Friday, October 29

I don't feel like doing anything today.

Happy Friday, thank goodness, because I'm tired of this week and could use a good veg session in front of the television with some Saturday college football.  That's the life.  And there's only 2 months left of the season, I'm going to make the most of it.  Then get a prescription for Xanax for after college football is over because then there'll be 9 more months before I get my fix again.

Wednesday was a good day though.  Amazon was my friend by having free shipping on a book I've been eyeballing.  This is a Martha Stewart "good thing."  Because last night, Mr. Wookie relayed his schedule for the next 8 months.  And I'll be eating alone for good chunks of it.  So hurry up book and make it to my doorstep.

It was super cheap, previously enjoyed (yay, no trees were injured in the re-reading of this book), and had free shipping.  Umm, minus having it do the dishes, or wipe my bottttt! (that's for my sister-in-law right there - you're welcome), that's pretty awesome.  And I'm feeling the need for non-historical fiction pieces to enter my reading world.

I am jazzed about today though.  Mommy McD's (totally late, but always on time in my heart, because we can't for the life of us send on-time packages to each other) birthday present to me should be here TODAY!  I'm excited.  Because she totally gets me the lame shit I want for my birthday.  Last Christmas I got a hard-floor vacuum from Santa.  This year, wait till I awesomely post their use.  Maybe tonight.  If not, definitely tomorrow.

Last night I was Super Roommate of the Year by taking Mr. Wookie out for "Man Night."  He felt very excited that he was invited out with the Squadron Guys (and One Lady) because not everyone does.  If you're annoying/retarded/socially inept, you won't know about it.  Yay, no short bus for him.  This week.  But he is still the "FNG" (I really should take a picture of his name tag...because I didn't think it would actually say "FNG").

And why did I take him out?  Just in case things got rowdy.  I didn't want to have his car left overnight when he would need it in the morning.

Then the jackass proceeds to not tell me he got a ride home, the door opens to our place, as I'm totally not picking my face because I'm having some 14-year-old issues, and I about poo'd myself.  Umm, yes, Charles Manson come on in.  And no, it wasn't locked.  Yes, I realize I could have prevented myself from having an aneurysm.  But come on, I wasn't really thinking.  Besides, I couldn't pour myself a glass of liquid concentration because I had to be ready to pick him up.  Yes, this makes no sense.  No, you may not judge me.  Still.

Wednesday, October 27

Where's the morning running Yoda when you want him?

I've never been a real fan of waking up early, layering up (and by that, in California, I mean a vest), then hitting the sidewalks for varying miles.  I wake up in: a heap of ugliness and eye boogers.  I crawl my way into the pantry where the beloved cereal is.  I scrounge that.  Then I suck down coffee like it has methodone in it.  Then I waste away the morning until I have to get ready for responsibility.

That's pretty much this morning in a nutshell.

I set my alarm for 7:00am...but was rudely woken up at 6:46am thanks to some telemarketer on Mr. Wookie's phone.  He was already up, and getting ready for the day, since he leaves at 7:20am to go to work.

Then I get the lovely task of cleaning the house, again, making myself another breakfast, again, throwing lunch together, again, snacking, again, then planning dinner, again.  Then making a cocktail.  Always.

I want to be one of those that gets up and runs in the morning.  The morning is great.  It's quieter.  It's cooler. It's less busy.  It's just the place to be.  But do I want to be sweating the morning away when I prefer to be soaking up my second cup of coffee while I blog stalk?

Are you a morning runner?  How do you do it?  Any secrets?

I've tried to leave my clothes all ready for me.  But I just don't have the motivation.  I may be forever an evening runner.  When my head is winding from the day, I can sort things out while running to the beach.  It's easier to run when I have clouds of thought in my little head.  In the morning, I just feel lazy and tired and want to make a beeline for home.  Because sweats and coffee are way more enjoyable than sweating it out when all I want is cereal in IV form.

Are you an evening runner?  Why?  Any secrets I don't know about?

Tuesday, October 26

I'll take STIGMA for $100, Alex.

It's been no secret that I'm utilizing employment agencies in my search for Employment '10 (along with other ways - not putting my eggs in one basket here).  I think agencies can be a valuable asset in furthering a network when trying to find elusive work in a county where 11.6% is the magic number.

The agency I used in Norfolk had me interview and working in less than 48 hours.  That's right.  4-8 hours.  And it wasn't for some telemarketing gig either.

And now I can't get the employees back in Virginia to forget about me.  I swear, they know one Ging and go bananas.  And I'd spell out the Gwen Stefani song for you...but I'm tired, my blood sugar is low, and I'm still in a suit.  So today I'll pass.  I hope you don't mind.

Anyways...back on track....

