I am such a sap....P.S. I forgot something

I have come to the conclusion that I am a big old sap. Case in point, I was watching "Greensburg" on Planet Green. This is the documentary about the town of Greensburg, Kansas which was hit by an F5 tornado over a year ago. The town was destroyed and during the rebuilding process, the town decided to "go green." Anyhow, the episode tonight chronicled the town getting ready for Christmas. Another town in Kansas donated Christmas Tree's for the people of the town. There was a big event where the people in Greensburg could go and get lights and ornaments for their Christmas trees because those things were lost during the tornado. I was sitting there watching it and I started to get all choked up. It is official. I am a big sap. Just wanted to let you all know that, now back to your regularly scheduled program. Until next time, Diva Divine

P.S. I forgot to send a shout out to my friend, Princess Kerrie, today is her birthday! Happy Birthday Princess!! Enjoy your rhinestone encrusted sash :) Be sure to wear it with your crown and wand!!!

I was running.....now I think I am going to crawl in bed and die

I ran today in the 5K I told you about earlier in the week. Let's just say, I forgot the area where I grew up is hilly. Yes, hills are not my friend. I usually run on flat courses so I was ill prepared for the course I set out on today. Chalk it up to being naive. I think it is all part of the learning curve.

I probably should have said I was walking in the race today because the runners in the race today were all seasoned, hardcore runners. I was seriously out of my league. I didn't really figure that out until I had already started running. I knew most of the people were seasoned runners, I just didn't realize nearly all of them Olympic worthy competitors. I was just a "runner" wanna-be. I kept telling myself "I can do this, I have trained for this." That worked for about the first half mile. Then, I realized I was at the back of the runner pack. Nothing like running by yourself. I just kept running because I wasn't going to give up. I just felt like an idiot because I was like the last runner.

I ran the entire first mile, which was huge for me because I have had so much trouble running outside for an entire mile. The end of the first mile was at the bottom of this big hill. The only bad thing about big hills, is you have to run back up them again. That nearly killed me. I was breathing so hard. Every piece of my body hurt. My muscles said "quit doing this" but I refused. I ran up the hill and walked a few steps, then I started running again. I probably ran another block and I had to start walking. If I didn't walk, I probably would have collapsed. I think I had finished the first mile rather quickly, which was why I was so out of breath. I hadn't paced myself, which is always my downfall.

I walked and ran the second mile. I was feeling really defeated because I was all by myself out there on the course. Occasionally, I would catch a glimpse of someone far ahead of me, but I was all by myself for the most part. I knew there were a few people behind me, but I didn't know where they were and I wasn't about to try and find out. I just kept going, thinking "I am going to look like the biggest idiot when I cross the finish line dead last. They will probably send the straggler bus out to find me."

I finally got to the end of the second mile and I thought "I can do this. It's only one more mile." Oh, if I only knew how hard that last mile was going to be. It was hilly and it was long and I wanted to die. I kept thinking "This has to be over soon." Then, my Mom comes driving by me. I wanted to kill her. Seriously, that is worse than the straggler bus. That's like "I am a big loser and my Mom has to come and get me in her SUV." I told her to go back to the finish line. I just wanted her to leave me alone because I was so mad at myself for thinking I could even compete with real runners. I needed to be mad at myself and having your Mom there trying to be your cheerleader doesn't really help. She told me not many people had crossed the finish line...yeah, whatever, Mom. I know she was trying to be supportive, but it made me feel even worse. I told her there weren't any people behind me. She said "there are plenty of people behind you." Yeah Mom, those would be the walkers who started 10 minutes after the runners.

Finally, I got to the last quarter mile. I could see the finish line. The course went downhill and then back up. I wanted to just lie down in the street and cry. I didn't think there was any way possible I could make it back up that hill. I refused to quit when I was this close. I refused to walk. I wasn't going to give up, but I was so tired. I don't know where my strength to keep running was coming from, I don't know how I made it up that hill because I really thought I was going to collapse. I got up that hill and I hurled my body through the finish line.

I finished in just over 38 minutes. The time was not exact because this event wasn't chipped, so everyone had the same start time, no matter when they crossed the start line. I was upset that I had fallen under my time from the Mini. I should have been able to finish more quickly, I had run the entire first mile and probably ran more of the course than I did in the Mini. But, maybe not? I think the Mini was easier because there were so many more people. I was never alone. I had people around to keep me going. I had motivation. In this race, I was on my own. I think I need that motivation, even though I am not really into competing with other people, just having someone else around is comforting.

I finished 4th in my age group. I guess that isn't too bad. There were a few people behind me who were in my age group, too. However, the lady who placed first overall in the walk had a time just a minute under mine. It was very close to my time in the Mini. Had I done the walk, I would have finished second overall and second in my age group. Oh well, we live and we learn.

I am still a little disappointed in myself. I should have been a little more consistent with my pacing. I am proud I did run the entire first mile. But, I let my own self doubt get in my way. I have to keep working. Now, I think I am going to crawl into bed and die because I am in pain. Hills aren't your friend and they tend to make your body hurt, a lot. So, off to bed I go. Until next time, Diva Divine

What part of "I Don't See Any Others" did you not understand?

The Evil Titmus Machine!!!
I took a part time job answering phones at a local nursing home. I did it because, yeah, you guessed it, I am crazy. Actually, the nursing home is run by the company my Mom works for and originally, it was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but has now gone into more. I am going to try to keep doing it as long as my other job allows, because the extra money is good and it keeps me out of the house.

I had to go today for my physical. Okay, let me tell you this was the most complete physical exam I had ever had in my life. They checked just about every part of my body. They gave me an eye test and let's just say, I didn't do so well. I wear contacts and my prescription hasn't changed in several years. However, you would have thought I was blind. I had to stick my head into one of those goofy machines like they have at the BMV. Yeah, the one that you press your forehead up against and little bar and it makes the machine go on. It is also the one that messes up your makeup and is caked in forehead grease. Oh, yeah! You know what I am talking about.

Anyhow, I had to take this test and I had trouble reading the stupid thing. This test machine is called the Titmus. Remember that name because Titmus = Diva Fails eye test. It wasn't asking you to tell letters, but it made you tell which circles weren't complete. I swear, they all looked complete to me. That thing was messed up. "Toe Up From the Flo Up!" "Janky Ghetto!" "Triflin'". You get my drift. The girl finally figures out that I can't read the stupid thing and lets me go and read the regular eye chart. I pass with flying colors.

