In My Head


Tuesday, February 28, 2006
So I'm a little late to the party with discussing American Idol, but I have to say that my early favorites are Lisa Tucker and Ace Young. However, this post is going to be solely dedicated to Ace.

First of all, YUM! He is totally scrumptious. Kinda reminds me of an Abercrombie & Fitch model. My husband would never believe this, but most of the guys I find attractive have longish hair, scruff, and dress in a style that can only be called "derelicte riche." In my opinion, the only thing that could make Ace hotter is if he had several key body parts pierced -- specifically, his eyebrow and maybe his navel. I just love it when men have subtle, tasteful piercings. HOT.

Ahem.

Secondly, his first solo performance in Hollywood last week was George Michael's "Father Figure." To paraphrase Simon's critique of the performance, this song was a fantastic choice for this guy.

He was all breathy and intense during his performance. When he sang "to be warm and naked, at your side," accompanied by what I assume is the next best thing to the actual expression on his face at the point of orgasm...well, I think I spontaneously ovulated.

He wrapped up the performance by gazing pleadingly into the camera, with a look that Constantine patented on last season's American Idol, creatively and aptly-named "eye-fucking."

My initial reaction to all this? Oh yes, sweetie...you can be my daddy. Every night, baby. Every night.

If you want to bask in the glow of his performance, here's a link.

Squee!

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Posted by Lori at 2/28/2006 12:58:00 PM |
Friday, February 17, 2006
Well, here I am, sick again. This winter has been horrendous.

Let's see: I came down with strep throat two days before New Year's eve, which sucked. Now I am fighting some kind of upper respiratory infection, with sinusitis (I suspect) along for the ride. I got a week's worth of Levaquin from my doctor yesterday and have been blowing some extremely nasty stuff out of my head ever since I started it last night.

However, this antibiotic is not without side effects, the most noticeable of which is insomnia. I took the first pill, along with 2 Aleve, last night around 8 p.m. I got into bed at 8:15, and had the lights out by 9 p.m. But I didn't fall asleep until well after 11 p.m. Then I kept waking up frequently, and it took seemingly forever to fall back asleep each time.

Finally, I awoke at 3:30 a.m. because my throat was so sore and sandpaper-dry. I was practically in tears from the pain. And Brian's snoring was working my last damn nerve. I slipped out of bed, headed down to the kitchen, and ate a few spoonfuls of applesauce, to coat my empty stomach a little bit. Then I took 2 extra-strength Tylenol, some Sudafed, and guaifenisin, which is an expectorant.

By this time, I was wide awake. I considered trying to stay awake until it was time to get ready for work, but knew that probably wasn't a good idea--I'd hit a major 3 p.m. slump if I tried it. So I got settled under a blanket on the sofa in our living room and turned on the TV. Wound up watching the Olympic men's figure skating event until close to 5 a.m. Finally, I felt tired enough to try to sleep again.

The next thing I knew, it was 6:45 and Brian was standing over me, tapping me and telling me to get up (note to potential future second husbands, i.e., Joaquin: NEVER tap me. Especially not on the head, and especially not when I'm sound asleep. You might end up with your ass in a sling.).

After a lovely, long, steaming hot shower (undoubtedly the best part of my day), I was putting in my contact lenses and the right lens ripped almost in half on my fingertip. Since I only had one pair of lenses, I had no choice but to wear my glasses. I HATE MY GLASSES.

Brian and I carpooled to work today, and on the ride, I discovered that I had lost my voice. Which didn't bother me much, since I can barely conduct any meaningful or enjoyable conversations before 10 a.m.

As I was working at my desk, I felt my nose begin to run. Annoyed, I grabbed a tissue and wiped it, and was horrified when I saw what appeared to be about a pint of bright red blood on the tissue. I never, ever get nosebleeds. Ever. But since this morning, I've had three episodes of profuse bleeding.

And finally, since the barometer is currently hovering just over 30 inches, I have a screaming sinus headache. More of a face-ache, really...it feels like someone in five-inch spiked heels is standing on my face, right over my cheekbones, and occasionally shifting to my browbones.

So, as you can see, I'm batting a thousand today.

I'm so pissed. Another weekend down the drain. I had a lot of stuff on the roster, too. Bummer.

Hope your Friday's better than mine.

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Posted by Lori at 2/17/2006 03:20:00 PM |
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Someone I work with reminded me today that I'm an introvert.

In real life, despite often appearing vivacious and chatty, it takes a lot of energy and effort for me to interact with others. I am not naturally outgoing, although I think I'm generally likeable and fun. But I need a lot of "alone" time to re-energize and feel truly content. And I spend a lot of time up in my own head.

