Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
- As some of you may have noticed, I'm becoming more of a potty mouth than usual. I don't know whether it's the blog company I keep, or the fact that I have to watch my language so carefully at work that I completely lose it everywhere else. It's not really a major concern of mine. It's just something I've noticed. You should hear the things I say when I'm driving, I'd make Jesus and Co. blush. Fuck.
- I suck at writing fiction. I love doing JJ's Flash Fiction Fridays but I'm hopeless at writing anything that isn't the truth and all about me. I'm clearly a narcissistic self absorbed ham twat. This is why I've only done a few of them, and why almost all of them were actually true stories - except this one. Though that does sound like something I would do. The post below about the heartbroken girl with the indifferent father? That would be me. Every single word is true. For all you fathers and potential fathers out there, please remember, your daughters need your love and support. Otherwise they become completely fucked up basket cases like yours truly. We don't need any more of little Brookes running around, believe me.
- Every week I start a diet and every week I blow it in less than two days. What happened to my willpower? Does it die at a certain age? Can you buy willpower on ebay?
- Sometimes I wonder if teaching is for me. I do love my job, and I do love my kids. But there are times that I just want to toss them all under a bus. Is that wrong? On how many levels?
- An ex-boyfriend got in touch with me recently and is showing interest in getting together. I'm not really sure it's such a good idea, but I admit that I am tempted. I miss being with a guy, and I don't just mean in the sexual way. I miss sleeping next to him (and when I say 'him', I mean a man, not necessarily him) and knowing he'll be there when I wake up. I miss getting excited when the phone rings. I miss curling up on the couch together and watching football or a movie. I miss all the silly little intimate things that couples do. I am actually very interested in someone else, but there are several roadblocks in the way at the moment, and to be honest I'm not even sure that he is still interested in me. So I'll put it out there - do I call the ex and fall back on something familiar? Or hold out for the next possibly great thing? Discuss.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
There was someting a little bit quiet in the way she cried. Even when she was alone, her tears were silent, held back, withdrawn. But on this day in particular, she was more careful than ever to keep her tears in check. The tears were always for the same reason. Her broken heart. And this man who broke it.
He did it in a methodical manner over the course of many years. It was not a calculated endeavor on his part, it was just an extraordinarily high level of apathy. She knew right from the beginning that she could never count on him. He spent as little time with her as possible. He forgot her birthdays. If he did remember them, he often spelled her name wrong on the belated cards. He betrayed her trust, especially when she needed him most. He didn't take care of her when she was sick, even when the doctors thought she needed surgery. He made her feel like an afterthought, an annoyance even. His indifference was a constant source of agony - and it was this indifference that brought on the silent tears more than anything else. Each day he broke her spirit a little bit more. And still, she loved him so.
When she finally stood up to him and told him how she felt, he pushed her away. He did not fight to save the relationship - he did not fight for her. He simply shut down and tossed her aside. He just ...let her go. For a long time they did not speak. And although it was he who eventually reached out to mend the fence, things were never quite the same. It didn't really matter though, because things had never been right in the first place.
Her subsequent relationships have all followed this same pattern - indifferent men who treat her as if she is not worthy of love. She allows this. She has come to realize that this is the way things are for her. She knows she lacks the trust needed to make a relationship work. She knows she will never truly give her heart to anyone. She knows that no man would ever want someone so damaged, so completely fucked up. It would be a killing thing to live day in and day out with that apathy again... to be with someone who won't fight for her love... who never puts her first. Better to be alone...safe from the pain.
And so on this day, she listened to the stories of his life from his many different friends. She learned things about him she had never known, of how so many had loved and counted on him. It broke her heart yet again to know that he had given so much to everyone but her. Even in death, he was able to break her heart.
When it came time for her to speak, she was not sure she would be able to do it. She had to take several deep breaths as she held back the silent tears again. He never saw her cry when he was alive. She was not about to cry in front of him now, in the end. She put her game face on. Nobody wore game face better than she did. Years of practice had made her an expert.
She stood up and went to the podium.
"Before I say anything else, I would like to thank you all so much for coming to the service today and sharing all of these wonderful stories about my father........ "
She didn't cry. Not once.
- I can be a tad inflexible at times. For instance, this is the engagement ring I want. Make no mistake about it, it will be this ring. Am I making myself clear on this? Yes, I am bossy. And demanding. And stubborn. Learn all this now. I am giving you every chance to run screaming into the night.
