Risin' up!

Monday morning, when I had to scrape myself out of bed with a mental spatula, I realized that this very, very busy time at Corporate Behemoth needed a theme song. And that song was, of course, Eye of the Tiger.

I just have to power through. I have a gazillion things to do in a very brief time frame. Must stay focused. Must kick corporate ass. Eye of the Tiger, babee. Eye of the Tiger.

All week has been very Eye of the Tiger. And I'm discovering new depths of exhaustion. Because when you're all Eye of the Tiger, all day, every day? It's hard to shift to an 80s power ballad theme song of lesser energy and anxiety, like an Open Arms or even a Sister Christian. And when you're all Eye of the Tiger? You're like Chuck Norris. You don't sleep. You wait.

This week has reminded me of what it's like being a workaholic. There's adrenaline and you feel all self righteous ... except with working, there's no reason to feel self righteous. It's all an illusion.

Lil' Frankfurter is asleep, stretched out across my lap. And Foxie Doxie is curled up nearby. I'm going to be all crazylike and follow their example. I'm going to go to bed. At 10 p.m. Like normal people do.

Wish me luck.

Seriously?

Two things:

1. I went to lunch today with some awesome coworker / friends who were kind enough to take me out for a belated birthday lunch. While we were waiting to be seated, I heard my name, and so looked around like a spaced-out dork. Who would be calling my name but ... Ex-Ex.

He was sitting so close to where I was standing that it was impossible for me not to say hello. His hair is growing out, and he looks like a Q-Tip - not so much Bull from Night Court anymore.

"So," Ex-Ex asked. "Playing hookie again?"

Dude.

"Well, yes, if by 'playing hookie,' you mean 'going out for lunch to celebrate my birthday.'"

He was startled. My birthday is obviously not on his radar anymore. Good.

After a little more small talk, I joined my friends for tasty vittles. But tonight? Tonight I had this waiting in my inbox:

Cha Cha,

I am so, so sorry I totally spaced on your birthday. I hope it was a good one. Let me buy you a drink or six soon.

Happy 29th!

Ex-Ex

Seriously?

Dude. You totally phoned it in on every birthday I had in the seven years we were together. I would have to give myself pep talks in the bathroom mirror when I realized that the too-small, white, unlined sundress or the planter filled with stuff you grabbed on the way home was the full extent of my birthday gift - no engagement ring in sight. The last year we were together, we went to Chipotle for my birthday.

Chipotle. Seriously?

So, if you're feeling like you need to make up for all the birthdays you "missed?" The count's at 12. And by the way? I'm not 29. I'm 34. Because unlike some people? I am perfectly happy with who I am and where I am. Seriously.

2. Your friend and mine, drawer queen, sadly does not have any photographic evidence of the ensemble that inspired this dramatic haiku:
Envious laughter?
Purple zip front shorts jump suit
I made it myself

Seriously, that's a shame. A damned shame. But in her kind e-mail, drawer queen spoke of magical things - discount shopping with the goal of assembling the ugliest outfit for fame and free lunch! Fun times should I ever be in her fair city ...

Her fair city, which happens to be ... my fair city.

We live within walking distance of each other.

Seriously?

Holy shit!

And so, we shall plan the date I am most looking forward to in all of my many, many dates: The Blog Date! And I'm pretty sure drawer queen isn't hoping I'll put out, so that's a relief.

Seriously? The world is a fucking tiny place. I am so delighted.

Birthdays and haikus and embarassment, oh my!

I have learned an important life lesson, and I'd like to share it with you.

When you're all jet-laggy from a horrible business trip? And you drag yourself into work anyway? And then the next day you go out on a date and don't get to bed until 2? And then the day after that you go to a birthday sleepover extravaganza? And then the day after that you get up early and then pretend to be normal all day? And then the day after that is Monday and you realize at 7:15 a.m. that you have an appointment at your allergist - whose office is 25 minutes away - at 8 a.m.?

Yeah. The important life lesson is that all of that shit makes you really, really, really tired. And it makes you a really, really, really crappy blogger.

I have missed you all! Almost as much as I miss sleep!

My birthday was pretty low-key and pretty great. I have many kind, thoughtful friends. And I love the fact that my brother called me the day after my birthday, sang a song on my voicemail, and then realized mid-song that he wasn't sure if my actual birthday was that day or the day before. Poochie is infamous in our family for not remembering any birthdays ever, and he did not disappoint.

