Do Not Speak To Me


I hate talking about money.

The fact that I wanted to marry Oscar Meyer Jr. at the age of eight was not because I was trying to be funny, or cute. It is because I have a deep-rooted dislike for talking about or thinking about money. Yes, everyone stresses, but I am talking I feel guilty when people spend money on me. Today Dad was talking to me about family money matters and my stomach got upset. I HATE TALKING ABOUT IT! I want to marry a rich guy so I don't have to worry about it, but that wouldn't solve anything, and it isn't happening. But I'm serious. The very fact that we spent too much on groceries this month makes me want to fast or starve or something. (Not that I couldn't use it.) I

do believe that it is because when Mom and Dad were together all arguments centered around money and sex (but at that age we were too young to tell the difference, and as their relationship digressed it became one and the same.) Money was such a subject of tension, and to me it still is. At this very moment I am on the verge of tears for no apparent reason more than we will probably be discussing money at the dinner table.

Urgh. I think I'll skip dinner.

Modeling School


This is the story of a very sad little girl whose illusions were crushed. There once was a little girl, a plump little girl with dimpled knees and green eyes, who happened to have a sister without dimpled knees and blue eyes.

These two sisters did everything together, including four months of grueling modeling school. Grueling not because it was hard, but grueling because it was so freaking boring. Well, at the end of modeling school, these sisters were invited to be instructors.

Hooray! They thought. We will prevent similar experiences from ours, and make it fun, and make it a learing experience! With great excitement they traveled up to modeling school, only at the end of the hour and a half of intruction to draw the conclusion that there are actually stupid people in this world. You see, the one sister had this theory that there were no un-intelligent people, just people to lazy to apply themselves.

But modeling school helped this sister realize there are actually beautiful people out there with a lack of grey matter. Who cannot complete a sentance, or have a origional creative thought. Very sad. The sisters almost cried purple peanut butter tears. The End

I think one of the great tragedies of society is fast food. Not only is it bad for you, but the stereotype surroudning fast foood workers is that they are people too stupid, lazy or otherwise lacking to find a better job. When, in reality it is often quite the opposite. But the truely tragic thing is that the people who give the rest of us fast food workers a bad name are the "educated" people. Take for example my manager.

My manager is a 23 year old graduate of our local ghetto college, she has a four year degree in business management, and is managing a fast food restaurant. Part of her problem is she is so fat she cannot manuver efficiently. You have to move yourself around her, or she will steamroll over you. One would think, with a four year degree she would be able to do better than that, but take today's lack of compitence to explain just why she works in fast food. In the middle of rush hour, she walks away from the front to talk to her boyfriend on the phone. The back manager who is in cahoots with her, came up front to "take her place" only to leave the back a swirling mess of unfilled orders. Well, when she came back, instead of apoligizing for her absence, or just jumping in. She starts huffing and puffing and cussing because "her orders were messed up." I was floored.

I just don't understand people sometimes... and maybe that's a good thing.

I have all sorts of other lovely conclusions and thoughts I should blog but Joy needs me to be productive.



I am trying to decide if there is something worse than those girls for whom everything has to be warm and fuzzy. And everyone has to be friendy-friends, and then they talk about you behind your back. But when your not their friend, they freak.

Don't get me wrong, I love friends, I have cool girl-friends, but their not warm fuzzy friends. They are not those that have to be together all the time. They are the type of friends that I can not call for like a month, and they are cool with that. Maybe the reason I haven't been good at the whole buddy-buddy thing is because I suck at keeping in constant touch, or I hate having conversations that have no point, or because I don't like being clingy. Or maybe it's because my sisters are my best friends, and any other friends who try to measure up to that are a hassle.

Maybe I am not a warm fuzzy person. Maybe I am not aserbic. Maybe I am being retarded. Maybe I have been saying maybe too much lately and need to quit thinking.

A Matter of Pride


I think Zeke is sick of hearing himself talk about weight loss. Today he voluntarily changed the subject. We are making progress! And, I am going to join Curves with Joy. Yay for me!

My back hurts so bad I could cry. Reminds me, I need to make a chiropracotr appointment for Zeke. There are allot of things I need to do but forget to.

Something completely pathetic, Laura and I plotted what we are going to wear to the rodeo tomorrow. Twenty four hours in advance! To the RODEO! It's a matter of pride, and a matter of showing them up, and a matter of being stared at. =)

My back hurts so bad, I think I need to down about five ibuprofen and ice it.

No More Salad


I have decided if I am going to continue at Chick-Fil-A in my intentions to become a manager, no matter how tempting it is, I will not stoop to becoming a manager by trying to get on the "good" side of the other managers. I will continue to work hard, and be a leader.

