tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76228922011-04-21T12:52:44.919-07:00The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comBlogger1401100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1109886203826910112005-03-03T23:32:00.000-08:002005-03-29T23:05:33.836-08:00

Are you looking for me? Well you can find me here (hurray, I've got a place as a regular. Don't tell anybody, but I'm not too keen on the story I wrote. It needs a lot of work, but there are deadlines; so be patient, they'll get better. I hope you'll become readers, because this little thing is sure to grow. It really is a great project.This is no longer my primary blog, which is the reason my

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1108436117088368592005-02-14T18:53:00.000-08:002005-02-14T18:55:17.090-08:00

How wrong is it to listen to "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye on Valentine's Day while in the company of none but your 3 year-old daughter?

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1108152017484625982005-02-11T23:40:00.000-08:002005-03-29T23:06:20.436-08:00

Sadly, it continues. He has been converted to a grudge keeper.I received an email from my brother stating that I am to return any property of his that is in my possession to my mother's house the next time I am there.I feel like we are children again with this not speaking to each other business. You remember how you would tell your sister to tell your brother that he isn't allowed in your room

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1107987812213802432005-02-09T17:05:00.000-08:002005-03-29T23:06:55.310-08:00

...with a three year-old.I tend to yell at the contestants - a lot. If they suck. I tell them so. If they're ugly, I let them know. They can't hear me, but I get the satisfaction of saying what I want to them, because I am all alone in my apartment with my television, my remote control and my analytical personality. I pick them apart...every bit of them. It's dreadful I know, but really I can't

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1107846826716800862005-02-07T23:00:00.000-08:002005-02-07T23:13:46.716-08:00

I was watching the Surreal Life last night, and I'm with Adrianne. I'm falling for Christopher Knight too. How can you resist a Brady? Really, how? Forget the first male supermodel. (insert pet peeve here: Um, can I just mention that I hate when they put male or female in front of a gender-generalized role. Male nurse, male secretary... um doesn't just saying he's a nurse, pretty much cover the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1107749780103211822005-02-06T20:15:00.000-08:002005-02-06T20:16:20.103-08:00

"Audrey, can you please calm down that jumping and yelling? You're driving me crazy!" "No mommy, I'm driving you happy."

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1107382369877575082005-02-02T13:46:00.000-08:002005-02-02T14:12:49.876-08:00

Have you any idea how much I can't stand being in the hold system of airline companies? You may since I have devoted several posts to the topic, but before it was because of Continental. At this very moment I am stuck in the labrinth of American Airlines phone system, and I am ready to poke my eyes out. They have this supposedly "helpful" thing where you give all the information to a computer who

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1107327080650502112005-02-01T22:47:00.000-08:002005-02-01T22:51:20.680-08:00

When writing rant about brother's absenteeism and its connection to his girlfriend's grudge-keeping tendancies, make sure that said brother does not read place where said rant is posted, so as to prevent this brother from being exposed to private frustrations which then spark a series of phone calls containing the "F" word and the phrase "I never want to speak to you again."

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1106942694305480312005-01-28T13:00:00.000-08:002005-01-28T13:32:38.706-08:00

LTR (long-term readers) know how I feel about reading in the bathroom, public restrooms more especially, but here is a hilarious post from the folk at 3leggeddog (he's on the blogroll) that gives you the bird's-eye view of a reader/talker/tandum pooper.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1106936053339089652005-01-28T09:53:00.000-08:002005-01-28T10:14:13.340-08:00

Okay, yes I'm a "published" author, but don't get too excited for me. I am published in online newsletters, to my company's website and another website by a company that contracts for our services. And truth be told, I hate what I write for these darn articles. I don't know what I'm talking about...bringing to mind that great bit from Clueless where the guy asks, "Do you even know what you're

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1106865389982754432005-01-27T14:08:00.000-08:002005-01-27T14:36:29.983-08:00

Absentee family members have always been a part of my life, or maybe the point is that they weren't a part of my life and that was because of the absenteesim. I had grandparents on my father's side, but I've seen them but a few times. I reacted to the death of my grandfather with the sort of 'ah, that's too bad' spirit one greets the death of a celebrity, or maybe less so, because often times one

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1106675263202884802005-01-25T09:27:00.000-08:002005-01-25T09:47:43.203-08:00

My beloved Durango was returned to me yesterday after over two weeks at the body shop where it was being repaired from the little rear ender thing I caused when I went forward while looking backward. Note to all you drivers out there: don't drive in the opposite direction of your eyes. It's just never a good idea. I may have to say that my Durango may be beloved no more. Now, I've been driving a

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1106608224590409122005-01-24T14:38:00.000-08:002005-01-25T09:27:14.690-08:00

How was your weekend? Wait is this thing on? Or has my sporadic blogging of late frightened everyone away? It's okay if it has. It is almost a relief. No one to write for but me. I was more successful that way before, just check out my july archives...the beginning. No wait don't, because then you will see that I used to do stuff. But it was summer then and it is winter now. Blogging in the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105737822409758172005-01-14T13:13:00.000-08:002005-01-14T13:23:42.410-08:00