The results of the Myers-Briggs test I took a few years ago indicate that my type is INTJ: Introverted, iNtuitive, Thinking, Judging.

Apparently, less than 1% of the general American population is INTJ (well, I always suspected that I was unusual. So now it appears that I have my proof!).

I Googled "INTJ" and found several websites that provided very in-depth analyses of the INTJ personality. Here are a few excerpts (probably of interest to absolutely no one reading this except me, haha):

"Introversion does not mean shy or antisocial. It refers to how a person revitalizes himself. MBTI introverts are people who need to be by themselves to recharge their energy and feel their best. Though some introverts are truly shy and stay away from social gatherings whenever they can, others develop coping techniques like stepping out for about 15 minutes to be alone, and things like that.

To outsiders, INTJs may appear to project an aura of definiteness or self-confidence. This self-confidence, sometimes mistaken for simple arrogance, is actually of a very specific rather than a general nature. Its source lies in the specialized knowledge systems that most INTJs start building at an early age. When it comes to their own areas of expertise--and INTJs can have several--they will be able to tell you almost immediately whether or not they can help you, and if so, how. INTJs know what they know, and perhaps more importantly, they know what they DON'T know.

As children, INTJs are often inwardly focused on their thoughts of the way the world is or ought to be; they enjoy daydreaming. They can be quite stubborn when information relayed to them by authorities, such as parents and teachers, contradicts what they believe. They are sure of their own belief system. Often, in high school, INTJs can be underachievers who score well on formal tests, but are unstimulated by the details of day-to-day classroom learning.

INTJs are perfectionists, with a seemingly endless capacity for improving upon anything that takes their interest. What prevents them from becoming chronically bogged down in this pursuit of perfection is the pragmatism so characteristic of the type: INTJs apply (often ruthlessly) the criterion "Does it work?" to everything from their own research efforts to the prevailing social norms. INTJs live in the world of ideas and strategic planning.

They value intelligence, knowledge, and competence, and typically have high standards in these regards, which they continuously strive to fulfill. To a somewhat lesser extent, they have similar expectations of others. Anyone considered to be "slacking," including superiors, will lose the INTJ’s respect -- and will generally be made aware of this. INTJs have also been known to take it upon themselves to implement critical decisions without consulting their supervisors or co-workers.

INTJs are natural leaders, although they usually choose to remain in the background until they see a real need to take over the lead. When they are in leadership roles, they are quite effective, because they are able to objectively see the reality of a situation, and are adaptable enough to change things which aren't working well. They are supreme strategists.

When under a great deal of stress, the INTJ may become obsessed with mindless, repetitive, sensate activities, such as over-drinking. They may also tend to become absorbed with minutiae and details that they would not normally consider important to their overall goal.

Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ's Achilles heel. While they are capable of caring deeply for others (usually a select few), and are willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship, the knowledge and self-confidence that make them so successful in other areas can suddenly abandon or mislead them in interpersonal situations. To complicate matters, INTJs are usually extremely private people, and can often be naturally impassive as well, which makes them easy to misread and misunderstand.

As mates, INTJs want harmony and order in the home and in relationships. They are the most independent of all types. They will trust their intuition about others when making choices of friends and mates, even in the face of contradictory evidence and pressures applied by others.

They do not enjoy physical contact except with a chosen few.

Statistically, there are more male INTJs than female. Not surprisingly, the INTJ female's independence, intellectual aloofness, and argumentative style may result in her feeling somewhat out of step with those attributes more traditionally associated with femininity. For an INTJ female to be true to herself may put her out of step with the mainstream.”

That just about hits the nail on the head for me. I usually don’t put too much faith in personality tests, but there are too many things that are dead-on about me here.

If you want to find out your type, you can take the free quiz at www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp.

Have fun!

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Posted by Lori at 2/16/2006 05:42:00 PM |
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
In honor of Valentine's Day (which I think is a ridiculous holiday, incidentally), I am going to post about something that's very close to my heart. Something I just adore, and can't get enough of.

That object of my affection, darling readers, is Kohls.

I love Kohls the way most of the women I've encountered out here in Blogger Land love Target. And from what I've read, that's a WHOLE lotta love.

I love most of their Croft & Barrow line for casual clothes. I love the fact that I can find cheap, comfy jeans that fit me really well (Levi's bootcut). I love their home decor department and usually have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, out of there. I love their jewelry department, which carries the cutest, cheapest earrings ever (I'm partial to the Apt. 9 brand, which is a cheaper version of Nine West). I'm even starting to love their new cosmetics department.

And, of course, I love the fact that there seems to be a sale there every other frickin' day. Which begs the question, if everything's always on sale...is it REALLY a sale? Or are the prices marked way up artificially, just to make it seem like a bargain when you get everything for 50% off the original price?

