Izzybella!

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Happy Halloween!!

I'm eating candy corn right now, even as I type. I am, in fact, eating the superior Brach's candy corn. I used to think candy corn was just candy corn, until my sister and I purchased the Target brand candy corn. It was awful!! Too sweet and something was lacking. I'd try to describe the something lacking, but that would require me to eat more Target brand candy corn and I have no desire to do so. Don't get me wrong. Target rocks. If I must spend all my dinero at any one of those big box stores, I totally pick Target. But their candy corn sucks. Just saying. If you're in the candy corn market, do not stray from Brach's. Also, no, I don't work for Brach's.

I'm not in costume for Halloween, but my sister is. She and I have had this discussion before, but the primary reason I don't do Halloween costumes, generally speaking, is because I dress up in costume for theatre so frequently. Dressing up at Halloween feels like work. Although I certainly get a kick out of seeing everyone else's costume, I just don't like dressing up myself. That does not make me a Halloween Scrooge.

I haven't seen Faithie in costume. Unfortunately, I'm not able to meet her for lunch today like we both wanted, but I bet she looks great. She borrowed my theatre make-up kit and turned herself into a zombie. It was supposed to be a vampire, but she tells me the fangs wouldn't stay. Zombies are way better anyway. You can get extra-disgusting with the make-up, which is always good fun.

Anyway, Happy Halloween. Hope you all have a splendidly scary day filled to the brim with superior Brach's candy corn! If you're trick or treating, I wish you chocolate!!

Monday, October 30, 2006

S-Project: Blind Date

This is my latest submission for the S-Project. I've managed to make myself sound really horrible and extra blah-like in this story, but in defense of myself, I was falling head over heels in love with another person at the time, and stupidly allowed myself to be bullied into keeping a blind date that had been set much earlier. Although I seriously doubt we would have hit it off even if I hadn't been all gooey over someone else, the guy was a decent guy who deserved a better date.

Blind Date

He considered himself handsome enough. He was tall, clean-shaven, except for a neatly trimmed mustache he’d grown his senior year of high school just to prove he could. He wasn’t some unemployed schmoe. He made a decent living working in construction, came from a friendly, if somewhat chaotic, family, and he was nice. Damn nice and encouraging, so what, he wondered, was her freaking problem? She was just sitting there, all distracted like maybe she had other places she’d rather be.

She was named Elizabeth, and she was the Assistant Manager in the little jewelry store his sister-in-law, Susie, managed. Susie was the one who suggested and then set-up the date. She’d sworn up and down that Elizabeth was smart, funny, engaging, and lots of fun. And hot too. Red-hot. As he expected, Susie had exaggerated, but even so, she was still pretty in a sort of garden variety way—long brown hair, big blue eyes, and when she bothered to, she had a nice smile with straight, even teeth.

He’d taken her to a Mexican restaurant before the movie, and they’d had a little stilted conversation, mostly initiated by him. They’d shared the basics—hometown, number of siblings, favorite food (she liked Mexican, so that was good), favorite color, etc., but the conversation had dwindled and he was relieved when the waiter dropped off the check.

He was glad they’d be finishing their date at the movie theatre. He’d purchased tickets earlier in the day for Silence of the Lambs. He’d heard it was really good, and besides, in his experience, women liked the scary movies because it gave them an excuse to move a little closer. Fat chance of that, he reflected, remembering the fleeting ill-concealed expression of distaste that crossed her face at the mention of the film.

“It got really great reviews,” he persisted.

“That’s what I heard,” she said, smiling lightly. But he could tell she was apprehensive.

“Don’t you like scary movies?” he asked, incredulously. Of course she likes scary movies. Everyone likes scary movies, he thought.

“I don’t dislike them,” she said. He could tell she hated them, but was trying to be nice. “Really,” she insisted. “I like suspense—I’m not much for gore, though. But I’m sure this will be great.”

“You’re gonna like it, I promise,” he said.

