For those of you who don't know and even those of you who do... I'm moving to Long Island tomorrow... and this feels like the hardest thing I've ever done.  It feels like a death and I'm in mourning.  True I was not happy here and that's why I'm leaving but I am still feeling a really big sense of loss as there are people here that I am really going to miss and it's hard to leave them behind 

I know people move out of state all the time for jobs and things and especially after divorces even with a couple of children in tow and I know these people get through these things often by themselves perhaps with nothing behind it but true grit and people it IS TOUGH!!  The truth is, a state to state move by yourself is a traumatic thing that I never really fully anticipated and I'm sure have not even come close to fully anticipating yet as the move hasn't even happened yet.  All I know is in the one week leading up to the move I have gone through such a wide range of emotions.

When I came down here ten years ago (yes TEN years ago)  I never experienced the sadness/loss that I am experiencing now about leaving Long Island... probably because I was only there about 9 months after college and I didn't really feel like I had anything there at that time to leave behind.   I was more than happy to get away and another thing, I wasn't making my move to Maryland alone,  I was doing it with someone else.  I came down here with my college boyfriend way back when.   Also back then, everyone my age was making there way in the world and now everyone is pretty much settled and I feel like I'm starting over again at age 32.  

So I'm feeling pretty terrified and my life feels like a big fat question mark.    It's just pretty unsettling.  I have faith that a better life awaits me with beaches aplenty nearby... hated that there were no close beaches in Maryland! lol. 

So tomorrow is the big day... I am happy to be closer to my NY peeps and I will very sadly miss my dear Maryland or close enough to Maryland friends who were true to me and stuck by me when I needed them. I will not say goodbye because I am sure I will waste all my future vacation time on them : )    and of course there is always myspace...  thank god for that as you know I hate the phone.  

Also, to those of you who tried to see me before I went and whom I was not able to see, I just want to say I'm sorry for that too. Apparently I am a horrible packer. I thought I'd have all the time in the world this week, time to pack plus time to socialize.  Wrong. 

I love you guys…

XOXO Mist

That's why I'm still here!! Lol. At a certain Blacksmith's request, I decided to briefly relay my near death experience from last week.

All kidding aside, it was horrible and harrowing experience and the worst I've had to date.

On Friday, well early Saturday morning, at approximately 1:00 AM I was driving in the fast lane on I-95N in somewhat heavy rain. I was also talking on the phone to my friend Jessica who had been drinking wine and was only half-listening to me.

As it was dark and visibility was poor, out of seemingly nowhere I saw a completely stopped car in my lane just ahead, no flashers on, nothing... I screamed (phone went flying somewhere in the car), slammed on the brakes and immediately swerved to the right to avoid the car and then was horrified to find the driver standing in the next lane where I violently had to brake and swerve again, barely missing him! At that point, too much swerving mixed with the slick roads, I lost control of my car, did a 180 across three lanes, spiraled towards the median with my driver's side and braced myself for impact.

Amazingly I did not crash into the median but my relief was short-lived. My car flew back into the middle of the highway facing oncoming traffic and completely stalled. Ahead I saw many cars coming at me along with a tractor trailer barreling directly at me head on. I frantically tried to re-start my car and as I was panicking tried to start in drive rather than park. I regained my senses and switched into park but the car would still not start!. The tractor trailer was nearing and did not appear to see me because it was NOT slowing down at all. At this point, looking into the headlights of the tractor trailer, I thought This is IT. I'm going to die right here. Right now. But The MIST would not die. Not on this night. Amazingly this gargantuan beast swerved and avoided me at the last minute and I was finally able to start my car and get off the road where of course I proceeded to violently shake and cry before getting back on the road again.

So, in sum, I am grateful to be alive. Even though I have had a really awful year and I do mean an AWFUL YEAR, I am not ready to check out yet. I have faith that things will turn around for me and I have hopes and dreams that I will make come true even if it kills me! ; )

As for the rest of you, buckle up and drive safe. Please.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Gracia Duenas and I became friends in 9th grade gym class.  She took me on my first trip to Taco Bell with her younger brothers, Alberto and Mikey and giggled while I, being the picky eater that I have always been, tentatively took my first bite of a taco.

