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As much as I bandy about lots of words inappropriately, including the word "bandy", I've surprised myself with how I don't use the word "obsessed". I'm clearly in denial because I have problems with The Truth and other bothersome details of life. But today, I present to you no less than three obsessions not named Isabelle that are currently making me a difficult person to converse with these days:
1. Inspector Lynley series by Elizabeth George - Yes, these are books. I'll give you a minute to take that in. I'm calling this an obsession by the mere fact that I've read 9 books of this mystery series in about a month and I DON'T WANT TO STOP. This is in spite of other facts, namely that I don't find Elizabeth George to be that terrific of a writer. But she's a pretty good plotter.
2. Meme Si (What You're Made Of) by Gregory LeMarchal and Nolwenn Leroy - This is a combo platter of English and French lyrics and weirdly enough, it's the English sung by Nolwenn that has me all obsessed with this song. The reason is that this French woman has no trace of an accent with her English. It fascinates me to an atmospheric level. Her voice comforts me greatly which makes me wonder if the whole Nolwenn Effect has any merit. This was a study that some supposed scientists did on how music can balance us and Nolwenn Leroy's voice was the tops in balancing old people and children. Oh hey, I'm just kidding. I don't put any stock in "scientists".
3. Tamara Taylor - Dear Jesus God, where has this woman been all my life? She's an actress on Bones and you'd think that it'd be impossible to see anyone else with the extremely gorgeous Emily Deschanel on the screen. BUT NO. I have to go there with the Cam character. Dear Jesus God, what a voice....and other things.
Enough bandying things about. I have books and tv and one single song to listen to.
Email is so mundane and routine these days. I do it at work, I do it at home, I do it... no, that's it. I hope I don't do it anywhere else. Anyways, I'm trying to say that it's not very exciting. In fact, I can only recall one time that I got hysterical over an email message. Michelle Marciniak (the original crush) wrote me personally for reasons I can not reveal and I literally ran around the office three times, sat down, read it again and ran around some more. Yes, it was that good.
You'll always be a Lady Vol, never an assistant coach.
Well today, I got the second email to ever make me hysterical with glee. Now, getting me hysterical may not sound like much of a challenge (just ask Cylinda), but, like I said, when it comes to email, it's rare and I must acknowledge the occasion.
This perfectly worded letter came from my French language idol, the one person in the world whose mastery of French I aspire to attain. I don't even know her, but I've read her writings for quite some time and I marvel at her ability to turn an already beautiful language into a literal work of art. So when she responded personally to something I wrote, I nearly fainted. For real, I almost passed out onto my keyboard.
Ridiculous? You be the judge. Her first sentence to me was: Ton message me va droit au coeur et je t'en remercie beaucoup. If you Babelfish that, you'll probably think that's corny and I need to have my head checked. But in French, it's simply elegant. Off to study more of her writings...
Okay, I'll go get my head examined, but only because I have a dent in the back and I think I lost some brain matter a little while ago.
I've been watching a lot of football this season. I don't think I've missed a single game shown on the broadcast networks. That means switching back and forth between the early games, sometimes doing that for the afternoon game(s) if there's more than one on and then watching the Sunday night and Monday night games. I don't watch college very much since...I have no idea why I don't. Hmmm... Ok, that's enough exploring.
I always watch the Falcons, cause duh, but if not, I tend to root against teams since I have so many I hate. I hate many more than I like. But I do like the Colts and if the Broncos are on, I'll root for them. Why? Cause I kind of, sort of have this funny positive emotion like feeling whenever I see Champ Bailey. He's always making the big plays (dreamy) and wears his uniform nice and neat which is otherwise ridiculous to say because I find football uniforms to be unflattering on everybody.
Uhh, wait, that's Champ? Have to say, more dreamy WITH the helmet.
Ok, nevermind, back to Isabelle.
She never needs a helmet.
Oh, and the crush. Last week, my affection for the crush was amped up to an almost annoying level (almost?) after she touched my arm for 3, maybe even 4, seconds and then smiled at me with all her charm and clear, sky blue eyes. Swoon.
aldfja kd8ix'
Ow, sorry, my head fell on the keyboard. Excuse me while I dislodge the J key from my eyebrow.
If the following is not part of my normal made-up reality:
(((Yen + THE CRUSH) * 1 hour) / week) - the rest of the world = X
...then X = ?
