Which Sock is Whiter?

Have you ever seen that laundry commercial where the guy has two socks on a board and one is whiter than the other one and he runs around harassing people about which one is whiter?

When I came home from the eye doctor the other day, I was telling Eric about my delightful little eye problem and that commercial came on in the background during a lull in the conversation.

Eric gives me a hug and says "Just so you know, it really is the left one that is dimmer."

"THANK YOU! I was totally just wondering that!"

And that right there is one of the many reasons why I keep him around.

That Explains a Lot

I got an eye exam today. My eyes apparently puzzled the eye doctor. So much so that he used more machinery in FIVE different rooms than I have ever seen in an eye exam before. It took AN HOUR AND A HALF. The diagnosis?

Apparently staring at a computer screen for 16 hours a day was really good for my up-close vision. So much so that he was really starting to wonder. Unfortunately, my far-away vision is fuxored in the extreme. He quietly asked "Do you drive?" I responded "No, I usually take public transportation or Eric will drive me." to which he said under his breath "Thank God for that."

In the end, I needed glasses, which I already knew. But apparently, I needed two different pairs of glasses, which sucked. I bought the first pair today, and will have to wait for the second pair until I get paid again.

The second pair? Apparently my left eye has just decided to take a vacation. Like - yeah, I'm outta here. You take over righty!

He kept switching the lenses  saying "Do you see a difference? Anything? ANYTHING AT ALL ENNA? ENNA ARE YOU AWAKE?" Apparently he was switching just the left lens on the big ole torture-looking eye machine. Apparently he switched to something that an elderly person would need and I saw ...no difference.

At which point he stopped and decided to test if I was blind in one eye. But first, he sat down, rubbed his temples, and asked "Enna honey are you blind? Is that why you don't drive. You can tell me if you are blind, I can take it. You just have so much cornea damage and you don't seem to see a difference in lenses unless I do both your eyes at the same time. I need to know - are you blind? Are you just dicking me around?"

I was like "Not the last time I checked. I just wrote a book, and I am pretty sure you need sight to do that." (NOTICE THAT SHAMELESS "I-JUST-WROTE-A-BOOK" DROP RIGHT THERE? I HAVE BEEN DOING THAT ALL WEEK!)

So, he does a number of tests which frustrate him to no end.

Finally, he does a test which actually SHOWS me how blind I am in my left eye.

"Enna, did you notice the difference on that last one?"

"Yes, did you turn on the light when you switched to the right?"

"No."

"And these are the same lenses?"

"Yes"

"Shit."

"Exactly"

So, apparently the left eye is SIGNIFICANTLY dimmer and out of focus than the right. It was literally like night and day.

Next time I get paid, IT IS ON. The new glasses won't restore or even fix my sight in my left eye, but it was stop the progression of blindness that is taking over, which I find slightly comforting in a weird way.

Like my left eye was like "Ahhhh you caught me! You totally caught me! Ok ok, I'll be good. But only if you drop $500 in two weeks on glasses. You gotta EARN your sight little lady!"

"And don't go cheap on this. But these glasses NOW or you might be blind in less than ten years. This has progressed rapidly in the last three years." He said as he left the room.

Dammit does this man know me or what? He knew I was sitting there saying "Yeah, but how much is my eyesight really worth?"

But...I'm Quirky!

First, let's start by reading this, which will put this post in perspective.

I'm quirky. I also kinda look like Zooey's ugly younger sister who got what was left when the good genes in the genepool were all used up.

But, I am also clumsy and do not think out my quirky plans. For instance, I was once dating a guy, and I decided to build a giant middle finger out of pencils in his bedroom. Why? Sheer mayhem mixed with a little quirkiness. Plus he had more pencils in his room than an Office Depot.

So, a middle finger was construted on a giant hand using only wire hangers, pencils, and scotch tape. I was studying sculpture at the time, and I did a pretty damned good job if I do say so myself. I mean, when he came into the room, he instantly noticed a four foot sculpture that wasn't there 20 minutes before was giving him the finger. Oh, I think I used a little string too.

What I did not plan out, however, was his cat taking an IMMEDIATE interest in the sculpture and pouncing on it. The cat destroyed that thing, and then went NUTS. When it pounced, the sculpture collapsed on it and some of the pencils stabbed the cat. Apparently, this guy liked his pencils SHARP (he was later diagnosed with OCD, which kinda makes sense because really he was the neatest person ever but then kinda doesn't make sense because he was dating ME. I am a walking, talking OCD attack waiting to happen.)

We ended up chasing the cat around his house pulling pencils out of it the rest of the night.

