I'm just not that into you

I'm not quite sure why I continue to dip my toe into the dating pool. It's really hard to meet a normal, smart guy who is as equally into you as you are into him. Usually, the balance of power is woefully one sided.

I'm certainly no exception. I'm either the heartbreaker (doctor) or the heartbroken (lawyer). I'm just not that into the former and the latter is definitely just not that into me.

Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug. But either way, it's messy.

I suppose it's harder to see the signs when you're not looking, but they're always there. The not responding to texts. The vague response to being asked out (guys... "I'm really busy all week, let's talk next week" is code for "I don't want to make time for you."). Because, really, if my walking on the treadmill and incessant Facebook lurking takes precedence over dinner with you, it's so not going to happen.

And yeah, I tend to fall fast if I'm going to fall, but even I have whiplash after the initial lunch date follow-up text of "I need to know what you're thinking." I'm kind of annoyed by the 6:30 a.m. "Good morning, beautiful" text, and really, really annoyed by the 9:30 a.m. text of "Are you ok? You never responded to my text earlier today."

Ugh. Why do I only want the men who don't want me?

A friend of mine once said to me, "He who cares least controls the relationship." I questioned it at the time, but it's totally true. I have all the power in the doctor relationship. I'm still ignoring his dinner invitation from 10 hours ago. And I know if I called him right now he'd want to talk to me. Even if someone's bleeding.

But I won't. Because I don't care. And the lawyer? I'm obsessing over the fact that he hasn't called. Because I do care.

It's enough to make a girl want to give up on dating altogether. But I won't. That's why I agreed to another blind date. Because he might be the one.

Probably not. More likely, I'll be annoyed by him or he'll be avoiding my phone calls.

And so it has been since the beginning of time. At least Adam had to choose Eve. He wasn't looking around for someone thinner or hotter or a chick with a smaller leaf. Besides, she obviously was in control of that relationship. Forbidden fruit? Of course, for you, Eve.

Last week one of my exes sent me a Facebook message to wish me happy birthday, and asked how long it's been since our "little liasion." First of all, ick. And second of all, you are MARRIED. So inappropriate.

But the weirdest thing of all is that I can't remember why we broke up. I remember being devastated at the time, but now, I don't care at all. So life definitely does go on, and there are many, many more men left to break my heart.

And more hearts left for me to break, too.

Dad update

Quick update: Dad came home today. Still no answers about what caused the blackout, so he has some follow-up appointments soon.

Thanks for your prayers and your concern!

Prayer request

My father has requested that I NOT post this, but hopefully he'll forgive the breach of confidence. I'm asking that you please keep him in your prayers. He had a little episode this weekend in which he blacked out and wrecked his truck. He's been in the hospital for two days having tests. The good news is that, so far, they can't find anything wrong with him. The bad news is that they can't figure out what made him short of breath and pass out.

We all covet your prayers.

Bitter, party of one

The day after my birthday is kind of like the day after Christmas... somewhat of a letdown. The good news is that I still have a couple of celebrations to look forward to, but the bad news is that it's 364 more days until another day that's all about me.

Being a self-absorbed narcissist, I adore being the center of attention. I like all eyes on me. I welcome the spotlight. Always have for some reason.

So I was really looking forward to my birthday party last night. When I mentioned to one of my NWA friends that I'd spent the last two years alone, she insisted on planning a party. After all, we celebrate everyone in the group's birthday in a big way with parties, dancing, dinners, and sometimes even Patron-filled squirt guns.

And yeah, LB had flaked on me which meant I was going dateless and DD-less, but still... this was my party. It was going to be an amazing night.

Turns out not so much. One singular person showed up for dinner. Everyone else had other plans. And sure, individually they all had good reasons, but collectively it sucks that only one person wanted to celebrate with me. I bought new jeans for this. I gave up a weekend in Tulsa with three of my oldest and dearest friends in order to party with my new friends.

It's my party, and I'll gripe if I want to.