Senior year she often drove me home from school and we would blast Wreckz-N-Effect's, Rump Shaker as we peeled out of the school parking lot.

Gracia had a heart of gold, was loyal to the core and totally devoted to her friends and family.  Like me, she was silly and laughy and easily amused and we spent much of our time together just giggling nonsensically.

Gracia was healthy as can be until we went away to college.  I went away to school in Pennsylvania and she headed up to the University of Rochester to pursue a Nursing degree.  I believe it was during our Freshman year that she informed me that she was really sick and had been diagnosed with a rare form of Lupus which caused severe muscle aches and joint pain. It meant she had little energy and was always tired.  The medicines she took also had side effects which caused additional discomfort.

Gracia was in and out of the hospital so often that she had to leave Rochester and return home to Long Island to live with her family.  In spite of her frequent lupus flare ups and trips to the hospital, she enrolled in a local community college and continued her education.   

Despite different medications and treatments, Gracia continued to suffer through our college years and beyond. Although sometimes she seemed better, it seemed that before long, things would again take another turn for the worse.

Shortly after I graduated college, I moved to Maryland and regrettably I did not get to see her very much.  My trips home were usually brief and around the holidays and I had to divide my time between friends and family which left me little time.  I remember one time knowing I did not have much time, she drove to see me at my parents house for a couple hours.  I only found out later that she had taken a whole bunch of pain pills just to be able to hold the steering wheel in order to drive to my house.  But that's how she was.  She was amazing.

I remember another time when I was home for the holidays and I called her house only to find that she was back in the hospital.  I raced over there to see her and found her mom at her bedside.  Even though she was lying there in the hospital bed in pain, she still smiled at me and made a joke. That's how she was.   I remember watching the Nurse searching for a vein so she could take some blood from her arm.  I also remember, knowing full well what a pansy I am, turning my back and trying not to think about the pain she must be feeling. Unable to get those bad thoughts out of my head and feeling dizzy, I ran towards the door, just making it outside the room before passing out in the hallway.   Later I would tell Gracia, that some nurses found me on the floor in the hallway not knowing who I belonged to and wanted to check me in for observation.  Gracia loved this story and she giggled about it a lot.  Here she was the patient going through hell and being all strong, and I'm the pansy passed out in the hall.

About a year before she died, Gracia used to talk about how much she was suffering and that she very well might die and would make lists and talk about all the things she wanted to do before it happened. Not understanding the severity of her condition or maybe just not wanting to, I tried to reassure her and perhaps, myself, that she was NOT going to die anytime soon.  I honestly didn't believe it would happen.  I mean, I had zero experience with death and she was my friend and oh so young.  It  honestly didn't seem plausible to me. 

Not long after that conversation, Gracia emailed me pictures of herself doing one of those to do's on her list, skydiving!   She looked so happy and so alive in those pictures that I still just couldn't fathom that perhaps there was some validity to what she had been telling me.

Two weeks before she died, I saw her at my best friend's wedding shower in Long Island. I remember introducing her to my boyfriend who had also gone to school in Rochester and them bonding over their college days up there. I also remember she was wearing a yellow shirt that day and that she was her usual giggly self. I hugged her goodbye, never ever thinking it would be the last time I would talk to her.

The night before she died is a bit of a blur. Somehow, either her sister or her mom had gotten my cell phone number and contacted me that night letting me know that she was in the hospital and that she probably was not going to make it.  My boyfriend and I drove through the night to Long Island and I arrived at the hospital around 5:00 AM.  

When I arrived, she was unconscious. I held her hand and told her I was there with her... I don't know if she heard me but I did see a tear roll down her cheek.  Apparently she had caught an infection that her body was too weak to fight off.  Lupus had already worn down her immune system and she was not responding to medicine. Her family had made the difficult decision to take her off the machine. 

