Lookin' For A Whip

I checked out a few rides yesterday.

I saw a '99 black Audi convertible, an '01 VW Cabrio and a few Hondas/Camrys.

Me likes the Audi but its got a gazillion miles on it (okay, really only 108,000k). It's soo sexy. Shiny and black with a black top. We'll see.

I'm checking out a Saab today. It's a 2001 9-3. Stick shift, moonroof, CD player. They're asking $11,500 but I think I can get it for $9,500.

I'll keep you posted.

RIP Gretta Jetta 1995 - 2005

Why does this whole bumming for rides thing feel so damn familiar?

Our dearly departed Jetta left us for greener pastures Tuesday afternoon. The experts did all they could, installing a new radiator hose and thermostat. But alas, she fell ill with fever and could not quite get her temperature down like she used to.

I need some real advice on buying cars. I'm ponying up sometime this weekend.

Long and short of what I've heard: Buy a Honda or Toyota.

My hip factor kind of cringes at driving something so, well, bland but reliable.

But then, 30 is not that far off in the distance so maybe it's time to ditch my marching to the beat of a different drummer thing.

Dad says I should pay cash for a beater and limp along until I have cash to buy something else.

I don't know how down I am with that idea.

Hungry Morning

From Friday's Feast

Appetizer
Name something someone has done lately that impressed you.
I can't believe I am going to say this: President Bush is impressing me with his upcoming trip to Texas BEFORE Rita's arrival.

Soup
Do you have any relaxing rituals? If so, what are they?
I like long walks in the rain, painting landscapes and hookah pipes.
Seriously, I'd have to say a glass of wine and Oprah at 4 PM is my M.O. for winding down before bed.

Salad
If you could spend the winter season somewhere other than your current location, where would you choose to stay?
Anywhere my family is (as they are not here with me in Cincinnati). If I had to pick a third location, it would probably be Charleston/Savannah.

Main Course
When was the last time you had dinner out, and what was the name of the restaurant?
Well I don't normally eat dinner out because of my effed up schedule. I DID have lunch yesterday at Teller's in Hyde Park, though. I recommend the crab stuffed portabello mushroom salad. Just fab.

Dessert
If you had a boat, what would you name it?
Sister Golden Hair

International Night

My blog was quite the hot spot early this morning among foreign friends.

Norway 00:18, 02:05, 03:49, 06:29 am Thursday
Saudi Arabia 04:05
Iran 01:33
Singapore 01:32
United Kingdom 01:31
Belgium 01:30
Canada 23:51 pm Wednesday


Welcome, Bienvenue, Wilkommen, Bienvenidos, Konichiwa, As-Salaam Aleikum, Bineati venit, Benvenuti!

Out Of The Ashes: Rebirth

"Sometimes you've got to hit rock bottom before you can make some changes in your life."

A smart quote said by an even smarter woman. My good gal pal D Money and I were talking about life's philosophical moments over a bottle of wine and a couple smokes last week. I normally don't take to tobacco, but God had handed me a tough couple days to grapple with my current, tragic flaw (surely you remember the definition of a tragic hero from High School? I only hope my flaw won't be the root of my demise) and so I felt a smoke was a small way to smooth the rattled nerves inside me.

I've long said I've been cursed with the misfortune of learning well from my mistakes. It seems, and this is the misfortune part, that I only learn best when I make mistakes myself. Life would be so much easier if I could learn from books, urban legends and the follies of friends, but then life isn't supposed to be easy, is it? So I've come to tread lightly and accept the fact that things will happen to me that add a dash of crisis to my days. I only hope I can be positive and happy when those moments happen.

And this week handed me one of those moments. I don't want to go into the gory details because, well, it's a bit embarrassing as it exposes a truly stupid weakness of mine. All I'll say is it has to do with financial irresponsibility and the reality that you've always got to pay the piper.

Let me backtrack a bit.

