Thursday, July 31, 2003

FiFi has a new sleepy bear friend. I adopted him from the Outer Banks Bear Factory, located in Scarborough Faire Shopping Center in Duck, NC, where, in case you are living in a bubble, is in fact where I happen to be vacationing at this point. Are we all caught up now? Good. Fascinating place, this bear factory, actually. You go in, and you pick out a non-stuffed bear from plastic bins. It's a bit disturbing, actually, to rummage through bins of bear carcasses, but it does get better. My Bear Master (or BM for short. Heh heh, BM...) was named Steve. He said he owned the place. Anyway, after I'd picked out my bear carcass, Steve told me to come over to a big machine that was churning fluff in a glass contraption. It has a steel tube attached to it, where the fluff was supposed to come out. Steve commanded me to stand on The Magic Spot, which was somewhere on the floor. I couldn't quite see the Magic Spot, but Steve said most people from Virginia didn't. (Ok-ay.) Anyway, Steve then asked me to select from a shelf of plastic bags, each containing a puffy little star and a few grains of sand. I chose one with a pink star. (Ever since I got FiFi, I've been naturally gravitating towards pink. I think it's some mother instinct thing. I don't know). Steve told me to close my eyes, make a wish (I won't tell what I wished for) then to spin around in a circle. Steve then told me I had spun in the wrong direction. (Yeah, I know, it's a lot to go through, but this bear is damn cute.) I spun around in the opposite direction, then was instructed to hop up and down twice. Steve then took the bag from me. The bear had an opening in his back, and Steve placed the little bag into the pouch so that "the bear would always carry the stars as well as a little bit of the beach with him wherever he goes." Aww.

Next, Steve placed the bear's pouch around the tube, and told me that when he said "go" to step on a black petal that was connected to the machine. I was instructed to make sure that I let up on the pedal immediately when he said "stop," so as not to get fluff on the floor. I braced myself to step on the pedal.

"Ready, set...stop!" I stumbled. "Almost had her!" Steve sighed. Steve is a funny guy. Really.

Finally after it was okay to push my foot down, the machine whirred and my bear magically inflated. After it was done (and yes, I didn't get any fluff on the floor) I was instructed to hug the bear and then was able to go and get Bear Apparel for him. I established it was a he from the very beginning, kind of like when you spot Chanel from the window display at a department store. Anyhoo, I got him the official Outer Banks Bear Factory sweatshirt. At the checkout, the lady asked me his name.

"His!" [Gunther was what I was thinking of naming my second dog, if I decided to get one. Since FiFi's name begins with an "F", the second dog's would begin with a "G." I had been throwing around Gunther (pronounced GOO-nther) or Gus.]

"Gunther? Okay!" she replied cheerfully. I guess she was used to having many people with many different names coming at her all summer. So Gunther was just a run of the mill thing for her. Anyway, she then filled out a birth certificate, complete with Gunther's name, date of birth, and when she asked who he was purchased for, I didn't give it a second thought.

"FiFi." I told her when she asked. She again cheerfully wrote in the blank my dog's name like she was an old pro at this. Then she let me dress him. She was a bit miffed when I put him in his plastic bag head first. I guess I came off as an ogre at first, but after I thought about it for a sec, I decided to put him in the Kate Spade with his head poking out so he would be able to breathe. She seemed relieved. I would love to be a fly on the wall for the Outer Banks Bear Factory New Employee Orientation. (Policy #2055583: Encourage customers not to potentially suffocate their new friends/purchases in the yellow plastic bags upon checkout. It is preferred that customers take home their bears in their own bags, preferably with said bear's head not obscured by yellow plastic bag.)

Next stop was the specialty store (and NO, I am not making this up) Try My Nuts. Yes. The name of the store is Try My Nuts. Again: I WILLINGLY WALKED INTO A PLACE OF BUSINESS THAT IS LISTED IN THE PHONE BOOK AS WELL AS REGISTERED WITH THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU AS Try My Nuts. Needless to say, TRY MY NUTS is a place where you can buy...nuts. All types of nuts. I bought a bag of honey roasted peanuts, a bag of butter roasted peanuts, as well as a bag of chocolate covered peanut brittle. But the majority of my money was spent buying the male baheads some Try My Nuts merchandice such as beer huggies ("they'll keep your cans cold," the clerk told me. Eww!) and key chains. No way was I bringing home any of the T-shirts. I'd like to think our men have standards. (BTW, the only guy I didn't purchase for in that store was Micah. NO WAY was I bringing anything that said "Try My Nuts" home to a married man. Sorry.)