However, she makes me go back and use that stupid machine again to check my depth perception. I guess she didn't understand that the first time I tried to use the machine I failed miserably. She just wants to punish me again. This is not fair. She is trying to torture me. I should have cried "abuse" or something like that. Honestly, I think she just wanted to see me look like a dufus so she could write it in her chart. This is where things get scary. I was supposed to tell the girl which "targets" on the machine were jumping out at me. I told her "Just numbers one and two." She told me to look again. I said "There are only two." Wrong. Obviously, I didn't give her the correct answer. So she says, "LOOK AGAIN!" Okay, what part of "I don't see any others" did you not understand? So, she pulls out these fabu sci-fi looking horn rim glasses and tells me to put them on. I know I looked hot. Don't be jealous because I got to wear the fabu glasses and you didn't. Those are obviously reserved for the dufus girls who can't pass the depth perception portion of the test. This was not a special honor. They probably have me on hidden camera and will sell the photos on eBay. I can already tell, this is not going to be fun. She hands me this little card with a piece of yellow yarn attached. She makes me measure the correct distance for the placement of card using the yellow yarn. She says "Tell me which picture in each row pops out to you." Okay, I can only see things popping off at me in three rows, none of the other six rows are popping out at me. I tell her my answer. This is not the answer she wants. She says to look again. Okay, Shalonda (that was her name), I told you I only see three and after that, there is nothing popping out at me in any of the other rows. Either I am blind or your groovy glasses are busted. I have baffled Shalonda and she says "Well, I guess that is good enough." Then she takes my groovy glasses back an writes on her chart that I am too stupid to find the things that should pop out at me on the eye test.

I finish up the testing with being asked to pee on command. I told Shalonda I had just taken a drug screening at the facility and I didn't know if I could pee again. She said "Try. Or we can do it later." Okay Shalonda, you aren't letting me get out of this. She wants to check my "sugars". Whatever, Shalonda, sugar. I finally manage to squeeze out some pee, enough for Shalonda to test my "sugars" and she takes me to the exam room. She tells me to get undressed except for my bra, underwear and socks, and put on the nice little gown. I love this part of the exam. Nothing like feeling like you are exposed to the whole world.

So, the Nurse Practitioner comes in and says "Well, I see you had some trouble with the depth perception test. Do you notice when you park your car, you are miles from the curb?" Okay, Nurse Practitioner Lady, whose name I can't remember, I don't need your lip. The reason I am miles from the curb is because I suck at parallel parking because when I took Drivers Training, I had an instructor who was an idiot. He taught me nothing and then had the gall to give me a no waiver because he said I was not comfortable behind the wheel because I didn't have enough experience driving. Duh!! I was 15 and a half. How much driving experience should I have? No license = No experience driving. That was the whole point of taking Drivers Training!!! Unlike many other parents, my Mom felt it wasn't in my best interest to get behind the wheel of a 3,000 pound machine and drive. She wouldn't even let me drive the riding lawn mower. She was afraid her little girl would get hurt and because of this, I led a very sheltered life. I could expound upon this all day, but I will digress no longer. I guess I can no longer blame my driving instructor for my complete and total lack of being able to parallel park. I can blame it on my lack of depth perception. Many apologies to you Mr. Simpson (not OJ, not Bart, nor Homer...in fact, I can't remember his name...now that will drive me nuts all night). I am sorry I blamed you for my lack of parallel parking experience.

So, it was official, I had failed the depth perception portion of my physical. I feel like a moron. At least I passed the rest. I can answer the phones at the old folks home. I probably have the same depth perception as the people living at the nursing home. I will fit in perfectly. It all works out for the best. I haven't been running into walls or anything, but just give it time. Although, I have several bruises I can't explain. Perhaps those are from my problem with depth perception. I don't know and I really don't want to find out. So, I guess I need to go back to the eye doctor and get all of this checked out. I will keep you updated. Until next time, Diva Divine

You only want me to be your boyfriend because I am cute...the wisdom of a 5 year old

My friend's little boy is adorable. His name is Elijah and he is five. He has been my "boyfriend" since he was born. I always knew I had a man to fall back on if I needed one, because Elijah had pledged his love to me. Although, it seems now that he has pledged his love to many girls. In fact he told me "I have 586,479 million,8 bijillion girlfriends." I love his number.

I saw Mr. Elijah at graduation last month and he was scoping out all the girls. He told me the three girls sitting in front of me were his girlfriends, and Sarah, his neighbor, was his girlfriend, too. I asked him if I was still his girlfriend and he said "No." Huh? Did I hear you correctly? No? I asked him why I wasn't his girlfriend anymore. He said "Because you are a Mom." I told him "I'm not a Mom." Then he said these dreaded words "You're too old." Oh, I wanted to cry. I am now considered old and I was jilted by my man. Things were not going good.

So, I saw Elijah during Festivus. I asked him if I could be his girlfriend again. This time, his mom was standing there. He said "No, because you are a Mom." Okay, at least his story is consistant. His mom says to him "Elijah, she is not a Mom." Then, he looks at me and says "You only want me to be your boyfriend because..." I could see the wheels in his mind turning,trying to come up with an answer. I looked at him and said "Because you are cute?" He says proudly back "Yeah, you only want me to be your boyfriend because I am cute." It was priceless. I told him he was really cute and that was why I wanted to be his girlfriend. He told me he would be my boyfriend for Festival and then I would be on my own again. At least I had a man for three days.

I am hoping Elijah will reconsider and make me his girlfriend long term. Seriously, the kid is adorable and so easy going. Not to mention he has a great sense of humor. Too bad I am about 28 years older than him because he is quite the catch. Too bad I can't find a nice man my age like Elijah. So, I am going to be looking for a man like Elijah, just a little older. If you know any men like that, send them my way. Until next time, Diva Divine

I did it because I am crazy...

I have been very tired since my 11 mile walk on Saturday. I didn't get home until almost 2 a.m. Sunday morning, so I was worn out. I had to drag my butt out of bed yesterday at 11:45, just because I felt so guilty about sleeping so late. I ended up falling asleep on the couch for at least an hour later in the afternoon. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I had to peel my butt off the couch and shower so I could make it to 6:00 Mass last night. I got home from Mass and fell asleep on the couch again! Then, of course, I couldn't get to sleep last night to save my soul. I hate when that happens, because it messes up my sleep schedule so much.

I made myself get up this morning at 6:30. Even though I had only gotten about 2 and a half hours of sleep. I watched some news, loaded the dishwasher, and messed around on the computer. I thought I would take a little nap and then get up and go to the gym. I did fall asleep for a little while, but my Mom called and I had to get up. I guess it was for the best because otherwise, I would have slept all day and been in the same boat I was in last night.

I have to sing at a carshow Saturday and I vaguely remembered there being a 5K run/walk early in the morning before the event. I asked my Mom if I was dreaming that up or if I actually did know what I was talking about. She said there was a run that morning and somehow, she talked me into entering. I swear, I only did it because I am crazy. (and she said she would pay my entry fee...hey, I'm poor and if she wants to pay the $10.00 fee so she can see me run, I'll let her.)