At 28 years of age, I have learned that growing up in a privileged lifestyle isn't all it's cracked up to be. Horseback riding lessons and fancy meals at fancy restaurants at 14 doesn't do well to teach a person that money doesn't grow on trees. My hand was always filled with cash whenever I needed money to buy a yearbook, new soccer cleats (a brand new pair for every season, of course) and even when I wanted to go to the movies with friends. As a teen, the car and its insurance was always paid for, and when I made it to college I didn't have to worry once about the possibility of school loans.

I was a lucky little girl.

But the world is a cruel one, and only realized after the lights went out (a few times, actually) that I had to pay my bills myself to keep the juice flowing.

Along with those bills come the awful chore of balancing a checkbook. Honestly, I've never given this tedious task the college try. Instead, I've always relied on bank phone lines and ATMs for balance information.

Boy, how wrong those sources can be.

In fact (and here's part of the confession of my stupidity), I've paid more than 500 dollars in overdraft fee in this month alone. My fashionista inklings scream in anger over the concession that's enough cash to pay for a kick ass Coach bag -and- a pair of Prada shoes.

After a couple weeks of penny pinching (some of it voluntary, some of it not so much) I've already paid almost a thousand dollars in debt, and I have firm plans to pay off the remaining two grand by the end of this calendar year.

If 27 was my year of growing up and shedding the Party Girl lifestyle, then it looks like 28 is shaping up to be the dawning of my financial responsibilities.

I'm guessing since 29 is about two months away, that's going to be the year of my body.

I should be in great emotional/financial/physical shape at 30. Perfect marriage material, right?

Reflection

I'm working on a bang-up post about my latest challenge (and my latest accomplishment) in life. It has to do with money (Where's Gomer Pyle when you need someone to say "Surprise, surprise, surprise?") and I'm about half way through my entry when something happened that forced me to put that message on the back burner.

Today I'm focusing on marriage. My dedicated readers, some of you all are good friends and might be able to nose around and figure out what/whom I'm talking about. I ask y'all to resist all urges and just let time and space be what they are.

Tonight I got a voicemail that rattled my very perception of what a happy marriage is.

The minute I heard Bling's words on the voicemail I knew there was trouble. She struggled to get the words out between the tears she was crying. I won't paint the whole picture for you because there are some things that are better left unsaid, but basically Bling told me it just wasn't her day. And that's putting it lightly.

At about a quarter til midnight I left Bling a voicemail back, telling her I'd be there in any way I could. She can have my weekend if she needs it, whether that's so I can cook for her, take her out for a pedicure or to the movies, or even babysit if she just needs some space to think.

All the while, I was thinking about how lucky I am, in a way. Lucky my emotions aren't tied to another's wants and needs. Lucky the only crises in my life are my own - situations given birth out of only my mistakes, choices and opinions.

I don't think this post is very cohesive today. I haven't had a time to really chew on what I want to say and synthesize it into a pretty package with cute words. Sometimes you can't put a pretty spin on a topic, you just have to let it all out.

Arrrrh, Mateys!

It's Talk Like A Pirate Day.

Get yer eye patch on and make some scoundrel walk the plank.

Sorry To Disappoint You

Some of you all have gotten here by searching the Web for some racy stuff.

According to my counter, you're looking for:

Hot woman in overalls
Girl with bra off
crazy pictures mardi gras

And some of you are still coming here looking for pics of Gwen Stefani.

Sorry you tumbled into a blog about little ol' me ;)

Cheers.

Calling All Voyeurs

So, today I told someone I was an exhibitionist.

They weren't surprised.

As time has passed, I've put my clothes back on and stopped the urge to shed the layers.

But that doesn't mean I don't walk around the house naked anymore.

What do you do when nobody's looking?

Work In Progress

Things I'm working on (literally or figuratively):

-Some innovative ideas for The Boss. I'm making a run at a shift change and he's asked me for a few ideas. I've got a few up my sleeve but this isn't the time or place to be spilling company trade secrets, ya know?

-My eyebrows. I'm done with the skinny lines above my baby blues. Going for something a bit thicker. Not Brooke Shields thicker, just something that's a little bit more "framing."