I guess what I am trying to say is that there's still some of us quirky ladies out there in the world (sans daddy issues and a shaved head, thank you) but as we grow older we learn to control our quirkiness to a time and place that it would be appropriate. For instance, I am writing this from a couch cushion and pillow fort in my living room. Appropriate amount of quirky for the environment? You bet your ass!

And later? When I fart in my fort and stink it up, will I drag Eric into it to torture him? You are damned right I will. Ok, maybe that's not quirky, maybe that's just mean.  I'll ask him in about 30 seconds when he gets in here....

OH ERIC! COME SEE THIS AWESOME FORT I MADE!

Sallie Mae Needs to Shut Her Hillbilly Pie Hole

I got a text today from a number that is eerily similar to Sallie Mae's. If you don't know who Sallie Mae is, she's that obnoxious bitch who sounds like an innocent pigtailed hillbilly girl but really is a succubus who has a real hard-on for my tax return money. She's the whore who lends money for college. She's the lady who keeps threatening to break my thumbs, legs, and any other appendage she can get ahold of.

So, when I get a text from a number that is eerily similar to hers asking me what my address is, I reply back:

Who is this?

And when I get no reply, I send another text from my new Google Voice number:

NOT TODAY SALLIE MAE! You think you can get my address that easily?! HA! You lending whore!

Then...I found out it was my cousin. And then I felt all bashful and apologetic. But old girl Sallie Mae is a tricky one. She sent Eric something saying they were going to put a lean on his house for my debt, at which point he promptly called them up and ...well...let's just say if you work for Sallie Mae's customer service I probably owe you ONE HELLUVA  APOLOGY. He was not nice, to say the least.

I mean, I am paying her, I cannot understand why she is being so persistent...

OH RIGHT. I didn't pay her the entire time I was unemployed. I had forgotten about that. Well, she's getting her money now. But I hear weddings to your cousin can really cost a mint, so I guess she wants that back money too...

PS I have a Google Voice number! It's the greatest thing EVER. No, seriously, it is. When you call my google voice number, it rings every phone I have. Plus I can call anywhere in the US for FREE and send texts through it for FREE. GREATEST. INVENTION. EVER.

Oh Now She's Just Going to Talk About Her Book

Yes, yes I am. No, wait, no I'm not. Well, ok maybe.

This is going to be one of those diary-like posts that I hate to write but damned if I don't just keep writing them. I am occasionally an idiot, I swear.

Let me tell you, writing a book is hard. Keeping it quiet for a year is harder. So, let's start at the beginning.

When I started blogging a decade ago, I always intended what I wrote to end up being published in a format that...well...wasn't on Livejournal or OpenDiary or Blogger or Wordpress. Yeah, I am a blogging slut, I have been around the blogging block about 4 times now. The funny thing was, every time someone I knew discovered one of my blogs, I would instantly hit the delete button. But not this time. This time, I told every single person I knew that I was blogging and where to find my blog.

And there have been some pluses and minuses to that little bit of honesty. The plus side is a readership base that already knows my weird little quirks. The minus side is that sometimes I have to be less than honest in order to avoid offending anyone. Or to avoid getting sued. I mean really, I don't want to willingly contribute to your beer fund, let alone unwillingly and court ordered-ly contribute to it.

So, on with writing the book. I started writing it, and would rewrite my blog posts and add new stories. And I sat there and thought about adding stories that I knew would end up pissing someone off.

I turned out to be a coward and didn't write those stories in the book either.

Or, if you will, I Russed Out.

Russ, don't sue me, I promise I will buy you a beer.

This book came at the most perfect time it could have. It almost feels like the first half of my life has been ...imperfect. Not to say the whole thing was imperfect or that I am seeking perfection in my life, but more there have been a lot of things that have completely kicked my ass in this last year, and previous years.

And it feels like today is the last day of my imperfect life. I am actually excited about what is coming up. I am going back to school in the fall, Eric is moving up to a better position, our house is getting refinanced to a more affordable rate, my book is getting published, we will be leaving the country again on a grand adventure, we're going to Phoenix soon, and BY GOD it's SUMMER OUTSIDE! Summer revives me like nothing else. I don't know what it is about summer nights in Chicago, but there's this electricity of hope that just reverberates right into my soul.

What I hope you get from this post is the same feeling of hope that I have right now. I am walking out of the darkness into a very bright future. I know it isn't going to be all sunshine and roses, but even if it's not, it won't even come close to the muck I just waded through.

This post is also for someone else I know.  Welcome to the better half of your life too.