I have read on a number of blogs now that my other site is a guilty pleasure, some are even trying to shuck reading, but can't for the addiction to my drama. I too have a blog that is my guilty pleasure. I always go to it last when going down my blogroll, and then I savor my time there, playing her comment games. I was resistant to linking to her, maybe because I am a little begrudging of her

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105653483440717302005-01-13T13:55:00.000-08:002005-01-13T13:58:03.440-08:00

I stepped onto the scale, annoyed as always that I had my heavy boots on. Why do I always wear my heaviest shoes on the days I am going to the doctor’s? “120,” the nurse wrote before asking, “How tall are you?” Not understanding why it wasn’t already on my chart, I answered him, “5’10".” He led me to the exam room, and I took in his leg-sized, muscular arms that were fully revealed due to the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105396953908175542005-01-10T14:26:00.000-08:002005-01-10T14:42:33.906-08:00

I'm on hold with Continental again. Um, note to Continental: The HOLIDAYS are OVER. Thanks. This time they remembered the hold music...except it is Guy-with-the-"I wish I could narrate movie trailers"-voice talking about Continental Airlines with "Jingle Bells" and "Frosty the Snowman" in the background. Now I am longing for silence...sweet, sweet silence. Have you ever thought about calling

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105163184375300712005-01-07T21:39:00.000-08:002005-01-07T21:46:24.376-08:00

Wanna hear something not-so-funny? No? Go away then. After I was done holding (see below), I left work, excited to start my weekend, got into my car, drove to the office park exit, made it to the center lane, where I proceeded to rearend somebody. (I think I used far, far too many commas in that sentence, or not enough words, or it's a run-on, but I am too tired to edit.) It must have been my

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105145051324155032005-01-07T16:34:00.000-08:002005-01-07T16:44:11.323-08:00

Do you ever feel like you could express your blog post so much better if you could just tell the reader in person, complete with facial expressions and silly voices? This is one of these posts. I am on hold right now at work with Continental Airlines. I was supposed to be off work 10 minutes ago, but that is another story. So anyway, I call and need to speak with a representative. You know

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105132668827278382005-01-07T13:11:00.000-08:002005-01-07T13:17:48.826-08:00

What happened to liver and onions? Can you recall the last time someone said, “so my wife made liver and onions for dinner last night?” Did people stop liking liver and onions? Did anyone ever like liver and onions? Will liver and onions make a comeback? Is there a small sect of liver and onions lovers out there somewhere on the planet that I don't know about? Did your mom make you eat liver and

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105082275953478902005-01-06T23:09:00.000-08:002005-01-14T13:31:45.870-08:00

Can I just tell you how much I love watching Ellen dance? It is becoming a sickness of sorts. Every night at 11 I switch on my televison. It's not for the 11 o'clock news. No, no people. I am turning on my television so I can watch Ellen dance on the Oh! Oxygen network (okay, I just like the Oh! Those Oh! commercials are so cute...do they still have them? I only tune in to see Ellen dance). And

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1105055423950123192005-01-06T15:38:00.000-08:002005-01-06T15:50:23.950-08:00

Today I did something evil. I was sitting at my desk minding my own business when I heard someone say to the CFO that there was only one slice of banana bread left in the kitchen. She got all excited, and I knew she wanted that last slice of banana bread. But the thing is, so did I. She'd been in the kitchen with it, but left to get the mail...that woman is obsessed with the mail, so I took the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1104908812579727922005-01-04T22:59:00.000-08:002005-01-04T23:06:52.580-08:00

I have a thing with people reading on the toilet, especially public toilets. I've said it before. I'm saying it now. I just don't get it. So when I was walking down the hall this afternoon after leaving the office, I passed hottie. He entered the bathroom with a stack of papers in hand, and with that the minor twinge of a crush, that tiny bit of attraction that I had for him vanished, poof just

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1104782966989732362005-01-03T11:45:00.000-08:002005-01-03T12:09:26.990-08:00

Every year seems to come along bringing with it new words or phrases that bug the hell out of us because they just. won't. go. away. We never want to hear them again, yet they are everywhere. I read the 2005 List of Banished Words today and wish that we could actually ban them. Why oh why can't we ban them. I want to add "You're fired!" to the list. I am so sick of that phrase and sick of the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1104732190954338292005-01-02T21:57:00.000-08:002005-01-02T22:03:10.953-08:00

And so it is that I return reluctantly to Narcissistic Flight. I was surprised that I would be reluctant, because I have really enjoyed writing here, but lately my life has been pretty low, and I would prefer not to really drip with depression here on this blog, and when you are missing the stories about bugs in the eye or fake eyelashes and devil horns, really what have you left? But I welcome

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1103568621740001072004-12-20T10:42:00.000-08:002004-12-20T10:50:21.740-08:00

Okay people, the narcissist needs a break. You might have noticed the downward spiral in quality of recent posts, and more and more am I breaking from my daily posting habit. From the whole bah humbug tone lately, you can probably glean from my posts that I am going through a stressful time right now. So in order to ease some of it, I am just going to step away from Narcissistic Flight until

