Oh, Silly Kanigget

Beyond All Recognition

2012-01-28T21:16:00.004-06:00

My older brother is marrying a cougar and I am pretty sure she is using him for his money.

There. I said it.

About seven months ago, we began to hear about this new "friend" of his. This was about the same time that my bro only began to call me if he needed something. Our conversations were mostly, "My friend needs some legal advice." and "My friend is having custody issues with her ex." Or "Could you help my friend out?"

He usually checks in with my mom once a week or so, but pretty soon, she was only hearing from him once a month.

Around the middle of November, we began to hear more and more about this "friend" and her two kids. She and the kids were supposed to drop in with my bro for Thanksgiving. This didn't take place because she broke up with my brother when he had the gall to listen to the messages on the answering machine.

See, what my bro hadn't told anyone was, that beginning in September, he moved in with this lady. He was still paying rent at his apartment and half the rent at her place. The messages he listened to were on the land-line. You know, the phone they shared in the apartment they lived in together.

(This from a woman who took my bro's cell phone, pretended to be him, and tried to get me to send a picture of myself so she could see what a part "jap" girl looks like. Don't even get me started on that again.)

They reconciled at the start of December and it was decided she and the kids would come for Christmas. They decided to spend Christmas with the cougar's mom last minute, so Christmas would be celebrated with my mom a couple weeks early. My mom rushed around buying gifts for this woman and her kids. Gifts from my mom, Ty, and me.

What did they get us? Absolutely nothing. Not even a thank-you. I'm fine with that, but they didn't get shit for my mom after foisting this on her last minute and staying at her place for the weekend.

It was then that my mom found out that this woman was 40 years old.

A decade older than my brother.

I've had two calls from my brother since then. Both calls attempting to gain information from me that could make me lose my job. For this woman. Ways so she could skirt around the system even more than she is already doing.

Working under the table so she doesn't have to report her income. Using my brother as an unpaid babysitter and chauffeur. Milking the system for SNAP and TANF by lying about said income and her living situation. My bro spent over $1000 on them for Christmas and they made him a rag blanket out of felt. I'm pretty sure the only reason she got back together with him was because he had already bought most of the presents. She probably couldn't afford rent without him too.

I don't think I've ever disliked someone so much without meeting them.

She is the antithesis of me and maybe that is my problem. A dependent loser that mooches her way through life.

This will be her third marriage that I know of. My bro proposed on New Year's with a very impressive diamond ring. Her post on Facebook announcing their engagement was something along the lines of "Look at this sucka! I guess he must love me."

Yes, because we all measure eternal devotion in carats.

Everyone else seems to like her, maybe I'm just in a mood. Maybe I'm just reaching on this whole thing, but it's better to get this out and not let it build.

This whole wedding thing is really freaking me out. I have so much anger and suspicion pouring through me that I don't even recognize myself anymore. I keep telling myself that I need to just get over it and be happy for my bro.

But what happens if I can't?

In the Name of Dog

2011-12-11T00:42:00.003-06:00

I came home Friday to find Alex sitting on my front porch. It was highly unusual because I could have sworn I left him in the backyard just like I've done everyday for the last three years. He was so excited to see me and at the same time horrified because he knew that he had done something terribly wrong and was about to get in trouble.

Little weasel had managed to worm his way through the gate. I'm pretty sure a meter reader came by and didn't close things properly. I should just be happy that I've trained them to re-latch the damn thing at all.

I was mad at Alex for several reasons, number one being that he was a disobedient little jerk, but also for scaring the shit out of me.

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, my cousin Wy and his wife came down to visit the family. They brought their little French Bulldog Sparky with them. Allegedly, Sparky got out of my aunt and uncle's yard, made his way to the local Walgreens, and chilled out for a while with the Salvation Army bell-ringer. From there, a "Mexican man" came up to the bell-ringer, said "Hey, that's my dog!" took Sparky, and hasn't been seen since.

I say "allegedly" about this whole thing, because this is the fifth dog Wy has had in as many years. He gets a dog, keeps it until the newness of it wears off, and then discards it. Maybe he couldn't keep up with the exercise requirements (Max the Golden Retriever) or someone else wanted to buy the dog (Spot the Pitbull). Maybe it dug a hole in the backyard (Tiny the Great Dane) or it reminded him too much of his ex-girlfriend (Tuffie the Yorkie).

What I'm saying is Sparky's days were numbered from the get go.

My cousin and his wife left town that same day leaving my aunt and uncle to put an ad in the paper and offer a reward if they so chose. They just left him behind like he was garbage.

This happened on Black Friday. The next Friday they had replaced Sparky with an English Bulldog by the name of Maggie. Just like that.

If Alex had gone missing, I would still be frantically searching for him. I would have torn that town apart and ripped the person who took him limb from limb. Not that I think Alex would have gone willingly with anyone, and he's such a spoiled brat that whoever took him would have brought him back and begged my forgiveness, then declared themselves punished enough. Knowing my dog, I would have agreed.

I can't put into words how much I love my dog. He's my baby. He was mine, or rather--I was his, from the first moment he strutted over to me, plopped down on my feet, and begged to be picked up and cuddled when he was a puppy.

He's the one being I can always count on to be happy that I'm there. He's smart and brave and I swear he has the best sense of humor. He's always good for a hug or a long walk. He's just as excited to see me if I've been gone for five minutes or if I've been gone five hours. He's quirky and mischievous. He always has to be the center of attention and has this odd predilection for potatoes that I don't quite understand.

He's a dog in the best sense of the word. He's woman's best friend and I thank my lucky stars everyday that he's part of my life.

I could never imagine letting him be stolen by some stranger, let alone giving him away.

Sometimes I think my cousin is evil. Don't they say that sociopaths do horrible things to animals? I often wonder if I could find a way to have him banned from ever getting another dog. And then I realize that maybe I'm overreacting. To some people, a dog is just a dog. It's an accessory not to be confused with a family member. It's a creature, a thing. Not a human, just a domesticated animal that has a purpose to serve.

But how could you not love them anyway?

So There

2011-11-12T16:03:00.002-06:00

It feels good...

It feels good to have paint smeared on my hands and under my nails again.

It feels good to chase Alex around the yard.

It feels good to look up at the sky and laugh.

It feels good to plot out a recipe for dinner tonight.

It feels good to know that I will soon be taking my first vacation in almost three years.

It feels good to know that I'm just going to lay around, read, and eat "good" food.

It feels good...

So there.

Frosty the Snow Bitch

2011-11-08T22:00:00.002-06:00

If I could talk about work, I would say that, "Last week I had my mid-year evaluation and in that evaluation and meeting with my supervisor, she told me I was a cold, frigid bitch with an icy shoulder."

But I can't talk about work. I can't even talk about it when weird, awful shit like that happens. But I can tell you that I have a telephone interview this coming week for a new job. It's a preliminary interview, but we'll see how that goes.

I've come to realize that there are places in this world that a person can absolutely hate. Places that can make you hate yourself. You can struggle and fight and grit your teeth as you struggle for a change. But sometimes that change will never come.

You've got no choice but to give up.

You can only throw yourself against that wall so many times before you give yourself brain damage...I don't want to have brain damage.

I was told that I needed to "shape up and get with the program." Fuck the program. The program fucking sucks. I hate the program. The program can rot in hell.

Three and a half years. I've wasted my life for three and a half years. I can count on one hand how many times I've called in sick. I haven't had a vacation in two years. I show up every day and I do my fucking job.

I don't deserve this shit. I never did.

There is loyalty and there is stupidity and somewhere I got lost and crossed that line.

God, I got to get out of there.

The Will to Testify or Will and Testament

2011-10-16T20:14:00.006-05:00

There are things, things that have happened that I can't talk about. Things that are scary and troubling. Things like, "I may have helped someone get removed from a place and now I check their facebook daily to see if they are going to go postal." Scary.

I also might get in trouble for "helping." It kind of makes me almost sympathetic to the people who bury their heads in the sand and don't report things. You know, the people on the news who are all, "Well, yeah, we knew he'd been talking about shooting up the place, we never thought he would do it though."

Enough about that. I've let my mother know who to sue when/if the times comes. She also promised to take care of Alex for me.

It's been busy at the Kanigget homestead. Preparations for Halloween are in full swing. The house is decorated and I managed not to bankrupt myself this year. I don't think I'll dress up this time as a person of authority at the place I mentioned in the first two paragraphs sent out a message that basically called me a whore in a group-wide email because of last year's choice of costume.

On a completely unrelated subject, why, yes, I am looking for a new job. I don't know why.

I've taken up knitting. So far I've made a scarf and I've learned about six different stitches. I'm working on a scarf for my mom for Christmas. It is crimson (for OU) and it features the rib and honeycomb stitches.

I am now on the fast-track to becoming an old spinster. Mom is so pleased.

Ugh, that is all for now. Hopefully not forever.

Jeez, I really hope my ass doesn't get shot.

Fun Times With Mom

2011-09-10T22:28:00.004-05:00

While walking through the parking lot of Hobby Lobby...

Mom: *stops abruptly and stares towards a man opening a car door for his wife/girlfriend* "Now, isn't that a beautiful sight?"

Me: *admiring* "Yeah, I'm thinking about getting one. It's too sweet to pass up."

Mom: "Really? That's great!"

Me: "Yeah, but I wanted one in Lava Red and they stopped production on them. I can wait though."

Mom: "Wait. What?"

Me: "I guess I could get one in black. Maybe that Kona Blue?"

Mom: "I was talking about that guy opening the car door! You know? Chivalry not being dead?"

Me: "Well, I was talking about the Mustang."

Mom: "I was hoping you were referring to the man."

Me: "Sha! Man? Mustang? I'll take the car."

Mom: "Could you at least think about it a little longer next time? Although those are the funnest looking vehicles."

This from the woman who looked at the pregnancy books on the sales rack at Hastings while mumbling about grandchildren and eying my stomach with way too much furtiveness.

Rain=Pours

2011-08-21T13:49:00.003-05:00

My mom likes to tell people that I loved school. Best time of my life. Truth? I hated school--well except for college.

I hated being told what to do. Who to talk to--when to talk, what to learn, when I could eat lunch. I think maybe deep down the lunch thing pissed me off the most. In high school there were three options. You could go at 11, 12 or 1. You didn't get to pick, it rotated every week by what floor of the building you where on and I hated it. At 11 I was never hungry, at 12 it was too busy, and by 1 I was starving. Plus, what about my friends???

I tolerated it because I had to. I wasn't an adult and technically there was this thing called "authority" that I had to listen to. For my own good or whatever.

I'm adult now.

As an adult, I would never tolerate someone telling me who to and when I can talk or ask questions. I would never tolerate someone telling me when I had to go to lunch and who I can go with.

So, Monday through Friday, why am I letting someone tell me what I can and can't do?

Fuck that place.

I'm gone.

Ain't Your Enemy

2011-07-26T00:25:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I forget that people, even people I consider my best friends, aren't as circumspect as I am when it comes to sharing secrets.

If you tell me something personal and don't preface it with something along the lines of "Oh, feel free to share!" I am a vault. It stays with me. That's just the way I've always been. It's not my business, so why would I think I had the right to share it?

I'm so stupid to believe that everyone thinks that way.

My work friends are probably my best friends, mostly due to the fact that they are the people I spend the most time with. Oh, and they're usually pretty awesome too.

Last Wednesday was my team's turn to throw a potluck at work. My friends and I were cleaning up afterward and shooting the shit. The main topic of conversation was how I am STILL not talking to my mom.

I ranted for a bit about how I am proud of all that I've accomplished weight loss wise and that I shouldn't feel ashamed because SOME people think I'm too slow and lazy about it. I was all het up about it and when "K" asked me how much I've lost, something I hadn't shared directly, I let slip that I am currently sitting on 50.

I didn't think anything about it...until Friday.

I went across the hall to the other side of the building where most of my team sits and where all my work is kept for the day and walked right into the middle of a conversation about doctors and diabetes.

Apparently my boss is being put on this very restricted no-carb diet because her weight and blood sugar is getting out of control. She blames the stress of work. If I could state my opinion, I would say it was because she is a lazy biah. But there you go.

This is the same person who once told me, after I lost my first 25lbs, that I was "starting to look good." The words alone are not a compliment so just imagine the patronizing tone and baby-coo pitch that went with it.

Needless to say, I don't now and never have shared any of my issues or triumphs with her.

I literally walked in on this conversation and, since it was Friday, I was wearing a casual shirt--one of my new ones that actually fit, and my comfy, if a little stretchy tight, boot-cut jeans. I looked like The Shit if I may say so.

My boss turns to me and was all: "You look so good now, but then again, how much have you had to lose to accomplish that?"

Me: "I don't know. Not really keeping track."

K, trying to protect me and show her support, blurted out, "Oh you know! She's lost 50lbs! Can you believe that? Isn't that amazing?"

*crickets chirping*

I might have yelled at her while everyone kept saying how this is something I should be so proud about. I was proud of it. Proud in that special spot in my mind where it was all mine. Where I could take out that number and crow over it's specialness in secret.

Now it is out there and my bitch of a boss knows. She knows! If you don't think it's going to come back and bite me in the ass, then you are seriously mistaken. That woman hates me with a calculating and jealous bitterness. She is one of those people who hates everyone and wants them to fail...publicly if possible.

I am so mad at K. It's been days and we've talked about how that was something she shouldn't have shared. Yes, I understand she thought I was being too modest and she only wanted to "share the joy," but I am just so pissed.

It's bad enough I have to watch my back from all the haters, but now I got to keep an eye on my friends too?

And I haven't even mentioned the pregnancy scare rumor yet. Jeez...

In Conclusion, Or Further More

2011-07-16T11:08:00.003-05:00

Every time I think about the incident with my mom I still get pissed. I've decided that I'm not talking to her or communicating with her until she apologizes, sincerely apologizes. That may take a while, seeing as she still doesn't think she did anything wrong.

But it's okay. I think I've got my head on straight about it. I don't think anything she said is true. I'm still mad because she thought she had the right to talk to me that way.

I've talked to my friends about it and they have assured me. I'm not a bitch. Sometimes I can be bitchy and devious and headstrong, but that it what they love about me. I'm also protective, loyal, and caring and apparently a really great friend.

We all got teary-eyed. It was nice and freeing. Much like what you would find in a Chick Lit book or something.

The whole weight thing is bullshit. I mean, even scientifically it is bullshit. Men lose weight faster. It is just another trick that whatever higher being out there is playing on the females of the world.

She's never had to lose weight. She's never even had to struggle to keep weight off. I've seen that women eat bacon and a large-ass omelet for breakfast, mow through a large cheeseburger and tater tots for lunch, and accumulate five plates at an all-you-can-eat buffet in one day. Probably didn't put on an ounce.

I've always thought she made a deal with the devil or something.

She doesn't have any sort of exercise routine or calorie restriction, yet she thinks she can pipe in with her nonsense.

I'm not competing with Chris and he's not competing with me. It's her. She just doesn't get it and I'm not letting her put me down with her ignorance and motherly ways anymore.

And every time I let the doubt creep in on me, I'm just going to read this.

It's a Setup

2011-07-09T20:21:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think my own mother wants me to fail.

There. I said it and now it's out in the open.

I don't think it's a conscious decision on her part, but I think it's there nonetheless.

When I went to visit on the 4th, I really didn't want to. I was having a...hormonal day, and I knew I wasn't going to be very good company. But I went because she kept going on and on about how antisocial I am.

