Random Rant on a Tuesday

It occurred to me that I haven't blogged in a while. How sad for the three people who read my blog. (Yes, I believe that was sarcasm, tinged with a little bit of bitterness.)

Seriously, though. It is HARD to think of things to blog about. And then, if I factor in what people may actually want to read about, it gets even harder.

So, I decided that I am going to take advantage of my blog (which I can do because it's mine, damn it) and use it for random stream of consciousness.

Warning 1: my consciousness is not a place you want to delve into unprepared. If you don't know me, the likelihood of becoming offended is pretty high.

Warning 2: Just ingested AlkaSeltzer cold medication. Little loopy.

So, here goes...

Stride gum.
Seriously? I bought it. I was sucked in by their amusing advertising campaign. Ridiculously long lasting flavor, my ass. I suppose if you are comparing it to the 3-second flavor of Dubble Bubble, the 4-second flavor of Wrigley's or the 6-second flavor of Trident, then yes, it is ridiculously long lasting at roughly 8 seconds. I still think the advertising is a little over the top.

The Seven Mile Bridge into Key West, Florida.
In case you've ever wondered (which, really, what sane person would?) it really is seven miles long. Down to the 1/10 of a mile, as best as my car could calculate. Thanks, Mom, for that little neurosis.

Grey's Anatomy
Has anyone else had quite enough of the Derek/Meredith "Poor me, my daddy didn't love me enough so I can't love the PERFECT, HOT BRAIN SURGEON WHO IS WAY TOO GOOD FOR ME?" As Chandler once said on Friends: "Oh no, two women love me. They're both gorgeous and sexy. My wallet's too small for my fifties AND MY DIAMOND SHOES ARE TOO TIGHT!"

There is a rumor that Denny will be back in a series of visions/flashbacks not previously seen. Wanna know why? Because the writers/producers/whoever is in charge of that crap knows what a grave (pun intended) mistake they made when they killed him off. Unfortunately the show does not air before 5:00PM, or they could easily bring him back from the dead without explanation.

Talking to Strangers
My parents spent an awful lot of time when I was younger teaching me not to talk to strangers. So why, in the name of God, am I expected to make small talk with strangers simply because we happen to be riding the same elevator, or seated next to each other on the same flight, or on the same line in the grocery store. I want it stopped!

Hi My Name is Nanci and I Recently Turned...30

I would like to apologize to all of those who believe that 30 is the new 20, that life can only really be appreciated after 30 and that 30 is not even in the vicinity of old, for what I am about to say.

30 is 30, will always be 30, and is absolutely, unmovingly 10 years far away from 20. I appreciated life just fine when I was 29, and every time I am forced to pronounce my age I visibly shudder because, let's face it, 30 is old.

Now that you know my stance on that, you have a decision to make.

Dare you keep reading?

I offer this warning to aid in your decision: you may very well encounter similar life stances, arbitrary theories, unyielding opinions and admittedly dumb comments should you choose to visit the world I inhabit. However, you may also find a refuge of empathy, humor, completely useless knowledge and random escape from your reality.

My reality goes a little bit like this:

I already gave you my age, and I flat out refuse to give it ever again.

I live in Coconut Creek, Florida, with my husband Tim, our 2 cats Hades and Azrael, my hedgehog Styx and Tim's ball python Hydra.

I grew up in East Fishkill, NY (upstate to everyone south of Westchester) and my entire immediate family and my oldest and dearest friend Liz are still there. Since I also spent time living in Boston, Pittsburgh, and Buffalo, I learned to despise the cold. Florida will work for me for quite a while, thanks. Luckily Tim feels the same way. He grew up on Long Island which leads him to belive he is cooler than me. (Among many other reasons) He loves to snowboard but shares my distaste for the cold, gray weather of northern winters. He has recently discovered skim boarding, which in my opinion is snowboarding on sand, so he's all good.

My husband is my best friend in the entire world, and there is nothing I would rather do than spend time with him. Since it would be unhealthy (and the married version of SWF) to do that all the time, I have plenty of other things to amuse myself.

I love to read, and I love to sleep. I spend a lot of time and attention on what will allegedly one day be my first novel. I make the valiant attempt to work out several times a week, since I have an unnatural anxiety regarding gaining weight. I have a deep affection for hanging out with my pets, I don't think I could get through a day without talking to Liz at least once, and in the free time I have left I run a freelance business catering to the random whims of Realtors. My temporary passion is perusing and organizing my wedding pictures, but I have a feeling their novelty will wear of just as soon as the novelty of being married does.

I go to work every day, although believe me this is not by choice. Until I work out how to colonize my own island, rule my own planet, or profit from writing or sleeping, I will continue to work full time as a Project Manager for a fairly large marketing company. It's the closest thing to the perfect job I am ever going to get. It's all about organization, planning, and problem solving. What could be better for a Type A, hyper-organized, slightly OCD newlywed? (It's a little bit quirky that I am by turns also extremely lazy. Plague of the Gemini, I suppose.)
I finally quit smoking after 11 years, but I can't seem to kick my addiction to Starbucks. Or Target, for that matter. Willpower is fickle.

That's the nutshell version. You'll get to know me a lot better if you (and I) keep up with The Pickle Tree. To tide you over until I post again (because I know you are salivating with anticipation) here's a weird fact about me: Every time I walk up or down a foreign flight of stairs I count them. Bizarre. If you feel like commenting, you could also provide a weird fact about yourself. Just a suggestion.

Tune in next time for "The History of the Pickle Tree"