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Cinpii
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Name: Cindy
Location: Los Angeles, California, United States
Birthday: 7/26/1980
Gender: Female
Interests: Anime. Fanfiction. Turtles. Drawf hamsters. Nintendo.
Expertise: Fangirling.
Occupation: Playing w/ money. Not my mone
Industry: Education
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
6/19/2004
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| You know what's awesome about today? It's marks the twelfth year that Gema and I have been together. Twelve years. It's hard for me to grasp it sometimes. Did time fly by or what? I still remember the exact moment I fell in love with him. We were walking back from picking up dinner and a car was driving a little too close. He just reached out so casually and pulled me in. So simple, right? But that was it. I don't know if other ppl fall in love in similar ways or not, but that did it for me. Do you guys recall the first moment you fell in love? Care to share? ^o^ | | |
| I am in despair because I killed one of the five trunks of my awesomely gorgeous money tree. The money tree that Gema gave me for Valentine's Day. The money tree that I placed right by my monitor so I could gaze at it every workday. The money tree that I would measure and delight over how fast it was growing. The money tree that I would breathe on and water very lovingly (alas, too lovingly, I must have over watered it).
 (pic purloined from here)
It started when I noticed that some of the leaves were yellowing, which was odd, since the rest of the tree was so vibrantly green and bushy. It made me think, "oh, must need more water." So I started watering it three times a week instead of two. But then more leaves turned yellow. Hmmm... looked into it more, and it was all due to one trunk. I noticed that the tip of the trunk was drier than the others, so I thought that could be why. I snipped off the dying leaves, hoping that then the plant could focus its energy on the healthy leaves.
But then more started yellowing. And when I studied it today, I noticed that the trunk was actually withering. Instead of feeling turgid, it felt the slightest bit mushy. It was rotting. Rotting!
After researching it for a bit online (not much help, btw), I did the only thing I could think of. I pruned off the dying trunk before it could affect the other four. I am really sad over this. I just hope it will be enough. The only good thing is that the rest of the plant is beautiful. Let's hope it stays that way.
Lesson learned: lay off the water. *sniffs* | | |
| Warning: TMI? Not for the squeamish.
Found a large roach at work this morning. It took me a few moments to come to terms with that because well, I wasn't expecting it (who expects roaches at work?). I was hoping that it was something else (perhaps a leaf), but I couldn't be sure. (Yes, I do need glasses. No, I don't wear them). So I had to come closer to peer at it for confirmation. Then I had to do it several more times because I didn't want to believe it. =P
It really was a roach. #^(@! I didn't want to take care of it but who else would if not me, right? I admit that I contemplated calling my coworker to the rescue, but I figured that she didn't need a nasty surprise either, so I handled it myself. It was lying on its back right in front of the ladies room. If it wasn't lying in such a high traffic area, I might have just let it be, but well, I use the ladies room, so I summoned all my gumption and went into battle. I took a broom and figured that I would sweep it out the back door. It shouldn't be too hard; the back door was only three yards away. Besides, it was dead. Except it wasn't. Cue the scream.
Ok, I exaggerate. Since I was at work, I only gasped a 'oh my god', but inside you can bet that I was screaming. It ran around a little bit before I managed to pin it down with the broom. Gasping and heart racing, I peered underneath the bristles, where it proceeded to flail its roachy legs at me. So I stabbed it. Peering again, I saw it lying there like the good little dead roach I wanted it to be, so I figured that did the trick.
Except it didn't.
As I tried to sweep it again, it would run around and I would have to stab it some more. This wouldn't have taken as long as it did except I was sweeping on carpet (increased drag) and I'm sure that all that cushiness was absorbing some of the impact of my stabs. But eventually I persevered and I won't lie about the utter content I felt as I watched it plunge to its squashy death (I hope) off the second story staircase. I also won't lie about the tiny bit of regret I felt at not stabbing it after I had it on the hard surface of the stairs, but oh well.
Cin: 1
Roach: 0
The end. I hope.