- I am very set in my ways. I enjoy my solitary existence. I'm not one of those women that sits home on a Saturday night weeping about where her Prince Charming is. I really really like my alone time. So if you have one of those fabulous work from home jobs that everyone is so desperate to have, you are going to have to go out and get a real fucking job. I don't want you hanging around the house like a frigging spider all day. And please, feel free to go out with your friends once in a while for a beer or two. You think I want you around every night too? No. Just make sure you are home in time to service me before I fall asleep.
- I am extremely anal when it comes to my home. I like things neat and tidy. No smelly socks on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, or hair in the tub. You will be expected to clean up after yourself. I am not interested in being your maid. *This does not include the times I dress up in the French Maid's outfit and we play Master of the Castle.
- I am a hopeless flirt. I enjoy playful banter and ogling the abs of hot young men. This will not stop when we get married. Don't get me wrong - I don't expect you to stop flirting either. I like the idea that other women are attracted to you and that you can appreciate attractive women. Just keep it in your pants sweetie. If you do decide to park the car in someone else's garage, please remember that I am a professional chef and have been trained in the butchering process. In other words, if you cheat on me you will be the main course at your memorial service.
- Cuddling - not interested. I'll tap you if I want you again. Otherwise, get back over to your side of the bed.
- There are two ways to start my day off right. Good coffee. And good sex. You will be required to provide at least one of these on a daily basis. Both would be preferable.
- Every Sunday from September-January there will be football on the television. Deal with it. Yes, we can fool around during halftime. I have no problem with that. Just don't bother me during time of play. And feel free to bring me a beer and some chicken wings while you're up.
- You won't win an argument with me. You can try, but you won't. Every man I've ever known has said that I should have been a trial lawyer. If you do walk away thinking you won an argument, it's only because I am allowing you to think that and have my reasons for doing so. Oh, and I know when you are lying. Don't do it.
- We are getting a dog. This is non-negotiable. I will feed him and train him and love him. You will pick up his poop.
- You know how people always say that it's so important for their significant other to have a sense of humor? Bullshit. Everyone has a sense of humor and most of them stink. There is a big difference between someone with a sense of humor and someone who can make you laugh. I want someone who can make me laugh. Your ability to crack me up is crucial - and believe me it will be reciprocated. If you can't make me laugh so hard that I am afraid I will wet myself, then you better be the best fuck on the planet. And even then if that is all you've got, this won't last very long.
My ring size is 7. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
*Thank you Natalie Dee.
**I don't know if that word in there is sack or rack. I know I wanted a rack when I was young, but I think it's sack. Do I want a sack? Do I dare ask this question out loud?
Monday, January 23, 2006
Make your own heart. I heart you Ginonymous!
Oh The Places I've Been!
Create your own visited countries map. I heart you Kallun!
The Liar's Meme
1. Which Hollywood celebrity have you had sex with most often?
2. For what is your term as President of the United States best remembered?
3. When you ran for a second term you were rejected by voters primarily for what reason?
There was an Accidental Flashing incident.....
4. From what is your fabulous wealth derived?
I married well. And often.
5. What’s the name of the famous Hollywood movie for which you turned down the lead role?
6. What famous person is your secret illegitimate child?
7. What do your lovers most admire about you?
My teeny weeny twat.
8. If you were an athlete, what sport would you best excel in?
I heart you Bill!
Saturday, January 21, 2006
The hostel did not disappoint. It had clean rooms with bunkbeds (don't ask if I had sex in one of them. Yes.) and was situated right in the heart of town. But most important, it had a fabulously cheap little pub right on the first floor. It was like hanging out in your friend's basement, and everyone staying there congregated in the pub day and night.
Understand that backpackers are, on the whole, slobs. We are budgeters, living off very little each day in order to stretch out our adventures for as long as possible. Our clothes are usually dirty and rumpled. Our hair is messy and free of mousse or gel. We drink cheap beer and eat cheap food. It's a glorious existence. As we sat in our new favorite hang-out our first night in Salzburg, a decidedly unbackpack-like figure came into the bar. He was tall and pale. He wore a long tweed coat and dark sunglasses. His dark hair was slicked back, and his high chiseled cheekbones made him look like he had been cut from stone. He was completely out of place, and yet his presence was so commanding that he fit right in. His eyes scanned the crowded tables and settled on JJ and me. The next thing we knew, Jeffrey was heading towards our table carrying three glasses of fine red wine.
He proved to be an interesting character. He was charming, chivalrous, and had impeccable manners. His accent was indiscernible. He was vague about what he did for a living and where he lived. He bought us lots of wine and kept the conversation lively and fasinating. He spent the entire evening with us, and then suddenly he said he was hungry and had to go. He did not invite us to go with him, but he promised to come back to see us the next night.
