I have watched more CSI episodes than I care to admit and the guy at DVD Noveau cares to give to me. To my dismay I have learned if a bit involuntarily, that most of the stuff they do on the show is not really real and the police don’t actually work like this. When I first found out I was shocked and quite a bit disappointed; I thought unlike SA’s police force, NYPD was living in the land of Obama and endless possibilities.
Yesterday I was especially hit hard by this reality as I could have used some digital magic and cross-referencing of cell phone signals and such. My lawyer told me that the sheriff was unable to deliver summons to the evil travel agent as the address I had given was locked and vacant. Did I have another one? Mh. No. Luckily the internet is my friend and though CSI is not real, I am a super sneaky spy when I need to be. In fact, thanks to Facebook stalking, aren’t we all these days?
Anyhow, I put my skills to good use only to find out more horror stories about the woman and to learn that I am apparently not the first to send summons and waiting for funds from foreclosed auctions.
I cried a bit on my way through Garden Centre and when I got home decided the moping needed to stop. Instead of pondering upon the crappy year I’ve had so far, I tried to list the things to be grateful for. This went well for the parts of I made some awesome new friends, went on three trips, had a really horrible attempt at a relationship, but I learned - Flip! What did I learn? I don’t think whatever I did learn was worth the effort, but was faced with the task to turn it into something to be grateful for. That’s when karma kicked me in the butt and I found stinky maggots in my trash. Again. Luckily I had already taken my contact lenses out so they were a bit fuzzy, which was a good thing. They had also mainly stayed in the confinement of the trash cupboard and I hadn’t had dinner yet, which was also a very good thing. Have I mentioned that sight of maggots makes me gag? I think their only useful purpose in the world is to eat rotten flesh out of wounds and thus save lives. Then again I saw them do that on Bones and after learning the truth about CSI, I should be more suspicious of what is true on any given show really.
So, no I don’t believe that maggots have a soul and I don’t care about finding a maggot friendly way to kill them. That is that and there is no need to go all P.E.T.A. on me when I say, I enjoyed the little popping sound they make when being squashed by a paper towel. That was about all I could enjoy about the process and thus I found the reason to be grateful for my past relationship: Love is when he cleans her flat of maggots. Another reason to be grateful for is learning that I can do it myself and unsupervised wine consumption helps while doing it.
The rest of my evening was blissfully uneventful and I amused myself with having a funny dream about said ex-boyfriend. So what can I say? This being grateful business really does work…
Showing posts with label ex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ex. Show all posts
November 14, 2012
August 17, 2012
Pastaholic on holiday.
I could tell you the story of how I got really annoyed with my ex this morning and consequently unfriended him this time. But I already had a nice gossip with my friend about it and Vacation Me is nudging me in the side, telling me to let it go and come out to play. To my big surprise I want to oblige.
My bag is pretty much packed, the list of last minute things to buy is small, all errands are ran, the Kindle is full, and the pastaholic in me is getting very excited for all the couscous I will be getting soon. I have nothing left to do but some leisurely yoga, a final dinner with my friend Kate, and one more sleep. After this there will be silence from me till September as I shall be in Morocco and the Airbook will not. I heard camels and Airbooks are no fans of each other. Unfortunately I’m also not organized enough these days to schedule posts while I’m gone so you will have to do without me for a little bit.
Before I go I quickly wanted to pad myself on the shoulder as this is the 250th post I have written. Whoop whoop. Yesterday I read the 1st and 100th post again and it made me smile – check it out! For number 250 I will leave you with a goodbye, a see you soon, and a bit of Dr. Seuss, which I love:
My bag is pretty much packed, the list of last minute things to buy is small, all errands are ran, the Kindle is full, and the pastaholic in me is getting very excited for all the couscous I will be getting soon. I have nothing left to do but some leisurely yoga, a final dinner with my friend Kate, and one more sleep. After this there will be silence from me till September as I shall be in Morocco and the Airbook will not. I heard camels and Airbooks are no fans of each other. Unfortunately I’m also not organized enough these days to schedule posts while I’m gone so you will have to do without me for a little bit.
Before I go I quickly wanted to pad myself on the shoulder as this is the 250th post I have written. Whoop whoop. Yesterday I read the 1st and 100th post again and it made me smile – check it out! For number 250 I will leave you with a goodbye, a see you soon, and a bit of Dr. Seuss, which I love:
July 17, 2012
Sorry!