It doesn't matter, though. As soon as I wander through those double doors, all of my skepticism just fades away. My pupils dilate. My heart rate increases. I become deaf to any and all background noise. In fact, I may even begin to twitch, however imperceptibly. I enter the Kohls Zone. That means that even though I may have come to buy just a few things -- a couple of bras, a few pairs of socks, or a gift for a coworker's new baby -- I get to the register and wind up spending no less than $100.

I was not always a Kohls lover. Oh, no. In fact, until I got married, I hardly ever went to the place. I just wasn't into it, I guess. But after the wedding, and after moving to a semi-rural area where Kohls was the only retail store in close proximity to our house, I got hooked. Most of the time, I shop there by myself, like an addict who's trying desperately to conceal her dirty little habit. And when I've been a particularly bad girl there, I keep my gray bags of goodies buried in the backseat of my car, waiting until my husband is out before dragging them into the house and gloating over all the deals I've scored. Oh, the shame!

And this is one vice that I just don't think I'll be able to kick.

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Posted by Lori at 2/14/2006 04:22:00 PM |
Friday, February 10, 2006
I have to go off on a little rant here today.

I am so sick of product parties. Partylite Candles, Longaberger Basket, Tastefully Simple, Mary Kay, Tupperware, and Creative Memories, I'm looking at you!

I mean really. I have better things to do than sit around with a bunch of other women to ooh and ahh about hydrangea-scented tealight candles or pineapple habanero pretzel dip. Christ.

The only thing worse than the parties are the stupid people themselves who sell this shit. I say "stupid" because I don't really think they have a clear idea of what good salesmanship entails. It means that you shouldn't automatically hit up your friends and relatives. If you want to sell, then go out and hit the pavement. Actually WORK for your sales. But don't assume that just because we're related (or work together, in some cases) I will buy whatever crap you're shilling this week.

Let me give you an example of this stupidity.

I have an acquaintance who I really don't know that well. She lives in NY. I only see her a few times a year, and we don't ever talk on the phone.

On the afternoon of August 23, 2005, we moved into our new house.

The very next day at 1 p.m., she called me. Because we have never called each other just to chat, I assumed that she was either calling to tell me she's pregnant or that something terrible has happened. Not the case. She made small talk with me for about ten minutes, asking how our move went and how we liked the new house, then started in with the sales pitch:

Her: "So, I just recently began my own business, Partylite Candles. Have you ever heard of it?"

Me: "Uh, yeah..."

Her: "And I was wondering if you would be interested in hosting a party for me."

Me: (without a moment's hesitation) "No."

Her: "No?" (I think she was so shocked that someone actually shot her down that she didn't know what else to say)

Me: "No. First of all, we just literally moved into this house less than twenty-four hours ago. I'm not ready to entertain here. Second, even if the house were in order, I just don't believe in that stuff. I don't feel it's polite or appropriate to ask my friends and family to come to my house and buy something. It's against my principles. I also don't go to those parties, either. I know a million people who have them, and they don't even bother to invite me anymore, because they know I'm just not into it."

Her: (dead silence)

Me: "But good luck with it!"

Can you believe the fucking nerve? What kind of idiot calls someone that she rarely sees or speaks to in the first place, on the day after that person moves into a new house, just to ask if that person will hold a party for their dumb "business" (I use that term loosely here)?

Another example: yesterday I got a funny joke email from another friend. I replied to her email by asking how she's been.

Her response? "Busy. Are you interested in hosting a home party or catalog sale for Partylite?"

FUCK!!!!!

Finally, let's not forget that pesky former coworker of mine who sells Mary Kay. I worked with this woman over five years ago. I haven't seen her in person since my wedding in 2002. She doesn't send me any holiday cards, never even bothers to respond to invitations I have sent her for barbecues and other get-togethers, but still manages to try to convince me to buy Mary Kay from her. Fortunately, she doesn't know my new email address or my new home mailing address, but damned if she doesn't try to weasel it out of a mutual friend every other week. Despite the fact that, when we lived in our old house, I called to tell her specifically to stop wasting postage mailing me invitations to her Mary Kay "Beauty Night" every month. You think she would've taken the hint then.

These people need to get a fucking life. I have visions in my head of just totally freaking out on the next person who asks me to get involved with this shit. Kind of like Michael Douglas in Falling Down.

OK, rant over.

Happy Friday!

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Posted by Lori at 2/10/2006 02:38:00 PM |
Thursday, February 09, 2006
I love surprises -- getting them and giving them.

