Law&lt;/em&gt;, it wasn't Oscar-worthy but it is a cute way to spend ninety minutes if you love J.Lo or Jane Fonda. I have to admit I've always been a J.Lo fan, circa her Versace palm frond dress. Ever since her Flashdance-remake music video, I've discovered a new level of admiration for her. Girl takes care of herself, that ass didn't go from FlyGirl size to the way it looked in that video on its own. She looked good in the movie, too. I love seeing "regular" women like her and Jennifer Aniston whip themselves into shape, it just inspires me (though Jennifer A a little less because she bought into that Zone diet bullshit). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of diet, my pumpkin and I signed up for this really cool thing. You go to this kitchen and make a month's worth of ~healthy~ food that you take home and reheat. I'm really looking forward to it. The person we bought our house from left us a delicious meal from the place in our freezer, now we'll get to make more for ourselves. Not to mention what a huge time and stress saver it will be. I hate grocery shopping on the weekends or evenings which is generally when the store is super-crowded, and I feel slightly guilty being on the receiving end of all the cooking, so it will be a nice thing to do together. We're going to the beach next weekend to beat the Memorial Day crowd, so our session will be the weekend after next. I can't wait for either! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111620003938332428?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111620003938332428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111620003938332428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111620003938332428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111620003938332428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/05/slacking.html' title='slacking!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111602533914739209</id><published>2005-05-13T16:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T16:02:19.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>on a roll</title><content type='html'>Damn, I've been a downright posting ho lately but I can't help myself. Blame it on a caffiene rush. Or mania. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should totally be attending to my piles o' laundry right now but I am so thrilled at the prospect of NOTHING REALLY HANGING OVER MY HEAD that I don't even know what to do with myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, that is a lie, I'll need to do some work this weekend, but nothing too heinous. On the homefront my belongings are pretty much unpacked, all that remains to be unpacked are items that require storage in new furniture I have yet to purchase. I don't want to buy just for the sake of completing my space, I want to take my time carefully selecting the perfect things. I also need a few accent pieces to spice up various rooms. And knowing my taste/aesthetic, the chosen decor may require time to save money, too! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as leisurely pursuits, I have the following to look forward to:&lt;br /&gt;-yoga seminar&lt;br /&gt;-housewarming fiesta &lt;br /&gt;-baby fete for a favored colleague&lt;br /&gt;-drinks with friends just around the corner&lt;br /&gt;-a stash of (pleasurable!) reading materials to dig into&lt;br /&gt;-upcoming haircut, debating whether I should go for a dramatic change or stick with same ol' same ol'&lt;br /&gt;-upcoming haircolor, very eager for this, I ~adore~ "my" colorist and it always makes me feel so summery to update my color this time of year&lt;br /&gt;-booking a massage appointment, wavering between going with a new practitioner or sticking with the tried and true, I'm sort of a 'cheater' and occasionally branch out to make sure nobody else is better&lt;br /&gt;-mani/pedi (already know I am going to pick an obnoxiously tropical fruity shade!)&lt;br /&gt;-wearing newly cleaned clothes that have been out of the rotation for awhile&lt;br /&gt;-a visit from my parents (who never arrive empty handed, bless their hearts for knowing how much my materialistic self loves a good gift) :)&lt;br /&gt;-attending a cooking class&lt;br /&gt;-shopping next week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feliz fin de semana (as the super sweet cleaning lady in my building told me on the elevator today) :) Yes, I'm a geek and practice my Spanish with anyone who is willing to conversate with me. LoL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111602533914739209?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111602533914739209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111602533914739209' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111602533914739209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111602533914739209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/05/on-roll.html' title='on a roll'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111602367149003315</id><published>2005-05-13T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T15:34:31.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>so fresh and so clean</title><content type='html'>I have elaborate grooming rituals.&lt;br /&gt;Some might call it a sickness.&lt;br /&gt;I consider it necessary maintainence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I wash my face and brush my teeth at least twice a day. I exfoliate and moisturize at least once a day (usually in or subsequent to my daily shower). If I'm headed outdoors, I apply sunscreen and antioxidant cream to fight free radicals. Hopefully when I'm 50 I will look half my age. I started wearing sunscreen in my teens, and I think it paid off (good genes don't hurt either). Even now people constantly assume I am much younger than I am (which isn't really THAT old but still).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several days a week are devoted to fitness. I complete both cardio and weight training at the gym. I attend yoga classes and practice Pilates. Occasionally I in-line skate miles at a stretch. I try to be as active as possible. For the most part, I ingest a balanced diet. To me all of the above counts as grooming because it can make or break your physical appearance. I used to be gung-ho about various vitamins/supplements but I've slacked off in that department a bit because I didn't notice a huge difference in how I looked or felt when I was taking them, and the kinds I was taking weren't exactly cheap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About once a month, I get a manicure and pedicure. In the meantime, I'll shape and polish my nails myself. I also get my eyebrows threaded once a month and sugarwax other areas in need of depiliation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get my hair trimmed no more than eight weeks between appointments. Coloring appointments are spaced further apart, perhaps three times annually. For very special events peppered throught the year, I will enlist the help of my stylist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111602367149003315?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111602367149003315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111602367149003315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111602367149003315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111602367149003315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/05/so-fresh-and-so-clean.html' title='so fresh and so clean'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111594191414554410</id><published>2005-05-12T16:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T16:51:54.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm so going to hell</title><content type='html'>If you've been keeping up, you know I'm enjoying my newly acquired homeowner status. I was out exploring the new neighborhood a couple weeks ago and spied a sign for a new women's only gym, coming soon! The prospect of working out without being stared at excited me, it is within walking distance to my house, and their website looked sort of promising, so I decided to go to the open house last Saturday. Plus it advertised a bonanza of "door prize" gift certificates that I would actually use (massage, car detailing, free membership, ~good~ local restaurants, etc.) - sounds fantastic, right? WRONG. I was sorely disappointed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stroll up and am alarmed to see MEN. Um, I thought this was a women's only gym? And no, I'm not a closeted lesbian eagerly anticipating to ogle a female lovefest. The women's only gym I worked at in college didn't even have male JANITORS, much less male trainers or "membership consultants." And the only table set up to enter a drawing was for Mary Kay. WTF?! Where were the other giveaways and chair massages? Not to sound snobby but I haven't used Mary Kay cosmetics since like, middle school. At the check-in area, you could also enter a drawing for a free ninety day membership. Again, wtf? (an even bigger wtf? later when I found out their minimum contract is 12 months) I should have taken my cue and turned tail and ran home. But no, as they say, curiosity killed the cat. I forged ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The indoor area was not even finished! The bathrooms had no lighting and wires were hanging out of the wall. People were painting, drilling, sanding, etc. It was only 3500 square feet and part of this was occupied by tanning (yes, the 90's are back) beds. There was a pitiful little circle of weight machines in the middle of the room, and our "tour guide" (a man, btw - I guess women's only has a secret meaning that includes individuals with a penis) said a TV would prompt you to move to the next machine and no workout lasted longer than 32 minutes! I interrupted his spiel and asked "do we have to do a predetermined workout?" and he looked a little nervous and laughed "of course not, you can do your own" I countered "wouldn't that disrupt the 'flow' if I skipped around on the machines?" He didn't have an answer. I said "oh, so it is kind of like a Curves" and he was quick to insist it is NOTHING like Curves, except for the "women's only" part. There were only FOUR, yes four, cardio machines. But two tanning beds. Because apparently we don't get enough sun in Florida already, and people go to the gym to tan, not workout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gets worse. He led us (me and an older, larger lady) back to this shed looking thing. He beamed with pride "this is our FAR sauna, just sitting in it burns 600 calories." I nearly vomited. I could just picture being trapped in there with lazy asses who would probably bring a snack since, hey, it burns calories. Then he leaned forward and tried to reel us in. "For 39.95 a month you get a membership, kiddie corner childcare, and a personal trainer." He inquired whether we had any questions and I said "well, what if you don't have kids?" The big lady sneered "well, I guess you won't use kiddie corner" He looked flabbergasted and didn't answer me, so I elaborated. "The gym I go to now (which incidentally is 10x larger, better equipped, and costs LESS per month - this went unsaid but I am sharing for context) only charges members who actually USE and NEED the childcare a separate childcare fee, do you have a price point for people who will never utilize that service?" He said "well, it is included for every type of membership" At this point, I was tiring of his semantics. So I smiled charmingly and sweetly uttered "I don't think I am your target market." And pointedly stared at Miss Foaming at the mouth imagining her calories sweating off in the sauna while her rugrats play in the corner and she dutifully completes the exercises her "personal trainer" instructs her to, all in 32 minutes. Then I said "thank you, I've heard ALL I need to hear to make a decision" and I waltzed to the exit. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111594191414554410?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111594191414554410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111594191414554410' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111594191414554410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111594191414554410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/05/im-so-going-to-hell.html' title='i&apos;m so going to hell'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111474799559902016</id><published>2005-04-28T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T21:44:26.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>people suck</title><content type='html'>Yes, with a title like that you can be assured this entry will be full of self righteous passive aggressive ranting. Sorry to unload but if I can't do it on my "blog" where else is a good outlet? I'm certainly not going to inflict this tirade on anyone in "real life" because nobody can really help me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To recap, I've been at my still new-ish "dream" job since February. For the record that is 8 weeks. In that 8 weeks I have received approximately one full day of training total.  