Yesterday I did something I have never done before. I deleted one of my own posts. I realized I had actually upset someone by writing it. I didn’t stick to the I’d rather be nice than be right motto I’m working on. I realized this only after I wrote it, published it, and was faced with the consequences.
When you complain somewhere about a restaurant or a business they ignore you in the worst case scenario. Sometimes they will at least apologize and if you get lucky they will comp you a meal or send you a freebie of some sort. An ex will usually be pissed at you for being called out so now it’s the best case scenario if he ignores you. In worst case scenario you will be unfriended on Facebook and called the crazy one in any further conversations your name pops up. What you will never get is a satisfying explanation or apology from an ex for anything that he may have done or not done. It just happens and things do and that means usually it is just time to move on. Because in the end it doesn’t matter whether you had a valid point or not, a personal blog is not Hello Peter for ex-boyfriends. At least not for the ones you still care about.
I have a hard time with moving on, so naturally I would be upset when any ex of mine has a new girlfriend and it’s okay to be upset for a moment. Not okay is for me to pretend he owes me an explanation or apology for it. He doesn’t and at the end of the day I just have to admit the fact that it upsets me that he has moved on and not that he didn’t tell me about.
So there. I admit the real reason why I was such a bitch yesterday.
After a horrible day, I took myself home, nursed with red wine and pasta, and finally deleted the post. Then I went to bed and for the first time in almost a year took out my diary and started writing. Realizing that there is a right place to write and complain and whine about all the things I needed to in order to feel better. Funny enough the last time I wrote something in my journal, I wrote about how it’s so much easier to be angry than to be sad. Like attack seems the best defence. Boy, I may have been right with that, but the whole idea is quite wrong. It may have just cost me a friend.
Today the world seems different and I blame it equally on last night’s revelations and this morning’s sunshine. So I thought I should sneak in a giraffe just for good measure. Don’t roll your eyes, this one is special. My Dad scanned it for me and emailed it. A picture my brother drew of my Mum and me when I was just born. I guess he thought it appropriate to picture us as giraffes because my Mum’s neck is really long and I was just huge (59cm!!!) in general. So now you know why I had no choice from the start but to love giraffes!
When you complain somewhere about a restaurant or a business they ignore you in the worst case scenario. Sometimes they will at least apologize and if you get lucky they will comp you a meal or send you a freebie of some sort. An ex will usually be pissed at you for being called out so now it’s the best case scenario if he ignores you. In worst case scenario you will be unfriended on Facebook and called the crazy one in any further conversations your name pops up. What you will never get is a satisfying explanation or apology from an ex for anything that he may have done or not done. It just happens and things do and that means usually it is just time to move on. Because in the end it doesn’t matter whether you had a valid point or not, a personal blog is not Hello Peter for ex-boyfriends. At least not for the ones you still care about.
I have a hard time with moving on, so naturally I would be upset when any ex of mine has a new girlfriend and it’s okay to be upset for a moment. Not okay is for me to pretend he owes me an explanation or apology for it. He doesn’t and at the end of the day I just have to admit the fact that it upsets me that he has moved on and not that he didn’t tell me about.
So there. I admit the real reason why I was such a bitch yesterday.
After a horrible day, I took myself home, nursed with red wine and pasta, and finally deleted the post. Then I went to bed and for the first time in almost a year took out my diary and started writing. Realizing that there is a right place to write and complain and whine about all the things I needed to in order to feel better. Funny enough the last time I wrote something in my journal, I wrote about how it’s so much easier to be angry than to be sad. Like attack seems the best defence. Boy, I may have been right with that, but the whole idea is quite wrong. It may have just cost me a friend.
Today the world seems different and I blame it equally on last night’s revelations and this morning’s sunshine. So I thought I should sneak in a giraffe just for good measure. Don’t roll your eyes, this one is special. My Dad scanned it for me and emailed it. A picture my brother drew of my Mum and me when I was just born. I guess he thought it appropriate to picture us as giraffes because my Mum’s neck is really long and I was just huge (59cm!!!) in general. So now you know why I had no choice from the start but to love giraffes!
August 24, 2011
Island life.
