3.04.2006 ||> Sephora is an evil place.
And by "evil" I mean "addictive." I went in there a couple of weeks ago because I was having a problem with beard burn again. Not so bad that I was bleeding this time, but it was very uncomfortable and looked bad.
They are always so helpful there and did not look askance when I explained my problem. In fact, the girl there just told me about how she had gotten a love bite before her shift. Her remedy: Rice Face Cream by Fresh. Easy for her to say, it is $75 for one jar of this stuff and I don't get the employee discount. But desperate times call for desperate measures and by god I'm not sacrificing my social life for some skin cells. I coughed up the money and to my surprise, it has worked like a charm. That $75 is totally worth it.
Now my $125 Juvena Renewing Serum is running out (it was a free bottle I won) and I am debating whether or not to shell out more for a replacement. This beauty thing is a raw deal.

I got a package from Uzbekistan from my host family. When they asked me what I wanted in a package, I told them that all I really wanted was a teapot and some cups. Then they asked me if I wanted chocolate, to which I answered "NO" just like that, in full caps. Then they asked me if I wore scarves, and I told them that occasionally I did wear them, but not often.
So in the package, I got a teapot, cups, a scarf and a pound of chocolate. I never really liked chocolate when I was in Uzbekistan. I found (with a few exceptions) the cake, candies and chocolate unappetizing. But it shows how used to everything I had been that I occasionally ate the chocolate there. As I taste tested the first bit of chocolate, the only thing I could say about it was that it was completely inedible. I gave a piece to some other people and the looks on their faces were so funny. They warred between wanting to vomit and being polite.
I love my host family dearly and am so happy that they sent me stuff, especially that teapot. But they should let me send them chocolate from now on.

I have never had a relationship that lasted more than three months. Part of this is that in college I either dated guys that were crazy for some reason or I wasn't interested in anything serious. There have been guys I was deadly serious about, and guys that I couldn't take seriously if I wanted to.
So now that I'm in a realtionship that I am very serious about, with a guy that's pretty perfect for me and that I get along with? I'm waiting a bit for the other shoe to drop. During my last break up, I lamented that I have a curse that only allows me to stay with someone for three months or less. I didn't think I was particularly serious about that, more like something to say as I shook my fist to the heavens. Perhaps all the repetition got it stuck in my head somehow and now I expect things to go inexplicably wrong.
In two months, I know I'll be very relieved.

While cruising the hot new blogs that have been cropping up, I stumbled upon Vegan Lunch Box, which is a website created by a mom who lists the lunch boxes that she makes up for her son. Only one word can describe these lunches: yum. She bakes him peanut butter and jelly muffins, maked veggie chili and falafel. But what really got my attention was the day that she made her 1st grader a (fake) cheese fondue with his thermos.
All of this stuff is balanced, very healthy and beautiful. She also doesn't give him a choice as to whether he will eat vegetables or not. So guess what? He eats them and he likes them. Clearly there are many moms out there that don't have the time or money to go as all-out as she does, but she provides tips and recipes and has made me more aware of what I eat at lunch as well. Lucky kid.

I have been freezing my ass off in this overpriced apartment. There is no insulation between my floor and the basement and the cold seeps up through there. Plus, I can hear wind through all my outlets and gas is about 45% more expensive because of Hurricane Katrina. Last month, my bill for my 1 bedroom apartment clocked at over $200. But, after a month of my apartment being 60 degrees, I am now below that mark and have made headway on lowering my electric bill.
Hopefully, starting in March, I can get below $100 for the first time since my bill in September. I'm crossing my fingers that it happens in April.

I have been meaning to write about Travis Frey for a little while now. In case there is someone out there that isn't into bizarre news (and aren't most of my friends?), Mr. Frey is the whacked out sick fuck that handed his wife a contract of "Wifely Expectations" that sounds more like a B&D charter. He is also the psychopath that tied his wife to the bed and raped her repeatedly. Which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that read his messed up contract with goodies in it such as:
"Misbehavior is when you complain about what is requested or expected of you... You are also noncompliance if you start something and can not or will not finish, even if you state that you a re in pain or something hurts. If you are non compliance then... you will be tied to the bed and I will do whatever I wish too you. This will continue every night until you are ready to be compliance, at which time you will need to apologize and explain how you are ready to be my sex slave again."But just in case anyone was going to say that it's just this guy that's a sicko... please read what his lawyer said:
(Spelling mistakes are transcribed.)
"I don't know how they can tie this to my client making any demands on his wife. I mean, I could have put these together. I mean, there's no names. There's names on them and everything, but anyone could have put these documents together."So, not only could his laywer have thought that up, but he's sure other men could have as well. Heh. Well hopefully his lawyer wasn't downloading kiddie porn like his client.
Just as some perspective however, 100 years ago his poor wife would have had little recourse against this "contract" if not none at all. And Travis would certainly never have gone to jail. Score one for the equality movement: dedicated to the eradication of perverted fuckheads.

I never call, I never write, and I sure as hell don't blog.
Where am I? Where did the mysterious website owner run off to?
And why isn't anyone around to post and make the blogoshpere feel smart?
Ah, my pretties. Posting will commence shortly, I promise!