After wasting two hours and twenty dollars of gas on a boring strip of road, I found myself at my childhood home. My little brother, his girlfriend, his best-friend, and his girlfriend had found themselves there too. There was no place to park and I had to hike it in 108 degree weather. Not a good start.

I didn't say anything when I got inside because I knew if I did, only attitude and squawking would come out. I am very much of the "If you can't say anything thing nice, don't say anything at all...to their faces" club.

We went to my aunt's house to swim and I felt horrible. There I was, surrounded by a bunch of women whose combined body fat percentage is probably equal to mine and I was in a swimsuit. I just tried to tread water and not cringe every time I had to get out and put on sunscreen. Really didn't help that my mom floated around pointing out how rude I had been to my brother and his friends and how no one was going to invite me anymore if I didn't stop being a snot.

When my aunt offered me a strawberry cupcake left over from the cook-out the night before, I scarfed it.

Back at my mom's house, we lounged around for a bit and my older brother called. After pointing out to me that I shouldn't have ate the cupcake, my mom took glee informing me that my older bro had lost 40 pounds since December and hadn't I lost the same amount in twice the time? He's also up for a promotion at work and he thinks the interview went great.

We've talked about how, why I am happy for Chris, she is not allowed to do that anymore. We've had shouting matches about it. She still keeps doing it though.

She asked how much more I was planning to lose, and making up a number off the top of my head, I said 20. She told me that I could probably lose 40 more...but since I haven't been losing that much lately, that would probably be pushing it.

It was worse than the last time I visited and she pointed out that I still had a double chin. I cried for the first thirty minutes of my return trip home. I tried not to, but I just couldn't help it.

Thursday, we were discussing my current work problems and how I wanted to start looking else where. She asked why I couldn't just get along with people then she said that she was surprised I still had friends because I was being a bitch.

My own mother called me a bitch. And yeah, I probably am one, but my mom is the last one that should be pointing that out.

I've told her several times that I'm an emotional eater. She lived with me for eighteen years, she knows this. Yet she seems to be going out of her way lately to make me a total wreck. It's like she wants me to guzzle pop and slam my face into a bowl full of chocolate.

I hadn't talked to her since Thursday, which is kind of a stretch for us. We usually text/call/email daily, but I couldn't bring myself to do that.

This morning was my monthly weigh in and I am down five pounds. I was stalled out for the last couple of months, so that is awesome!

She called me about 30 minutes ago and asked me what my problem was. I told her that my problem, was in fact, her. She didn't take it well. She ranted about how she has always been supportive of me and that I'm just being too sensitive. Pointing out that I was proving her point of me being a bitch.

I hung up on her.

I've tried telling her that her way of being "supportive" is the exact opposite. I've tried to not have her talk about my issues. Those don't work, so maybe this will.

Buyer Beware

2011-06-26T14:12:00.003-05:00

I've been thinking about getting an aquarium ever since I got my bettas. I've had all three since January and they are all doing swimmingly. (Pun!) But like every money spending decision in my life, I have to think the hell out of it before doing it.

I've tentatively decided that I'm going to do it, now I'm just in money-saving mode. Oh, and research mode.

Cycling, water parameters, fish compatibility, and it goes on and on.

Today, I decided to stop by PetSmart just to look around at tank prices and possible fish. To look. I figure I drop enough money in the store (Hello Alex!) that I've earned the right to just look. Apparently not.

Me: *Innocently browsing the fish.*

Worker: "Are you actually going to buy today or are you just wasting time?"

Me: *WTF? Did someone just say that to me?*

Worker: "I mean, do you even have a tank or are you just looking today?"

Me: *Hmm. How do I get you to leave me alone?* "I have a tank already. Just looking. Thanks."

Worker: "Really?"

Me: "Yes, a 29-gallon bow front. It's just finishing up it's cycle."

Worker: *stares blankly*

Me: "Just trying to decide what I want to stock it with. Alone."

Worker: "Oh, were you wanting the aggressive or peaceful?"

Me: *Watching an Oscar swim up and down the tank. So cute.* "I think I need some more time to think about it."

Worker: "If you wanted aggressive, you should get cichlids. If you want peaceful, maybe some of the tropicals. But if you just wanted a fish that will eat other fish, you should get an Oscar. The Oscar will eat whatever fits in its mouth."

Me: *OMG! How is it you have a job still?* "I'm leaning more towards the peaceful. Thanks. Again."

Worker: "Well, the peaceful are down there. Let me know if you find what you want."

I think I'm going to be going to PETCO when I finally decide what I want. Jeez.

Sweet, Sweet Memories

2011-06-05T22:35:00.000-05:00

The Kanigget family has very few family portraits. My dad was always the one behind the camera, my mom and I both despise having our pictures taken, Chris is usually doing something obscene, and Ty, well, Ty would turn every photo shoot into his own personal Glamour Shots and boost the rest of us out of the way of the adoring lens if he could.

There are approximately three family photos--two of which were taken before Ty was born and the remaining one was taken after my dad passed away. All of them are perfectly heinous.

The oldest is one that was taken for the Church directory and we all look like goons. A depressingly, fake zombie-like family. My mom would burn it and tap dance on the ashes if she wasn't so sentimental. And if she could tap dance. Uncoordinated in the art of dance is my mom. That picture is hidden somewhere and my mom only drags it out when she is feeling particularly maudlin.

The newest pic is my bros, Mom, and I crammed together on my grandfather's couch about 12 Christmases ago. My mom looks like she swallowed a lemon, Chris looks and probably was drunk, I was going through my Emo stage and was wearing something appropriately dark with my hair in my eyes, and Ty was going through his pudgy stage. I haven't seen that one in about three years...I think Ty weighed it down and threw it into a river.

The final is of the family trip to Disney World. It was over 90 degrees that day, we were dressed as velvet-loving pirates, and I was four. If that didn't sum things up: My day looks pissed, yet properly piratical. My mom looks nervous. Chris looks like he's going to vomit at any second. And me? Moi? I'm bawling my eyes out and cringing against my mom.

My dad, not one to enjoy the heat or my hissy fits, had just threatened to replace me with my cousin if I didn't stop my whining. My four-year old brain took that as replace me, not just in the picture, but in LIFE and I freaked.

My mom despises this picture most of all. Hates it with a virulent passion. She hates the mere mention of its existence. It was kept separate from the other mass quantities of photos so as not to contaminate the with its heinousness.

She was going to throw it away today. I drove four hours (round trip) to save it.

I love that picture. It shows to me that things may not always be rosy and delightful, but a family sticks together. Most photos only portray happiness and good times. This is more real. Honest. Plus I'm sick and twisted and just love the horribleness of it all.

It sits in prominence on my mantel. (Well, if I had a mantel. You need a fireplace to have a mantel, but "big-ass shelf" just doesn't have the same ring...but I digress.) It is mine on the condition that I don't actively show it to anyone. If they just happen to see it whilst visiting my home, fine. But I can't bandy it about in pride.

That being said...if my scanner was working right now, it would totally cap off this post.

The Competitive Type

2011-05-28T23:51:00.003-05:00

For as long as I can remember, my brothers and I have been competing against each other. It's mostly harmless, but sometimes, certain things stick and we each get a little scarred. The scars resemble the shapes of Chris: the athletic one, Ty: the good-looking one, and Me: the smart one.

It's mostly my mom that uses these sick sort of nicknames. She doesn't really mean it, at least I hope she doesn't. The references seem to pop out of her mouth innocently enough. Like, "Chris, I don't know what happened, he's so out of shape now. Remember when he was the star of the [enter one of several sports my older bro played] team?" and poor Ty, whenever he does something a little, um, stupid? "Oh, Ty. At least he's pretty." Or me. "I don't know why you can't find a nice man to settle down with. You're just so...smart."

Maybe it's not so innocent after all.

Around February of last year, the three of us decided to get into shape. Well, Ty was already in shape; he just wanted to keep up with conditioning and toning. Of course, it became a bit of a competition. A competition I was winning damn it!

Ty got caught up in some girlfriend, or rather girlfriends and Chris couldn't resist the siren song of Dr. Pepper and cheeseburgers. I was kicking ass and taking names!

But now I have hit the wall and I'm stuck.

At first, I tried to keep my mom out of my business. Believe me, it wasn't that hard. After I lost thirty pounds and she saw me for the first time in four months, her response, "Did you cut your hair? You look different." But she couldn't help but notice that I was eating healthier and sticking to water and unsweetened tea.

She decided to butt in and become my health coach. Because, after all, who wouldn't want a health coach that is 5'8" and weighs 120 on a fat day?

I wouldn't. I don't want her help. Her help is sticky with guilt and tainted with shame. My guilt and my shame. Her help makes me feel like the fat girl that never got picked in gym class. Her sweet guidance makes me feel like the frumpy wallflower that never got asked to dance. All over again.

I've tried to explain this to her and for a while there, it was working. But she has slowly started to worm her way into my business again.

Her carrot, or rather her stick, this time is competition.

This ploy just happened to coincide with Chris giving up his Dr. Pepper and fast food fetish. In the past four months, he has lost 30 lbs to my paltry ten. And if the scale is correct for this month, I've magically somehow managed to gain back nine.

I tell myself it's water weight. That my body has freaked out with all the coming summer heat and became a fear-mongering water-hog. But part of my brain whispers to me, "You're a fatty and Chris is Mom's favorite."

Things came to a head yesterday when, talking to Mommy Dearest, she slyly mentioned that Chris was looking for a good tailor because, since he's lost all this weight, all his suits needed to be taken in. And did she mentioned that his work gave him a 6% raise at his year-end evaluation? Now, how much was I making again? And why haven't I gotten a raise lately?

I politely excused myself from the conversation and curled up in a ball on my bed and tried not to cry. I like to think that was a better alternative to going and buying a 1/3 lb cheeseburger and large chocolate milkshake from Braum's. It's what I would've a little over a year ago.

I like to think she is just trying to stoke our competitive fires. After all, it's what worked for the past 25 years. It's what kept me as an over 4.0 GPA member to every honor society. It's what made Chris into a star outfielder, Taekwondo black belt, and All State defensive football player. It's probably what's going to turn Ty into a boy-toy to some rich cougar of a divorcee.

It's now what's driving me slowly mad.

I spent an hour mowing my yard today in sunny 92 degree weather. I deliberately waited for it to get that hot. I thought, the hotter it is, the harder I'll have to work, the more I'll sweat, the more calories I'll burn. I think all it made me do was gain some clarity.

I don't want to give myself heatstroke trying to impress her. I don't want to strive to make my caloric input less than my physical output. I don't want to go to the bathroom and throw up whatever disgusting thing I'd just binged myself on.

I don't want to be that girl.

I just needed to write this all down so I can remember why I am doing this. I'm doing this to get healthy. So that my outside looks just as amazing as my inside has a little to do with it, yes. I'm not doing this to compete and I'm not doing this to impress anyone.

I also needed to write this down, so that when I talk to my mom about this tomorrow, it will be in polite, low tones and not the screechy scream it might have been.

If I Start Playing D&D...Slap Me

2011-05-23T19:03:00.001-05:00

My friend SM once told me that I was "a nerd's wet-dream." I found that vaguely disgusting; I still do. But what he said is kind of true.

Well, maybe mostly true.

From my two quasi-gamer brothers, I have a sadly extensive knowledge of the whole video game world. I suck at playing, but I can quote you plots, characters, cheats, and system specs. It's sick. It sometimes makes me hate myself in the dark hours of the night.

I have two good friends who keep me in the "know" intergalactically. One's a huge Trekkie and the other tried to get me to dress up like Mace Windu for the premiere of Episode III. That didn't happen--not even close, by the way.

Oh, and let's not forget my own sick, twisted love of anime. I blame my Japanese heritage on that one. For both the love of anime and Hello Kitty. Damn you grandma! Damn you! I never dipped into the world of manga...but sometimes I wonder what's stopping me. I think it is the taint I have attached to graphic novels. *cough*comicbooks*cough*

Another area I've never flitted to was the whole Dragonriders of Pern, Dungeons & Dragons...stuff. Maybe it's just dragons in general. Oh, and those little pewter figurine thingies too.

All this time, I thought I couldn't handle it. The alt history, days of yore, elves, dwarves, and winged-beast crap. (I'm just going to say it: I despise the whole Middle-earth thing. I couldn't even finish The Hobbit.) It's kind of crazy because God knows I enjoy a good PNR novel. But there it is.

So, when HBO started going on and on about this Game of Thrones thing. I scoffed. I did. People have been trying to get me to read "those" books for years. Uh, gee. No thanks. But I thought I would check out the show anyway, because hey, it's HBO. At the very least, I would get a good laugh out of it.

OMG! I LOVE IT! I do. I watch it all the time! And then I wait. I wait for Sundays at 9/8 central. It's kind of what keeps me going. Like, I know that the next morning I'm going to have to get up and go to work...repeatedly, but if I get my shot of GoT, all is okay with the world.

But waiting for Sundays just isn't enough anymore.

Today (after viciously searching through many, many bookstores), I snagged my very own copy of Game of Thrones. All 807 glorious pages.

But if I start to prattle on about campaigns and multi-sided dice, you are allowed to use lethal force.

The Old and the Infirm

2011-05-18T22:36:00.002-05:00

I am currently sick.

I kept telling myself, "Self," I say, "This is merely allergies!" But you can only call something "allergies" so many times before your sinuses rebel and scream that this is no routine thing. This is a head cold and the gods are laughing at your pain.

I hate colds. I would much rather have something more dire. Yes, I said that. Colds just make me feel sick enough to be a whiny, angry baby. I'm not bad enough to be incoherent and delirious. But I'm bad enough that I can become incredibly frustrated with my situation.

It is an annoyance.

I remember I had pneumonia a few years ago and I got to stay unconscious most of the time and hyped up on meds. I've got nothing for the stupid common cold. It's the bratty little brother of illnesses. Or possibly the perverted uncle that you pretend you don't have. I haven't decided yet.

Maybe this is just the Nyquil talking.

I've been stuffed up and tetchy with it since about Saturday. And maybe I'm just so sick of being sick, but people (work people, hypothetically, OMG!) are driving me fucking nuts!

Theoretically, the average age at my job is 46. That is old enough to be my parent. In some societies, my grandparent. To say that there is a mild age and generational gap is putting things mildly.

It's never been a big deal for me. I've always been told that I'm very grown-up for my age. I've had to be. I'm a good worker too. Yeah, I joke and I like to have fun, but I get my work done first.

I'm easy to work with, I don't cause trouble, and I don't "stir the pot." I'm responsible, I can count on less than two hands how many days I've taken off in the last three years, and I'm dependable and consistent as all get out. I may not be the best, but I'm pretty freaking outstanding just the same.

What I want to know, though, is how the hell I ended up being positively despised by my own supervisor? (Hypothetically, of course.)

We've (my theoretical team and I) have talked about this and they have come up with this theory. (Yes, the theoretical team has theories!) She's jealous.

Wait. Let me spell it out.

In one corner, you have this woman in her late-40s. She doesn't have a college degree. She's been stuck in a loveless marriage for almost two decades (she likes to talk about cheating on her husband all the time with her landlord to any who will listen). She's got a mountain of debt and two car payments. Her child is going through the terrible teens. She's seriously overweight and is downing pills for diabetes, cholesterol, high blood pressure, and anxiety.

In the other corner, you have me. Mid-twenties. College degree with Phi Beta Kappa attached. I'm single, child-free, and so very happy to be so. I've got no debt besides my mortgage and the car is bought and paid for. I may be overweight, but I've dropped some pounds recently and I'm well on my way to kicking ass. The only pills I take are a multivitamin and a (temporary) antihistamine.

Oh, and I've got the respect and love of a team that she's tried to grind down into the ground.

I'm comfy and content. And I guess for a bitter, old hag, those might seem like hanging offenses.

Jenner and I got stuck in the elevator with her today and she compared me to her 13 year old daughter and then told me that I needed to grow up or else I'd be facing a bumpy road ahead. It was unwarranted and completely out of line. Jenner actually grabbed my arm and hissed at me to let it go.

I'm sorry, but I'm (quite literally) sick and tired of letting it go.

That's the Story of, That's the Glory of

2011-05-10T20:15:00.000-05:00

My little bro Ty has moved to town. Well, about thirty minutes North technically.

It's just for the summer...or so he says.

He's living with his girlfriend...and her parents.

Yeah.

I missed out on the whole puppy-love thing. The cutesy hand-holding, sweet-nothings in the ear, fatalistically stupid need for each other. Missed out. By the time I hit my teen years, I had already seen the best and very worst romantic relationships had to offer. The young love thing seemed kind of pointless.

I thought I had it figured out though.

It all seemed kind of desperate. And selfish. I, I, I, me, me, me. I need to be with you. I want you. Do you looooove me? Shallow and fleeting.

At no point did it mention moving in with your girlfriend's parents after only dating for four months.

Is it just me, or does that seem kind of odd? Creepy even?

Maybe it's just me, or rather the rest of my family. We're very grounded. Responsible. Down to earth. Not really given to flights of fancy and romantic folly. We do not dive into things without looking...and debating. Sometimes we even leave it and come back later.

Not Ty.

I just want to pull him aside and ask? "Have you really thought this through?" Which in older sister language really means: "What the hell were you thinking? Are you CRAZY?!"

He's known this girl four months and he's moved in...with her parents. I don't tell people my favorite color after four months let alone whether or not I'm going to kill them in their sleep and bury them in my crawl space.

Not that I would. I WOULDN'T!

I don't see this ending well...for me.

He's given up his dorm room and he's got a job down here. What happens if their is some sort of lovers' spat? And he gets kicked out?

Guess who he's moving in with...ME!

Can you imagine? I barely survived 13 years with him under the care of my hyper-vigilant mother.

Ty has a way of forgetting things. Forgetting the stove is on. Forgetting to lock the gate so Alex won't get out and terrorize the neighborhood. Forgetting the alarm code. Forgetting to put his car in park. Forgetting that putting the thermostat on 50 is never a good idea. Forgetting that playing with gasoline and fire is a bad idea...

The possibilities for carnage and destruction are endless.

In this, I hope Shakespeare is wrong: the course of [true] love sure as hell better run smooth. At least for the next three months or so.

Starts with "C," Rhymes with "Hunt"

2011-05-06T00:02:00.002-05:00

We are well on our way onto Day 2 of the Shun that Will Not End.

After I posted on Wednesday, I realized that I wasn't really shunning anyone. I was just so annoyed that I knew only psychotic ramblings would pour out of my mouth if I chose to open it. So I kept it closed.

I just want things back to normal. Before the Infidel had to go all crazy and take my friends with her. Going with the whole infidel theme: everyone went all apostatical on me.

This morning, I decided to keep to myself. I still had a little rage simmering on the back burner. Around 9:00, I went across the hall to grab some work to do and the Infidel and her disciples (formerly my disciples) were holding a conference. About me.

The Infidel called me the "c-word." (I hate that word. No, I really hate that fucking word.) It was actually more like this:

Infidel: "I can't believe she is still not talking to you guys. But I've noticed that she's pretty much a c***."

Former Friend #1: "Well, she does have her moods every once and a while."

Infidel: "When is she not moody? C***."

Former Friend #2: *says nothing in my defense*

Now, these two? I have stood up for. I've taken the fall for them! I would never let anyone call them such an ugly word. As mad and upset as I am over this, I still wouldn't let anyone say such a thing.

After lunch (which I ate alone), they had the audacity to come by my office and see what I wanted to bring for the Cinco de Mayo lunch the Infidel had planned for tomorrow (yeah, it's technically now the Seis). I couldn't even make eye contact with them.

Maybe I am that word.

I just don't care anymore.

Shuuunnnn the Non-Believers

2011-05-04T18:18:00.003-05:00

I don't know if you know this, but...I'm a bit of a bitch.

It is something my family and friends all hoped I would grow out of, but I didn't.

I'm capricious, sarcastic, stubborn, and vengeful. In other words: a bitch. No, Bitch.

But I'm worth it. Well, if you're looking to be constantly entertained and have a loyal friend who will fight to the death for you, then I'm worth it.

The capricious stubbornness reared it's rather ugly head today.

My lunch group has a special table. We, maybe, commandeered it away from the filing clerks, but it is our special place. And our special place has its own special places. We each have a seat that we sit at everyday. The same one.

My seat is touchy in particular. I always need to sit on the end and I always need to have my back to the wall. It is understood. I need my seat. It's been my seat for over two years. For me, it is like a child curling up with a security blanket after a bad day at preschool.

There has been a new addition to my little lunch group. Someone who, at best, I tolerate. She is abrasive and pushy and vulgar. I cannot stand outright vulgarity at work. I'm just too old-fashioned I guess.

But she, like everyone else in this world, has her good points too...I guess, I don't really see them. She just sort of glommed on to my group and we didn't have the heart to kick her out. Well, the other girls didn't have the heart to kick her out.

My office is rearranging everything and our lunch table has been moved three times in the past month and it has been causing so (for me) far reaching problems.

When the Infidel, as I will call her, first started eating with us, she would sit down in my seat. The first time it happened, I politely asked her to move, and with a bit of eye rolling, she did. The first time our table moved, she did it again. This time, she wouldn't move, so I went to eat in my office.

Not to toot my own horn, but I'm the leader of my group. Once I left, by the next day, it was just the Infidel eating at the table. She quit eating with us for a couple of weeks and everything went back to normal.

The motherly member of the group asked her back and things went on...until our table moved again. And she AGAIN sat in my seat. This time I asked her to move without the politeness. Actually, I think I said, "Get the fuck out of my fucking chair right now." She complied and life went on...

Until our table was moved again on Monday.

Monday and Tuesday were fine. But today. Oh, today. The dumb bitch sat in my fucking chair again.

I asked her to move her fat ass. She refused. Instead of doing what I wanted to do, which was slam my steaming lunch in her face, I left to go eat at another table. This time, my comrades didn't follow.

And that's where the vengeful part of me kicked in.

I shun people. That is how I punish people. It's petty and stupid, but oh-so effective, which is why I get away with it. I know I should stop, but it's a dual-edged sword. I do it to be petty yes, but I also do it so that I won't do something worse.

It's how I handle my bad temper.

Usually it takes two days for the shunned to give in. I have a feeling I'm going to be pissed off for much longer than that.

I know it's just a stupid chair at a stupid table in a stupid office, but it's my chair, my table, my office. And since I can't take her out to the parking lot and beat her, I've got to use what is available.

Chartreuse Thumb

2011-04-30T19:36:00.002-05:00

Gardening and lawn work! Who knew that it could be so much fun?

I didn't.

Today, I went to buy mulch--a lovely russet red. Mulching is on the agenda for tomorrow, as well as possible tree pruning.

I mowed the yard--both front and back and checked on the progress of all my plantings. So far, I've laid out: petunias, torenia, lobelia, boxwood, and Gerbera daisies. Oh, and the Lynn Anderson roses!

Everything is doing great so far, but there is so much more I want to do!

But I think I need to work on the inside a bit first.

I really want to convert a console table or something like that into a plant area. A nice safe place to keep my orchids and violets. A nice tall, sturdy place where Alex can't stick his nose. Because Alex does love his flowers. He loves to destroy them...as my poor rosebush last year found out first hand.

Sad that my love of books has (briefly!) taken a backseat to another hobby. Maybe I should tackle re-seeding the lawn! The ultimate test that would prove my green thumb worthiness.

Random and New and Weird

2011-04-24T16:44:00.005-05:00

Being that Lent is over, I decided to celebrate.

I ordered a pizza--Hawaiian with a thin and crispy crust. A perfect little bit of celebrating 40 days without the "good stuff." Considering that it was pouring down rain, why not have it delivered? I mean, better a few slices of pizza than going out myself and scoring a Baconator and large fries.

The delivery guy showed up after about thirty minutes and when I opened the door, the poor guy had the strangest look on his face.

Me: "Hey! $14.10, right?"

Delivery Guy: "Yeah? Um, did you know that, um, that is on your door?"

Me: *looks down* "Wha?" *Does a double take*

DG: "Yeah, that's just disgusting, right?"

*Both look down at the condom that has been rolled onto my door handle*

Me: "Yeah." *tilts head to the side in further study* "At least it's not used. I think."

DG: "Jeez, someone is playing a sick joke on you."

Me: "Yup, gross. Disgusting, right? Pizza?"

Yes, someone had taken the time and energy to roll a condom on my door knob. How weird is that?

After chowing down on several pieces of pizza, I grabbed a handful of tissue, ripped it off the door and skipped around in a thunderstorm to toss it in the trash. The winds and rain making the prophylactic wave about like a banner. A freak-flag if you will.

Why?

I really don't know.

Who?

I really don't care.

Maybe it was the creeper across the street announcing his intentions. The wannabe-thugs that live down the block having a laugh. Maybe it was my elderly neighbor next door giving me a PSA on lifestyle choices. I just don't know.

Part of me is disturbed. What if this escalates? I mean, what's next? Handcuffs dangling from my railing? Dildos stuck in the flower box? A blow-up doll in the porch chair? The possibilities are endless.

Part of me is disgusted. A lot of me is disgusted, actually. Who does this shit? Seriously, get a life! More disturbingly, the thrifty part of me is all "Why are you wasting a perfectly good condom?"

And part of me is amused. And proud. I must have the only door on the block that practices safe-sex.

*Sigh* It's like being back in college over here.

Side Effects May Vary

2011-04-18T17:51:00.003-05:00

Back in my wide-eyed teens years, I think I was at my peak...I just didn't know it.

I played basketball, volleyball, a little bit of tennis, and even fooled myself into thinking I could run track.

I was already 5'8" by the time I was thirteen and my mom and I could swap out jeans. Considering my mom is the same height and has always weighed in at 120 lbs, I think I was living the high life. I had thick, shiny hair that people would randomly, involuntarily grope, and clear, never-suffered-acne-a-day-in-my-life skin.

Of course, I was a moody little bitch with a serious attitude problem. I lent this mostly to some latent survivor guilt, and of course...the lady problems. Yes, the lady problems. As my mom referred to them.

To put it delicately, there were some days, oh, once a month or so, that my face would be blanched white and I would snap pencils in half, trying to ride out the pain. Oh, ick! And the other issues. *Shudders*

A couple of years in, I got some help and I got fat. I don't think the help made me fat...or maybe it did. I like to think the whole "having to give up sports, getting a driver's license, and having a stressful work-work-work high school experience" did that. Either way, the problems later stopped on their own and I quit being such a heinous piece of crap.

Now some might say "fat=jolly." I just like to think "me - riotous hormones=sanity."

Bad news: Losing 50 lbs? Yeah, that brings back all sorts of problems.

On one hand it's awesome. 50 FREAKING POUNDS in a little over a year! And on the other hand, it had me spending all weekend in bed feeling miserable and praying no one would call so I wouldn't spew verbal pollution all over a innocent human being. Probably my mom...who would get me back.

I really didn't want to go to work today, but I did...and I was asked several times why I was so pale and if I was okay. I just wanted to tell everyone, "This is it! This is what a healthier me looks like...you fucking morons!" And then I wanted to kick dirt in their faces and steal their chocolate.

I can't wait to see what the next 50 lbs will bring.

The Little Things

2011-04-04T18:00:00.002-05:00

I found out that prison tattoo ink can include urine. I, for some reason, found this hilarious.

Wind gusts were around 40mph. All I could think about was putting on a flying squirrel costume and going "surfing."

A coworker recently got hair extensions. I said she looked like she was auditioning for a 80s porno. Not to her face of course.

I danced The Robot.

My iPod was set on the "Katy Perry/Ke$ha/Lady Gaga Mix" and I just couldn't keep still while bopping along.

I got through with my "ugly stack" at work.

I found my copy of He Loves Lucy. It always seems to inspire me.

I bought the first popsicles of the season. And they're quasi-healthy. Fruity!

Tacos for dinner! Tacos!

The weather (if the wind dies down) is perfect for the pup and I to take an early evening walk.

It's the little things that can bring such joy.

The Grudge

2011-04-02T23:32:00.000-05:00

I am the Queen of Holding Grudges. No, I really am. The lady that was blocking the juice aisle ten years ago in my hometown Wal-Mart? Yeah, I still want to punch her in the face. It helps, mildly, that I bumped her cart out of the way and it went rolling down the aisle into a pole and she had to waddle after it. (She told me to "blow [her]" when I politely asked her to please move. She got off lucky.)

It's horrible, yes. But I'm not ashamed of it.

Steph was my best friend, and two years ago she hurt me. She hurt me and she left and she took everyone with her. I was left to clean up the mess. Left holding the bag. Left alone. It was like I was being punished for something...only I didn't know what I'd done to deserve it.

For months I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to trip and fall on her face. I wanted her boyfriend to break up with her in a public place. I wanted her alone and ashamed. I wanted humiliations galore. I wanted to be there when it happened and I wanted to point at her and laugh.

But I didn't get it. That would have been closure for me and I never got it. She got to go on...and I got stuck, well, stuck for a while. Physically I moved on. Sometimes I can tell myself that mentally I moved on too. Emotionally, I wonder.

I'm so suspicious of people now. I make people jump through hoops. Yeah, like being my friend is really such a privilege. I treat them like so many faithless traitors and then I get to pat myself on the back when they leave.

That's who I am now--and I hate it.

I blame her for making me this way, and I blame myself for letting her.

I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to break 25 years of habit.

The Mowing

2011-03-20T17:28:00.000-05:00

Dear Creeper-Neighbor Who Likes to Stare,

Yes Sir, it is only March and I was just out mowing my lawn. Yes, that did happen. You are very astute in noticing. You're such a Brain Trust. I envy you.

Now, I know that since you don't mow your own yard, that my going about this normal, responsible ritual is unique. But I've got to ask this, I really do, is it just as fascinating to watch the people you hire to come mow, spray, and water your lawn?

I would like to know.

Maybe if you stand out on your porch and watch them for an hour while they pull weeds and push a lawnmower around you should pay them more for the entertainment value? Maybe you should pay me for the privilege you creepy mother-fucker?

I'm sorry, was calling you a "creepy mother-fucker" going to far? Did I cross a line? I probably did. I know I was using my reel mower (like I always do the first couple of times) and that's got to startle you. It is something out of the 1950s. But no, you watched me use that last year as well.

Several times actually.

Neighbor, I like to tell myself I use the old push-reel for mulch and propagation, but lets face it. With that house next door vacant, I'll I'm doing is making some yummy food for all the weeds, damn cannibals that they are. Oh, and shaking some weed-seeds loose. Are you staring, for an hour, at the futility of it all?

Because I don't find it futile at all.

Because, with the wind coming from this direction right now, guess where all that chopped up weed-mix is going. No, really. Guess!

That's right, you spooky ass-hat. Enjoy!

Sincerely,

The Woman That's Going to Call the Cops if You Don't Stop Staring at Her

reLENTless

2011-03-13T23:15:00.002-05:00

Ah, the start of a new Lenten season.

Blech.

No really. Blech.

Last year I got on this whole health kick. I used what I will refer to as "The Vindictive Catholic God" as my motivator. It worked until about Halloween when I went all pagan and worshiped the gods of Candy and Laziness.

My ultimate goal for the year, running from Lent to Lent was to lose 60 pounds. I only lost 40. That's good right? I mean, that's freaking awesome...except I kind of gained five back, which makes the final tally 35. But for a brief shining moment, I was 40 pounds less fat than I've been in a long, long, LONG time.

To achieve this, I gave up pop, fast food, and I got off my flabby ass and did a little bit of exercising. I managed to settle for the occasional Cherry Coke Zero and I missed my greasy food. I yearned for a Baconator. I coveted a McMuffin. But I'm pretty sure that if I tried to eat that stuff now, I would convulse and die.

After October and the Food Holidays (you know, Thanksgiving and Christmas?) I snuck in some bad food. Chick-fil-A and some roast beef from Arby's. Then I went on this horrible kick where I ate chips and queso for like thirty meals straight. And then work! Work conspires against me! At work there is carrot cakes and donuts and stress. Stress that makes me eat the cake and donuts.

But now I am back. Back with my Vindictive Catholic God. And oh, the punishment. I tried working out on the rower tonight. I made it 15 minutes before I had to stop. At least I didn't go off and gorge myself on ice cream afterward.

It will be slow and it will be steady...and there will probably be pain, but here's to 40 (eh, technically 35)...or 50 more!

This Is How We Do It

2011-02-22T20:46:00.003-06:00

Jenner and I have been banned from talking to each other. Talking to anyone really. We can't talk, we can't ask for help. I'm pretty sure I can't even sneeze in anyone's general direction.

This doesn't stop us from talking. We just talk with our thumbs.

(texting)
J: My phone hates me.

Me: Maybe your droid has just become self-aware and wants to terminate you.

J: No, I think we've both just gone crazy due to deprivation. And if my phone is self-aware, then it is probably just a whiny emo pre-teen and not an assassin, so I'm okay. Probably.

(later)
J: Do you feel guilty for possibly killing that woman's fish.

Me: Yeah, but not for the normal reasons. I feel like we should have covered it up better. Picked out a fall guy or something.

J: Let's blame S*. Yep, it was totally S* in a fit of rage. Not us.

Me: Yesssss!!!!

J: It's pretty believable.

Me: Yeah, because you know bitch just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

J: True dat.

Me: Ya know it bra.

(and later)
J: We're going walking later right? Right!?

Me: Yeah dude. 45 mins.

J: I need out of here! I'm not going to make it. I'm losing my shit.

Me: Let's plan a coup. That ought to take you mind off things.

J: Ok. What do I need to do?

Me: You bring the Molotov cocktails and pitchforks.

J: I'll work on it. What will you do?

Me: I'm in charge of bringing the militant, yet stylish, berets and fatigues. Plus the planning of all car bombs and the random effigy burning or two.

J: Fine. But we should totally learn Morse code.

Me: Oo! Or Navajo!

(and then)

Me: I want a dinosaur and I shall name him Binky.

J: I'm not going to touch that one.

[No animals were harmed in the making of these texts...that we know of.]

I've Got the Touch

2011-02-15T20:39:00.003-06:00

I think I'm going to be accused of making someone a drug addict tomorrow. If I was allowed to talk about it, this is the part where I would tell you that "a friend of mine works in a certain place, and that place should be referred to as 'the rotting cesspool that is slowly destroying her soul.' If I was allowed to talk about it." But I'm not. So I'm not saying that or anything like that.

I wouldn't betray my friend's trust that way.

How do you make someone you never interact with a drug addict? I really don't know. But Jenner and I...I mean, two friends will be accused of that, along with several other things tomorrow. Not at a work related meeting though. No. Not my work. A friend's work.

Tomorrow will be sunshine and happiness at my job. I love that place. We are having a potluck. I spent two hours making apple dumplings for my coworkers. I love them so much. But I probably can't talk about that either. I won't even talk about good things. But there are some many good things that sometimes I can't contain myself. Like: and then we will have a special meeting afterward where I will be confronted...I mean, congratulated about all that I do. And somethings I don't even do!

Oh the excitement! How I can't even begin to handle it. I'm blessed.

I don't know where that talk of drug addicts comes from. I think I heard it on the radio or something. It's not about a friend. It has no basis in real life. Especially mine. I made it all up. Ramblings of a crazy person. Delusions!

Sunshine and happiness people! There is nothing to see here. Keep calm and carry on.

Didn't Sign Up for This

2011-02-09T21:41:00.004-06:00

It's going to be -4 tonight. It will be 2 when I have to leave for work. On time. In the snow. On time will be thirty minutes earlier than usual. At least.

My pipes froze today. Well, one pipe froze today. I had to call people for help. I had to pay people to help. I hate, hate, HATE asking people for help.

I'm currently running all faucets in a stream. Not a drip, not a drizzle, but a pretty heavy stream. They keep getting a little sluggish, so I run them full blast every once and a while. They'll probably freeze again tonight.

It's supposed to warm up beginning Friday, but there will probably be another freaking blizzard next week.

I'm tired and I'm cranky. I'm unhappy and I'm starting to get a little paranoid. Like, I really think the weather is out to get me. I really do.

I physically hurt. The shoveling and the scraping. The pacing and the stressed, tensed body. I ache.

I want a hug, but about 20% of me wants that hug for comfort and the other 80% wants it for the pressure it would put on vertebra and muscles. I take that back. It's 60% and the remaining 20% just wants the body heat.

I don't think I will ever complain about the hot summers here again. When it's 109 for ten days straight? I will keep my fucking mouth shut. I will be sweaty and hot with a smile on my face and a fucking song in my goddamn heart.

In lighter news: I thought I was going to stop watching Off the Map, but now Nicholas Gonzalez is on the show and I find myself really wanting to lick that man. I will keep watching.

Momma Trauma

2011-02-08T21:58:00.003-06:00

There are traumatic stories from my youth. Instances that I buried so deep that sometimes I don't remember what I've told my mom and what I haven't. Yeah, there was like this brief span, two years or so, where I didn't talk to her unless I had to.

There is this one story that I've told most of my friends. It's one of those awkward stories that was so painful, that now it has become helplessly funny. Very much one of those tales that you share while sitting around the table, like, "Oh, you thought you had it rough? Listen to this!"

It involves me as an eleven year old, a stuffed bear, a school counselor, and my sixth grade class...

Me: "Blech! This reminds me of how I learned to cry on command."

Mom: "What?"

Me: "You know? Sixth grade? My bi-monthly evaluations with Mrs. M*? You know!"

Mom: "What?"

Me: "Yeah, how my teacher would send me to the counselor once a month so, while I was away, she could talk to the class about how sensitive I was because Dad was dying and I needed understanding, blah, blah, blah."

Mom: "What?!"

Me: "I know! Like I even wanted or needed that! Wait...uh-oh."

Mom: "What the hell are you talking about!? I didn't okay anything like that!"

Me: "Ooops."

Mom: "What happened!"

Me: "Um, Mrs. M* used to make me hug a teddy bear in her office and wouldn't let me leave until I cried. Hee!"

Mom: "WHAT!"

Me: "Huh, it sounds much funnier when margaritas are involved."

Mom: "Oh my God! What did they do to you!?"

Me: "They made Ty do it too!" *throws little bro under the bus to save self*

Mom: *frantically dialing little bro on her cell* "Did they make you hug a bear and talk to a counselor when Dad was sick?!"

Ty: "Huh! I always wondered why they made me do that! Don't you--"

Mom: *hangs up on Ty* "Oh! My! God! MY BABIES!"

Me: "Dude, chill. Long time ago, water under the bridge, SO over it."

Mom: "Do you need a hug? I will come down there and hug you right now! I don't even care about the blizzard!"

Me: "And this is why I still don't tell you things."

Ichy

2011-02-03T22:38:00.002-06:00

I am the proud owner of two betta fish. Well, currently two.

Their names are Quint and Hooper...there kind of has to be a Chief Brody.

Quint is a blue veiltail that I've had for about a month and Hooper is a red crowntail that I've had for a little less than a week. Hooper is going to go stay in my work office. That poor bastard. It's like going into the cage with a shark circling the boat.

I had bettas before. I know how to take care of them, but I nearly killed Quint his first week. I was like the Abominable Snowman from Looney Tunes; I nearly smothered him to death with my love.

I bought him a shiny two gallon bowl, a silk plant, a low-powered filter/air pump and a heater. A perfect, spoiled little setup. What I didn't realize was that the heater was fluctuating. It was supposed to be preset to 78, but instead, it would let the temperature drop down to 65 before jacking it up to 85.

I was horribly stressing the hell out of this poor fish. I caught it early, but the damage had already been done. He wasn't eating, he was barely swimming around, he had the beginnings of fin rot. This was all compounded by a case of Velvet.

After about a week of walking on eggshells. Daily water changes, copper treatments, adding in salt, and constant monitoring, he pulled through.

I felt terrible because I almost killed a fish, but he's my fish. It's my privilege to take care of him. To keep him safe, and I failed at that.

I put Alex in a kennel while I went on vacation with my family one time. It was for three days and he punished me for three days after that. He wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. It killed me inside.

I'm the type of person who cares when her pet ignores her. And I'm the type of person who frantically babies a fish to make sure it pulls through. I'm a freak.

I spent the evening watching Quint build a bubblenest and flirt with the red tube of lip balm I'd left out on my dresser. Acting like a normal, happy fish. It was the highlight of my day.

So I guess that makes me the Queen of the Freaks.

(Yes, I really need to get out of this house).

Frozen

2011-02-02T21:06:00.005-06:00

I used to be fearless.

Jumping off buildings, hiking mountains, going 120mph--fearless.

I wanted to jump out of planes, bungee off bridges, swim with sharks--fearless.

But this was before I had responsibilities.

Maybe I'm still fearless...but now I'm also cautious. I have bills to pay. A mortgage. A furkid who would be so very sad (and hungry) if something happened to me. OOo! And now I have fishkids too!

I worry. Gosh, I worry so much. I worry that my job is going to furlough me. I worry about how much my mortgage payment is going to go up because my insurance doubled. I worry that those slate colored cargo pants I love so much make my ass look flat...flatter.

I'm supposed to be at work tomorrow at my normal time. Why is this different from Monday-Friday any other week? It's not. Well, except for the last two days. The last two days, the city has been quite literally buried in snow.

12.1 inches of snow with drifting from 4-8 feet. That's a lot of snow. Well, for Oklahoma, that's a lot of snow.

I shoveled my driveway using a combination of push-broom and carton lid. It's currently...clear-ish. The street in front of my house is a whole nother story. I watched a van and two Suburbans get stuck in it today.

It scares me. Driving in this weather. I don't want to do it. I really, really don't want to do it. I hate it. Hyperventilating, talking to myself, shaking the whole time. Hate it.

I worry that I'll get stuck and no one will find me and I'll freeze to death. I worry that I'll slide and hit someone and kill them or me. I worry that someone will hit me and I'll get out of the car, because I'm so tired of being hit, and strangle them. I worry and it almost incapacitates me.

Frozen.

The last time that happened, I called in and said I wasn't coming. My supervisor raged at me about how the roads weren't bad and I could make it in if I really wanted to. I felt horrible and guilty and I despised myself. It didn't help that all the ice melted by 11 o'clock that day.

I don't want to go in. I don't. I'm getting stir-crazy. I want to be outside. I want to be productive. I just can't.

I can't do that to myself. I don't feel safe. I don't feel comfortable risking myself for something I don't consider important enough to bleed for. Melodramatically enough--die for. I've got three months of leave built up and I want to be there to use it.

I'll sleep on it and reevaluate in the morning, but outlook doesn't look good.

Yeah, maybe it's gutless. People will see it as gutless.

I can live with it.

**Update: Neighbor has been stuck, blocking my driveway for the last twenty minutes. Went out there and asked if I could help. He glared at me and didn't answer. Called in to work. Have fun digging out, you jerk!

Sun and Snow, Wind and Rain

2011-02-01T22:56:00.003-06:00

Maybe because it is OKC Snowmageddon 2.0 or maybe it is because I'm bored, but I spent a good hour today reading my own blog.

It's never a good idea to go back and read your own work. You can edit it, you can review it, you can flip through it. But you should never kick your shoes off and READ it.

Whatever you wrote at that moment is what you were feeling and it's ruined by going back and judging it. What you thought was poignant and moving is now all sappy and arrogant.

That sad, sad moment you went through? The one where you thought your heart was bleeding out onto the computer screen? Yeah, that moment is now melodramatic and whiny. You are a neurotic, mopey little twit. Congratulations!

I had a lot of those moments a little over a year ago. I had the Varnish of Sorrow in my hands and I shellacked that thing all over this site...with a really bad paintbrush. A really cheap nylon instead of a good horsehair.

If I'm joking about it, I think that means I'm better right? That I'm out of my doldrums? Or at least getting there anyway.

I lost a whole lot of friends. Had way too many run-ins with the police. Multiple stalkers. Job trouble. Break-ins, break-outs. Little, tiny stumbles that for some reason were insanely hard to get back up from.

It occurred to me, as I was standing hip deep in snow trying to shovel my driveway with a broom, that I was having fun. I was having the time of my life! Did I mention that it was nine o'clock at night? And it was nine degrees out?

I've been through a lot in the last year...weather wise that is. The random ice storms, the baseball sized hail, the floods--both of them. Hiding in the bathroom while the tornado set down a few miles away. The weeks of sizzling heat with no rain in sight. The negative temperatures and the most recent blizzard.

There is nothing like possible frost bite and hypothermia to put things in perspective.

Things get bad. Wondering what that copper taste in your mouth is--bad, but you've just got to keep going. I think I lost that somewhere along the way, but you keep going.

You keep watering the petunias even though you know they're going to dry out and die. You hide in the bathroom and you pray that the stupid wind is going to taper off. You drip the faucets and you shovel all that cold, white shit out of your way. You do it all.

You keep going. Partly because that is what you HAVE to do, but mostly because you WANT to. Or maybe because mostly you went crazy somewhere between the hail and the swarm of locust.

You keep going. And eventually you smile.

How I've Grown

2011-01-31T20:31:00.003-06:00

It occurred to me, around three in the morning, that I really have changed. And what, you may ask, was the change about?

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Or you know, the men of BTVS.

Buffy came on when I was a tween. Ah, the snarky, quirky angst of that show really appealed to me.

Angel really appealed to me.

I had a signed picture of David Boreanaz that I had to share custody of with my BFF at that time. Lousy bitch "lost" it around the time he departed the show.

Oh Angel. I so wanted to be all dark and twisty and tortured with him. And have dark and twisty and tortured babies together. Ah youth. It's wasted on the delusional. I mourned his leaving the show for his own spin-off. Mostly because I couldn't watch said spin-off. It bored the enamel off my teeth. God it was boring!

BTVS wasn't the same without him. I never liked Riley and at the time Spike just seemed like a shoddy replacement.

That was until my pajama-clad marathon of last night/this morning.

Spike! How could I have ever passed him over with my ever-changing teenage affections? The unrepentant bad boy. The bleached hair? The motorcycle? The leather duster? THE ACCENT?!

I mentally rhapsodized about that accent. Mmh, I love a good accent. Shoot, I love a bad accent. Anything that doesn't twang and require cowboy boots and a hat.

It was right after the Halloween episode of Season Two that I realized that I'm too old for this shit.

I mean we're talking about a fictional character on a show that's been over and done with for a long time. Fictional. Done. Over.

Which leads me to my new love: Aidan from Being Human. ;)

(Now some people can understand why I haven't updated in a while.)

Our Troubles Will Be Out of Sight?

2010-12-15T23:53:00.002-06:00

So, against my will, I am getting into the Christmas spirit.

I usually don't.

My mom was like the Queen of Christmas growing up. Decorations, cards, cookies, sweaters, tree(s), dated ornaments and caroling. I like to think (and tell her) that she broke me. Considering I was the one who had to do all the caroling and half the sweater wearing, it's kind of justified.

I made stockings for the pup and me. His is red and mine is green. We'll skim over the fact that said stockings don't have anything in them at the moment.

I put lights on the house. Lights. On. The House. They are LED and sparkly. I love them.

I made gingerbread men for my work Christmas Party. Do you know how hard those things are to make from scratch? Take my word for it: buy them or go for the pre-made mix. Although, in defense of my actions, those gingy-freaks were amazingly delicious.

My current station on Pandora is all Christmas Carols All the Time. Or that's what I call it anyway. I may be currently singing along to "Silent Night."

This is a complete 180 from previous years. Maybe I'm growing up. Maybe I've pulled that whole Grinch-heart-growing thing. Or, and I think this is most lightly, maybe I'm having some sort of allergic reaction to mistletoe or artificial snow and this is all just some big delusion.

Yeah, probably option three.

Strictly Being

2010-11-08T23:29:00.002-06:00

I fell off the wagon. Hey-oh!

I blame Halloween. Almost as much as I blame myself anyway.

That Friday, my team at work ordered Chinese. I did horrible, horrible things involving Sweet and Sour Chicken, fried rice, and fried dumplings. I also had a root beer. Now, the two things that I have been using as my foundation are: NO fast food and NO soda pop.

That Saturday was my city's trick or treating. I ate seven fun sized candy bars and God knows how many things of Starburst.

That Sunday was my end of the month weigh-in. I, um, maybe, um gained five pounds?!?

Now, granted I did bad things, but five pounds? Really!?!

It's been all down hill from there. With the fast food and the junk and all the leftover Halloween candy.

I gave up. I mean, all this hard work for months on end and very little to show for and then I screw up a bit for a couple days and I gained a tenth of what I lost in eight months? How is that fair? It's not. So I lost hope for a week...well two.

So now I'm back. Definitely not exactly on the wagon again yet. Maybe not even jogging to catch up with the wagon. But I'm totally speed walking towards it.

I realize now that maybe the majority of that five pounds was probably water weight...but my sloughing off was what made it stick. So now I have gained that actual weight and I am off schedule by another three. I am in an eight pound deficit. That leaves four months to lose 25 pounds and reach my ultimate goal of 60 in one year.

It's going to be an interesting ride.

I Think I'm Turning Japanese

2010-10-26T23:43:00.001-05:00

Have I ever mentioned that I'm a quarter Japanese?

Not kidding. My paternal grandmother was born and raised in Osaka. She met my grandfather while he was stationed over there, they got married, had a couple of kids (the youngest being my father), and spent the next 50 or so years making each other miserable. It's a lovely story.

So yes, a quarter Japanese. Growing up, I had a childhood full of gyoza, sushi, anime, and playing dress up in Grandma's getas and kimonos. I never really thought about being different or anything. I mean, what's a quarter in the scheme of things? Besides having high cheekbones, kick-ass hair and "slanty eyes," no one can really tell. And if people do notice something different about me, being from Oklahoma, I'm usually asked what tribe I'm from.

February is my team's turn to put together the work pot-luck. It's a BFD for me because a) I'm super competitive, b) I don't do things half way, and c) I always put together rocking parties. I'm lucky to be on a team with a few like-minded thinkers. We don't want to do something cliched like "Valentine's Day" so we have firmly settled on "Chinese New Year."

It's great, right? We had a meeting a few weeks ago and set out our plans. Only a couple of people at work know about my heritage and one of them not so kindly mentioned that my mom should do all the catering because she's Chinese. WTF? I explained that my mom is not Chinese. "Then your grandma? Isn't she Oriental?" Oh yes. Grandma would have ripped this woman's head off for implying that she was Chinese and then referring to her as "Oriental."

Everyone was confused by our conversation so I then had to explain that my grandmother was Japanese. You would have thought I had piloted a plane straight for them and decided to go all kamikaze on their asses. I have never received so many gaping-mouthed stares of horror and astonishment. To top it all off, my supervisor had this to say: "Wow! I mean, the eyes and all. But wow. I always thought you were an Indian."

I was terribly offended by the whole humiliating ordeal. People should really be ashamed of themselves so that I don't have to be.

I thought it was all settled until we met again today to finalize our decisions. I swear to God, if one more person refers to me or mine as "Oriental," I'm going to hurt them. If one more person makes reference to my "slanted eyes," I'm going to file a grievance. And if one more person stares at me in astonishment/horror because of who my relatives are, I'm going to give them a reason to stare.

I don't understand the fucking problem. It's not like half the world's population is Asian or anything.

Selfishness as My Savior

2010-10-14T21:22:00.001-05:00

This is Part 2 in my ongoing saga...saga? Miniseries? Rant? Who the hell knows what to call this? Anyway, this is Things to Remember: Part 2.

I'm learning that selfishness is a good thing.

In my 25 years, I've tried several things to get me to become a healthier, better adjusted person. Guilt, peer pressure, bribery, and even fantasy. None of this shit works.

You know what works? My own self-interest.

I've discovered that you can't just want to be changed, you can't just need to get on a different path. You've got to enjoy what you're doing. It's got to serve YOU.

I have a quote in my Food & Exercise Journal that says, "Change to please yourself." I've found that I can't do this because everyone wants me to and I can't do this because I force myself to. I have to have satisfaction from changing myself.

I've learned to delight in my own sweat. The sound of my own grumbling as I work out is like music to my ears. I like carrots now! Even without them being slathered in Ranch dressing!

Okay, so that last part is a blatant lie.

But I eat the carrots. I eat the carrots sans Ranch because I know that I can sleep better at night. No seriously, I do sleep better. The last time I tried to eat fast food I had indigestion from Hell that kept me awake. Plus I get this sick, twisted thrill when I notice that my calorie intake from the day hasn't surpassed my limit.

Does the little needle get closer to my desire weight loss goal every time I get on the scales? Fuck no. But someday, soon, it will. Do I automatically feel like a different me when I wake up every morning? God no. But I'm having fun and enjoying myself. And that pleases me so much more than inhaling an entire chocolate cake. And I can now say that part isn't a lie.

37

2010-10-11T23:34:00.002-05:00

Thirty-seven.

That is the number of pounds I've lost since the beginning of March. It has almost been eight months and, while I'm a little off my target, I think I am doing awesome. The goal is to lose 60 in a year and I think I just might make it.

This is the farthest I've been in...well, ever.

I wish I could say I'm all proud and happy, but there has been a lot of negativity...especially on the part of others. To put it lightly, people at work have been total shits and my friends don't really want to talk about it.

My mom (along with my brothers too!) has been amazing, but at the same time she's been extraordinarily pushy. At 5'8" and 115lbs, she's never really had to struggle against weight. She doesn't really understand things like doubts and burnout and the dreaded "Plateau." She pushes and pushes and pushes and I can't really make her understand that I need to do this at my own pace. Like a pudgy little tortoise.

I told myself I wasn't going to write about this, but I think I need an outlet. More than the little Food & Exercise Journal I keep on my iPod.

So here it goes...

Things to Remember, Part 1: This is a "lifestyle change," not a diet. I've learned that thinking of my goals in this light is a whole lot more productive...especially when I screw up. And I do/will screw up...a lot. I mean, sometimes you've got to eat the damn chocolate. It's more for sanity's sake than anything. Don't even get me started on things like pizza, mmh, and queso.

You break down and scarf on a Hawaiian-style pizza? You've just failed at your diet. Do the same with a lifestyle change? You shrug it off because tomorrow is another day. You work a little bit harder and learn from your mistakes...although I don't think Canadian Bacon and pineapple on a crispy crust is ever a mistake. Sin incarnate maybe, mistake not so much.

Change is ongoing. Hopefully, if you're lucky, it's in the direction you want it to be.

Cut Me Down to Size

2010-09-21T23:58:00.006-05:00

When I bought my iPod Touch a couple years ago, the first app I purchased was Distant Shores. It was the number one app at the time and I figured, what the heck? Sounds like fun to me. And it was fun...for a couple of days. The basis of the whole thing is that you wander around this island sending and receiving messages in a bottle. You don't have an ID or anything so if you want to remain anonymous, you can. You can also toss bottles back and forth to an individual if you so choose.

I was cleaning out my iPod about five months ago when I came across Distant Shores...which I hadn't even opened in like a year. I decided before I stripped it off for good, why not go chuck a couple of bottles? I ended up swapping bottles with this...kid.

He seemed funny and nerdy and completely naive in a way that I hadn't been in years, if ever. I figured the chances of him actually being the 20-year old college student he said he was would probably be about 1 in 50, but I figured it was just stupid little quips in a bottle. Innocent.

It got to the point where finding bottles from him was the highlight of my day. I was having serious, serious trouble at work and he was having family issues so it just became these daily bitch/commiserate/cheering sessions. All that anger I gathered at work, he helped me sort through. And all that fear he had about not fitting in with his family and friends, I helped him sort through.

We swapped emails and the daily bottles soon became daily emails. These funny snippets from our days. New recipes I was trying out or my ongoing struggle at trying to get fit. His move back to the Big City and his love of competitive cycling. He became more than this faceless person online. Over the months he became this really good friend. This friend that I didn't have to ever worry about being weird with or offending.

We would swap photos of our beloved dogs and occasionally he would send me pictures of himself. Shots of him working on his bike or wearing new shades--the boy had a serious love of sunglasses. I felt bad about it at the time because I wouldn't reciprocate. Taking photos of myself just seemed foreign and shallow to me and I still very much consider myself a "work in progress." I avoid the front of a camera at all costs. Plus, I figured sending him a photo of me would take our friendship into a strange direction. One that I really didn't want to go in. He was my pal. This dorky guy who very much reminded me of my younger brother. Sending a picture just seemed really...deep.

Let me not kid myself. While I was glad he wasn't really a creepy old man or some junior high girl, I wanted to keep my anonymity.

Anyway, months went by and he was starting to get curious--and wouldn't you be? I mean, he had proven who he was, but even though I never lied to him about myself, I just couldn't bring myself to do the same. It became this daily thing, with him guessing what I looked like. Did I have a mole? A wart? Was there issues with a Quasimodo-type hump? He swore he wouldn't care. He just wanted to know what the friend he had been talking to for so long looked like. A face to go with the words.

I felt bad about it. I mean, here was this guy that helped me through a low point in my life. My confidant and cheerleader. And here I was, too worried about appearances to give him the one thing he was asking for.

So one day, after an early morning plea for a hint at what I looked like, I snapped off a quick picture and sent it to him before going to run errands. Later that night he sent me this odd, disjointed email about playing mini-golf and picking up the girl at the counter and that was the last I heard of him.

It was over a month ago. Here we had been corresponding multiple times a day and now...nothing. I responded to his out of character email and...nothing.

Part of me is angry. Pissed even. Who the hell does he think he is? I mean, seriously, what the fuck? Part of me is also confused. Was our relationship not what I thought it was? Here I thought we were friends, but what the hell did he think we were? And a lot of me is hurt. I mean, I know I'm not gorgeous or anything, but I know I'm not some heinous hag-face.

And even though I fought it desperately, underneath it all is this layer of shame that I just can't shake. This dark, insidious voice that constantly questions, "What is wrong with you?" What makes it so easy for people to leave? What is it about me that is so unworthy? Because when it all boils down, it's always me. Just me.

I suffered a setback. There was lots of loafing around and eating of pizzas and bacon-burgers while I had to sort through this all. Because as I was dealing with this problem, other underlying ones bubbled to the surface...obviously. I'm still caught up in it all, but bit by bit I'm sorting it out.

Maybe when I get this all untangled, I'll post that picture I sent to him. Closure.

Home

2010-08-02T00:29:00.003-05:00

Sometimes, when it's late at night and I'm thirsty, I stumble out to grab myself a glass of tea.

I've given up pop in any form. I don't even drink diet anymore. I feel much better for it, and even though everyone tells me how horrible the tea is for my teeth, I like to think that this is so much more healthier.

I'll put whatever book I'm reading at the time down on my bedspread, sit up, wiggle my toes on my Aubusson-style rug and stretch a bit, snatch up my glass and mosey my way to the kitchen. Alex following along behind my like my own personal, furry bodyguard.

Sometimes, if I step down just right, the hardwood underneath me lets out a creak. Now I know that this probably isn't a good thing. Warped boards, shoddy installation, maybe even a sign of poor upkeep on my part. But all it does is make me feel like I'm at home.

I'm home.

Guess Who Is Who

2010-06-23T21:41:00.008-05:00

My mom recently found this picture of Ty and I.

She seems to think that this photo says so much about our individual personalities. Maybe back in the day, yeah, but now? Definitely not.

I have no idea what she's talking about.

Katie's Meme: Green by the Way

2010-06-08T21:43:00.004-05:00

1. What is your blood type, and how often do you donate blood? If you don't donate blood, why the hell not? Are you afraid of needles, you wuss?

I don't know my blood type. The one time I tried to donate blood, I ended up with someone else's blood all over me and I was scarred...for life.

2. What is your favorite Alien movie? (AVP movies don't count)

ALIENS!!

3. Speaking of AVP, did you notice the Bishop reference Henriksen makes in the beginning? It's awesome! Ten bucks if you can tell me what it is.

The part with the pen between the fingers? I may have squealed and pointed in the theater.

4. Name five reasons why AVP: Requiem was a Godawful piece of crap. Please place them in alphabetical order.

Umm...I liked Requiem better than AVP...

5. Write your favorite bread recipe here.

I don't have one. Feel free to share!

6. Ok, so you're driving in the left hand lane on a 4-lane highway. The right hand lane is empty, and you notice someone coming up quickly behind you. What do you do? (warning: your answer to this question will determine whether or not we can be friends in the future)

Use turn signal and merge to the right after double-checking it's clear.

7. Write your multiplication tables on a sheet of notebook paper as fast as you can. How fast can you do it? (If you had to use a calculator, hit yourself in the head with a hammer)

Ha-ha. No.

8. Name your five favorite Jet Li movies.

The One, Lethal Weapon 4, Once Upon a Time in China, Hero, Fearless.

9. What are your favorite parts of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, in chronological order?

Hi, can we talk? I feel that since I am a girl with the nickname of "Kanigget" that this question is an insult to everything I hold dear.

10. Give your initial impressions of Plotinus' interpretation of the soul. Use 12 point font. Double space.

??? I'm going to assume you're joking.

11. Is Milla Jovovich a good actress or do we make excuses for her because she's really pretty?

She is a "good actress" for the movies that she's in. If she winds up on Broadway, I feel that this is a sign that the end of the world is nigh.

12. "Pride and Prejudice" with Kiera Knightley: best movie ever made? (if you are male, your answer will be stricken from the record)

The part after she argues with Lady Catherine and then meets Darcy in the field? I still sigh.

13. The first three Indiana Jones movies were so good. Please list, in order of significance, the ways in which Spielberg and Lucas screwed up Crystal Skull.

Sean Connery isn't in it, aliens, Denholm Elliott (God rest his soul) isn't in it, aliens, and did I mention the random, fucking aliens?

14. George A Romero, Lucio Fulci, or Dario Argento?

Blech! None of the above

15. Ten bucks if you can name Dario Argento's daughter, and three movies she has been in.

Asia? Europe? Antarctica? Something like that.

16. Cubs or Sox?

I despise the Cubs. The Sox less so.

17. Why do people wear leggings?

Because I'm being punished for the heinous sins I've committed in a past life.

18. Do you recycle? If you don't, why the hell not? Are you too lazy? I oughta tie you up and leave you at the top of a landfill, you jerk! Then I bet you'd recycle!

Yes, but not as much as I should.

19. What kinds of bedding plants do you like to use?

Currently, petunias and geraniums.

20. Did you cry at the end of Jedi, when Luke's fa...er, I mean Darth Vader died? (don't wanna spoil it for the three of you who haven't seen it yet)

Nope.

21. Would you like my banana bread recipe?

Sure!

22. What is your favorite Star Trek movie?

Uh, does the new one count?

23. What was your English term paper about during your senior year of high school?

The Significance of Light vs. Dark and Ambiguity in Peter Jackson's Version of The Lord of the Rings.

24. What is your favorite episode of Firefly?

"Out of Gas." I cried.

25. List, in order of significance, the reasons why the Kill Bill movies were awesome.

REVENGE! Sonny Chiba, the soundtrack, Kick-Ass Women, and there is just something about Tarantino's style that gets me.

26. Why do people get so upset when you can't think of something to get them for Christmas and you get them a gift card?

I don't know. But next year--they get nothing.

27. Why does a bottle of 28 Amoxicillin tablets cost $80?

Because poor drug companies need money too.

28. Have you ever tried Haggis, and if so, what did you think of it?

NO.

29. What is your favorite episode of MST3K?

Couldn't tell you. I haven't seen that show in forever.

30. How do you like to prepare your asparagus?

Far away from me.

31. Do you hassle vegetarians?

No, but I mock vegans.

32. If you could have anything for free for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Books.

33. New Dr Who or old Dr Who?

Neither...

34. List your 5 favorite Ron Perlman movies, in alphabetical order.

Alien: Resurrection, Blade II, Hellboy II, Outlander, and Primal Force.

35. If the Baby Jesus came back today, and the world ended, do you think you'd go to heaven, or to "h" "e" double hockey sticks?

Is Purgatory an option?

36. Can anyone explain to me what the hell happened at the end of the Matrix trilogy?

Spoon?

37. Describe your favorite Wil Wheaton vehicle, be it acting, writing, or general geekery.

His general geekery. Like when he appeared on "I Love the 80s" talking about the good old days.

38. World of Warcraft: Consummate Evil or Gaming Genius?

Sad.

39. Why are little brothers so annoying?

Because God had to punish older sisters for being too perfect.

40. Eragon: brilliant original piece, or total ripoff of Anne McCaffrey?

Ripoff.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

2010-05-12T20:49:00.003-05:00

So, just to recap:

For Lent this year, I gave up fast food. What exactly defined "fast food" I never really settled on, but I did good. I stuck with mostly Subway and a couple of visits (only two!) to sit down restaurants when I did eat out, and ate at home or brought my breakfast and lunch about 85% of the time. In that span of 40 days, I saved about $350 and lost about seven pounds. I promptly spent those savings on clothes in a smaller size and belts. Ah, belts! I'm currently between sizes in pants. *Sigh*

It has been a little over a month post-Lent and I'm still trying to keep up the good fight. I'm still doing my almost-daily walks and while I've had some fast food, I'm pretty sure I can count the number of times on one hand. Originally, I couldn't do that for a week-span, let alone five weeks. I've probably lost an additional five pounds.

Twelve pounds. It may not seem like a lot, but for a girl that, since high school, has done nothing but gain weight, it's wonderful. I've cut my calorie count by, like, half, I have more energy, and I'm happier with myself.

There are some bad days, like just last Friday. Those are the days where I think about giving up and fall back on my evil ways. Do things like eat over 3,000 calories in junk. But I just need to remember that this is a work in progress.

It's going to take a while, but I'm doing better.

New Camera, Yea!

2010-05-01T18:18:00.003-05:00

Alex pled "Innocent" in the case of The Knocked Over Glass of Tea:

The jury wasn't convinced...and the penalty was DEATH:

I'm kind of enjoying the new camera. Just a little bit.

And yes, I do realize that I'm a dork.

Communing With Nature

2010-04-14T19:46:00.002-05:00

We are well on to month three of home-ownership. Things are going great. I mean, I am really having a lot of fun and all around good times. There are some bumps though. Nature-y type bumps.

I have WASPS. Not the stick up the ass, snobby people, but the winged variety. They will not leave! I have set traps, sprayed them, bombed them, fogged them, and even wailed on them with a stick. I would just forget about the whole ordeal if I wasn't afraid Alex would get stung. On the whole, they are a calm, reasonable bunch. Damn scary looking though, and I'm pretty sure they want to get stuck in my hair, which I cannot allow.

Both my front and back yard are currently riddled with weeds. I've already had to mow four times. I'm experimenting with different treatments, but nothing seems to be sticking yet. At least I don't have those awful musk-thistle things again. Freaking dandelions from Hell. Luckily, it hasn't been very hot down here yet, so I can just slip on my grubby clothes, plug in the iPod, and peacefully mow.

I was digging up a flower bed yesterday and chopping up some dirt clods when I came across something that wasn't a clod. IT WAS A TOAD! I wasn't really paying attention and it jumped out at me and I squealed like a little piggy. Turns out there is a whole family of the little guys. Apparently they are good for the garden and are said to bring good luck. I want to get them a little house that looks like a mushroom. Wouldn't that be adorable? First, I have to make sure they survive the Wrath of Alex.

I have a couple of projects in mind: fix the front window box, put flowers in the said box, stain and seal the deck, get furniture for the deck, plant a rosebush or five, tame the wild jungle that is my backyard, and after all that is done, enjoy a frosty glass of lemonade while surveying MY land. Mine.

Beautiful Dreamer, Wake...Up Right Now!

2010-03-15T00:25:00.002-05:00

I've been having some weird dreams lately. I guess you could call them more like nightmares.

Last Saturday, I had this horrible dream of coming home from work and seeing Alex across the street. I started yelling at him and he came running over and then I started screaming at him to stop, but he just kept coming and then he was hit by a 1978 steel-gray Chevy Impala driven by my evil ex-roommate. She hit him, put it in reverse, and then ran back over him. I don't know how I knew it was an Impala, let alone a '78, dreams are just strange like that I guess. I took Alex inside and pieced him back together with parts from my desk lamp. He was fine after that, but every time his tail wagged, a light bulb would turn on somewhere in the house.

On Monday, I had this twisted dream that I was marrying my evil ex-roommate's boyfriend. Unwillingly. I mean, very unwillingly. He kept chasing me around trying to put this heart-shaped, mind control necklace on me. It was a horrible, tacky gold with faux-ruby inlays. We were going to get married on a paddle-boat in the Oklahoma River. I was wearing a champagne colored dress made completely out of french lace and satin. It was gorgeous, but under the circumstances, I would be happy never to see it again. I ended up jumping over the side. Just as the priest asked the question about how if there are any people here who thinks these two should not be married...I woke up kicking.

Thursday night was terrible. I had this nightmare that my old landlord was suing me for "damages." It was especially terrible because he did threaten to do that before I left. I fixed most everything that was damaged before I moved. I patched the hole that Alex had dug in the backyard, replaced the blinds in the kitchen, and cleaned up all the mess. The only thing I couldn't fix was this hole that Alex and Daisy had dug into the drywall outside on the patio. The hole was already there when we moved in, the dogs just kind of widened it. I even bought the materials to fix it, but the landlord kicked me out early and then threatened me. Anyway, the AC is still broken there as far as I know. Not my fault. I just had this horrible nightmare that he was coming after me for that. He chose to not fix it when we asked for help. It's all on him. It kept me up all day Friday night. I just couldn't sleep.

I hate this.

Why can't I have normal dreams about puppies and rainbows and unicorns?

Here Comes the Not-Bride

2010-03-07T22:05:00.002-06:00

Okay, so Jenner and her boyfriend of, like, a decade finally decided to get married. I was way excited! I mean, Jenner is the closest thing to a best-friend that I have and her fiance is great. I was also one of the first people that they told which made me feel all warm and gooey.

This all went down about the time my dream of owning a home was finally coming to fruition. I was feeling all grown up and excited and she was feeling all grown up and excited. We were two excited grown ups.

I was so happy and full of hope; I felt like I was going to explode sometimes. Except, I always got the feeling that she didn't want to hear about it. That my moment was overshadowing hers or something stupid like that.

It had to be all in my head, right? I mean, Jenner is my friend. I was so giddy when she told me her news, why wouldn't she feel the same for me?

I don't think she does feel the same for me, though. I have all these wonderful ideas for upgrading my home and decorating and we never get to talk about them. We would always talk about her wedding dress or the date or what food to have. She actually frowns when I mention anything to do with "home," "mortgage," or "my house."

It got to be so hard to be happy for her when it felt horrible to be happy for myself. Then Jenner asked me to be a bridesmaid and part of me was glad, but there was a side of me that was just resentful. After her dress and all that other stuff had been tossed about again and again, now we get to carry on about what dress I'm going to wear and the shoes, and the flowers, and the pace I had to walk down the aisle, and how not to overshadow the bride, and on and on and freaking on.

Now I get to use the money I was going to decorate with to throw the Bachelorette Party. I had these really cute Moroccan Tile paintings to hang in the living room picked out. This lovely Aubusson rug for the master bedroom. Adirondack chairs for the deck. But I don't get to talk about those things.

We talk so much about this wedding that I'm starting to have nightmares. I'm not over exaggerating. I had this dream Friday night that I was being forced to marry this guy, but instead of a ring, he kept trying to put this mind-control collar on me. I woke up kicking. I thought that would be the end of it, but the dream actually carried over into Saturday night. Our wedding was going to be held on a paddle boat in the Bricktown Canal.

August. I just have to get to August.

Not Too Unattractive and the Beasts

2010-02-27T21:23:00.003-06:00

Did you know I was Catholic? Or, well, I was raised Catholic anyway. The whole guilt thing didn't really work for me. I'm all "Je ne regrette rien" and the Church is all "Repent now dirty sinner!" It just doesn't mix well at all.

I do still up hold some things though--Lent being one of those things. Every year I don't eat delicious hamburgers on Fridays and I give something up. Usually that something is silly. One year I gave up chewing gum, another I gave up cussing. This year, I decided to take it seriously. This year I gave up fast food, non-diet soda, and cut back on my needless spending.

Hardcore!

Both my brothers have decided to get back in shape. Ty had always been fit and freakishly, enviably cut and Chris was in shape until he left the Army. Ty put on the dreaded Freshman Fifteen and Chris has been the definition of couch potato for the past four years.

And then there is me. Moodiness wasn't the only thing puberty granted me. I became a chunkster. And a chunkster I have stayed.

I've used several excuses over the years. I'm too busy, I'm too depressed, I'm too used to being this way. I'm also too competitive to let my brothers have all the glory.

So here we go. I guess I'll consider this a 40-day trial period.

Drip, Drip, Drip

2010-02-15T11:38:00.005-06:00

I am currently waiting for the plumber. How exciting, I know. No, no, no, no. No.

I bought a washer and dryer last week and even though they were supposed to deliver within 24 hours, they were so over-booked that I cut them some slack and said that they could wait until Saturday. So yeah, I could wait another week to do my laundry because I absolutely refuse to do it at a laundromat.

Anyway, they delivered them Saturday and were supposed to install them and everything. I was sitting on my couch reading a book, maybe with a weapon hidden on my person, you don't know. (I don't trust strangers in my home.) I hear a "Oh, shi---crap." And I become a little concerned. I get called into the laundry room and told that I need a plumber...immediately if I can swing that.

You know, women get called on over-reacting all the time, but it is really men who do that. Turns out one of the valve-thingies leaks. I just told the dude to shut it off--problem temporarily solved. I then spent some time on the phone with the home warranty people and got set up with a plumber. I am waiting now and quietly hoping that he's just going to come in here, maybe replace a nut or bolt, twist a knob, tighten something, and then leave. Nothing major.

Yeah.

I need to do my laundry! I want to do my laundry! Today! Pray for me.

*Updated: valve-thingy turned out to be a faucet-thingy that wasn't covered. I may have made puppy-dog eyes and got the deductible rolled into total cost and the inspection covered anyway. Still had to pay out of pocket, but really not that much. Clean clothes, here I come!

The Ego of My Youth

2010-02-13T00:50:00.003-06:00

I don't really follow horoscopes much. I think the whole astrology thing, while fun, is a little loony. One thing that has always caught me though, is that I'm an attention hog. It's one of the traits of being a Leo. Spotlight-loving Divas.

I don't go out of my way to get attention...usually. I'm actually a hard-core introvert, but when I do something I deem, well, awesome, I want all eyes on me. I don't want people to bow and mince, but I would like a little awe, a little respect. A little bit of being noticed.

If I could talk about work in-depth, I would say that when I switched over to my unit, I freaking rebooted the whole thing. Deadlines started getting met, errors dropped by 75% and our statistic report was comparable and even better than most of the other offices. This is notable because before, we were kind of viewed as under-achieving losers. Like, in the bottom 5% Losers.

Our numbers lately have been astounding. I'm not kidding. I know it's not all about me. I'm part of an amazing team and once I was added, everyone just started firing on all cylinders. Competition can sometimes work wonders. When Jenner switched over a few months later, numbers dipped a tiny bit lower and we've been pretty consistent ever since.

No one ever mentions that I may have had something to do with our new good fortune. And when I was written up for some bullshit reason a couple of months ago, I was devastated. Instead of validation I got smacked down. I'd never been written up for anything before in my life. I mean, there was that one time I got detention in junior high, but that was for chewing gum outside at lunch, so it was stupid. Just like this time was stupid.

The thing was: I was holding onto files for too long. Instead of finishing one project and immediately passing it on, I was holding onto it for a couple of days. This mainly had to do with the fact that, at the time, I didn't know where to pass these files on to. The section I was supposed to give it to was so behind schedule that I literally had no place to put these files. So, I was written up and "talked to" and there is now a permanent black mark in my file about how I am irresponsible with my work load.

No mention of how good I was doing, just the bad.

The other day Jenner and I were in a lot of meetings and trainings. Through it all, there were congratulations on Jenner's engagement. People complementing her outfit. People commenting on her cleared-up complexion even. Coworkers asking how she was able to keep up on all her work. I was largely ignored, so much so, that I jumped into the conversation about how Jenner could do such amazing work, by popping up and saying my numbers were still better than hers.

WTF? I never do shit like that! I hate people who do things like that. Everyone just kind of stopped and turned to gape at me. Like the horrible green-eyed monster that I was. I don't want to be that person.

Before, whenever I described Jenner and my friendship, I always said we were Shawn and Gus from Psych. Jenner playing straight-man to my eccentric persona. At that moment at work, I felt like I was dangerously close to becoming Salieri to her Mozart.

How do you get over that?

Without the Snow, Who Knows?

2010-02-08T23:12:00.002-06:00

Well, I figure I have to write something as the spam has gotten out of control up in here. It always seems to quiet down when I post.

Things at home are not quite what I thought they would be. While I am extremely happy, I am also nervous, stressed, and inordinately angry with my furkids.

The cat got the boot on, like, the third day. She is now an outdoor minion of the Dark Lord. She's off communing with nature, probably sacrificing woodland creatures. Or, you know, living in my shed plotting my doom.

Q had a problem with keeping her bodily fluids either in her body or in the litter box. It would've been tolerable for a while if she hadn't dragged herself through it and created art all over my laundry room. I would've just crated her for a bit to try to correct it, but I might have been yelling at her when Alex decided that I would appreciate a full on blitzkrieg on her ass. He didn't get her, what with me running from the room with her over my head, but it was a near and scary thing.

Alex has decided that he doesn't like the lattice work on the deck, and will therefore eat it until it is all gone. I don't like the lattice work either (looks cheap), but this is unacceptable. He also enjoys rolling around in the mud. Easier to squeeze by me when I open the door to yell at him and spread muddy joy all over the hardwood and new furniture. And there is a lot of mud right now. A lot of snow-riddled, ice-encrusted mud. I should know, I've slid off the deck and fallen into it twice.

I yelled "Whee-eeeee!" All the way down both times, which must tell you something about my mental state.

Alex also broke the padlock on the shed and proceeded to eat my weed-eater and drag my electric/battery-powered, $600 lawnmower out into the snow/rain. If you keep up with me on Twitter, you know that the lawnmower is like my baby. I love it for its red, shininess and easy, energy-efficient operation. I hope, pray devoutly, that there was no damage, but who knows?

My neighbors probably think I am some crazy Meth-addict who stands around in the pouring rain/snow yelling and cursing. I dropped the f-bomb like there was no tomorrow.

Despite all this, I feel happy and warm and safe. Each and every instance I have mentioned above sticks with me for about as long as it takes to clean up the mess, and then I move on. It's neat...and weird.

Code Purple: The Home Addition

2010-01-23T21:54:00.003-06:00

So. I bought a house.

That was my big news.

It was also the dream I had that I thought Steph had screwed me out of. But she didn't. I win and she is still a horrible, selfish person that I hope trips and falls on her evil face. And did I mention? I won!

It is very exciting and very scary. And I'm so happy right now that I don't know where to put it all. Corny but, I wish I could bottle up the excess and store it for when I need it down the road.

The adventure started after the burglary. I kind of decided that not going after what I wanted because I thought I wasn't ready was only hurting me. Emotionally, mentally, physically, financially--it was hurting me. There was so much pain.

I really want to take pictures and post them, but replacing my camera is down on the list. There's furniture, new TVs, rugs, washer/dryer, and so on and so forth. Good news: mortgage is way cheaper than rent.

Bad news: I've got to clean up and move out of the shit hole in which I've been living It's just me and myself doing all the moving and cleaning too. And the shit hole is in poor condition.

Yeah, I kind of got all carried away in the saving money/finding a lender/finding a house/panicking/working/filling out paperwork/stressing swing of things and I kind of left out things like cleaning and dusting and maintaining a livable environment. It's Suckville over there. Population: Me.

I spent my first night at MY HOME last night and it was so soothing. Please, please, please, may it stay soothing...and happy...and good. Just for the next 80 years or so. That's all I ask.

How I Wish You Were Here

2010-01-17T23:03:00.003-06:00

I miss writing. Dear gods how I miss writing! But there is nothing to write about. I mean, there is stuff to write about, but it is in its baby-stage right now. Its terribly new, terribly delicate, horribly scary baby-stage.

Eh, maybe next week I write about it. Next week...

What was I typing? Oh yes. I miss writing. I think part of the reason I'm so lax about it lately is that now I tweet. Twitter is a quick, messy fix. Another reason might be that I have no life right now. Seriously!

I'm focused on my baby-stage project. Total tunnel-vision. I'm having nightmares about it. I eat, sleep, breathe this right now. I hate it and love it. It's the most awesome thing in the world and also it gives me chills.

Things at work are kind of shaky. Back in September, KB left for El Paso. After she left, things just seemed to fall apart.

The three remaining members of our little troupe tried to stick it out and be the devoted and loving friends we had been, but it all blew up right around Halloween.

Yahtzee, for some unknown reason, changed two days before Halloween. One moment we were planning the office party and the next, she was sending Jenner and KB texts about how I am "mean, rude, and crude," and calling me a bitch on Twitter and Facebook. She told Jenner that she was just a cupholder in my car. I don't even know what that means! KB tried to remain neutral, but everything just went awkward.

Yahtzee tried to apologize, sort of, on Halloween, but it was bad. Really bad. It was along the lines of, "I'm sorry that I posted that passive-aggressive stuff instead talking about it like rational adults. I hope this doesn't affect our work-relationship." Then she looked like she wanted a group hug or something.

The apology didn't go over well and Jenner was the one who ripped into her, not me. I just stood there looking at the wall. Sick of feeling betrayed and abandoned. I hate this feeling, but in the end, it is always me feeling this way.

I always end up abandoned and I know I can sometimes be mean, I'm definitely not crude, and rude is stretching it. I'm not a bitch to my friends, but things keep turning out this way and so that means it has to be me, right? When the only thing in common in all your failed relationships is you, then it's you!

I just don't know anymore. I guess I do have things to write about; they just make me sad.

A New Spin

2009-12-24T17:12:00.005-06:00

'Twas the night before Christmas and all thro' the duplex,
There was nothing to eat, not even rice Chex.
The stockings weren't hung, I was supposed to be with the fam,
But the blizzard closed the roads, blocked the garage like a dam.

Alex was stuck in the house 'cuz the fence was all broke.
The neighbors were outside to tweak and to toke.
I was curled up in ball to avoid further mishap.
Trying so hard to forget this with a nap.

When outside the door there arouse such a noise,
Didn't piss myself but totally lost poise.
I flew to the closet and got locked in right tight,
I should've just figured this wasn't my night.

Was it a burglar sneaking across the new snow?
Or a junkie looking for some blow?
I knew what I wanted, what I wished would appear,
A tricked out snow plow, screw the reindeer.

I would spring to the plow with a yip and a yell,
Drive out of this place that's too cold to be Hell.
People would hear me exclaim as I rolled out of sight,
"Gawd I hate Christmas! Especially this night!"

Apologies and thanks to Clement Clarke Moore for the borrowing of his original work.

Make the Lamb Stop Screaming

2009-12-06T00:04:00.003-06:00

I came home from work the other day to find my garage was open by about a foot or so. Just open like that is the way it should be. Open and it wouldn't open anymore than that.

I couldn't go in through the front because it was barricaded and I couldn't go in through the back because it's barred from the inside. I had to slither under and I got stuck halfway through. I looked up to see my previously locked door to the house wide open. Then there was some wild, manic squirmy and ripping before I came loose.

Was it another burglary? Why the fuck does this keep happening to me? Do I even have anything else left worth stealing? Seriously, what the fuck?

I checked my room, nothing missing. Went into my living room and the door was unlocked and cracked open. Called the landlord and found out the fucker had come over for a termite check and had attempted to ruin my life with a premature heart attack.

After accusing me of breaking the garage door...we had a little chat. This is the same asshole who, little over a month earlier, left my front door open for the first time and I ended up getting robbed. The same dumb fuck who let me roast alive without an air-conditioner. Yeah, like I'm passively going to take the blame for his bullshit.

After everything calmed down a bit, I'm getting a new garage door on Monday. Gods know what he's going to break then. It's his house, he can destroy whatever he wants. I just wish he would leave me, what's left of my meager belongings, and my sanity out of it.

Number #2

2009-11-30T23:18:00.002-06:00

I just realized that I only had one entry for the month, and that simply can't be! I won't allow it!

I wish I had something funny or interesting to write, but I really don't. The good news out of all of this is that I don't have anything truly bad to update with either. Oh, except I broke two toes and ripped all the skin off of the l'il one the other night.

That hurt like a sonovabitch! Capital Sonovabitch! The last, and only other thing I've had broken before this was a finger. I'm in new and painful territory right now. Strangely, I didn't know that the littlest piggy was so necessary to things like, oh I don't know, walking.

I limped around work all day today and no one asked me what was wrong. It was like my Igor-walk was the norm. And that made me a little sad...and very self-conscious. Of course, if someone would have asked me what was up, I would have shrugged it off as nothing or asked them if they wanted to see the four different colors my toes have turned. I wouldn't have shown them the squishy stuff that is under the skin though.

Because I really wished I hadn't have seen the squishy stuff either. That might be the most painful part.

Jeez, I really can't believe we're rolling into December. Here's to another month!

It Implies That There is Control to Be Had

2009-11-12T18:54:00.004-06:00

It's been a while since I've written in here. Usually I try to check in once a week or so. Now? Not so much.

Fact is? Life has been pretty lame lately. I'm kind of afraid to do anything. I'm not anxious or sick to my stomach, but I want life to be as calm and soothing as can be. I wake up in the morning, feed the "kids," and go to work. I work at a job that has turned kind of boring, and race home to see what other kind of catastrophe has befallen me.

I keep my extra-activities to a minimum and I lug my laptop with me wherever I go. So afraid that someone is going to come back and steal it. Or the roof is going to cave in on top of it. Or it will just poof out into a plain of existence that I cannot follow. The place where missing socks go.

My life has become all about cleaning up messes and trying to stop messes from happening. Most of the messes aren't even mine. It is figuratively and literally damage control. That's all it is right now. And I hate it. I hate it so much.

I want to leave this godforsaken place. This duplex from Hell...and I have a plan that, hopefully, will soon be set in motion. I can't even work up the energy to type an evil laugh for that.

Again, The Madness

2009-10-23T18:56:00.002-05:00

I forgot to turn in my cable bill yesterday. It's not due for another week and a half, but for some reason, I had to drop it off last night. It needed to go out with the other bills! I don't know why it was so vitally important.

Because I thought it was necessary to drop off a bill at 1:00 am, I ended up with a $234 speeding ticket. Yeah, that 35 I thought I was in? Was really a 25 mph zone.

Paying the bills was supposed to be something I could control. I made them out, signed them, placed the checks and stubs in the envelopes, stuck on the stamps, and dropped them into the mail box. Easy and easily controlled.

My ignorance of the speed limit (which is absolutely no excuse) made my stupid, compulsive behavior very, very expensive.

I want, no need, for this month to be over.

I have been watching Grey's Anatomy lately and it has been life-saving. It soothes me like nothing else. It's weird. But at least I know it's weird.

Here's a quote I really appreciated...

Dr. Wyatt: "Yes. Horrible things DO happen. Happiness in the face of all of that? That's not the goal. Feeling the horrible and knowing that you're not gonna die from those feelings...that's the point." From Season 5, Episode 2: "Dream A Little Dream of Me."

Code Purple #11

2009-10-19T18:46:00.000-05:00

MY: "Do you have a gun? Pepper Spray? Why are you still staying there? Aren't you scared!?!"

Me: "Nope."

MY: "This person...these people, they broke into your house and they took your things. They could come back and, like, kill you, rape you, cut you up into little pieces!"

Me: "Yep, they very well could."

MY: "Why aren't you worried? Why aren't you crying? I would cry! I would be so scared, but you. You? There's nothing. Don't you feel anything?"

Me: "Of course I do. I'm angry and scared and just so upset."

MY: "Right, then why don't you show it?"

Me: "What purpose would that serve? For me to break down? It's bad. My whole situation right now is fucked. I know this. But I got to go forward. I've seen worse, I've been through worse, and this, this right here? It's not over. I can't stop, I can't break. So, I've just got to keep going."

MY: "I don't get you."

Me: "S'cool. I don't get you either."

Black October

2009-10-16T18:39:00.004-05:00

I would just like to thank my landlord for leaving my door wide open while he went to pick up supplies to fix it. Thank you. I didn't need that flat screen TV anyway.

So yeah, came home yesterday to find my TV and my old laptop gone. Considering that I fried the hard-drive on the computer, I wasn't too upset about that. But the TV? Come on!

Plus it totally squicks me out that someone was in my room going through my things. Thievery is just horrible. It is horrible and lazy and just plain rude.

I'm starting to think that October is just no good for me. I'm actually starting to think that October has never been good for me.

Yeah.

**UPDATE** Fuckers took my goddamn camera too. I loved that camera! Fuckers.

The Luck, It Continues

2009-10-14T20:35:00.003-05:00

So, I left work today and meandered over to the library. I had some books to return and some books on reserve to pick up. I wasted about an hour and a half there. Then I went by Target to stock up on Halloween candy and swung by a drive-in to pick up some food. Normal, everyday boring life.

I came home and went in through the garage door. I walked up front to swing around to the kitchen to let the dog in through the patio. I made it to the main hallway and noticed that, gee, my front door is wide open and the frame is now in my living room.

Yes, that's right. Someone kicked in my door. Yeah, my house has been broken into...again.

I didn't call the police because, really, what's the point? Nothing was taken--there is nothing to take. I really wasn't in the mood to call the police, have an over-worked officer come by, explain my story, make a report, and then have nothing happen.

No panicking, no elevated heart rate, no hyperventilation. It's all kind of boring. I'm really becoming an old hand at this.

It's just one more bump in an already treacherous road.

Trick-or-Treat?

2009-10-12T21:38:00.003-05:00

So, it is what? 18 days away from Halloween? I love Halloween. I love the decorations and costumes. I adore the candy and the trick-or-treating. I'm keen on the spooky stories and movies. I respect the traditions and spirituality. And I enjoy a good jack-o-lantern carving.

I remember the first costume I got to pick out on my own. It was a witch and I remember very clearly telling my mother that I didn't want to paint my face green because only bad witches had green faces. Witch, ghost, jester, masked serial-killer. There was always a costume for some trick-or-treating fun. Well, at least until I passed the age of twelve. Then there was just costumes and passing out candy.

For the past six years, I sit around in my costume (a witch again this year! Alex will be Dogula and Q is going to be my devilish familiar!) with my bowl of candy...and no one ever shows up. Not even the creepily pathetic high-schoolers looking to score some free food. No one! Then I spend the next week drowning myself in all the leftover chocolate.

Do kids not trick-or-treat anymore? Do people not even celebrate? My work wasn't even going to acknowledge Halloween until Yahtzee, Jenner, and I pitched a fit. Now there will be office decorating, costume wearing, and treat-giving. I just seriously doubt anyone else besides us will participate.

Code Purple #10

2009-10-05T17:44:00.004-05:00

I thought since I hadn't written in here for almost a month, something must go up.

So, on the anniversary of my father's death, I get to find out that someone stole his identity. That's great right? I mean, that is just another little pothole in the road to hell that is my life. What was the point of notifying SSA and the CRBs twelve years ago? Seriously.

Alex ripped the television cable out of the wall. He has also dug a hole that is about three feet wide and three feet deep in the back yard. I think he is trying to bury the four posts he tore off the fence. Maybe he's making a fort around the hole with the posts and needed the cable to tie everything together. I really don't know. I really don't want to know.

My appointment at the bank was canceled so I don't really know where I'm at right now or where I'm going to be. I'm kind of just in this holding pattern. This anxious, jittery holding pattern.

I want to be in a vacuum. I remember wishing that after my dad died. I didn't want to feel, I didn't want to do, I didn't even want to be. The vacuum I want right now isn't that bad. I just want some drama-less calm. It's just that I feel like I'm in this storm. This miserable windy, torrential storm and I keep waiting for the eye, and I'm not even sure there is one anymore.

I just want to stand in a moment of utter peace. My head tilted back, a smile on my face and the sun warming me to the marrow. There can be a breeze. Just a little one. Enough to flick my hair about. Mmmh, good times.

It's A Start

2009-09-13T23:48:00.002-05:00

So, I had Friday off. It was weird. I kept thinking the entire time that it was wrong and I should have been at work. Since I'm not a total loser, I didn't go into work, but I decided to stop being such a scared little girl about something.