He searched for another topic and came up empty. He figured any conversation about politics would bore her. He knew enough to avoid religion, at least on the first date, and sports were out of the question. The only sport worth anything was basketball, and the season was already over. Besides he didn’t really figure her for being much of a sports nut. Popcorn, he thought, brightening. Maybe she wants popcorn.

“Hey, you want some popcorn?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, thank you, but no. I’m still full from dinner.”

He didn’t see how that was possible as she hadn’t actually eaten much of anything at the restaurant. A couple of chips with salsa, half a chicken enchilada, two bites of rice, and no beans. He’d wound up finishing her meal as well as his own. He wasn’t really hungry, either, but he needed a way to blow some time before the movie started up.

“I think I’m going to need some popcorn,” he told her, grinning. “Movie gore always makes me hungry.” He knew it was kind of a stupid joke, but she laughed politely anyway.

She was certainly very polite.

He’d hoped for a long line and utter inefficiency at the concession stand, but for once, he was disappointed. He was back in only a few minutes with an extra large bag of popcorn and two sodas. “I got you diet coke. That’s what you drank at dinner, so I figured you liked it,” he finished lamely.

“I do like it, thank you,” she replied. And then she smiled at him. Damn, she had a nice smile. Maybe she was just shy, he thought. Or maybe she just thinks I’m an idiot. Oh, hell, who cares? I wish I hadn’t let Susie talk me into this.

At last, the theatre darkened and the blessed sound of Dolby erupted from the speakers.

Later, on the drive home, he asked her how she liked the film.

“It was good,’ she said. “Gory.”

“There’s that word again,” he said. “So you really didn’t like it, then? Be honest,” he implored. And to his surprise, she was.

“I didn’t. I think the film was well-made and the acting was terrific. I can recognize that, but it isn’t a genre of film I particularly care for.”

“So what do you like?” he persisted. “Dramas, romances, action?”

“I don’t really go for any genre unconditionally. I just like good movies, I guess.”

“But this was a good movie,” he said.

She flashed that smile again and he wondered once more if she was maybe just shy. “You have a really nice smile,” he told her as he pulled up to her apartment building.

She flushed, then thanked him. Abruptly, she said, “I’m sorry this wasn’t a very good date. It’s my fault.”

He began to deny that it was, but gave up in the middle of the attempt. “Wasn’t one of my better ones,” he agreed. “But why do you think it was your fault? I mean, I could have at least asked you which movie you wanted to see instead of assuming you’d like whatever I chose.”

“It is my fault,” she asserted. “It’s not you, okay? Susie meant well. It’s me.”

He nodded as she said good night and climbed out of the car. So no kiss, then? He’d always hated that whole it’s-not-you-it’s-me thing. What a cop-out. He shook his head and drove home.

He’d barely shut the door behind him, when his telephone rang. It was Susie, apologizing profusely. Clearly she’d already spoken with Elizabeth. “Listen,” she said, “it’s my fault. I should have canceled everything—see Elizabeth just reconnected with an old friend a couple of days ago. Some guy she used to be totally hung up on. I’m so sorry,” she finished.

“Susie,” he began.

“I know,” she said.

“Never, again” they said in unison.

Daylight Savings: An Exercise in D'oh

It’s been one of those super busy days today and it seems like everyone I’ve spoken with is sort of in a bad mood and ready to take it out on anyone they come into contact with. I’m chalking it up to daylight savings. In the interest of full disclosure, this is the daylight savings I really like—where I get an extra hour of sleep, instead of being unceremoniously gypped from much-needed beauty-sleep. I’m not kidding. I need all the help I can get! I just think it’s difficult for people having to readjust their internal clocks—makes everyone a little cranky. You have to mentally reset for important things like lunch-time (I was really hungry by 11:30), plus the day TOTALLY drags. It feels like 4:30, but it's only 3:30, and suddenly 5:00 seems a zillion hours away.

Those people in Arizona, who don’t practice daylight savings, are brilliant!

