It’s been a complete day since my mom called and she still hasn’t called back. I’m starting to wonder why the hell I even thought she was going to call back in the first place. So, I’m a little upset (actually it’s more than a little) and I’m keeping myself very busy so I don’t think about it.

Once again, I’ve finished up with all my orders (I still can’t believe how fast I’m working lately). My other appointments (ya, more than one) aren’t coming by until later so I’m going to take a Wii boxing break then completely clean our place and hit kitchen and make something scrumptious to eat. I really hate having to wait like this.

I was in the middle of having a very pleasant dream when my phone rang. Like usual, poor Indy almost jumped out of bed. I looked over and saw it was 4:30. I automatically knew it was someone from my family because they’re the only ones who don’t remember that time zones exists.

I answered and heard my mother on the other end of the line. At first I didn’t recognize her voice because I’ve gotten used to hearing her yell at me over the phone. This is the first time that she’s called in a non angry manner since their unexpected move. She said hi then stayed quiet for about two minutes. I was about to start dozing off when she said they were going on vacation later this week. Since she didn’t elaborate on it, I asked her where they were vacationing to. She stayed quiet for another minute or two and said LA right as I was drifting off to LaLa Land. I sat up when I heard this because I didn’t think I heard right. She stayed quiet again but this time I didn’t start dozing off. I asked her where they were going to stay and she said they weren’t sure yet. Another minute of silence. I knew I was probably going to regret saying it, but I asked if they wanted to stay at our place since we have a guest room. She said she was going to ask my dad and call back later. After about three minutes of silence (for a minute I thought she was asking my dad) she said goodbye and hung up.

As awkward as that conversation was, I was glad that (for once) she hadn’t called to yell at me and tell me how horrible of a daughter I am. I don’t know yet if they are staying here or how long they are staying yet. I’m trying to keep myself busy so I don’t really think about it much.

My parents coming to visit would be a really big step towards improving our fragile relationship. Hell, my mom’s non angry phone call was a big step. I’m really happy, excited, nervous, terrified, and nauseous at the same time just thinking about them coming to visit. Indy’s not nervous at all, and I’m completely jealous that I can’t feel the same way.

It’s been over a month and a half since we got the Wii at our housewarming party, and I finally set it up. Finally! Since I’m now doing my work at the speed of light (it feels like it because I can’t believe how quick I’m finishing everything), I finished all my pending orders (including the one I got yesterday, and the one I got this morning). I think my super quick, if you don’t move your fingers fast they’re going to get a hole in them, industrial sewing machine might be helping. Not to mention I’m finding all of this incredibly easy now.

Because I didn’t have another client coming in for a few hours, I decided to hook up the Wii. Let me just say that I completely regret not setting it up earlier because that thing is awesome. Of course, this means I have to stand in front of the giant crystal clear plasma that I’m scared of because it’s bigger than me and could kill me or leave me in a coma for a very long time if it falls on top of me (not to mention everything is really clear and it feels like something is going to come out of the TV and attack me). I know it sounds kind of dumb that I’m scared of it, but when you’re my size a giant plasma can be very dangerous (especially since I can be kind of clumsy sometimes).

I haven’t set up the Wii Fit yet, but I’ll probably do that tomorrow since I know nothing is going to pull me away from work once my client gets here.

I went to the store earlier today because we were out of breakfast making ingredients. On my way out, I saw a man that kind of looked like this:

Yes, I’m sure we all remember the little lad who loved berries and cream. The man at the store had pretty much the same face and hair. He even smiled like him. I started to wonder why on earth a business man (he was in a very expensive business suit and was carrying an even more expensive briefcase) would have such an interesting haircut like that. I’m sure that whatever his job was (kind of looked important from the general way he acted), the first thing his clients did was play the Starburst commercial in their head and picture him singing and doing a silly dance while in a funny outfit.

The whole way home, I couldn’t get the song out of my head and wondered why on earth anyone would be compelled to go on national television and do a silly dance while wearing a funny outfit.

If you now have the song stuck in your head and would like to see the little lad who loved berries and cream, feel free to click below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYX_zhlTDr8

I had a wonderful weekend get away filled with a lot of fun. There was only one thing that brought me down. Everywhere I looked, I saw families. It reminded me of my family, or lack there of (depending on the way you look at it). I had so many stories I wanted to share about my wacky shenanigans at Disneyland, but I just can’t do it because of what I found when I got home.