Last Thursday or Friday (I can't remember without looking at my planner) I'm in a pre-interview interview at an undisclosed agency before I go to the actual interview.  Essentially you meet with the person who has the connection to the company hiring.  They make sure you're not a bumbling idiot or dressed like Snooki, and then they give you Short Bus directions because no one has a GPS.

So this lady is looking at my file so she can fill me in on things to say when she mouths off this question, "And you said your husband is in the military?"

I confirm her question.  Yes, we're military.

Catch that?  Well..if people guess that we're married, I don't feel the need to correct them.  Besides, most people aren't well-versed in modernized relationships so I don't feel like putting them out when I say that the title of our relationship has no bearing on the actual relationship.  We're here.  We're queer.  Woops, wait, wrong meeting.

Anyways, people assume that all marriages are this strong, firmly founded relationship based on trust, love, and commitment.  And that there's no such thing as a 40% divorce rate.  So we just skip all that dropping $30,000 on a party with religious undertones and overpriced dresses, and let people believe what they believe.

"Okay, well don't say that.  There's a stigma.  Just say his company relocated him."

[screeching brakes]

So what you're saying is that you're feeding the stigma.  You're the kind that thinks we bounce here and there and everywhere (GummiBears anyone?).  We're after the money.  The healthcare.  (What else do people claim Navy Girls are after?  It's been awhile since I've been called out.)  Well, apparently according to Kanye...I'm a Gold Digger... way over town...

Thank you for tumbling me in to a seething, pissed-off state of mind.  Because that's what I need on my mind as I try to woo employers to think, This bitch is awesome!  And then when I'm hired, they'll find out Mr. Wookie is actually military, then they'll think I lied my way through the interview process.  Smooth, bitch, smooth.

I'm here to earn employment on my own terms.  Because of my experience.   My education.  My credit.  I should be judged on merit and achievement.  Not because I fell for a boy who wears a uniform to go to work.  And I don't rank drop, because it's none of your business whether he fixes the aircraft or flies them.  Because unbeknown to you, we already know it's hard to move then find work.  Because of people like you.  I don't want to lie.  I shouldn't have to lie.  There's nothing to be ashamed of because we agreed with the boy, now we agree with the military orders.

But the subject was quickly dropped as I agreed to lie about him if asked, because what's the point of raising a fuss when she clearly has a firm opinion on the matter.  It'd be like trying to persuade Sarah Palin to go vegetarian.

(Side note:  I'm not a huge fan of Sarah Palin, or Bristol Palin (I swear, I'll be a better virgin this time...hahah, sure!)...but I will say I kind of want to watch her Alaska show.  Because how can I not cheer on someone who indulges in her inner redneck! I feel ya, SP!  I'm from Oregon.  Where are my people at?  Oh wait, that's right.  They're addicted to meth.  Yay Oregon.)

So tell me your story?  Ever had someone tell you to lie being militarily affiliated?  Did you tell them to shove it?  Or tuck your tail?

Monday, October 25

Sometimes I think I have ADD.

If you start the day via email conversations about dog breeds for apartments, I worry about us.

If the highlight to your day is taking out the recycling, then finding 2 Widmer bottles that can be reused for home brewing...I worry about us.

If not having any more laundry to do on Monday morning because you did it all on Sunday, I worry about us.

If you haven't seen your stinkin' Little Man nephew in a month-plus and worry that he's growing warts on every appendage...I really worry about us.

If you can't decide whether to recycle the bubble wrap and boxes from your birthday presents because you might need them for Christmas shipping, but then realize this is how hoarding compulsions start...I super worry about us.

If you're addicted to 16 and Pregnant or Teen Mom, and think that Amber is a psycho hose-beast...well I don't worry about us.  Because that bitch is c-razy.

I think Mondays are evil.  My roommate leaves to bring home the bacon.  And I sit here in my skirt, pearl necklace, Virginia Slim cigarettes, working on my marksmanship with the neighborhood boy Glen.  Oh wait, that's not me.  But still...that creeper of a boy.  I don't like him.  I don't like him at all.

Friday, October 22

Friday Fill-In #18

I'll let you in on a secret.  I always panic on Friday mornings when I've forgotten to do the fill-in.  It's like I forgot to do my Spanish homework sophomore year of high school and Senyora Theresa starts singing her collecting tarea song as she painfully strolls past each row like a prison warden.  How did I forget to do it?  Do I have to start writing this crap down in my planner?  Because that'll be the end of civilization as we know it.

1.)  Are you a night owl or an early bird? kinda like the early.  It's quiet.  I can make coffee, lounge around, read a book, and do nothing.  Just not exercise.  I've deduced I'm not the morning worker-outter yet.  I trip over my eyelids.  I'm much more of a needs-pent-up-stress-from-the-day to pump iron like Ah-nold or run like a ostrich (yes, that visual is what I look like.  Phoebe, eat your heart out.).