Once they disconnected her she began fading quickly.  I remember the sea of faces crowded around her bed praying in spanish and sobbing.  I remember standing there with this scene playing out in front of me and still not being able to fully process what was happening. It wasn't until her wake, when I stood up in front of everyone and tried to express how much she had meant to me that I broke down in tears.  Gracia was only 27 years old.

It has been five years today since she passed, and I consider myself blessed to have been a part of her life.  I will always remember her for her kindness, her strength and her dedication to her loved ones and... for her absolutely contagious giggle.  She truly was one of the kindest and best people I have ever known.  I know I am a better person for having known her.  

I love you and miss you Gracia. You will never be forgotten.

Yeah, so this guy just wrote me wanting to hang out and it just got me to thinking. Thinking lead to laughing and laughing lead to blogging. 

First off, I'm guessing this one is not going to be a hit amongst nice girls.

He entitled it "be very very quite... i'm huntin beavers"
 (no of course that was not a typo. lol.)

Further, I am going to say thumbs down (pun intended) to this:

and finally, you may want to take off your "vast uses of the word f*ck" video along with your letter to your Dear Friend, Beer (which everyone knows is just a forward and you weren't clever enough to write, anyway).

Of course, I'm only scratching the surface here... but this guy inspired me : )

It has been pretty quiet on the supermarket front lately...but tonight was like deja vu...

OLM (overseeing lesbian manager) asked me if I wanted that application for a Super Fresh card (which no, I still have not filled out in the 10 months or so since I first blogged about it) and a new creepy guy (absent the gold teeth) decided to follow me around the store in ever NOT SO subtle fashion and approach me while I was perusing the Valentine's Day card selection  (DUH) to ask me if I had a boyfriend.  "Yes." I replied ever so confidently clutching tightly to Exhibit A: sappy love card.  Brief awkward conversation ensued in which he asked if I was crying (???) and I said No and then he asked what I was doing (Hello Captain Obvious) and I said, "getting some cards" and that was that. 

The only new thing was OLM confiding in me that one day she is going to go postal and take a sledgehammer to all the computers in the store.  Why do I get the feeling I will be there that night? Otherwise, back to business as usual.

Preface:  It's late, I can't sleep. If you are looking for reading material addressing poignant life/society/cultural issues, turn back now.

So, after receiving yet another email from some guy named Mark, I got to thinking about my three Marks. For those of you who aren't familiar, I was unfortunate enough to have three boyfriends named Mark right in succession. Not to mention, I also had a roommate named Mark while dating the 2nd Mark. 

Furthermore, Marks continue to contact me... they seek me out!  Now, I know it's a common name but COME ON!  I will not date another Mark. I can't do it. I don't mean to be petty but I have reached quota.  Family members and friends will kill me if I bring another one into the mix.  Do you know how confusing it was and still is to ever talk about these people or tell a story that they are in. I always have to stop and describe the Mark and of course no one remembers their last names or what order they were in.  This is becoming less relevant as time goes on despite the fact that I am still  friends with the 2nd Mark, but that is why I MUST keep any future Marks at bay! 

Do I have a point? Maybe... maybe not... maybe it  is that I just don't understand guy names... there are like 6 of them:  Brian, Chris, Jason, Matt, Mike and of course, Mark.  It's not like this with girls names !  There are like 5 billion different girl names. Yes, they get weirder every year but at least they are unique!  

I know, I know, some guy named Mark or Brian is sitting out there wondering why a girl named "Misty" is sitting here randomly whining about THEIR name?  You probably have a dog named Misty, right? haha laugh is on me, right? Wrong.  I'm proud of my name. I like it. It may have a certain porn star quality to it but it is somewhat unique (although sadly much more common the further south you go or so I've learned).

Not much more to say here except, if you happen to be the expectant parent of a boy child, my suggestion would be to name him something cool and different, like...well like... Zoltar or something. 

From basking in the California rays merely one day earlier, to nervously fidgeting in a dentist chair in rainy Maryland.  It was tough. Not only was it hard to come back from vacation, but to return to a root canal was pure torture.

