Idle Time

Well, the semester has finally settled down. Everyone's bill is paid or in the process of being paid. Or they've been tossed for non-payment or non-attendance. And, even though spring bills will be hitting the streets in just three weeks, spring is generally much easier on me as far as current students than fall. We only get a few new or transfer students who will be clueless about financial aid and that's nothing compared to the hell I've just been through for fall. Recruitment season for next fall has, of course, begun; however, the real student aid push won't begin until January. So, right now, the toughest part of my job is the community financial aid nights I have scheduled at local high schools from now until Christmas break. Piece of cake compared to the other 10 1/2 months out of the year. Which, if you've been paying attention to this blog thing of mine, gives me plenty of time to think. Always a dangerous proposition.

• I am happy to report that my butt is now a size 4 or 6, depending on what clothing manufacturer is measuring. In fact, as far as Levi's goes, there is no size available in their Dockers for someone like me. At least in local stores, anyway. I recently took all of my mostly expensive work pants to a seamstress, who tailored them from my old, fat self to my new, slim self. She told me that she took them all in at least two sizes and that it still left some room in case I regained a few pounds. But I didn't see the point of paying to tailor the khakis we're allowed to wear for business casual and weekend events. I reasoned I could buy new ones, although I never actually did. I just went around in my baggy old ones, using strategic belting techniques to keep them up. But a rather large campus event with many important guests was held last weekend, prompting me to finally bust loose and buy new khakis, mainly so I wouldn't be mistaken for a homeless person crashing the party for the free food. Determined to spend some cash, I went off to hit the mall and it's environs. And found out that, to my surprise, no one in Beaver County wears anything in a misses size of less than a 6. And none of the khakis in a size 6 fit. After several hours of frustration, I finally took myself into the juniors section of Boscov's. Now, I haven't been able to wear a junior's size since I was about 25. But I needed something for the big bash. So I reasoned that perhaps some of the larger sizes in juniors would fit my slimmer, but womanly, booty. I grabbed an 11 and a 9 to try on. Shockingly, both were much too large, even though they were slim cut. So I grabbed the same ones in a 7 and a 5. Well, what do you know? The 5s fit me like a glove. I mean, I looked totally smokin' in them. But I ended up buying the 7s. Because even though I'm slim enough to pass for a younger woman, I'm old enough to know it can't last forever.
• I'm getting mighty frustrated with men my age. I know, I know, I've spent months singing the praises of young studs. And they do have their charms, I must say. But I'd actually like to have some sort of relationship with someone other than the one we have in bed. No big commitment or falling in love or anything like that. Just someone who wants to do something other than fuck, fuck, fuck. Like maybe have an intelligent conversation about current events. Or the current coaching of the Steelers. Or the amazing start to the season our young Penguins are having. Or the upcoming Pitt basketball season. Or the book I'm reading about Lincoln's cabinet. There are loads of single (divorced, separated, whatever) men in between the ages of 40-50 out there. I know that. So why don't any of them ask me out? I'm smart. I like to have fun, mostly in male-friendly ways. I know sports. I have few wrinkles and am, in fact, often mistaken for 5-10 years younger for that reason. My body is in fabulous shape. I have a good job. I don't have children. So what the fuck is wrong with me?????? I'm told that some men (okay, a lot of men) are intimidated by me. Personally, I think the hair just throws them off. Because the young ones seem to not be intimidated in any way. They just keep buzzing around, no matter what I do to discourage them. So...are all the men in my age range just pussies? Or is there something wrong with me?
• I'm completely jealous of Carey's 4oth birthday celebration. I wish I could have a party like that for mine this year. Of course, it's closer to 50 than 40, but I haven't had a celebration, or even wanted one, since my 40th. And I'd love to have some of my cyberfriends around to help me celebrate. Just in case anyone is interested, my birthday is the day after Thanksgiving this year. Just sayin'.
• My formerly expansive lifestyle has now shrunk to the point that I can no longer afford my Brazilian waxes. And I'm sick to death of not only trying to shave that area every single day, but of how badly I do it. So, seeing a relatively inexpensive home waxing kit with the word "spa" in the name (I mean, I got my Brazilian waxes in a spa, so it works, right?) at the Bath and Body Works, I bought it. But I do not yet have the courage to do it. Not to mention, I haven't figured out the logistics. I'm a little worried about hot wax in proximity to my clitoris while I try to apply it using the mirror method of viewing myself that I first learned in "Our Bodies, Ourselves." And I don't think any of my girlfriends would help me because that would be too weird. And I'd never, ever, ever trust a man to do it. On second thought, maybe I would trust a man to do it. But none of the men I've ever actually met, that's for sure.
• I don't care what that hooker has to say about his bedroom technique, I want to fuck Keith Olbermann.