One of my ex boyfriends is moving to Canada. In a way this is neither here nor there; we are long done and over with so I don’t really care where he lives, but I’m happy if he is happy. In general I do think it is a good idea for ex boyfriends* to move far away though. It should become an official break-up rule. Especially the ones that only recently became an ex and you realize that out of sight doesn’t immediately mean out of mind. I for once would like to bring some more distance between us to be on the safe side. The kind where you don’t need to wonder about running into him at the groceries in the standard scenario of – you un-showered, sweat pants, out to buy PMS chocolates and rent a sad movie – he with someone gorgeous, who looks like she has never even heard of PMS.
Of course I’m painting a worst case picture, but we all know it can happen just too easily. You can even avoid all familiar territory, but it’s still easy enough to just to run into an ex at a gallery opening, realizing you have common interests you never knew of, and choke on the olive in your martini. In my case this is unlikely as I don’t drink martinis anymore since I broke the martini rule – different story for a different time – and got sick, but you get my point. Murphy’s Law is having a field trip with running-into-your-ex-in-inconvenient-moments incidences. I once worked a promotion in Cologne for an audio book fair. We had to do a variety of activities wearing oversized Styrofoam headphones to show you can listen to audio books anytime. I got lucky and had to just lie on a couch in the middle of a busy shopping street. It was embarrassing enough I thought, but then I saw another girl who had to work out on a stepmaster with her headphones. Later she told us that on top of it all, her ex passed by with his new girlfriend.
In order to avoid any of these scenarios I wish ex’es would just move away. One could even make a television show, call it X-ile© and fly a whole bunch to a deserted island in the Pacific, where they can do no more harm. I don’t even mind if they get a nice trip and a better life out of it, as long as I can have my town back to myself. I also think it would make for a fun show, as long as you are watching someone else’s ex, so I think the ratings would be good too. It may just make for better television and a better world in general.
Island show or just moving to another place will also give the ex’es in question the chance to redeem themselves a bit by showing such courtesy and consideration. Depending on the degree they have hurt you (or just annoyed you in case you were the one breaking up) they must either cross one boarder, a continent, one or two oceans.
In case you are an ex boyfriend of someone and don’t care about being considered, just remember, karma is a bitch...
In case you wonder...I’m not sure what brought up this surge of cynicism on my side as I haven’t had any recent run-ins like the above. I guess the idea of it is enough to drive me a bit crazy right now.
I shall be off now, island scouting. And no, not to see if they are suitable for any ex boyfriends, but suitable for my Dad and my annual Christmas trip!
*I would also out of personal interest very much like to include what I like to call ‘unsuccessful love interests’ in this group. They should in fact put an ocean between me and them.
Of course I’m painting a worst case picture, but we all know it can happen just too easily. You can even avoid all familiar territory, but it’s still easy enough to just to run into an ex at a gallery opening, realizing you have common interests you never knew of, and choke on the olive in your martini. In my case this is unlikely as I don’t drink martinis anymore since I broke the martini rule – different story for a different time – and got sick, but you get my point. Murphy’s Law is having a field trip with running-into-your-ex-in-inconvenient-moments incidences. I once worked a promotion in Cologne for an audio book fair. We had to do a variety of activities wearing oversized Styrofoam headphones to show you can listen to audio books anytime. I got lucky and had to just lie on a couch in the middle of a busy shopping street. It was embarrassing enough I thought, but then I saw another girl who had to work out on a stepmaster with her headphones. Later she told us that on top of it all, her ex passed by with his new girlfriend.
In order to avoid any of these scenarios I wish ex’es would just move away. One could even make a television show, call it X-ile© and fly a whole bunch to a deserted island in the Pacific, where they can do no more harm. I don’t even mind if they get a nice trip and a better life out of it, as long as I can have my town back to myself. I also think it would make for a fun show, as long as you are watching someone else’s ex, so I think the ratings would be good too. It may just make for better television and a better world in general.
Island show or just moving to another place will also give the ex’es in question the chance to redeem themselves a bit by showing such courtesy and consideration. Depending on the degree they have hurt you (or just annoyed you in case you were the one breaking up) they must either cross one boarder, a continent, one or two oceans.
In case you are an ex boyfriend of someone and don’t care about being considered, just remember, karma is a bitch...
In case you wonder...I’m not sure what brought up this surge of cynicism on my side as I haven’t had any recent run-ins like the above. I guess the idea of it is enough to drive me a bit crazy right now.
I shall be off now, island scouting. And no, not to see if they are suitable for any ex boyfriends, but suitable for my Dad and my annual Christmas trip!
*I would also out of personal interest very much like to include what I like to call ‘unsuccessful love interests’ in this group. They should in fact put an ocean between me and them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