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1103322251622330682004-12-17T14:13:00.000-08:002004-12-17T14:24:11.623-08:00

Last night was our office holiday party. At last year's party we went to the Kirkland Keg and sat at a large table, ordered appetizers and drinks and talked to our neighbors. There were no spouses or partners, and it was no fun. As our company grows, so too does the party. So we moved on up to the Bellevue Club Olympic Ballroom A. A Ballroom for our holiday party. You have no idea how big a deal

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1103129897010818892004-12-15T08:56:00.000-08:002004-12-15T08:58:17.010-08:00

Forget low-carb. I’ve got a line on the next hot plan in weight loss strategies. You may call it the Roxy method. But I’ll let you in on a secret, shhh, all it is really is a stress diet. You don’t even have to decide to be on it. It just finds you. One day you are eating healthy well-rounded meals (if you count cheezits and cocoroos as well-rounded), the next you can barely choke down an entire

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1103002040567526162004-12-13T21:26:00.000-08:002004-12-13T21:30:45.990-08:00

Why do I feel like I am committing an act of child abuse by not stringing my house full of Christmas lights, garland and bows this year? I don’t even have a Christmas tree, and even lack a plan or the desire to procure one. I am just not doing the Christmas thing this year. No decorations, no tree, no shopping. I’m out for the first time in my life. And aside from feeling guilty about robbing

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1102738803062271402004-12-10T20:14:00.000-08:002004-12-10T20:20:03.063-08:00

You might remember that when I moved into my apartment, my first morning there I arose to play to piano as I do every Saturday morning. You may also remember that mere minutes after I started the downstairs neighbor was pounding on my door complaining that the noise went straight to their bedroom and could I please play later in the day. Since then I have muted my piano and moved it to the dining

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1102532052148128672004-12-08T10:50:00.000-08:002004-12-08T10:54:12.146-08:00

Do you ever get so sick of everything that you just wish that you could forsake it all for chopping wood or making boxes? Our lives are so abstracted and complex because we make them so. We analyze everything. We construct everything. Nothing can just be, for our worlds are complicatedly interconnected. We rely on so many things and have no earthly idea what life is like without electricity,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1102455464206534952004-12-07T13:36:00.000-08:002004-12-07T13:43:04.270-08:00

Picture, if you will, an apartment. It isn’t quite a luxury apartment, and it is not even quite up-scale, but it is definitely one of the nicer places around. Now go inside this apartment. See the second-hand, but quality, designer furniture, see the oil paintings on the wall and the silver-framed pictures on the étagère. Look at the clean counters and the neatly arranged cabinets in the kitchen.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1102144642087597502004-12-03T23:16:00.000-08:002004-12-03T23:17:22.086-08:00

I have gotten so frustrated with being the family planner and matriarch of sorts that after the dreadfulness of my Thanksgiving I decided that I needed a break. The Monday after the holiday I slaved and cooked away for, I was plagued with phone calls by those asking about Christmas. What are we going to do? We should do this. Are you going to do this? I couldn’t take it. I hadn’t even cleaned out

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1102093102526840652004-12-03T08:56:00.000-08:002004-12-03T22:59:33.546-08:00

Seen on a sandwich board at the Doubletree Hotel Bellevue…Millionaire Mind - $10. Is that a bargain, or what?

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101936144955661782004-12-01T13:20:00.000-08:002004-12-01T13:28:58.116-08:00

I always wondered if girliness is innate or something that just happens along the way. You would think that being a girl I would be more clued in to the topic, but perhaps upon reflection I am. When I was a little girl I wanted to wear dresses every day and an apron so I could fill said apron with wild flowers from the nonexistent fields surrounding our suburban home. But I loved Matchbox cars

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101837356540708732004-11-30T09:49:00.000-08:002004-11-30T10:38:06.493-08:00

I fell in love with her in Amelie and hungrily watched every other film she has been in. There is just something about her that captures you. So imagine my excitement when I read this article touting her newest film. Course there is no telling how long it will take to get to the American audience, but I am eagerly awaiting the film's arrival. I have always been a fan of French film, but she is

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101833321510237752004-11-30T08:44:00.000-08:002004-11-30T09:00:35.753-08:00

Radio stations have started in with their nonstop Christmas playlists. The one I listen to started the week before Thanksgiving, which is a week too early in my book. However, I have always loved Christmas music and as a child was given to playing the Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas tape in the middle of summer. I couldn’t get enough of carols, and to some degree I still can’t. I love, love,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101765447046006942004-11-29T13:52:00.000-08:002004-11-29T13:57:27.046-08:00

Yes, nearly a week. I am a dreadful blogger, but I know you'll forgive me considering it is my first lapse. So much has happened, but I haven't really been up to writing about it, so here is one of the more minor bumps in the Thanksgiving holiday. Gasp! Horrors! Oh my goodness! What have you done?!? Stop the World! It’s coming to an end! You are evil! Call DSS! You may be wondering what I did

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101267491717955672004-11-23T19:37:00.000-08:002004-11-23T19:38:11.716-08:00