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| I tend to leave the fishtank early enough to give me ten minutes to get to the metro station. I was running a little late this morning, so I only had five minutes. I didn't get the chance to eat anything (which for me, is a small glass of choco soymilk, and if I'm lucky, a banana, a cookie, a hard boiled egg, or something else easy to carry, eat and finish within three blocks). So I'm running down the hallway to catch the elevator. As I passed by the other fishtanks in my building, I smelled oxtail. O.O The hunger pains hit me so hard. My stomach started growling and my mouth started to water. All of a sudden, I craved oxtail. Images of the stewed meat swam before my eyes. So savory. So delicious. Just gimme a bowl of rice and I'm good, I tell you. Heck, a bowl of rice and just the sauce is enough, that's how good it is. And then the jealousy hit. Some lucky bastard was eating their mamma's home cooked oxtail for breakfast! Damn, I remember when I used to eat mom's oxtail for breakfast. Augh! And the thing is, you can't get it in a restaurant. At least, of all the Chinese restaurants I've ever been in, I've never gotten it there. I've only ever eaten it at home. So then it hit me. Cin, learn how to cook it yourself. Then you can be that lucky bastard and have oxtail whenever you want. Bonus, Gema loves meat. If you learn how to cook it, he'll love you even more. Score! So yah... I am gonna learn how to cook oxtail! As for now, I'll just make do with this cup of strawberry yogurt. *sobs* | | |
| Caution: Once you read this, you can't unread this, so really think about it before you do!
Happy New Year, minna! Hope you all had a good one. I had an interesting holiday that I'll try to share later. Why? Because the topic for my first blog post of 2011 is just that awesome. Well, more like disgusting. But you guys like that, right? Right?
So I'm sitting on the train going to work this morning when this lady sits next to me. Asian. Mid 20s-30s. Slim figure. Long, straight hair. An unremarkable face; she wasn't attractive, but she wasn't dog ugly either. She was carrying a tote bag with yarn inside, and wearing a fugly parka that did nothing for her. For some reason, I don't sit next to many Asians, so I tend to notice them more. Anyways, I look to see who's sitting next to me, and try to go back to sleep. Except I couldn't. She did something so horrendous that I was too afraid to let down my guard.
She proceeded to take out a huge, almost empty tube of lotion (Avon Silicone Glove, what a yucky name), squeeze some into her palm, and apply it. It took all of two seconds before the smell hit me. Ok, first of all, don't put on lotion in an enclosed environment. Some ppl are allergic, yanno? Second of all, if you're gonna do it, at least have the decency to pick one that won't gas ppl out. But hey, I could over look it. It's winter, hands get dry. I get it. But then she proceeded to pick her nose. Pick her nose. I kid you not. At first I thought that maybe her nostrils were just itchy or irritated, but she was rooting around in there for over two train stops.
O.O
For over two train stops she continued to pick her nose! With all the hustle and bustle of ppl departing and boarding, all these new ppl who could potentially witness her, she just kept on picking her nose. I was so appalled that I couldn't take my usual nap. I didn't dare. I was too afraid that she might wipe it on me. *shivers* I just sat there, looking at her, looking away, looking at her, looking at the faces of the rest of the passengers looking at her, hoping they didn't think I was associated with her in any way, looking at her reflection in the window, looking at her, and looking away. She finally stopped and after ten minutes, I thought I could breathe easy. Alas, it was not to be. In between the last two stops, she proceeded to pick her nose again!
Throughout the whole time, I kept thinking that I should offer her a tissue. That way, I could politely let her know that what she was doing was not going unnoticed. Maybe then she would stop. But I didn't have any handy, and well, I felt so awkward that I couldn't face her. I was also contemplating leaving my seat, but the chances of her wiping it on me as I squeezed by was too great.
As we arrived at the last stop, she proceeded to (with both hands I might add), tuck her hair up and put on her parka hood, then tighten the drawstrings around her head as if she were going to face the blizzard that is winter in Southern California. As we rolled to a stop, she vacated her seat and took the empty one in front of us. Why she couldn't have spared me sooner, the world will never know.
I hope I never see her again. She made for a good blog post though. ;) | | |
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