What Entertains Me Is Probably Soporific to You

Oh, all about my shennanigans and goings ons . . .

• I am in love with a scale. Funny that, no? Most people hate scales, and up until a month ago, I was no different. But many workouts, fruits, vegetables, grams of fiber and seven pounds (less) later, I wholeheartedly adore my new Tanita BC533 Innerscan. My body fat percentage isn’t up to snuff, but we’ll just see about that, especially since I’m not that far off. Just wait, one day I’ll be trim and toned enough to kick my younger sister’s ass. Actually, probably not, that kid is petite but strong—she’ll always be able to beat me.
• I believe my complex is under the impression that I was born on May 15, not May 25. I have come to this conclusion since they’ve left balloons tied to my doorknob on that day for two years running. Not that I’m complaining—it’s a very sweet gesture and very much appreciated. It’s funny, though, that my village’s saint day in Mexico is my now supposed birthday—and as this blog and IP will testify, I’m no saint. It’s also funny because my parents have two birthdays—their actual birthdates and their legal birthdates (the day their parents took them to be “registered”, as it were, by the municipality, usually two weeks after birth). I now have two birthdays myself and other than the balloons, I must demand: Where the hell are my presents?
• I will not say much, but: Wings, Wings, Wings! Okay, I shall shut up now.
• But not for long, don’t get too excited.
• Something I’ve wanted to complain about for nearly a week (okay, five days): the Ugly Betty episode, “A Tree Grows in Guadalajara”. To see the city where you fly into to visit your grandmother mentioned is kind of nice. To then hear Villanueva, Zacatecas, mentioned is also kind of nice. However! It is not kind of nice when Betty and Hilda decide to travel to Villanueva to meet their grandmother aboard a stereotypical mode of Latino transportation—the dilapidated bus with no windows, bouncing over a dirt road from Guadalajara to Villanueva. Umm . . . yeah. Guadalajara to Villanueva? Is about a five hour road trip. The roads are paved, by the way—there’s really only one way to get there, and that’s Highway 54—paved, fools! And have they ever heard of Omnibus? All buses in that area of Mexico are pretty posh—air conditioning, movies playing, and definitely no one sitting in the back selling quesadillas. However, had they made it to Villanueva proper, Hilda would’ve been pleased—lots to buy and good cheese to boot. Don’t even get me started on the Spanish, though—the least they could do is find someone who actually speaks the language well! Hell, I wouldn’t hire me (what with my horrible American accent) to do it, much less a French-American actress (the curandera, for all you Betty fans). Of course, this won’t deter me from seeing the season finale when it finally appears on abc.com, but c’mon, people! Do a little research. Yeesh. (And yes, I get just as irritated when Mexican television makes assumptions about the United States and casts people who can speak English as Americans.)
• Scandal and ruin return to the Dyn-o-mite! world!  Well, not really.  Long story short: this is a story of five lovely ladies who became friends while working in the trenches of one of the most disgusting, sexist, racist and shadiest companies in the United States (if you’re a NASCAR, Grand Am, IRL, Champ Car or Truck exec, call me—have I got dirt for you!).  One friend (who, like me, escaped to far away lands) is getting married this summer, and it’s been the big assumption that we’re all going.  Fast forward to a round of emails in which four of us might be reunited this summer.  One person, who is the biggest homebody of us all and tends to flake out the most, has let us know that she might not make it to the fifth friend’s wedding.  Eep!  Yes, it’s for a family wedding, but two of the friends (neither is me, by the way) are infuriated.  Since these three are still located in the area, the two friends expected that they’d all hang out together a bit more—but the slacker friend never wants to do anything, and to them, this just takes the cake.  There’s been some weirdness leading up to fifth friend’s wedding, too—how slacker might go with her husband, but her husband will not attend and instead stay at the hotel room and watch TV (IP, this is not an option for you, hon, as much as you wanted to do that at your own friend’s wedding!).  Slacker will only get together with the other two if her husband’s out of town; slacker might be having dinner with three of us in July (hence the four-person reunion), but said her plans were tentative—which caused one friend to blow up over email to me: “We’re telling her TWO MONTHS in advance!”  I found it mildly amusing because slacker friend is probably the one I like the least, and I actually think it’s because we’re too much alike and try to outsnark and outsmart one another.  I also found it amusing given that it took nearly a year for my friends to pull it together and see me when I visited even though I visited five or six times last year.  I have to give slacker her due—even when she wasn’t able to get together with the other two she’s managed to piss off and me, she gave us a call to say hi.  So I can’t get too worked up about it except to type something, anything, onto my blog.
• Saving money on daycare, IP is staying home with Scorpie tomorrow.  ;)

Isn’t life exciting in WordNerdia!?  No, didn’t think so—Scorpie told me something fun better happen soon or else he’s going to sting me.  Or at the very least pop my birthday balloons with his pincers.