She’s BAAAAaaack! Audrey’s trip to Vegas is ended, and life is back to normal. She didn’t even seem more excited than usual to see me when I picked her up from daycare today. Ah such is life. I smothered her in kisses, and she instructed me not to kiss her while wiping them off of her face. Excuse me? When did my just-turned-three year old turn thirteen? I wasn’t quite prepared for that today.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101154585672856652004-11-22T13:16:00.000-08:002004-11-22T12:16:25.673-08:00

Do we really need more than 25 days of Christmas? Perhaps it helps consumers to get into the spending mode if all of the sudden Santa is everywhere and carols are playing on every store’s Muzak. Personally I go by the calendar, and my calendar says that Thanksgiving is still days away. I enjoy Thanksgiving. I embrace Thanksgiving. I cook and eat mounds of food every Thanksgiving and am very

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1101152660228350482004-11-22T11:42:00.000-08:002004-11-22T11:50:06.590-08:00

I sat in the car for the first two wrecking yards. They were the kind that take the parts off for you, clean them up and charge a nice premium for the trouble. But they didn’t have what Cy was looking for, so we drove farther north to the Pull a Part wrecking yard. This time Cy invited me to come with him, to experience the shangrila that is a wrecking yard. I was skeptical. In the car on the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100809514801814562004-11-18T13:22:00.000-08:002004-11-18T12:25:14.800-08:00

Sam has just taken Audrey for a little trip to Las Vegas (what?). So I am child-free for the next 5 days. What would you do first if you had 5 days with no children, no meals, no messes?

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100629914420896912004-11-16T10:31:00.000-08:002004-11-16T10:33:08.543-08:00

The great thing about my job is that people are stupid. And with that stupidity comes illiteracy, or what must be illiteracy because apparently no one can read that big, huge, fat sign we have on our door screaming at solicitors to stay far, far away because we reaaaally don’t want any. So because no one can read this sign, solicitors come waltzing in all the time, and the most amusing bit is

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100626148655680662004-11-16T09:27:00.000-08:002004-11-16T09:29:25.256-08:00

Dinner of fools – one piece of chocolate cake, from last week’s birthday party – yes last week, as in eight days ago. Breakfast of champions – stale Cheerios in a plastic baggy, no milk. And what is the star of nutritional health going to have for lunch? In all likelihood, whatever Cheerios are left and some crumbly candy corn bought on clearance from Target after Halloween. Care to join me?

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100557971454252472004-11-15T14:31:00.000-08:002004-11-15T14:32:51.456-08:00

We wouldn't know if it weren't for the movies. 1. The ventilation system of any building is the perfect hiding place. No one will ever think of looking for you in there, and you can travel to any other part of the building you want without difficulty. 2. You're very likely to survive any battle in any war unless you make the mistake of showing someone a picture of your sweetheart back home 3.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100543084842920142004-11-15T10:21:00.000-08:002004-11-15T10:24:44.843-08:00

Hello, oh I say. Imagine that said in a British accent by a dirty, old English man and you will have my reaction to the new guy. He just started today. And by he I mean tall, extremely handsome Harvard grad. Did I mention handsome? I had heard rumors, but my Lord were they understated. I was already seated at my desk when he arrived. I looked up at him, barely able to keep the jaw from dropping,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100540855111648662004-11-15T09:43:00.000-08:002004-11-15T09:47:35.110-08:00

Crayon all over the beautiful walls greeted me when I entered Audrey’s room after her “nap.” Had she even slept? From the artwork on the walls, I was inclined to think not. I racked my brain to find the time where I had told her that she should never, ever color on the walls, and I found the moment it entered my mind to do so, but pushed aside with the thought that with 5 color books and 2 plain

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100301703496097812004-11-12T15:18:00.000-08:002004-11-12T15:21:43.496-08:00

The debate continues on where Audrey is to spend the holidays. Sam doesn’t want her for Thanksgiving. He doesn’t want to be around anyone. He said he has become disimpassioned by the holiday season now that he doesn’t have a family to celebrate it with. He was quick to qualify that he wasn’t going to miss spending the holidays with me since I get so bitchy [I will say this is true – I always end

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100129511350117272004-11-12T11:31:00.000-08:002004-11-23T14:05:54.800-08:00

Recently I started doing this Blog Explosion thing, and while I promised myself that I wouldn’t devote an entire post to it, a la the majority of blogs that you read while perusing the masses in sort of a speed dating fashion, I couldn’t resist any longer. One of the things that surprised me from the posts re: Blog Explosion was the amount of people complaining about other people’s blogs. There

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100213165092030882004-11-11T14:40:00.000-08:002004-11-11T14:49:02.333-08:00

For those of you who don't have anyone close to you to remember or honor this Veteran's Day here are two beautifully written posts about three men who are not yet veterans but are just hoping to make it through the war. Think of them as you reflect on those who have fought in wars, be they just or not.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100206494524106442004-11-11T13:50:00.000-08:002004-11-11T12:54:54.523-08:00