But what is disappointing is that it's taken me so long to highlight the fantastic "I'm so glad I'm not 13 anymore" haikus! Thank you to everyone who submitted a verse about their awkward adolescence. Here are some gems:

From the lovely Green Girl:
backstabbing, pretty,
two-faced, flattering, cunning
popular girls ruled

Mmm hmm. Girl, that is so true. Those bitches made my life hell. Laura Bailey, who would walk past me in the hall and say random stuff like "Nice pants, loser?" I'm looking at you.

Sweet Dorrie wrote:
Oh, to be thirteen
Acting like you are so cool
Knowing you are not...

Ohhh. I knew a lot of girls who were like this at 21, too.

Sister Three chimed in:
Why don't they see me
I have so much to offer
Please give me a chance

I happen to know Sister Three pretty well, and I will say that she does have a lot to offer. Also, she needs a blog.

My sweet friend You Gotta Wonder wrote about that all-too-awful part of ... blossoming:
From tomboy to girl
I go from stick to figure
Unwelcome changes

Confession: a girl in my gym class told a bunch of boys that I had the best boobs in 7th grade. I was mortified. I still am.

Husband of BFF even got into the action, although I'm pretty sure he's not interested in a Lurlene McDaniel novel:
Why am I so pissed?
Parents don't know anything
My life really sucks

I think the pissed part might be more of a guy 13-year-old thing, but I can certainly relate.

The amazing Magic27, who is herself a birthday girl today, wrote the truth about every 13-year-old girl:
Smallest in the class
Pathologically shy
Goddess deep inside

I really, really love the idea of 13-year-old girls being goddesses deep inside. And so, the fantastic prize pack goes to Magic27 - foreign postage be damned!

I do have a special award for drawer queen:
Envious laughter?
Purple zip front shorts jump suit
I made it myself

Yes, that laughter is envious. Very, very jealous. Drawer queen, if you send me a photo of this fashion-forward ensemble - and allow me to post it - I will knit you a scarf from the most gorgeous art yarn I just scored on etsy.com. I'm not kidding. E-mail me. Let's talk. At the very least, I want to go shopping with you in the hopes your sense of style will rub off.

Thank you all for reading, and for commenting, and for generally making my life better. Seriously.

Get your shit and get the eff out.

I am attempting to bake oatmeal cookies tonight.

It was a really, really bad idea.

I think I added too much flour. And of course I was attempting a double batch. So I threw some craisins in, hoping that would even things out a bit. And it didn't. And I'm so tired I don't even know if I care.

I'm tired because I got home at 2 a.m. this morning. My flight home from Boston took me through Milwaukee - which always makes me think of Alice Cooper in Wayne's World, being all "Mil-wau-KAY." Heh.

So, I had a stopover in MilwauKAY due to bad weather. We sat for an hour and a half. Then we taxied, basically doing donuts on the runway. Then it got really warm in the cabin, so they turned on the AC. Then the cabin got sort of ... smoky.

The plane taxied back to the gate, and one of the attendants got on the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're returned to the gate. As you may have noticed, when we turned on the air conditioning, a very, very small amount of white smoke filled the cabin. We'd like to get that checked out. At this time, we ask that you gather your belongings - JUST THE SMALL STUFF, DON'T GRAB THE BIG STUFF - and exit the plane AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. Thank you."

So much for grace under pressure. This woman was obviously freaking out.

So we deplaned. After about 20 minutes, they let us get back on the plane to grab, you know, the big stuff, and we were herded to another gate to await another plane. A plane that couldn't land on account of the weather.

Everything in the terminal was closed, including the nearest bathroom. And there was a long line in front of the two vending machines at the other end of the terminal. Oh, MilwauKAY - nobody loves me like you do. Except maybe Cleveland.

So, basically, my flight finally took off at 11:45 and there was crazy turbulence. When we finally landed, I found myself falling out like an old church lady. Oh, thank you, thank you, sweet eight-pound, five-ounce baby Jesus. Thank you.

Today, I am rocking my glasses, huge bags under my eyes, and a rather sour attitude. Since I'm not firing on all cylinders, I also completely spaced a meeting with my boss and evidently zombied my way through a good part of the day, as is evidenced by this e-mail:

Cha Cha-

Saw you at Chipotle today. How's it going?