I got home, climbed on my bunk and sorted out the presents by person/couple. My cousin Bridget (age 6) soon wandered in and climbed up on my bunk to join me. I offered her a sampling of the bags of peanuts and peanut brittle I got, and we both agreed that those were some damn good nuts. We both agree the chocolate covered peanut brittle was our favorite. (DISCLAIMER: In no way did I contribute to the delinquency of a minor, although Bridget is able to read labels, and did, at said snack time, knew the name of the store, she never understood the innuendo. Thank Christ.)

Okay, I've lived with a boy for about a week now...I swear if I ever say I want to again...please beat me senseless over the head!

Ugh! They are so gross. I've never had brothers, and I am considering that a blessing. The bathroom is now so absolutely revolting I am afraid to go in there. I'm almost considering bunking on the couch, keeping my suitcase in the basement, and showering in my parent's room. I cannot wait to get home to a clean apartment with my little white dog and my special friends. I am missing you guys this Thursday night. I can't wait to see everyone to give them their presents! Today was Shopping Day. I returned to Scarborough Faire, and relished in it's cuteness. It was the only thing I could really relish, since the prices of the stuff in the little boutiques were outrageous. Luckly, I found a special place here that had very nice items for very nice prices. I found an outfit for "Luau Night" (tommorrow night. Everyone gets lei-ed. Wakka wakka wakka.)- A day-glo turquoise bathing suit, a sarong of a similar color with blue and yellow splashed patterns on it, and a blowsy top to wear over the bathing suit. Also found some tropical looking flowers at the nearby dollar store to use in my hair. I think it's going to be a hit.

Last night was fun, basically now have finished the body of the FiFisaurus Rex costume and have sewed little purple and white polka dots on it as well. I rented some movies to watch as I knit, but so far have had litle time to watch them, since every time I walk out of the room and come back a few minutes later, someone is using my TV to watch game shows or Elmo tapes. Tonight, going to try to do the ribbing. Also will not leave the TV unless the house is burning down. I wanna watch my movies, damn it!

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

Wow! Apparently, the New York Times reveals that Sex and The City protagonist and FiFi's namesake, Carrie Bradshaw will fall in love big time this season. Unfortunately, it is not with the character I think she should end up with, Mr. Big (played by the most delicious Law and Order alum, Chris Noth).

Of course, I am biased, as a certain Mr. Big of my own has strolled into the foreground of my life recently. Don't worry, those of you Corner readers that are concerned of a "rebound thing." We're really having a lot of fun together these past few weeks, hanging out with mutual friends as well as with FiFi. Big and I have been pals for years. Unfortunately, he knows all the dirty details of my life up til now, and he seems not to mind that a very fluffy pink-clad princess of a pooch and her equally fluffy owner have pranced into his world and suddenly occupy a significant amount of his time. There was always a certain je nais se quoi between us, although we never really acted on it because we were both seriously involved with other people. Now that we're both free, we've decided to channel our collective energy into enhancing our friendship into possibly more. We realize the risk involved, but are hoping that our friendship is strong enough to get us through everything, as long as HONESTY, RESPECT, and TRUST (things that I will have to get used to receiving again from an admirer) are primo. I am optimistic, and for the first time in a LONG time, I am relaxed, happy and feel safe. Thanks Big. (DISCLAIMER: Most of the readers of this site are mutual friends of Mr. Big and myself. Out of respect for everyone, details will be scant at best. Privacy is crucial. Although I feel I am preaching to the choir on this, please know this is my official stance. Merci Beaucoup et Gracias muchachos. And please don't call him Mr. Big when you see him. Thanks. )

Still coming soon: FiFi's Glam-O-Ramma Foto Gallery. As soon as computer comes home from factory, where it is being repaired for a cracked screen.

Mondo waves! I decided to venture out this afternoon after I saw how rough the waters were. Since we got here, the ocean has resembled a big salty pond. I got in about 45 minutes of bodysurfing. The waves tossed me around, and it was a bit offputting to look down and see manna rays swimming underneath me, towards the bottom. Not wanting to step on them, I decided to quit. Just as I was getting settled again, a new coat of 30 on me, Vogue turned to the article on Sarah Jessica Parker, thunder clapped overhead. A wicked storm blew up pretty quickly. So now I am alternating between here at the computer and working on FiFisaurus Rex. More later.

