1. Don't call when they say will
2. Forget birthdays. ( I don't really care about "anniversaries", but I do care about birthdays!)
3. Forget to say "Thank You".
4. Talk about other women in the presence of the woman who's company they are in.
5. Ignore you when they have someone "better" aka: sluttier/ easier, won't leave you alone when they don't
6. Get sloppy drunk and then try to make out with you (Yuk! Gross slobbery kisses, BLech!)
7. Get pissy when you don't want to see them and would rather be with your friends. (although, to be fair, women do that too. I think that might just be human nature.)

I know that this isn't true for everyone, and I know other people have a far, far longer list. This is just the pet-peeves that come up off the top of my head. Off to write a two page paper. Adios muchachos!

Thank you, Dr. Chlorine, I now have "Hollaback Girl" stuck in my head! As if I don't have enough problems! Off to read. I have gads of homework. No time like the present. Outie.

And so it goes and so it goes. Jason, my dear, you are far too cynical for your own good. I think that you'd be surprised to find that most women would find the idea of that reality show as totally and utterly abhorant. I know I do. Personally, I'm rooting for the prostitutes.

I just spent $52 on 7 books, not bad really, but it's the fact that it's the first 7 out of 11 for just one class that's really bothering me. I have to take this class, or rather an upper level English that's at night, and what's more is that I have to do well. Well for me is a B or over. I have roughly a novel a week to read, two papers, miscellanious creative writing assignments, and a final exam. And this is just the *UNDERGRAD* class! I have 4, yes, count them FOUR, grad. classes.

I shall try to stop whining about it but I don't know if I'll be able. God give me strength to not have a nervous breakdown and to do *Well*! Outie.

So... who's up for meeting out for a few drinks next Friday?

Yesterday, I spent a very pleasant day with my very dear, very pregnant friend, Mrs. Trisha. I had had a class for work downtown at HSBC Tower and after I was finished, I took a drive down Elmwood and over to the Lehnens' new residence. It was so good to be in the city, doing city things. I do love living in the country, but I really love the city and I miss it. It's only been a month of living in the country, but I already miss the convenience of being fifteen minutes from my friends, my church, Delaware Park, etc, etc, etc... So, Trisha and I were on a hunt for a present for her dear husband's birthday, which is today. We tried Talking Leaves, where we got roped into a discussion about ultra- conservative Christian parents trying to tell a teacher what books the students could read. After that, we journeyed down to New World, where I bought an Ella Fitzgerald/ Louis Armstrong c.d. I put it on my credit card which I probably shouldn't have but, seriously, I feel like it was the missing piece in my c.d. collection. It makes me really happy! Then, Trisha and I headed over to Spot, where we saw her old friend, Marc, and then as we sat on their patio, we spotted none other than E-strip's own, Terry! It was good to chat with him for a bit before he headed off to T.K.'s. All in all, it was a lovely evening on the Elmwood Strip.

Is it wrong to have a "list" of the traits that a person is looking for in someone else? I have one. I know most people do, I just think that they're too embarrassed to admit it, much less tell everyone what that list is. And I really don't think that my list is so wholy unattainable, nor unreasonable. Maybe it is stupid and shallow, but I have learned that the universe gives you what you ask for and that specificity is a must because the universe has one hell of a twisted sense of humour. But, I do think that flexibility is necessary. You have to be able to say to yourself, "Well, he's got this, that, and the other, which is important, and I can live with factor X..." be whatever "this, that, and the other" and "factor X" are.

My personal list is as follows:

Kind; considerate; mannered; good sense of humour: believe in some sort of God, Deity, Great Spirit- preferrably Judeo- Christian (not required) - extra points for fellow Episcopalians; intelligent; likes children, wants to have them, currently does not have kids (I don't want to deal with baby-mama drama!); similar taste in music and movies- but does not have to have the SAME taste; handy (would be nice, not required); have a good job; attractive to me- I don't care if anyone else thinks he cute, as long as I want to make out with him; not gay (you'd be surprised! Then again, maybe you wouldn't.); preferrably liberal- should be required, but really not.

I think that's about it. Does my list *Really* seem that unreasonable? I don't think so, but then again, it is mine so my opinion is probably skewed. Oh well.