I decided I better go to the gym and get some training in this week. I really would like to run the entire course. I decided I would make myself run for 30 minutes straight. I did it, actually, I ran for 35 minutes, but when I run on the treadmill, I run slower than I do outside, but I will run the entire time. For some reason, when I get outside, even though I run faster, I feel like I can't run the whole time and I end up walking some. It makes me feel like a big dork because I can do it, but just because I don't have the treadmill keeping me at a constant pace, I doubt myself. I ran today for 35 minutes because I am crazy. I was a hot sweaty mess. I know all the people at the gym thought I was beautiful and they all want to be like me. Hahahaha! I am sure they would like to look exactly the opposite of me.

So, this week I will be training for the run this weekend. I am only doing this because I am crazy. Just remember that, I am crazy. Until next time, Diva Divine

11 Miles of Hope

I had the privilege of participating in Relay for Life yesterday. I say it is a privilege because I was able to walk in honor of the 44 people I had listed on the sign on my back. Many of those names, were sent to me by my friends, and others were people I have known personally. I have been asked by many people "why do you go back and walk in Relay?" Well, I haven't really been able to explain why I go back and walk, but after hearing the co-chair speak at the Luminaria ceremony, I don't think I could put it into words any better:

"You come today in HOPE. That is what Relay is all about. Hope. Hope that one day your children or your children's children never have to hear the words "You have cancer." It is the hope you feel when you walk on the track. It's the hope you feel when you see the cancer survivors in the opening ceremony. For the person just diagnosed with cancer, it is the hope they find when they meet a survivor who was diagnosed with the same cancer. That is hope. For the caregivers, it is talking with other caregivers who have been in the same situation. That is hope. There is hope in celebrating those survivors who come back year after year. There is even hope in recognizing those who have lost their battle with cancer, because there is hope that through events like Relay we will raise the money which will find a cure, so other people will never have to lose their battle. We walk with hope that one day, because of what we do today, we will have no need for Relay for Life because we have a cure for this disease. That is Hope."

It was amazing, to say the least. I am sure the speaker said a few more wonderful things, but right now, I can't remember all of them. I do know that I was filled with Hope and I am still filled with Hope. I have the hope that each year when I compile, my list of people to walk for, the survivor list is longer than those who have lost their battle. I find hope in the amount of money donated to the team I participated on. That team alone brought in over $16,000...yes, that is over sixteen thousand dollars. There is hope that those dollars put us a step closer to a cure.

I walked 11 miles yesterday. That is 44 laps around the track. That is one lap for each person on my list. That is not something I did on purpose, it just ended up working out that way. One lap to celebrate each person, one lap to remember those we've lost, one lap closer to a cure. At the end of the day, even though I was sunburned (even though I kept applying sunscreen) and I had a few little blisters, even though I was a smelly, sweaty mess, I had hope. Sometimes, hope is all we have to hang on to, and sometimes hope just has to be enough. Remember, there is HOPE! Until next time, Diva Divine

I won't have to start dancing....at least I don't think I will

Good news people!! I got a new job today. I had an interview last Friday with the large non-profit I had interviewed with before. This time, it was for a different position. I wasn't sure how the interview had gone because I am really bad at reading those situations. I did feel a little better because I didn't have to wear my suit. Since I had interviewed on Friday, and everyone in the office was dressed down, the person who interviewed me said there was no reason to be so dressed up. I took my own bottle of water into the interview as well. I did consider adding a little vodka, but I didn't think that would have been a good idea. I was the last person to be interviewed, which I think could have helped me. I made sure to send my thank you email as soon as I got home, too. I wanted to leave a good impression as they went in to make their decision. I knew they were deciding who to hire that day, so I wanted to keep my name fresh in their minds. I guess it must have worked because they called me today and offered me the position. Woo hoo, go Diva!

I start my new job July 10th. This means I won't have to start dancing at Leggs Dungeon Lounge or Babes. At least I don't think I will have to start dancing. I really hope I don't have to start dancing. I don't think anyone would want to see me dance and I doubt they would pay me either. I would be a failure as an exotic dancer. It's probably best that way because I doubt any non-profit would want me to work for them if I had been an exotic dancer. Yeah, I better stay away from the dance floor. Until next time, Diva Divine

Almost losing my pants....stanky, stanky, stanky

I went to the gym this morning to run. I have been working on "sprints" the past week or so, because it has helped me to improve my running times and my speed. So, this morning, I was on the treadmill for my warm up when I realize I wore the wrong underwear. Okay, I know that sounds crazy, but there are certain underwear I can't wear when I am running because they ride up. Part of the problem is that most of my underwear are too big and therefore, they don't fit properly. I am too cheap to replace all my underwear, so I've been doing that little by little, however, I have to wear some that don't fit perfectly. I try to wear the underwear that fit when I go out to do things. So, I usually end up wearing the ill-fitting underwear when I go to the gym or when I am just at home.

After I finished my five minute warm-up, I went back to stretch out. I was able to fix my underwear when I was stretching because no one was back in the stretching area. I thought I had fixed the problem. I thought wrong. I got back on the treadmill and started walking. I was okay for about the first minute, then I had to pull up my pants because, like my underwear, they are too big and I am too cheap to buy new ones. When I pulled up my pants, I messed up my underwear. It was just as bad as it had been during my warm-up.

Since I refuse to stop and fix my underwear and my pants, I switch the treadmill to my sprinting speed and try to not think about the big wedgie I have up my butt. I will be the first to tell you, it's not fun running with a big wedgie. What makes things worse, suddenly, my pants feel like they are slipping down my hips. But I don't stop running because I am too stubborn. I don't want people in the gym to think I can't handle running and that I need to stop and catch my breath. I kept running and hoping I didn't lose my pants.

I ran for three minutes and then switched back to my walking speed. I tried to fix my pants. I knew fixing my underwear was futile. There were people on the machines behind me, one being the operator of the gym. I tried to retie my pants when I was walking, but I didn't do such a good job because when I started running again, they started slipping down my hips once more. I was screwed. Unless I stopped and went to the bathroom, I was going to have to deal with my big wedgie and try to keep my pants from falling down.

I kept running and walking, pulling my pants up when they would start to fall down. It's a wonder I didn't trip and kill myself when I was trying to tie my pants and run at the same time. I am sure it was quite entertaining for all those who were watching. Glad I could be the mornings entertainment for everyone at the gym.

My pants didn't fall down after my 25 minutes of running and walking. I did still have a big wedgie, which is a pain in the butt, pardon the pun. I couldn't fix my underwear until I got out to the car. I had to be all nonchalant and act like I was just trying to adjust my pants. I don't think I was able to fool anyone. They knew I was picking my wedgie.