Sure, there's world famine and war and oppression world-wide, so I should be happy I got a free meal (Michelle felt so bad to be the only one there she paid for dinner), but I realized last night that I'm not nearly as popular as I thought I was.

Luckily two more of my friends showed up later, with four others in tow. So four people I'd never met helped me celebrate.

Oh, and LB? Not a word yesterday. Not a text, not an email, not a phone call. Yes, I did tell him to leave me alone and I'm sure one could argue he was merely honoring my wishes, but he did know it was my birthday, and after my making such a big deal out of his, I kind of expected some sort of olive branch. Jerk.

I'm not quite sure why I'm awake a mere four hours after going to bed. But at least I'm over my crying jag and feeling sorry for myself. Next year I'll have lower expectations.

The way you make me feel

It's been a tragic day. First Farrah and then Michael Jackson. Not a great time for those who've had excessive plastic surgery.

I barely remember when Farrah was on "Charlie's Angels," but I'm pretty sure my brother had that famous poster on his wall. You know the one... red one-piece swimsuit... obviously cold.

I do, however, remember vividly when Michael Jackson used to be cool. Back when he was still black and had a normal nose. Before he started naming all of his kids "Michael" and covering their faces with veils. Before Neverland and the creepy fixation with little boys.

My first album was "Thriller." It was a 33 LP, and I listened to it on my Donny & Marie record player. I remember staying up to watch "Friday Night Videos" to catch "Beat It." That seems so weird now, when we can watch anything on iTunes and YouTube. Of course, I also used to keep a cassette recorder by the radio in case they played a song I liked, so that I could tape it. Now, if I think of a song I'd like to listen to, I fork over 99 cents and voila, I own it. And there's no DJ talking over the beginning of it.

It's weird how much has happened in the past four decades. 37 years ago tonight, a crazy man was loose in the small town of Hartford, and my mom was in labor.

I'm really tired and ready for bed, but trying to enjoy my last few hours of being 36. I'm not quite sure why I feel so old this year. Perhaps it's because I hang out with 20-somethings. Or maybe because I'm dating men who have grandkids. More likely, it's because I remember record players and rotary phones and Michael Jackson before he was a freak.

The good news of the day? Had to buy smaller jeans for the big party tomorrow night. Yay me!

Out with the old, in with the new

I think I've officially gone off the deep end. For some reason, I've been in a great mood all week. Yeah, things are going well at work (in a scary sort of way, like the calm before the storm), but I'm beginning to wonder if I'll die alone. I mean, seriously, the men I date make me wish I were attracted to women. But the good news is that I'm supremely blessed with great friends, and that more than makes up for the incessant text messaging and lame apologies.

A couple of weeks ago I made a new friend, and she called last night on her way home from St Louis to comisserate about our terrible dating experiences. There's something about knowing I'm not alone that makes me feel a lot better. Misery loves company, I suppose.

But you know what Jimmy Buffett said, "If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane."

One more day 'til the birthday celebration. Got my present yet?

Happy birthday to Jen!

In all of my self-absorbed ranting, I totally forgot to wish a very happy birthday to one of my favorite people. Happy belated natal anniversary, Dr. Jen! You are one of the smartest, funniest, sexiest women I've ever known! You can cook. You are crafty. You are a great writer. You are amazing! With the exception of marrying into our family, you've made some great decisions.

Love you, Jen! So glad you married beneath you!

(I'm just kidding, Lon, you know you're my favorite almost brother.)

More postcards (really... this is the last time)

To the dating gods...
What could I have possibly done to you? I realize I'm nuerotic and taller than the Statue of Liberty, but surely there's a nice, normal man out there for me. In the meantime, I will remain happily single rather than deal with dating. I hate, hate, HATE it. Perhaps I should have surgery and change my name to Chaz, babe.
Send me a normal man or suffer the consequences.
Lori
-----------------------------
Doctor man,
I really want to like you. You are so very sweet and take me to nice restaurants. Your compliments make me feel good. But the texting at 6:30 a.m. to tell me to have a nice day is a bit much. And the texting three hours later because I didn't respond and you're worried is just annoying. I have a job. I need some space. I can't breathe.
Lori
------------------------------
Lawyer boy,
Props for finally growing a pair and calling, but how clueless are you that you really thought I was having dinner with you tonight? Seriously? And thanks for the opportunity for me to enlighten you as to the extent of my rage and disappointment. As for the apology? Too little, too late, bucko. Go find yourself another friend. I really meant it when I said you need to leave me alone. A year ago I didn't know who you were and I was happy then.
Have a nice life,
Lori
------------------------------
Dad,
You said I'd be talking to LB again by Wednesday, but you were wrong. You lose the bet. I'm serious this time.
Your daughter

