I think I am going to get this quote tattooed on my chest, right above my heart:

"Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

My aunt and uncle have a little brown dog (okay, medium brown dog) that they got from the pound three years ago. I think when they rescued her, she had been abandoned in a field and someone found her and took her to the Humane Society. I'm not sure what kind of dog she is, but she is tan and her coat is really sleek. Anyway, they took her home and since then, the novelty of having a puppy has worn off. For the last three years, she's been penned up in this ratty metal shed in their backyard. Nobody ever takes her out to walk, and her area is always smelly because she can't go to the bathroom anywhere else. The one time they let her out, she ran into the road and got hit by a car (I think it's because she's not used to running in "safe" places.)

It really irritates me that they "rescued" her and she ended up in a pen again. That's not being a very responsible pet owner. If they adopted her, they should have thought about the time committment to take her on walks and to keep her little house clean. Grr.

Anyway, Julie said that I could adopt a dog once we moved in, which I've been really excited about. It didn't dawn on me until lunch yesterday, but I could totally adopt this dog (btw, her name is Cosita, but I am renaming her "Petunia" , at least until a better name pops up.) My mom asked my aunt and uncle if I could adopt the dog and they said yes. I have wanted to adopt her for a long time, but I've just never had a good home for her (my parents' poodle is really possessive and spoiled, so their house was out of the question.)

Jacob has expressed reluctant acceptance about this; he doesn't like dogs and thinks this one is particularly annoying and barky. I would hate to get a dog without his permission, but he said he's okay with it (all said while he's been making a face...) I guess it's a compromise for me always picking him up and driving him around. I feel a little bad about it still, but this dog needs a home and I want a dog. I think it'll be really good for me to have her, so I can take her on walks and enjoy her company. I'm already thinking of all the little clothes I can buy for her.

Today I decided that the best word to describe how I feel is "matronly." I am not even 25. I should NOT feel like someone's mother. Today I was wearing a zip-down sweater and slacks and I felt like I looked closer to 45. I could see my boss wearing my outfit. That's not a good thing. I think part of it is that my hair is pulled back and I HATE it when it's at this length. I like my hair to be short and styled somehow, not just pulled back, but at this point I can't do much with it. Blah. It doesn't help that I'm a total moron when it comes to makeup and mine NEVER stays on during the day.

I don't know what I need to start doing, whether wearing fake eyelashes and tons of makeup or what.  I feel so plain.

Grr. I got scammed by a buyer on stupid eBay/paypal in December and thanks to a glitch in PayPal (okay, their error), I know owe THEM money.

I put up a camera for sale. In my auction, I specifically stated not once but TWICE that the camera was used and "as is" but that it was still taking pictures. I even took a few pics with and put new batteries in. I shipped it with the fastest mail and the guy waits a week to tell me that it wasn't as described. He claimed it didn't turn on (bull crap) and the memory card slot was broken (uh, it didn't even HAVE a memory card to begin with.) I told him that if it was such a huge deal, he should send it back to me and I would refund his money. Two more weeks went by and nothing happened, so I assumed it was over with.

Well last night I'm checking my old email address, and PayPal is telling me that there was a case opened against ME by this guy. Apparently they kept sending emails and since I never responded, they closed the case and refunded his money, which leaves me with a negative balance. Ugh! First of all, I would NEVER sell a broken item and act like it was perfect. Secondly, I stated that it was used and "AS IS." You have to be some kinda moron to bid on an "as is" item and expect a new one. Thirdly (and this is the part that pisses me off the most), is that PayPal sent those emails to my old address, even though I updated my email with them and have been using that same one for years now. So since I don't check my old college email, I would have no way of knowing there's a case against me. I couldn't even defend myself. Stupid eBay didn't send me any kind of notifications, either. Plus, the friggin' guy never sent me my camera back. So now I'm 23 bucks short and no longer have an Olympus.

I researched it and because the case "closed" and I never responded (how could I??), they can't do anything. Apparently PayPal does this to sellers all the time. Now I understand that there are some people out there that sell total crap (I've been on that receiving end), but what about honest sellers that wanna make a few bucks and declutter? What a bunch of garbage. I looked at that buyer's profile and he has bought about 400 cameras. Sounds fishy to me. Nobody needs 400 cameras for a legit reason. I contacted him and basically said he was a thief and that he'd stolen my camera. He wrote back saying a camera like that was just going to end up in the garbage and that I advertised it as "perfect." What a liar! Of course, since this is all "closed" I can't do anything about it.

RAWRR. Makes me so mad. 
 

I am really tempted to tell Hair Guy Lancer to give me a faux hawk when I get my hair done. I am looking at pictures of a girl I went to high school with who cut all her hair off and it looks so great. Then again, she looks like Halle Berry and could look great no matter what, where as I do not and probably could not. But man, I am tempted. You only live once and it'll grow back, right?

For some reason,  I was having flashbacks to 1997-1999 ish today. I was spacing out thinking of the fashion (or "fashion") of the time and the kind of stuff I liked. I was a big fan of:

Limp Bizkit (ugh)--I seriously thought I had a chance at marrying Fred Durst. I KNOW, I KNOW.

Korn (ugh)--if Fred Durst wasn't available, then I was going to make do with their guitarists. Both of 'em. Or the drummer. Yeah, I know that's worse. Nothing says teenage angst like being in love with a drug addict.

Hawaiian shirts--Yeah, I don't know. I also went through a phase where I would only wear overalls...and then men's clothing, including my uncles' hand me down polos. WTF??? Plus, I had the huge wire-rimmed glasses. It's as if suddenly I understand why I was single until I was out of high school (that, and people mistake my social anxiety for being aloof.)