-My living room. Make that my living room-bedroom-kitchen-bathroom-and anywhere else. The Atom Bomb went off again when I wasn't looking. Now I'm left to deal with the consequences.

-My debt. By the end of the month I will have paid off $500 of my two grand in debt. Pooh pooh you might say, but hey, to me that two thousand bucks is a massive albatross around my neck. I've run reckless with abandon for too long and not a single sugar daddy has come along to pick up the pieces, so it's time to pay the piper. Or those people calling me. I should be debt free by the end of the calendar year. Until then: No Tiffany, No Coach, No Sephora binges and no Banana. Okay, Banana if it's a good sale. PS I heart these shoes. Anyone wanna buy them for me? I'm already trying to decide what I'm going to buy when all my debt is shored up. How effed up is that?

-My diet. I say I'm working on it because I really can't decide whether I want to do the No sugar/bleached flour/potato/pasta/anything made by the Starch Satan diet. Well, that's not entirely true. I've decided I want to do it, I'm just struggling to stick with it. Damn that Jessica Simpson. Why did she have to lose even -more- weight to be Daisy?! Bitch.

-My aspiration for a relationship. I'm working on that one by not working on it. I've already posted that. I just wanted to take this opportunity to say Kate reserves the right to change her mind should some potential (ie: a good piece of ass) comes her way. There's no one really on the radar, but I just wanted to make sure y'all couldn't call me weak if I decided to change my mind. See, it pays to read the fine print.

Oh and I didn't really mean it about that piece of ass thing.

-My hair. I've got another one of those epic hair appointment Thursday. I think I'm growing it out for winter (easier to put up and such) but I am really toying with the color. Should I go brown? I've never been brown. I think I'd feel like I had a new identity. Plus, if I really hated it, I have another appointment in a month.

-Harry Potter. I am 3/4 of the way through the first one. I suppose that deserves a round of applause considering I am making strides to join the rest of the world on the pop culture front. A tentative sleepover is planned (oooh, boys will be there) once I'm done with Book Three so some of us from Channel XX can watch the movies. You all are invited to the party provided you bring your own sleeping bag.

Remember, I'm not dating, right?

Bring On The Sausage

Ziga Zaga Ziga Zaga Oi Oi Oi!


Shame on you and your dirty mind. I don't mean sausages like the kind that's at a sausage fest. Not that kind of fest anyway.

I'm talking bratwurst, metts and even some wienerschnitzel.

Yeah, I said wienerschnitzel. How 'bout it?

I'm getting really excited about Cincinnati's big beer bash. Oktoberfest Zinzinnati is the world's second largest Oktoberfest (second only to Munich, yo) complete with all the goetta and sauerkraut balls a person could want while sharing gemutlicheit.

My #1 Gal Pal is coming up from Lexington this weekend so we can relive the old days and drink some beer downtown. Y'all are welcome to come along.

Prost!

Tears From Heaven... or Why I Was Crying In Church

Sometimes we all need a good cry. Sometimes we don't even realize we need a good cry. I was bowled over by emotion this weekend after an unexpected but enlightening lecture.

I'm still rockin' hard core with the Catholic faith, but I decided to give my friend's church a spin yesterday. It's one of those mega churches that are sprouting out across the country. Big auditoriums with rock bands and catchy movie clips to express the topic du jour. Coffee in the atrium before the service and people everywhere wearing jeans.

Not quite what you expect at my St. Mary's.

Anyway.

D Money and I went because the church is starting an interesting series on nookie. It's called Sex: What's The Big Deal, and there were a whole lotta people turning out in what I would think be the least likely of places to talk about effin'.

The service started with Marvin Gay's Let's Get It On blaring over the loudspeakers as this deep, chocolate voice started reading these flowery passages about milk and honey and your body is a temple of spun gold and blah blah blah. As it turned out, the phrases weren't a bunch of come-on lines strung together but the beautiful words of Song of Solomon. Quite an innovative way to get The Word out.