I was running late as it was but then I got lost.  To make matters worse, my car was acting up I wasnt sure Id make it to the appointment.  Part of me hoped I wouldnt. The thought of sitting in my car waiting for AAA, typically for several hours, was looking way more appealing than facing dental anguish. But alas, I made it.

As I entered the office, Elvis greeted me. And when I say Elvis, I mean his larger than life sized image. As I took in the rest of the office, I realized someone here had a rather unhealthy obsession with The King.  This rather unsettled me.

After a brief wait, I was taken back by the Endodontic Assistant (E.A). I didnt like her.  It wasnt anything I could put my finger on; I just got a bad vibe.

Enter Endodontic Specialist (E.S).  Word on the street was she was gentle and extra sensitive to people terrified of the dentist.  That would be me. E.S., a pretty young Asian woman, appeared to fit the part perfectly. E.S. showed me my teeth on a screen and explained what she was going to do to me not realizing I couldnt care less about the modus operandi. Lets get this party started, I thought.

So being the pansy that I am, I had opted for the nitrous despite the fact it was going to be an additional $145. E.A. put the mask on me. Breathe in through your nose they both instructed and moments later as I was not feeling any different, E.S. stated she could tell it was working.  How can you tell its working?  I asked curiously fearing she might start working on me when it was not in fact yet working. Stop talking! barked E.A. and then hurriedly rephrased with Well, if you have a question you can ask but the more you talk, the more you lose The more I talk the more I lose, what does THAT mean?  Its on my NOSE and I asked ONE question with my MOUTH lady.  I was right about E.A. I thought to myself.  I just meant I could tell the equipment was working E.S. finally responded.

E.S. informed me she would be leaving the room for a few minutes but assured me that E.A. would stay there with me.  My internal dialogue went something like this no, nice lady, please dont go and leave me alone with ornery assistant!  Perhaps E.A. sensed my anxiety and asked if I was okay.  I nodded my head at her afraid to open my mouth again lest she bitch slap me back into submission.

E.S. returned with needles. The gas was starting to work but I was still anxious when I spotted them. E.S. injected my mouth with several and I felt the pain. My hands were clenched into fists and I could almost sense them rolling their eyes. I cant help that Im high maintenanceIve had some unfavorable dental experiences.  For example, the time the guy read my chart upside down, numbed the wrong side of my mouth and then proceeded to laugh maniacally about it with his assistant as they sat on either side of me working on my teeth.  This was of course after I had warned the receptionist, the admin and the dentist himself how much I loathed and feared the impending needles.  Im sure they hate people like me so perhaps that was part of their enjoyment.

No sooner had E.S. started working on my teeth then she began dishing to E.A. about her recent trip to Epcot Center. Focus on the task at hand lady, I thought to myself. Teeth. MY Teeth! FOCUS!  She started doing something which apparently required that she press her finger down on my lip on the opposite side of my mouth.  It hurt a lot. She did it like 5 times.  A little pressure she repeated over and over.  Why should my lip have to suffer I thought. OWWWW so much for GENTLE. Then nothingness I was pretty out of it.  Nitrous is good stuff.

And then it was over.  Not too bad.  I survived my very first, hopefully last, root canal.  

As I paid at the desk with mouth numb, I watched the gyrating Elvis figurines and mustered a half smile before I walked out the door.

Okay, so Ive taken some pains on here to project a pretty decent image. Correct me if Im wrong, but Id say the closest I come to trashy is in my pouty pic and that is really pushing it.  Based on the emails, friend requests I continue to receive on a daily basis, I have come to realize that either one of two things is true

a) I'm actually not conveying the decent image I think I am or,

b) Scary MySpace Persons (SMSP's)  want to corrupt me

SMSPs, I ask you this: Do you know why my interests dont include gangbangs, masters and slaves or whips and chains?  Can you guess why I havent included pictures of myself spread eagle on my bed or a photo of my cleavage, so eloquently entitled boobs?  Why do you suppose it is that I dont have a picture of myself kneeling with my rear in the air and a suggestive look on my face?  