I've never shared my job title outright for purposes of confidentiality but I am a licensed professional so it isn't like I require oodles of training but I think more than a DAY total in 8 weeks for a job demanding the type of skill and discretion I need to exercise on a daily basis would not be unreasonable. I'm young, just starting out, and I appreciate guidance and wisdom from those generous enough to share it with me. Unfortunately it has been trial by fire and I'm forced to learn the hard way from every mistake I make. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I've started, 3 colleagues were promoted and moved to other divisions. Another was fired/quit. One supervisor is leaving soon. My original administrative assistant was also switched back to her previous position and I've had a new one roughly one week. In short, TONS of upheaval and high turnover. I'm now the "senior" person for my job function though a couple of the replacement people have more general experience than me. It is like the blind leading the blind. Needless to say, morale is very low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If all that isn't bad enough, the "overlord" of the operation has been incredibly abusive towards everybody lately. It is finally to the point where I feel incredibly uncomfortable because I hate needless conflict. Part of me wants to voice my concerns about the behavior because I'm not used to witnessing (or enduring) such unfair treatment. On the other hand, I'm worried a confrontation would fan the flames of something that might cool off on its own given a little time. I don't think it is very ethical to relate to people with sarcasm, rudeness, etc. even if you are in a position of authority. Hello, basic human decency. I've been biting my tongue but it is getting harder and harder to stand silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't consider myself a spineless creature, I always try to do the right thing. But I'm not perfect, I'm only human, and my judgment has proven incorrect in the past (even when I felt really strongly about something, thought it through, etc.) I don't think it is worth it to let stressing over this affect my mental and physical health. I prefer to choose my battles wisely and I doubt it is smart to take on such a challenge. But I know what I can tolerate and it is becoming unbearable. ~sigh~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111474799559902016?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111474799559902016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111474799559902016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111474799559902016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111474799559902016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/04/people-suck.html' title='people suck'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111424077770192601</id><published>2005-04-22T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-23T00:19:37.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i feel dirty</title><content type='html'>I'm settling into the new house and making all sorts of discoveries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the places I've lived since I moved away from home to begin college were more than one story (i.e., townhouses). I was a little concerned one level would be claustrophobic but it isn't bad so far. It made hauling all our things in much easier than traipsing upstairs with boxes and furniture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The previous owner pleasantly surprised us by leaving a variety of goodies behind, including a Swiffer WetJet. It turned out to be an awesome toy, incredibly useful because the whole house is tiled and it cleans more efficiently than a regular Swiffer mop. There was also a catered meal left in the freezer, which was a thoughtful gesture we have yet to fully enjoy but plan to take full advantage of when we have time to scour the oven to heat it up. Apparently the WetJet is not the only thing forgotten. I began to preheat the oven the other day only to return to the kitchen and see smoke pouring out of it. I actually couldn't tell where the smoke was coming from as the range had several items we were in the process of putting away stacked on top of it. We exchanged alarmed glances and frantically raced for the stovetop. Turns out the Easy-Off or whatever still coated the interior of the oven. We haven't perused the manual to determine how to run the self-clean cycle yet, so we've been cooking in the toaster oven or microwave or using the burners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of clean, I adore the shower in 'my' bathroom. It is a lovely stall, perfect for a person who rarely indulges in bubble baths. The water pressure is so invigorating I actually eagerly anticipate showering and relish every minute I spend in there. BUT this evening I washed my hands at the sink and reached for a decorative towel hanging near the aforementioned shower stall to dry them. I felt a little tickle on my arm, then on my leg, and I looked down to view a ROACH crawling near my bare foot. I am now repulsed at the idea of going into my former haven. I can't erase the memory of the sensation of the bug touching my body, either. *shudder* My boyfriend correctly pointed out we live in a tropical climate and bugs are not uncommon, but that still makes it hard to rest easy tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111424077770192601?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111424077770192601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111424077770192601' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111424077770192601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111424077770192601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-feel-dirty.html' title='i feel dirty'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111356591933309076</id><published>2005-04-15T04:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-15T04:51:59.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>egads!</title><content type='html'>I'm a homeowner! I can't believe it. The closing was way more painless than I expected, though I was hungry as hell by the end of it and our Wells Fargo rep was ready to kill the title agent for taking so long. LoL. Everyone made the requisite jokes about "signing [sic] your life away" which should have gone without saying. LoL. /end sarcasm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is moving day, though I am going to my waxing appointment later this afternoon. I can't abandon routine maintainence! Plus an open weekday time slot is a rarity for me these days, unfortunately. I've already received two telephone calls from co-workers for unimportant matters, which makes me want to kill them. I mean, can't it wait until Monday? I wouldn't dream of calling anybody on their cell or at home on a legitimate day off unless it was an absolute unresolvable emergency. People need to get a life. Including myself. So I'll be off, and probably won't return until I am setup in my new computer room! :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111356591933309076?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111356591933309076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111356591933309076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111356591933309076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111356591933309076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/04/egads.html' title='egads!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111316586613346293</id><published>2005-04-10T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T13:44:26.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sunday funday</title><content type='html'>Last week was just awful, for many reasons, most not worth mentioning in detail. I hate that most of my recent entries gripe about work because I am not a whiny person who hates her job. I don't even like whining, I prefer to take action if something is bothering me, though I'm not above some eloquent bitching every so often. :) Point is, I am relatively young and this is my first true foray into a career, and I'm still learning how to decompress and determine the best outlet for my frustrations. The move is looming and incredibly stressful. I found out someone I am close to might have cancer, which is horrible. My allergies have been out of control lately but that seems so minor in comparison to life-threatening illness. Too bad perspective often comes from such uncomfortable sources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a brighter note, this weekend was actually highly productive. I had my car serviced Friday afternoon, which was LONG overdue. No more worrying it is going to break down due to lack of oil! Saturday I enjoyed a lovely breakfast with my boyfriend at our favorite little hole in the wall (which I am sad to be moving away from soon, we'll have to visit it for sure!). Then I treated us both to medium sized flavored espresso from my favorite coffee venue (he not being a regular caffienated beverage drinker was appalled at the price). After that we began packing and organizing and accomplished a lot. We had yummy bbq for dinner which was the perfect end to the perfect day. This morning I woke up early and caught up on some paperwork, then attended a 2 hour yoga class. The class SUCKED because the teacher was more into showing off her moves than actually imparting some technique on her students but I still consider it a character building experience. I wanted wheatgrass afterwards but the juice place runs a special on Sundays "buy one smoothie, get one free" and hogs who probably already ate breakfast (which a smoothie is supposed to substitute, duh) queue up to order peanutbutterchocolatemightaswellbeamilkshake concotions so I skipped it because I knew I'd kill someone after witnessing the one woman Cirque de Soliel tryout. I came home and applied my frenzied energy into grooming myself. I did a mean mani-pedi if I do say so myself. I still rely on the pros but I like to maintain in between appointments. I'm about to go lay down and take a nap. If I can't fall asleep, I have new things to read, courtesy of my dad and Hearst publications. Whee!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111316586613346293?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111316586613346293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111316586613346293' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111316586613346293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111316586613346293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/04/sunday-funday.html' title='sunday funday'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111265777353497500</id><published>2005-04-04T16:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-04T16:36:13.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>incognito</title><content type='html'>Please tell me I'm not the only one who sets up so many online accounts it is impossible to keep track of them all. I am trying to get extra organized because I'm basically braindead by the end of the week plus I'm moving soon so I don't want any bills to get lost in the mail during that transition. So I attempted to pay my bills online. Now I can't remember which emails I set the accounts up with (I have a couple I use for spammier websites and one for normal use). I can't remember the user name and/or password for the ones that don't prompt you with an email address at sign on. I'm even questioning whether I actually did this for the first time last month or if it was all my imagination! It is ridiculous. And I don't like to use the same password for every account because I am uber-paranoid and fear that someone might hack into one account and then be able to access them all after cracking the one password. I guess I did too thorough a job of covering my tracks because now *I* can't even remember.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an unrelated note, I am planning to unwind with a manicure and pedicure tomorrow evening. I'm going to try to leave work early (which probably won't happen) and just chill with a magazine. I should probably be packing or something but whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111265777353497500?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111265777353497500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111265777353497500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111265777353497500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111265777353497500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/04/incognito.html' title='incognito'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111184515440600612</id><published>2005-03-26T05:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T05:52:34.