The sun and the coolness of the pool are so addictive today, usually this stauch indoor kid is only coming in for lunch (peanut butter sandwich- natch) and heading right back out again, all the while using mass quantities of SPF 30. I realize what a water baby I am. Poolside, Mom is trying to offer some sage advice, which she has taken up as her full-time job when it comes to me these days. Unfortunately, for her, it's something I already know:

"Jennifer, if you just went once a week to the Y. That's all. Just swam laps, or played in the water. You'd come back. You love the water! Don't get caught up in all those extreme exercise turdburgers (my words, not hers...I figure the nagging needed a bit of spicing up). Just do your own thing. Start out slow."

True, Mommers, very true.

I was trying to think about my ultimate happy place. I consider myself a person who can find a happy place in just about any setting. But there are some scenarios that are absolutely primo, in that I get there and have a hard time leavin':
1) Outer Banks beaches are the most beautiful on the East Coast. Gorgeous dahling. So sweet that Tom and Nicole were rumored to have a house here while they were still Tom and Nicole.
2) Pub. Nuff said.
3) Tubing down rivah with pals (how about it, baheads?). Not the snotty end, but the good old naturific section with plenty of shade and quiet time, preferably near one of the parks. Snotty people tend to shy away from parks because there is no valet parking service. Speaking of, Maymont and Chimberazo Parks are kick-ass as well. Again, very de-snottified.
4) Disney World, despite it's creepy corporate undertones, it's a happy friggin place for me. Long walks, places to veg fantasies, fake mock-ups of exotic countries, science, nature, zen buddhism, peace and love. You want it, you got it.
5) France. Yes. France. For three years, I had given up on France, since it wasn't a fave with my then-number-one traveling partner. France is beautiful. And like anything in life worth having, it does take a lot of getting used to, a lot of effort, like a high-maintenance man. France doesn't run to you, arms outstretched, full of promises it doesn't intend to keep. France isn't easy, cheap, or codependent. France is "f*ck you, I don't care until you show me you can hang with me." Americans are not French-o-philes by nature, and the French are so xenophobic you might as well be damn fluent in the language and culture before you visit (I learned that the hard way), but once you've lounged on the beaches of Nice, or sat chatting with fellow travelers with the Eiffel Tower as your backdrop, or tiptoed through the church at Mont San Michel, you'll swear it was all worth the work. And the art is magnificant. DaVinci, Rodin, Piccasso, Stein, Henry Miller- you feel their presence. And you will have a buddy for life in France, that unlike a high-maintenance man, will never drain on you or stress you out, but like a skillful lover will boost you, embrace you, inspire you. (Whew. Anyone got a hose?)

Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Tonight we celebrated my cousin Kristen's birthday party. She got a couple of nice things for her new house in Roanoke, where she works at a bank. We had swordfish, tuna, my uncle's special shrimp and angel hair pasta, as well as cheesecake for dessert. Afterwards, we kids climbed into the hot tub.

So far FiFisaurus Rex is coming along quite nicely, and I only had to start over again once. Luckly, I've tweaked the directions somewhat to fit my knitting style.

Also I've been continuing to contemplate my life. Really, my plans for what to do next. It's no big shocker to most readers that I wasn't really happy with my life these past few months. In letting go of the last three years, I realize how much of myself was shelved. You realize, when you evaluate your time spent with someone, how much of that time was spent stroking, petting, boosting that other person, and how much of a drain that can be. For the first time in three years, I listened to my favorite Eryka Badu CD. I've drifted back over to the middle of the bed when I sleep, instead of staying to one side. I realized how, no matter how long it has been since I've been to the beach on a family vacation, that the traditions of peanut butter sandwichs for lunch and multiple walks during the day feel the same as when they did a few years ago. And that no matter how old I am, I still feel good when my uncle Bobby calls me "Sugah" or when Papa pats me on the head and walks on the beach showing off the MCV Grandparent T-shirt I bought him, combined with the Va Tech stuff Kristen and Shannon bought him, as well as some UVA adornment from Brendan, saying that although he looks mixed up, he knows that he raised some good grandkids.