Because, for one, it is impossible to always stay on the good side of some of those managers, they are on constant PMS. Secondly, that isn't the type of manager I want to become. If I want to be a good manager I need to continue to hold myself to a higher standard even if they don't care. I am in a slight paradox at the moment. I know that the top management wants to help me become a manager, but they want to work with the immediate manangers. And the immediate managers... are podges of the first order, and they don't want to help me become a manager, much less be nice to me in general. So, I have decided to perservere, that is really my only option.

Zeke as usual is obsessed with exercising and dieting. I am beginning to feel a certain sympathy for my sisters and what they used to put up from me. Maybe this is God's way of teaching me a lessons. Maybe this is God's way to get me motivated. Maybe this is God's way of teaching me patience. Maybe this is God's way of DRIVING ME CRAZY! I have adopted this nod/smile demeanour. Any time he starts talking about dieting/exercising/obesity/fat/etc I just let my eyes glaze over, spread my lips thinly across my teeth in a kind of cat smile and immediately begin thinking of a thousand other things. I just wonder, why doesn't JOY have a boyfriend like this so she can get a taste of her own medicine?

Sigh. Two people who I am closest to are bordering on eating disorders. It's enough to give you one. At times I feel bad being aggrivated, but I think I have made it clear that I get sick of hearing about it. But I know that it is important to him, so I don't want to press the issue. Anyway. Maybe I will live off bagles and cream cheese and balloon to 185. Or then again, that is a rather nauseating thought. Maybe not.

Just had a brilliant thought! Maybe all Zeke's talking is to get me motivated, or get me to loose weight. Hmm. Maybe. I am still trying to figure out what I want to do. I hate working out with people. It's pushing it to work out with my sisters. I HATE it. I hate it just like I hate eating in front of people. It makes me feel so slow and fat and ugly and repulsive. Anyway.

This has been a nice pout/rant/self-centered post. I am sure truely spiritual people don't even indulge in such things, especially on their blogs. But I think that is what blogs are for sometimes. So if you have a problem, get over it.

Random Person


I was just told by a radom person on the street that I was sexy. And I am in my uniform. He must have been a sicko.

Today was actually a good day! At work, I got through some issues my manager was having, and from what they were conveying to me, if I continue as I have been, they will continue working towards making me a manager. Finally I feel like I am making headway.
Anyways. I should go home. Nothing extra ordinary to report.

Losing Weight


I am feeling fat as a house, especially with the impending photo shoot hanging over my head. I have done everything but dig my heels into the ground refusing to get into the car. Don't think I haven't considered it.

I am debating between various diets at the moment (as always) and I really haven't reached a conclusion, but if you have any input, let me know. I am desperate for a second opinion. South Beach? Fit for Life? Adkins? Ediets? LA Weight Loss? Weight Watchers? Good old starvation?
Sigh. I hate being a girl at times. Other times, I love it. Let me take that back, I hate being a girl with a slow metabolism. Unlike some people, if I eat the wrong thing (which I have been doing much of) I turn into a house. And now, I am a house with a fluffy roof. The very thought of my hair is enough to make me weep. Weep for a good fifteen minutes. That is a genuine weep. Not a sniffle, not a tear, but a good soul-cleansing weep. Problem is, with this kind of soul cleansing my hair is not cleasened, still there when I am done crying.

In happier news fronts, Joy's new guy is great. He's nice, he drives a awesome car, he has a personality, he isn't over the age of 30, he likes Joy (always a plus), if they broke up he wouldn't ask a sister out, and most of all, Joy likes him! Wonder of wonders... So now, we all must turn into AirForce buffs, forget Marines...

Speaking of which, Laura claims she is over AJ, but I wonder, I seriously wonder. I watch her reaction when he is mentioned, when Marines in general are mentioned and when the Cresses are mentioned. She straightens up, stiffens and gets slightly defensive. So I am wondering if all that business of being over him is just talk. We'll see.

Bloated Trolls


I am by no comparison having the worst possible week.

And that is quite a fete since it is only Tuesday. I sincerely abhore the people I work with, I spent fifteen minutes bawling my bloody eyes out at the thought of a photo shoot and family members are driving me out of my God-given mind. I feel so very frustrated like I am running into a brick wall, and running into it again... and again...

I truely need to get my act together and get down to Bayland Homes and see how that will work out. I hope it does, because I think the next time my manager rolls her eyes at me, I will deflate that bloated troll.

Old People Love


Zeke and I as a couple crack me up.