Postcards from the edge, part deux

Chick from the tanning place,
Thanks for putting down your nail polish long enough to do your job. And yes, I'd like for you to clean the bed before I get in it, and so would the health department. Oh, and by the way, I don't speak French, but I'm pretty confident that the "x" in St Croix is silent.
Lori
-------------------------
Dear LRIB,
Woo-hoo! Thanks for the charming e-mail. And yes, I'll be your Facebook friend, or whatever else you'd like. I even might learn to like the outdoors for you. Few other men could convince me to stand in a circle and remain silent while others assemble plungers and green balls. But it totally made sense at the time.
Lori
-------------------------
Mother Nature,
I'm all for seasons, but really... does it have to be this friggin' hot? I'm melting. I did NOT buy $30 makeup so that it could drip off my face onto my $400 handbag. If I wanted this much humidity I'd move to Texas.
xo,
Lori
-------------------------
Dr. Love,
Thanks for the very nice lunch at the very nice restaurant. If you were trying to impress me, you performed admirably. Wish I could have stopped thinking about LB while I was eating my expensive crab cakes. And ordering the dessert for me and telling me I needed to eat something? Bold move, but my thighs disagree. Still very, very sweet.
Lori
-------------------------
Lawyer boy,
I suppose I was naive to think that, even though I invested nearly a year in our relationship, I could get over it in a matter of days. It sucks how much I miss you. It sucks even more that you haven't called. Obviously I overestimated how you feel about me, and underestimated how I feel about you. And you wonder why I have trust issues? I hope you're happy. No, that's not true. I hope you're as miserable as I am.
Sad girl

Postcards from the edge

What's up, Doc?
Thanks for the 47 text messages today. It was great getting to know you better... You are a witty conversationalist. I thought coffee tonight was a great idea. Thanks for asking. And thanks for not answering my texts and phone calls when I got back into town. Was there some sort of nuclear disaster I didn't know about? I'm sure there's a good explanation and I look forward to hearing it along with your apology. You can send the flowers to my office.
Best,
Lori
-------------------
Dear LB,
It's been 72 hours and I'm still mad at you. The least you could do is try to call so that I could have the satisfaction of ignoring you. Or, better yet, text me. I've got my reply all written already. It ends with, "I'm so disappointed in you." Guess all your crying last month and telling me I'm one of the most important people in your life took a backseat to a date with a chick you barely know. It's my birthday this week, you creep, and if you want me to forgive you in this lifetime, there'd better be an apology. You said you couldn't live without me, so why aren't you dead?
Get bent,
Lori
-------------------
To the cute ropes course guy,
Please don't judge me by the yoga pants and sweat stains. I'm a fun gal when I'm not balancing on a wire and sticking my butt in your face. Let's do some experiential learning of our own.
Lori
--------------------
Dear Dad,
I'm sorry for all of the times I got mad at you for not letting me do things like go to Ronnie's and shoot pool. I know now that they were smoking dope. And I'm sorry that Brad and I make fun of you for asking so many questions. You've left Gina alone, so I'm less afraid to introduce you to my boyfriend (if I ever get one). Happy Father's Day!
Your daughter

Reality check: one narcissist's lesson in humility

I'm not quite sure when we all started thinking our job was more important than others. But there seems to be a competition out there to see who can work the longest and hardest. Everyone's job is stressful, right?