2.) What makes you jealous?
Yesterday Baby Sister went home for the weekend to see Little Man.  Damn her!

Employment makes me jealous.

People who don't have car payments make me jealous.

3.) Have you started Christmas/holiday shopping left?  When will you finish?  (There's only 63 days left!)
Mentally, yes.  It all starts with a list.  Then you connive with other members of the family to make sure there's no doubling.  But since we plan on traveling this year.  I'm debating how I'll go about that.  Have things shipped to Oregon?  Wait to purchase up there?  Hire Baby Sister to do the leg work then compensate her with beer financial assistance?

4.)  What would you have a personal chef make you tonight?
Well...the personal chef would be Mommy McD.  I miss her.  And her tumor.  And her mac 'n cheese.  And she needs to see me now as we're preparing a scheme to prevent her children from ever spelling again.  (Read here for all juicy details on that.)

5.) Where was your first kiss?
Shudder.  A crappy 80's car.  Front seat.  It was like kissing an ostrich.  Maybe that's where I got the running technique from.  I was running away.

Thursday, October 21

Not to brag...but I'm now a celebrity in the bridal world.

The bridal show as a hit as brides were granted an access to venues, DJ services, photography businesses, and rental centers galore - all under one roof!  And to top it off, no bridezillas.  (Score.)  The weather didn't cooperate, so no lounging outside at the welcome table, but inside was great.  And I got to talk cameras with Lavender & Twine.  She recommends Canon.  So post-Christmas deals it is!

The boredom of unemployment.

Wake up.  Bound of bed, racing for coffee.  It's 6:20am, and people may have been posting jobs for a few seconds.  Who wants to hire me?  Who wants to hire me??  So I get all jazzy hands because I think I'm awesome.  And deserve work.  (No, totally not big-headed here.)

Half hour later, coffee is gone, and job hunting is taking a hiatus.  Well...maybe I'll shower now.  Sure.  Shower, shower.  Oh hey, might as well shave my legs.  It's been a couple years.  Shave, shave.  Get out of shower and at least get dressed.  Sometimes I rock the turbin for an hour.  Don't judge.

Ooooo, what's this, I miss an email!  Ooo, someone wants letter of recommendations??  Yes.


But then slowly...the jobs just aren't there for the day.  This breeds high levels of boredom.  I could do the dishes.  But they're done.  I could do the laundry.  But there's not even half a load.  I could plan out dinner for a month.  But I eat based on cravings, not deduced worm hole theories.

So welcome to today.  I'm bored.  And it's barely passed 9:00am.

Wednesday, October 20

Wednesday's Verbal Vomit

I have nothing really to talk about here in the land of Southern California, minus the intense storm system that went through the area yesterday.  Lights flickered and we lost power.  Momentarily.  And I'm assuming there were a billion accidents yesterday because these people freak out over a tablespoon of water being on the roadway.

But this storm paled in comparison to the lovely East Coast storms.

Let's talk zombies, shall we. of my awesomest old coworkers emailed me this.  (Too lazy to click?  Okay, I'll explain).  It's the zombie game that's sweeping college campuses and cities where you have zombies vs. not-yet-zombies race.  There's check points, safety measures, and prizes.  Doh!  Why can't I still be in Norfolk????  I'd be the best zombie ever!

Yesterday I logged back into my Bank of America account and saw that...that punk ass bastard didn't reverse the charge like he said.  Grrrr!!!!  So back to calling 1-800-this-bank-will-continue-to-f***-with-me...I explain the situation ever-so-patiently and get the fee reversed.  Again.  And...(check out how awesome this is)...the guy waves the "monthly fee" until February.  He must have felt for the military sob story I gave him.  Muhahah!  Sweet!  No reDONKulously high balance needed.  Now if only they knew I'm going to be transferring to USAA soon.  But...that's what you get for kicking me while I'm down.

Mr. Wookie's slowly coming down with the Squadron Bug.  It's part sore throat, part chills, part feel-like-crap.  It's never fun when men get sick because they think the world is caving in on them.  This time it's not true for him.  He's more mopey than anything.  Last night he curled up on the couch with my Navy tie blanket and my purple quilt (both, very masculine!).  He just wanted to get warm.  Poor guy.

I'm trying my hardest via vitamins, steroids, and moonshine to not catch this.  I'll keep you posted.  And mentioning this will either land me in ICU or on Dancing with the Stars because I'll be that immune.

I was blog hopping today and came across one that idolized the Oregon Ducks. For anyone who doesn't know, the Yucks are the other school in the state.  I had to immediately kill the blog, SpyWare my computer, restart Blogger, baptize the mouse, and face the laptop towards Beaver Gear for 5 prayers today.