I also realize how smart I am, how much I love animals, and how much I love the water. I want to expand my creativity. I want to scuba dive, maybe train to do search and rescue diving. I want to learn how to surf. I wanna take a sewing class. Not all at once, just one thing at a time. One of my new things is to not really worry about the future, just to live in the present. When I think about all that, all these things, I realize I am going to be okay.

There is nothing like a concoction known as "The Painkilla" to take away bad vibes. Went out to a bar and grille last night with Kristen and Shannon, trying to be as uberhip as we can with two minors and two older women in tow, one of which was Kristen's mom. Trying very hard to keep Bridget Jones at bay whilst I slurped from my pirate cup. Kristen ordered a drink called "The Teeny Weenie Bikini" and it came in a real raunch-o cup shaped like a woman's torso. You could not grab it without looking like a total perv, so we gave it to Brendan. Pictures to follow soon.

So far, I've seen real live fox, a turtle, a rabbit, a wild horse a deer, some dolphins and a whole lotta unlucky manna rays that keep getting caught in fishing hooks. I could make my own Disney movie.

Today it is overcast, cloudy, with fog rolling in, so much so, you can't see the ocean from our house, which is oceanfront. It's perfect day to work on FiFisaurus Rex.

Monday, July 28, 2003


Thanks to Daddy, who brought along his computer, I am able to blog from the beautiful yet scalding hot sands of the Outer Banks. Got here yesterday around 4, promptly jumped into the pool adjacent to our house, ate dinner and fell asleep in my bunk whilst watching J-Lo in The Wedding Planner. This morning dragged Mom to Wal-Mart in a vain attempt to find double-pointed knitting needles for FiFisaurus Rex costume. They had none. Also went to Scarborough Faire shopping center, specifically, The Island Bookstore, which is a nice kept secret that also happens to be biking distance from our mammoth compound of a house. I was searching for Cindy "Sex And The City" Chupack's book Between Boyfriends, but instead found Bark at The Moon, which is the story of The Osbournes dogs, as well as The Yarn Girls Guide to Simple Knits. I plan to go back to Scarborough on Thursday (payday...thank God for direct deposit!) to buy presents for the gang.

Speaking of, had another Bridget Jones moment on Saturday. Actually, more than a moment. More like an era. But I have no regrets. I chalk it up to the fact that I was seriously missing my FiFi, whom I had dropped off earlier at Holiday Barn, and needed a bit of T.L.C. from friends. Luckly, they stepped up to the plate and delivered, along with some Captain Morgan. Special thanks to Micah and Megan, who let me crash on their couch. You guys are the hosts with the most, as I have said before. Hopefully, you are not miffed by my overnight presence in their house, and will be on speaking terms with me when I get back. :D

There is nothing like a walk on the beach to deliver a nice cleansing to the aura. I've been contemplating my life recently. I've come to the conclusion that marriage is not all that different than wearing Christian LaCroix. LaCroix on the right person looks stunning. LaCroix on me looks like the Hindenburg trying to fit in a glo-in-the-dark Trojan. But I can admire the beautiful high quality fabrics, the cuts and lines, the colors. And maybe one day, the fashion gods will smile upon me and LaCroix will create something that makes me feel and look like Heidi Klum's much hotter younger sister, but in the meantime, Armani works for me. Versace too. And Kate Spade, you can never go wrong with Kate Spade. Oh, and Manolo...

More tommorrow!

Friday, July 25, 2003

Things to do before vaca:

1) Work (check)
2) Clean out car
3) Meet up with friends, have pack-my-suitccase party with Harp Lager and Papa John's Pizza
4) Drop off Feefer at Holiday Barn Animal Respite. Sniff.

Things to do on vaca:
1) Fuhgettabout work
2) Work on Fifi's Halloween costume/Stair Fair project: "Fifisauraus Rex!"
3) Read mags.
4) Miss Fifi terribly
5) Get tan
6) Swim in pool
7) Take long walks

Monday, July 21, 2003

Computer needs serious fixing. Son of a...

Anyway, today was a typical hellish Monday. Four patients, an admission, as well as training a new girl. Patricia and I got along swell, so all in all it wasn't a bad day. I treated her to lunch at Casa Grande, and we comiserated on lost loves. Just got home about an hour ago from a church meeting. Sometimes, although it's all positive, I just feel pulled, and that makes me grouchy. I just hate it when stuff takes me away from FiFi. Already I feel pangs of guilt because she hangs out with her Grammy more than me. My mom is great, but she lets FiFi get all riled up at bedtime, plus lets her watch Emergency Vets, which I feel is too scary for her. I can't imagine how working mothers with human children feel. Tomorrow night, uninterrupted Mommie-Puppie bonding time.