So this week's feature in ArtVoice is all about Bethlehem Steel and how about practically everyone that worked for Bethlehem Steel died from cancer. I spent the first eight years of my life in Bethlehem Park, a small little cul de sac in the first ward of Lackawanna that's surrounded by the old steel plant. My dad spent over half his life there and my grandmother spent all of her life there. To my knowledge, my grandparents are about the only people to have lived in the Park and not have died from cancer. (My grandfather had 15, yes 15, strokes and my grandmother died from a heart attack.) It's a neighbourhood, built pretty much by Bethlehem Steel for their workers and at least three generations grew up in the shadow of those ugly buildings. The house I lived in as a young child was in the back of the Park, down by the bocce courts and the rail road tracks. Behind us was this big empty building known as the Foundary. I never knew what used to go on in the foundary when I was a little girl, it was just old and there and hovering over us like some oppressive warden or something. My mother told me a story of when I was little and it started to rain and the laundry ws drying on the line, so she quick ran out in her bare feet to fetch it in and the bottoms of her feet felt like they were on fire. Two women that lived in that same house, our old landlord's wife, and the present owner's wife, both died from cancer. Jean was in her early 50's. Kimmy was 41, maybe 42. Kimmy spent her entire life in that neighbourhood.

I remember my grandmother and her siblings talking about how when the Steel Plant was in full swing, whenever the smoke stacks would open up, women would literally run to bring the laundry in and make sure the kids were in the house because otherwise everything would have been ruined by whatever smoke would be coming out of the stacks. My dad's uncle through marriage told me and my brothers a story about when he had bought a brand new powder blue car in the 60's and it was parked in the lot at Lackawanna High School. The first day he had it, they opened the stacks at the Steel Plant, the wind changed direction and the dust that deposited on his car was a red, rusty dust. After work that day, he went out and used his hand to brush off the car and the rusty dust had eaten through the top of the paint.

And every day since around 1900, people were breathing that in! It was in their food because everyone in the Park had gardens and grew and canned as much of their own as they could. It was in their clothes, in their water, it was everywhere.

The article talks about how it affected the workers and that is so very true, but that's not all that that beast affected. And it's still there, all of the "Hot Spots", all of the grossly contaminated places and in the name of the almighty dollar and Big Business, the Bethlehem Steel Corporation effectively condemned generations.

Is "Beautiful" by Joydrop.

"If I was beautiful like you
All the things I would do
Those not so blessed would be crying out murder
and I'd just laugh and get away with it to
Like you do.

If I was beautiful like you
I would never be at fault.
I'd walk in the rain between the rain drops
Bringing traffic to a halt.

But that will never be
'Cuz I'm not beautiful like you.
I'M BEAUTIFUL LIKE ME!..."

Okay that's half of the song lyrics. For those of you that don't know it, it's totally badass and you need to go find it. For those of you that do know it- kudos to you! Yes, yes. I'm Beautiful like me! And that is the most important sentiment of the day. At least for me.

Sometimes, it's amazing how a conversation with one's best friend tends to make one feel much, much better. I realized the last time that I was in a dangerously low place that I am the one the does it to me, no one else is to blame. It's me and the thoughts that once they get started, don't seem to be able to stop, and it snow balls and then I'm in a really ugly place. That didn't happen this time because I am learning. It's all about me. I am the cause of my own happiness and own sadness, well, maybe not *ALL* of my sadness, but a good chunk of it is in my control. Which is nice as a control freak who understands that control is just an illusion, at least with something like that, I know I can control it. Or at least ride it out. So for all of you who cared and wrote me lovely little encouraging notes, Thank You! ever so much! Today, I am a much better me! :)

Well, I have not slipped into listening to Portishead yet, which is good. I think the weather is reflecting my mood. And honestly, I'm probably just moody from being run down. I'm tired. I want to sleep and dare not yet as I will just get up in a couple of hours and then be up all night which is not good. I want to be crafty and do things but at the same time I just can't be bothered. I want to talk to my friends but then I will have to explain things, tell them things, which I won't do if I don't talk to them, and, again, I just can't be bothered.

Friends with benefits, that's what I need. Actually, it's sort of what I'm looking for and what I haven't found and that, quite honestly, is a part of my funk- along with tiredness and confusion and too much change far too fast and just life in general. I'm coming down with some sort of throat infection. I can feel it. My throat is always the first body part to get taken down by germs. Time for homeopathy, I think. I just can't be bothered. I think I kind of enjoy the scratchy irritation as it reminds me that I'm still alive and it makes me appreciate my voice which I only ever seem to appreciate when it's in jeopardy. When I can't sing, I'm a basket case. I think that's all for now. I need to get out of my head- stop thinking How does one really do that? I certainly don't know.