I'm hungry.  What should I have for my first dinner?  Someone won't be home until later.  So I'll have my second dinner then.

Our lovely upstairs neighbors have been at it again, with this past Sunday being the worst ever!  I was woken up at 5:45am to EARTH SHATTERing yelling, screaming, crying, and walls shaking.  WTF?  And no, I didn't call the cops.  I could have.  But I prefer to think that if you're dumb enough to stay in the relationship...well you've made your bed.  And I've been told the man is a substance-abusing waste of carbon.  So why should I waste more of California's lack-of-money when you clearly just need to shoot the bastard.  I'm cool with gunshots.  Just as long as it's one shot, one kill.  So...I've written the HOA regarding these fun-loving people.  Can't wait for that memo to grace their doorstep.

We're still a few episodes behind in Mad Men....and one blog had a spoiler in their headline!  Oi, we have to catch up!

I can't wait until Halloween.  Mainly because I want to buy the ugly pumpkins super cheap so I can just bake with them.  Although Mr. Wookie may surprise me by bringing home ones to carve (he really likes to express his creativity sometimes).  And now that we're on the West Coast, the suckers won't mold within 2 days of cutting!  Because last year pissed me off.  The day after Halloween the pumpkin was toast.  And he only carved it a few days before.  Stupid East Coast humidity.

Tuesday, October 19

Little Man vs. Canon

Need some pep in your pick-me-up?  How 'bout some Little Man!

Sheriff was antagonizing the Little Man on Sunday.  And Little Man is this close to terrorizing Grampa's high-priced equipment.  Oi!  Don't Little Man, I was hoping to score if off the Sheriff when he upgrades!

Little Man is growing ever cuter.  The family is fighting over who can afford to Fed Ex/UPS/DHL him to visit.  I said I could use him to troll for millionaires, since I won't build a Warren Buffet-style pension from my line of work.  Time to string in some money, honey.  And hopefully my next future husband will have one foot in the grave ala Anna Nicole.  Money doesn't always come easy.  But I think Little Man can bring in some serious bacon.  Let's hope his parents are on board with loaning him out!

Sunday, October 17

Houston, this might take awhile.

Friday night was spent like a rock star.  I was curled up next to the fire with an eco-living book (yes, printed on post-consumer paper) watching Say Yes to the (Overpriced) Dress and Giuliana & Bill (new favorite!)...but I was also handed a piece of information.

This WONDERFUL piece of information.

It's no hidden fact that I'm trying to make it back into the work force.  But this past week, I've really become aware at how bad it is in the state.  Like really bad.  I'd be embarrassed if I worked in government here.  The mud-slinging ads are in full effect since elections are very soon, and it seems that every candidate is being accused of padding their incomes while at eBay or [some other company], buying personal yachts, then laying off workers and sending jobs to China.

So I've decided to run for office.  I'll be running on the forum of charging for plastic bags at grocery stores, tax credits for buying yurts and organic produce, and allowing gay marriage (California, if you enact gay marriage...the revenue will help pull you out of this fiscal nightmare.  Because gays are the biggest divas when throwing parties.  Source.)

Okay, no, not really.  I'd be the worst politician.  First...I admit to loooooving a cocktail at 5pm.  Or 4:30pm.  Sometimes even 4:00pm.

I wonder if Meghan McCain would blog along my tour though.  I love her.  And her boobies. Despite any backlash you received from your Twitpic.

And for those who wonder...does she vote Republican?  Or Democratic?  Well...I don't like to affiliate with either one in entirety.  I vote based on the issues, because I believe each party has very good principals.  I enjoy having guns in my house and the right to use them.  But I also believe in comprehensive sex education.  That includes banana demonstrations.  And slide shows of nasty infections as scare tactics.

I'm still on a 90-day plan of "You can do it!"  I'm not completely sure if I can land something by January 1st, but I know I'll find something.  It may not be working as an Executive Secretary for a VP of Product Development and Sales.  But something will happen.  There's just far less opportunities than Virginia.  So that 5-week success story for Norfolk probably won't happen here.  I feel like I'm back in Oregon.  It's not good.

As my mom always says (and you obviously never want to agree with your parents, because they're your parents and made you have a bedtime growing up), "Everything happens for a reason."

I know, Mom, I know.

Blogging Live from the Show!

So I'm currently working the registration table for the Belle Journee Bridal Show here in Downtown Ventura.  But...shhh...don't tell!

Here's a glimpse of one of the tablescapes by the Ventura Rental Party Center.  We have photogs, coordinators, venue contacts, jewelry designers, and more.  It's a great opportunity to step outside the corporate event world and into (potential) weddings.

And, no, I haven't needed to slap bridezillas yet.