The holidays draw near, and I watch their approach with sadness for as I plan to host the Thanksgiving dinner and draws names for the family Santa exchange, I know that Audrey will be absent for one of them. I will either sit down to the most grateful of holiday meals with my little daughter enjoying it elsewhere or wake up Christmas morning to nothing more than my alarm, for her excited cries at

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1100023393560761272004-11-09T09:57:00.000-08:002004-11-09T14:00:30.113-08:00

I should have known that mental health day was going to come bite me in the ass. Shouldn’t I have known? It must be karma or something. Well, I don’t really believe in karma, so it must be God punishing me for telling a dirty, nasty lie about my daughter’s health. And I definitely deserve it. Don’t I know yet that every time I lie that my daughter is sick, she will get sick days later? I was

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099954813475210042004-11-08T14:56:00.000-08:002004-11-08T15:00:13.476-08:00

I was hungry. I had leftover phad thai. I poured said phad thai into a tupperware container to perpetuate reheatage. I noticed a hair. I pulled it out. It wasn't mine. It wasn't anyone's that I know. It must be from the phad thai store. I removed phad thai noodles from vicinity of hair's discovery and proceeded to reheat and eat the phad thai. Sure, that's disgusting. I should have immediately

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099954558396407552004-11-08T14:47:00.000-08:002004-11-08T14:55:58.396-08:00

Cut off the entirety of my bad finger nail with a rusty X-acto knife using my left hand. After staring at the blade for a moment, I realized that it, combined with the fact that my left hand is incapable of doing anything, would only lead to more damage on my poor finger than the dreadful fungus has already wrought. No, I can't believe that I haven't called the doctor about it yet either. (Never

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099952587477856292004-11-08T14:20:00.000-08:002004-11-08T14:23:34.376-08:00

I really like the BB. I called Audrey in sick on Thursday so I could take a mental health day, and on Friday he asked me how she was doing. I told him she was better and with daddy. He said that those poor kids are always picking things up from daycare, and then he paused. “Is he treating you okay?” I hesitated a moment before saying that he was. I assumed that he was asking me if Sam, my ex,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099936940921929042004-11-08T10:00:00.000-08:002004-11-08T10:02:20.923-08:00

Earlier I dropped Audrey at daycare. No crying, no nothing. She is getting better, which certainly makes me feel better. As I walked out of the building, Susan, the owner stopped me, “I saw Audrey’s daddy on Friday. Wow was he dressed up. Woowee. He sure did look nice.” “Well,” I replied, “He had a rehearsal dinner to go to.” “He can look so nice when he wants to,” she continued. “Yeah, when

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099688736911812072004-11-05T13:51:00.000-08:002004-11-05T13:05:36.910-08:00

Yesterday I took a mental health day. I called my daughter in sick (a horrible lie since she was in Yakima with her father), and set about doing all those things I have been putting off since I moved in. First I went through all my digital prints and picked out around 20 to get developed in various sizes. I had no idea how easy Wal-marts site would be and cheap too. I ordered around 20 prints and

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099503096660582902004-11-03T09:27:00.000-08:002004-11-03T09:34:06.233-08:00

I did my civic duty yesterday, but I am beginning to think that I am the reason that not everyone should vote. First off, I was one of those undecideds that the media could not get over. I voted for Bush then, and as a soft Republican, I figured I would vote for Bush now. However, I have been confused by Bush’s dealings in the Middle East and I don’t quite understand that whole tax refund thing.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099432317146097452004-11-02T13:32:00.000-08:002004-11-02T13:51:57.146-08:00

There is this guy at my local Kinko's that makes my day every time I have to go there for work. He remembers my name; he always has a smile, and he is the cutest, little thing you ever did see. I don't mind flirting with him because he is 5'5" or some gawdawfully short height, so there could never be a chance that he would think that we could be an item, because I am Amazon woman next to him.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099424465920466432004-11-01T14:39:00.000-08:002004-11-02T11:43:45.530-08:00

So today marks the third year of my being a parent. Have I done a good job? Hmm, well let's see. Judging my the tone of my last post, I am inclined to think not. But my child is now three, so she made it this far under my care (and the crowd goes wild) - thank you, thank you. I try my best. Or do I? What is the best that a parent can give to her child? Every waking moment completely devoted to

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099345715880514252004-11-01T13:46:00.000-08:002004-11-01T13:51:07.076-08:00

I have come to the bitter conclusion that I am not cut out for this mom stuff. I am too young. I am too selfish. And I don’t know what the hell I am doing. How does one just know how to be a mom? How does one go from having hopes and wishes and plans for the evening to watching "The Wiggles," reading Poky Little Puppy, wiping bottoms and figuring out how in the heck to make the headstrong three

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099072056955492042004-10-29T10:46:00.000-07:002004-10-29T10:47:36.956-07:00

Pardon the look of disgust on my heavily make-upped face (see below) but I just ate an Odwalla Superfood Bar. I bought it a couple of weeks ago for Audrey, but it somehow ended up in my desk at work, where it’s sat undisturbed ever since. Today, I was hungry, and in my rush to get out the door this morning, I neglected to feed myself. I opened the drawer slowly and there it was waiting for me,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099067291142161832004-10-29T09:02:00.000-07:002004-10-29T09:28:11.143-07:00