Take yesterday for instance, we were going to spend time together, so very simply we went on a walk. No big deal, but it was nice to talk. As we finished Zeke starts laughing and says "that was such a 50-year married couple thing to do." No complaints here. =) And to hear us tell our story together... is kind of funny. But I love the way when I am thinking about him, it makes me smile, and feel safe and happy and loved. That's the way it's supposed to be, right?

His uncle thinks he should marry me on the sole ability that I can cook, right? Well, because Zeke's chickens came in first, I was going to make him a cheesecake to celebrate, since that is his absolute favorite thing in the world. Well, I wanted to have it made last night, and you know how cheesecake takes like a hour to bake, and then three to chill. So, I decided to quickly make him one from a mix. Thinking that it would taste like the cheesecake we made from a mix in the restaurant. Well, I whipped them up. THEY WERE DISGUSTING!! Of course, poor food deprived Zeke thought they were delicious. (One thing I absolutely love about him is no matter how disgusting the food, he thinks it's delicious, since he was raised on TV dinners, and his bachlor cooking consists of cereal and sandwiches. I don't think I could handle one of those boyfriends who cooks better than me, always critzing my cooking methods.)

So, I have this second cheesecake that my familiy is refusing to eat because it tastes like chemicals, and Zeke is more than thrilled to have it too. Only I told him he was not allowed to feed it to his family members, because I don't want himi to have been bragging on my cooking, only to feed them the most disgusting cheesecake they have ever tasted. That would be so not cool. =P
Joy is doing great at the pageant, I can hardly wait to see her tonight, I know she is going to look fabulous, and we can take tons of pictures!! I'm so excited!

Must go, and get work done.



I love debating. Some people might think I love arguing, but I don't. I love to bring new thoughts into people's paradimes, and to sell them on my ideas.

This morning over breakfast I was trying to convince everyone that we should not have driver's licenses or speed limits. And then, that there should be no gender or race on forms. If we want to be color and gender blind then why are they there?

And, I understand why poor Joy gets frustrated working with Dad, it can be... taxing. But I actually like the stress. I like solving the crisis and helping people, it's fun! But anyway, I don't really have anything to say, because I am really busy.

Loved In General


The people that call you just to let you know you are loved,and thought of, are the people who make your day and generally warm the cockles of your heart.

"The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're alive."--O. A. Battista

Retail Therapy


Maybe it is something about the air, but I find shopping especially for beauty products and cute undies to be highly theraputic.

Victoria's Secret is having one of their fabulous sales at the moment... and I got to try on about seventy different lipstick shades for Joy. It was great, shopping for her, because you could critize the products you didn't like by saying "Well, my sister wouldn't like it because..."

Anyway, I have returned to work, smelling of lovely perfume and feeling much better.

Churchhill and I


"Those who forget their history are condemned to repeat it."--Winston Churchhill

Yesterday, in a conversation Zeke and I were having, he brought that quote up and was significantly wiggling his eyebrows at me, since I didn't know who said it. Point for Zeke. =) But, it was actually quote relevant to our conversation, and thought-provoking for me.
Yesterday morning, I woke up very irritated at him and he, in turn, became very irritated with me. We had one of those rather longish, uncomfortable talks where you have to painfully honest. But after that, things were good.

I think I overwhelm myself at times by not looking at things one day at a time It's like I find it to mudane if I take it a day at at time, I have to look at the HUGE picture to get myself motivated. But, sometimes, you can manipulate the picture to be something that it won't, or maybe will be, or... I need to learn to live my life to the fullest, one day at a time! Not the bigger picture to the fullest, but each day.

Lately, work has been awful. Awful does not even begin to describe it. I get so frustrated, and it takes such a great deal of effort to get through the day! And, to compound matters, I haven't been feeling well at all lately. I am always so tired, and dizzy, my back always hurts, my nose is always draining, my sinuses are always clogged, and get frequent headaches. And then, when I do finally get to sleep, I rarely sleep well, because I have these realisticly frightening dreams, or I wake up because I can't breathe, or I have a allergy attack in the middle of the night. I feel like a old lady, a old cranky lady nonetheless. And, my siblings have really been irritating me. I won't even begin to get into that... but, I feel like I try so very hard, and get absolutely no where.

Anyway, I have allot of filing to do, and Joy will be beyond angry if I don't get it done, so toddles!



Sometimes I frustrate myself greatly. And sometimes other people frustrate me, greatly. And my life has been generally frustrating.

I don't know why, but I am so very exhausted all the time, and generally in some sort of pain. If it's not my back, it's my neck, if it's not my neck, it's my head, if it's not my head, it's something else. And I now have perpetual dark circles under my eyes. Not to mention with this horrible haircut, I generally feel like the ugly stepsister.

Anyways. I don't feel like updating. So this is it.

This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


ATOM 0.3