warning: the sickness is mutating

"You are just about to hit the phase where although you start to feel a bit better, you also begin to use 9 time as much Kleenex as you previously did. This cold is a major snot producer."

"Stock up on antihistimines. This bitch just mutated into crazy allergylike shit. My face is swollen."

These were the messages that I received from a good ole Ox last night and today. She got sick before I did, and now I rely on her advice to get me through the days.

I'm forced, thereby, to make an addendum to my previous post about how Pittsburgh wasn't nearly as bad as it had been in the past... though it might have been sunny- it was sick! Literally! So don't be fooled by pretty weather... it's just there to lure you in...

P.S. If I get a swollen face again, I'm not going to be happy.

1 down, 4 to go

*All photos contained in this entry are compliments of the brilliant P(izzle) J(izzle)... aka PJ aka Pamela Jaye. Holla.*

This past weekend, I went to a wedding. In Pittsburgh. A wedding in Pittsburgh. For my good friend Allison. You can call her Mrs. Fillar now (!).

The Notorious P.J.W. trained to me from New York, and then we drove the scenic Pennsylvania Turnpike all the way to loverly Pittsburgh. And by scenic, I mean scene-less, but whatever. Potatoes, potahtoes.

Anyway, we got in to the 'burgh around 5ish, and met up with the Uncle and the Cousin. And went to a Chinese buffet (!). With soft serve ice cream. And potato skins. Then it was off to our driving tour of downtown Pittsburgh (dahhn-taahhn). That was actually quite pretty. And then, we went back to wait for Ox's arrival, which happened circa 9:43:56ish... give or take a few seconds.

(I'm going to stop recounting the details in a diary-like fashion because it's quickly getting tedious. Instead, I'll skip to the fun stuff... and compliment my thoughts with pictures. For your reading pleasure, natch.)

Other notables that occurred:
- My Uncle Robert might be the most talkative person ever. Strike that. He IS the most talkative person ever.
- Allison prepared to walk down the aisle, and I cried.
- Allison walked down the aisle, in what was one of the most beautiful dresses I'd EVER seen, and Ox cried.
- The original 5 (Ali, Allison, PJ, Ox and I) took a picture together at the reception, and PJ cried (There was a lot of happy crying).
- I consumed, no joke: 3 vodka tonics, 3-4 glasses of wine (white)... the amount is debatable at this point, a scotch on the rocks (thanks Vinnie- that was totally necessary), champagne, and, to wrap up the night, beer. Apparently, I was enjoying the open bar, and the fact that I hadn't consumed mass alcohol since ELECTION NIGHT in November. Why did I forget my tolerance level, or lack thereof?
- PJ and I took 8 hundred pictures of ourselves. It happens. In 90% of said pictures, I pretended I was MKO: Mary Kate Olsen.
- Jeff and Allison kissed... A LOT. When the priest dude said "You may kiss the Bride"- they took the next 5 minutes to perfect said kiss. It was cute, though slightly uncomfortable. But cute.
- We sat at a table with some *interesting* people: one dude wore a sweater (it's black tie dude!), one was the most Irish looking Italian dude ever, two were very nice normal girls (sorry ox and pj, but i'm not talking about you two), one was engaged but you'd never know it (boo hiss), and finally- there was the one without chin. Not kidding.
- Obviously, the after party was at the Holiday Inn. Mostly, because we liked shouting, "We be partyin' at the Holiday Inn!"
-My hangover was primo. I think I out did myself this time, as the photos will attest.
- It was sunny in Pittsburgh, for the first 3 consecutive days EVER!

All in all... a great time. We should definitely do it again soon. But... I'm not IT!

Believe Him

Now, for the record, I am NOT one that thinks Oprah is da bomb: in fact, she annoys me. But, I was reading a magazine, and read this snippet about a female journalist that had collected advice/wisdom from notable women. The text below caught my attention:

Oprah said TRUST YOUR GUY GUT. "When I met Oprah, I told her I'd just broken up with a guy who treated me like dirt, and she rolled her eyes, as in, why were you with him? At a later dinner with her, I told her we were back together. Oprah shook her head and said, 'The first time a guy shows you who he is, believe him.' She was right: We crashed and burned shortly after."

I bring this up now because, friends- you need to hear this. It seems like I have quite a few friends that would benefit from such advice: both men and women. I believe that this advice works both ways. Somewhere along the way, we begin to think we deserve less than the best, or that having something is better than having nothing... and that's simply not the case. No way! Excuses can only cover up so much, and in the end... we are left with what we started with. The real question is: Is that enough?

So, chin up my weary ones... and when in doubt, ask: WWOS (What would Oprah say)?

For the Widows In Paradise, for the Fatherless In Ypsilanti

Oh! My.

I simply cannot get this song out of my head. I'm sorry to say that I heard it on The OC, but there- I said it, I put it out there, and now I feel better.

But really, this song... THIS SONG. I feel a wee bit closer to whatever it is I'm looking for. It's just so kind, so generous.

I mean, let's start with the title: For the Widows In Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti. Does it get any better than this? I love this artist, love the theme of "U.S. States" that his albums follow (he's gonna do one for each state, and started with Michigan because homeboy's from Detroit), and love the quirkyness. Love it.