The 30-something pastor (was he a pastor? A preacher? I'm not really sure) then started a talk he said that would sound exactly the same as if we all were sitting on his back deck. He told us he was a virgin when he got married. "And not in the new meaning of virginity. When I got married, I hadn't licked anyone, and no one had licked me."

Well. Alrighty then.

Then he started talking about our sexual history and how it makes for a hardening of our hearts. The pastor said that with each encounter, we become desensitized to the gift sex can be when it's with a committed partner (read: husband or wife). He said God actually loves sex and cheers us on whole heartedly (picture the pastor doing arm pumps in the air at this point) when we're with our spouse.

The whole talk gave me a lot to talk about. I started crying as I looked back on each relationship with my past. I became regretful with just how much I gave to people (and I am speaking here more in the emotional sense here as opposed to the physical) and how much I got trashed in return.

Then I started thinking about how I've started looking again in all the wrong places for love. Bars, I would have to say, are the last spot a person should check out if they're seeking a committed relationship.

And I also started thinking about how I've been looking just too damn hard for too damn long. All the crazy internet sites (okay, they're really not all that wacky, but some of the people on there are) and all the wild parties. I've looked in bible studies and at wine bars. I've looked in coffee shops and book stores.

And I've got nothin' folks.

And so the little talk on doin' the nasty inspired me to take a break from dating. That doesn't mean I do that kind of thing every time I'm on a date (I ain't no hollaback grrl), but I've come to discover that at 28 years of age, pretty much every guy I go out with has an ulterior motive that has something to do with getting me out of my skivvies.

And I'm not so down with that.

I still plan on going out. I'll even have the occasional conversation with strange men. But until I decide to call this thing off, I'm just gonna stay single.

Cheers.

Friday's Feast Is Back (But I'm Posting It On Monday)

From Friday's Feast

Appetizer
Who is the easiest person for you to talk to?
That would either be D Money or my Honorary Big Sis.

Soup
If you could live in any ancient city during the height of the quality of its society and culture, which one would you choose?
Hmm. Choices, choices. I'm really not down with the whole raping and pillaging thing, so I'd steer clear of London circa Hadrian's Wall. Maybe Rome as that's next on my travel itinerary and there's just something about those Roman Baths.

Salad
What is the most exciting event you've ever witnessed?
Wow. Am I allowed to talk about something illegal? Seriously, I'd have to say, in regards to recent times, it was the baptism of GOP Big Wig's baby. Talk about a remarkable thing to see... another Catholic at the beginning of his spiritual journey. The baby's a stunner, too.

Main Course
If you were a celebrity, what would you do for a publicity stunt?
I'm not down with the whole Im-Gonna-Show-My-Ass-Off-'Cause-I'm-Drunk a'la Tara Reid. I'd have to say, I'm more likely to go to Africa or Thailand like Brangelina.

Dessert
What do you consider the ideal age to have a first child?
Well, time keeps marching on with a total disregard for my biological clock (did I tell y'all I had a dream I had a baby? What does that mean?), so I'm gonna go long and say 35.

We Are The World: Part Two... And Other Random Musings

Michael Jackson is coming out with a new single to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. He wants new celebrities to get on board.

But c'mon. Would you really buy it?

***

That new movie The Exorcism of Emily Rose looks effin' scary. I really want to go see it only because there are few thrillers that rattle my cage. All those other suspense flicks are, well, okay. But this shit about the devil, it has a way of pressing my God-Fearing-Catholic buttons. I clicked on the trailer and just that gutteral moaning had me jumping out of my skin. I was literally shrieking at my desk. The Guy Who Sits Next To Me says he won't go see the flick with me. I guess I don't blame him.

But I digress.

***

My birthday is in less than three months, and I say it's never too early to start planning. What should a girl do to kick off the last year of her 20s? I'm thinking big. Like maybe a vodka ice luge? All night limo ride? Okay, it's not Vegas, but I'm hoping for the next best thing.

***

What's up with the rumors claiming Yasser Arafat had AIDS? My old stand by The NYT says it's not so, but lots of other journalists in the Middle East say that's the case. The guy's been dead since November. Let him stay dead. Gosh, they're always looking for something to fight about over there.