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>well rested</title><content type='html'>Have you ever gone to sleep so early that you wake up at an obscene hour and it feels like you have insomnia and have stayed up all night anyways? My stupid gym doesn't open until 8am and by then I felt like I had already been up a long time and wasn't motivated to go. Besides, PowerGirls comes on MTV in under half an hour and I have leftover pizza I need to consume before it is overtaken with microscopic yeasts and whatnot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was incredibly productive early in the morning but it all fizzled out by mid-afternoon. Our realtor started being an asshole and it completely ruined my mellowing. Even reading "how to snap out of a bad mood" in my most recent Allure (with Britney on the cover) didn't help. Also, I experienced some sort of food/drink bourne illness, which is probably TMI but it happened and it definitely wasn't fun. I wish my system were a little hardier. When I was a teenager I could drink like a fish but I got major food poisoning twice (once at cheerleading camp and once at a school sponsored event). Nowadays even a couple drinks can leave me feeling queasy, too much espresso upsets my stomach, and I seem to have developed an aversion to brownies (though that might be good news for my posterior region, and I only eat brownies once in a blue moon). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm debating whether I should get back on track or continue to laze around. I am considering driving to see my parents as well and spending the night with them to celebrate Easter tomorrow, but I don't know if I can make it through a sunrise service and mini-high school reunion (my hometown is so small, it combines several churches and has one sunrise service). I hate to rely on unladylike excuses but I do feel hideous thanks to an impending visit from Aunt Flo. I want to bludgeon my tv when I see and hear that Sarah Jessica Parker GAP commercial where she prances around and sings about how much she loves being a girl. Maybe I should stay home. LoL. Or limit my contact with the outside world to petting cute puppies I encounter on my solo cardio circuit later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111184515440600612?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111184515440600612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111184515440600612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111184515440600612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111184515440600612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/well-rested_26.html' title='well rested'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111177013209040002</id><published>2005-03-25T08:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-25T09:02:12.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Viernes Buena</title><content type='html'>No work today! Yay! Unfortunately I'm experiencing some minor health issues so I probably won't make the most of the time, though I was already slightly productive and took care of a few errands and chores. I wanted to go shopping or fit in a hardcore workout this afternoon but it would probably be better if I gave my body a chance to recuperate. Maybe I will be up for it later this weekend. My boyfriend is going out of town to visit his family for Easter, I am looking forward to having the house to myself. To be clear, I greatly enjoy his company, but it is nice to be alone on occasion. I've savored a beverage from my favorite coffee place, I've lined up beauty products to use, and I'm planning to catch up on my fluff tv. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total emotional rollercoaster lately. Seriously considering mood stabilizers even though I think the problems are originating from external sources and not me. At this point I just prefer total numbness to wanting certain people to suffer grievous, deserved bodily harm. I'm finding the saying "misery loves company" is true and there are just people who try very hard to bring other people down to their level, which really sucks. I know I shouldn't take that kind of attitude personally, but I do. How hard is it to treat others the way you would like to be treated? Do these people really think their approach to others is going to make them happier? Maybe I need to develop a thicker skin, but I hate when people are fake or unnecessarily rude. It agitates me. Not to sound like a martyr, but I try to be a good person and am genuinely nice to everyone until it is well-established that other tactics are warranted. I don't expect to please everybody or be everybody's best friend, but I do expect a return of basic courtesy and respect for my generally kind demeanor. I don't take my frustrations out on other people, and I warn/apologize in advance if I'm in a pissy state of mind, so I find it offensive if others do not follow suit. Oh fucking well...guess that would be too much to ask. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends is going to take me to something really neat and exotic (to me) next weekend or the weekend after. I will reflect on it afterwards. :-) I can't think of any more updates at the moment (not that anything I've typed thus far is especially newsworthy but I felt like typing) so I'm going to sign off. Happy Good Friday. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111177013209040002?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111177013209040002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111177013209040002' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111177013209040002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111177013209040002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/viernes-buena.html' title='Viernes Buena'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111114292175475889</id><published>2005-03-18T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T02:48:41.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>yucky sucky</title><content type='html'>Disclaimer: this entry will be filled with even more whining and bitching than average. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called one of my friends I haven't talked to in awhile yesterday and she asked where I've been and I answered "in hell" and I wasn't totally kidding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to buy a house is practically a second job. First you have to research a ton of things - desirable locations, building features, financing options. Then you examine a bunch of mostly undesirable homes, with a few gorgeous ones you can't afford thrown in just for fun. Once you've settled on a particular property, there is even more to take care of. In the meantime, "concerned" people will express how "dangerous" it is to purchase a house if you aren't married. As if marriage is a lifelong guarantee of smooth sailing. Of course after all the paperwork is signed, you then have the pleasure of moving. I don't really mind moving because it is an opportunity to purge junk/unneeded items, the only thing that really worries me is the chances of my belongings being damaged during the process. However, not everybody shares my enthusiasm about moving so I figured I'd throw that in there because when you get down to it, it does fit into the 'job' category.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of work, I feel like I am at my wits end this week. It has been like a roller coaster, punctuated with extreme highs and lows. For starters, I received a semi-promotion (yes, after just a month *curtseybowcurtsey*). On the flip side, I had to take on extra responsibilities when my plate is already pretty full, but I thought it would be a good challenge. However, yesterday, I screwed up big time. I'll admit it, I wasn't paying attention and let something occur that should never have happened. I know it won't be the first time or the last that I make a mistake, but I was doing so well and now this sort of mars it. :-( I was careless, and I could make excuses and say it is because I am so busy and stretched thin, but I could have prevented it. :-( Oh well. I tried to soothe myself with a manicure and pedicure yesterday and it sort of worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up early intending to take a shower, so I'd better scoot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111114292175475889?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111114292175475889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111114292175475889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111114292175475889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111114292175475889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/yucky-sucky.html' title='yucky sucky'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111075787362739842</id><published>2005-03-13T15:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T15:51:47.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>we might as well be cavewomen</title><content type='html'>If I hear another woman utter any of the following, I will personally create a time machine and blast her ass back into the past:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have to check with my husband"&lt;br /&gt;DON'T YOU HAVE A MIND OF YOUR OWN?&lt;br /&gt;"My kids...blah blah blah complaint about kids blah blah kids"&lt;br /&gt;DON'T HAVE THEM IF YOU'RE GOING TO CONSTANTLY COMPLAIN ABOUT THEM&lt;br /&gt;"Here is my email - husband's name (not hers)"&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU'RE A "SAHM" YOU SHOULD HAVE TIME TO CREATE YOUR OWN EMAIL ACCOUNT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glad to see the feminist movement was a giant waste! And that codependency is alive and well. UGH.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111075787362739842?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111075787362739842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111075787362739842' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111075787362739842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111075787362739842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/we-might-as-well-be-cavewomen.html' title='we might as well be cavewomen'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111053864756320175</id><published>2005-03-11T02:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T02:57:27.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MYOB!</title><content type='html'>I absolutely hate when other people put you on the spot with a personal question. The situation is even more uncomfortable if there are more people present when the offensive question is asked. Perhaps my sense of boundaries is higher than "normal" but I prefer not to discuss certain things with other people. I just don't like to "go there."  I also like to maintain a certain distance from colleagues/co-workers...that seems sensible and professional to me...but there have been a few people who try to break down my wall and clamber over and I'm just not interested in sharing details about my life with them. I certainly do not go through each day in a state of aloofness acting haughty towards anybody I encounter, I just think there is a difference between being friendly and being open. For the record, people I categorize as friends in the truest sense have crossed this imaginary line as well. I've always heard the saying "you shouldn't discuss politics or religion in mixed company" but I don't really mind either of those topics, as long as somebody else brings it up first. I relish a healthy debate. I DON'T relish having (what I perceive as) my privacy invaded. When people ask certain things I consider off-limits, they are revealing their motivation and character, and it ain't pretty. I usually respond by bouncing it back and saying "why do you ask?" or "I would rather not say" but occasionally it will catch me so off-guard I might stammer out the (formerly secret) answer. Either way I'll hate myself for it, yet I'll resent it even more that the person asked it to begin with!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111053864756320175?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111053864756320175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111053864756320175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111053864756320175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111053864756320175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/myob.html' title='MYOB!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111041447785017451</id><published>2005-03-09T16:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-09T16:27:57.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hump day</title><content type='html'>Oh, no I diiiinnnn't...I resorted to titling a Wednesday post "hump day." I cringe when I hear people refer to the mid-point of the week as such, but I am feeling too lazy to think of a catchier title. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I received the "I'm a Bitch, Are You?" email many moons ago and it recently resurfaced in my inbox (different sender) but the content is still pretty cool so I thought I would share. For the record, I do not have children (unless you count when my boyfriend acts like a total baby) nor do I plan to have children anytime soon, but I like the phrase about raising the kids right. :-) Not enough of that these days...and upbringing can definitely shape a child's future - for better or worse!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I just say that I am extremely excited because one of the best shows ever comes on tonight. :-) I'm forcing myself to stay awake and watch it, though it is EXTREMELY tempting to take at least a quick catnap because the weather is rainy and cold. Ideal napping ambiance, I ~love~ being lulled to sleep by the rain, and snuggling under the covers when it is chilly. Hopefully I will sleep well tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I'd better go fix myself some tea and gear up for the feature presentation :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111041447785017451?