Yesterday, I got home feeling completely refreshed and ready to work my butt off again. I saw the answering machine blinking and pushed play. It said I had 13 new messages. Two were from clients wanting to switch their appointment times, and the rest… well, they were from my… delightful mother. All of them were from the day before, and each one got worse and worse.

I get it, they think I’m a horrible daughter. I wish there was something I could do to change their opinion, but I guess there isn’t. I’ve tried my best , and apparently it isn’t enough. It’s never enough. I’ve always been respectful of them, and I’ve never done anything really bad that I can think of that would make them think I was horrible. The only thing they hate me for is my choice in career (but lets face it, this is my calling).

I wish my parents would be a little more mindful of what they say because it’s really starting to get to me. I need to find a way to better our relationship (although I’m not sure it’s possible) because I don’t want it to be like this forever.

I got home from school and realized something. I’m so ahead of schedule with work that I can take today and tomorrow and Saturday off. I knew I felt like doing something, but what. Everything I thought of was pure genius, but for some reason I felt like that wasn’t quite what I wanted to do. I sat there thinking, and then, my phone rang. It was Indy calling me on his break. I took it as a sign. At that very moment I decided that I’M GOING TO DISNEYLAND!!!  (I've always wanted to shout that out)

It’s been about two months since I’ve gone and I need to put my season pass to good use. At first, I thought I should just go on a few rides today. Then I thought: why go on one ride when I can go on all. In fact, why come home when I can stay there and go again tomorrow. I didn’t tell Indy because 1.) he’s working, and 2.) I’m going to show up at the Indiana Jones ride and tell him: guess what, I packed our bags and we’re staying here for the night.

Since I didn’t know what hotel to book (since I’ve never actually stayed there the night), we’re hotel hopping to see which is best. Tonight, we stay at the Disney Paradise Pier Hotel. Tomorrow night, we stay at the Disneyland Grand California Hotel. Saturday night, we’re staying at the Disneyland Hotel. Since I’ve been working my cute butt off extra hard lately, I booked suits because 1.) I’ve worked really hard and can afford it, 2.) I’ve worked really hard and think I need to treat myself to a nice break, and 3.) regular hotel rooms make me feel crammed so I like the extra space you get from a suite. This is probably the most time off work I’ve gotten in quite some time.

I’m going to finish packing, and the first thing I’m going to do when I get there is go on Splash mountain because it’s really hot (and because the song from the ride is stuck in my head). There’s nothing like a mini unexpected spontaneous vacation.

The reason why precious coffee spilt all over my kitchen floor.

A while ago, I wrote about Sarah Jessica Parker’s creepy wart/mole, scary man arms, and horrible acting skills. If you don’t remember, this should refresh your memory.

I know, that left me traumatized too.

Earlier today, one of my classmates came over to work on a project. We were flipping through old magazines looking for pictures and she found a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker at the London premiere of the Sex and the City movie. Before I start ranting, I want to say I have absolutely nothing against Philip Treacy and his work. This is purely about Sarah Jessica Parker’s unfabulousness.

What‘s that thing coming out of her head? Is it a plant? Is it an alien? No, it’s a hat. This hat, believe it or not, is wearable… just not on Sarah Jessica Parker’s unattractive head.

My classmate glorified Sarah Jessica Parker and said she was the most fabulous person alive. I wanted to grab a roll of fabric and smack her over the head with it for saying such an absurd thing. First of all, that hat of her head should be considered a crime punishable only by death. Second of all, would it have killed her to wear shoes that actually matched. The purse matches the shoes, but are the shoes supposed to match the dots on the butterflies in her hat. She should’ve worn other shoes. Third of all, she should never have left her house without covering those terrifying arms of hers. Lastly, I have to agree with Cavutto and Peter Griffin, she looks like a foot. That’s not fabulous.

I’m not sure if I’m a workaholic. Of course, I have a major caffeine addiction, so I guess me being addicted to work isn’t that far fetched.