Now, I will leave you with a little song that has been picking me up as of late. Sorry for cutting this feel-goodery fest short, but there's a Chelsea game on! And if you don't know my soccer motto, here it is: It's not Man U, but I'll make do.

What's Up!

Enna walks in, looking relaxed, eating a popsicle.

Oh hi! How have you been? I guess you've been wondering where I have been this week, huh? Well, I took a mini writing vacation. It was awesome.

So what did I do while I was on this mini writing vacation?

I wrote a book and sent it out to editing. I apparently do not understand what a writing vacation actually means...

Ok, in fairness, I didn't write the book this past week, it took a little over a year. But I got it through alpha editing this week, and let me tell you, that's an accomplishment. I also looked at cover art, and started writing the prologue.

One of my really good friends works in publishing, and she basically held my hand through this whole process, so don't ask me how normal people get books published, I have no idea. I went the "clout" way of book publishing - seeing as I am from Chicago and all.

Initially, there will be very few handcover books actually published - I am going with mostly digital format. My family and friends will be getting the actual hard books. All the rest of you suckas will have to download it to your Iphones, Ipods, Kindles, Blackberries, Computers, etc. But it will be cheaper than if you got a normal tangible book.

This, my dear people, is my baby. The working title as of now is...

The Shallow Girl's Guide to Reheating Leftovers: The Best Stories from the Worst Year of my Life. 

I will let you all know when it's available for sale, and where to buy it, how much it costs, etc etc etc.

That's right - I am shilling my book to all of you. It only makes sense because I shill my life stories, friend's stories, family's stories, all for your enjoyment.

Fun With Google

I like to play with Google. It's one of my favorite pastimes. You can tell I was bored at work today, can't you?

Here are some of Google's suggestions for my seach items. This post has been brought to you by the millions of other people who were bored on the internet and searched for something. Thanks people!

[caption id="attachment_1098" align="aligncenter" width="468" caption="Dude, you have some serious issues..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1099" align="aligncenter" width="385" caption="You need Google to help you with this? Dude just find a McDonalds!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1100" align="aligncenter" width="468" caption="A badger, huh? I would be reluctant to "embrace Christ" if He were a badger..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1101" align="aligncenter" width="391" caption="Is this a chronic problem with girls or something?"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1102" align="aligncenter" width="369" caption="This has WTF written alllll over it"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1103" align="aligncenter" width="370" caption="What is your problem with Daniel Craig???"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1104" align="aligncenter" width="377" caption="Well that answers the last question..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1105" align="aligncenter" width="377" caption="How is THIS the first suggestion? "][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1106" align="aligncenter" width="448" caption="It says "You have too much time on me." Weird."][/caption]

Come Play With Us

Have I ever told you about my doll(s)? I have this doll -named Carrie- and I have owned her since about the age of four. Carrie has gone with me everywhere my whole life. If I am taking a vacation - Carrie comes with. Leaving the country - Carrie comes with. I am a bit of a freak about this doll, if you haven't figured it out already.

Well, Eric found another "Carrie" and we bid on her and won her off of Ebay. Her name is Carley. So, now I have Carrie and Carley.

My friend George, one of the many Georges I know, is freaked out by the dolls. Like, REALLY freaked out. One of my favorite pastimes is positioning the dolls in weird ways with signs foretelling his doom. For example:

The one on the right is obviously the older one, since it is so danged dirty. Here are some other signs I want to make for him in the future:



I wonder why George doesn't come over more often...

Digging Right In

I try, against all odds, to be lady-like at work. It's an uphill battle, let me tell you. I don't wear high heels, because I know that I look like a rhino trying to delicately tip toe through the marsh when I wear them. Let's just go ahead and let that image sink in for a moment.

Anyway, I made popcorn at work today. Why? No reason other than I was hungry and it was the healthiest thing available in the vending machine. I don't know about you, but I always secretly thought that the person who made popcorn and smelled up the whole office secretly hated her co-workers.  I mean, I think that way about everyone but me- I was just trying to avoid eating 5 Twix bars in a row to stay awake.

So, I pop myself some popcorn, and then lean back in my chair and start to toss pieces up into my mouth. I miss my mouth a lot. Then I suddenly remember that there's a meeting I am supposed to be in, and I hustle off to the meeting.

In the middle of the meeting, I realize there is about a handful of popcorn in my cleavage down my shirt. So, we take a break from the meeting, and everyone gets up to stretch and go check their email, and I am left alone in the room.

You know where this is going.

I reach down my shirt, grab some popcorn, and start eating. What I did not realize, however, was that the guy who was late to the meeting came in through the backdoor of the meeting room, the door that was inconveniently behind me, and saw me take roughly a handful of popcorn out of my boobs and eat it.