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111041447785017451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111041447785017451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111041447785017451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111041447785017451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/hump-day.html' title='hump day'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111041371137873105</id><published>2005-03-09T16:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-09T16:15:11.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a bitch, are you?</title><content type='html'>When I stand up for myself and my beliefs, they call me a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;When I stand up for those I love, they call me a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;When I speak my mind, think my own thoughts or do things my own way, they call me a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a bitch entails raising my children to be strong people who have a solid sense of personal and social responsibility, who are not afraid to stand up for what they believe in and who love and respect themselves for the beautiful beings they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a bitch means that I am free to be the wonderful creature that I am, with all my own intricacies, contradictions, quirks and beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a bitch means I won't compromise what's in my heart. It means I live my life MY way. It means I won't allow anyone to step on me. When I refuse to tolerate injustice and speak up against it, I am defined as a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same thing happens when I take time for myself instead of being everyone's maid, or when I act a little selfish. It means I have the courage and strength to allow myself to be who I truly am and won't become anyone else's idea of what they think I "should" be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sometimes outspoken, opinionated and determined. I sometimes want something and there is nothing wrong with that! So try to stomp on me, try to douse my inner flame, try to squash every ounce of beauty I hold within me. You won't succeed. And if that makes me a bitch, so be it. I embrace the title and am proud to bear it, for it means that I fear nothing when it comes to my life and those I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send this to all the bitches you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111041371137873105?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111041371137873105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111041371137873105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111041371137873105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111041371137873105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/im-bitch-are-you.html' title='I&apos;m a bitch, are you?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-111007513527341837</id><published>2005-03-05T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T18:12:15.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bodacious</title><content type='html'>Last night I sank into a deep slumber rather early but I did not wake up until 7am this morning, which is like the equivalent of sleeping til noon for most normal (i.e., non early bird) people. Suffice to say it was way more zzz's than I usually catch and I felt extremely refreshed. I enjoyed an awesome espresso based beverage from my favorite coffee shop that I haven't visited in awhile. My boyfriend patiently drove me to 3 stores until I found this obscure shampoo I wanted after reading about it in Allure (interested readers with wavy hair, it is called Creme of Nature). He also tagged along without complaint when I browsed for clothing (hmmm have the pod people taken over his body?) Then we ate lunch at our favorite little restaurant. Oddly by midafternoon I started feeling the burn from yesterday's workout and wow are my legs sore! After we returned home (me hobbling in from the car ha ha!), I caught up with a couple of my friends. When that was over, I ventured back out and treated myself to some new FABULOUS makeup. I actually felt tempted to purchase more than I bought, but I restrained myself. I prefer to space that kind of shopping out and perk myself up every now and then rather than go crazy all in one day...when these new items start losing their luster that will be the time to augment my collection again :-) Plus I only have one face to put it all on! I capped off the day with a surprisingly good dinner - my boyfriend usually cooks for us, but he wasn't home. I turned to my friend Lean Cuisine and heated up one of their new "spa cuisine" meals. My expectations weren't very high because I view most frozen food as a last resort but the taste impressed me enough to write a note to self about stocking up! I promptly ruined the healthiness by eating 2 Girl Scout cookies with a glass of organic milk but I can rationalize that. Girl Scout cookies are only around once a year. I don't go crazy during the holidays, my nutritional habits are fairly good, so it stands to reason I can eat these guilt-free. I'm logical enough to keep my cravings for sweets in check and indulge in desserts sparingly. yay for willpower :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuing with the gush-fest, I feel compelled to share that things in general seem to be improving. Of course it helps that my hormones are leveling off,I've resumed my fitness routine, and cut down on the "junk" food...but other things have fallen into place. I'm definitely more up to speed at work, which is huge in terms of stress reduction. As anyone with prior job experience knows, the initiation period is the roughest. Of course this is my dream job and I wanted to instantly earn respect, so I threw myself into it to prove I belonged there. Naturally, expending that much energy everyday exhausted me. When well-meaning friends inquired about how I liked the job, I was honest and admitted it was draining. Some of their responses were not the supportive comments I expected, a few were downright asshole-ish and said "well, you wanted the job." Ok, I never said I did not want the job or regretted accepting it. I didn't even imply that I disliked it, I spoke in a non-whiny, matter-of-fact tone of voice. I simply stated the truth, that it was wearing me out at the beginning because I was so busy learning how things were done, adjusting to a foreign environment, etc. I've addressed that issue with the individuals in question and it is resolved, but it was eating at me for awhile. I'm sure they were not trying to hurt my feelings, these are the same people who misguidedly suggested I pursue other work while I was waiting for this position to become available...but I think it is possible to take a more tactful approach in certain situations even if unfavorable feedback is warranted. I can be very blunt and "brutally honest" on occassion, but I'm also sensitive enough to realize when I should tread lightly or back off. I didn't expect a pity party when I said I felt tired from my new job, but I also didn't expect such abrasive interactions. At any rate, it is water under the bridge now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, saving the best news for last and hoping I don't jinx myself by sharing this information...my boyfriend dropped some very strong hints about proposing. I've always possessed a very strong desire for a fall wedding, so odds are it would be next year to allow ample time for planning. Anyways, I've been waiting a LONG ass time for my ring - so all I have to say is, it better be gorgeous. ;-) I'm sort of picky so I am not sure if it will be a total surprise or if I'll have final authority on whatever is chosen. Guess we'll see...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-111007513527341837?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/111007513527341837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=111007513527341837' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111007513527341837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/111007513527341837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/bodacious.html' title='bodacious'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110981150404253207</id><published>2005-03-02T16:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T16:58:24.043-08:00</updated><title type='text'>quick like a bunny</title><content type='html'>This will be short and sweet.&lt;br /&gt;~new cycle of ANTM tonight&lt;br /&gt;~speaking of cycle and continuing with the acronym usage, PMS sucks&lt;br /&gt;~the above 2 sentences make me cringe for various reasons but I kind of don't care either&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you were&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110981150404253207?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110981150404253207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110981150404253207' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110981150404253207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110981150404253207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/quick-like-bunny.html' title='quick like a bunny'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110972457875844515</id><published>2005-03-01T16:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-01T16:49:38.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>muy bien</title><content type='html'>I've been drinking cafe con leche as an afternoon "pick me up" and it is like crack. METHAPHORICALLY speaking, I haven't actually tried crack, so I'm just making a general statement. Anyways, I still consider this new addiction better than drinking regular coffee. And damned if I didn't get 2 errands done on my way home instead of the usual tired retreat to bed as early as possible! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110972457875844515?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110972457875844515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110972457875844515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110972457875844515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110972457875844515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/03/muy-bien.html' title='muy bien'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110958782835451882</id><published>2005-02-28T02:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-28T02:50:28.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>looking up</title><content type='html'>My weekend had its ups and downs but it ended on a positive note. I accomplished a lot and enjoyed some much needed relaxation time. I hope it sets the tone for everything :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110958782835451882?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110958782835451882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110958782835451882' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110958782835451882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110958782835451882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/looking-up.html' title='looking up'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110943451511894746</id><published>2005-02-26T07:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-26T08:44:32.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pessimism</title><content type='html'>I tried to do a little trick favored by cognitive/behavioral mental health professionals for improving or reversing a bad mood. In theory, it makes perfect sense, you're supposed to counter every negative thought with a positive thought thus regaining control of your emotions. But I think we all know what bullshit that is if you are in a truly despairing state. Today I couldn't help allowing myself to get sucked into a downward spiral and just wallow in my misery. Here is what is plaguing me: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being confronted with the worst aspects of human nature lately&lt;br /&gt;People getting angry when I don't act as they predicted, relationships suffering&lt;br /&gt;Worries about everything, mainly failing to meet expectations I had for myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I hope I'm not having a nervous breakdown...but something has to give, I can't stay this stressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110943451511894746?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110943451511894746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110943451511894746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110943451511894746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110943451511894746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/pessimism.html' title='pessimism'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110937536273143935</id><published>2005-02-25T15:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-25T15:49:22.