Since I’ve stopped working at the restaurant and started completely embracing my inner designer, I’ve been working nonstop. I know it’s probably not very healthy, but I love it. I love designing and making clothes. It truly is my passion. The only problem is that, on average, I’ve been spending about 12 hours a day working (9 hours on days I have school). I get a lot done when I work that hard. Yes, I don’t get as much sleep as I probably should be getting because I still have other things to do, but I can’t help it.

The harder I work, the more I get done. The more I get done, the more money I make. I really don’t need to be working this hard since I’m making more than enough money to pay for rent, bills, and other necessities, so I‘m not exactly sure why I‘m working so hard. Does it really seem like I’m turning (or already am) a workaholic because I’m having trouble believing it.

I wonder if they have rehab for this or workaholics anonymous because I probably should join. Since I highly doubt there is, I’m going to have to find a way to not work because I don’t want to work myself to death. That is why, on my honor, I am finally (I know I’ve been saying this) going to set up the Wii after I’m finished writing this. I have to do it because all work and no play might make Tina a bit loony.

I hit the jackpot!

Everyone’s playing on our slot machines, and no one has really won anything over $25. I haven’t really used it much, but I decided to put a quarter in it as I passed by. What happened? 843 quarters popped out. That’s $210.75. I know it’s really not that much money, but this is the most it’s given since we got them.

Indy just stood there with his mouth open as he watched in amazement. He’s been putting a few dozen quarters in each of those things every day since we set them up. The sound of the quarters falling was like music to my ears (mostly because I found it funny that I‘m the one that put the least amount of money in it). I’ve decided to put the quarter in a giant jar and display them for gloating purposes.

So, back to what I was originally going to write about before I hit the oh so wonderful jackpot that’s going to give me bragging rights for a while.

I’ve been getting better with my kenjutsu training, and I’m happy to announce that not once was I hit by the wooden sword yesterday. Of course, there were many close calls, and I didn’t really land any of my swings were they were supposed to, but at least I’m not getting completely bruised up like before. I’m glad because getting beat up by a little kid was embarrassing.

Besides my kenjutsu training, I’ve been really busy with work. At the Lord of the Rings wedding people’s engagement party, I got to meet all my potential clients. Honestly, I expected just a few people to request my services. I was wrong. I’m making everyone’s clothes for the wedding. The bride to be took me up on the stage where the band was playing and announced where I was going to be at so that everyone could come see me. I actually had a little station where everyone could come, get my business card, and set up an appointment. I was completely blown away.

So, here’s the grand total for the Lord of the Rings wedding:
3 outfits for the bride
3 outfits for the groom
41 elves (yes, they’re all planning on wearing prosthetic pointy ears)
29 humans
11 dwarfs (these people are somewhat short)
19 hobbits (five are little people and the rest are children)

Add them together and what do you get?
106 outfits.

Not everyone showed up to the party, but they called me and made an appointment. According to the bride, that’s everyone (at least I hope it is, because this is already a lot of work). I’ve met with three people already, and I’m meeting a fourth one today. I’m basically meeting one person a day for the next three months. So far, I almost have two of them done, and by the end of today, I know I’ll be done with the third. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed because it’s a lot of work, and I’m still going to be making clothes for my other clients. The good thing is that this is starting to get really easy for me and I’m working at a quicker pace so I’m getting things do pretty quick. The bad thing is that I’m turning into a bit of a workaholic. I can’t help it. I love what I’m doing, and I love that I get paid for it. To me, it’s the perfect job. I am definitely not regretting my decision to completely embrace this.

I guess you can say I’ve been pretty busy. So busy that I still haven’t set up the Wii.  Shame on me.   I think I’m going to that when I’m done writing this because I think it’ll do me good. I need it to distract me from working all the time.

I’ve been keeping myself super busy this week because I’ve been upset about my dad’s letter. I’ve been trying really hard not to admit it, but I’m hurt. In the past few days I’ve finished three dresses, a man’s business suit, two aprons to match my neon sign in the kitchen, a sweater, and a cute dress for me to wear at the Lord of the Rings wedding people’s engagement party tonight. I’ve also been giving a friend’s sister cooking lessons because she is a newlywed and has absolutely no idea how to cook. I’ve also been trying to get in as much time at Sensei’s place because I’m loving the Kenjutsu training (I’m finally blocking most of the swings so I’m not as bruised up as I was the first time I tried it) and because it‘s very peaceful there (except for when a crazy half Chinese half Japanese protégé of Sensei is coming at me with a wooden sword).  Besides all this, I've been working on the tons of school work my insane teachers have asigned (for some all my teachers this quarter don't have a nice gene in them).

