That Kind of Tired.

That kind of tired, when you have no idea how you made it home but you’re so glad you did.

That kind of tired, when you sit down at your computer, you realize that you have no idea why you even bothered to turn it on.

That kind of tired, when you linger in the shower in hopes that the water droplets can somehow substitute your warm comforter.

That kind of tired that while you're in the shower you keep your eyes closed and try not to lose your balance completely.

That kind of tired when you almost forget to take out your contact lenses before getting into bed.
That kind of tired when you can’t remember if you set the car alarm or not; and you don’t bother to double check.

That kind of tired when you make sure to turn off your alarm and your cell phone; you don’t even want to think about waking up the next day.

That kind of tired when you accidentally, momentarily, doze off during sex: and your partner knows it because you snorted.

That kind of tired when even though you usually sleep on your stomach, you end up drifting off while you're still on your back.

That’s how tired I am right now,

That kind of tired.

Urinus, Uranus

So I was getting ready for work the other day and the PBS channel was on in my room. There was a children's animated science show on at the time, which I easily ignored; up until I heard one of the characters say Urinus (Urine-us) WHAT? I mean what are they trying to pull? That’s not the way my teachers said it. It was always Uranus (Your-anus). Right?

It’s plain as day; if I was texting this blog I could type, “Ur anus” and you’d totally understand. If I’m wrong, someone please tell me that I was cursed with some perverted in the closet teachers but otherwise… Seriously, is this what they are teaching the next generation, urine -us? My gosh can you honestly say that, THAT is any better? I mean why even bother?

I confronted my daughter:
“Honey, does your teacher say Uranus or Urinus?” I asked.
She immediately responded with, “Urine is Peeeeeee!”

I rest my case.

What I really want to know is who made that executive decision? I could see it now, over at NASA:

“Well while we’re demoting Pluto, why don’t we just go on ahead and change the pronunciation of Uranus to Urine-us.”

Suddenly I’m thinking of the chicken and the egg conundrum. Which came first? Uranus or Your Anus?…Your-in-us? I don’t mean to be obsessive, butt it is what it is.

Okay, it comes down to this, either way is acceptable though some think that saying Urine-us really fast is less embarrassing to say than Uranus; whatever.

I can’t rant like that and leave you hanging so here are some honest factoids.

Uranus is the seventh planet from the Sun, the third largest planet and fourth most massive in our Solar System. It was the first to be discovered using a telescope on March 13, 1781 by Sir William Herschel, who wanted to name it after King George III. It was later named Uranus; the Latinized version of the Greek God of the sky. Uranus is the Father of Kronos (Saturn), Grandfather of Zeus (Jupiter). Uranus is the only planet derived from Greek Mythology instead of a Roman.

Topic-Shoes

You know sometimes I think, “No…I won’t write that…it’s lame”. But then I remember that, this blog clearly states on the front page, “crap”. Though I don't think shoes are crap, and that is why I have written about them.

It seemed like all day the topic of shoes bombarded my aura like hail storm. At work the subject of my height came up and I made some comment like, “…and on top of that I had no shame wearing 4 inch heels”. That brought up the question, why do I no longer daunt such lovely footwear. Now for those of you who don’t know, I broke my back a few years ago in an inner-tube accident. I’m fine, I can walk and everything, but since then, my shoes have been...well, boring.

Funny how I ended up at the mall today with my sister who happened to be shoe shopping. I wasn’t much help to her as we have different tastes and even though I can not partake in wearing such cute things, my true shoe fetish has remained unchanged; black, 3 ½ inch + heels. It got to a point where I was picking out shoes for her to try on. My feet rested and happily enjoyed living vicariously through hers as she tried on pair after pair of shoes and sashayed around the store.

It was no joke when I confessed that even though I can’t wear 3 ½ inch heels, I still purchase them. My sister’s face went blank as she never sees me in these gorgeous shoes. I told her it’s because I can only wear them for as long as it takes to load the dishwasher or empty the garbage, then I have to remove them. If I feel the mood, I might consider blasting the radio and dance to half a song in them, but that’s about it. : (

Later, my sister told me that after the age of 30, a woman loses her balance and that is why it’s harder to walk in heels. She told me what exercises to do, and so I pray now to the shoe gods:

Give me the patients to continue working on my core and buttocks, so that I…may once again… glide into a room wearing 4-inch heels and they not have to just be my, “sitting shoes”.

-Amen

Snaps of me and my shoes enjoying happy times at home together.






Here is link to a stupid/funny music video that my nephew found about shoes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCF3ywukQYA

A Band and a Fan.

Fan: Anonymous until he gives me permission
Group: A.F.I.
Upcoming Album Title: Crash Love

On my Facebook profile, I have listed some of my favorite music and groups. A couple of weeks ago I was, “friend requested” by a stranger, a young man. He found me because I was like him, a fan of A.F.I. Though I will admit to following book series a bit obsessively, I am no longer someone who hangs off every quote a rock star or celebrity regurgitates. Ever since I “accept”-ed this young man’s request I have been feeling a slight nostalgia for a time when I did.

I learned that this young man had started an online group, titled “Crash Love” named after the music groups’ soon to be released album. Back in the day I don’t recall there being things like, “release dates” though I’m sure there were. Back then, I would simply hear a song on the radio and if I liked it, I would purchase the cassette (yes cassette) single. Till this day I follow the same rules; I have to like three or more singles to buy the entire album.

This young man seemed to have devoted a great deal of time locating every A.F.I. fan, including myself and asking us to join his “Crash Love” group. At one point he commented “…100 people overnight…”. Like a host at a party, he checked in with me (and I assume everyone he befriended) to see if we had joined the group. Honestly, when it came to A.F.I. I was completely content to listen to their current album. It would have been two years from now that I would have stopped somewhere and thought, “…Oh, I wonder if they ever made another album”. But because of this young man, I now know all kinds of up to date stuff on them.

A.F.I. has some seriously devoted fans, some who do not have 1, but 5 or more tattoos dedicated to them. Fans, who band together on “Twitter” to earn the song titles from “Crash Love”. (Check out “Twitter Troubles” to see how I feel about twitter). When I was younger I found myself a little fanatic about bands like, “Information Society” and “The Cure”. I remember shaving lines into the side of my head I still have seven piercings in my ears and to this day my favorite color is black. Perhaps those bands somehow influenced the fact that I ended up “behind the chair” where I can wear all the black I want and are exposed to crazy cuts and funky hair colors.

The young man’s “Crash Love” group page had a link to one of the band members’ blog; I was curious to learn if the band knew who the dedicated young man was. When I logged onto the blog and read: I found it funny, commited to fans and now I follow it.

For me a writer who is apprihensive to fame, it was good for me to experience a dedicated fan, or fans first hand, and to remember what it was like to be one of them. It was also refreshing to read the band members blog and how he has positively embraced the good bad and ugly sides of fame: old pictures that made it to the internet, drawings and rumors that fans or “haters” made and how much his fans mean to him. It’s up to the fame Gods, weather or not I become famous, but adding this young man as a “friend” and reading the band members blog somehow made my fears of success-a bit less.