Saturday, October 16

Channeling My Inner Picaso

Once upon a time there was a mystical trek back to the Mother Land of mountains, microbrews, and mi familia!  And since you guys have been so awesome on not jumping the wagon after blogging silence, lacking of photo documentation, succumbing to Navy-induced breakdowns, and not having any lemons in my's a little treat.  A teaser, mind you.  I don't kiss on the first date.

So while back in Oregon, I had the honor of spending 4 days on the back deck of my parents' house telling Martha Stewart to kiss my ass.  And kiss it she did.  I think she learned how in prison.

The canvas was my maternal grandparents' bedroom furniture.  I was finally claiming it after many years of it being inherited to me, but I never had the need for all that furniture.  Enter adulthood.  And with that...and a move from Virginia to California...the lacking of bedroom furniture...I'm collecting my claim.

First order of business, laying down some plastic.  But it didn't really help.  The deck ended up with some black freckles.  Woops.  Time to resurface!

Please hold all fashion questions until the end of the tour.  Thanks.

Camera hostage!

Thank you to the Sheriff for the borrowing of his electric sander.  Because I was NOT about to hand sand this beezy of a project.  Again, you too can look like a white member of the Bloods (oh wait, are they red group?  Damn...I don't know...guess I should make a trip down to L.A.).

Middle Sister would have helped but she just got done with her own painting project and I completely understand the burnout that occurs.  I almost picked up a cute little shelf at Goodwill yesterday, but it was green, and I wasn't about to start another painting project.  Minus my toenails.  Furniture painting quota for the year is filled.

Oh ya!

Really???  You, Baby Sister, had to take a picture of my butt?  Literally.  And in the background, I think it's time to recycle that trash bag box.  It looks a little weathered.  Or are we saving it for a yard sale?

I'm leaving the teaser at this.  This is the "before."  Can you wait for the "after?"  I hope so.  Because I'm finally getting around to blogging about the back-log.  So hold on to your hard hat, y'all.  We're coming back up to speed.

Look out, MAN!

Friday, October 15

Boo You, Bank of America

So I notice this pesky "Monthly Maintenance Fee" that landed in my account on my BIRTHDAY (yes, I just noticed it today.  It's not like I log into my account all that often lately.  Because it's not like I spend money...when I'm not bringing in the bacon).  But ummmmmm, hello, that's my $8.  WTF?  Go away.  I don't want you.  Do you know I could spend that $8 on produce!  Greedy sons of beezes.

Enter this phone conversation.........

[Me]: "Yea, Hi, I noticed this monthly maintenance fee and....I'm trying to figure out....WHY?"
[James]: Confirms blood type, last date of menstrual cycle, and astrological sign...
[Me]: t.w.i.d.l.e. t.h.u.m.b.s.
[James]: "Your account shows your direct deposit ended in July.  Direct deposit actually waives the monthly maintenance fee for your type of account."
[Me]: "Yes, we had to move CROSS-COUNTRY FOR THE MILITARY.  I had to leave my job, unfortunately."
[James]: (sounding quite peppy) "So how soon till you get this taken care of?"


[Me]: (awkward laugh, part wanting to cry because I KNOW THIS, buddy, and part thinking that this guy is a renob...did you not hear the military...the move...or the "had to quit my job") "I'm working on this."

Conclusion: I need to keep $1,500 in my checking AT ALL TIMES.  So I've temporarily moved $1,800 over to keep over the limit.  But for damn sure I'll be looking into BofA's eBanking account vs (what I have) the MyAccess account.  So if you're a BofA customer, and are in my boat [or will be], or just graduated from school (and have the college-type account - they WILL switch you over), NOW YOU KNOW!!

And yes, I got the fee waived.  Because I pleaded.  So much for him having a heart.  He must be too big-headed from having a job, and direct deposit,...that he doesn't know what it's like being the little people.  Let's hope he doesn't flip his car on the drive home.  Because karma can be a bitch.

It's past 5:00pm.  Time for a cocktail.  And hopefully more Dog, the Bounty Hunter.  Or Sister Wives.  And leftover soup for dinner.  Because I'm not in the mood to slave over the stove for just myself.  Boo me, and Bank of America.

Maybe this is the Earth's motivation to get me to use USAA.  (Yes, I know all the good things about USAA...Mr. Wookie's been a loyal user for years).  We'll see.

Edited to Add:

No, Bank of America, I do not appreciate your Google Ad after I JUST post about my anger with you.  Please go away.  Or if you're going to stay, make me a cocktail.  You owe me.  And rub my feet too.

What's for breakfast? Fill-In!

Well....Happy Friday to those working.  Happy Just Any Other Day for the rest of us! ;)

It's time for more Friday Fill-In with Wife of a Sailor.  So let's go over my answers while the coffee settles in.  I apologize for typos.  It's early.  Friday.  And my coffee hasn't started working yet.