In other news, have expanded my DVD collection to include: Empire Records, Lilo and Stitch, and Chasing Amy. So far, FiFi likes all of them:

Empire...: A very young Renee Zellweger with really dirty hair. Kick-ass soundtrack. Feefer likes Lucas (Rory Cochrane).

...Amy: Always a classic, love the Kevin Smith-Joey Adams post breakup bashfest on the commentary. FiFi likes Jason Lee the best.

Lilo...: Outcast independent little chick and her scruffy temperamental pet against the world. 'Nuff said. A new classic in the FiFi DVD collection.

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Aaah! My computer screen has cracked. To be continued.

Me likey the new look to the blog. In attempting to revamp the other gifs from cats to dogs, I trashed my old template, and it's now nowhere to be found on the blogger template pick-n-choose. Still, I am warming up to it. More polished. But still trying to find pup graphics to spruce it up a bit.

FiFi has become the latest edition to the Baheads Yahoo Group. Check out her orientation questionaire by clicking on Da Baheads. In other FiFi news, you can write to her at her brand new email address (see the sidebar? Click on Write to FiFi. Good dog.) Being so smart, it didn't take her long to learn how to surf the net and make her mark on the information super highway. Now, if I can only get her to consistantly stop peeing on the rug...

After a particularly hellish Satuday on-call and paperwork out the wazoo, things have calmed down somewhat. We put in Shrek a couple of hours ago. FiFi now adds "animated dragons" to her list of animals, (including rats, lightining bugs, and my parent's dogs) that scare her.

Coming soon: FiFi's Glam-A-Ramma Foto Gallery.

Friday, July 18, 2003

Last night: A very fighteningly accurate impression of Bridget Jones.

Tonight: Watchin movies with the Feefer Dog, getting her set up to be internet savvy.

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

Daily Expense Account:

Breakfast sandwich at BK: $1.77

Total toll fare traveling to and fro around city of Richmond: $3.00 (ballpark figure)

Lunch with John Y. at Mi Hacinenda: $7.50 (we went dutch)

August issue of Vogue, with my homegirl and FiFi's namesake, Carrie Bradshaw's, alter-ego, Sarah Jessica Parker on the cover: $6.00

Guilty pleasure CD purchase of Madonna: The Imaculate Collection, along with 2 CDs by The Donnas, Get Skintight and Spend The Night: $49.95

The look on the face of the guy you have a crush on walking in on you as you are dancing around to above said Madonna CD trying to choreograph a dance routine with your dog to Track 3- "Borderline": PRICELESS.

Sunday, July 13, 2003

Someone, I believe it was Maya Angelou, once said that she never liked full moons- they encourage people to do foolish things. I used to believe, but with the full moon this weekend came a feeling for me that I haven't felt in a while, too much longer than I would care to mention. I wouldn't be where I am without my friends, one in particular (you know who you are). As well as FeeferDog, who is keeping me focused. Right now we are full-on into Magazine Day, which involves me reading the weekly rags and patting her and in turn she lays next to me. Life is good.

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Things in the apartment that are bigger than FiFi:
1) The television set.
2) The DVD player
3) My 2 liter bottle of Diet Coke
4) The laptop
5) The trash can
6) The sink
7) A tile on my kitchen floor
8) Her new favorite toy, Squeaky Bear
9) My stuffed dog/Kings Dominion Guess-Your-Age-Or-Weight prize, Mr. Ruff-Ruff
10) Most of the other stuffed animals

Tuesday, July 08, 2003

New puppy! Florence Chanel Carrie Bradshaw Smith, better known as FiFi or FeeferDog. Am bonding with her as we speak. Bonding meaning sitting on water bed watching tv together, occasionally nibbling on a snack. More later.

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

July already.

For once, I am glad June is over. I think this is the first time since I was 14 and a teen asshole that I will be happy that the summer will end come late August.

Our fam vaca comes in late July. Next weekend I am supposed to go to a wedding in PA with John. But I am still not sure I am going to go. I have a lot of stuff to do around here, and being around nauseatingly happy couples doesn't really float my boat these days.

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