Going Down In a Blaze Of Glory

One of the interesting things when living alone is that you have the luxury of doing whatever you want, whenever you want, with no one to criticize or comment. Emily, of course, my pet of 12 years has a thing or two to say when I play music too loud, but that’s only a mean look and a saunter to the deep abyss of the back corner of the closet (did I just make reference to my cat not coming out of the closet?)

One of the other interesting things when living alone, is that if something happens, you are left alone to take care of it. There have been several circumstances when I wished I was not the one left to take care of these tasks. Not just because I am not good at them, but to be quite frank, I don’t want to deal with them and its stuff a guy should do anyway.

Last winter, it was my furnace. Its only five years old, however a furnace filter placed upside down rather than right side up, not allowing proper air flow, was the reason for the motor burning out. Ouch, not cheap, and chilly for a few days. In a ironic and mocking twist, Home Depot was sold out of electric units.

This past summer, it was finding the best way to manage my garbage so as not to get maggots. I put the garbage out each week, but in the hottest times of the summer, I couldn’t avoid the little buggers. Using the garbage disposal as often as possible, rinsing out empty containers, and spraying the inside of the garbage can with a pesticide once a week did the trick. I also learned that maggots are the eggs of flies, and if you shut the lid on the garbage can all the way (sealed) that flies cant get in and then you wont get maggots. Duh. Those things are fucking disgusting. I can only imagine the humor my neighbors found in me putting my garbage can on the lawn and spraying it with a hose a quarter mile away because I was afraid the maggots would get on my skin and burrow into my soul.

This past fall, it was those damn spouts that attached to the end of your gutters to trail water off the roof and into the yard. I was getting heavy water in two spots, and I had to rig the gutter system to take the water further away from the foundation of the house. Turns out when you add footage to the spout of gutters, your best to use an epoxy to set them in place, otherwise, after a heavy wind storm, you’ll find them in several of your neighbors yards. How embarrassing? Again, I’m sure they found humor in my shameless walk between homes, picking up the 6 spouts that had taken flight.

Last night, it was a stupid mistake on my part that had my heart racing, and my jeans wet.

So the story goes...
I set the pot to boil some water. My stove is a flat top. I settled into the couch knowing it would take a few minutes before I could boil my pasta and several minutes later, I smelled a wretched scent that catapulted me from the couch and into the kitchen. As I turned around, I noticed flames from the stove top. As I raced to the area, I was thinking to myself, “Oh my god, I never picked up a fire extinguisher from Home Depot. What the fuck am I going to do.” It was a plastic food scale that had caught fire and I had turned on the wrong burner, not boiling the water, but cooking the scale. YIKES! I thought to myself “This will teach me to not keep a lot of shit on the stove.” The scale was on fire, and it was pretty good, I would say flames about 2 – 3 feet high. The hot gloves were an option, but I was afraid they would not suffice and protect my hands from the heat. So I grabbed a pair of tongs, grabbed a corner of the plastic scale, and flung it across the kitchen, hoping my basketball skills would come in handy and land that unit square into the kitchen sink. It did. I couldn’t help myself in adding humor to a situation I felt petrified in (I often joke when I am really upset about something.) “She shoots and she scores” I shouted out loud. Throwing my arms up as a referee would when a punter it successful. I then ran over to the faucet and turned on the water and doused the flaming scale out.

Then comes the remaining plastic bits, still in flames and smelling craptastic (word courtesy of Elle Michelle) so I took the extendable water spicket from my sink and shot it across the room. Success, yet again.

When the fire was out, in an ironic and mocking twist, the fire alarms began to sound.

Emily looked at me as if I was crazy. I swear she shook her head at me, and I stood there in the kitchen, at first proud of my fire woman like skills, thinking to myself, “Yeah, I could do it. I could be a fire fighter.”

Then suddenly realizing my jeans were wet thinking it was the water from the faucet, but realizing it wasn’t. I was so scared I peed myself. I then quickly changed my mind and thought to myself, “Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be good at it.”

Let’s just say this morning rather than boiling tea in the tea kettle on the stove, I stuck with the microwave.

Those ladies of you out there that have a man to take care of this kind of shit for you, don't take it for granted. Repay with warm meals or sexual favors...because it blows to have to do it on your own (in a strange and non mocking twist, blow could be a pun relating to sexual favors).

