do they have a 12 step program for that?

having spent the better part of a decade as either single or nearly single, i have a finely tuned, jaded part of me that can look past the romantic poetic vision of a relationship or single romantic act… and see it for the pathetic and/or nauseating display it is. (if you aren’t familiar with the term “nearly single” then it’s been a while since you’ve been there, now, hasn’t it?) even as i’m in the midst of a lasting relationship with someone i really love… i can pick out things i do and say and see the quality in it that could make someone physically ill. likewise, having been a permanent resident on the other side of the fence, i can also curb some of those gag-inducing actions to kind of respect the space of that single person who “doesn’t really want to hear it.” what i’m really trying to say is… well, it’s pathetic and nausating. i know that… but i can’t quit. i also know some of ya’ll will think it’s the most adorable, romantic thing you’ve heard all day… and it’s either because you are a hopeless romantic, or you are in one of those disgustingly sweet relationships that make the rest of the population hurl. i thought i managed to eradicate the inner hopeless romantic in myself… but it turns out he’s just tied and gagged in the corner. apparently he got a hold of a pencil and has been trying to write occasional messages to me by gripping it with his toes… which could completely explain the interesting choices of gifts for the last several valentine’s days… but that’s a whole other story…*sigh* …so i miss my girlfriend. a lot. i miss everything about her… but it seems to be worse at night, when i have time to lie awake and think. so every night i take her sweatshirt… which doesn’t smell like her anymore, but it’s *her’s* and therefore like a part of her… and wrap it around me and fall asleep with it blanketing me. yes, i am 29 years old, and i have a blanky. for those of you that feel the urge to vomit, please turn away from the computer screen at this time… they don’t clean up nearly as well as you think they would…

oh for the love of...

so there’s some things you should never wish for… for instance, i said to myself yesterday, “hmmm… i haven’t had anything really humorous to write about recently…” basically i cursed myself. well, if that doesn’t set the scene, i don’t know what does. of course, there’s always the off chance that *i’m* the only one who finds this amusing… and that now i’ve set ya’ll up for a huge letdown. ohhh, the pressure…just for a little background… there’s been a lot of little projects going on here recently. one of which is that the showers needed to be caulked to be operational. having been an homeowner, and having caulked tubs and sinks on more than one occasion, i felt pretty comfortable taking on this project…well, a tube of silicone was found for me… mind you, i had no caulking gun… but a handle of a hammer would have to make due. (i’m certain someone’s father lived by the motto “the right tool for the right job”. mine shuts off a lawnmower that’s older than i am with a screwdriver… so the motto i know is “adapt and overcome”) so i removed the old caulk, mold, and other unmentionables with a pocket knife. (right tool, i’m sure) and sliced the tip of the tube to the recommended 45 degree angle. of course, *this* is about the moment that i noticed that the expiration date on the tube was approximately 2 years ago. hmmm… does silicone *really* expire? after all, it’s not a dairy product or anything… i’m going to smear it on the walls of a 25 year old shower, not dip my french fries in it… should be fine, right?…so insert the handle of the hammer, and a little pressure… and bingo…nothing. so a little harder… and nothing. (now, you *know* me at this point. what do *you* think I did?) so of course, i turned the whole thing so it was upside down (read: tip pointed skyward) and squeezed it between the shower floor and all the force i could put on it. well, when it finally gave, it really gave. all over the shower wall, floor, my pants, my hair, and even up my nose. i think i’m going to have to add that to my list of orifices that i don’t really want sealed with silicone. although, had i let it dry a bit, i could’ve had custom fitted nose plugs. add that to the “something about mary” look i had going on…now, while i could work it into a mean fauxhawk… i decided that the silicone look was a little too permanent for me. after lathering, rinsing, and repeating several times however… all i had succeeded in doing is spreading it in a even layer over every follicle on my head. now i looked like i should be attached to a long chain and swung as a weapon in some medieval battle. and as quiet as i tried to keep it, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed my incessant shampooing…so, that ya’ll may learn from my experience, the makeshift solution to removing silicone from your hair is WD40. this was suggested to me, and while i’m pretty sure it was really just to add insult to injury… or because the other all purpose “fix it” of the fire service wasn’t going to suffice in this situation (duct tape)… apparently WD40 will help in that situation. i ended up not shearing my shaggy, dirty surfer looking locks. i did smell kind of funny the rest of the day… as i was now freshly out of shampoo……on a separate note, WD40 did not out perform VO5 hot oil treatment in the latest survey…

calling dr. phil...