I’ve been keeping really busy to avoid what I’m going to do right now, write my dad back. So far, this is what I have:

Dear Dad,
I got your letter. I’ve moved up one level so this is my new address.
Love,
Tina.

I’m not sure what else to write. I have a lot to say, but I’d rather not write it because I don’t want to ruin the progress they’ve made. So, that might be the only thing I write.

Besides the letter, something else I’m nervous about is the engagement party tonight. I have a hunch that I’m going to feel really out of place. Luckily, Indy is going with me so I won’t feel as uncomfortable. I’m also nervous because this is the first time I’m meeting so many potentially new clients at once. I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I guess I’m excited about it.

Before we go tonight, I am determined to set up the Wii. We’ve had it for two weeks now and I still haven’t had a chance to set it up. I think it’ll be a nice distraction because I have a tendency to overwork. Now that I’m working from home, I haven’t really had a chance to stop in a while.

I was walking to Starbucks to get my oh so delicious giant cup of Mocha Frapuccino with extra mocha and I encountered a very unusual smell. I looked around and found a giant pile of dog poop. It was on a little patch of grass right in front of Starbucks. The smell was so strong that it made me feel queasy and I wondered if I could handle my giant Mocha Frapuccino with extra mocha. I wasn’t the only one that felt this way. Indy no longer wanted a drink either, and I noticed a lady almost get to the door then turn around and leave with a disgusted look on her face.

This made me think about a few things.

Were all the dogs that contributed to this giant pile of poop really organized? If not, had someone scooped them into a pile? Had the Starbucks people even noticed this giant pile of poop? If they had, why hadn’t they cleaned it up because it was obviously grossing out customers? Had one of the Starbucks people scooped up the poop into the unusually organized pile of poop? How on earth did this pile get so big?

Indy and I agreed that maybe Starbucks wasn’t a good idea at the moment. Now I am coffee deprived and my body is asking for caffeine. We ran out of coffee, but Indy is getting some at the store right now. Damn you caffeine addiction! Damn you giant pile of dog poop!

Never have I had a hangover as bad as the one I had this weekend.

On Saturday, we had the Vegas night celebration at our place in celebration of me officially starting my own home business (hope I haven‘t confused you too much). Earlier that day, I had opened the angry letter from my dad. When I’m upset, I keep myself busy. I know it’s kind of weird, but that’s what I do. I kept myself busy by cooking (for a few hours) ridiculous amounts of food for the buffet. Depending on what I cook, I sometimes use wine to give it a bit of flavor. I wasn’t really paying attention, and when I grabbed a bottle of wine I just saw the number 8 on it. I assumed it said 2008, so I figured why not serve myself a glass or two of wine while I cooked.

When I was done cooking and it was time to get ready, I felt the vino. I didn’t pay much attention because I didn’t think the two glasses did much. To let it pass a bit, a decided to stick to virgin drinks for a while once the Vegas celebration started. I ate, played a few rounds of poker, tried my luck on our noisy slot machine, mingled, etc. During this time I had two sour apple martinis, a two strawberry margarita, a cosmopolitan and a piñ a colada (all virgin). I figured having so many and mixing them was no harm because they contained no alcohol.

Then came my friend’s speech/toast/rant. They opened up a bottle of the bubbly and I got a glass because I thought the vino’s effects were long over. It was a good speech/toast/rant, and the ending made me laugh because she turned to me and said it with a serious. “With great, power comes great responsibility.” If you don’t know where that’s from, shame on you for not watching Spiderman. After that, they made me reintroduce myself as Tina Marie, fashion designer.

About five minutes (and one and a half glasses of champagne) later, everyone started to notice that I was getting really… giggly. They thought it was unusual because, except for the champagne, I had only stuck to nonalcoholic drinks. They turned to one of my friends who was the bartender for the night. Apparently, he thought virgin drinks meant drinks containing slightly less alcohol than they normally do. I might has well have drank a giant long island iced tea or two. It was off to bed for me shortly after that.

