Archive for October, 2005

Question of the Day: Re-love.

Think back to the first person you fell in love with who reciprocated that love. I’m speaking here not of the girl whose pigtails you pulled in 3rd grade and who kissed you on the playground by the jungle gym. I’m talking about the first time you really thought you were in love and were old enough to know what that meant, with the good and bad that goes along with a relationship.

If you had the the opportunity, would you give that relationship another chance? Not to go back and live it over again, but to start it again new from where you both are now. Would you try again? Why or why not? I’m really interested in your answer, comment and get your friends to comment. . .please?



Yes, that’s right, I have a confession to make. I, Lori, the girl who “doesn’t like movies,” have become addicted to Hollywood Gossip Blogs. Me: The one who thinks paparazzi are cruel invasive demons and who doesn’t blame stars who punch or otherwise beleaguer privacy-stealing photographers. I’m obsessed.

It started small with just one blog, after a search to find out a bit more about Alexis Bledel. That was my gateway blog. Then I started looking at that evil blog’s links and adding more and more of them to my private blogroll. You’ll never see them, no, I’m much too embarrassed about this addiction to link to them on my site.

But I can tell you things now like Pink just got secretly married and that Paris Hilton’s new pet is a ferret, not a tiny shivering dog anymore.

Why? Why me? Is there some sort of rehab I can attend? I certainly can’t quit cold turkey. Is there help out there? Because I’m afraid if I don’t get some sort of intervention soon, this could get out of control.

Randomly Placed "Eugh!" Story

A little over a year ago I had all four of my wisdom teeth removed under general anesthesia. It all went off without a hitch. Yes, it hurt, but I didn’t have any of those horrible after-effects that they warn you about, like dry socket. I did everything they said: iced it, didn’t drink through straws, didn’t eat the forbidden foods.

Still, the four holes in the back of my mouth were rather interesting things to have. I can still just barely feel them now, but they felt like craters at the time. And they took a really long time to heal. My first follow up visit, I was fairly confident that they would praise my diligence and due care, but when they cleaned them out for me and I spit into the cup it kind of looked like a chunky brown soup. Which was quite shocking, but also fascinating at the same time.

They gave me this contraption (it resembled a hypodermic syringe only the pointy end was wider) with instructions to suck water into the the syringe and then stick the pointy end in each hole and depress, flushing the contents of the gaping black holes in my mouth after every meal. This had a certain appeal to it, I will admit. Firstly, after I was done, my mouth felt so clean. And secondly, spitting the backwash into the sink and trying to guess what the pieces were from was an interesting diversion. Thirdly, I got to carry around a syringe.

I kinda miss my black holes.

You make me wanna comment

But I think Haloscan is kaput. So Becky, Sarah, etc. I did comment, I really did. Maybe blogger is kaput too? Maybe I’m the only blogger left and I’m being kept in this artificial blog world just to see what will happen. AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Utter Darkness

I’m officially in a Blue Funk. A Big Blue Funk. Nothing is really fun at the moment. Work is monotonous. Home is monotonous. The sky is gray. The leaves aren’t even that pretty. I don’t have any hobbies. All I want to do when I get home from work is put on my pajamas and get under the covers. Only CSI reruns interest me.

Should I be worried about this? Maybe. But it’s happened to me before. It’s different than depression. I can shake it off for some parts of the day. I still enjoy being with my friends when I have plans. It’s my typical Blue Funk. It’s cyclical and it will go away. My solution is to just give into it for a while. If the Blue Funk wants pajamas, bed, and CSI at 7pm, that’s what it gets. Eventually the Blue Funk will want to venture outside again. Eventually the Blue Funk will dissipate. It’ll be fine.

I think part of it has to do with the fact that it’s still dark now when my alarm goes off. This is utterly depressing. Get up, get showered, put on clothes, brush teeth, put on make-up and trudge out to the car…still dark. Drive to work with the headlights on, thinking, “I could really still be sleeping. Sleep is nice.” And soon we’ll be turning the clocks back, which means that not only will I leave for work in the dark, but I’ll leave for home in the dark too.

Sigh. Any suggestions for the Blue Funk that are better than riding it out?

A Solution

I’m sure you are all sitting on the edge of your seats wondering how I handled the noisy neighbors situation. Well, because it wasn’t loud music or TV, it didn’t seem fair to go to the apartment managers for a noise the neighbors might not even have been conscious of. However, both my roommate and I are big chickens and we really don’t want to approach the folks next door ourselves. My roommate is mostly annoyed with the occasional, yet all too frequent, thumps and bumps; but my biggest beef, as you might remember was the vibration I could feel through the wall my room shares with their apartment.

So I’m not sure what she’s going to do. But I took action.

I rearranged my room. Now my bed doesn’t touch that wall and I hardly notice it at all.

That’ll show’em.

Welcome to my plagerized post

Well, not plagerized exactly. It’s just that I’m not feeling remotely creative, and I haven’t posted anything since Tuesday. So I figured I’d steal other people’s ideas. But it’s cool, because Big Dipper stole it from someone too.

You Google search images for
1. Place you grew up
2. Place you live now
3. Your name
4. Favourite drink
5. Favourite smell

Then you choose the first or your favourite image and post it.







A blog about my life and other stuff.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well (1937)