I had to stop at the grocery store on my way home because I had nothing to eat for breakfast. I hate going to the grocery store after I have been to the gym because I smell so bad and I am usually dripping with sweat. This morning was no different. I just had to run in and get some cereal and milk. I could smell the stench coming off my body and it was making me sick. If I could tell I smelled this bad, I knew everyone else would be able to smell me too. I was stanky, stanky, stanky.

I managed to get out of the store and home without knocking anyone over with my stanky body odor. I swear, when I took off my clothes to take a shower, the things could have walked away on their own. That's how smelly they were. They were FOUL!!

Tomorrow I will go back to the gym and hope I don't get some big wedgie or lose my pants when I am running. I don't want to put on a show for all the patrons at the gym. As for being stanky, I can't really help that. I get stanky when I run because I am a big sweaty mess. I think I have had my gym pants for so long the stank will not wash out of them, no matter what I use to clean them. I think it is time to get new pants and of course new underwear, but I am really not financially able to do that right now, so I will have to make things work for the time being. I will just have to have wedgies and stanky pants that almost fall down. Until next time, Diva Divine

You've got to be kidding me?

I get some strange spam emails, which I think is the case for all of us. I get the typical ones for Viagra and various other prescription meds online. You know what I'm talking about "500 Viagra for $19.95." "Herbal Male Enhancement Drugs... Cheap!" Yes, I love those. Of course I think I get nearly as many emails telling me I have won a $1000 gift card to Costco, JCPenney, Wal-Mart, Target....you name the store, I have gotten the email. Then, you get the email about Gevalia Coffee and their wonderful offers for a free coffee maker, coffee and stainless steel travel mug. Seriously, do they pay people to send out this spam? If they are paying people to do this, I want to sign up for that job because I could seriously do, and do it well.

I've been getting this new email from "My friends from the Video Shoot Last Weekend." What video shoot and which friends? Because I don't remember any video shoot and if I were there, I should at least be able to remember it. Did I have fun? Who comes up with this stuff?

I am still working on the whole figuring out what I want to be when I grow up. I am still really considering the gig as Minnie Mouse. I think that would be phat! I have an interview tomorrow for a part time receptionist job. I need to get something soon because I am going to be in the poor house soon. I also had an interview last Friday, but I don't know how it went, I am not good at reading those situations. I am still waiting to hear back from Starbucks....those corporate asshats won't call me back, even though I have applied twice. You have got to be kidding me, a person applies twice and you don't have the decency to call me back? I know I have a college degree. I know I almost have a Masters Degree, but I don't think I am too good to sell coffee. If I thought that, I wouldn't have applied. So, I think it is time to boycott Starbucks. If they can't call me back, then they don't get my money. Like my boycotting of Starbucks is really going to hurt the corporate coffee giant, but if it makes me feel better, that's all that matters.

I think I may be forced to start selling my body. Yep, I might have to change my name to Trixie Divine and start dancing at Leggs Dungeon Lounge or Babes. I don't know how that will go over. From teacher to exotic dancer. That sounds like a Lifetime Movie of the Week or at least the lead story in the National Enquirer or OK! Magazine. I could write my memoirs detailing my career change and how I was driven to dancing because Starbucks wouldn't hire me. Then, I could tell how I had to go to rehab to quit dancing and get over my addiction to diet pepsi and Cosmo and Glamour. It would be a very trying time, but I would prevail. Then, I would score a part in a weekly sitcom and get a record deal, or something like that. Yeah, I am off my rocker and yes, I need to get out of the house. I am going to find something to do. Until next time, Diva Divine

Cowboy Bob and the Freak Show I Call My Life...

I have a new neighbor. I was elated last week when my downstairs neighbor, Miss Meanie Pants, moved. She didn't like me. It seems that the guy who lived with her, I guess you would call him her "boo" or friend with benefits, liked me. The feeling was not mutual. He was nasty!! He didn't get the hint when I blew him off several times. Then, he started stalking me and I had to go to the leasing company and throw a big old hissy fit. He kind of backed off. Then, he disappeared. I thought I was done with him. Then, he reappeared and disappeared several times. Then, one day in March the police came looking for him and he never reappeared. All they did was fight and I could hear it all. She also had a yappy dog she left in the bathroom when she was gone. I would have to hear it whine all the time and that got old. Anyhow, Miss Meanie Pants moved out, the apartment next to her's was empty and the only people left in the building were me and Pothead Pete next door. I don't really like Pothead Pete, but at least he is quiet. I just try not to inhale when I leave the building. I like to avoid that contact high if at all possible.

So, back to the new neighbor. Someone moved in to the apartment next to Miss Meanie Pants. I refer to him as Cowboy Bob. I don't think he is a cowboy, but he leaves boots outside his door covered with mud or stuff....I don't want to get too close...you know how I am about smells. Cowboy Bob drives a big old extended cab diesel pick-up truck with a tool chest on the back from Tractor Supply Company. I think calling him Cowboy Bob is justifiable. I don't care about Bob leaving his boots in the common hallway, even though such stuff is strictly verboten in our lease and "Good Neighbor Policy". As long as Bob doesn't narc me out for putting my trash out in the hallway at night because it is too late to walk to the dumpster, I can overlook his boots.

For the most part, Bob has been a good neighbor for the week or so he has been here. I haven't felt the need to go to the leasing company and demand they tell him to be quiet, have them kick out some loitering stalker, or rat him out for smoking so much pot that when I walked out of my apartment, I felt a sudden craving for Cheetos and Mountain Dew from the contact high. I thought Bob might work out alright here in the building. Then, last night, Bob ruined it all!

I was sitting here in my apartment watching yet another episode of Forensic Files. I could hear people talking, but I thought it might be Pothead Pete's television. Sometimes when he is hitting the wacky weed a little too hard, he turns up the volume on his big screen television with the surround sound a little too loud. After trying to ignore it, I finally got up and realized it was coming from outside. Oh great, it's the crazy people in the next building who let their children and animals run wild at all hours of the day. I turned up the volume and tried to block them out.

Finally, when they didn't stop once it had gotten dark, I got up and looked out the sliding glass door. It wasn't the crazy people from the next building, it was Cowboy Bob and his posse of cowpoke friends sitting on his patio. Ok, it is obvious Bob neglected to read the "Good Neighbor Policy" because it strictly states "You cannot sit out on your patio or balcony at all hours of the night, whooping it up with your cowpoke friends, making it impossible for the other people living around you to enjoy a good episode of Forensic Files or Dr. G. Medical Examiner."

Bob and his cowpoke buddies, sat out there until well after midnight, making noise. This didn't go over well with me. I couldn't watch television without hearing them and when I couldn't sleep, I came out to the couch, but I could still hear them!!! It was annoying and inconsiderate to say the least. I didn't want to go down there and go all Diva on Bob and the Cowpokes. I was not looking too hot and I figured this was Bob's "house-warming" patio party. They didn't need to see me looking like a hot mess. I decided to let Bob slide this time. He should consider himself touched by an angel. However, now the gloves are off. If Bob gets loud again, gauntlets will be thrown (or perhaps trash, ice, bread...whatever is available) and you better believe the Diva will prevail. No one messes with Diva Divine or comes between her and a good episode of a true crime show and escapes her wrath without a letter from the leasing company or some form of retaliation.

