Okay. 3rd entry in like the past 2 hours. But I’m dying from boredom at work…and I forgot my tail of woe with baking the other night until just now sitting here sulking about my failed peanut butter cookies (because of course, the lab continues to stuff their cutest faces with amazing food that I can’t eat…will power…will power…).

I have this recipe that I CANNOT make work. And it drives me bat shit crazy. I mean, for once in my life, I didn’t change a single thing on it (I have a really bad habit of just adding whatever I feel like and when I give the recipe to friends they’re always upset that it doesn’t taste the same…).

Anyway. No tweeking. But every time I bake the cookies, they turn out terribly wrong! E made the burnt ones into a “cookie ball” that looked like a bag of poo.  C said they tasted like “taking a bite into stank, nasty, peanut butter.”

C felt bad and took the cookies home to feed to his roommates because they would be polite and eat them…and his roommate’s description was by the far the best because he was trying to be nice “they’re good, but they’re kind of sandy.” He’s a very sweet liar.

Epic cookie fail. I call it quits, go to bed.

I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like someone is laying next to me but every time I roll over to look, I can’t breath. Next thing I know, I’m sitting straight up in bed, screaming and crying, with my arms straight out to my side, begging this person to take the cookies and let me go.

I was really freaked out and was telling A about it and he laughed at told me I had a night terror about baking.

Kind of made me mad at first, because I really fucking scared, but when I got over myself and started thinking about it, it totally was about baking…

The dogs were supremely freaked out when I fell over back onto the pillow when I was done screaming, they had to give me a lot of wiener loving the best way they know how…we had a rough night.

Indi was apparently so upset he had to go find a chocolate bar in my purse and eat half of it to feel better about the situation.

Acrylic on canvas 120/80 cm 2009

ok so it snowed a LOT. so much that a small child (or car) could get lost out there. good thing i am not a small child and don’t believe in small cars. but this snow was almost a match for my jeeper…

let’s hope the roads are clear in the district cuz i’m headed that way. after a little freshening up!

In 132 days from right now, I will be freaking out.  I will be finishing my photos so that I can be swept up into the bridal waiting area.  Just thinking about it freaks me out.

On April 25, 2010 I will become Mrs. Sopp.  This is all very surreal.  I never thought I’d be getting married.  Mr. Sopp is just so….Amazing.  And much to my surprise, reclaiming my domestic roots is much more fun than I thought!  I know, my women’s lib friends are going to kill me for this, but the cooking and cleaning and whatnot isn’t so bad.  Especially when the mister enjoys it all as much as I do. 

So far I have almost everything planned for the wedding (main focus for the next…132 days).  I have the site, caterer, rentals, dj, cake, florist, dress and invitations.  Now I just need to find the music, hair & makeup, shoes, suits for the guys, seating cards, directional signage, lighting, favors, and write the ceremony.    No biggie.  132 days. 

Honestly, I’ve put together larger and more intricate events in a much shorter time frame.  However, without being able to have feet on the floor to meet challenges head on…I don’t know how to handle that.

Here’s the question of the moment – to cover or not to cover?  I have a large tattoo on my back that shows when I’m in my dress.  It’s a beautiful tree and it’s supposed to represent the Tree of Life – my connection to my ancestors and God as well as my connection to my history and future.  My instinct is to keep it out – I love the tattoo, it’s beautiful.  However, I’m afraid it will be distracting.  So…

I don’t know about it, but I think I’ve ruined my D-Day.

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Simply because of photocopy issue.

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Please allow me to curse.

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&”!&%$!()(*!KJ”G!”*&^!%$£”^%”%&”%!!!!!! *relived*

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My friends asked me to remain positive, anyway, since it’s already done.

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Some of them even say I’m downright stupid.

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Nothing I can do about it now. All I can do is hope for the best.

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And, just forget about it and concentrate on the next level.

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But it is so painful to even mention about it. To even think about it.

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I feel so stupid.  Lesson learned. Through hard and expensive way.

I went swimming today. I blithely dived in and nearly died of shock.  The water has dropped over 5 degrees Celsius in just over 3 days!

It is now a definitely bracing 26.5! ( It was 32.) I had to put in a couple of laps of fast freestyle just to combat the cold! I’m so used to it being like a luke-warm bath.

It was positively UNCIVILISED!

dont freak out, freak in

Over the past year or so I’ve developed an okay relationship with all things buggie (or arachnid as it may be). I’ve been really proud of myself. Not a single killed bug (intentionally of course) for a LONG while.

Until tonight. tonight change everything-I discovered centipedes.