My life seems to be gripped in the tyranny of urgency. When the light on my BlackBerry blinks red, it physically pains me not to stop whatever I'm doing and see what important e-mail awaits (New recommended book at Amazon? How could I have possibly waited 10 minutes to know that?). I rush from meeting to meeting. I lose sleep over unfinished tasks.

Wait... someone needs a report? I'll cancel whatever I'm doing!

When you're a single person, it's often difficult to find a balance. The first thing I do when I get up in the morning is turn on my BlackBerry to discover what kinds of admissions emergencies happened overnight. I spend my weekends doing spreadsheets, planning meetings, and thinking about processes. After all, it's life or death whether someone gets an acceptance letter on Monday or Tuesday, right?

Please don't get me wrong. Most days I love my job and I find a lot of satisfaction in what I do. I think I'm helping people to change their lives for the better and, at the end of the day, that makes all the stress worthwhile.

But really... why do I kill myself on all of this stuff that, in as little as a few hours, will seem unimportant? Why do I postpone my relationships, eat lunch at my desk, and avoid taking vacation days?

Yes, I think we all should value what we do and put our heart and soul into it, but we shouldn't do it to the exclusion of having a life.

So, in the interest of getting one of those, I called the new guy back last night. We talked for a few moments about travel and interests and hobbies--typical first date conversation--until I heard commotion in the background and finally said, "Are you at work?"

He was. And two traumas had just entered the room. So we had to hang up quickly.

You know, hearing me talk about my day somehow takes a back seat to plunging one's hand into a chest cavity. I guess the world really doesn't revolve around me after all.

I did get a sweet e-mail a couple of hours later, apologizing for the brevity of our conversation. Yeah, I'm self involved, but even I was okay with that. Hang up and grab the paddles.

I laughed when I read it because it put my life in such perspective. I seldom apologize to people for checking my BlackBerry while they're talking. I don't think about giving many people my undivided attention because I can multi-task while they explain in great detail why they have such a low grade point average. But really... nothing I do is life or death. So I need to slow down, do the best that I can do with the time given, and let the rest go.

Here's hoping we all have a stress-free day.

Joy cometh in the morning

After last night's unfortunate events, I got less than two hours' sleep. Thankfully I haven't managed to find a loophole that lets LB off the hook for this one, so I'm still angry. I mean, really, with 8 trillion women in the world, he has to date one of my friends? I'm so disappointed in his character. And even if his intentions really were to tell me himself before I hear it from someone else, the execution sucks.

But after several hours of mad, I finally went to the first place I should've gone. I talked to God about it. Asked Him to change my heart, accept this as an answered prayer, and move on.

So when I woke up this morning with the sun rising over the lake just outside my window, I had clarity.

There's a reason pity parties are usually a party of one. That's not a fun place to be. I choose joy.

I choose the joy in knowing God answered that prayer and answered it in a way that firmly shut the door and allowed me to move on. I choose joy in knowing that I have the love of an unchanging, Holy Lord who redeemed me from my sin.

For the past couple of weeks, the song "Great is Thy Faithfulness" has been stuck in my head, but never more than early today, when I was reminded of His mercy.

Most of us are familiar with the passage in Lamentations from which that song comes. But what I'd forgotten were the verses prior to that when Jeremiah outlines all of the bad things that he'd been through. Not because of anything He'd done, but because of the sins of His people. He details for nearly 20 verses all of the struggles, but then says,

I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed. I remember it all — oh, how well I remember — the feeling of hitting the bottom.

But there's one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up.
They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness!

I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left.
~Lamentations 3:19-24 (Msg)

I'm sticking with God. I'm choosing His joy. I'm trusting He knows what's best for me.

Here comes goodbye

I've never been one to give up easily when things are important to me. It takes me a long time and several attempts before I admit defeat. But sometimes, you have to cut your losses and move on.

My cell phone can go for days without ringing. But tonight, after all of the retreat hoopla, I pulled out my phone to find three missed calls. One from a number I didn't recognize, and two from LB, one of which happened in the middle of the afternoon. It kind of scared me. An evening call is not that weird, but Mr. Workaholic does not phone me during a weekday.