As we got ready for bed, JJ asked me what I thought of our new friend.
"He's a vampire," I responded.
"I know," she replied, not in the least bit surprised by my statement, "what tipped you off?"
"He never took one sip of his wine the whole night," I noted.
"Do you realize he called you by your full name, and you hadn't told it to him?"
"Fuck, I didn't even notice that."
"I can't wait to see him tomorrow!"
The next day, we met two pretty Australian boys on The Sound of Music tour (someday I will blog about that). We spent the day with them, and then met up with them for dinner downstairs as they were - conveniently - also staying at the hostel. As we sat on the floor of the crowded pub eating our dinner of Weiner Schnitzel, mushy potatoes, and Austrian beer, we told them about Jeffrey the Vampire. The boys thought we were wacked out Yanks who had read too much Anne Rice (I admit that we had read the Vampire Chronicles obsessively). And then Jeffrey arrived.
He was clearly disconcerted when he saw the boys there, and the boys seemed just as uncomfortable with his appearance. We knew that Jeffrey wouldn't leave because of the boys, and we also knew the boys were hoping to get lucky, so they weren't going anywhere either. We were curious, dying to find out more about him. I remember him smiling at me in a knowing way when he brought me my wine. He was completely focused on JJ and me, barely acknowledging the boys.
"We know," I said.
"I know," he replied, not in the least bit surprised by my statement, "what tipped you off?"
He laughed and pushed his glass to me. "No point in keeping up that appearance anymore," he said.
The boys were freaked. They started to back their chairs away, but Jeffrey insisted they had nothing to fear. We spent the rest of the night grilling Jeffrey about his life - or rather - his life of being dead. Again, while he gave us details about himself, everything was vague, surface, glossed over. I remember him telling us that we intrigued him, and that he never hurt anyone who intrigued him. The boys did not intrigue him, and he made that clear. But they were with us, and that was enough for him. The boys, still disbelieving, got up and said they needed to use the bathroom. Jeffrey stood up and leaned on my boy's chair. When he returned, Jeffrey asked if his sister enjoyed hearing about him. I thought the boy was going to shit himself - he had been on the phone with his sister back in Australia - telling her about Jeffrey.
Jeffrey finally decided it was time to go. I'm assuming he needed to "eat." Before he left, I insisted we take a picture together. He agreed, and posed with me and the boy. The flash went off, but then Jeffrey shook his head.
"No," he said.
"What's wrong?", I asked.
"That won't work. Here let's try it again," he said. He reached into his pocket and put his sunglasses on, and then pulled me away from the boy, so it was only the two of us in the picture. When the flash went off again, Jeffrey smiled.
"Better," he said, and then hugged us goodbye. We never saw him again.
We always sent our film home while we were backpacking. Having it developed in Europe was expensive, and we didn't really want to carry around all those pictures. When I got home several months later, I couldn't wait to finally see all the fabulous shots we had taken. As I looked through the Salzburg pictures, I noticed something odd.
The picture of Jeffrey, the boy, and me did not come out. It was completely black - even though I specifically remember the flash going off and how he blinked at the brightness. There was nothing there, not even an outline or a hint of something in the shot. It was just inky blackness.
The picture of Jeffrey and me came out just fine.
Believe what you will.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
- Brooke is the oldest playable musical instrument in the world.
- Brooke is the world's smallest mammal!
- Brooke will give a higher yield if milked when listening to music.
- Pacman was originally called brookeman.
- Reindeer like to eat brooke!
- The first American zoo was built in 1794, and contained only brooke.
- Plato believed that the souls of melancholy people would be reincarnated into brooke.
- 68 percent of all UFO sightings are by brooke!
- The risk of being struck by brooke is one occurence every 9,300 years!
- Brooke has three eyelids!
Found at Miss Kendra's.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
I walked into my lovely quiet classroom to find a gigantic and heinous note from the substitute describing just how horrid my little monsters were in my absence. To say they were out of control would be like saying Godzilla did a little damage to downtown Tokyo. I was then treated to the stories from various teachers/witnesses about just how rotten my darling tomatoes were. Though the teachers did admit that the substitute was a hopeless twat, it still doesn't excuse my kids - not completely anyway.
In a rage, I rearranged the room from the cute little "pods of learning" - teacher talk for kids sitting in groups to learn cooperatively - to military style rows. No more sharing of book tubs, they now each have their own little cardboard book cubbies - and if these cubbies are abused in any way it will bring about my unholy wrath. Rules are going to be changed - or rather - kicked up a notch - and practiced for the rest of the week. Recess will be spent learning how to walk in a straight quiet line again - something they apparently completely forgot how to do on Friday - according to every teacher that shares my hallway. And the gavel is coming back out again. Yes, you read that right. I have a gavel on my desk - and I'm not afraid to use it.
