Jessica Hildrum

Feelin’ breezy free and happy

I’ve been having some pretty crappy days, but today I am feeling really good.  Could be because I took yesterday off (after work mind you), spending the entire evening offline lying on the couch drooling peacefully, while downloading new audiobooks.  Finally a new Reginald Hill book!

I think that I really needed an evening with no brain activity whatsoever, there were no thoughts of any kind that passed through my squash of a brain last night, and it felt great.  The only downside being the slightly damp couch from the copious amounts of drool…

From the moment I woke up this morning I felt excellent, maybe the seasonal blues have passed.  I really hope so, I am sick and tired of feeling like the stuff that aspires to be pond scum.  Although that would explain the massive rejection, you know, if I look and smell like the stuff that aspires to be pond scum…

I am looking forward to meeting up with some friends tonight, having a great meal and getting a bit squiffy.

Life ain’t bad, sure hope it stays this way for a couple days, though my horoscope warns me that tomorrow will be shitty…

Remind me if I am having a shitty day tomorrow, that I felt really good today – it is possible to feel good.

Old patterns – BEGONE!

I got sick a couple of weeks ago and couldn’t go to the Gym, I have not been able to get back into it.  Tomorrow (and I don’t mean it in the mañana sense) I will go to the gym and start a new seven day challenge.  As a matter of fact I think I will spend a little more of my much depleted savings and get myself a personal trainer.

I feel that I am slipping back into some pretty crappy patterns and it scares me.  I know that part of this is a seasonal depression, every year I go through a “life sucks” phase (keep the “only once a year” comment to yourself).  I have come to the realization that the long-ass Norgie winter is to blame.  Even though I no longer experience starting and ending each workday in actual physical darkness (not just the darkness of the mind and soul), the sun shines more hours each day, not to mention that spring is in the air, I am still feeling the effects of too much darkness and cold.

This seasonal depression is making me mutter obscenities and act even weirder than usual (yes it is possible).

These are the times I wish Mom had married a Hawaiian Prince and not a Norgie Engineer.  I do not give a flying flatulent monkey’s behind that she didn’t actually know a Hawaiian Prince; if she really loved me she would have found one.  Instead she finds herself a Norwegian Engineer moves us from Mendocino Greeno country and straight to Nesodden, which incidentally is basically the same exact place with just a slightly different language and better clothing (and less pot too) but certainly Nesodden does qualify as backward hic, Norgie hillbilly country minus the inbred quotient (although I may be mistaken – judging from some of the residents).

As for my step-dad he is the best father any girl could have, certainly he has been and is the best father for me, but still, it’s fucking cold and dark in this country.  Would it really hurt either of them to at least attempt to be Hawaiian nobility??  I mean, really, it is never too late to stake a claim and move to Hawaii, of course one must take the family with one and off to live a life of luxury and relaxation with a pool and poi for all…

You might argue that I should find my own Hawaiian Prince and stop blaming my Mom, my answer is of course – “I never asked to be born and regardless it’s all Mom’s fault and I have the t-shirt to prove it!”

Come on – scratch my back

What on earth is the deal with me and sleep? Am exhausted, can barely keep my eyes open but the moment my head hits the pillow *BAM* fully awake.

I guess the truth of the matter is that without someone yummy next to me scratching my back, sleep is hard to come by. My ex husband had that back scratch down to a Science, he could scratch and code with little effort. Ex boyfriend was pretty good too though he would lose interest way too fast.

Frankly my wooden back scratcher just isn’t the same.

Tonight, if I can get to sleep I want to dream about the perfect back scratch, the one who never gets tired, doesn’t scratch the same spot repeatedly, that miracle dude who makes me purr like the feline I truly am.

While I am waiting for the ice cubes to freeze

I wanted to make myself a Bloody Mary tonight, a really spicy one, low on vodka high on pepper. Got Worcestershire sauce, tomato juice, pepper and of course vodka… All ready only to discover – DAMN – no ice cubes… I filled a couple of trays and am waiting for them to freeze…

Saturday is the worst TV night known to man so I really need that Bloody Mary.. come on and FREEZE… no one wants a tepid Bloody Mary..

I have been thinking of my last post, and I was pretty unfair to some of the men that I dated. Not all of them were smelly, warty frogs (or toads), actually most of them were decent guys who were just not right for me. I apologize.

However, those of you who had crappy intentions, I curse you with uncontrollable flatulence and rectal leakage – may you break wind in your most important meeting and shit yourself at your finest hour.

While I have given up on the dating for the moment, I am hopeful that I will not end up as the lonely cat woman (having no cats at the moment, am certainly off to a good start). What I am a bit concerned about is that I am turning into a mean old fart, I sent an email to the board of my apt. building complaining about the French Horn playing neighbor. After I sent the email I got a bit embarrased, but, I figure complaining is much better than going “postal” and shoving that French Horn where the sun don’t shine; taking pictures, posting on the net as a warning to all future horn playing neighbors.

Time to check on those cubes..

Kissing frogs and other good stuff

My mouth is starting to get a nasty sort of toxic taste, what with all the frog kissing I’ve been doing of late, what never ceases to amaze me is that so far and without fail under every shining princes armor lies the warty, smelly and somewhat rancid frog.

Certainly, in my lifetime I have kissed more than my share of frogs and so far, only two of them can be said to be princes (too bad neither worked out, I love and treasure them both), it’s not like I lack experience and am incapable of recognizing a prince.

Actually, now that I think about it, I’d just as soon drop the whole “how much experience” have I got, let us just put it this way, a twelve year marriage is like pushing a giant reset button, all previous (shall we call it) experience is null and void.  However, the resetting aside, the scent of malodorous ripe frogs remains embedded in my nostrils from my, oh so innocent past (she says with angelic doe eyes).  I recognize the stench of them almost immediately though sadly always after the actual kissing – yuck – *spit* etc.

I wonder what it is that apparently inspires burning desire but no “real” interest.  Don’t get me wrong, I certainly like to inspire desire, but it would be nice to have that in addition to interest rather than instead of.  If I were to guess I would say it is because I can’t and wont do that demure, game-playing crap.  The thought of game-playing leads to my immediate knee-jerk reaction of “Geez grow the fuck up, we are no longer in high school (thank God ) you would think a man could handle a woman who knows her own mind” .. Apparently we are in high school and the nightmare has begun again.

A great friend of mine whom I love dearly, said to me, “Hey, maybe you should just relax for a while”, you know what I agree, I think it is time to take a much needed break, focus on that “looking at myself with the eyes of compassion” thang, enjoy my son, friends, family and not the least my exciting and demanding job.

The frogs will just have to kiss themselves for a while