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>another week, another...</title><content type='html'>I could fall asleep right now but I am going to force myself to stay awake until at least 9pm. I am still sick but I feel much better compared to last week. I have some unpleasant chores ahead of me tomorrow and Sunday, including the dreaded mail sorting. I receive SO MUCH junk but I prefer to shred credit card offers and whatnot (hey, identity theft is no joke) so I pile it up near my shredder until I can open it and verify that I'm not shredding anything important. I also receive a lot of career related material and I feel obligated to at least skim it to remain current. Then I reserve a pile for fun stuff like catalogs or special offers from retailers, which usually end up being obsolete by the time I get a chance to review them. Finally I have a 'short stack' that I am better about keeping up with, for bills. My boyfriend is even lazier about his mail than I am, he saves even junkier stuff like weekly ads for a supermarket we've never bought groceries from. Once I read about a woman who saved all these bullshit fliers and stuffed them in a huge envelope and mailed them back to the company that sent them. That is awesome if it really happened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I clean my closets frequently but I think I need to do another sweep this weekend. I have a few items that are no longer in the rotation but I couldn't bear to part with them for the longest time, but I started thinking about what a pain it will be to move (given how draining the new job is proving to be, I won't have as much energy as I usually do to organize) and how it would be stupid of me to pack anything unnecessary. I have clothing and accessories I've outgrown, figuratively speaking. I probably also have some books and study materials lurking around that I could part with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple friends, bless their hearts, very tentatively approached me about possibly getting together tomorrow night. We'll see how I feel. A smoky bar probably isn't the best place for a person with respiratory and exhaustion issues. On the other hand, I haven't had a fun night in ages. My parents might visit Sunday, they were going to try to bring my freshly framed diplomas. It would rock if they took me to lunch or dinner, too :-) My recent food consumption is atrocious - heavy on fruit, pasta, and saffron rice - low on protein and veggies. Ok, now my punctuation is getting atrocious so I am going to sign off :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110937536273143935?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110937536273143935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110937536273143935' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110937536273143935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110937536273143935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/another-week-another.html' title='another week, another...'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110882006298827435</id><published>2005-02-19T05:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-19T05:44:19.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>looking forward to later</title><content type='html'>Ah, virtue won out. I decided not to go to yoga. The class also runs on Wednesday evenings, and hopefully I will be feeling better by then. I previously eschewed the Wednesday evening class because it ended at 9pm, which interfered with Project Runway. However, once Austin was booted off (divawho, that is SOOOOOOO awesome your friend spotted him!) I've decided to boycott the remaining episodes of the competition. I'll admit I watched the reunion special, though. Wendy seemed really smug, even when they all took turns attacking her, so I suspect she won the entire thing. Is there no justice in this world?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting some suits and a pair of jeans altered later this morning. People often marvel at my petite size (even more so when they witness how much I consume at mealtimes) but they don't understand how much effort is needed for the wardrobe situation. Despite having freakishly long arms and legs given my proportions, I often need hemline alterations. I occasionally need sleeves shortened or waists nipped in. I adore the seamstress I go to, her prices are so reasonable and she is very friendly. I always leave there with a smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later this afternoon, I am doing something even more special. My boyfriend actually wants to go shopping for himself! This is a rare event. Like, once or twice a year. I loooooooove playing stylist. It is even better when he wears what I pick out (or let him think he picked out after guiding him to it with subtle postive reinforcement) and is satisfied with it. People in flattering attire radiate confidence, and that is my goal when I act as personal shopper for friends and family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110882006298827435?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110882006298827435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110882006298827435' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110882006298827435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110882006298827435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/looking-forward-to-later.html' title='looking forward to later'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110881394728927108</id><published>2005-02-19T03:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-19T05:40:31.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>checking in</title><content type='html'>I'm still here. My second week was not quite as hellacious as the first, until I started coming down with the Ebola virus on Thursday. heh, just kidding, but some of the {cute nose crinkle} members of the public I encounter are not courteous enough to stay home when they are contagious. I should have seen it coming, I was falling asleep before 9pm earlier in the week, but I just chalked that up to work related exhaustion. However, when I sat in my office literally shivering with feverish chills, I knew I was in for a real treat. Of course I am new and haven't accrued any sick days, so I had to "tough it out" on Friday, which actually wasn't that bad because I doped myself out on Benadryl and hyped myself up with Emergen-C, resulting in a cool loopy feeling similar to...um nevermind I'll stop there for fear of incriminating myself. ;-) And yesterday night I solidered on to a belated Valentine's dinner that turned out to be extremely enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, I'm debating whether I should go to yoga, I don't want to be a hypocrite and spread my germs and waste my calories that could be used for healing my body on exercise. Also, I have plenty of other things I could do until my 10:30am appointment. However, I've read that once you manifest symptoms, you are no longer contagious. And I'm not disgustingly snuffling or uncontrollably coughing, at this point it is more of an internal feeling of congestion in my chest. And this particular class is low-key restorative yoga, not dynamic. Plus I rarely wake up with enough time to get ready for it on Saturday mornings and I could put the other stuff off til later. hmmmmm....what will win out, selfishness and vanity or moral righetousness? ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110881394728927108?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110881394728927108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110881394728927108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110881394728927108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110881394728927108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/checking-in.html' title='checking in'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110821542693906763</id><published>2005-02-12T04:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-12T05:37:06.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i survived!</title><content type='html'>I made it through hell week - y'know, those first few days of a new job where you have no idea what the fuck is going on and people kind of test your limits to "haze" you. In the worst moments, I finally understood the phrase "burned out" and feared becoming a professional statistic. Occasionally, before I could spiral further into despair, good things would happen, like nice people helping me or assuring me I was excelling given the new environment and the instant demands of the job. Apparently other people began to perceive me as competent, even though I still worry I will flounder and feel the need to continue proving myself. At least the preceding weekend and beginning of the week was punctuated with pleasant events, like drinks/dining with friends, packages and cards in the mail, and gorgeous flowers on my birthday. Plus my boyfriend, bless his heart, took very good care of me and bought or fixed dinner every night. Good stuff, too - Chinese, pizza, pasta primavera, etc. He got even more in touch with his domestic side and tackled my typical domain of laundry and cleaning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to reward myself by scheduling several pampering, selfish services. :) Actually, the manicure and pedicure will be a necessity, my hands look beat up (didn't have time to polish them myself, or even push my errant cuticles back with Solar Oil, now they are out of control) and my feet could use a little TLC after being confined to stockings and pumps for hours on end. Besides, &lt;a href = "http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/08/being-self-centered.html#comments"&gt;I don't want to feel embarrassed displaying my toes in classes that require bare feet&lt;/a&gt;. I also need eyebrow maintainence in the near future but I might just be lazy and wait til after work one night next week instead of driving across town today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working out with a trainer probably isn't crucial, but I did skip going to the gym for several consecutive mornings in favor of preparing for work. An hour long massage borders on frivilous but I haven't had one in awhile, and some lucky bastards schedule weekly or even daily appointments, so whatever! I'm going to try and squeeze in a little shopping, if I can. I've already indulged in online purchasing earlier in the week, an irresistible clearance sale w/ an extra 20% off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents, who are also on the go quite often, finally penciled in a visit with me and promised to shower me with gifts. They are footing the bill for the framing of all my diplomas so I can hang them in my office (I wanted to see what it looked like before committing to a neutral color scheme, and of course I wanted the frames and matting to match or blend). Among other presents, my mom is bringing homemade birthday cake and icing, which will be delicious! ~sends a virtual slice to divawho?~ We're going to brunch, my favorite meal because you aren't limited to typical breakfast fare and can consume whatever strikes your fancy including alcohol. So all in all, the belated celebration with mi padre y madre should be sobresaliente. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110821542693906763?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110821542693906763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110821542693906763' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110821542693906763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110821542693906763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/i-survived.html' title='i survived!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110800470748161547</id><published>2005-02-09T19:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-09T19:05:07.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>boo hoo</title><content type='html'>I'm officially boycotting my once favorite show, Project Runway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My gay boyfriend was unfairly eliminated, in favor of a no talent contestant who stirred up the drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shame shame SHAME on the Bravo producers, I am sure they had a hand in this miscarriage of justice, with the goal of good tv in mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Austin, if you're reading, I love you! I mentally had 10,000 of your babies when you said "I believe I was put on this earth to give beauty back..." &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110800470748161547?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110800470748161547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110800470748161547' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110800470748161547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110800470748161547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/boo-hoo.html' title='boo hoo'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110739157656324222</id><published>2005-02-02T16:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T16:46:16.