I look up at him, mouth full of popcorn, and say " Ehhhy Pfofkern?" which was my way of saying, with my mouth full, "Want any popcorn?" I know you're thinking this somehow sounds like I might be vaguely hitting on him, but let me assure you I am not nearly attractive enough to pull that line off sexily. I really just did not know what else to say. Late to the Meeting Guy laughs so hard he starts coughing and leaves back out the door.

The rest of the meeting I had to deal with people asking "Does anyone smell popcorn?" And Late to the Meeting Guy trying hard not to laugh his ass off in the meeting all while I try not to piss myself out of fear that he will tell on me and my secret boob stash.

All-in-all I have to say I think I am making a great impression at this new company.

I Have A Way With Very Drunk Men

Over the weekend, I went to a fourth of July party. The same party I have been going to for about a decade and a half. Did I never before mention I am a pretty boring, predictable person? I didn't? WELL I AM.

Anyway, this particular friend has a particular uncle, who got particularly drunk this fourth - and stole my dirty fork.

I was standing in the kitchen, eating my Jello salad, and this drunk uncle, whom I will henceforth call Ernie because he has certain Muppet-like qualities, stumbles on in.

[caption id="attachment_1084" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I KNEW IT!"][/caption]

Ernie: Rita says I can take a plate home!

Me: Well giddyup then. (Because, really, what does this have to do with me?)

Ernie: Alllllright then, now you know.

Ernie goes and makes himself a plate of food to go, and then comes back and asks me where the forks are. In the middle of my explaining, he looks down at my plate, takes my fork out of my Jello salad, sucks my food off of it, and says thanks as he walks away.

And it occurs to me: Every time I set down a Squirt, I would go to pick it up, and it would be empty.  By God, Ernie was food stalking me all night!

So thanks to my friend, for having an Uncle Ernie, and therefore giving me something to write about, and a special thanks goes out to his wife Bert, who gave him (and my fork) a ride home. (She doesn't look like a Muppet, for those of you keeping tabs on the Muppet-people I know.)

Link Love

Ok, so I searched my own blog on google. Does that make me self-absorbed? I hope so. No, wait, no I don't. I ALREADY run a blog that just talks about my life and nothing else (really) and that's pretty self-absorbed as is!

Anyway, I thought I would highlight some of the blogs that linked to me that I have not previously highlighted:

This guy Steve hates Santa Claus and the Christmas spending season almost as much as I do!

I agree with Mr. A. - writing me a ticket also warrants a golf ball (or club) to the head. Just sayin'.

I also hope that this statue breathes fire at night, and I am glad I am not the only one who still sees the world through a viel of mystical imagination.

The picture on Milly's blog looked so good I went out and bought basil, mozzarella, balsamic vinegar, and tomatoes and made myself a plate.

I like the way Nina tells it like it is, in a snarky, sarcastic fashion. If we lived in the same state, she would be the girlfriend I get together with to bitch with.

Eric loved this post, as he is also a Meatatarian. All around, it's a great blog I get caught up in reading (when I have a chance to read blogs.)

This blog is open, honest, and very well written. Just read this post and you can see what I mean.

Sarah Vonis an awesome blogger who is all over the blogging spectrum. I guest posted for her once here.

Britt, from Blunt Delivery, is my crazy twin up north. She shows me love by linking to me on her blog, as well as when she was interviewed on blog rollers. That is just awesome.

Chitown Wife, though she rarely updates anymore, is pretty awesome because she plugs Chicago-area blogs, and that deserves an A+ in my book (or blog, as the case may be).

This is my friend Nia's blog, who is the only person I know who has been blogging for LONGER THAN ME. That's quite an accomplishment! (Or, you know, a complete waste of time, depending on who you ask.)

This is Jay's blog about the cutest dog in the world. No seriously, Lola is adorable. I just want to dress her up like a baby and take her out and...wait, no, I am starting to sound crazy. Well, crazier.

And this little picture here? This is for the banking goddess, so she can now officially say she has been "Spidered"

He Keeps Rejecting My Friend Requests

My friend Pam recently updated her status with this little gem, which I have to say is one of the funniest things I have read all year:

If her goal was to make this grown ass woman tinkle a little while laughing until she couldn't breathe - well then MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

PS - she has an awesome website you can visit here, and she answers all your weird sex questions that you were too afraid to ask your mother when you were given "the talk." (WARNING: the second link is NSFW) And some you have since learned about now as an adult and really, really want to know if they're true, or in my case, really seriously hope are urban legends.

Looks Around...

Was I supposed to update this thing? Oh. Well Here's a video instead: