Sunday, June 24, 2007


I am down three pounds. I can't believe it. I actually lost weight. And, I feel great.

I just wanted to post that before leaving. I promised Geradine that I would go to church with her today. I am really looking forward to it. I haven't been invited anywhere by anyone excite Joie for the last ten years. Plus, I like Geradine. She is nice.

My mom called yesterday to remind me again what a disappointment I am to her and Dad. Why can't they accept the fact that had only one Joie. I can't be a younger replica of their most prized daughter. I can only be me. Why can't that be enough?

I know that I am not married. I know that I don't have kids. I know that I am over 30. I don't need constant reminders of this. She acts like its my life long goal to be alone for the rest of my life.

Friday, June 22, 2007

I'm an Idiot

Yesterday sucked. After a terrible day at work and dealing with my most difficult client to date, I got stuck in the freakin' elevator with Jackson. I have never had a problem with sweating, but I was pouring more than Whitney Houston in that place. My hair was drenched, my clothes soaked and sticking to me, and I can probably imagine the odors that were radiating off me. I have never been so embarrassed in my life.

Jackson was great. He kept trying to make comfortable conversation to get me to loosen up and relaxed. I know he was probably silently praying to be let out of that darn elevator before I drown us both with my sweat. But, he never took those eyes off me and he even smiled at me a couple of times. Just when I was about to really freak out, he reached out and ran his hand down my heavily perspired arm and assured me that everything would be okay.

I don't know what it is about that man that sends my hormones into overload. Every time I see him, my heart skips a beat and break all at the same time. I know that I will never have a man like Jackson. I know that I will never have Jackson, but sometimes, it feels good to just imagine. I am a prisoner of hope and a casualty of disappointment. I am simply a mess.

We were stuck in the elevator for about 10 minutes but it was the longest 10 minutes in my life. Afterwards, he drove me home and actually told me that I did great today. Is he on drugs? I completely freaked and came loose at the seams. But, it was nice of him to lie to me.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Over The Hump

Yesterday was the first day of my diet. I think it was the hardest thing that I've ever done. I found this website, and decided to follow the rice diet. Although, I haven't eaten anything that wasn't fried or covered in chocolate since college, the diet part wasn't the hardest part for me. It was the exercise. Walking up the stairs to the train is about the only assertion that I participate in.

Anyway, I have one day under my belt. Let's see if I can handle the long haul.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Friday Night

Okay, I'm back. Had to run and update my boss on a project. You know how it is.

Anyway, Friday night; I'm at home, settled in for a night of pizza and 'idiot' television when my sister calls me. She was having some function that I totally forgot about and wasn't really interested in going to tell the truth. But, I allowed her to talk me into it. That wasn't the worst part.

She was sending a ride for me. I know what you are thinking, "good, you get chauffeured out to the suburbs to hobnob with the well-off. It must be nice to have a sister who would do that for you. You must be so happy." WRONG! She sent John-Freakin-Whitmore. You may have heard of him; quarterback of the Chicago Bears and playboy extraordinaire.

Any other time in my life, this would be a dream come true. I mean, the boy is gorgeous. Any other girl in my position probably would have straddled him all the way to the outskirts of Chicago. But, me? I sat as close to the window in his little two-seater and tried to disappear into the leather interior.

My sister only lives about forty-five minutes away, so at least the time alone with this guy was limited. I mean, it wasn't as if he was a murderer or rapist. I was riding in a very nice car, with one of Chicago most eligible bachelors, on my way to a lush party. I should be happy, right? WRONG AGAIN!

You would not believe what this jerk said to me. He asked me to marry him. Can you believe that? Without even knowing my last name, he asked me to become his wife for endorsements. Obviously, in the advertising world, having a fat wife improves your image exponentially. And, the bad part is that he thought he was doing me a favor. But, at least he was nice about it. He even offered to keep his affairs top secret and he would make sure to save some of the Whitmore-lovin' for me. Some men.

After being completely mortified and spending the entire party in my sister's upstairs bathroom crying, I made a decision. I decided to do something about my weight. I am going on a diet. No more will I look at myself in the mirror and see 'the fat chick'. No longer will I feel self-conscious every time I walk into a room filled with pretty people. No longer will jerks like John-Freakin-Whitmore think that I need him to proposition me just to have some companionship. NO MORE.


Where do time go? It has almost been a week since I've posted something here. I put it off for one day (out of pure laziness) and I look up and a week has gone by. You know, when you are older, time go by much more quickly than when you were a child. What is with that?

So, I guess I have a week worth of stuff to tell you guys. First, I saw Geradine on the train again this morning. Apparently, her husband just died a month ago. I wondered why I haven't seen her before than. Then had been married for 54 years when he was taken away. Imagine that; spending majority of you life with someone and lose them like that. For 54 years, she was part of a couple; just half of a full person (her words not mine). How do you get your identity back after something like that?

Anyway, she is hell-bent on setting me up with her grandson. He must be some loser who lives in her basement for her to want to set him up with me. I, politely, turned down her offer. I did agree to go to church with her next Sunday, though. It was the least I could do after telling her that her grandson wasn't good enough for me without even meeting him.

The week was pretty good. Well, as good as it could get. I didn't fall down in front of anyone. I didn't get on the train with my skirt stuck in my pantyhose again. I pretty much didn't get humiliated. That is, not until Friday night.

Oh, to go. Be right back to tell you about Friday.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Interesting People

Today was like any other day. I got up, got dressed, got laughed at as I landed face first in a pile of mud. What is wrong with this country when people falling down and injuring themselves is a form of entertainment?

Well, I saw Jackson today. Did I not tell you who Jackson was? Well, he is the super-hot photographer that I use for many of my events. Contrary to what you might have heard around the offices of Grand Parties Inc., I do not hire him all the time because I have a major 'jones' for him and is harboring fantasies of him pulling me into a coat closet. He really is a very good photographer; probably the best in the area.

Anyway, he came in to talk about this weekend's shindig and I waste coffee all over my shirt. It's his eyes; he stares at you with those dark eyes with so much intensity it makes me nervous. Do you know what I am talking about? Have you ever had anyone look at you as if you are the only person in the world that matters at that moment? I don't get those kind of looks often, so they send me over the edge when I get them.

And, it is not as if I am disillusioning myself. I know that he doesn't have any romantic interest in me. He looks at everyone like that; I know this because I've watched him looking at other people the same way. He just.....he has this way of making you feel as if you deserve his undivided attention every time he talks to you. I really love that about him. (wait a minute, did I say love?)

That is the only thing that really happened to me....oh, wait a minute....I did meet this little old lady on the train today. I sat next to her on the ride to work. I was really hesitant to talk to her at first, but she turned out to be really interesting. She is a widow and all she does is ride the train all day looking for people to talk to. I know it sounds weird, but what makes her different from all of you people who have blogs and is on MySpace or one of those online things that you peruse for hours looking for human contact? What makes her different from me? Yeah, I sit up in my one bedroom apartment and declare that I don't need anyone, but look at me now. Here I am typing out all my intimate thoughts for the world to see, hoping today would be the day that I get at least one comment. It's sad; we're all just so so sad.

Monday, June 11, 2007

My First Blog

I was hanging out with some friends....okay scratch that. I heard some people talking on the bus the other day about how mentally soothing having a blog was. Somehow, the world has opened up and is available for rants, advice or whatever type of madness that spurs in your mind. "It's a type of therapy, really" one disillusioned teen tells the other.

Therapy, huh? I guess I can take some therapy. And, free therapy at that. It must be my lucky day.

I'm sure my sister, Joie, would be thrilled that I am starting this thing. To her, it would the closest I've ever came to going out and making new friends. You know what I say; friends are so overrated. What is it all for? Social contact. Everything is about social contact. People have this insane need to connect with others and get justification that they aren't completely fucked up. They need to meet people just like them, just as fucked up as they are, to know that they aren't the craziest person in the world. That is where that 'birds of a feather' crap comes from.

Anyway, I am off my soapbox. What do people do in these blog thingies anyway? Do I talk about myself, my life? Or, do I make one up to make myself more interesting and appealling to millions of people I don't really know? Whatever. I'll just tell the truth; I am about as creative as I am interesting.

My name is Happye Porter and I am an event planner from Chicago. I have an older sister Joie, who is married to a Chicago Bear. My parents live in Rockford, IL.

Okay, that's it. My life in a nutshell. Really, that is all there is to my life. I wake up, I get on a train, I go to work, I get on another train and come home. That is it. Every now and then my sister convinces me to come out to one of her "party of the slobs", but that is pretty much it.

I guess I can share something personal. Okay, something personal; I am overweight and, believe it or not, I am not as happy as my name may make you believe. I haven't had a date in over five years and I don't have any 'social contacts' outside of my sister. I don't talk to my parents anymore and I live in a old rundown building on the southside. Truth is, I am lonely; eventhough I wouldn't admit that to anyone.

Okay, that is about as personal as I will get.