When I woke up on Sunday, I had a really, Really, REALLY bad hangover. I felt seasick on land and my head felt like a balloon blown up to it‘s max about to be popped. Indy came to me and showed me the bottle of wine that I had been cooking with (and drinking from). It didn’t say 2008 on it. It said 1988. Big mistake.

I stayed in bed (except for when I was about to be sick) under my covers with the blinds closed and my pillow over my ears all day on Sunday. Surprisingly, I woke up yesterday and I still felt pretty much the same.

So what did I learn?

• Always double check the year on wine bottles, and have others double check.
• If you’re asking for a virgin drink, make sure the bartender know what that means.
• Mixing drinks isn’t the best idea in the world.
• With great power, comes great responsibility.
• Despite what scientists think, it is possible to feel seasick on land.

I was right, the envelope from my father contained an angry letter.

I got up early this morning and headed straight for my sewing machine. I wanted to finish up with a custom suit for one of my clients before I got carried away with cooking and preparing for tonight. When I finished, I walked past the table and saw the still unopened letter. I wasn’t planning on opening it. It just kind of happened. I thought I was being irrational by assuming it was an angry letter. To my not so pleasant surprise, my assumptions were right.

The moment I read the first line of the letter I wanted to burn it then throw the ashes into a box and FedEx it to the Bermuda Triangle so an extraterrestrial of some sort could pick it up and take it to a galaxy far far away. I know it’s a weird image, but I wanted that letter to be as far away from me as possible and no place on planet Earth or on the Milky Way was far enough.

“Tina, your inconsideration towards us is unforgivable and we are appalled by your outrageous behavior.” That is the exact first line of his letter. Who writes to their daughter like that? What outrageous behavior? What inconsideration? The only thing I’ve done is not call when I got back from New York. Scratch that. When I got back from New York, I called twice and when they didn’t answer that’s when I decided not to call anymore because they never answer. I called, but I didn’t leave a message. So, I guess me not leaving a message after they once again didn’t answer pissed them off. Why would I leave a message? Between the time they moved to New York and my visit to New York, I left dozens of messages and not once did they call me back. I believe that’s inconsideration.

Something else that I also found very inconsiderate was me coming home after taking my last final and finding them packing because they were moving to New York in four days. I found out they knew about their move for two whole months and not once did they bother telling me what was going on. I’m pretty sure if I had gone away for the weekend, I would’ve come home to find an empty house and a for sale sign on the lawn. Oh wait, there wouldn’t be a for sale sign on the lawn because they had already sold the house to a family friend a week before I even found out they were even moving.

I don’t understand why they’re so angry with me. I have every reason to be upset. I’m hurt damn it. I’ve been trying very hard to pretend I’m ok from my trip to New York, but I not. They all blame me for making my mom sick. Yes, at 5 lbs and 12 oz I used my magical voodoo powers and cursed my mom with postpartum depression. Even when we were finally having that conversation in New York, my dad still thought it was my fault. He didn’t say he had a hard time warming up to me because my mom was sick, instead he said he had a hard time warming up to me because I made her sick. I can deal with the fact that she was sick, but I’m having a really hard time dealing with the fact that they all blame me for her getting sick. And I’m no even going to bother thinking about the other issue with me being born that they revealed because that will probably make me incredibly depressed.

This whole thing is making my head spin. By the time I finished reading my dad’s letter I felt like I had just survived a nuclear bomb inside of a refrigerator (kind of like Indiana Jones). I was relieved the letter was over, and I was surprised I hadn’t been disintegrated.

It took me a few moments to recover from the explosion (figuratively speaking of course), but I realized this letter is progress. Yes, it was an angry letter, but he had actually taken the time to write it and send it to me. Call me crazy, but I believe that’s progress. An angry letter is better than no contact at all (like my mom’s angry phone call last week).

I think I’m going to write back in a few days. It’s not going to be an angry letter. I’m going to inform them that I have moved up one floor and they have the wrong address and home phone number. I’m not sure what else to write yet (or if I’m going to write anything else), but I’m not going to write anything that could ruin the progress they have made.

Now I’m in a gloomy mood and I’m probably going to have a hard time enjoying the Vegas night celebration tonight, but I’ll do my best. The only thing left to do is cook because everything else is ready to go.