I shouldn’t even be admitting this, but if someone where to hold me hostage to get very top-secret, world destroying information (because of course, if there were anyone in the world with such knowledge, it would certainly be me), that I was supposed to guard with my life…if they told me they would put me in a room with a centipede, I would crack. I would tell them everything they wanted to know and let them destroy the world and beg them to kill me humanely.

Seriously.

I mean, for starters, it was record breaking fast speeding through my living room. But then common knowledge let me know that those sons of bitches bite and that it HURTS. And ew ew ew ew ew ew millions of legs.

Indiana was trying to eat it and I was freaking out, he thought he was in trouble because I’m screaming, I’m dancing around on all my furniture, still screaming at nothing  and thinking…”do I kill it? That’s bad Karma for sure and bound to lead to more of them…but if I cannot go to sleep knowing it’s speeding around my apartment waiting to bite my ankle at any moment.  AHHAHHHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! IT’S RUNNING AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

So I pounced on it with my Smart Water water bottle and killed it. I feel bad, I do. But for my safety, I had to kill it before it killed me or sapped me of all my sanity.

And, to top it all off, I was ready to go to bed, but now my adrenalin has kicked in and I am sooo not tired.

So I would very much like to think of myself as a strong, brave individual. One who genuinely cares for all life on the planet, bug included.

But tonight, tonight I found one of the few creaters that I cannot tolerate.

Centipedes:

Dead, of course...I tried to take a picture of it alive but that sucker runs fast.

I shouldn’t even be admitting this, but if someone where to hold me hostage to get very top secret, world destroying information (because of course, if there were anyone in the world with such knowledge, it would certainly be me), that I was supposed to guard with my life…if they told me they would put me in a room with a centipede, I would crack. I would tell them everything they wanted to know and let them destroy the world.

Seriously.
CANNOT HANDLE THESE BUGS!

I mean, for starters, they are so super fast it’s not even funny. But then common knowledge let me know that those sons of bitches bite and that it HURTS.

My dog was trying to eat it and I was freaking out, he thought he was in trouble, I’m dancing around on all my furniture, screaming and thinking…”do I kill it? That’s bad Karma for sure and bound to lead to more of them…but if I cannot go to sleep knowing it’s speeding around my apartment waiting to bite my ankle at any moment.  AHHAHHHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! IT’S RUNNING AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

So I pounced on it with my Smart Water water bottle and killed it. I feel bad, I do. But for my safety, I had to kill it before it killed me.

A good friend. Too good, unfortunately.

Like almost everything that feels good, Diazepam (marketed as Valium) is bad for you.

Bad in the sense that it’s very ‘grippy’ (i.e. you can very easily become dependent on it).

This danger is easy to appreciate, once you’ve tried Diazepam a few times.

If you’re freaking out, half a Serapax, Oxazepam (or equivalent) can calm you down within an hour. Less if you chew the tablet.

This is particularly beneficial if you need to ‘get it together’ for work.

From weeping and tearing your hair out to quietly doing your emails: the shift can be quite astounding.

Another effective use of Diazepam is as a preventative measure when you must perform difficult social interactions (e.g. go to dinner with friends).

Because it calms without disabling, it’s vastly superior to getting drunk before you walk out the door.

A third use of Diazepam is for sleep. As well as sending you to sleep, it keeps you there. Sometimes until dawn.

This makes it superior to many sleeping pills, which only work for a few hours and leave you feeling wrung out the next day.

Doctors will, quite rightly, make you jump through all manner of hoops before prescribing Diazepam.

When they do, however, the cheapness of the prescription (relative to the comfort it can bring) will amaze you.

Once the pills are gone, there’ll be moments you’d gladly pay twenty times the price to get relief.

Naturally, your thoughts may turn to abuse. Take two pills and whatever is bothering you will almost certainly go away (for a while).

Take two pills with alcohol and you’ll go out like a light. You may even slide over while watching television and wake up, cold and cramped, many hours later.

This sort of behaviour is very bad news. Add vehicles to the mix and you’re absolutely asking for it.

Unless you have a will of iron, therefore, you should try to steer clear of Diazepam.

At the very least, keep your doctor and psychologist fully informed of your usage.

Properly used, Diazepam can get you over humps and through tight spots.

Used any other way, it will become yet another source of problems and sorrow.

I was having one of those lady freak-outs that men for some reason never, ever have. I was pouty and tired and grumpy and stressed and hungry and tired and pouty and dirty(!!) and basically having a shit-packed day that included flying, which I HATE.