1. What are some of the things on your bucket list?
Ah yes, the elusive bucket list.  (This reminds me I still haven't completed the list for my 30 Before 30 List.  Shoot!).

But I'd love to go on a hot air balloon ride.

I need to hike Mt. McLoughlin outside of Hometown, Oregon.  Summit: 9,344ft.  And that's 22nd tallest in Oregon.  East Coast, this is a mountain.

And there's still pet rescue!  Don't buy, folks.  Adopt!

2. How long have you been a MilSpouse and where have you been stationed so far?
Well...Mr. Wookie did his 4 years of ROTC at Oregon State.  We now debate how true to the Navy it really was.  We thought so back then.  But we also thought Big Lebowski parties were awesome.  Oh wait, they are.  But the Navy did help pay for school before sending him on his merry way to Pensacola, Florida.  So...we still debate.

So enrolling in NROTC was in 2003 - he commissioned in June 2007.  Now it's 2010.  So for 3+ years.  Into the commitment though: 10 months.

Mr. Wookie's commitment began upon Winging which was December of 2009.  And with the E-2, Winging doesn't necessitate Graduation.  That came in July of 2010.

Since Oregon State, he's been sent to Pensacola, FL (for too long), then Norfolk, Virginia (where I joined him) and now California (our first station together).  My favorite?  Well...let's TBD on that since I'm not working yet.  I love where we live.  The rest of life will fall into place.  Eventually.

3. What is a list of songs that sums up your life so far?
Well since this is what I was sung this tune this morning...."Where did you go, My lovely Wookie...where did you go?????"

I also love Black Eye Peas, "Got a Feeling."  I have a feeling interviews will continue...until someone wants to hire me...because I'm awesome, people still back on the East Coast miss me.  What up? ;)

4. What is your favorite kind of pizza?
Right now, it's the Vons (Safeway) take-and-bake because it's better than any pizzerias near us.  This is sad (to the local businesses since they're beat by a grocery chain)...but the pizza is pretty good (and about a 1.4 minute walk out our front door).  Thanks Middle Sister for that piece of information.

But I still LOVE the pizza of my college town (Woodstock's) - and can't find any place that resembles it.  Their pizza is amazing, the beer selection is stellar, and you have to pay for a pizza box to take leftovers home.  This was their method of curbing wasteful consumption (with a name like Woodstock's...this is a given that they're hippie).  Because you can't recycled the bottom of a pizza box.  Grease ruins it.  Instead they offered complimentary aluminum foil for their guests.  Go green or go home.

5. What are three good things in your life right now?
- I have a pulse.

- There's one more cup of coffee waiting for me.

- I have an internship with an event coordinating company that's at least allowing me to expand my areas of expertise into social media and marketing.  It's not paying (yet!), but the owner is great.  And while this won't ever be a 40 hrs/week gig, it gets me outta the house, gets me meeting people, and gets me using what I learned back East.  There's only room for improvement.  And this weekend is a bridal show I'm assisting.  Let's hope the Bridezillas aren't out in large.

Thursday, October 14

Karmic Trips in SoCal.

I've wanted to wait until blogging about our place until we got it set up and beautified.  Well...that's...not happened yet.  I mean, we have the big ticket items.  But we lack character.  Here's where I said I'd shine.


And fail.  End scene.

Well today I decided to get out and about.  Or aboot, if your Canadian.  First off, I dropped off some pending-for-the-consignment-shop piles of goods that I no longer wore/liked/fit to earn some money since my financial situation is that of a homeless person.  Except they pan-handle and bring in more than I do.  So fail again.  I'm beat by the homeless.  Okay, except that I have a home.  Just an undecorated one.  But they may have a tent with a really cool design.  Okay, enough of the tangent Mrs. Wookie, get back on topic.

Anyways, Harper Blue is this FANTABULOUS little consignment shop in Ventura, California that specializes in all things fashionable.  Think Buffalo Exchange minus the seedy little see-you-next-Tuesday who works the register and won't take your Lucky jeans because it's not the second Thursday since the last full moon after her husband went underway.  (BF = not a fan.)

So let's hope those 47 pieces are worth a little cheddar.

Like this cheddar.

Or this.  Sweet ride.  I'd roll in it.

I also had a box o' clothes that didn't fit, so instead of giving to the "shit shops" (i.e. Goodwill where they charge reDONK prices for literal shit) I instead found the local women's shelter which gives the clothes for FREE.  Shout out to y'all:  I urge everyone to do a yearly purge.  These ladies always appreciate it.  Or should you get knocked up, and don't have a Ging to give your tampons too (no really, thanks to Mommy McD for hers after she peed on the stick)...they could use them too.  And if you're super awesome...donate your time.  Because the karma bank always could use a feeding.  And I'm pretty sure your soul could too.  Unless you worship the Devil.  Which why are you reading this WHOLESOME blog anyways???