i’m struggling with a bit of a mental block when it comes to physical agility tests. it really doesn’t matter that right now i’m in great shape and *should* be able to pass… it’s really that i failed one, and therefore have this irritating mindset that i’m not going to pass. i created my own slump. since then, i’ve failed 2 physical agility tests that i had no business failing. if you asked me to tell you why, i couldn’t. i need the dr. phil of the sport psychology world. there’s nothing more debilitating than failing, for no apparent reason, and then finding yourself questioning whether you’re capable in the field or not. doubting whether you can get hired for another job. and all the other self doubts and anxieties that can rear their ugly head when they’re riding the waves of an effective blow to the ego. well, on my way back to my base, i got sidelined at HQ for a bit… mostly for inprocessing and to pick up another useless cert… but on our last night there we did an “SCBA confidence course”. basically an obstacle course, but one that they’d put 108 firefighters through so far, and only 17 or so had passed. no females. good odds. *sigh*basically to simulate blacked out conditions and being completely lost in a building… (mind you, a small building, but with 3 separate floors) well, for those of ya’ll who aren’t firefighters… crawling in 40 lbs of gear with a 35 lb pack in 90 degree heat and squeezing through openings, going up floors, down floors, searching for a way out… it can be a hell of a workout. i think i lost 5 lbs of water weight. …but the important part is that i made it out. it took me longer than anyone else, but i also had more air left than anyone on exit. basically, it was a little affirmation that i was looking for. now if i can just find a dept that’s hiring… and invest in hypnosis…

there should be warning signs...

people like me should not be allowed to own plants or lamps. and not just because it loans itself to some interesting poetry. really, i’m a dog person… bring me your leash when you want to walk… your ball when you want to play. bark at me when you’re hungry, thirsty, or need to go out. (is anyone else getting a grasp on why i was single for so long?) i’m good with interaction. i can’t read minds… i’m not part of the plant collective. i am *not* the person you want watering your plants while you’re on sabbatical. really, i’m not much of a cat person either… but that’s a whole other journal entry…well, if you’ll remember… lamps are also subject to my “how much is *too* much” curiosity… there’s singed paint on the wall in my old room from the last lamp-turned-blowtorch. i had done really well since then… someone was nice enough to send me another lamp, which i had with a 220V to 110V converter and used for a few months without incident……so really, and i know i’ve said this before… but it’s really not my fault this time. i walked in the door after my 2 months absence… just glad to be back with a room of my own… and went to flip on my lamp. which was right where i left it. only, it didn’t turn on. so there i was in the dark… checking for a bulb. yep, got that… following the cord… hmmm… it wasn’t plugged in. so i plugged it in. and it lit the room brilliantly for about 12 seconds……which is about the same amount of time for me to think, “is that a 40W bulb? damn, that’s bright. wait, something’s missing. a converter. i know i had a converter. where is my converter…?!”…and with a loud snap and hiss, the bulb exploded and ricocheted off the floor… leaving the room in darkness again after i grabbed the fire extinguisher. the smoke only set off one detector, but i managed to cause a power outage in 3 rooms. …and so it begins…

and we're off, again...

ah, travel. there’s nothing like the freedom of having your bag on your back, the ticket in your hand, and being frisked head to toe while in your stocking feet. *sigh* after the dozens of flights i had over the last couple of months… culminating with the delightful 18 hour trip back to the middle east… i am really, really sick of flying. i have also become somewhat of a connoisseur of the customer service of the airline industry. i could tell you which airlines seem to handle delays better than others… which ones have the best beverage and snack services… which ones have damaged my luggage the least… and (of course) which one i will *not* be giving my money to again. …losing your luggage may be an inconvenience in the states. try doing it where the native language is arabic. somewhere between houston, london, and dubai, they lost one of my two bags. luckily, being as worn out and lethargic from allergies as i was, i had no interest in doing anything but sleeping… which is good… because all my civvy clothes, my workout clothes, my running shoes… yeah, all in that bag. and amazingly enough, the powers that be don’t really want you wearing your uniform though the streets of a middle eastern country. they want you to “blend in”. yeah… short, white lesbians blend so well in countries where the average female is covered head to toe in black. anyways… so i slept, and i watched tv……there’s nothing lonelier than watching hotel tv with nothing better to do and no one to talk to. although flipping through 20 some arabic channels with english subtitles has got a unique air of isolation to it. i got to watch some arabic MTV, and one of the world cup games. couldn’t tell you who was playing… i’m not a big enough soccer fan to know the teams on sight. i did find one of the only 2 english based channels and watched the same two episodes of “king of queens” about 3 times through until I fell back asleep… some jokes never get old. unfortunately, KOQ isn’t one of them…