catheroominations

The post below was written by an anonymous blogger participating in Blog Share 3.0.. I too have posted an anonymous post…somewhere out there. I enjoyed the opportunity to say whatever I wanted to and not be held accountable. During the last Blog Share, although I did not participate (procrastination gets me every time!) I found a lot of new feeds to add to my Google Reader…thus contributing further to my procrastination.

Here’s a topic that I LOVE, but never get to blog about (ok, not NEVER, but RARELY, and even then it’s not a good idea): Ex-boyfriends.

Ex-boyfriend observation #1-I think about my exes sometimes, as I think most people do, but I rarely, if ever, picture them thinking about ME. If they do, I wonder what they remember, and what they picture me up to these days.

Ex-boyfriend observation #2-Lately, I have noticed that several of my exes have married girls who are, well, they are the ANTI-ME. Like, they are teachers and church ladies and high maintenance sorority girls and such. What does this MEAN? What I’m AFRAID it means, is that I am not what many guys consider “the kind of girl you marry”. And, okay, fine, that may have been true at certain points in my life, but I’m normal now! Pinky swear! Anyway. It makes me wonder. TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS I’M SORT OF OBSESSING OVER THIS!

Ahem. So, I thought it might be fun to talk about the Key Players, as long as we’re being all anonymous:

Relationship Failure #1: My high school sweetheart. We started dating after he took my BEST FRIEND to prom, while I went with another guy, and we ended up making out on the dance floor. Um. Oops. I was a freshman, and he was a junior. He was my first love, my first sexual experience, my first everything. I loved him like crazy, and our relationship was sweet and wonderful and everything you would hope for in a first love. When he graduated, he joined the Air Force, and I was CRUSHED. We dated long-distance for two more years, until I went off to college, where I broke up with him OVER EMAIL. I feel like shit about that to this day. Years later, when I found out he was getting married, I called him crying, and told him how sorry I was. He said, “Oh, sweetie. I couldn’t wait for you forever!”. Knife. To. Heart. I still have all the cards and letters he gave me in my hope chest at my mother’s house. I haven’t gotten up the nerve to throw them away.

Relationship Failure #2: My long-term college boyfriend. We dated about a year and a half. I was never in love with him, looking back, but he was exactly what I needed at the time. When we met, I was, uh, kind of wild. I was “sowing my oats” OR WHATEVER after dating my high school sweetheart for so long. Anyway, I was going a little off the rails. We met at a bar, and when he asked me out, I thought he was just another guy in line for a hookup or meaningless whatever. But, during our date, we drank and talked for hours and he revealed that he was deeply religious and also was a VIRGIN. Whoa. But, I liked to think that my Type was that I Had No Type, so we continued to date. What I loved about him was that he was a genuine Good Guy and a true gentleman. He adored me, and treated me like a queen, and valued and respected me, and taught me to do the same at a time in my life when I was most definitely not headed down that path. Unfortunately, we had a lot of differences in upbringing and politics and general philosophy, and so we fought a lot. We finally had an amicable break-up, after both of us realized we were never really meant to be together, but I will never forget how he taught me that you can care deeply about someone who is dramatically different from you. The last time I saw him, I was with my new boyfriend, and when they ran into each other at the bar, he said to New BF, “She’s a great girl”. He didn’t have to do that, but that was totally Him.

Relationship Failure #3: My first serious boyfriend after college. I consider him my first Adult Love. I fell hard and fast for him when we met during a week of national training for the company we both worked for (he worked in an office across the country). Three weeks later, he came to visit me, and we spent a whirlwind, this-is-out-of-the-movies week together, from which we emerged officially “dating”. Our relationship is the closest I have ever come to a love-at-first-sight situation, and our chemistry was unbelievable. I adored him and worshipped the ground he walked on, and I had done the long-distance thing before, so I wasn’t worried, in the short-term. We saw each other about every other weekend for nearly a year, taking turns flying back and forth and using up all of our money and vacation time on seeing each other. Our relationship was full of huge ups and downs, since I was miserable when we were apart, and practically high on life when we were together. Also, he was from the NYC area, and when I would visit we would see plays and visit restaurants and hang out in all of the greatest cities along the east coast. It was amazing to a small-town girl like me. Predictably, I was so into him that eventually I started talking about moving to be with him. He was into it, at first, and I went to several job interviews that didn’t pan out, but eventually I noticed he was sort of…NOT into it anymore. Still, when he broke up with me one night over the phone, I was shocked and devastated. And heartbroken. He contacted me recently, after several years had gone by, and apologized for what happened. And admitted that although he is now married, he has never felt about anyone the way he felt about me. Sigh. Thanks? I guess? It’s hard to hear from him, but overall I do appreciate his words, and the validation that I didn’t HALLUCINATE what happened between us.