Anyway, we’re checked into the hotel and, after meeting my sister, I have to shower really badly (and really quickly) before we go out to catch a show. Only thing is, despite us both having loooong hair (his actually isn’t that long and neither is mine but I’m trying REALLY hard), neither of us brought a comb. I had 20 minutes to get ready and instead of actually getting in the fucking shower I was pacing and freaking because I am SO much better at that than I am at getting ready super fast. He kept offering to run down the street and buy a comb (he didn’t even know where he was going to go) but I kept insisting, “No, no, don’t. I DONT want that. Really. NO. You have to get ready too.” So I finally make it to the bathroom and he shouts that he’s going to go get some food and he’ll be back soon. He leaves and I have a nice cry for myself in the shower. Yeeeeah, I’m that classy. He arrives back 20 minutes later, breathless, comb in hand. Apparently comb sounds like food to me. Who knew?

God bless him!

<3

LS

Canvas-acrylic-spraypaint 100/100 cm 2009

Canvas-acrylic-spraypaint  80/50 cm 2009

Canvas-acrylic 120/80 cm 2006

Hey there Kids!

So I’m cleaning off my desk after being on the road for the better part of 3 months, and realize that I’m a little behind in correspondence. Oh, and bills and other articles and missives of a timely matter.

One of these time sensitive letters has got me particularly freaked out, cuz it’s kind of important. I’m even finding that I’m stress eating over it!

We all do it. But recognize what’s at play here. I’m freaking out, and rather than take steps to fix it, I’m physically getting up, and walking to the kitchen! In that time, I could have done any of the following:
Called an ally for guidance.
Concentrated on the task and taken action.
Could have used my Bigger Game Trainer training and found a plan.

Being an optimist is not only taking steps to remain optimistic. The BIGGER job is to NOT become pessimistic! That’s the secret!

There. I just gave the secret to a great life away. You have it now.

Take measures to not get “down” or “overwhelmed” so that your disposition will remain positive. From that “place” we can make better and informed decisions about our futures. Am I right, ladies? Gents?

Breath. Get junk out of your way. Treat someone you love with indifference. Their confusion will soothe you. Then go eat Cheetos.

That’s what I’d do.

L

Shoe-thrower gets a taste of own medicine

His attacker was an exiled pro-US Iraqi journalist

• Reuters
• Published:  December 3, 2009 by Gulf News

Mobile phone towers dressed up as palm trees.  So James Bond.  How can you not love it?

Mobile Phone Tower (Image Source: http://www.eastvalleytribune.com)

These things are scattered around Dubai. Each time we see one we yell out, ‘James Bond Palm Tree!’

If you are as fascinated by these things as I am you can get yourself one.  They are made in China by Yongzhou Haihong Art & Craft Company. I’m not sure how much they cost but can you really put a price on genius?

You’ll have to rig it yourself though.

Yes please, I must have one immediately!

Happy UAE National Day!!!

So, yeah. By now, I think we all know that Lizzie is taking the GRE on Wednesday (because I have no delusions about my readership: those of you who aren’t ‘jibans are flesh-life friends, and I’ve told you all about it. Ad nauseum, I’m sure). As is my wont, I put off studying for the fucker until the last minute. There are a number of reasons I did this: up until I started taking practice tests, I was suffering under the delusion that my reading comprehension skillz hadn’t suffered in the slightest since graduating college five years ago. Also, I was mad that I had to give up an entire weekend* to studying. In addition to all that, I’m still a consummate procrastinator.

I mean, look at this here: I should be studying. Instead of it, I’m sitting here writing about how freaked out I’ve become because of the studying. Awesome**.

But I very nearly burst into tears at the library earlier today after scoring my long Verbal Practice test (it’s 125 questions). I got a 74% on it. Can you see why I nearly started crying? It’s not so much the test itself that’s doing the freak out, it’s the what-ifs that come after the test. What If I’m Not Good Enough? What If I don’t get into any of the schools I’m applying to? (At the same time, and conversely, I absolutely refuse to believe that I’m not smart enough to excel in an academic environment. In fact, one of the few things I’m certain about is my severe case of smarty-pantsness. So this just confuses and freaks me out even further.)

I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if I don’t get into grad school. As far as I’ve been able to ascertain, there’s really no other course that’s going to work for me wherein I’ll end up with a measure of happiness.

So there you have it. Lizzie does freak out over tests sometimes, just like everyone else. And now I shall return to trying to teach myself the Geometry I never quite learned in high school.

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*With the exceptions of punching a guy’s sushi v-card Saturday night and going grocery shopping Sunday morning, that is.
**By which I mean that this is the complete opposite of awesome.