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bambambam</title><content type='html'>Maybe this is just how things go down in MY world, but it always seems like stuff happens in rapid succession. I can be bored, or minding my own business, and then out of nowhere all these issues simultaneously demand my attention. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I'm re-reading what I've typed and I hope I don't sound like a pompous asshole who thinks she is SOOOOO important with all these pressing concerns, because I definitely don't. I guess I'm just musing, that the cliche "when it rains, it pours" rings true for me. Of course I can multi-task because that is one of the blessings of being an OCD type-a personality and loving the ritual of organization, but sometimes you actually have to *gasp* wait and see how something will pan out. Or *double gasp* you have no control whatsoever over the outcome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being occupied is good - to a point. I hope the pace levels off soon, I don't want to end up "with exhaustion" like celebrities claim. I adore ~possibility~ but it is a double-edged sword because it simultaneously stresses me out. For example, I'm excited about my job, but I hope I don't fuck up and embarrass myself. I'm happy to be looking for a house, but what if I buy one and a better property comes along? My b/f is probably going to propose soon (add "intuitive" to my KSAOs) and even after a few years I'm wondering if that is the right step. And if I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; take that step, I'll have to add wedding planning to my already overflowing list of tasks to complete. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, signing off before I psych myself out even further. Going to throw this nervous energy into cooking, which is enough to make anybody laugh, including me :-) Though I think it would be pretty difficult to mangle black beans and saffron rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110739157656324222?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110739157656324222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110739157656324222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110739157656324222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110739157656324222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/02/bambambam.html' title='bambambam'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110701568233354782</id><published>2005-01-29T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-29T08:22:06.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>you're HIRED! </title><content type='html'>*hand gesture* Who needs to be an apprentice of the Donald? Not me! :) I will probably continue to do "freelance" work on the side as my schedule permits because it is so lucrative, but thankfully it will no longer be my main source of income. I can't divulge any more information than that at the moment, confidentiality blah blah blah. Suffice to say my weekend started off nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back on topic, I think the first season of any reality show is usually the best. I never watched Survivor or American Idol after the first season. Real World has gone downhill. I don't even bother with copycats/spinoffs (The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, Super Nanny, etc.) Like most movies, the sequel (or trilogy, or um, quadogy? etc.) just doesn't deliver. For instance, I thought Scream was pretty cool but the 2nd and 3rd weren't as good. I am not into 'fantasy' type movies like The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter or Star Wars so maybe those are the exception and get progressively better because they always seem to generate a lot of buzz. Even the Meet the Parents sequel fell a little flat, because it relied on a bunch of gags from the original.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;will&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; tune in for next season if they bring it back? Project Runway! I love PR like a fat kid loves cake. I'd probably watch a spinoff of it on a different station, too. It is interesting to see the designers create garments in such challenging circumstances. I do wish that one episode would give them ample time to complete one challenge, to show who is a procrastinator and scrambles to finish by the deadline and who uses their days wisely. But of course that would never happen because they have a production schedule to adhere to. I also wish they wouldn't eliminate designers every week and would base their score off everyone's final portfolio. ha ha, this is becoming diva's PR diaries lately, but I can't help it. The show consumes me, dammit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110701568233354782?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110701568233354782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110701568233354782' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110701568233354782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110701568233354782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/youre-hired.html' title='you&apos;re HIRED! &lt;hand gesture&gt;'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110667591322008621</id><published>2005-01-25T09:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-25T09:58:33.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>mcwinner</title><content type='html'>Yay! I skimmed the recently announced &lt;a href = "http://www.oscars.org/77academyawards/noms.html"&gt;Oscar nominations&lt;/a&gt; and saw that "Super Size Me" is in the running for Best Documentary. This really was an awesome movie and reinforced why I have avoided McDonald's like the plague for almost a decade (which is a long time given I am only 24!). I admired Morgan Spurlock's huge commitment to showing how truly disgusting a Big Mac is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you prefer the written word to motion pictures, I recommend "Fast Food Nation" by Eric Schlosser. Similar content in a book format. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110667591322008621?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110667591322008621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110667591322008621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110667591322008621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110667591322008621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/mcwinner.html' title='mcwinner'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110658947014158352</id><published>2005-01-24T09:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-24T09:57:50.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>IMDB rulez</title><content type='html'>Movies that are utterly silly, but worth seeing if you are totally bored or in need of some potty type humor. Normally I prefer a mature plotline, but the following campy films have managed to tickle my funny bone: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Eurotrip&lt;br /&gt;-Dodgeball&lt;br /&gt;-Dumb &amp; Dumber&lt;br /&gt;-Wayne's World&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you like a more refined type of satire:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Zoolander&lt;br /&gt;-Clueless&lt;br /&gt;-Legally Blonde&lt;br /&gt;-My Cousin Vinny&lt;br /&gt;-Mean Girls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would rather see true cinematic brilliance, I recommend the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Run Lola Run (this got a shoutout in VH1 "I love the 90's Part Deux btw)&lt;br /&gt;-Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind&lt;br /&gt;-Traffic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you like to cry:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What Dreams May Come&lt;br /&gt;-The Hours&lt;br /&gt;-My Best Friend's Wedding&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110658947014158352?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110658947014158352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110658947014158352' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110658947014158352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110658947014158352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/imdb-rulez.html' title='IMDB rulez'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110623843657167534</id><published>2005-01-20T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-20T08:32:36.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>work it girl, do a twirl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 10px; MARGIN-LEFT: 10px"&gt;&lt;a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/3577965/"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://photos2.flickr.com/3577965_b421ac48db_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="MARGIN-TOP: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/3577965/"&gt;pic_runway_ep6_austin&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/10052440@N00/"&gt;fabdiva&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This charming confection was crafted by my hero, Austin Scarlett of &lt;a href ="http://www.bravotv.com/Project_Runway/"&gt;ProjectRunway&lt;/a&gt; fame. It is modeled by the lovely Melissa, who looks far more mature than 16!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I concede that Austin's antics were slightly over the top the past couple episodes, but he more than redeemed himself on last night's show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From schmoozing effortlessly with the Page 6 reporter, to capering on the dance floor with Robert, to making himself prettier than Wendy, to faux-fighting with Jay, Austin is unarguably the best.&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110623843657167534?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110623843657167534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110623843657167534' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110623843657167534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110623843657167534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/work-it-girl-do-twirl.html' title='work it girl, do a twirl'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110614638304310404</id><published>2005-01-19T06:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-19T07:11:51.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>discontinued*</title><content type='html'>I have this strange tendency to develop a penchant for products that end up being taken off the market. In hindsight, as I composed this list, I realized I'm probably better off without some of these items and maybe my taste isn't as refined as I thought. Some of them I've outgrown, some are plain unhealthy, but I clearly recall the panic I felt when I first had to seek a replacement for each one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FOOD PRODUCTS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sizzlean&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - ah, no childhood pancake breakfast was complete without this meat.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Taco Bell's bacon taco&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - this tasted better than it sounds...and I'd get straight up bacon in the tortilla shell, no other filler.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Checker's Western Bacon Champ&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - a hamburger patty with slices of bacon, onion rings, and barbeque sauce. Those teases at Checkers brought it back a couple summers ago then took it away again.&lt;br /&gt;(apparently I have a bacon obsession)&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Claussen dill relish&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - perfectly chopped pickles, not your regular yucky watery relish.&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ragu Chicken Tonight sauces&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - The Cacciatore and Country French, my dad would prepare the former and my boyfriend's mom the latter and each were shockingly tasty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BEAUTY PRODUCTS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bath &amp; Body Works is a double offender - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peach Nectar lotion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sparkling Green Apple shower gel&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I probably wouldn't use either now but it sure stung at the time!&lt;br /&gt;2. Clinique is also a repeat perpetrator - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chubby Sticks&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Liquid Lipcolor w/ SPF 15&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Yeah, fuck you Clinique. Your bonuses suck now, too! Why do we have to spend almost twice as much for a gift with purchase of the exact same cosmetics you made years ago? I'm glad I started to branch off from Clinique and discovered other brands, though.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Revlon Streetwear line&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - decent knockoffs of pricier trendy cosmetics in colors and finishes best left to teenagers, and the highlight of many an otherwise undesirable trip to Wal-Mart during college. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CLOTHING&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gap lowrise flare jeans and flare khakis&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - the khakis were part of my uniform at one point, so it really sucked when Gap stopped selling those. The jeans I don't mind so much because I like to mix it up with different designers, except I'm hardpressed to cite any other designer who makes jeans I don't have to hem.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Esprit&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - ok, technically this line was yanked, then resurfaced via website, but I don't think that counts. And it is a shame because their clothes fit me PERFECTLY and were nice quality and I miss the instant gratification of going to a store to try them on and purchase them on the spot.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Victoria's Secret jelly boobie strapless bra&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - sorry I don't know the real style name/number, because the writing on the tag is now illegible *sniffle* The Very Sexy strapless bra doesn't cut it, ok? It gives my chest a funny shape and isn't as comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Target Swell underwear&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - Cynthia Rowley, if you're reading this, please make more! Pretty please? Such cute patterns, soft cotton, in 2-packs for my convenience, an absolute steal. If you've graduated to a fancier manufacturer, I'll follow you there...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now before you start feeling totally sorry for me, I should admit my weird preferences have worked surprisingly in my favor a couple times. I fell in love with &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Starbucks Toffee Nut lattes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, which were a seasonal item, but now they are always available. Likewise, I used to loathe Panera, until I tried a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Smokehouse Turkey Panini&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Of course I prepared for a letdown because this particular sandwich was supposed to remain on just Panera's autumn menu, but it has become a permenant fixture. I hope I didn't jinx myself by sharing that info.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;*Inspired by&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.jodiverse.com/2005/01/17/a_stitch_in_time.html"&gt;the lovely Jodi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110614638304310404?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110614638304310404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110614638304310404' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110614638304310404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110614638304310404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/discontinued.html' title='discontinued*'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110554501955986527</id><published>2005-01-12T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T07:50:19.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my day is made</title><content type='html'>This morning before I left the house, I could not find my prescription sunglasses. I'm pretty organized and they are usually in one of two places, so I couldn't imagine where else they could be. I started rummaging all over, running up and down the stairs, even venturing out to my car for a quick search. My patience wore thin and it was still pretty early so I decided "fuck it" and donned my regular glasses, even though I knew the sun would be so bright later it would make me squint uncomfortably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped to soothe my nerves with a vanilla soy latte. Prior to exiting my vehicle, I decided to explore my center console one last time, and unearthed my precious shades from under a mini stack of CDs. whee! I'm not sure how I managed to miss seeing them initially but I was thrilled. I began worrying I had left them at the gym and somebody stole them. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;know they're prescription but theives would just see them as cute unattended eyewear and maybe not understand the function until later if ever. You might think I'm paranoid - but this is the same gym where someone stole my drugstore face cleanser, even though most people who go there could afford whatever skincare they desire. At any rate, I was so relieved and thrilled I wouldn't have to go through the hassle of replacing them. I was also happy I could put my concerns about premature wrinkling and crows feet due to excessive sun exposure aside for now. Honestly, I marvel about these sunglasses every time I wear them. My vision isn't terrible and I really just need it corrected for distance (driving, movie screens, blackboards) so they are perfect for morning jaunts to the gym (where I prefer to see everything in soft focus) or when I need to run a quick errand and can't be bothered to fiddle with my contacts. It really IS all about the little things. Such a good feeling to find something you thought was never to be seen again! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110554501955986527?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110554501955986527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110554501955986527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110554501955986527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110554501955986527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/my-day-is-made.html' title='my day is made'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110546422670329408</id><published>2005-01-11T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-11T09:23:46.703-08:00</updated><title type='text'>insufferable</title><content type='html'>My last post regarded whether or not one should bite one's tongue when confronted with something distasteful. I think the deciding factor (to speak up) was the fact I may never see the person my comment was directed at again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is harder to make the choice if you know you will encounter the person repeatedly. For instance, I'm sure we all know a friend-of-a-friend who is a total asshole, and your friend seems to be oblivious to that fact despite considerable supporting evidence. In that situation, unless you have major balls or relish causing drama, you probably should silently endure the person. After all, they aren't technically YOUR friend and if you're lucky you might only be forced to mingle with this person in mixed company where other nicer souls can distract you. Who knows, maybe every now and then the asshole is tolerable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what happens when the asshole does something to piss your friend off? You risk alienating the friend if you commiserate and say something along the lines of "I always thought that person was an asshole!" because what happens if those two make up? Then YOU look like the jerk, even if it is the truth, your friend will remember and wonder if you are two faced and secretly hate everybody. At the same time, you kind of want your friend to see the light and realize how horrible the other person truly is. Sometimes bitches just need a smackdown, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically either way you are screwed. You can deal with the asshole OR look like one yourself. Two very unsatisfying options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110546422670329408?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110546422670329408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110546422670329408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110546422670329408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110546422670329408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/insufferable.html' title='insufferable'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110529935688804803</id><published>2005-01-09T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-09T11:36:10.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>rewind</title><content type='html'>Do you ever say something and wish you hadn't even bothered? Even when you know you were right to speak up? *rolls eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110529935688804803?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110529935688804803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110529935688804803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110529935688804803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110529935688804803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/rewind.html' title='rewind'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110487464131831848</id><published>2005-01-04T13:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T13:37:21.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my new gay boyfriend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/2946287/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos2.flickr.com/2946287_b0e6529f99_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/2946287/"&gt;austin&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/10052440@N00/"&gt;fabdiva&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Oh how I love him! Hopefully he wins Project Runway. Austin's designs thus far, though not all something I would wear, have been extremely creative. I also like a handful of the other desingers, but none match him in personality. *swoons*&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110487464131831848?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110487464131831848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110487464131831848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110487464131831848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110487464131831848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2005/01/my-new-gay-boyfriend.html' title='my new gay boyfriend'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110315218196577961</id><published>2004-12-15T15:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T15:09:41.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>furniture</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/2237016/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.flickr.com/2237016_56acdcf64c_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/2237016/"&gt;bench&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/10052440@N00/"&gt;fabdiva&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I really want this bench. The designer is Robert Bristow of http://www.ralphpucci.com but I could probably build it myself.&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110315218196577961?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110315218196577961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110315218196577961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110315218196577961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110315218196577961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/12/furniture.html' title='furniture'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110277084519194837</id><published>2004-12-11T05:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-11T05:14:05.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>happy holidays!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://weatherpixie.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img height="175" alt="The WeatherPixie" src="http://weatherpixie.com/displayimg.php?place=KTPA&amp;trooper=22&amp;amp;amp;type=F" width="124" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110277084519194837?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110277084519194837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110277084519194837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110277084519194837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110277084519194837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/12/happy-holidays.html' title='happy holidays!'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110277284076626984</id><published>2004-12-10T05:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-11T05:47:20.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>catch up</title><content type='html'>I noticed that I am kind of a bi-polar blogger. I post when things are really bad or especially good. If I'm steadily busy I don't really have time to post. Or nothing is new and I can't think of anything to write. I also took an involuntary break recently when my laptop experienced technical difficulties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am sick. My boyfriend complained a bunch of people at his work were manifesting signs of a cold (for the love of God, stay HOME if you are contagious) but I thought we'd be safe because he is healthy as a horse. Seriously, he is one of THOSE people. Though my overall lifestyle is &lt;em&gt;much&lt;/em&gt; healthier than my boyfriends, my immune system is a little more delicate and dainty. I have seasonal allergies (which really suck...I grew up in a rural area surrounded by plenty of greenery and never had them until I moved to my college town which had TONS of pine trees...my car would be yellow due to the liberal gusts of pine pollen in the air) so during certain times of year I end up sniffling, feeling frail, and hating nature. Unfortunately, my boyfriend fell ill from whatever bug was circulating. I actually felt fine (and honestly a little smug) the first couple days he was miserable. Then as he started feeling better, guess who started to feel worse? mmm hmm. I've been drinking tons of tea, it seems to help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, aside from that, all is well. I'm busy with work, I am still house-hunting, and there is no drama going on. Next week I might hostess a get-together, if I am up to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110277284076626984?