And thankfully as I was sitting in my car trying to figure out what to do next, I get a phone call.  Yes, it was a good thing I wasn't driving, because I was SO pulled over a couple weeks ago for jabbing on my phone like Zha Zha Gabor.  Woops.  But thanks to heavy cleavage, I didn't get a ticket.  Just kidding.  But this redhead can totally play a dumbass.  Just call me Gingy S. Pierce.

Back to that phone call.  Well, back in the day, for that Navy Ball...

This Ball.

Well,...........I may or may not have gone to the Origins counter in Macy's and connived someone to do my makeup.  Hey, I'm unemployed....back up sista!  All it cost was some red lipstick (don't worry, the red totally goes with my skin).  Then to make the girl feel important I booked a facial with her the day before my birthday.  Come that day, I had an interview instead.  Interview vs. Facial....umm, ya, I may love me some pampering...but so does my bank account.  So interview it was.

Getting back to where I was going.  The Origins counter girl totally called me out on missing the appointment! So I graciously apologize that I had an interview and had spaced the facial. "Okay, well when are you available to come in next?"  What???  She's totally giving me another chance???  Score.  Awesome.  Rad.  Swell.  So at 2pm this afternoon, I had an hour long facial in the beauty department of Macy's.  And it rocked.  Why pay $75 for this kinda crap??  Ya, there was droning of elevator music and phone conversations...but they make it worth it.  Promise.  So get your ass to an Origins counter (or Mac or Clinique or whatevs!) and get some free pampering.  If you feel guilty, buy something.  Like a $14 face wash.  (For the record: I didn't buy a dammmmmmmmn thing.)

Then I went to the 2-story Target and bought my ass a mop.  Because a girl's gotta have clean floors.  In case I start crying because I'm going crazy and feel the need to eat Cheez-It's off the ground.  (Organic Cheez-It's mind you.  Just kidding.  Them bitches crazy for buying that crap.)

After my shopping spree of an on-sale Libman Wonder Mop (thank you Grilled Cheesus!), I decided to hit up some thrift stores since I still want to make this place awesome.

Thrift shit store FAILURE.  If I wanted to wade through a bazillion layers of nasty shit to find cute matching lamps, some wall decor, and some decorative pieces, I no longer have to go into the Bangladeshi slums.  Welcome to Ventura, y'all.  I'm not impressed.  I wouldn't go back.  There wasn't anything remotely interesting.  No awesome treasures.  NOTHING.  I thought I'd be able to find something that would work.  But nope...not a thing...empty polypropylene bag back to my car.  Cue the Charlie Brown music...wah wah wah.

My luck ended with the consignment shop.  Everybody with me now, "Boooo!"

Do you have any good websites for eco-conscious home goods?  Recycled plastic anything? Repurposed something else?

We need everything from place mats, to napkins, to wall art, to ANYTHING.

Share with me.  You show me yours, I'll show you mine.  Promise.

Wednesday, October 13

Enough of the pity party, Mrs. Wookie. We're tired of it. Thanks.

So I could continue the mope-fest.  I could lose readers, because WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR ISSUES, GING!  There are people with deployed hubbands to the Land of Sand, and you're bitching about boo-hoo I sit at home all day while Mr. Wookie flies around the Continental U.S.??  Suck it up, woman.  Keep up the house, give Mr. Wookie his slippers when he comes home from work, and make him a Scotch on the rocks.  And don't starve the Wookie.  It's not good for his health when he has to ask, "Where's my dinner?"

[not actually my class]

So this morning I hit up the Yoga in the Park that occurs on Wednesday.  Thanks for this other group that will keep me entertained while I'm a Betty Homemaker.  While it's mostly retired women, the instructor didn't worry about breaking their hips.  It was a nice stretch session since it's been AWHILE since I've graced my mat.  And I'm still slipping (dammit), so I'll be putting those yoga gloves to use next week.  Unless the weather doesn't cooperate.

And GOOD NEWS!  I've been invited out of the house by one of the Squadron Wives here.  This is exciting because this means I get to get out of the house.  Yay.

Maybe I should get up off my butt, make lunch, so I'm not munching on food on our way around town.  Because she's pregnant and her hunger pangs may bring her to murder.  Because those hormones are ruthless.  And I've learned to never cross a pregnant woman.  Unless I like Zombie-like gnawings.  Or stab wounds.

Tuesday, October 12

Job hunting is like dating. Suck.

I hate being home all day.  I hate not having a routine.  I hate being so bored that I look forward to 4pm...because then either I have a cocktail or a sweat session.  This depends on what kind of a day it is. ;)

Today was a good day.  I went for a short 3-mile run to the beach.