Hark, what is that I hear out in the hallway?? Oh, it sounds like Bob and the Cowpokes toting a cooler, which I am sure is holding/once held beer. So help me if Bob starts his partying at 12:57 a.m., I will go bat shit crazy on his boot wearing ass. I promise you, I will scratch his eyes out. I bet Bob and his Cowpoke pals went to the Rascal Flatts concert tonight....oh, yee haw! I don't think Bob is going to work out here in the building. Bob will have to move. This is yet another chapter in the freak show I call my life. Until next time, Diva Divine

Emails from Sarah....

My friend Sarah works as a nurse, so she keeps some odd hours. She sends me emails when things get slow on the floor. This is just an example of our email correspondence...

Email from Sarah after reading the blog:
Date:Thu, 12 Jun 2008 3:31 am

Hey Diva,

If you decided to work at Disney World you will probably have a frequent house guest. ME ME ME!! I am sorry the job hunt isn't going so well. You could come and work at the "Shit Pit" but why would you want to do that? Alright got to go. Talk to you soon.

Sarah

My Email blast to about a million people in my address book:

Subject: I have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.....
Date: Thu, 12 Jun 2008 21:37:44 -0400

I think I have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I want to work at Disney World as Minnie Mouse. I mean Disney is the happiest place on earth and I think it might be fun to dress up like Minnie and make little kids happy. I might take the gig as Daisy Duck, but I bet Minnie makes more money than Daisy. I have it all figured out, I will work as Minnie and have my own "Paint Your Own Pottery with Minnie" at Disney. It will be a blast.....I could paint lots of pieces with polka dots and use lots of red, white and black. I could paint pieces like the one below....sorry, no red, white and black polka dots in this one, I painted it before I had my epiphany about being Minnie. Enjoy! Diva, soon to be known as Minnie

P.S.-Sarah R...do not tell MaryJane about this piece....It's her wedding gift...a month late....but a wedding gift.

Response from Sarah:
Sent: Thu, 12 Jun 2008 10:38 pm
Subject: RE: I have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.....

My lips are sealed but only if you promise I can visit you lots if you get a gig a Disney.

Reply to Sarah:
Date: Thu, 12 Jun 2008 22:42:13 -0400
From: Diva Divine

I would let you bunk with me at the castle if I ever get to be Minnie. I would even arrange for Mickey to come and visit you:)

Sarah's response:
Date:Thu, 12 Jun 2008 11:28 pm

Maybe I would bring my own Mickey, then you wouldn't have to share.

My reply to Sarah:
Date: Thu, 12 Jun 2008 23:31:24 -0400

Hahaha. I think there is more than one Mickey at Disney so we would not have to share.

Sent from my iPhone

Sarah's response:
Date:Fri, 13 Jun 2008 12:07 am
Can I have Captain Jack Sparrow instead?

My reply to Sarah:
Date:Fri, 13 Jun 2008 8:11 am
Sure, whatever your wish is, I will grant it.....Minnie

After reading these emails, I realize both of us have too much time on our hands. I don't know if I will ever make my goal of working at Disney as Minnie Mouse. I think I would like to work on the Disney Cruise Line. That would be even better than working at Disney World. You could see the world, travel to sunny places, meet lots of people. That would be the life. Perhaps I should check into that right now? I will keep you updated. Until next time, Diva Divine

My Dream Job....

I have found my dream job. I want to work at Disney World and dress up like Minnie Mouse. Okay, I would dress up as Daisy Duck, but I think Minnie would pay more than Daisy. How much do you think a gig like that would pay? Would they let me live at the park in the Castle?? Do you think they get those costumes cleaned on a regular basis? You know how I am about stink and those costumes probably smell kinda bad by the end of each day, especially when it is hot. I think I need to check into that job. I will let you know what I find out. Until next time, Diva Divine

Hey! Who turned out the Lights? Livin' in a dumpy double....

I am currently sitting here in the dark of my dingy apartment. It seems my entire apartment complex is without power right now. I have no idea why we don’t have power, it’s not storming, the wind isn’t even blowing. It’s really odd. The subdivision to the east of my apartment has electric, but we are in the dark. You are probably asking yourself “If you don’t have any power, then how are you typing on your computer?” Well, I have a laptop and fortunately, the battery was charged. I don’t know how long that will last because this battery is craptastic and the charge seems to go out quickly. I need a new battery, but I never think about it when I am near the place where I bought my computer and since I bought the “we will replace your battery for life” package, you better believe I will be taking advantage of that deal.

It is not much fun sitting in the dark without electricity. I am fairly certain I would have made a really crappy pioneer. I know, if I were a pioneer, I wouldn’t have had electricity, television, or the Internet. However, I have some feeling I wouldn’t have been a good fit for the lifestyle. I like modern conveniences. I like turning on the faucet and having water come out, flipping on the lights whenever I enter a room, and having air conditioning. I don’t think I would have been very good at hauling water for the kitchen or only getting to take a bath once a week. I can’t go more than a day, sometimes two (If I haven’t been to the gym), without a shower. Seriously, if I don’t shower, I stink. I like smelling good. I don’t think other people want to smell my stink and I don’t want to smell their stink either. Call me vain, but I will forgo sleep for a shower. Seriously, and I am all about the sleep.

I have lit a nice Yankee Candle however it doesn’t really give off that much light. I can’t read a book, which I would do, if I could see and if I actually had a book to read. I guess I could gather around my Yankee Candle and sing Kumbaya or something special like that, but since I am here alone, it would be weird to be sitting around here singing. I already think I am getting close to the loony bin, I don’t want to get any closer. I tried making shadow puppets on the ceiling, I failed miserably at that too.

Oh my goodness, the lights just came back on! Glory be and the Saints be praised!! Actually, I think I need to be saying “Thank you IPL!” It’s only been about 30 minutes since the lights went off. I didn’t go insane, which is a miracle. This only confirms my thought that I would have made a really crappy pioneer.

Tonight I went to visit my friend, Deanna. We have known each other since Kindergarten. Yeah, that’s like 28 years. We lived next door to each other for three years in a little double. I moved when I changed jobs three years ago and she stayed. She began to refer to our little double as “The Shit Pit.” This was because it seemed that every other week, something else went wrong. Deanna seemed to have more things go wrong with her side of the double than I did. I think that was because the landlord had actually lived in my side of the double and he kept that side up to date, more than he did the other side. Deanna’s toilet rocked when you sat down on it. No, I am not kidding you. It rocked like a ride at an amusement park. No matter what she said to the landlord, he didn’t fix it. She said she was waiting for the day when she would be sitting on the toilet and it would fall through to the basement, then maybe he would do something about it.