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110277284076626984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110277284076626984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110277284076626984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110277284076626984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/12/catch-up.html' title='catch up'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110123342421927256</id><published>2004-11-23T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-23T10:14:29.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>eau de ewwww</title><content type='html'>Dear Ladies Who Get Ready in my Gym's Locker-room,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm sure you all think you smell fresh as a daisy, you don't. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your collective fragrances make me gag. There is literally a haze in the air from your various offensive scents. Though the cloud of Aussie Scrunch Spray takes me back to my middle school years, I still consider it air pollution. Plus it doesn't do much for your hair except make it look shellacked and smell strongly of faux grapes. Invest in better hair product(s), please. And know that you don't have to pile it on, haven't you ever heard the phrase "less is more"? If you're leaving a trail in your wake that assaults my olfactory senses, you might want to tone it down a notch. Plenty of lovely, subtle perfumes and beauty products are out there - and if you can afford a gym membership, you probably have room in your budget to spring for some. Just a thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;fabdiva&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110123342421927256?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110123342421927256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110123342421927256' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110123342421927256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110123342421927256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/11/eau-de-ewwww.html' title='eau de ewwww'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110115968351236380</id><published>2004-11-22T13:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-22T13:41:23.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'>brokedown palace</title><content type='html'>I was out of town for a week. When I returned, my laptop's hard-drive decided it would be fun to pretend to die. Probably punishment for leaving it alone so long. Luckily my computer whiz b/f managed to resuscitate it long enough for me to transfer my important files to a Zip disk. Then we tried to purchase a replacement hard-drive at CompUSA, which turned out to be sheer torture. Several employees were in plain sight, but we had to wait 20 minutes for one particular representative to help us, because apparently none of the others who were standing around could do his particular task. 20 minutes behind a couple with a child that was hacking like he had black lung disease - oh and did I mention I am a huge germophobe? I was anxious to see what specialized services this man would be performing for us, after such a long wait. When the representative finally directed his attention to us, all he did was call to the back for a part, and we waited another 20 minutes for the part to make its way to the front of the store.  Unfortunately, the connector was the wrong size and it would not fit. So it was a total waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adding to the fun, our refrigerator conked out. I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;, it is like our house had some kind of electromagnetic force field surrounding it! Contact the Exorcist. Of course that means we had to transfer what we could into 2 ice chests and throw the rest out. We left a voicemail with the property managers and our call went unreturned all weekend. I called first thing this morning and spoke with somebody who claimed they never received our message. Nice. They did send someone to fix the refrigerator, and it is running again (oh, better go catch it, har har) BUT even some of the stuff we tried to 'save' in the cooler went bad. The ice melted slightly and made some stuff waterlogged and generally gross. I am beyond irritated because on more than one occassion in the past I mentioned how old our refrigerator is, and how they should really consider installing a newer model before it goes kaput for good. The light and the ice machine weren't even operating when we moved in here three years ago! My mom said the owners of our unit are just hoping to sell it without having to put any more money into it, but I think that is really shitty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't enjoy feeling outrage over the various ethical violations I encounter. I am sad people even behave improperly in the first place. Why can't everybody act right? But what makes me even MORE upset is when I run an offense by a normal, uninvolved person - and there is not even a smidgen of righteous indignation demonstrated on my behalf. Principles, people. Has the world misplaced its senses of justice and fairness? Society will merge into anarchy if everybody lacks morals. I'm not one of those freaks who believes the world should be Pleasantville, because I'm a realist and understand it is impossible as we are all human and make mistakes and nobody is perfect (including myself). However, I think it is pretty scary when people tolerate unacceptable behavior without question. I hope these aren't evidence of the collapse of mankind, like the way my laptop made weird clicking noises or the stuff in the freezer door started to feel a little warmer than usual were indicators shit was about to collapse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110115968351236380?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110115968351236380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110115968351236380' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110115968351236380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110115968351236380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/11/brokedown-palace.html' title='brokedown palace'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-110116098152524953</id><published>2004-11-22T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-22T14:03:01.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>star struck</title><content type='html'>Ok, call me a huge geek, but sometimes I wonder what I would do if I encountered a famous person. I would HOPE that I can be the play it cool type and just say "hey [insert name]" ever so nonchalantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it is a celebrity I am a fan of, I might try to take it to the next level and say something insightful about the person's work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I would gush and scream and engage in any other form of hysterics, but that isn't a guarantee it wouldn't happen. Because I do like to give credit where credit is due and voice my admiration for people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, maybe I would sit there tongue-tied, in awe, not uttering a peep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-110116098152524953?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/110116098152524953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=110116098152524953' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110116098152524953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/110116098152524953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/11/star-struck.html' title='star struck'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-109959332909723544</id><published>2004-11-04T10:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-20T07:35:47.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>girl power?</title><content type='html'>Maybe I am projecting my trust issues and progressive viewpoints here, but I do not see how some women can be so co-dependent. I could never rely solely on a man to make all my decisions for me. It might be nice to have a sugar daddy but I am not sure I would feel comfortable receiving an allowance of sorts indefinitely...what if I became accustomed to the lavish lifestyle and it was pulled out from under me by forces beyond my control, like Catherine Zeta-Jones in the movie &lt;em&gt;Traffic&lt;/em&gt;? I am mildly appalled when women utter phrases like "I'll have to check with my husband" or "I'm a homemaker" or "my job is being a stay at home mom." Ok, so does that mean working moms have TWO jobs? Last time I checked, motherhood is a lifestyle choice, not a job. It is a responsibility and plenty of work, but I still wouldn't classify it as a JOB. I don't have anything against traditional families, but in this day and age it is a little sad to see women step into these roles without even considering or exploring an alternative. I am not a feminist per se, but I'm frustrated when I see people perpetuate gender stereotypes and cast away their independence for a house, car, kids, and stuff. If I opt to have children, I hope I will be a good parent, but parenting won't ever be the only thing I live for. Call me selfish but I have other goals I want to achieve for myself, and I need intellectual adult stimulation during my day or I'd go loopy from sheer boredom. When I cook dinner for my boyfriend (a rare occasion!) I certainly put Martha Stewart worthy effort in and hope he enjoys it, but I'm not doing it because I *have* to. I never worry he is going to yell at me because I haven't held up my end of the bargain and kept the house immaculate while he is at work all day paying the bills. And of course I need to consult with him about plans from time to time, and we discuss purchases or finances every now and then, because we live together - but I don't ask his permission for every move I make. I realize all relationships come with tacit trade-offs, and some of these are not wrong just because I do not understand them or would not put myself in that position. I consider myself sensitive, but I am also very strong willed and I couldn't imagine compromising my identity for anybody else. It just seems like an invalidation of your soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edited to add...in case the subsequent comment wasn't clear...this whole diatribe was triggered when I received an email from a friend who shares an email account with her husband (who she married fresh out of high school because she got knocked up, but that is a whole other rant) because she "never found the time to make her own email address." Girl's husband is in the military and she doesn't work or go to school, so it would seem to me she'd be extra bored even accounting for the child she basically raises by herself...but whatever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-109959332909723544?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/109959332909723544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=109959332909723544' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/109959332909723544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/109959332909723544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/11/girl-power.html' title='girl power?'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7672768.post-109948624112310902</id><published>2004-11-03T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-03T04:50:41.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>belated campaigning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/1237311/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.flickr.com/photos/1237311_85868a4702_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10052440@N00/1237311/"&gt;choosecarbs&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/10052440@N00/"&gt;fabdiva&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7672768-109948624112310902?l=fabdiva.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/feeds/109948624112310902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7672768&amp;postID=109948624112310902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/109948624112310902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7672768/posts/default/109948624112310902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fabdiva.blogspot.com/2004/11/belated-campaigning.html' title='belated campaigning'/><author><name>fabdiva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