I can’t believe it. After tonight, I will no longer be waiting tables. I’m going to be going into business on my own. I feel like I should be feeling terrified, but I’m not for some reason (if that makes any sense). This feels like this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Hopefully, I won’t fall on my ass and do horribly (fingers crossed).

We were going to celebrate tonight, but we switched it to tomorrow instead because I get out of work kind of late and we don’t have everything set up. Everyone is going to get all dressed up and we’re going to have a good old fashioned Vegas night here at our place. We still haven’t set up the slot machines (but I think Indy is working on that right now), and the poker table is going to get pulled out tomorrow morning. I decided there’s going to be a buffet because I love the buffets in Vegas (and because I was very indecisive about what to cook so I figured I might as well cook a bunch of everything).

There’s no going to be too many people (just a few close friends) because I don’t want to feel crammed in here like last week for our house warming party.  Fuckety shit what was that noise? … I’m assuming the slot machine is operational because that’s what it sounded like… and apparently Indy won a quarter… and he’s ecstatic… which reminds me I have to go to the bank and get a whole bunch of roles of quarters… why is he so excited? It’s a quarter. He put in a quarter and the quarter he won was probably the quarter he had just put in… unless there were already other quarters in there… now I want to open it up and see.

Yes, I am finally getting business cards.

Last night, the Lord of the Ring wedding couple pointed something out to me. Their engagement party is next weekend, and I need to get business cards so the Middle Earthlings attending their wedding can contact me. I’m going and meeting a lot of the people next week at their party, but writing my name down on a piece of paper does seem tiring.

Up until this point, I’ve avoided getting business because I didn’t want to overload myself with work. Now that I’m almost done with working at the restaurant and I’m completely embracing this business, I think It’s time to get them.

I have a problem. When I came back from New York, I decided I was going to change my last name for various reasons. I still haven’t found the perfect last name, so I’ve decided (for now) to just drop the last name on the cards. I haven’t made up my mind about whether to put Tina (just my first name) or Tina Marie (my first and middle name) on the cards. I don’t know what sounds better. The guy that’s doing them for me told me that if I come to him by Monday with what I want, he can the spiffy cards done by Wednesday.

Now that I’ve contemplated my name for a while and still got nowhere, I think I should contemplate about whether or not to open the letter from my dad (aka: the other plunge I was alluding to). It is still sitting on my table and I’m scared to touch it because the image of an exploding envelope keeps popping into my head every time I get near it. I know my dad wouldn’t send me an exploding envelope, but you never can be too careful.

I know I’m postponing the inevitable opening of the letter, but I just don’t think I’m ready. The new delightful summer quarter started today and I wasn’t prepared for it. The break was way too short, and having an old grumpy lady breathe down my back for three hours wasn’t exactly fun. Tomorrow is my last day of work at the restaurant (technically my last day is Saturday but I have the day off so I don’t think it counts) and opening the ominous envelope might ruin it for me. Maybe I’ll be ready to open it on Saturday.

I finished putting all the new things in my kitchen (pots, pans, neon sign, incredibly annoying coo coo clock, etc.) and realized our fridge was almost empty. I made a list and went to the store. When I got back, the guy at the front desk in the lobby told me that an envelope had come for me yesterday in the mail but that it had been delivered to my old apartment so the lady now living there gave it to him. I was carrying a lot of bags, so I told him to just stick it in my purse.

I didn’t remember about the envelope until after I finished putting away all the food. When I took it out of my purse I was shocked by what I saw. It was from White & Case in New York, the law firm my father works for. I didn’t open it and it’s still on the table. I’m not sure I want to do with it. Part of me wants to put it through a shredder or throw it into an open flame because I am absolutely terrified of what might be in there. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be an angry letter scolding me for not calling them since I got back to LA (even though they didn’t contact me at all after they moved to New York). I don’t want this to be a repeat of my mom’s angry 4:30 in the morning phone call a few days ago.

I’m trying my best to view this letter the way I viewed my mother’s angry phone call: progress. Yes, this probably is an angry letter, but an angry letter is progress from no contact at all.  I really want my very delicate relationship with my parents to improve, so I have to be careful about how I view these things.

I don’t think I’m ready to open it, but I’m going to do my best not to put this off to long.