So Deanna, who couldn’t take it anymore, moved out at the end of March. She has a cute little apartment which is not a “Shit Pit”. She said it is nice to be able to call Maintenance and not have them get mad because you need them to fix something. I agree with her. I hated to call the landlord when something needed fixed because he treated you like a dumb ass because you called and you couldn’t fix it. Hello, I went to college, but I don’t have any knowledge of plumbing, HVAC or electrical wiring. I also have no clue how to catch a squirrel, which by the way, did happen. I had a squirrel in my house for a week. He told me to set a live trap and keep my television on so the squirrel wouldn’t bother me. Hello, nimrod, squirrels have rabies and the noise in my house didn’t scare Chippy in the least. He tormented me and all I could think was I would wake up and have some squirrel staring me in the face. Yes, I would have been committed had that happened.

The Slumlord, Deanna’s affectionate name for our old landlord, sent Deanna a letter today with her deposit. He actually wrote her a note, like some little junior high boy. He got all nasty because he had to paint a wall in her dining room, even though she bought the paint for him and she had actually been in the hospital earlier in the week. There was no way she could have painted anything in her house. He blamed her for not telling him the toilet and the bathtub were clogged. Hello Slumlord, she told you every month that things didn’t work, but he wouldn’t do anything about it. I thought Deanna was going to kill him when she was telling me about it. She said at least she did get part of her deposit back, because she was convinced she wouldn’t get anything back because he was such a freak. She said as much as she didn’t want to go back to an apartment, it was better than the “Shit Pit” because not only did the Slumlord do nothing, the house, was making her sick. Yes, I think Deanna’s side of the house had a big, bad mold problem. This probably meant my side had a mold problem too, but her side seemed to be much worse. I think it was in the carpets and in her ceiling, too. I had hardwood floors, so I didn’t have the whole carpet issue. I think the mold rose up from the basement, which was always wet, and settled in her carpets. She had the mysterious “bubble” on her dining room ceiling which grew each time it rained. But, according to Slumlord, there wasn’t anything wrong. Deanna said her health improved within a week of moving out of the house. I don’t think she will miss the “Shit Pit”. I have to say, I didn’t miss it when I moved either. I didn’t need the stress of the freaky, Slumlord. No one needs that in their life.

So let’s review what we learned today: I would make a crappy pioneer. I am vain and like modern conveniences. I don’t like to smell stinky and I can’t make shadow puppets on the ceiling. I once lived in a double affectionately known as “The Shit Pit” and I’ve known Deanna since Kindergarten. A squirrel named Chippy once tormented me for a week and I rented a double from a slumlord. That’s a lot of information, but I am sure you can handle it. Until next time, Diva Divine

Where do I go from here?

I've had a few days to digest the whole "you are too big of a nervous wreck for us to hire you" email. I still feel like a big loser. There really isn't any other way to feel. Seriously, it would have been easier if they would have said the other person had better qualifications. Then at least I wouldn't have felt like such a big loser. It's not hard to "lose" to someone who is better at a job than you, but to lose to someone who could just handle their nerves better and not look like a dumb ass, that is hard to handle.

Now, I don't know what to do with my life. I have applied for a lot of jobs and I have heard zero. A lot of the things I have applied for make it very clear, if we want to talk to you, we will call you. They let you know upfront that they will not take calls concerning the position and they don't give you any email addresses so you can keep bugging the people about the job. You have no control over anything once you have sent your stuff off over the Internet. I don't like not having control.

So, where do I go from here? I have no clue. I feel like I'm adrift on this endless ocean in some flimsy life raft. I'm hanging on for dear life, but I think it would be easier to just let go. I'm tired of being disappointed, failing and feeling like I keep getting kicked when I am down. I know in life there will be disappointments, and you will fail, but it's like it is always following me around and I can't get a break. There are times when I just want to walk away from it all and not look back. I just want it all to stop.

My Mom told me last week I should go and ask to get my teaching job back. Is she crazy?? She just doesn't understand I really hated my job. It wasn't the kids, it was all the other parts of the job. I have no desire to ever teach school again. I don't want that stress in my life. I don't want to spend my life doing a job I don't like and a job that doesn't make me happy. I just don't know what job will make me happy and I don't know what I am good at. I don't know how I am supposed to figure it out either. That's almost as stressful as being in a job you don't like. I just wish someone would tell me what to do because it would be easier than trying to figure it out myself.

I think I am going to go crawl into my bed and sleep, which these days seems to be about the only thing I am good at. Maybe I will have some big epiphany in my sleep which will lead me to my dream job. Yeah right, I won't hold my breath on that one. Until next time, Diva Divine

I think they cried.....

I set upon the arduous task of taking my classroom library to Half Price Books (HPB) today. Since I really had no need for eleventy billion books (yes, an exaggeration, but there were too many to count and I like the sound of eleventy billion...you have to admit it has sort of a ring to it) sitting in my 800 square foot apartment, I decided I should try to get some cash for my books. I figured I would end up with $5.00 for my eleventy billion books. I could buy a $5.00 foot long at Subway with that money. That would feed me for two meals. I also thought I could put a gallon and a quarter of gas in my car. That would get me to the gym a few times, possibly to church on Sunday. At least I wouldn't have to deal with tripping over all those books or trying to find a home for all of them.

So, I get to HPB and load up my cart with all the boxes I had in my car. I neglected to mention I had already taken three boxes in to HPB last fall when school started and I had donated two complete classroom sets of books to another school. I had even given one of my friends a crate or two of books last summer since I knew I wouldn't need them when I was teaching 6th grade. I still had several boxes....six altogether. People were coming through the parking lot gawking at me, as I tried to keep the books/boxes on the cart and not blow away in the gusty winds. I was also burning up because it is sort of hot. I was sweating profusely. I no doubt looked like a hot mess.

I got my books in and waited for the HPB staff to decide how much they would give me for my plethora of books. It took the guy over 20 minutes to sort through all of them and put them into categories. I sat there and watched him. I was trying to figure out how they determined what they would pay you. I noticed he put all the little paperbacks together, the teacher type books, picture books, etc. That gave me no real idea of how they decide how much to give you, but I did realize it made their job a lot easier when they went to price them and put them on the shelf for sale. I am sure they just give you a flat rate for all the paperbacks, picture books, etc and then add them all up. I wanted to ask, but I felt like that was being too nosy. Maybe the employees are sworn to some double secret oath to not divulge the formula. Like they said in the movie Fight Club, "The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club." I bet the employees are told "The first rule of HPB is you do not talk about how we determine price the of books. The second rule of HPB is- you DO NOT talk about how we determine the price of the books." I bet if they do, they get their ears chopped off, or maybe they get some form of torture. Maybe they are forever banished to the back room with all the books, using the pricing gun to affix price tags. That would be like purgatory. Kind of like the guy on the Dunkin Donuts commercial who always says "Time to make the donuts.' but at HPB, you would say "Time to price the books." Why do I have this feeling this whole thing is a lot funnier to me than it is to anyone else? I guess because I was there and I am completely random.