One year ago was my first Halloween with this company. Halloween just happens to be the Big Boss's birthday, so I learned that everyone goes all out and dresses up and has a grand ole time. I came to work in a cute, black cat outfit. Trite, I know, but it was cheap, simple, and I was adorable. Everyone dressed up - there was a whoopie cushion, a cowboy, a pumpkin, another cowboy, and a rockstar (

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1099000146072130892004-10-28T14:47:00.000-07:002004-10-28T14:54:14.396-07:00

Dropping my child at daycare is never a pleasant experience. Since the aforementioned time where Audrey ran into the arms of one of the other children, barely acknowledging my departure, things have returned to the norm gotten a lot worse. She got out of bed on the wrong side of bed this morning, so I knew that I was in for it. She was actually telling me that she didn’t want to get out of bed

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098910755284279422004-10-27T13:51:00.000-07:002004-10-27T13:59:15.283-07:00

Now that half my world is in the know about this site, I decided to revamp it (i.e. remove all embarrassing material). I also completely deleted blog #2. So now I am down to my newly boring main blog (have I any right to call it a soap opera now that all soap opera qualities are gone? Prepare for a new header.) and my novel blog. Two blogs is enough for now, though I may some day restart the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098724916769431262004-10-25T10:07:00.000-07:002004-10-25T10:21:56.770-07:00

I figured out something. People in my life have been confused why I haven't called or kept in touch with X's family and friends. I never knew exactly why, it was just the way I needed it. But last night, X came to get a key to the old apartment, so he could get some of his things out of storage. When I opened my door to give it to him, I saw that he brought his brother Judah, whom I had only seen

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098462053835430152004-10-22T09:19:00.000-07:002004-10-22T09:20:53.836-07:00

Last night I went back to the old apartment. Yes, I moved last weekend, but I am not done moving. The old place is littered with the things that I don’t know what to do with. And I haven’t even begun to empty the hall linen closet. It is stuffed with things that I want, but I don’t want to deal with. I have an old Cinderella popcorn tin (you know the kind, it is huge and comes with three types of

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098375038976818312004-10-21T09:08:00.000-07:002004-10-21T09:10:38.976-07:00

Running late as usual because of an inability to drag myself out of bed (I have decided that I am only a morning person during the summer – when the sun wakes me up…it is impossible for me to get up when it is dark outside), I took my shower and forsook the blow-dryer, instead pulling my hair into two low buns. As I hurried out the door, Audrey (Bubba) in tow, she looked up at me as I dragged her

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098300995264951202004-10-20T13:16:00.000-07:002004-10-20T12:39:31.783-07:00

Yes folks, I am going to join the masses by participating in NaNoWriMo and Blogger's version, Na-No-Blog-Mo. I have started many novels in my day, and I do mean many, but they have all fallen by the wayside, because I ended up hating my characters and my plots and my lack of direction. I always dreamt, as many writers do, of publishing the next Great American Novel, but I wanted to be among the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098220281547873212004-10-19T13:29:00.000-07:002004-10-19T14:11:21.546-07:00

For breakfast I ate four - yes, four - Krispy Kreme doughnuts. For lunch I had two pieces of pizza. After looking at my recently updated photosite, a friend from high school e-mailed me to ask my secret for staying so thin. Really, I have no idea. My lunches through most of high school consisted of a pack of Mambas, a Coke and a bag of Doritos. I used to eat about a pound of candy a day. Some

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1098117544468655352004-10-18T09:12:00.000-07:002004-10-18T09:39:25.763-07:00

Sunday morning I woke early in my new bedroom, in my new apartment. After drinking a lovely cup of tea, I could help it no more - my fingers were itching for it, for days had passed without it. I had to play the piano. I began softly, but soon became lost in the piece and play the crescendos as written. It was wonderful to be in my new apartment on a beautiful Sunday morning playing my piano. I

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097779795556047902004-10-14T11:46:00.000-07:002004-10-14T11:49:55.556-07:00

Tuesday night, X came to collect Bubba. He has been acting very strange lately – nice, but in a forced way – so when I brought the discussion to finances, he asked about the money I made at my mother’s garage sale. I looked at him questioningly. He asked again about the money, this time mentioning an amount – one that I had only mentioned here, in this blog. The realization dawned on me like a

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097612155552944622004-10-12T13:13:00.000-07:002004-10-12T13:15:55.553-07:00

Though most of the time I try to pretend that my dad doesn’t exist anymore or that he is dead, sometimes curiosity gets the better of me. The house that I have been helping Mom move from is the last one she and my father lived together in. The address to that house is the only connection that he has to any of his children. Because I have a habit of getting nightmares anytime I get news of my

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097606401669004432004-10-12T11:36:00.000-07:002004-10-12T11:40:01.670-07:00

A couple of months ago, the health department, because of PCBs in the light fixtures, suddenly shut down my daughter’s preschool. It was all over the news. The only notice was a call one Tuesday evening to say that they would keep us abreast of any possible reopening. But because the county (evil King County), who owned the building and the property, refused to help financially to fix the issue,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097534736758903862004-10-11T15:33:00.000-07:002004-10-11T15:45:36.756-07:00