Ex-Ex

Sonofbitchshit. Of course, the one day I look and feel like ass is the day I run into Ex-Ex. Of course, he recently shaved his head for charity and now looks like Bull from Night Court - which I know because he sent me a photo (Umm? Why?). So, a) no wonder I didn't recognize him in my delirium; and b) I probably shouldn't be the one worrying about looking like a dork.

I'm going to bed now. But first, I want to remind you to haiku it up for fun and fabulous prizes! Don't forget to submit your "Gee, I'm so glad I'm not 13 anymore" haiku for a chance to win prizes that I promise are even cooler than the Lurlene McDaniel book I mentioned. Seriously. Cool. Prizes.

I'm so tired. Ohmygod.

Two fun things.

1. Remember last year on 30 Rock when Liz wanted to "Flee to the Cleve?" She visited Cleveland and people stopped her on the street, saying she was so pretty that she must be model.

Yeah.

A coworker originally from Ohio shared this video today. Yes, it caused me to snort in a most unladylike fashion in front of a group of my coworkers.



2. My birthday is this weekend. I will no longer be a multiple of 11, which is obviously a real downer. However, since I'm turning 34, I realized that it will have been 21 years since I turned 13. Yahoo!

Obviously, this is cause for celebration, because being 13 sucks.

And you know what celebration means at Noodleroux. Yep, that's right. Another haiku contest!

Send me your haikus about the pain, frustration, humiliation and general glamour of being 13. All submissions must be in haiku format - three lines, with the first and last with five syllables, the middle line with seven. Like this:

Oh, permtasticness!
How you complemented my
Braces and glasses.

Yeah, you know I rocked that look. Hard core.

Make me laugh with your haiku and you'll find yourself in the running for a fabulous prize pack!

How fabulous is this prize pack? Well ... do you remember Lurlene McDaniel, famous author of every "I have a terminal disease / Someone I love died / I'm the victim of some sort of crime" book you ever bought at the Scholastic Book Fair?

Of course you do!

The winner of Cha Cha's 13 Never Again Haiku Extravaganza will receive a copy of Lurlene's Time to Let Go:

The doctors assure Erin Bennett and her parents that they can't find a physical cause for her headaches. But the throbbing, violent pain is so intense that Erin knows she needs help. Even landing the lead in the senior musical opposite David Devlin, the good-looking, popular guy everyone else is wild about, doesn't give Erin much pleasure. In fact, she finds David so annoying that her headaches are getting worse.

Erin knows that the headaches started just after the death of her younger sister, Amy, one year ago. She thought her grieving was over, but somehow the headaches must be connected to Amy. The therapist Erin starts seeing beings to help her deal with her pain, but what is it about David that triggers Erin's violent reaction?

I'm sorry, but you have to assume that I'll read this before I put together the fabulous prize pack. I have to know what's causing Erin's headaches.

The prize pack will also include some fun surprises. So, haiku early and haiku often! Please leave your haiku in the comments by midnight on Friday. Because haikus? Make the world a better place.

All I got.

I needed a break from all the dating. And so? So, I traveled to Boston on behalf of Corporate Behemoth.

Before I left the house, I dropped peanut butter down the middle of my shirt. I wiped it up with a wet paper towel, but didn't realize until I was in the car that the spot remained. Nice.

Got to the airport to find that my flight was delayed. By four hours.

But while standing in line for half an hour, I got to visiting with a guy in line. Turns out, he works for Corporate Behemoth, too! And since I got to the front of the line just as the airline had discovered a small, secret stash of tickets on another airline, we approached the counter together, along with two of his coworkers. We announced that we were traveling together, and all four of us got on the magic flight.

Huzzah. I felt like I had a posse. But mostly? Mostly, I had someone to talk to and eat with on the layover. The people of Corporate Behemoth are kind.

Sadly, they were going someplace totally different in Boston, so I just drove around for 20 minutes looking for my hotel. However, since I'm alone ... no one has to know that I got sort of lost. Shh.

And now I'm here. And I don't know if I've ever been so happy to see a hotel room in my life. I don't see how people travel for work all the time. It's exhausting.

After the lovin'.

So, umm? I sort of had five dates in five days. I took Friday off. I had two dates today.

Being nice and pretending to be normal? It is exhausting.