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

The Post You're About to Read

I just paid $1.99/gallon for gasoline. I know it could have been purchased even more cheaply had I the inclination to drive around and look for a better price, but I still feel pretty good about the $1.99. I actually managed to fill up my tank (I have a Ford Escape) for only $26.00!! What completely stinks is that just before gas prices went way up, I had a cute little economical Honda Civic coupe. Hindsight is 20/20. Hindsight is also kind of an annoying know-it-all who spends too much time with that Monday morning quarterback dude. I'm not sure who is a worse influence on who. (Or should that be "whom?" To speak English good is not my strong point.)

I'm in the process of moving. I'd intended to move late December, but the apartment complex I live in has sort of gotten scary. I'm moving in with my parents. Before proceeding further I feel compelled to holler, "I PAY RENT!!!!" I may be a little sensitive, but 30 year olds who live with Mom and Dad tend to be mocked. I'll be heading back to grad school shortly and I'd already determined I needed to find a roommate. My parents offered themselves.

For some unfathomable reason, my parents insist they absolutely love having me there. This may have something to do with the aforementioned rent I pay as well as my willingness to do just about any chore thrown my direction. I'm one of those people who find it difficult to sit still if someone else is moving around. My stepmother is one of those people who find it difficult to sit still, period. The end result is she gets a lot of help from me. She likes that. Ergo, she likes having me there. Plus I get along with my parents. I'd actually like them a bunch even if we weren't related. So I feel fine about living with them. Which, naturally, explains the last 2 paragraphs justifying the decision!

Anyway, my sister came over after work yesterday to bully me into packing. I'm a very tidy person, but I'm a born packrat. Every nook and cranny is filled with STUFF. I have too much stuff. So Faithie came over to nag, um I mean bully, no wait, I mean help me by insisting I get rid of things that the little packrat in me wants to hang on to.

We came across an envelope filled with pictures from a trip we took a few years ago to visit our mother and stepfather. A lot of the pictures were of Alicia, our little sister, who died last January. There were also a great many pictures of Alicia's daughter, our neice. I'm glad Faith was there because I'm afraid I would have gotten maudlin over them. As it was, there were a couple of moments where we both just stopped for a moment to remember. She was a pretty girl. I miss her!

Okay, stuff to get rid of. Gotta go!

Monday, October 16, 2006

S-Project - Writing On the Wall

This is my latest submission for the Sheherazade Project. As always, comments and critique are welcome!

“I’ll be just a minute,” she yelled as she darted into the girls’ bathroom. “I’m serious,” she continued, “don’t you dare go on that ride without me!”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she entered an empty stall. She wasn’t fastidious about cleanliness or anything, but even her slob of a fifteen year old brother would have thought the bathroom needed some work. The stalls were painted avocado green and were covered with graffiti detailing the love lives of numerous past inhabitants. Grace and Andrew equaled tru love 4-ever, while Cindy clearly no longer loved Jimmy as his name had been scratched out so vociferously it almost wasn’t legible.

Hmmm, she thought, wonder what he did. Probably cheated on her with some cute freshman with more boobs than brain. Probably someone named Lindsey or Sherri or some other cutesy-dumb name. If she’d had the time for self-reflection, she would have supposed her grapes were just a little sour, having recently gone through a similar experience. But amusement park bathrooms weren’t exactly an ideal spot for self-reflection, and truth be told, she was kind of in a hurry.

She reached for the bathroom tissue and was dismayed to find the roll empty.
“Hello?” she said tentatively. “Anyone here? Anyone at all?” She trailed off. Of all the times for the bathroom to be empty. I’ll wait a minute, she thought. This is a busy park. Someone’s bound to come in any moment now.

To her left, a conversation had been scratched into the wall. Someone had written “Metallica RULZ.” Another someone had helpfully scratched out “rulz” and offered a correction, “rules.” Below that, someone else forcefully exclaimed “F*&% you, you stoopid whore!!!!!!!!!!!!” She laughed in spite of herself. How like some illiterate jackass to call someone she doesn’t even know a whore. Idiot. Sure did spend a lot of time scratching in those exclamation marks.

