Raw, but c*nsored blabbing and blogging of a young journalista
and local news producer in Southern New England.
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Today on TopStoryLive:
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Why all the lament, bitch?
So the reason I came to Panera in the first place ... last Wednesday ... was to extend the blogging time so I could discuss some of the other things that have been desponding me lately, besides my job.
• • •
Loneliness. Yeah, the 'rents were here last week week before last (see below) but that's vastly different than hanging out with friends or snuggling up to a boyfriend. I am really given up on • finding a boyfriend • hanging out on the online chatrooms to get to know guys who might become some kind of boyfriend • trying not to be desperate in the hope that a boyfriend will materialize when I'm NOT looking for one • trying to get involved with local groups of guys to get to know guys who might become some kind of boyfriend • trying to lose weight so I get down to a fighting weight; I'll only be able to exercise with an average/occasional regimen, unless I hire out for someone to lock me away in a boot camp for at least a month to make me into a knockout. Then again, I can just try to find somebody like myself who's my age too • being turned off by all the older (10 years or more???) guys who seem like they're looking for an easy screw because I'm just homely enough and lacking plenty of self-esteem so they might actually have a chance when they come over, put their arm around me and give me a big smile. Disgusting.
My hope is that maybe something will progress as I get to know guys in the industry. Of course I always have to expect the worst (nothing) but hope for the best.
• • •
Mom and Dad. Okay, they love to say I can't stand them, and at certain moments of the day when they're getting on my nerves they are RIGHT! But you guys (since you are apparently my biggest readers), relax.
Of course this is the pot telling the kettle to be orange.
Tuesday night: Shortly after they arrive my mother says, you know, we've never been to the Cape. Um, you know, Mom, it might have been a good idea to bring this up BEFORE the trip.
The oven is really smelly with natural gas. I say it seems like the pilot light went out. My poor parents endure it and beseech me to call the landlord to fix it.
Wednesday: The apartment management company's handyman comes while I'm in the shower. My parents let him in and he relights the pilot light. VOOM! Oven back in business. My dad shows me what happened. I keep him from lighting the oven while a cover is off; I really don't want it aflame with natural gas when it doesn't need to be.
Lunch at Cafe Luna at Garden City. I really need to go there more often. It's nice, though loud.
We get in my car and make the onerous hour-long journey to IKEA in Stoughton, Mass. Apparently the directions ?
Route 24 (Exit 4 on I-93) to Exit 19B (Central St.). Take a right at the first traffic light (Stockwell Dr.) and take that all the way to the end, which is IKEA Way.
Also note that it is right next to Jordan's Furniture and (Price)Costco of Stoughton.
never showed up on my computer when I looked the place up.
IKEA is another bloggable entry entirely. It's a museum. I buy a comfy queen-size pillow for $9.99 and two mousepads that are 49¢ each. One is now on my desk at work. The other was simply just because. I hold off on buying a chest of drawers and bookcase that will hopefully give my apartment the storage it so badly needs. (Too many clothes and books.)
Thursday: I wake up as late as I can, but not that late. We do Starbucks for breakfast, then Home Depot for towel racks.
To drill into the wall, instead of just screwing the screws into the plaster, we ponder getting me a power drill. I am totally against the idea because I don't want to buy an appliance that you have to charge and crud. "What we need," we conclude, "is a push drill." You know, spring-loaded, push on the thing and the drill or screwdriver turns.
Naturally, in this day and age of MORE POWER! AR! AR! AR! AR! AR! AR! (thank you Tim Allen) nobody is selling anything of that sort widespread. After checking out a few more stores, we buy a drill bit at Sears. (Wait for it...)
While I head off to my volunteer gig for a couple hours of concentration, Mom pins up the curtains to a reasonable height with safety pins, so that they are not being held up by potato chip bag clips, and not dragging on the floor right next to the baseboard heaters. Dad takes the drill bit, tapes a bunch of duct tape on the bit that the drill would hold, and in acts of sheer masochism drills holes in the wall by hand for the towel racks.
By the time I get back they have gotten bored enough that Dad is vacuuming! I forget what Mom was doing, but I can't help but be grateful.
Friday: Though flurries are in the forecast, we go south on route 4 through Narragansett to Point Judith, for the 1 PM Block Island Ferry.
(Those who know it may begin humming the Block Island Ferry song in the background.)
It's been a while since I've been on a boat of any sort. Especially in windy weather.
(Those who are humming the Block Island Ferry song should begin swaying to and fro, and maneuvering the tunes they hum while they do, so as to imitate a boat on a rocky sea.)
Let's just say buying some Orangina during the trip over was a waste. Oh, and it was plenty shaken. It makes me wonder why the onboard snack bar has posted, "NO BOOZE 'TILL WE CRUISE."
Coming back from the bathroom I noticed several people were simply lying down on the bench seats -- how could they sleep with all the sway? I'd like to know where... they got the notion... ...but anyway, I tried lying down and I felt a little better while I waited for dry land.
Block Island is pretty. It is probably much prettier when it is not DECEMBER. Add to that warmer and more populated. And what's more, it's hunting season.
We had a good lunch. At about two in the afternoon on a Friday afternoon, we were likely the only people in the place besides the help. Then, we walked a loop that was either two or four miles. It was cold. But it was different.
Once we were done we were glad to wait inside somewhere until the ferry arrived. On the trip back I tried closing my eyes, putting my head down, and working my way through a cup of ice.
It being late in the evening we were hard pressed to find a place to eat around Point Judith; we ended up running across Cafe Newport, the more upscale Newport Creamery pilot location, and had a bite, but no Awful Awfuls.
Saturday, Mom and Dad went home. And I tried to get some sleep before I went in to work but not so much. Ah, well. Nice visit.
• • •
...I dunno. Since I started this entry 7 days ago approximately I've had another couple decent shows. Gotten farther away from the lamentable stuff. Gotten a teeny-weeny inspiration or two, this and that.
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