Yesterday wasn't so good.  I had a cocktail.  Then another.  And Mr. Wookie was home for my funk fest.  I don't think he was too intrigued by it.  But now he knows how boring it can be being home and not working.

But I realize this stuff take time.  I can't just wish myself a job.  I need to be a pain in the ass, make people see that I'm awesome, and they can't wait to hire me.  It'll just take a little bit of time.  So until then, I get to do the laundry, the dishes, make the bed every morning (stab me), and dream of Corporate America.

And Mr. Wookie is very happy being back on this coast.  So I have to be happy for him.  Because this is what we wanted.  Had we stayed in Virginia, he'd be gearing up for a deployment in the very near future.  And I'd be stuck in Virginia for Christmas.  Alone.

So until I land that job that makes me smile, it's Betty Homemaker.  Snore.

Monday, October 11

What??? It's Monday again??

Well Mr. Wookie scared the crap outta me when he woke up past 8:00am.  OMG, aren't you going into work today???  Apparently he has today off.  Due to working other days this week.  Okay, phew!

This marks Week #3 of "Let's improve this unemployment!"

I'd like work by January 1st.  I come to understand that while Ventura County is quite expensive to live in...their income levels aren't Orange County.  AND...this state is severely lacking in governmental structure.  So this shit-hole state (not your fault California, just who ever budgets your state dollars) is still on the rebuild.  Mrs. Wookie may not be making the top of her income spectrum...(boo)...but I guess a job is better than...well...this pathetic housewife life I live (snore!).

Ever used  Well...I can now say I have.

It's not new news that I'm the new kid in town and lack any sort of social circle outside of Mr. Wookie, a few of his squadron mates, and the 3 turtles who trust us for food.  Well...I found a fledging social group on MeetUp and decided to attend the coffee/thrifting event yesterday.

It was a blast.  I met some fantabulous people.  Half new to the area, half needing friends like myself.  So while no one was up for running a 10K or Half Marathon any time soon, I have some convincing to do.  But at least there were a few who were interested in kayaking and biking.  Yes, athletic endeavors!  I'm also going to join in on the Wednesday morning yoga of another group while I'm not bringing in the bacon.

Saturday was low-key as Middle Sister and Boyfriend came over for the Oregon State/Arizona game.  I didn't wear my lucky shirt from last week like I should.  Maybe that's why it was a closer game than we wanted.  But a win is a win.

I really should paint my toenails again.  They're getting kinda shabby.

Oh, yes, how could I forget.  Our lovely upstairs neighbors.  While we haven't heard anything since Saturday, that morning was another great time of hearing stomping, swearing, and someone leaving out the door.  I distinctly heard a "F*** you."  And we still can't come to any conclusion of what they could be fighting over.  Either way, fix your shit by either counseling or divorce papers.  As your downstairs neighbors, whichever is quieter.  Please.

I need coffee.  And I'd like that now.  Happy Monday y'all.

Friday, October 8

Friday's Fun with Wife of a Sailor

My birthday week continues as I fill in Friday's questions about our life with the Navy.  So while I soak in the fact that I'm 27, let's proceed with the questions of the week.  Shall we...

1. What is the longest road trip you've ever taken?
Norfolk, Virginia to Pt. Mugu, California.

Torture.  I hate driving.  My tongue got mutilated by the copious amounts of sunflower seeds I was eating (I figured out, this was the cheapest and easiest way for me to stay awake).  And it ended with Friday afternoon LA traffic.  Joy.

2. Do you collect anything?
For each duty station, I collect a small jar of sand.  [Pensacola, FL and Norfolk, VA]

3. What is your favorite part about being an adult?
Taking vacations.  Growing up, you don't appreciate the travels your parents take you one. Roadtrips are torture.  And who really wants to see this Crater that turned into a Lake that's up in the middle of nowhere.

Now we love to go to Crater Lake each winter and snowshoe.  And travels with the family now are a blast.  As long as Middle Sister doesn't go and injure herself.  Or throw up too many times from Mexican Frosted Flakes (they weren't Greeattt!!).  Or we don't run out of liquor (that's never happened - so we're good).

4. What song brings a tear to your eye?
"Where I'm Going" -Brad Paisley

5. Describe your first plane ride (how old you were, where you were heading, etc.)
I think I was 12.  It was down to Disneyland (from Oregon).  And I hated it.  I didn't like flying till I was almost 20.  There's something about not seeing where you're going, trusting to strangers to get you there safely, and thinking a crash from 32,000 feet will hurt.  That and "air bumpiness" (turbulence) is enough to turn me green.

I've learned now that cocktails before flying are amazing, a bottle of Nyquil can put an elephant down, airplane yoga calms the senses,  and if the person next to me is an Arm Rest Bandit...I'll crop-dust them on the way to the bathroom (since I always sit on the window).  Don't mess with me. :)