Have a fantabuloso weekend readers...I'm headed to Chi town to celebrate a friend's birthday!

Shopping, tatoo (not me), wine and fondue, in that order than you very much.

You Must Have A Penis

It's official. You must have a penis to appropriately install hanging blinds.

I've done three sets and have 8 more to go. I can't take it anymore.

I am having a drink instead.

Who Needs A Boyfriend When You Have Sleeping Pills

Just recently I have been having trouble sleeping. This has never been a problem for me. I am not certain what is weighing on my subconscious that is causing this.

I have read a lot of material on how to calm the body and mind before sleep. And because of this, I have developed a routine before going to bed. I think of it as my special treat to myself after a hard days work and a good workout

It starts with dimming the lights in my home. Then I will run a hot bath, turn on lite music (usually something from the 50’s or 60’s which is why I need to find a record player and my favorite oldie hits on 45’s) and I light the bathroom with candles. I’ll add to the hot bath a few drops of a scented oil which aromatherapists suggest to soothe, relax and calm.
After soaking in the tub for 20 minutes, I will follow with my evening facial cleansing and repair routine. This routine has many layers of product to repair collagen, lighten age spots, repair sun damage and stop the aging. As each layer of gel, serum or cream is applied; each layer must dry completely before the next application. So in between application of these delicious layers, I will treat the body on my skin to lotion. Each limb, my breasts, my belly, my hips, my toushie.

Then I promptly boil water in the teapot to make calming tea, sipping slowly. No caffeine please as I do not want to defeat my intent.

Then I will adorn my temple with a heavenly frock, sometimes cotton, most times silk. In the summertime always linen.

Then I will take two sleeping pills, turn on the heating pad, turn off all the lights and music, blow out the candles, and lay in bed, being sure to strategically place the heating pad in a position on my pillow that allows my neck to be in proper alignment with my spine. I can feel the pressure from my neck and spine release.

Then the thoughts of the days past will run through my head, as well as what tomorrow has to bring. When I sense a bit of anxiety or urgency in something that I wish I would have handled better, I remind myself that what matters most; my relationships with my family and friends; is good. Then suddenly all seems right in the world and I can release.

I close my eyes and as the sleeping pills work their magic, I fall quickly into a deep sleep.

Just about the time I started taking these magical wonders, I’ve also begun to dream a lot. Dreams I can remember not only when I wake up, but also throughout the day. The dreams are sweet, tender, magical, sensual…and always involve a man from my past. However, the man is not how I remember him always. The dream is recurring, but the man is different each time. The dreams are about the man tending to my needs in the most sensitive and sweet manner, and I in return through his motivation. A touch on the face, a pinch of the cheek, a reminder of my beauty and innocence. He speaks to me almost in poetry form, self expressing our relationship past, present and our future friendship. I respond to him in similar poetic words, telling him what he has meant to me, and how he has shaped my development as a woman.
When I wake up, I feel refreshed and rejuvenated, and reminded that I am a product not only of my family and friends, but almost my lovers, my experiences, my good decisions and my bad decisions.

Truth be told, I think I would sleep best if I spend the evening with a man I loved and we made a mess of the sheets into the wee hours of the morning. What heating pad?

Are Strippers Struggling In This Economy?

So, it would be fair to say that not a day goes by that we think of whether or not losing our job is a reality. We check the balances in our checking / savings accounts, laugh at our retirement funds, and know each moment, how many months we could survive given the worst possible circumstances.

I have thought of this more often recently as I work for a large local employer where lay-off's are a potential.

Because of this, I have strategized my approach at work. I am taking on a lot of work, offering support in new initiatives, and taking on more projects. Finding opportunities to show my value and be sure I represent as my best self. I've also tried to gain exposure to Execs who might recognize potential.

Anyways, this too brings me to the reality of what if it really did happen? What if I got a pink slip tomorrow, what would I do?

I am 31 years old and am completely self sufficient. With that, however, comes, the reality that I'd be on my financial own in the worst circumstances as well. Id be okay for a while, but I know I would get bored. And I hate being bored, there are few things as annoying.

Then my mind wanders to the usual...re-connect with my professional networking friends (I should do that now and not wait), call a recruiting / placement agency, beef up my resume, and deliver it in person to local companies. Then I think...well, what if that is not enough? What if they tell me I am qualified but they have no jobs. I mean, seriously, aren't like 80% of businesses on hiring freezes anyways.