What he wanted? To ask me about one of my sorority sisters, with whom he went on a date last night. Speechless, I finally said, "Um, she's nice, but I don't really know her that well."

Are you kidding me? I thought the days of getting dumped for sorority sisters were far behind me. And, I'm the one who introduced them. At a party we went to together.

After stewing awhile, I finally texted him and told him that I'd asked him not to talk to me about dating and that call was so uncool.

Yeah, I'm hurt. But more than that, I'm finally pissed. And I'm done.

His response? He understands, but he wanted me to hear it from him and not from someone else. Well happy friggin' birthday to me.

Oh, and the other call? From a guy who a friend's been trying to set us up. Best way to get over a lawyer? Date a doctor. Take that, you big jerk.

Wilderness safari

I am not an outdoorsy kind of girl. I dislike bugs, humidity, and am very allergic to grass, trees, and bee stings. Being outside makes me perspire and itch.

So I'm not thrilled to be embarking on our annual staff retreat today. Granted, it's at a mansion and not in a tent, but still... it's about 100 degrees and we're going to be outside all day. On the ropes course.

I hate heights, so as the person who scheduled this shindig, I requested no high ropes. But the powers that be vetoed my request, suggesting that it would be helpful for my team to see my vulnerability.

I willingly admit that I'm a control freak. And I'm sure that my staff and others find me void of emotion and all of the touch-feely mumbo jumbo that goes along with working at a Christian organization. But I don't understand how watching your boss freak out while trying to balance her size 11 shox on a small stick while standing 25 feet in the air makes you respect her more. Is being thrown up on a bonding moment? I suppose so... it's been working for sororites for decades.

So I've agreed to sweat and swear on the ropes course all day. Luckily there's a beautiful view of Beaver Lake. Where I will jump rather than climb a telephone pole.

In convincing me of this terrible idea, someone said, "C'mon, what would Jesus do?" Um, not really a fair question since JC has the benefit of knowing the future. He also turned water into wine and that did not turn out well the last time I tried it.

I mean, really, who thinks it's a good idea to harness yourself to some guy who has to somehow catch you if you fall? And I hate it how they always size up the guys to see who could possibly counterbalance me. Jumbo, put down your donut and strap yourself to Lori.

If I die, it was nice knowing all of you.

Of course, I should have some affection for the ol' ropes course. After all, it was in said harness while sweating in August that I met the boy. Strap me in, fellas.

This really blows. No, I do not accept this rose.

I've always been fascinated by "The Bachelor" as social commentary. Who are these women who are dating the same man as 24 other beautiful girls, when not given a rose after a 30-second encounter, cry on camera in utter shock? Really? There were 24 other hot chicks and you thought your split-second meeting was meaningful? That's why so many of them make really poor first impressions. They're so afraid Andy/Aaron/Alan/Alex won't remember them come thorn time, they get drunk/talk about feet/boil a rabbit and get shut in the limo, their dreams of falling in love while the world watches dashed.

Granted, that show flies in the face of feminism. What self-respecting woman would subject herself to that cattle call? Most of us get rejected enough on our own when the men in our lives are only dating one or two other people. And then you're pretty much alone in your rejection. Ocassionally there's a waiter who witnesses your shame, but he'll usually avert his eyes and pretend not to notice that the boy can't wait to get out of there and on to his next victim. I don't think I want to be the girl less attractive than 20 other women while my grandmother and first grade teacher watch. With popcorn. Humiliation: film at 11.

My 84-year-old grandmother is obsessed with the show. She and her spry 82-year-old sister watch it faithfully, then call early the next day to discuss the rose ceremony. A few months ago, before the last couple got engaged and subsequently broke up, she was discussing the show with me. (Sidenote: three years ago I met Andy Baldwin at Pearl Harbor, found out Tessa was going to win, and told her before the finale. Now she thinks I've got Bachelor clairvoyancy.)

