A Little of This, a Little of That

So, I know what you're thinking--"where have you been?" Or, "oh, I didn't even notice you hadn't posted in the past five months. I have other things going on in my life." You're rude, OK? Don't pretend to be all nice and then say things like that.

I threw a bridal shower for a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago and I'm so relieved it's over. My friend is...shall we say high-maintenance? Yes, that is a good way to put it. So I figured anything I did wouldn't be good enough and certainly wouldn't be what she would want, which is a posh blow-out at a fancy restaurant. My apartment is many things, but it is neither posh nor fancy. She was very appreciative and pleasant, though, so I think perhaps I should try to table some of my resentment over doing something I didn't really mind doing, for someone who actually appreciated it.

Was that a weirdly worded and weirdly wordy paragraph? Yes, I believe it was.

In other news, my friend Laura is getting married in December. It is the antithesis of the wedding the shower recipient is having. Whereas Bride A is going all out, Laura is planning to get her flowers from Sam's Club and just put them wherever. I think it's going to be fun. It'll certainly be like no wedding I've ever been to before. We're all going to make a dish to bring to her Dad's house for the wedding. The wedding, weather permitting, will be in his backyard.

I did my semi-monthly desk clean-off ritual yesterday and discovered about 3 loaves' worth of bread crumbs hidden under a stack of papers. I swear, if this office building is ever infiltrated by ants, my office will be the first that is overrun.

And, lastly but certainly foremost on my mind, my Darlin' and I have broken up. It happened in July and I'm still having a hard time with it. We were together for almost four years. And I was so sure we were set for life. It's kind of embarrassing to think about how easily I let myself ignore all the signs that he wasn't going to marry me. And he's started seeing someone else. I knew he would, eventually, but did it have to be a month after we broke up? Ugh.

Anyway, I've been trying to distract myself with some quality Etsy shopping today at work, but I have just been feeling sick about it all day. I was actually doing pretty well with it--we were still hanging out, grabbing dinner together sometimes, talking and exchanging e-mails, and now I'm starting to feel all that rejection and pain that I felt when it first happened. That's enough of this talk. This is hard.

Seriously, Lady.

Why did you wait for me to start peeing to spark up a conversation in the bathroom? It wasn't an urgent conversation. Wait for me to finish. Sheesh.

Also, why is the font so huge on every Explorer page I open? I don't know things about computers.

Are you freakin' kidding me?

So, I have tried home bikini waxing before (abrupt change in blog tone, anyone?).  It didn't go well.  It just became a glob of hot wax mixed with hairs that refused to come out and me pulling, pulling, pulling at my skin, trying to figure out how to get the wax off without tearing off my flesh.  It turns out you have to let the wax cool.  OH. MY. GOD.  Had I known that this, THIS tiny little change in behavior could have saved me the mind-numbing agony of yanking warm, sticky wax off my very sensitive bikini area...oh, not to mention that I bought no fewer than 3 separate d-i-y bikini waxing kits.  Sheesh.

I suppose it could just be that (a) I didn't read the directions and (b) I did not have any hands-on experience with at-home waxing growing up.  Not that I can really blame my Mom for not explaining the intricacies of at-home bikini area care*.  I mean, really--who wants to think of their mother in this context?  And for anyone out there thinking, "Well, your children need to develop a healthy understanding of sex and sexuality," I firmly believe that no good really comes of thinking about your mother's goodies attracting any sort of attention.

*She did, on the other hand, repeatedly stress the importance of not shaving our diego mustaches because they would grow back thicker.