So! There you have it! I feel much better now! Also, all three of these guys are now married to perfectly wonderful women who are most emphatically Not Me. In fact, I daresay their wives ALL fall into the Anti-Me category. It makes me wonder. It really, really does.

Below is a list of blogs participating in Blog Share tomorrow. Happy reading!

Vent Vox
Turn On The Stars
Trudie – Life After AC
Swimming With Sharks
Stefanie Says
Shhh! Librarian-In-Training
Sauntering Soul
Sass Attack
Reflections in the Snow Covered Hills
Red Red Whine
Our Simplicity
One New Duck
Oh My Seven
The Occasional Truth
No Lady
Nancy Pearl Wannabe
Muse On Vacation
Messing With Texas
Melliferous Pants
Lizland
Live Work Dream
Just Below 63
Jonniker
Java Literally
Heidikins
Full of Snark
Face Down
Ex Everything
Everything I Like Causes Cancer
Did I Say That Outloud?
The Daily Tannenbaum
The Coconut Diaries
Citystreams
Catheroominations
Bright Yellow World
Breath Smiles Tears
And You Know What Else
Alyndabear
3 Carnations

On Wednesday I will not be me.

Well, I will be me, but I won’t be here. On this blog. I will be posting anonymously somewhere else, and someone who shall remain nameless will post anonymously here, as part of Blog Share. Please come back then and see what my guest poster has to say. Also, please note that the words and views expressed on Catheroominations on Wednesday July 16 will not be mine. Unless my anonymous poster says something exactly like what I would say, and feels just what I would feel. In that case, well, you’ll just be a bit confused, won’t you?

We will return to our regularly scheduled programming on Thursday the 17th, where I will regale you with more tales of Cletus and his never ending quest for some hot chick to come along and kiss him and transform him into the prince that he is.

This is Cletus:

Cletus lives in our backyard. Every night the cats assume the meatloaf position and wait for him to appear. When he does, they stare as he entertains them by sitting still for long periods of time. Desmond and Daphne reward this trick with noises like “gah” “murrl,” and “errddgh”. Sometimes he moves and it’s very exciting for them when he does.

Cletus used to have a girlfriend, Blanche. But we only saw her once. I think she dumped him because he is lazy and not much of a provider. The junebugs plop onto the concrete and he just sits there. He makes no effort to catch the little bits of crunchy grossness unless they are within his immediate reach. Maybe he’s depressed, being single and all, and has lost his appetite. He does look a bit sad since the first time we saw him, with Blanche on a night out. Now that I think about it, she seemed rather distant that night. Maybe that was the beginning of the end.

I feel bad for lonely Cletus, so some nights, I’ll turn the patio light on and look for him with the cats. When he makes his appearance, I talk to him. He’s not much of a talker though. And like many men, he doesn’t seem to hear me. Maybe that’s what ultimately made Blanche leap ship.

He is sort of cute though, in an amphibious way, isn’t he?

Jeez. I buy a house and then travel for work and forget all about my little blog over here. Please do not report this neglect to the authorities. I promise to be more attentive from now on.

Because you’ve been so patiently waiting for me to post something, I’ll be sure to wow you to insane proportions. Or not.

Five Things…

I love

1. Matte. Matte. Matte. Not the foundation. Not the paint. Not the photo paper. The husband. He is the cat’s pajamas.
2. Running with Team In Training. I ran tonight for 3 miles, in over 90-degree weather. Because I love running. I hate running in sweltering heat, but not as much as I love running.
3. 3-day weekends
4. Blue skies free of smoke. They were here for a couple of days, but then they left and so did the foothills.
5. Our house. It’s not completely unpacked yet, but it’s ours, and I love it.

I hate

1. Excel spreadsheets emailed to me without being formatted for printing.
2. People who flake, especially contractors.
3. Ants. In my house. Covering the food in the cats’ bowls. Disgusting.
4. Dolly Parton singing on the Target ads while toilet paper flashes on the screen.
5. The large callus on my big toe. From running.

I should be better about

1. Taking and processing photos
2. Remembering to do things
3. Keeping in touch with people
4. Getting to work earlier
5. Adopting and keeping healthy eating habits
6. BONUS: blogging

*That’s a load of crap. Today pretty much bit.

I’m in North Carolina. Again. For work. Although today, not much work was done. Which was unavoidable, with little work to actually do.

The day started out with the alarm blaring at 6 am, which is 3 am “my” time. I bolted out of bed, started the coffeepot in my hotel room, and jumped in the shower. While getting dressed, I remembered that I left some toiletries at the office last time I was here so I wouldn’t have to schlep them back and forth from California. Problem is, I got in late last night becuase of flight delays so I hadn’t had time to go to the office to get them. Those toiletries included deodorant and hairspray. Current temperatures in Charlotte NC are in the high 90s and not conducive to unprotected pits. But, I went without. I figured “so what?” I’ll have flat, lifeless hair and B.O. That is hot.