She noted that Charlotte loved Gary. Charlotte also loved Christopher, Bill, Brad, Kenneth, and Mike. Wow. Charlotte’s prolific.

And then she noticed it written in one of those shiny gold metallic ink pens. “Lindsey Anderson will do anything and anyone.” And the phone number was written below. Lindsey. She smirked. She totally deserves it. I hate her. She wondered if that really was Lindsey’s phone number. She reached up and pulled her purse off the hook, found her cell phone and dialed the number.

“Hello,” said a female voice on the other end. She didn’t respond.

“Hello,” Lindsey said again. “Is anyone there? Please? Stop it!! Stop calling me and hanging up. It isn’t funny” She sounded near tears.

Just then April and Gail bounded into the restroom. “Did you fall in?? What’s the deal?”

She hung up on Lindsey and answered her friends. “There’s no toilet paper in here-get some for me, okay.”

“Oh, you are so lucky I am your friend,” said April as she passed her some toilet paper from the neighboring stall. “I could so totally strand you in here.”

She laughed. “Someone else would eventually come and rescue me. Go on outside with the others. I’ll be out in just a sec.”

“Okay,” said April. “Hurry up, okay? Man, this place stinks.”

Halleluiah, she thought. I am SO glad they came in here. She finished up, washed her hands, and met her friends outside. They hadn’t gone 20 feet before she realized she’d left her purse in the bathroom.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Luckily the purse was right on the hook where she’d left it. She grabbed it and started to leave the stall, but stopped suddenly. Very deliberately, she pulled out her nail file and scratched over the metallic writing so it was no longer legible.

“I still hate you and I still think you’re a bitch,” she whispered. “Just so you know.”

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Free Lunch and Other Thoughts

I’ve now received two emails asking if I’m okay. I guess that means I should probably update, mostly because I think I only have 2 readers and that constitutes 100% of my blog-buddy base!! So, here’s an update…

I’m great! Thanks for asking.

I love free lunch. Really, I love getting anything free, but free lunch is especially fun. Today was our annual Faculty Flipper, wherein faculty from the SSW grill burgers, veggie burgers, and hot dogs for the students and staff. I kind of enjoy giving them a hard time. For example:

Izzybella: Um, excuse me? This burger is over-cooked. It’s practically black. I could build a house out of these burgers. I want a refund.

Professor: (dryly) Sure, Izzybella. You can have a refund. In fact, I’ll give you 3 times what you paid. Will that make you happy?

Izzybella: Oh, I guess. That and can I also have a cookie?

Yes, I’m 12. And a dork. In case you were wondering. I tried sitting outside at the tables they’d set up, but it was too cold. And did I mention how pleasant it was to be too cold for once? This has been an extraordinarily hot summer and today is the first day we’ve had high temperatures in the 60s. At the moment, it’s a positively goose-bump inducing 64 degrees. I’m actually wearing a light jacket. Really, it’s very exciting.

Clearly it takes very little to make me happy.

Today is my Friday! I’m playing hooky from work tomorrow to go shopping with my parents. My stepmonster has been talking about doing this for quite a while and finally decided on Friday. She picked a great day for it. Aside from the extremely pleasant weather we’re having, it’s a busy week for me and I could use a day off. The theatre I work part-time at is having their annual fundraiser tonight and my sister and I volunteered to work their box office. Then I’m working the Friday and Saturday night shows, so between all that and my full-time job, a little wandering around a pretty outdoor shopping center sounds like good fun.

The Juarez, Mexico trip will be next weekend. I just realized this week that this will be the first time I’ve ever been out of the United States. I’m a little worried about the whole language barrier thing. Vanessa will translate for us, probably after the fact, but I’m interested to see how much I’m able to understand without speaking the language. I’m talking in terms of human emotion/grief here—I don’t have enough of a grasp on the language to understand even on a rudimentary level. But certain emotions are universal amongst the human race, and having just gone through the grieving process with my little sister’s death, I wonder how much I will recognize. I hope that makes sense.

Okay, I updated. I’ll update again soon. Off to visit my blog-buddies…