After I waited in the comfy red chair for what seemed like forever, they finally called my name for my "offer." Mr. HPB announced my offer was $23.00. $23.00 for my eleventy billion books, which happened to be nearly 5 times more than I thought I would get. I told Mr. HPB I would take his offer and gladly skip to the register to collect my cash. He then pointed to a box of books they couldn't take because they were either damaged or really old, or they were used library books. He said "I put them in the box so you could carry them back to your car." Excuse me? Did you say I was going to carry those back to my car?? Did you not understand when I brought these books in, after wrestling with the boxes against the wind and sweating like a pig in your parking lot, I never intended to take anything but some cash home in my Kenneth Cole Wallet. Which the last time I checked, was not large enough for any books. I looked at him and said "I am not taking those back with me. I don't want them." I didn't want to tell him I was too lazy to put them back in my car and haul them up to my apartment. So, Mr. HPB said they would dispose of them for me. I don't care what they were doing with them, just as long as I didn't have to deal with them anymore.

I took my happy ass to the cash register at the front of the store and traded my receipt for some dinero. I carefully avoided looking at any books because I knew some how, I would end up buying them and negating the whole reason for going to HPB in the first place, which was to make some money and get rid of books. As I walked out of the store, I had to pass by my books which were all stacked on the counter. They looked so lonely sitting up there in stacks. They weren't all grouped together in my nice little baskets on the shelves of my classroom. They weren't my books anymore....now they belonged to HPB and some day, they would belong to someone else. I sort of got a little nostalgic for a second. I had a lot of memories with those books and the kids who loved to read them. Their little faces flashed through my mind for a split second. I had to walk away because it made me a little sad. As I opened the door to leave, I swear, I think my books were crying....maybe that was me getting choked up...perhaps I had something in my eye?? I don't know. I had to focus on the fact that I had $23.00 in my wallet and I could buy four foot long subs from Subway, or about six gallons of gas for my car or any of the other endless ways I could spend those greenbacks. I am slowly making the metamorphosis from teacher to what ever I am supposed to be. Don't worry, I did keep a few of my favorite books, so I am not bookless, just not book logged.
Until next time, Diva Divine

It's a wonder I've ever been hired for a job....

Sometimes, I think it is better to leave well enough alone. I was upset when once again, I was number two for a job. It hurts when that happens because you know how close you were and it's hard to be number two. It's like almost, but not quite and we all know close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Well, after I got my nice ding email about the job interview last week, I decided I had to know why I didn't get the job. I think I must have been hit with the stupid stick because I shouldn't have asked because finding out you have a character flaw is like having someone stab you through the heart with a blunt object.

So, Mr. Nonprofit sends me back an email telling me why I didn't get the job this is what it said..." I am happy to offer this suggestion for your interviews...just relax and take the edge off so that you can come across better to the interviewers. I think you have a lot to offer, but it is hard to discern that when you come across so nervous. In any role that involves meeting people, that raised the question regarding how you will do in the first impressions. Hope this helps...good luck...Mr. Nonprofit".

Okay, how would he like to have three people firing questions at you? I mean, it's an interview. You are supposed to be nervous. I was a lot more relaxed for this interview than I have been for most. I took my adderall...I was focused and I would have hated for them to see me without the adderall. Yeah, can you say completely whacked out? I mean, cut me some slack. Just because a person is nervous in an interview doesn't mean that is how they are all the time. When I meet people, I know they aren't going to be interviewing me, I think I make a good first impression, so really, I don't understand this at all. Yes, I am a little "flighty", that is what my Mom says about me, but flighty people are still people and just because I am a little excitable, doesn't mean I would make a bad first impression.

This makes me wonder how I have ever gotten a job in my whole life. I am going to say this and you can disagree all you want, but I think the reason I have gotten jobs in my life is because the people have been destitute for someone and I just happened to fall in their lap at the right time. I had a pulse and I was breathing. I have always thought this, and now I feel like it's been affirmed.

Allow me to make my case:
My first teaching job was in a school people were afraid to work at. I was foolish enough to send in my resume, even though I knew about the reputation of the school. I thought I could change the world, and it didn't matter if I had to leave the building at 4:00 every day so I wouldn't get mugged. I should have known when the principal hired me on the spot, that I was probably the only person she had to interview and if she didn't fill the job soon, she was going to be in trouble. I had a pulse and I was breathing.

My next teaching job came down to the wire. The principal had to hire someone before school started. The job also involved teaching Kindergarten in the morning and Middle School Science in the afternoon. How many people would want to take a job like that one? Yeah, not too many. I think the other people she interviewed didn't want to have such a crazy day, so again, I was the only one insane enough to take the job. I just wanted to teach.

Job number three, well, this one, I don't know. I have some idea I was in the right place at the right time. I do know that one of the people on the interview committee didn't really think I was all that great and had it been up to him, they wouldn't have hired me. Again, I think he felt I was a little too flighty. I think they wanted to make a choice and I was there when they needed to fill the spot. They wanted to go on vacation and I had a pulse and I was breathing. Plus, I was cheap enough for them to afford on their salary base. Coming from Catholic School, even with my experience, I was still in a salary range they could handle.

This brings me to teaching job number four. I actually had gotten the big "ding" call from my last school. Yeah, they had hired someone else, even after I had walked out of the interview thinking "this job is mine." This was probably because the person who did the majority of the interviewing, was just as flighty as me. Flighty people have to stick together. We mesh well. We get one another. It was quite a shock when the Principal called and said "Sorry, we decided to go in another direction." What direction is that? Ass backward, because your Vice Principal made it sound like the job was mine. Did I say that? No, but that is how I felt. How surprised was I when the next day, they called me saying "We made a big mistake. We really meant to hire you." Okay, knowing what I know now, that meant, "We are really screwed because the person we hired left for lunch at noon after our morning staff development session and never came back. Since school starts on Monday and it's Friday at 4:35, we have to hire you so we have a warm body in the room for the students." Once again, pulse and breathing.

So, now I am really questioning myself and my whole work history. I don't think I have ever gotten a job because I was the best candidate for the position. I don't think I've ever been hired because of my talents or my skills. I have just been hired because I was they were so hard up for someone to fill the position and I happened to be the only person they had to pick from. It makes me think my whole professional career has been a big joke. A farce. That hurts. To know people never hired me because I was good at what I did, to finally realize, what I think I knew all along, I was never a good teacher, that hurts. Actually, I think I was probably a really bad teacher. Sure, I loved the students, but lots of people love kids and they aren't teachers. What I was doing, a substitute teacher could have done.