Now before I continue my diatribe, please keep in mind that this is what I consider to be scary.  This of course does not mean that all MySpace people think you are scary.  Im sure there are many people on here that will welcome you with open arms, legs, etc. Im just not one of them!

SMSPs far and wide, please clear this up for me why is it, when there are thousands, perhaps millions, of kinky, half-naked, desperate women on here just pleading for your attention, why must you bother with me?   Do you honestly think that a Little House on the Prairie Fan is going to hit you up at 3:30 in the morning for a good time?  On the off chance that you ARE reading this blog (which most SMSPs will not be doing) I refer you to my Who I do NOT want to meet section for further clarification.

Furthermore, if you are a SMSP and want to corrupt me, think again. If you dont consider yourself a SMSP, perhaps you should ask yourself these questions? 

Have you inquired as to whether I spit or swallow? 

Have you given me your cell and home phone numbers without ever having interacted with me?

Do you have at least one picture of yourself standing with your pants down and your pubes peeking out?

Do you hate God and love the Devil?

Have you begged to suck my toes?

Have you told me that you want some cream in your coffee?

Are you a male escort from Kentucky whose hobbies include sex, sex and did I mention sex

Are you convinced that based on my profile that I am your dream angel and everything youve ever wanted in a woman?

Do you and your husband and/or wife want me to be your sex toy? 

Are you a reformed thug?

Have you referred to me as hottie, sweetheart, baby, angel, creampuff or cupcake?

Does your entire email consist of something to the effect of You are hot, lets bang

Can you form an actual sentence  or does your email read something like

iwas gone na im u but idid not know how to appr u so i jus will lett u dec abou app me im a bizz ness ownen motor cyclesn stuff i lov my kidees n i know ho to treat a lady tha wants to be treateded like a ladey im glad im devo causei would not hav my kides n happy 443 XXX XXXX 410 XXX XXXX call me an we can talk se ya sweety 

Does your headline read: "JUST CUT OUR WRISTS LIKE SOUP COUPONS AND SAY THAT DEATH IS ON SALE TODAY, IM NOT A SLAVE TO A GOD THAT DOESN'T EXIST, I'M NOT A SLAVE TO A WORLD THAT DOESNT GIVE A SHIT!! NEXT MOTHERFUCKER'S GONNA GET MY METAL!" 

Does your online now read Evil Now? 

IN CLOSING, you are not scary but just plain annoying if you do the following:

You have no pictures of yourself or one microscopic one and write me asking if I have any more pictures? Have you looked at my profile?? I have like 10,000 pictures on there. How annoying are you?? Go away! 

You have actually taken a picture of a photograph and put it on MySpace. Get with the times!!

You are holding an alcoholic beverage in every SINGLE one of your 12 pictures. So you like to drink Great. We get it. Find a hobby!

You have 12 pictures of just you and only you.  I mean come on! You must know at least one other person who at one point in time posed with you in a picture. If not, rent a friend, family member, pet...something! 

Signing off

So after the gym tonight I headed to Super Fresh (SF).  Yes I avoided Shopper's (Mean Chinese Lady Cashier turf).   I tend to frequent Super Fresh more often then Shopper's since it's open 24 hours.

So, I'm doing my thing-- wheeling my cart quickly through the aisles in  "grocery zone" when this tall black guy I just wheeled past asks me if I need help.  I thank him but assure him I am fine and continue walking.  He starts yelling after me. I turn around and go back suspecting that he doesn't want to talk groceries but at the same time wanting to be polite.  He asks me if I have a boyfriend. I say Yes. He smiles at me. He has two gold teeth. He asks me where "my boyfriend" is. I say he's home sleeping. I turn and leave. I am a few steps towards freedom when he calls after me again. Silently cursing but again not wanting to be rude, I go back.  He asks me if I'm lying about having a boyfriend.  I mean COME ON--- take a hint buddy!   Keep in mind I am at the height of unattractiveness here. I am sweaty from the gym. My hair is in a matted bun on top of my head. I do not even look approachable. I just want to get my stuff and get out.  No, I tell him forcefully, I REALLY have one. I wonder if he can tell that I'm kind of lying. I've never been a good liar. Before he has time to ponder it, I swivel around and return to my cart heading towards check out.