She says to me, "You think it's terrible that I watch that, don't you?" I responded that while I watched trashier shows than that (read The Hills), I just don't get the Bachelor appeal. Further, I said, "I'm surprised you like that show. Doesn't it bother you that he's sleeping with all of those women at the same time?"

"Not all of 'em," she replied. "Just three."

People, how desensitized has this show made us that my Baptist church preacher's wife grandmother thinks that three concurrent intimate relationships is appropriate? The sky is falling, chicken little.

The reason for this rant is because I've been thinking today about the value of the one-on-one date versus the group date on that show. One-on-one time is better, right?

So why am I so bummed to find out that LB can't come to my birthday party next week? Sure, I get that it's a mandatory work thing and I get that he feels really, really bad about it, but it makes me sad. Consolation is that I get a private dinner instead, but it somehow seems tainted now. Rather than dinner and dancing on a Friday night with all of our friends, I get Tuesday night after work. But at least I'll still be 36 for that outing.

This never happened when I was dating mechanics.

I told him that next time I'd try to be born on a more convenient day for him. Then I let him off the hook. This had better be the most dramatic Tuesday ever, Chris Harrison.

Fit thrown, way granted

It seems I've turned into one of those people.

I hate to watch kids throw fits. Oh, I know it's in their DNA and they just can't help themselves, but what I hate more than that is watching parents give in. Because really, if they end up getting their way, doesn't that just encourage said bad behavior?

Last week I had a rare work fit. Believe it or not, I'm generally amenable. I try to be the bigger person, get along, and pick which hills to die on. Let's all hold hands and sing "Kumbyah," shall we?

But sometimes, you have to stand up for what you believe in. Occasionally, you have to throw a fit. And if that includes a crying jag in front of your bewildered boss, so be it. I'm a chick and we sometimes do that.

And every once in a while, it works. Perhaps they just wanted to shut me up, but this irrational, emotional chick got her way. Hill chosen. Victory tasted. At least until the next battle.

Thank you, Lord. How could I ask for more?

I've always been overly ambitious. Except for sports, at which I didn't excel and therefore deemed not important, I've always wanted to be the best. I'm driven, determined, competitive and motivated. If there was a club, I wanted to be president. I didn't want to be senior maid, I wanted to be homecoming queen (yeah, I was the maid). I was president of my class, president of FBLA, and yearbook editor. I was an anchor on our school TV station. People, I was destined for great things from birth. Let everyone else settle for medicority, I wanted the pinnacle. Success. Greatness. Legacy.

Because success begats happiness. And money. And prestige.

I am Lori, hear me roar.

One of the hard things about being an adult is figuring out I'm not great at everything. On my employee evaluations, I lose sleep over any rating not excellent. I don't want to be good, I want to be perfect!

But perfection is not only unattainable, it's fleeting. You can be the best one day and the worst the next. And you're only as good as your last task.

Work has been really, really hard these past few weeks. I've felt like a complete failure at times. And when you're a person who finds her worth in work, when you're not doing well there, the rest of your life seems somehow bad. It's not that I feel worthless, but I feel worth less than I used to.

This morning I got a major atittude adjustment compliments of God and the WorkMatters folks. Solomon didn't pray for success. He prayed for wisdom. God gave him both.

Lord, change my attitude! Help me remember what matters is preparing for the Kingdom, not being queen.

Because, at the end of the day, I have so much more than I deserve. So many old and new friends who fill my life with joy. Health. A job that affords me the essentials as well as my diva habits. And eternal life.

All I have needed His hand will provide. Great is His faithfulness indeed.

Hop, skip and a wait

As of 1:15 a.m. this morning, I'm back home. Man, yesterday was a L-O-N-G day. I woke up at 4:30 a.m., got dressed and checked out of the hotel, flew from Tulsa to Dallas, Dallas to Lubbock, got a rental, and had three hours to kill until the wedding. After a frantic cardigan search (because really, my arms are unattractive) and lunch at Olive Garden, I made it to the church.

