Friends

Discovering friendships after high school or college can be somewhat difficult. At least in high school a person is assigned a group of friends for at least four years, whether or not you actually liked the people is a different story. And in college, I joined a sorority and had instant friendships that lasted until I graduated. After college, Donny and I decided that we wanted to do a little exploration and get out of our respective home states for a while (which are Montana and Colorado). Little did we know that we were moving to a place in which it is virtually impossible to meet people that actually have not bought a part on their body let alone run into anyone down to earth.

So, I have one of my very best friends coming to San Diego all the way from Florida! I'm so excited to see her and really have some good girl time (not porn style or anything). I never realized how important is was that a woman develop good friendships with other women. I miss doing all the things that we used to do...well almost everything.

Our friendship came about when we were in middle school, which was the worst time of my entire life for me. I kept getting taller and taller and basically, I had no boobs, which hasn't changed actually.

Anyway, my friend and I would definitely get into too much trouble together. In high school, when one of our birthdays rolled around we would go to the mall and ask each other what the other wanted. Sounds normal right? Well, then we would shoplift the item and move onto the next store and continue until we were satisfied with our "purchases."

Bad, bad idea. Let's just say I ended up learning my lesson.

I haven't seen her in two years and I have that nervous excitement that has seemed to permanently settle in my stomach and throat. So naturally, when she comes in, we will drink wine and get drunk. Then we won't have to deal with each other being nervous. We can just enjoy our drunkenness...for a whole week.

alleluia, praise the Lord, it's Friday!!!

Ahhh...yes today is Friday. The only day in an adult's otherwise redundant routine, where a person actually has a reason to be happy. If you detect a hint of pessimism in my writing you're a freakin' genius.

Sundays are depressing because I know that I have to wake up early the next day, dress in business attire and do my hair and make up. Not that I don't enjoy looking nice, it's just the matter of knowing that I have do so. Mondays suck entirely, especially if I decide to drown my sorrows in wine the evening before. Tuesdays feel like the week is lasting forever, but by the time Wednesday rolls around, I start to feel more optimistic about the work week. Thursday is actually a breeze because I'm franticly attempting to get everything done before Friday morning. Then there's Friday. Oh, it is the best day of the week. I woke up this morning knowing that this was the last day of the week in which the blasted alarm would startle me out of my beauty sleep.

Do people actually "work" on Fridays if they can help themselves? By around 2 p.m. I am a complete mongo (retard). My brain turns to mush and all I can think about is the fact that I do not have to go back to work for two whole days! The mongo factor is multiplied during the summer months in San Diego. I work a 2 blocks from the ocean so I'm basically distracted half the time by thoughts of surfing and enjoying an ice cold beer on the beach.

What am I doing this weekend you ask? I have a very fun Saturday planned in which I will run to Nordstrom's with my husband to pick up some shoes he ordered, go grocery shopping and, since I'm feeling particularly wicked, I think I'll even get the oil changed in my car. I'm now going to go throw up and lay in the fetal position in the bathroom until I can go home.

On a brighter note, does anyone watch the T.V. show, "Hooking Up?" It's about singles living in Manhattan and dating via the Internet. It's fucking hilarious and it's on Thursday nights.

Am I crazy?

I've always considered myself a little eccentric, but never crazy...that is until I decided that I wanted to switch careers and my husband told me I was weird. People graduate from high school and then go to college or receive special training. I understand those stages; however my husband informed me that our next "stage" in life was when we are 60 years old! His belief is that people aren't supposed to thoroughly enjoy their careers because the career provide a mean to do the things that people do like to do. For instance, going to happy hour, on a weekend trip or planning a vacation. I don't buy it.

What kind of people stay in a cubicle for 25 years? Seriously. If you've ever seen the movie, "Office Space," that's the kind of hell that I worked in. I started out in that company as a secretary and what made it worse was I had a boss who was a born again Christian (not that there's anything wrong with that). On a Friday night, he kept me until 6:15 p.m. talking about how Jesus saved his life and how He would save mine too. Can you say human resources issue waiting to happen? I apparently was also his dog. I would be sent to fetch his lunch...from his freakin' car in the parking lot and he would ask it in front of a room full of people. Talk about feeling like a piece of meat. I also had to take lunch when he took lunch so I could be at his disposal. He was a cheap, ignorant asshole.

My point is, why should I have to stay in that particular company, business or industry? Isn't the most important thing that I'm gainfully employed? So, this brings me to my current dilemma. I like where I work and the people that I work with, but I do not want to be a lifetime banker. It is completely fine for those people who have found their niche and what they excel in to stay in the same career. But I don't want to and more importantly, I don't have to! If I want to start taking pictures of snails for a living, I should be able to...without catching any shit!

The way I look at it is, if I'm happy then my husband is happy. If I'm unhappy, my husband wants to kill me. Wouldn't he rather me be happy?

Terrorism...it sucks bad

Basically, terrorists are the scum of the earth. I have a great idea for all terrorists or people considering becoming terrorists...get a day job! Become a productive member of society! I know it's a crazy idea, but the thought of innocent people being the butt of some religious statement or otherwise makes me positively disgusted. I know that this is a touchy subject, but the more we avoid things that people uncomfortable, the more we sink into the depths of ignorance.

Think I needed to get that off of my chest? Shall we move onto something less political? What do you think about Hillary Clinton (or as I like to call her, Satan)? Satan will be running for office when Bush's term ends in 2008. I realize that there are a lot of Satan lovers out there, but let's face the music people! I am a woman who is independent, gainfully employed and a regular at the voting booths; however this country would be worse off with a woman as President, especially if Satan was to miraculously buy, barter, and/or bed her way into the White House (again!... or was that Bill?).

Once politicians scramble into the realm of a presidential election race, most morals, ethics and consciences disappear like underwear on a prom date. Speaking of underwear coming off, let's talk about Bill Clinton. I don't have a nickname for Bill. I don't think he's inherently evil like his wife. However, it is time for the Democratic Party to find a new poster boy, but are democrats really desperate enough to lay their hopes of the future on Satan? I know John Kerry didn't work out so well, but there's got to be someone else on deck.

I know what to talk about now...the war! Living in San Diego, I have run into many men that have served in the Middle East, but they really don't look like men until they come back from the war. It's amazing to me that 18 and 19 year olds are fighting an enemy they can't see. I've seen them in the airports getting ready to depart for their tour and I've seen others who have just returned. It's amazing how naive and tender they look before they leave and how weary and disillusioned they are when they come back. Just listening to them tell the story of part of their journey warms up the tear ducts. They have given up so much and their reverence and strength make me proud to call myself an American.

Okay, okay. I'm off of my soap box now!