Well the good thing about SF is that they have self-checkout and I am a pro at this. I don't even have to look up food codes, I know I can enter the 4 digit sticker on the fruit and it will come up. I'm good like that.  Of course there is a manager standing around to oversee but since I know what I'm doing, there really shouldn't have to be any interaction, right?  Wrong.  The overseeing manager at this hour is always the same woman--one whose mullet hairstyle and masculine demeanor suggest she is most definitely a lesbian.  We'll call her OLM (Overseeing Lesbian Manager).

So there I am checking my items out and I feel eyes on me. I turn and see Goldteeth staring at me from down the aisle. I start scanning my items faster and faster. 

The number on my SF discount card has faded therefore rather than scanning it, I have to enter the number by way of the keypad.  Well every single time this happens, OLM walks the 100 feet from her post to my register to ask me if I would like an application for a new card. It doesn't matter what else is going on in that store, when I get to the point where I am entering that card number she instinctively appears and asks me if I want that damn application!  Feeling Goldteeth's eyes still on me, I glance around for OLM, praying that she doesn't detain me any further when... WHAM, as if on cue, she appears. "Do you want me to get you that application?" she asks.

Now I don't want to be mean here because she is perfectly nice but she is beating a dead horse here!  I have turned her down for this application 10X now!  She knows exactly who I am because I am in that store once a week and am usually one of very few customers!   Initially it was sheer laziness that prevented me from filling out that form.  I don't know about you but when I go grocery shopping, especially late at night, I just want to get my stuff and go. I don't want to be bothered with paperwork!  I mean it's not like I am being insensitive here and making her do more work, because I am doing it!  I am checking out my entire order. She doesn't even have to do anything!  So now it is just the principal of the entire thing and I refuse to fill out that application!  

So I turned OLM down politely for the 11th time, took one last look around to make sure Goldteeth hadn't followed me and raced out of that store, groceries in tow.

Ah for the love of food...

So... reluctantly I returned to Shopper's last night after the gym. They are the only place I know of that has those 40% less fat tortilla chips I like. Since it was not near closing time, I figured I had a good shot of avoiding the skeezy manager who likes to check me out as I dash about in my spandex. 

After filling my cart, I made my way to the shortest check-out line. Only half paying attention, I began placing my green beans up on the conveyor when an irritated yet annoyingly familiar voice stopped me dead in my tracks..."We are NOT taking credit or debit cards in this store, ONLY cash!"  Without looking up, I knew who it was--- Mean Chinese Lady Cashier!  Ugh I thought... as panic set in and I eyed all my groceries... "Well... is there an ATM nearby?" I asked... She gestured towards the other end of the store. "Didn't you READ THE SIGN??" she barked at me.  "WHAT sign??" I asked, not even trying to hide my annoyance.  "It's at the front of the store when you walk in!"  Well, no I hadn't and I couldn't wait to see this sign either.

Once I returned from the ATM and watched her tell 2 more people who had joined the line about the situation, I suggested that she put a sign by the registers so she wouldn't have to repeat it to every person. "Well we are making announcements periodically too and again there is that SIGN in the front of the store!" she said in a snippy tone, obviously not pleased with my suggestion.  

After this exchange, I paid her the cash and started to bag my groceries.  Maybe she felt bad for being so mean because she did thank me for helping her to bag the groceries.  Instantly, I was not as mad at her. That's all it took.  One kind word.  Ah if people only realized just how easy it is to soften a situation.  Ironically, that annoyance would return approximately 30 seconds later when she felt the need to walk me out and point at the infamous sign she had referenced.  A sign made from a piece of cardboard with almost invisible writing in what looked to be red pencil. "See!" she said, gesturing at it smugly.

Sigh...I didn't even get my chips. They were out! Guess I will have to go back there again!