Bracelets--I had a ton of those black jelly bracelets on both wrists. In my defense, this was MUCH before Avril Lavigne did the same thing. I actually kind of miss those, but now I think it might be too "emo teenager." But really, who cares. I pay my own bills; I can wear whatever I want.

Curled-under bangs--I literally just groaned out loud. The problem here was that either I would let them grow out too long, or I'd cut them myself and they'd be too short, so there was never a happy medium. I would take a round brush, curl my bangs over it with one hand, and blast the hair dryer with the other hand...while somehow hairspraying everything  all at once. Hmm. This makes me think of probably the most embarassing thing of the time...

..my hair.

I used to have butt-length hair. Why, I don't know. Mexican families seem to LOVE long hair and my parents would never let me cut it. And it wasn't like I had nice long hair, either; I just had long poofy, thick, frizzy hair. I would usually wear it up in these horrible half-braided buns with the ends hanging out ("messy buns"...remember those?) When I was in 8th grade, my mom let me go to her hairstylist, a gay guy named Armando, who gave me the worst highlights ever. They were ultra-stripey and not blended well at all. And of course, I was dumb and instead of just dying over them, I just let them grow out....forever.

My eyebrows--I'm not sure why nobody staged an intervention. I didn't have unibrow or anything, but my eyebrows were basically straight lines across my face. No arch, no shape. And I claimed they were "perfect and didn't need tweezing." HAH.

"Skater clothes"--I don't know how I fell into this. Maybe it was the whole "wanting to be alternative" thing, or maybe I was just trying to camouflage a weight gain. I don't know. But I would shop at the Zumiez  MENS section (mostly because I had a crush on one of the guys there...) and wear these really baggy guy shorts and hoodies. I am not very tall. Now imagine me with man shorts down to my ankles. Green man shorts. With pockets.

Gosh, remember how popular cargo pants were for a while? And the kind that had the "zip off" legs that could be turned into shorts but somehow never really worked?

Other "goodies" I wore: rainbow knee highs under said shorts, the Adidas shoes with the stripes (because that's what Fred Durst wore), a necklace that said "I love Fred," a neon orange leopard print purse (because neon colored felines are so abundant), sunglasses on my head WHILE wearing normal glasses, a shirt with "princess" on it in pink glitter (I thought it was ironic), and plaid pants. Said pants were adorned with safety pins running up the legs. Mostly because I was just that darn cool. But not really.

I wish I could write about all the stuff I thought was cool, but that would be entire volumes of books. I think I got started on this because I saw a lady wearing Wranger cargo pants and I thought, "That is so 1997!"

I weigh 161 pounds.

Ugh! I should be weighing 121, or even 131, but 161?? I can't believe I let myself go this much. I just need to put on my Big Girl Work Out Clothes, suck it up, and get moving. This is so ridiculous. In the last year, I have gained 13 pounds. In the last three years, I have gained 30. 10 pounds a year doesn't sound like a lot, but it is, especially for someone my size. I'm not very tall; I shouldn't be weighing this much. I need to stop making excuses for myself. Yes, I work, and yes, I get tired, but so do a lot of other people and they find the time to work out. I live down the street from the gym, I have no kids, and my husband doesn't demand anything of me. So I don't have any excuses not to lose a good 40 pounds. Gold's Challenge, here I come. I just need to envision that perfect bathing suit: a black two piece with a ruffly butt (Thanks, Annie, for the inspiration!)

This week my brother and I found out that his childhood friend's dad had  passed away. My family was completely stunned to hear this. Emmett was a big, healthy man and we just couldn't fathom how he  could have died. A few days ago, my dad found out.

He had committed suicide.

My mouth dropped open when my brother told me. Never in a thousand years would I have guessed, or thought him capable of doing something  like that. I just can't believe it. I don't know how he didn't think that his wife or his two children were going to be completely devastated. I just don' t know. I can't imagine how his family is dealing with it. I can't help  but wonder if there were warning signs at all and maybe someone could have stopped him. What a horrible situation.

It's one thing to have a family member die of a disease or an accident. With a disease,  you have more time to process the fact that this person might not make it. With an accident, you at least have the knowledge that it wasn't anything anyone could have helped. But how would you cope with the fact that someone in your family has killed themself? That their depression was greater than anything you ever could have done for them?

What a truly sad situation. I have asked the Lord to help his family during this time, to give them some sort of peace. :(

Long story short (okay, there really isn't a story here), i am going to start blogging for the Wenatchee World. I am going to be blogging about books I'm reading and seeing what other people are reading as well. The blog isn't up and running yet; I still need to submit a head shot and a title for my blog. The title is the hardest part. UGH. I have a few ideas but so far they all kind of suck:

tales of sound and fury

bookworm in the city of apples

bookworm in the apple capital

apple valley bookworm

bookworm in apple land

bookworm takes a bite

bookworm bites in apple land

one page at a time

(Obviously I thought I was just so clever for thinking of a bookworm in Wenatchee...hah. You know, apples? Worms? I amuse myself, really.) I so suck at thinking of creative names--if Jacob and I ever have kids, they're getting easy, three letter names like Sam. But that's a tangent. Anyway, I am still stuck for a title. I know it'll come to me, but it's hard. I'm excited to start reading a lot again. I am not going to get paid for this, but I think it'll look good on a resume. Stay tuned.

I know I'm not "supposed to" say negative stuff about myself...

BUT.

I am a dumb.

I just got pulled over less than half a mile from my apartment FOR THE DUMBEST REASON. I forgot to turn my lights on (only time I've done that, ever.) In my nervousness I couldn't find my insurance card, even though I just paid for the dumb thing. I also didn't have the vehicle registration with me.

UGH.

The good news is that the cop just gave me a warning instead of the $800 ticket.

But I still feel so embarassed and mad at myself I could cry.