And it's such a beautifully heartbreaking funeral song. It got me feeling sad about Johnny's death on The OC (and you KNOW I don't care about him), and it magically appeared of a mix CD from my boo david foley at the exact time I needed it most... during the recent death of a friend's mom. During the death filled days of early 2006. During the depressing joblessness that I must endure.

Clearly,I'm a fan. And I'm gushing because I just never expected to be affected so much by a song. I mean, I love many different types of music, but lately, nothing has spoken to me so humanely as this guy. Nothing.

********************************************************
For the Widows In Paradise, for the Fatherless In Ypsilanti

I have called you children, I have called you son.
What is there to answer if I'm the only one?
Morning comes in paradise, morning comes in light.
Still I must obey, still I must invite.

If there's anything to say,
If there's anything to do,
If there's any other way, I'll do anything for you.

I was dressed embarrassment I was dressed in whine.
If you had a part of me, will you take your time?
Even if I come back, even if I die.
Is there some idea to replace my life?

Like a father to impress, like a mother's morning dress
If (I) you ever make a mess, I'll do anything for you.

I have called you preacher, I have called you son.
If you have a father or if you haven't one.

I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you
I'll do anything for you

I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you
I did everything for you

I did everything for you, I did everything for you.
********************************************************
From the CD titled, "Greetings From Michigan: The Great Lake State."

His website is even better because you can read what he has to say, and listen to clips of each, song... click on "Paradise" on the map, and you'll hear my favorite song. He also wrote this:

(Click Here to find the CD on Amazon.)

You'd think, by the way I'm gushing, that I'm getting paid for such an endorsement, but I assure you no. Just like my love of Diet Coke, this is free advertisement, baby.

Hear, Hear!

From this Tuesday's episode of Scrubs (a repeat, but brand new to me):

"God bless Molly Ringwald. And this Molly. Ahh heck with it- God bless
Mollys everywhere!"

Indeed. And hearing my name out of Zach Braff's mouth... Priceless.

"In the same way you like to watch puppies play..."

... my predictions for American Idol's next four rejects.

Las Mujeres:
Goodbye Kinnik- Seriously, next time, you need a better name to carry you through. And less lips.
Adios Melissa- You sing, look and present yourself like a dude... and this week, you screamed your way through a killer 80's song... SHAME on you. You didn't bring it. You left it at home.

Los Hombres:
Ahh Will- You're adorable. Like a Brady from the "Brady Bunch." But for butchering a James Taylor classic, you, sir, must leave us. Ciao baby.
Kevin- A sex symbol you are not, but let's face it dude... you only lasted this long because your cheeks are squeezable and ignite the "Awww" factor. Trust me, I know about squeezable cheeks.

And Ace, you are so hot it doesn't matter to me WHAT you sing. Just show me your beautiful face, and I will forever fall in love. But in all seriousness (because American Idol is tres serious), that performance was white hot. WHITE HOT. How sexy were you, my love... ahhh yes. Second only to your first performance of "Father Figure." Yummy.

(The author would like to apologize for the lack of more thought provoking and interesting posts... but I truly cannot rise above social commentary as my brain cells are on reserve for cover letter writing and resume perfecting. Sorry.)

C'mon now

Ok, so I know that my face is of the round variety. And I know I have "cute little chipmunk cheeks." I'm not daft. But now, I've taken my heart shaped face and turned it into something that really resembles nothing short of a marshmallow. I'm even scaring myself. Really.

Last night was red, itchy, blotchy flaky dryness.

Today, when my mom came in my room, she said, "Open your eyes, let me take a look." To which I replied, "umm, my eyes ARE open."

I'm swollen. Swollen shut. Swollen beyond recognition- even for me. The itchiness is a worry of the past, because now... NOW I cannot even see. I have to tilt my head up and look down, simply to see what's in front of me... kind of like Betsy when she had the dog bite and stitches up her eyelid. In comparison, there isn't much to complain about... but it does mean that I need to see my dermatologist, and I hate doctors, so this won't be fun.

Ugh. Let's pray it's not avian bird flu in hive form... or a reaction to seafood (no more sushi!)... or something really serious, like a make-up allergy.

Again, a picture would speak a thousand words... but until I figure out this pesky iBook... I'm all out.

Bright. Red. Splotches.

Oh my god y'all, my face is a disaster. It's insane... Obviously, it's reacting to something: my new moisturizer (eww, i hate that word), my clean sheets (yep! changed 'em!), or general joblessness. Either way... it's itching like crazy, and the only relief I get is from the sweet, sweet touch of noxema. Which, coincidentally, is my mom's secret fountain of youth. So we have copious amounts readily available.

uuugh. I hate complaining so much about this... but it's consuming me as I cannot do anything except scratch, itch, and whine. Which, coincidentally, I was already tres good at.

(I'd post a truly unbelievable picture, but I don't know how to put pictures in my blog when using a MAC. d'oh.)

Ok, fine

So I'll admit it. I watch American Idol, alright. I can't help it.

And tonight, my love... my big, long haired man, blew it.

ACE!?!?!?!?

What were you thinking? That song bugged.

Luckily, you're hot and more girls watch American Idol than dudes... so you'll definitely make it through.

I still love ya, and I'll fo' sho' be calling in for you.