I'm so happy I went to the wedding. Not only was it a great chance to see old friends (even some who live by me), the ceremony was gorgeous and very Brooke. Fun music, great clothes, and a candy buffet to fill up bags as our wedding favors. I can't believe Brooke's married! I've known that girl since she was a freshman in college. It does seem like three lifetimes ago that we met at the gym at 5:30 a.m. every morning. I have the arms to prove it!



After the reception I had a couple of more hours to kill, so I drove around dirt-filled west Texas (really... why do 215K people live in Lubbock?... see proof below) and utilized my GPS to find a scary gas station to fill up the rental with 1.22 gallons of gas (a cool $3 worth). My flight to Dallas was smooth, but after a three-hour layover and mediocre Mexican food in the airport, we sat on the tarmack in Big D for an hour. Thankfully it was my last flight, I had change for the tolls, and no checked luggage to wait on (or to pay for... that's quite a racket, American Airlines!).



Now I'm home, trying to sleep off exhaustion and looking forward to a day off tomorrow. No more Monday work days until July! Woo-hoo!

Smaller hips = smaller tips

Since I've been depriving myself all week, I decided it was time for a culinary treat this evening. So when I got to Tulsa, I drove to Macaroni Grill for dinner. And since I'm obsessed with tiramisu, I ordered the capellini for dinner to save calories for dessert.

Not only did my waiter allow my tea glass to go unrefilled for about ten minutes, he brought my ticket without offering me dessert. Yeah, smaller tip for that dude. (Thankfully my ticket did include an online survey request.... my lack of sugar will induce some serious payback, Macaroni Grill!)

So I did what any self-respecting dessert addict would do... I drove to the Cheesecake Factory and got some tiramisu cheesecake to go.

I did force myself to run two miles prior to eating it, but boy, oh boy, was it exceptional. Now I'm hanging at the Hilton, trying to get sleepy so that I can get enough shut eye before my 7 a.m. flight tomorrow.

Hope you had a fabulous Friday, folks!

Cleansing

Well the diet cleanse continues. I've logged more bathroom time this week than in the past month. But thank goodness for the SmartWater... I'm down eight pounds in three days! You know what that tells me? (a) it's mostly water weight; and (b) I've been eating some really bad stuff.

I've decided to break up with carbs for awhile, and it's been tough. Granted, it's not a complete break, but the girl who ate five bagels on Sunday is now piling on the protein and downing the fresh fruits and veggies. And tons of water.

Tomorrow's my last day of work before a three-day weekend, so I'm ready to get it over with and head to Tulsa. The good news? I had to trade in my dress for the wedding for a smaller size. Still a big size, but two sizes smaller than last summer. Woo-hoo! I may not be in a bikini by August, but at least I'm ready to start showing off my arms. Just bought a LBD for the big birthday party.

Reboot

You might have noticed fewer postings lately. That's partly because my life is boring and I'm lazy. But it's also because I'm having computer issues.

Hey, Justin Long, I'm a Mac and my computer crashes multiple times per day... so button up your cardigan and wipe that condescending grin off your face. Yeah, when I want to get on the Internet, I have to go into my home office (AKA fourth bedroom) and restart my modem, then reboot my computer, and then viola, I can actually get online. Safari stopped working weeks ago. I would wipe out my computer and start all over, but it would take me days to save my photos and music. Hopefully my super cool new work Mac with dual processors will arrive soon.

My life continues to be one big blur of travel. Today I was in Rogers, tomorrow Fort Smith, Siloam on Thursday, Friday in Tulsa, and Saturday in Lubbock. Thankfully I'm on vacation on Monday to recover from my travels. I had to burn some vacation, so I'm not working a five-day week until July. Hooray!

I'm also on a diet cleanse which essentially means a ton of water, minimal carbs, and a lot of time in the bathroom. But I dropped four pounds yesterday. Yeah, I know it was water weight, but still... I'd enlist the help of a voodoo witch to lose this last 25 pounds.

Only 24 days 'til my natal anniversary. Bought my gift yet? My awesome new friends are planning a party, which means that I won't have to sit at home alone again this year.

All for now. Gotta post before my computer crashes. Aaargh.