When I got to the office, I visited the restroom, and the tempramental zipper on my pants broke for good. Usually, if I try long enough, I can get it to work, but today, the zipper pull went all the way to the top, while the teeth on the zipper stayed agape. Awesome.

When I got back to my desk, I started my computer, and plugged in the additional monitor, keyboard and mouse (because I am nothing if not ergonomically responsible). Suddenly, I lost the task bar programs, but the empty blue bar had floated about 3 inches up the screen and stuck. CTRL+ALT+DELETE would not prompt the restart or shutdown. Nothing would work, so I turned the damn thing off with the power button. (Yeah, that’s a no-no, but it usually works.) I let it sit for a bit to consider what it had done, and then turned it back on. The Dell tried to start Windows, but got caught in a loop of the laptop asking me “Do you want to start in Safe Mode?” me saying “YES” and it teasing me with the Windows logo and then asking “Do you want to start in Safe Mode?” again. Over and over we played this game. I tried other options, like “Safe Mode with Network Connection” or something about “Whatever worked last time you idiot piece of crap PC.” Still with the broken record act. I unplugged all peripherals and tried again. Nothing. Pulled out the battery. Put it back in. Tried to start on battery power. Same redundant line of questioning. Whatever.

I carried the busted laptop in front of my unzipped crotch and took it to a very nice IT lady. She ran the recovery disk, or tried to, but it was taking a day an a half to complete, so she gave me a loaner IBM laptop so I could work (or could have worked, if I had any work to actually do). I left my Dell with her to stomp on, hit with a sledgehammer, and throw out the window into a trash compactor fix and returned to my desk. At least with the loaner I could access my Outlook Mail and the Internet. Course, I had to use IE which makes me want to poke sharp sticks in my eyes.

The interesting thing is, IT had another Dell crash just yesterday that was getting stuck on the same “sector” at the Windows startup as mine, the name of which I cannot recall. (Something like mup.sys I think.) The other corrupted laptop wouldn’t boot up at all, but my laptop fared better. On mine, it would start to boot up, but just the hard drive is toast. Oh, that’s great news. The drive is completely dead. Useless. Several bad sectors, multiple unrecoverable errors, and irreconcilable differences. I lost documents. I lost passwords, account numbers, photos. All gone. POOF! No, I did not back up my data. Yes, I know that’s stupid. And now, I know that’s really stupid.

Traveling for work fills me with such utter joy, I am positively oozing sunshine.

This week I had planned to spend some girl time with my good friend MB in Napa. She’s here from Lexington, KY and meeting some of her gal pals for a week of wine tasting, pampering and possibly some piercing or permanent inking in honor of a milestone birthday.

Unfortunately, I had to cancel because I was asked to take my boss’ place at a training course this week. In Mexico. I quickly renewed my passport, picked an awesome hotel with fantastic photo opportunities, and was learning things like one should never say “Yo soy caliente,” unless one means “hot” in the Paris Hilton sense and not the “I am sweating my face off” sense. And then aye caramba, just days after I told MB I couldn’t make it to Napa, my plans changed. Mexico was out, because my services were requested in North Carolina to help with a documentation emergency. I’m just a tech writer. I don’t feel important enough or smart enough to fly out here and help (the depth of my self-esteem knows no bounds). When this trip was presented to me (read: when I was told I was going to work in NC), it was suggested that I come Every. Single Week. That’s right. Fly out every Monday and home every Friday. But that’s not feasible for several reasons, so I’m here this week and next and then we’ll see where we go from there.

This morning, I awoke at 3:45 AM. (That 3:45 was in all caps, by the way, because I was yelling it.) Three forty-five in the morning is not morning. It’s still night. But I got up and was at SFO in plenty of time for my early morning flight. I felt like a zombie. I was there, but not really there and I didn’t remember how I got there. So, when I saw someone I thought I knew, I wasn’t surprised I couldn’t remember his name. Also, turns out, I didn’t know him, exactly. It was Adam from Myth Busters and he was standing near me at the security check point. He is much taller than I thought. Also, he’s kinda hot, in a geeky way. Señor Savage es caliente.

So here I sit in a Residence Inn, while Matte gets DirecTV installed at our house, clears out our apartment, bolts bookcases to the walls for earthquake safety, gets the fence repaired that the fumigators busted into slats, waits for AT&T to set up our phones, and generally gets us moved in to our house. I would much rather be there, helping him, (and watching the cats slide all over the hardwood floors) but I sort of need this job to help pay that mortgage we just signed up for for the next 30 years.