Then, in true white trash fashion, I think "Ah ha! I'll just strip!" Its cash, its tax free (well not technically) and I could seriously work it so long as I preceded my evening naked personal self expression rendezvous with a half dozen shots of vodka.

Then I think, "Are strippers struggling in this economy?"

Uh oh.

All The Women (And Men) Throw Your Hands Up at Me

You know those times in life when you feel like you are flying on cloud nine. When you revel in the fact that you have made a good decision, amongst all the bad decisions that we make in life. For a brief moment, you think… “Damn I am good!”
Tonight I had one of those nights.

It has been about six weeks since a car dealership and I have been negotiating the price of 2006 C230 with just fewer than 11k miles. To me, buying this car for me had nothing to do with the make or model, but the fact that I could do anything for myself that I wanted, and that I was capable of negotiating a bad ass price. Throw in German engineering and well, let’s just say I found my motivation.

Six weeks later, sticker price under Kelly Blue Book and an awesome trade in deal, I drove home tonight in that car for a few grand under $20k…a steal.

On my ride home, Michael, the gentleman whom I worked with, called me. Without even saying hello I said to him, “I can’t believe I got this car for this price.” His response, “Neither can I.” I knew I did well.

If you are in the Cleveland area and are looking for a Mercedes, go to Leikin Mercedes in Willoughby OH. Ask for Michael and tell him Angela sent you. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

All the women, who are independent, throw your hands up at me!

Tell me your story.

Mother Goose to Snow White

Birds of a feather flock together,
And so will pigs and swine;
Rats and mice will have their choice,
And so will I have mine.

Poly(ester) Is My Friend

Perhaps it was the ten years of Catholic schooling or perhaps it is the reminder of my Grandma Z, I don't know for sure; but I have a crush on polyester.

I did not realize this until recently. It's been a long while since I have took inventory of my wardrobe. I've gone a year avoiding buying new clothes, an attempt to work towards a minimalist lifestyle.

I've always been very partial to cotton, linen, wool and silk. My addiction to bed linens has introduced me to the gamut of cotton thread counts. High cotton thread counts having a gleam and feel of almost silk.

Linen, so crisp and fresh in the spring and summer.

Wool, the classic standby for those cold winters.

As I went through my wardrobe I realized as I tossed old things in the donation bags to give away, that I continued to set aside the poly blends?

"What gives" I asked myself? They will stand the test of time no doubt but why not the beautiful wool slacks, or the silk camis, or the cotton tees that fit so nicely under a fitted jacket, the fact that I'm wearing cotton at work under the tailored blazer never having to be known?

I chuckled as I challenged myself to understand why. From the time I can remember attending school, I would prepare each school night by laying out my blue checkered polyester skirt, a white cotton blouse (perfectly pressed), and a polyester vest which normally ended up tied around my waist well before the 315pm bell. Next to that I lay cream colored wool knee high socks, saddle shoes, a headband, and my school bag, packed with my books and my homework.

Into high school, it was the same routine, only I mixed it up with crazy colored tights to show my individuality while hiding my pierced navel.

I have a black pair of slacks, size 6, perfect lenght. I've had them for at least five years. These are the poly blend slacks I turn to the mornings I've woken up late and need to rush to work. The front crease more like a permanent dent, one that can stand a five minute fluff in the dryer before I slide them on and pair it with a shell and a blazer and run out the door. If I spill coffee on them, a cotton tissue wipes it away it does not even absorb into the fabric, almost as if they have been sprayed with scotch guard. When I step out of the car and accidentally brush the car and get salt on the leg of the pant a simple slap on the pant and poof, the salt is gone.

As I thought about tossing them into the donation pile, simply because poly is not the most respected fabric, I quickly concluded that there would indeed be future mornings that I would regret that decision.

Its almost midnight and the clock will soon strike 5am. Who knows, maybe I'll slide on those poly blend slacks tomorrow morning. Nah, I'll go with the cream colored wool skirt suit since it will be chilly and my brown enzo pumps since there is no snow. This will look nice with a chocolate brown stocking and my grandmother's gold starburst pin on the lapel.

Although grade school and high school were a number of years ago I would hate to admit, there is a part of me that is still holding on.