***

As I've said before, I loves me some Fitty Cent. I don't know why, but the ghetto thug, iced-out-with-a-wifebeater look is kinda hot. Must be because it's the complete antithesis of my white bread, livin'-in-the-suburbs-riding-around-in-the-back-of-a-Volvo childhood.

Anyway. A plot to kill a rap mogul? Now there's something that's unheard of. How will Jacob the Jeweler stay in business?

Re:

hey there cutie sorry it has taken soooo long to get back with you I feel like this has been my first free second since I got back up here I am in high demand.....lol Wow! that must be pretty exciting working in journalism I bet you see some pretty intresting things. I am in ky and will be here for sometime it looks like I am trying to get to the point where I can be here most of the time I would love to get to know you still give me a buzz when you get a chance 859-xxx-xxxx Brad

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: This is something I just got in one of my inboxes (I have four email accounts. How many do you have?) from someone I met on one of those God awful dating websites. He played college football for my favorite team and says he's successful, spending his time between two homes: one in KY and one in FL.

First- I hate it when someone calls me cutie.
Second-I think it's so lame that he says he's in high demand. Last I looked, my social calendar was pretty booked, too, bucko.
Third-Yes. I work in journalism. I appreciate it when someone can string a cohesive sentence together. Next?
Fourth- So you would love to get to know me? How about asking for MY phone number. I hate it when the calling is left up to me.

But that doesn't mean I won't ring his digits, anyway.

The Party Girl's Low Budget Blues

So I am ghetto poor right now.

Sunday someone asked me what the difference was between being just poor and ghetto poor. "Ghetto poor is when you consider committing crimes to stay afloat," was my response. Okay, so maybe that's a stretch, but right now my goal is to be fairly debt free by the end of the calendar year, so that means a drastic tightening of the financial reins.

So this party girl is looking for ways to draw out a dollar.

Tonight I'm going to opening night of Evita at Cincinnati's Aronoff Center. I am so looking forward to the show; Don't Cry For Me, Argentina was my audition song for performances in high school. The other great thing about the show is it's scott free. Cincinnati's Broadway series is sponsored by my station's parent company, so I get season tickets for free.

Now, that's a cheap thrill.

This coming Sunday I'm invited to a Bengals party. I'm happy to drink free beer and munch on free food in exchange for bringing a dish with me.

Before that, the Cincinnati Art Museum is kicking off it's annual One World Series, which showcases art, food and drink from remote reaches of the world. Wednesday is all about Japan, and I can get in free because I'm a member of the art museum.

What's your favorite way to trim the fat from your social budget? A thrifty gal is always looking for a hot tip.

I Keep Getting Richer

So my heiress status continues to grow.

I'm now worth about seven million bucks. Oh, if only it were real. I'd be getting my 420 CLK pronto.

A Broad On The Big Easy

I think I would have really liked New Orleans.

She seems like the town I would have really gotten along with. I say this in the past tense because I really wonder whether The Big Easy will be restored to all its brassy glory after Hurricane Katrina.

N'Awlins always struck me as the type of place with a little bit of Southern charm, a cup full of Catholicism, a dash of mystery and legend and a whole lot of bravado. The great thing about New Orleans is there's so much more to it than it's loudness, its brazen sexy attitude. The city is a smart one. She's got a lot of history, old fashioned class and great ghost stories.

New Orleans is a lot like me.

I am in love with places that encourage friendship and a release of inhibitions. Please, don't take that to mean I want everyone running in the streets nude, drunk and shooting their glocks off (let's leave that to Tijuana), but I have to say I am a big supporter of all those spots that encourage a free-for-all kind of fun.

New York City at New Years. Pamplona. Savannah on St. Patrick's Day. Rio at Carnivale.

And New Orleans at Mardi Gras.

Truth be told, I'm probably one of those chicks who would have bared her, ahem, all for the sake of tradition and a few cheap beads. The saying goes When in Rome... so I suppose when you're in New Orleans you're supposed to show a bit of skin.