Hey! My sofa sold – no sob story required. The dining table and chairs sold. The washer and dryer sold. Ask me how much of that money I have left to put toward new furniture in my new apartment. Yessiree, spent it all on the Bubbster, I did. Kid needed new bedding for her “big girl bed,” panties, socks, shoes, and stuff. Color my wallet empty. So my new apartment, my beautiful, new apartment, is

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097518620346979342004-10-11T11:16:00.000-07:002004-10-11T11:17:00.346-07:00

Yes friends, this is my role model.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097383749605573612004-10-09T21:28:00.000-07:002004-10-09T21:50:49.290-07:00

Tonight as I drove home from visiting my mother in her new apartment, I got off the freeway, halted at a stoplight and started to turn my head to talk to my daughter as she babbled about red meaning stop, but paused as my eyes came across a guy staring at me from the backseat of the car in the next lane. As quickly as I stopped, I finished my turn and began to entertain my daughter with stoplight

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097270321542197252004-10-08T14:00:00.001-07:002004-10-08T14:21:05.490-07:00

Why won't anyone buy my sofa? I mean, I know it isn't the most attractive thing in the world, but I bought it used for $350, so $65 is a huge cut. I even lowered it from $100. I know the text sucks, but I really can't figure out what to say about it. You either want a plaid sleeper sofa or you don't. I could write a long diatribe on why I want to get rid of it in the first place a la the guy

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097267410556018652004-10-08T13:21:00.000-07:002004-10-27T10:13:51.220-07:00

I have a growing list of blogs that I read regularly, and it is not that I want the list to keep growing, but that the blogs that I thoroughly enjoy are not updated 9 times a day or even in most cases once a day. Boy do I go mad when my most favorite blogs (there are three) are not updated for days sometimes even (GASP!) the very same days. I miss their stories and their incites into life. Sure,

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097262589729128862004-10-08T13:06:00.000-07:002004-10-08T12:09:49.730-07:00

A girl in the office just received a delivery of the most beautiful red roses I have seen in quite some time, and while I feel that red roses have become a bit of a cliché given by men who don’t know better, the fact that the arrangement contained not a sprig of baby’s breath but rather a Martha Stewart-esque filler spoke to the sender’s discerning taste. As I carried the heavy vase down the hall

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097178982191535942004-10-07T13:50:00.000-07:002004-10-07T13:06:13.916-07:00

A man from a Canadian bookshop just called. He had the most amazing English accent. I found myself falling in love with him as we spoke and was reluctant to end the conversation. I sighed as I hung up the phone, images of a variation of Jude Law/Christian Bale/Hugh Grant dancing in my head.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097169157605494192004-10-07T10:11:00.000-07:002004-10-27T10:33:01.936-07:00

The soap opera really is over - or at least as far as this blog goes. After all that went on with the Mr. Slick/Superman thing, I am reluctant to be as candid about the goings on in my life so far as men are concerned and so far as this blog is concerned…for now anyway. I revealed a lot about the goings on in my life and the emotional responses to those happenings, and people were kind and gave

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097098506746033032004-10-06T14:33:00.000-07:002004-10-06T14:35:06.746-07:00

Last night I started going through boxes. X cleared out the storage unit for me, so my living room was filled with boxes and boxes. The majority of these boxes contain books that I have collected over the years. I love books, but I finally realized that I will never read the majority of them again. What is the point of keeping them in boxes? Why not give others the chance to enjoy? So I

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1097041543317155682004-10-05T22:39:00.000-07:002004-10-05T22:47:18.970-07:00

Yes siree Bob, I got the apartment, yes I did. There's more, but I will tell you that when I move in, k? For now I have to finish helping my mom move, pack my own stuff, and get over the latest wave of sickness...I was getting better, really I was, but that darn cold decided to go worse. Now I have neon bodily fluids. YUMMMM. But who wants to know that? Could everyone please stop asking me if

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1096927353293610962004-10-04T14:53:00.000-07:002004-10-04T15:02:33.296-07:00

Thursday night after yet another night at Mom’s house slaving away preparing for the garage sale, it was sprung upon me the hostess duties of the Big and Coco birthday bash including dinner preparation. Used to the late notice, I drove home from Mom’s house at 11pm, cleaned the messes that had accumulated since my illness began, and looked for a good lasagna recipe per my brother’s request.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1096573436768101032004-09-30T13:35:00.000-07:002004-10-04T14:51:52.866-07:00

Last night after hours at my mother’s house, I went home exhausted, crawled into bed and watched three hours of reality TV – America’s Next Top Model, followed by The Apprentice and Wife Swap. These shows all shared a commonality – yelling. Yelling because this black girl acts too white, yelling because this lady is a horrible project manager, yelling because not everyone lives in a

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1096483021784889292004-09-29T11:34:00.000-07:002004-09-29T11:37:01.786-07:00