I sit at this crossroads with this realization staring me dead in the face: My whole career has been a joke and I feel like a big failure, a phony. How many students lives did I screw up because I wasn't the best person to be in that classroom? How many students' educations suffered because I wasn't the best teaching candidate? Talk about feeling guilty. I shudder at the thought of knowing I have messed up countless students because someone just wanted a warm body in the classroom. I know people will say, it's the principal's fault because they hired me, they are just as much to blame, if not more, because it was their decision. But I have to think I was the one who took the job, who signed the contract, who put my name on the dotted line and I'm ultimately the one to take the blame.

I guess this is a big lesson I should have learned a long time ago. I remember sitting in my methods classes during college, looking around the room thinking "I would never want that person to teach my child." What a mean person I was for thinking those thoughts. What ever gave me the right to think I was better than anyone else or I was entitled to pass judgement on my classmates? It makes me wonder how many of them were thinking "I never want my child in her class." Probably most, if not all, of them.

I am so disappointed in myself for blowing this interview, just like I think I have blown a lot of other interviews. Ultimately, it was me who was seriously flawed, it wasn't that I was up against someone who had more qualifications than me, it was that someone else realized I wasn't good enough. That is a hard pill to swallow. I feel myself choking on it, gasping for air and struggling to get the pill down because it's senseless to deny what I know is true. Might as well take it like a big girl and suck it up.

I have tried "mock" interviewing with people, but that hasn't helped. I'm just as nervous interviewing under "mock" circumstances, if not more nervous. I had to realize and accept the fact I had a problem paying attention. I had to go on medicine to help me calm myself down. Other than going on Xanax for every interview, I don't know how else I am going to be calm enough. I don't want to be drugged out during an interview because people need to know who I a really am, because the Diva on meds is vastly different from the Diva "unplugged". Imagine meeting me "unplugged" after you have interviewed me all mellowed out on Xanax? Talk about false advertising. They would be very afraid. Kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Diva....they would be scratching their heads saying "What happened to the person we interviewed? Talk about misrepresentation...what were we thinking?"

So, I am sitting at this place of uncertainty. I don't know what I should be doing and I know my whole professional career up to now has been a big joke. I don't know what I am good at, I don't know where I am supposed to be headed and I am too scared to even know where to start. It's hard to leave something you have known for eleven years, something you identified with and move into the unknown. It's even harder to realize the last eleven years have been a farce because the only reason you ever got a job was because you were breathing and had a pulse. I feel like I am a phony. I don't even know who I am.

Where do I go from here? Seriously, I don't know. I don't want to go on another interview for fear I will screw it up just as much as I screwed up the last one. I don't want a job just because I have a pulse and I am breathing. I want a job because I am good at it and someone else believes I would be an asset to their company. I want to be the candidate who people say "If we don't get her, we won't hire anyone else." I want to be wanted. I guess that is all most of us want.

I've never been a person who things have come easily to. I've always had to fight for what I wanted and fight hard for everything I have gotten. I've clawed my way through and I have had to prove people wrong all the time. I am tired of working so hard to make it and having to prove people wrong. It makes me tired. I'm worn out. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. I don't expect everything to be handed to me on a silver platter, but it would be nice to be able to just have something go my way, for once. I don't want to kill myself to get there, or claw my nails down to the quick to hold on. I just want it to happen because it's supposed to happen, because it's right. I don't know if that is too much to ask or not, but just once, I'd like it to happen to me because I'm tired of finishing second and never being good enough. Because once you have finished second enough times enough times, you start to think no matter what you do, it's not good enough and you don't know if you should just give up and give in. Because sooner or later, not being good enough breaks you down and I'm tired of being broken. Until next time, Diva Divine

Number 2 again...Lack of a Rack

Well, I didn't get the big job I interviewed for last week. I said if the job is between me and one other person, the other person will get the job. I swear, this has happened to me at least three or four times. I think I am surrounded by bad karma. I hate being Number 2.

So, I need to figure out what I am going to be when I grow up. Below is a list I have started with future jobs. Feel free to add your ideas in the comment sections.

1. Barista at Starbucks
2. Pole Dancer (hey, some people like big girls)
3. Greeting Card Designer
4. Famous Author
5. Stand-Up Comic
6. Cake Decorator
7. Pottery Painter

This brings me to my second troubling topic of the day. I have no boobs. No rack. Lack of a rack. I guess I shouldn't be complaining, but when you don't have the bust to fill out a top, it's sad. Once, I was quite busty. When I say quite busty, I'm talking 44 DDD busty. Yeah, big honking rack. Then, I had a little of my boobage removed. Seriously, my back couldn't take it anymore. My shoulders were all whacked out and it is not fun when you have to wear three bras just so you can exercise. I was very happy with the size of my chest after surgery. Then, it seemed like my boobs just disappeared. I think it's in my head, because I really think my cup size has remained the same, but my band size has gotten smaller. My bras are too big, and considering I have a plethora of bras....my dresser drawer looks like a Victoria Secret store, I am sad. I will have to replace my whole cache. So for now, I will just have to deal with my lack of a rack. Although, it is sad when girls half my age have bigger boobs than me. At least I can invest in some chicken cutlets to stuff my bra. Until next time, Diva Divine

Waiting is the hardest part....oh my aching feet

Festivus ended yesterday. I think we made about 250 lemon shake-ups yesterday. If I see a lemon shake-up before next Festivus, it will be too soon. Seriously, I don't even want to smell the scent of lemon. You might think I am joking, I'm not.

After the storms on Friday night, which were later determined to be tornadoes, I was sleep deprived. I didn't get to bed until 2:30 that night and I woke up at 7:30. I did go back to sleep for a little while, but I had to get my hair cut at 11:30, so I had to leave my house by 11:00 so I could get there on time. I worked all day and got home around 11:45. I think I was in bed by 12:30. I was all ready to sleep until 8:15. Oh, no, this was not to be because I woke up at 6:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Are you kidding me? Usually I am excellent at sleeping, not so much this last weekend.

Today, I spent most of my time sleeping. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I moved from the bed to the couch. I have no energy, and I really don't seem to think that is a problem. I need a shower, but I don't feel like standing up that long. It doesn't matter that I smell awful. I don't think my feet can handle it either. They hurt so bad. Of any part of my body, my feet hurt the most. Then, it would be my back, which is probably because my feet hurt. I think I am falling apart. Tomorrow, I will feel better, I just needed to do nothing today.

Still no word on the job front. I just hope I get that job. I have tried not to think about it, but it's kind of hard. Sleeping today, helped keep my mind from fixating on it, but that is not going to be the case tomorrow, when I have to go back to a somewhat normal schedule. Being lazy was fun while it lasted. Until next time, Diva Divine