Plus, it's a great story to tell the grandkids.

Aside from the whole Girls Gone Wild factor, there are so many things this nation is going to miss if New Orleans figuratively sinks into the depths of our memories. The town's music scene is legendary. We owe a debt of thanks to the Big Easy for Connick and the entire Marsalis family. And no, I didn't forget Louis Armstrong or Trent Reznor (now there's an unlikely pair if I ever heard one). And a special shout out here for my personal favorite Better Than Ezra.

New Orleans has ingrained itself into the American Diet, too. Merci Beaucoups, Grande Dame, for the gumbo, the po' boys, the bignets and the jumbalaya.

Where else in the world can you tell someone you just sucked the head off and not get a dirty look?

Thank you, N'Awlins for Paul Prudhomme and of course Emeril Lagasse. BAM!

New Orleans has made its way into our books, too. Anne Rice holds court down there in the Bayou, and Truman Capote made many of his memorable quips from the incredible city.

We certainly owe a lot to New Orleans.

And we must move back.

I'd hate for the city to become a modern day Atlantis, a legend of a city that sunk into the waters, taking culture and history and tradition with it to the sea below. We must support the recovery efforts cropping up post Hurricane Katrina to ensure the city thrives again. We must spare no expense in wringing out New Orleans, giving it a good air dry and sending the construction crews back in for demolition and renovation.

Please contact the Red Cross at 1-800-HELP NOW or click here for more information on donating to the cause.

We must help these poor people stay afloat (no pun intended) so they can return to their homes, their lifestyle, their tradition.

Besides, I need someone to show off to when I go down there for Mardi Gras someday.

Dear Diary,

It's been a while since I sat down with my newly sharpened pencil and jotted a few lines on your pages. There are so many things I've been wondering about. Why did Ground Chuck bring me apples to work? Why did that guy from Seattle pounce on me at the German Fest? Why am I fighting off that crush that's growing for Someone Who Remains Nameless (that probably has a few of you wondering, doesn't it?)

I had a really nice time this weekend seeing all my friends. Friday night I went out to a bar on Main Street and drank my fair share and then some at a Happy Hour for young professionals. Lots of young people, but I don't know what they'd be considered professionals of.

But I digress.

Saturday was action packed and full of extremes. I started my day at 12:30 (yes, there was some grand sleeping in to be done) at a Cincinnati country club for a pool party. It was thrown by the mother of one of my best friends GOP Big Wig, and everything was lovely. The cake was shaped like a giant, green flip-flop with pink flowers, perfectly matching the invites. It felt great sipping on a Bloody Marys, digging in to some great barbeque and visiting with friends. Of all my friends, GOP Big Wig has the most impeccable style, and a lot of her friends are the same way; all lovely, all dressed to a T, and all uber-nice. The party was a stunning way to spend the afternoon.

Saturday night was a bit more of a melee. D Money and I went to an Oktoberfest celebration (in August, I wonder?) and had a great time. We rolled out with her brother and his friend (two American Heroes back in the states after serving in Iraq) and caught up with the guy D is dating and some of his pals. The whole thing was wild. Pour some German beer, add a wild crew and stir.

Ziga zaga ziga zaga oi oi oi!

After a few dramatic pictures of varying poses, including one surprise snapshot that featured a boy with his lips square on mine, we all (yes all seven of us) crammed in D's car and made it to our hotel for the night.

Oh, mind your manners and wash that dirty mind of yours.

Anyway.

The craziness continued. One grown man ended up swimming in the hotel pool in his green, suede lederhosen (not to mention a very wet cell phone). We also had a grown man peeing in the sink of the wet bar. Someone ended up kissing someone else, and we had two hot guys in one bed just dying for a chick to get in the middle.

Don't you love how I can switch from descriptive to vague like *that*?

It was a crazy weekend, one that warranted some rest and reflection before I felt comfortable posting about it. Okay, so maybe that's not true, but it sounds like a good excuse, doesn't it?