Still sick – but out of the misery stage and just in the annoying stage where the symptoms are just reluctant to take the hint and leave – y’know, the kinda stuffy nose, the half-hearted cough, the sneezes that just don’t come. My focus now goes back to my fungus-infested fingernail. I still haven’t taken care of it, and I suppose I should because it is still swollen and goes through painful

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1096324559719855102004-09-27T15:18:00.000-07:002004-09-27T15:47:17.726-07:00

Like I said, I hate being sick. Perhaps that is why I am still sick. The gods of sickness could sense my distaste for their gifted malady and have decided to extend my misery. So nice of them. Friday after work I picked up Bubba, drove straight home and fell into bed. Except for one crawled trip to the facilities, I didn’t move the entire night. Poor Bubba. I couldn’t be bothered to get up to

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1096061799319190612004-09-24T14:21:00.000-07:002004-09-24T15:19:16.533-07:00

I hate being sick. I hate the feeling that my head is stuffed with cotton balls, my nose with slime, and my chest with marbles. I hate trying to hold my head up at work for eight hours straight while I do nothing better than reading the archives of other people's blogs, which in the case of Blonde Champagne is actually a treat. I hate that we are having an absolutely beautiful day (one of the

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095978507368683052004-09-23T15:23:00.000-07:002004-09-23T15:28:27.370-07:00

My boss has a big brown stain on his rear. It wasn't there before. Since my job includes all of the other mundane and at times humiliating tasks the head honchos can contrive - does it also fall to me to tell him about the mishap on his ass? Wouldn't you want to know?

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095975865246921532004-09-23T14:41:00.000-07:002004-09-23T14:45:20.603-07:00

Note to annoying people who incessantly call my place of work: No, I don't know how long the meeting will last, and I haven't a clue when the conference call will be over. Your guess is as good as mine. Just leave him/her a voice mail and wait for his/her happy ass to get back to you. Thanks.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095973917718969282004-09-23T14:09:00.000-07:002004-09-23T14:11:57.716-07:00

This guy sold a pen to exorcise memories of his bad relationship - think it'd work for me?

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095971033391795152004-09-23T13:20:00.000-07:002004-09-23T13:23:53.390-07:00

If only I had known being a heiress was so easy. This would never have been an issue.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095874833692364162004-09-22T10:42:00.000-07:002004-09-22T10:40:33.693-07:00

Yesterday morning I went out to my Durango and discovered that the night before I had left my window open a crack. I inwardly admonished myself, and was prepared to think no more of it. But then I tried to start my truck – nothing. I tried again – nothing. I looked around the vehicle…I hadn’t left anything on – I never do. But then I noticed that things weren’t as I left them. It looked as

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095708525205705072004-09-20T13:28:00.000-07:002004-09-21T13:36:56.023-07:00

Wednesday marks the first day of fall, and I must say that I am not pleased about that - not one little bit. Seeing my breath in the morning is growing in frequency and will soon be an everyday occurrence, the windows on my car are covered with condensation, which I hate to wipe off because I am usually running late, so therefore create a rolling hazard wagon since I can’t see out my windows

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095455761325573272004-09-17T14:14:00.000-07:002004-09-17T14:25:00.110-07:00

"You were all the things I thought I knew And I thought we could be You were everything, everything that I wanted We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it And all of the memories, so close to me, just fade away All this time you were pretending So much for my happy ending" -Avril Lavigne

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095371039047629282004-09-16T14:20:00.000-07:002004-09-16T15:19:20.493-07:00

Kids are cute, right? Yeah, they are cute, right up until the age when they start embarrassing you in public. The other day I made a trip to the grocery store, which I usually try to do when Bubba is with X, but I couldn’t avoid it any longer, so we were there together. She sat in the cart in the freezer section, as I tried to choose between frozen pizzas, and announced, “Look, Mommy, there’s

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095287176975439932004-09-16T10:17:00.000-07:002004-09-16T10:16:03.170-07:00

Very few desserts are more delicious to eat and to look at. A classic finale to a meal, crème brulee can be served slightly warm or chilled. -What's Cooking America

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095352015711127192004-09-15T15:25:00.000-07:002004-09-16T09:26:55.713-07:00

"I've been rich and I've been poor; rich is better." -Sophie Tucker

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095273682734658672004-09-15T11:36:00.000-07:002004-09-15T11:41:22.733-07:00

For a girl who loves clothes and shoes even more, a life where the bank account is drained by rent, one stop to the grocery store ($40) and one gas tank deposit ($20) isn’t the rosiest. I am making it, but only by the skin of my teeth (which haven’t seen the dentist in a while because I can’t afford the cavities). My daughter’s pants are turning into high waters (thank God she is skinny because

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7622892.post-1095127697113034202004-09-13T19:02:00.000-07:002004-09-13T20:52:24.950-07:00

This morning I woke up exhausted. I still haven't recovered from my sleepless weekend and sleepless week, but nevertheless I awoke with a smile on my face. It was as if I had awaken to the most beautiful spring morning and the sun was shining down upon me. It was a beautiful day despite the clouds and the mist and the cold. I was happy.

The Narcissisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639975690931345396noreply@blogger.com