These little monsters have no idea what they are in for this week. Compared to me, Cruella de Vil will look like a puppy lover, Maleficent will seem no more frightening than Sleeping Beauty, the Wicked Witch of the West will.....ok...you get the idea.
*insert evil laugh here*
**UPDATE: Yes, I scared the crap out of the little shits from the moment they lined up outside the classroom door this morning. They were in absolute terror of making a wrong move the entire day. They did not so much as utter a peep without permission.
Some of the consequences of their horrific behavior were:
- Our soon to be held pizza party was called off.
- Rules were written instead of going to their beloved centers.
- Lunch was eaten in total silence.
- They had to apologize to every teacher that had been interrupted by their behavior.
As for the the three students who had gotten a good report - they had a fabulous day. They did centers, had a special table to eat at during lunch, and got to play on the computers when everyone else was writing.
By the afternoon, however, I lightened up. They were pretty wrung out. I even read their favorite story to them.
Let's see what tomorrow will bring. I can always call upon Maleficent again if necessary.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Four jobs you have had in your life:
Phone Sex Operator
Four movies you could watch over and over (and have):
Terms of Endearment
Four places you've lived:
Four TV shows you love to watch:
Four places you've been on vacation:
Four websites you visit daily:
Sydney Morning Herald
Four of your favorite foods:
Four places you'd rather be right now:
In my bed
In Brad Pitt's bed
Four Bloggers you are tagging:
Anyone who wants to!
I'll highlight the fake answers in red later.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
tap tap tap tap tap
Friday, January 13, 2006
Oh don't you put me on the back burner
You're gonna bring yourself down
In my chef days, I often worked the saute station in the restaurants that employed me - arguably the most difficult and busiest station in the kitchen. I would spend my evenings in command of the 12-burner stove that was the central core of the kitchen. On a busy Saturday night I could easily have 30-40 saute pans going at once - juggling from the hot front burners to the low burning back burners, to the prep tables, the waitress station, the tops of refrigerators, even in the walk-ins - anywhere was fair game to set them down until they were ready to be called up to the front burner and to be heated up for service.
I would keep a running tab in my head: shrimp scampi on the back burner....veal sorrento on the prep table with the chicken marsala ...rigatoni vodka and shrimp primavera in the walk-in....give the lobster fra diablo on the front burner a flip... and so on. I would imagine the meals waiting patiently for me to bring them back up to the front burner where the real heat was. The initial cooking process had only fanned their flames of desire - it was the foreplay of the romance. They hated being relegated to the sidelines, forced to wait while the diners finished their appetizers and chit chat. They wanted to be back up on the front burners where the action was - where the real lovemaking happened. There was more room up there, more heat, more fire, more adoration from the chef who lavished attention on them and showed them off to the world. The front burner was the place to be.
Sometimes I would lose a pan in the shuffle. So many pans, what's a girl to do? Start another one quick. Throw in the rigatoni, the tomatoes, the vodka. Get the new dish out there! It doesn't matter which one it is! As long as it looks and tastes the same, nobody will know. Later I would find the cold pan in the walk-in, picked clean and obviously enjoyed by the waitstaff. It would glare at me mockingly. Come on now, you put me on ice. You ignored me...you replaced me...you forgot me. Did you really I'd still be here waiting for you?
I've come to realize something over the years. When it comes to love, I am not a back burner girl. While I'm not one to seek the center of attention, I am also not one who can stand to be relegated to the sidelines. Many of the guys I've been involved with are extremely attractive and highly desirable. I never did anything overt to get their attention, but I certainly reveled in it when I got it. When it would seem that I was losing that coveted front burner space, I would retreat on my own to the back burner. Simmering, waiting, hoping not to burn back there before they realized that they were about to lose me completely. Sometimes they would realize in time and all would be well. I was the lobster fra diablo again, and would slide happily back into my front burner space where I belonged. But often times they would succumb to the new attention, and I would be replaced with a new dish. It was these times I would retreat to the walk-in to cool down, unable to bear the idea of competing for the attention of the one I loved. On more than one occasion, after they had tired of their latest dish, they would find me again and ask for another chance. After all that time chilling out in the walk-in, my response would be - not surprisingly - cold.
Come on now, you put me on ice. You ignored me...you replaced me...you forgot me.
Did you really think I'd still be here waiting for you?
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Student: "I picked we'd!"
Ms. Wose: "Excellent. That is correct. We're means we are, we've means we have, and we'd means we would. Good job. Now let's move on to number eight."
Student: "Ms. Wose?"
Ms. Wose: "Yes?"
Student: "Is that the same we'd that my daddy smokes?"
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Our heroine, Alison (my middle name by the way) has had her first sexual fling since her break up with Tom. Her fling has the unfortunate name of Henry. She is wondering if this fling is going to turn into a real relationship, and of course - as in all Chick Lit - she is discussing this possibility with her friend, Cordelia.
"This guy is not that guy," Cordelia said. "Trust me."
"It would take a lot to turn this guy into that guy," she said. "But maybe he is your greasy pancake."
"My what?" I said.
"When you're having pancakes, the first one soaks up all the grease on the griddle, so you have to throw it away," said Cordelia. "Henry can soak up all the grease left over from Tom. Then your griddle will be ready to go."
"I don't think that's a very good metaphor," I said, "but I like it."
"It's my mom's. Only she married her greasy pancake. 'Don't make the same mistake I made,' she says whenever they have a fight.' Throw away your greasy pancakes.'"
"So what am I supposed to do?" I said.
"That's easy," said Cordelia, "Enjoy your greasy pancake. And then throw him away."
Sarah Dunn, The Big Love
Monday, January 09, 2006
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Me: I like to fuck listening to Nine Inch Nails
Him: Boy... we are wrong...
Ironically, the result of my "What's Your Stripper Song" quiz is:
|Your Stripper Song Is|
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Here is a normal post. A meme! From the fabulous Miss Kendra. She did not tag anyone because she is a good person. I am not a good person. I'm tagging everyone who took part in the orgy. Especially those that posted profusely.
[A is for age:]
40. I love it and hate it at once. It's kind of like a man.
[B is for booze of choice]
Red wine. No mixing or ice required. Good with food or without. Can't beat it with a stick.
[C is for career]
Ms Wose. Professional Educator. Guardian of six year olds.
[D is for your dog's name:]
I don't have a dog, ok? And I'm very sensitive about it. I miss having a dog and I desperately want one. But I can't have one until I have my own home. And I have no money, so I can't buy a home. And I can't ....ok enough.
When I get a dog I will name him Ralph.
[E is for essential items you use everyday:]
Toothpaste. Diet Coke or coffee. Computer and Internet. Clothing. Lipstick. Hair spray. Sarcastic wit. Patience. Humor.
[F is for favorite song(s) at the moment:]
All The Things I've Done by The Killers - I've got soul but I'm not a soldier.....
Holiday by Green Day - Can I get another Amen? Amen!.....
[G is for favorite games:]
I'm kidding. I just wanted to say head.
[H is for hometown:]
Margate NJ. Home of Lucy the Elephant and super hot lifeguards.
[I is for instruments you play:]
I play the flute, and I'm very good when I keep up with it. And no, that's not a euphemism for something else, I really do play the flute.
[J is for jam or jelly you like:]
Blackberry preserves. MMmmmmmmmm.
[K is for kids?]
23 every day. That's plenty for me thanks.
[L is for last kiss?:]
God I hope it wasn't the last one.
[M is for most admired trait:]
My willingness to try new things and take chances.
[N is for name of your crush:]
[O is for overnight hospital stays:]
I will not answer this. It's tempting Fate.
[P is for phobias:]
[Q is for quotes you like:]
People don't fall in love with what's right in front of them. People want the dream -- what they can't have. The more unattainable, the more attractive. --Xander Harris
[R is for biggest regret:]
Leaving Australia before I was ready.
[S is for sweets of your choice:]
[T is for time you wake up:]
6:00 am. It's an ugly time of day no matter what anyone says.
[U is for underwear:]
Yes. And bra matches the panties - of course.
[V is for vegetables you love:]
I love all veges. They are good for you and keep you regular. Who doesn't love that?
[W is for worst habit:]
[X is for x-rays you've had:]
[Y is for yummy food you make:]
I am a former professional chef. All my food is yummy and delicious.
[Z is for zodiac sign:]
I am a Virgo (September 7th). Today's horoscope: There's nothing more dangerous than boredom -- especially for your sign. It can cause even the most rational and objective among us to behave in quite erratic ways. Rather than letting that happen, why not find a way to amuse that curious brain of yours? If you don't, you may end up getting so frustrated that one missing paperclip could inspire you to stalk out of your office door and never come back. Wouldn't a tan and some margaritas be a better solution?