A. Unbearable Yen (Yes, I know: How will I be any different?)
B. Danger, Will Robinson!
C. (Even more) pity for Cylinda
D. Algebra sucks. Down with long division! Calculators rule! (No, they calculate. HAHAHA... hahaha... huhu... bleh. I thought it was funny.)
E. All of the above except D because I love algebra. I really do. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Of course, I admit to loving Celine so maybe my standards are not the same as your standards. Maybe...
Smiling is a nice thing to do...when it's appropriate. There are several situations (excluding the obvious) where it's highly inappropriate. I'm not talking about being creepy and looking at kids, but the kind where you get caught smiling at nothing. How do you explain a smile when you're by yourself? The person who catches you and sees your "special" face probably doesn't want to know the reason.
So it's best for all to ignore it. Unfortunately, I'm in a sharing mood right now because today, I've been looking extra special. I place the blame entirely on my CRUSH.
I saw her last night and lost all ability to speak. I just smiled and waved manically to her. I'm comforted by the fact that she did the exact same thing back to me. Of course, she was much more dignified with her hand-waving. And she's probably stopped smiling by now, but I haven't. Chairs, lights, carpetting...they're all at the other end of my specialness today.
I'm even smiling at myself in the mirror and that's especially embarassing when using the office bathroom. In fact, I've learned a lesson today: Women in high heels CAN be sneaky.
Even though my chances of marriage have dwindled down to an unspeakably low percentage rate, I'm still working on my quest for holy matrimony and happily for everyone involved (except possibly the ball and chain, but I can't be sure), it's going real well.
I've made it to step #5 and while THE CRUSH is not in the cheeriest of moods (she's signing the he's-totally-at-fault divorce papers tomorrow; I'll be there at the courthouse with balloons and an ice cream cone), she's ready to get away for a while and agreed to go on a roadtrip with me. Boo yeah! Oh wait, I have to practice my serious and concerned face; not the giddy, manic one. This is hard.
Subtle difference? Yes, but it's all in the context.
But anyways, we're headed to Massachusetts after she eats her ice cream. You know who else is just as excited for the upcoming nuptials? My iPod lover! It's coming along for the ride. My know-it-all little brother knew how to install a wired fm modulator since I don't have any auxiliary inputs for a mp3 player on my stereo. Now I can begin the brainwas...winning over her heart static-free BEFORE we get to the courthouse in Boston (or Provincetown if I get desperate for more "coaxing" help). Yeah, that's going to be a tricky step and/or manuever...
But no worries now. I must assemble a perfect playlist.
- Love the one you're with by CSN- oh yes, this will be the theme song
- Can't fight this feeling by REO Speedwagon - perhaps she will empathize and take ownership of the feeling Mr. Speedwagon is singing about
- Lost in your eyes by Debbie Gibson - oh how the romance oozes out of this song wow
That's enough. I'll put these awesome songs on shuffle and then repeat and I predict something EXCITING happens before we even hit the Mason-Dixon line.
So I've just been told that there's no hope for a woman to get married after she turns 30. Seeing as how this came from my partner, I'm a bit skeptical, but all the same, I feel a little pressure. Ok, I feel a great amount of pressure. I only have a few days left before my personal doomsday. But because I'm an enterprising sorta girl, I've hastily devised a plan that will hopefully make a honest woman out of me. If you see any flaws, kindly do not inform me since this plan is already in motion.
- Get the Ball & Chain (B&C) out of the picture. This is easy since I can't remember where I last put her.
- "Coincidentally" run across the current woman of my dreams, aka THE CRUSH, asap. This is also a snap since I know where she works...mwhahahaha.
- That sounded more creepy than I meant it to be. Was it the pleasant laugh at the end of the sentence?
- Convince her to divorce her husband. I have some ideas of how to do this, but I could use some help on this step.
- Convince her to take a "spontaneous" roadtrip with me to Massachusetts. I'm not settling for any civil union, you hear me, Vermont?
- Have her sign some legally binding documents as we "tour" a "courthouse". This will be easy since English is not her first language.
- Voila, THE CRUSH will become THE WIFE and I'll be married and speaking French in the same sentence, all before I'm 30.
- Wow, am I efficient or what?
Next up: a more challenging challenge: babies and how to beat that biological clock!