My mom and I usually take a trip together every year. It's pretty fun, a nice bonding experience, and we somehow manage not to kill each other by the end of our vacation. In 2003, we went to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. In 2004, we drove up to Niagara Falls and then on to Toronto. Last year, we didn't take a trip because of the time and expense constraints (mine) associated with moving into a new house.

Just a few weekends ago, while we were out shopping together, the topic of this year's potential trip came up in our conversation. We both agreed that we wanted to go somewhere...but couldn't really figure out where we wanted to go.

As we drove from place to place, discussing what we should do, Michael Buble's latest CD played in the background. I introduced my mom to his music a few months ago, and I'm almost sorry that I did. She is IN LOVE with this guy, who's my age, by the way. I mean, she behaves like a hormonal teenager in a Beatlemania-type induced trance whenever she talks about him. It's kind of creepy, actually.

But after thinking about it, I decided to surprise my mom last week. I was crawling the web and happened upon Michael Buble's website. Lo and behold, he is in the midst of touring right now. In fact, he's playing the Borgata Casino in Atlantic City in early March! I rushed over to Ticketmaster.com to see if I could score a couple tickets to his show...but it was sold out. In TWO DAYS. Amazing, considering he's not exactly mainstream. Bummer.

So I searched his name on Ticketmaster's general search. Turns out that the only concert not sold out is in April at the Turning Stone Casino near Syracuse, NY, which is about a four-hour drive from here. It's not my first pick for a vacation, but my mom's worth it, and I knew she would be totally psyched to go. So I took a chance and bought two tickets, plus went to the casino's website and booked a room for one night.

I could barely contain my excitement after my purchases. I called my parents' house to share the news, but she wasn't home from work yet. I waited in agony for her to call me back. Finally, my phone rang several hours later, and I set her up perfectly.

After making the normal small talk, I said, "So, you know how we were talking about what to do for our trip this year?"

She said, "Yeah..."

"I made an executive decision about it tonight," I said, hardly able to keep the glee out of my voice.

Her tone took on an alarmed edge. "WHAT?"

I said, "I booked a night at the Turning Stone Casino and Resort in upstate New York in April."

"You did WHAT?" Hoo boy. Now she was reeeeally upset. "Why the hell would I want to go there? Can you cancel the reservation?"

Clearing my throat, I said, "Well, I did book it for a reason. Do you know why I booked it?"

"No, I don't, and frankly, I'm pretty pissed that you..." she began.

I cut her right off before she went into full tirade mode. "BECAUSE WE'RE GOING TO SEE MICHAEL BUBLE IN CONCERT THERE!" I shrieked.

She gave me the EXACT reaction I'd hoped for. She began screaming and laughing. "Oh my God! You didn't! We're not! Oh, I can't believe it! I'm so excited! You're the best daughter ever!"

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Posted by Lori at 2/09/2006 04:54:00 PM |
From the latest issue of Vanity Fair (the Hollywood issue with naked ScarJo and Keira Knightly on the cover):



Me likey! Me likey!

Oh...was I supposed to write something coherent here?

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Posted by Lori at 2/09/2006 10:29:00 AM |
Monday, February 06, 2006
So I've been thinking about asking my ob/gyn about Yaz. It's a newly FDA-approved birth control pill, related to Yasmin (which I'm currently taking), but instead of having 21 days on/7 days off, it's 24 days on/4 days off.

This pill is supposed to drastically reduce the physical and emotional symptoms of PMS and PMDD, which sounds just fabulous to me. I'm tired of the bloating. A week ago, I felt yucky and exhausted and fat. I just wanted to eats heaps of mac-n-cheese (which I did -- OK, not HEAPS, but quite a bit more than I should have) and then retire to my bed for the remainder of the day.

Plus I had my annual review at work, during which time I burst into tears when I was reminded of a particularly bad time for me here back in August. Oh, yeah. You read that right: I cried at work in front of my boss. Yikes. Totally embarrassing. It felt almost as if I had no control over myself. I had to excuse myself to the ladies' room to pull myself together. Then I rejoined our meeting and promptly burst into tears again minutes later. I am most definitely NOT a crier, except for that last week of my cycle. Then I weep at the most pathetic things: roadkill, a clogged toilet, and that credit card commercial featuring the 100 Years song by Five for Fighting. Horrifying, isn't it?

Anyway, getting back to Yaz. I have my annual visit to the gyn in early April, so I guess I'll have a chance to talk about it then. I've done some online research and it sounds OK to me. But the name is so weird. Yaz. That was an alternative group back in the 80s, right? Like a Depeche Mode rip-off, I think.

But today is a new day. I'm on my new pill pack, and all is well in the world.

Hope you enjoyed the weekend!

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Posted by Lori at 2/06/2006 01:16:00 PM |

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