Wednesday: Mexican with The Guy Who Looks Like Dubya. I figured this would be a one-off, but he was funny. Like, he completely surprised me with his sense of humor. He is 11 years older than I am, which seems sort of weird, but I guess it isn't. We're planning to go out again.

Thursday: Second Chance Guy. Ugh.

Friday: A day of rest. As God intended.

Saturday: Dinner with Mr. Interwebnets. I like him very much. And he scares the holy living bejesus out of me. Because he really, really likes me, says he thanks God for bringing me into his life and told me that he had a date with someone else planned the day after our first date - and cancelled, based on our first date.

We had A Talk.

This is the first time I've dated as an adult. Because really? I've only really dated two whole men since I was 22. 22! I was practically an embryo. So, I know that it's important for me to meet numerous people and date different types of people and do it all on my terms. Intellectually, I know this.

But emotionally? Emotionally, I'm all, "Mr. Interwebnets is going to be so upset. I'm not (fill in the blank) enough for him. Sure, he acts like he really likes me, but if he really gets to know me, he's so not going to like me at all."

So, we had A Talk and I told him that I am dating other people and I'm terrified and I haven't really dated as an adult and I need to do this. He said it was hard to hear, but it didn't change the way he felt about me, and that I should do whatever I needed to do. And he'd date other people, too.

He was very kind. And I feel ... incredibly broken. The Ex-Boyfriend Formerly Known as Mr. Wonderful and Ex-Ex really did a number on me. And I'm still allowing it to impact me. I believe this is known as being gun shy.

Sunday: I met Guy With Dogs to walk his two large labradoodles. We walked about four miles, which was crazy - I can't even walk Lil' Frankfurter for one mile without having to carry him. But large dogs? I felt somewhat liberated ... and also like we should start some sort of hauling service to take advantage of their brute strength.

Guy With Dogs is very funny and has kind eyes. And? Well, he figured that Foxie Doxie and Lil' Frankfurter didn't have their act together for Mother's Day. So, he brought me two pink roses as a Mother's Day gift from my dogs.

We'll be going out again.

Sunday #2: So, a random guy e-mailed me on match and mentioned - among other things - that he was going to see Englebert Humperdink in concert. When I didn't freak out, he invited me to join him.

Now, what sort of blogger would I be if I declined a first date - really, a blind date - at an Englebert Humperdink show? I would be a giant disappointment of a blogger. And your consternation would just be too much to bear.

So, I met Mr. Englebert Fan at a local casino tonight. We bought tickets and then ate at the buffet. This was my first casino buffet experience. Was it worth $25 a person? No, I dare say it was not. Not at all. Maybe if we'd camped out for several hours and actually ingested more than $2.13 in food.

Sorry. I'm from Iowa. We can make a casserole out of lint and make it taste like prime rib. I'm just sayin'.

After getting robbed at the buffet, we went to the concert. Our boy Englebert? I gotta say - he's got it going on. He's 73 and still has a great voice. His show was very Vegas.

I had asked Mr. Englebert Fan if he was a casual fan or a big fan. He's assured me he was a casual fan and just interested in seeing a living legend. And yet? And yet, after every song, Mr. Englebert Fan stood up and screamed "Niiiiiiice!" Then, he sat down and fist-bumped me.

Yes. I got fist-bumped at an Englebert Humperdink concert. I'm not making this up.

I started sort of spacing off (sorry, Englebert), thinking about how my family would react if I showed up with Mr. Englebert Guy and acted as though he hung the moon. My folks are nice people, but surely they would notice that when he spoke, Mr. Englebert Guy rolled his eyes. Like, for emphasis. Like, on every sentence. And surely my parents would pick up on the vibe I had at dinner when I had the sudden realization that the evening would be a lot more fun if Mr. Englebert Fan was my gay pal and not a date, and with that turtleneck he was sporting, it really wasn't that far off, now was it?

And then Englebert sang "After the lovin'" and I returned to Earth.

After the show, Mr. Englebert Fan raved and went on and on and on about the show and the (I admit it's true) incredible talents of Mr. Humperdink. There was more fist-bumping.

Then, we parted ways. He went to the men's room in lieu of escorting me to my car in the casino parking lot. Safety first, Englebert fans!

I got a voicemail from him a few minutes ago. He realized that I left with his ticket stub, and he likes to save such things, so would I please hang on to it for him? Thanks.

The things I do for you people.

Image courtesy of Google Images.