I finally contacted my bank about straightening out some of my financial...hurdles. I stopped by their website, picked a name out of a lineup, and shot off an email. It took about five minutes to type up something professional and proof-read. Then I pushed the "send" button without looking back.

I really didn't think anyone would contact me back, at least not on the same day. I freaked out when someone did. They emailed me back three hours later and wanted to know what I wanted to do. I didn't know what I wanted to do! I'm going to email them back Monday morning and see about setting up a face-to-face meeting.

Holy crap.

No really. Holy. Crap.

I feel like whenever this meeting takes place, I need to be ready. Which means the day before will be spent crying and being irrational so that none of that peeks out at the interview. And then maybe take a day or two off of work. A mini-vacation...spent curled up in a ball at my mom's house.

I like to prepare for the worst. If you didn't notice.

I've also been reading The Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker. Also to prepare for the worst. This whole entire time, I thought I was being safe. Putting myself in safe situations. Oh, buddy. It's a great book, but at the same time, it is just making me even more paranoid about CreepyGuy@Work.

And I was already so, so very paranoid to begin with.

One Year

2009-09-09T21:57:00.002-05:00

It is Alex's birthday today! Get excited!

For some reason, I thought he would turn a year old and then he would automatically calm down into a reasonable, mature, rational creature. Bwa-haha! Yeah, that ain't going to happen anytime soon. Maybe next year.

This time last year, I was so excited. I was moving into a house with someone I thought was my best friend. I had an awesome job, supposedly great friends, and money in the bank. I was THERE. That place that felt nice and safe and fun, fun, fun!

I thought I had at least a couple of years there.

Now. Now, it's a daily struggle to keep my chin up. My job, while still cool, allows a creepy guy to basically stalk me. The money in the bank? Pa-shaw! That move with my best friend ended up being one of the worse decisions of my life. And those supposedly great friends? You never know how fast people can run until they are running away from you.

I bet Alex didn't know that me hugging and rocking him for comfort would be his birthday gift.

It was so odd. I remember driving home from work today and smiling and laughing while singing "What I Got" by Sublime and then getting home and realizing that life isn't a song. Why am I singing when I should be worrying?

I think I made myself have an anxiety attack.

Happy Birthday Alex! Congrats on your mom being a wacko.

Sanity, Table for One

2009-09-01T20:52:00.003-05:00

I've calmed down since the last incident and have done some research on hip dysplasia. There are actually several options, thank you very much.

Right now, Alex and I are taking the non-surgery route. People have recommended awesome things, such as glucosamine supplements, Nutra-joint shakes, and even massages. Surgery just isn't an option at the moment. There are three types of surgery most common for this situation and he is too old to do two of them and the other is only if the dog is showing signs of strain.

Alex is fine at the moment. His limp is gone, he is eating well, and there is absolutely no sign that his hips are bothering him. Plus, the only orthopedic vet office here wants a down payment for the consult. Down payment. For the. Consult. Just the consult! I thought about just talking with these people just to see what the options are, but I think that is kind of ridiculous when Alex is feeling fine and feeling frisky.

Work has been...interesting lately. I spent ten minutes in my boss's office today explaining why The CreepyGuy@Work bothers me so much. The basis of the conversation? He stares at me--all the time. He will roll his chair out into the aisle to stare at me. He presses his face against my window and makes weird...weirder faces. He leaves me passive-aggressive notes. He says horrible things about me in his team meetings, he tries to get me in trouble with management, and I think he breaks into my office and does "stuff" when I'm not there.

None of this is pervy. It is more like he hates me so much that he doesn't know what to do with himself. He is slowly deteriorating in both looks and verbal capacity. He now twitches and makes noises whenever I walk by. The facade of sanity is rapidly slipping through his bony, sweaty fingers.

If you've ever read Mr. Perfect by Linda Howard, then imagine the killer in that as CreepyGuy@Work and imagine me as a younger, more vulnerable Jaine Bright.

I was one anxious ramble away from telling my boss that I'm afraid this guy wants to cut my face off and wear it as a party hat.

Some contingencies have been implemented and we're going to see how that goes. That is business lingo for "I'm going to buy a taser" Any recommendations on brand or voltage?

Code Purple #9

2009-08-23T15:30:00.004-05:00

My grandmother used to have this canvas with kanji on it. I asked her what it meant one time and apparently it said: "Fall down seven times. Get up eight." It was hanging in her bathroom so I never really took it that seriously.

Lately it has become my mantra, so to speak. It basically means to me that bad stuff is going to happen. It's unavoidable. You just have to keep going and shake it off.

There is also a quote from a movie I like: "We have an expression in prize fighting: 'Everyone has a plan until they've been hit.' Well my friend, you've just been hit. The getting up is up to you." It's given by a very scruffy Michael Douglas who ends up being eaten by an evil lion.

I've always figured that as long as there are not any man-eating lions around, I'm doing pretty good in life.

Friday, I was mowing the stupid lawn and I think it killed my brand-new lawn mower. While I was pacing back and forth, I looked over when I realized Alex wasn't pacing with me. He was just standing there on three legs and not four. His left hind leg was curled up as close to his body as he could get it.

I took him inside and had him lay down. He wasn't yelping or licking and he let me palpate and probe. I figured he just tweaked it or something.

Saturday he was still limping but putting weight on it. I thought he was getting better so I went to drop the mower to get looked at and then spent the day hanging out with friends.

I got home last night and Alex was still limping and hadn't eaten anything. I decided to wait until Sunday to take him to the vet and see if I could get him to eat anything.

We went to the vet this afternoon and it was not good news. It wasn't even mediocre news. It was bad news.

It's Alex's hips. His very bad, big-dog hips with minuscule sockets and overly large ball-things. So basically, what I'm trying to say is, I just spent $300 dollars so some socially incompetent man could tell me that there is nothing I can do for my best friend.

I laughed. I made this choked sort of laughing noise. And then I spent the next ten minutes trying to wake my baby up and not sob uncontrollably while this dude is telling me that things are only going to get worse and that there really isn't anything I can do to stop it. Surgery's not really an option apparently.

I made it out the door and got Alex in the car before I just couldn't take it anymore. I'm sure the people in the parking lot appreciated the wild, wounded animal noises I was making.

What do I do now? I just got hit and I don't have anymore plans.

Code Purple #8

2009-08-17T01:16:00.004-05:00

For some reason today, I decided I wanted to learn Swedish. It's such a lyrical, beautiful language. I figured the best way to go about it was to get my hands on some Rosetta Stone. I went to the website and found out that my brilliant idea would set me back $500. I don't have $500 just laying around. Five months ago, I could have plopped that kind of money down with maybe only a second thought. But not now. Not anymore.

This year was my year to get out of the country. I've never been out of the country. I've never even been on a plane. Maybe after I learned Swedish, I could have put it to practical use. We'll never know. I wanted to go on a cruise and bask in the sun. Learn how to snorkel/SCUBA and just chill out on a warm deck with a cold drink in my hand.

I wanted to have money in the bank and just let it sit there. Getting dusty and making little interest babies. I didn't want to be rich; I just wanted to not have to worry for once in my life.

I had this little nest egg going and now it's being paid to some senile, old man who can't even remember my name even though it's clearly written on my fucking rent check every month.

My electric bill doubled this month, and although it is still only a third of what it used to be, I'm now wondering how much Ramen I have to eat to keep in the black. I thought my Ramen days were over.

I want to move so badly, but I know that I could never find a place that would let me keep Alex. This rent is actually reasonable for the size of the house. I just don't need about 800 feet and $400 of it. And I would never inflict this on a roommate.

Air conditioning that doesn't work. A fridge that freezes everything, a freezer that melts everything, and a toilet that just starts running for no reason. A backyard that floods at the mention of rain, and hoodlum neighbors. A roof that I'm pretty sure is leaking and a back fence that is rotting away as I type.

This is my cross to bear. This is my punishment for being so stupid. Moving in with her was one of the worst mistakes I've made in my life and I'm still paying for it.

Pretty, But Not Too Bright

2009-08-10T20:35:00.002-05:00

Today was one of my "Off Days." I don't have them very often, but when I do, watch out.

It was supposed to be an awesome day. It was the day that I finally got to move into my office. Exciting....eh, not so much.

I left work at my usual time, yet instead of getting to work ten minutes early, I arrived right on time. I think this is the root of my problem--that and the fact that I slept curled up like a pretzel. I need to be able to get into work and have about five minutes where I can just soak up the atmosphere and get into the work-mood. I didn't have that today. It was all-systems go the moment I stepped into the building.

Moving into the office, I realized that there is a four foot port-hole where people can come by and just stare at my antics or decided lack thereof. It was like I was on loan from the San Diego Zoo or something. Apparently I was highly entertaining today or something. If I knew everyone was going to come by and just gawk at me, I would have had some poo to fling...like a monkey.

I also have a two-foot span where the person in the office across from me can just stare constantly. I finally put some printer paper over the gap...just to see him stand up 14 times to look at me in suspicion. (I went by Wal-mart and bought a huge-ass poster to cover the gap.) Fourteen times! I counted. I've had problems with this person before. Looks like they will be on going.

I didn't get as much done as I wanted to accomplish today. Everything kind of got shuffled in the move and everything I touched was snake-bit. Horrifyingly so. I'm kind of afraid to go back and work on it all tomorrow. I pushed it all into a corner and I hope it's slithered off by the time I get back.

The girls and I went to Subway for lunch and we were walking back into the building when this crazy guy started following me around, waving hysterically. I'm trying to alternately escape him and stare him down when KB points out that this dude isn't crazy, he's just trying to point out that I dropped five dollars on the ground. Lobby full of people got a good laugh.

The next few hours passed in a blur. And when I looked up...from whatever I was doing...it was 4:47. Which would ordinarily be great, except I was supposed to be out of the office by four today. Oops. I went to talk to my supervisor to see how I should fix this. I rambled a little bit, she stared at me in exasperation, and then I blindly walked out of the building and went home.

I don't know where I picked up my bag and keys. I don't know when I left the building. And I don't know how I got home. I don't even know why I thought it was appropriate to just leave the building.

At this point in the day, I'm just glad that I'm home, safe and sound. I'm going to take a couple of Tylenol, sip on some tea, and nibble on some chocolate-chip cookies.

The Favorite...Is Not Me

2009-08-08T10:18:00.003-05:00

So Ty, my mom's ickle Baby, moved into his dorm yesterday. He's off to college and playing football. Believe me, we're all very, very proud. Apparently they had to do this mile and a half run to the field last night and he was one of the only twenty that made it and made it in under 10 minutes. Now why my mom felt the need to call me at eleven o'clock and tell me that? I don't know. But I thought I would share.

Ordinarily Ty would call and tell me something like that directly--but Ty and I are not talking right now. Well, at least we're not talking to each other.

While, I think we both share some of the blame (me for not being able to keep my mouth shut and he for dating a psycho), I place the blame squarely will the majority of it belongs. On his nut-job girlfriend.

He has been dating this...girl since March. I refer to her (solely in my head) as the rebound-skank. To give you some backstory: Ty tried to break up with her in April and she threatened to hurt herself. They got back together for a day or two, broke up again, and she began stalking him, his friends, and his ex. Ty, being the idiot man (redundant) that he is, got back with her to save himself the drama.

She's so, umm, odd. The first time I met her, she was crying in my mom's living room. Why? Because there was a wasp outside, BUT it might get inside and then it would sting her and it would hurt and the sting would cause a bump and Ty would see the bump and she would be so embarrassed that she would have to kill herself. I shit you not. All true.

I would hear weird stories like that over the months and then my mom called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that, "She's here. Ty left for work when I did and hasn't been home, but she's here...and she's sleeping in my bed!" It's like the Goldilocks story gone horribly, awkwardly wrong.

She's always at my mom's house, even when Ty's not and will not be for hours. And I get to hear all this bitching from my mom about how she's always there, eating all the food and sleeping in all these beds when we're not there. My mom is even doing all her laundry and her dishes. It's just wrong. She butts in on family outings and will not take the hint that no one, Ty included, wants her there.

And that is how I spent my family-time on my birthday.

That afternoon, my mom and I came home from swimming and she had parked half-in and half-out of our driveway. Ty had to park his new car in the street and my mom had to park at this funky angle because Ty didn't pull forward far enough. Karma says that if things are going to remain that way, somebody was going to drive by, swerve around her dumb-ass junker, hit my mom's car and push it into Ty's.

I'm sick of it. I've spent my birthday with this crying, moping, whining bitch and I'm tired and sunburned. I don't need this shit.

So I storm out of the car, with what my mom calls, a swagger. Like I'm "going to a gunfight that [I] know [I'm] going to win." And yelling and throwing of things took place on my part and shudders and tears and slamming out of the house and pulling away in a squeal of tires took place on theirs. To top it all off, the skank almost hit my mom and Alex with her car.

The skank stayed away from the house for a few days, but intruded on Ty's going away dinner with this lovely verbal attack.

Skank: "So do you have a favorite kid?"

My mom: "No."

Skank: "Well, Ty and I think it's her."

My mom: "Not this again."

Ty: "You didn't even yell at her! And you laughed at me!"

My mom: "I didn't laugh--"

Skank: "She's awful and mean and, and ugly, and I don't know why you--"

My mom: "You're going to want to shut-up right now."

Skank: *begins to whimper*

Honestly my mom doesn't have favorites. But she does have a least favorite. And right now, that is the skank.

The Ruinator

2009-08-04T23:42:00.002-05:00

"Happy Birthday!!! Hope to see you at the wedding! Miss you! Steph"

I'm sorry, but what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Just when I am about to reach a point in my life where she no longer factors into the equations of my recuperating mind, she has to pull this mind-fuck.

After five years of "friendship," she decides to finally remember my birthday with her stupid attempt to ruin my fun. Why? Why would she do that? She lived with me for three years and couldn't be bothered, but the one time that I don't want to hear or see a peep out of her, I get this stupid e-card. Why the hell did I open that email?

It pisses me off on a completely irrational level.

It was a Happy Birthday until I heard from her. I'm not going to the wedding--and if I was, it would be my main objective in life to avoid her. I don't miss her. I don't even miss the "good times" because now I see them for what they were.

So fuck her. Fuck her and her stupid singing e-card.

I got to work today and my cubicle was covered in streamers, balloons, and cards from good people. It went a ways in making me realize that I don't have to focus on that negativity. I can let it out in a safe place and not question why.

Who cares why? She's just a blimp of space in my trash can--next to all the spam.

Kanigget, Version 24

2009-08-03T00:14:00.000-05:00

Ah, to be 24! Well, to be 24 in like three hours anyway. I'm a little sad. I mean, nothing really happens when you turn 24. Sixteen, 18, 21, now those are some milestones. But 24 is just kind of there. Hanging out between 23 and 25. Although this does put me in my "mid-twenties" now. Ick, one step closer to being old.

When I think back, I didn't really wonder where I would be at this point in my life. I was just happy to wake up to a new day. But where I'm at, isn't so bad. I've got a great family, awesome friends, and a job that keeps me intrigued enough to want to go back for more. (I get an office next week! Woot!)

When I think about where I'm going, that's when I get a little scared. Part of me wants everything to stay the same. That part wants to grab hold of all that is good and all that is peaceful and just hold on for dear life. Then there's the other part that wants to rush forward and greet the new of each day. This is the same part that thinks jumping out of planes, swimming with sharks, and dancing in public are all valid ideas.

If I could have one wish, just one birthday wish come true, I know in my heart of hearts what I would wish for. I would wish for a safe harbor. With all the things that have happened this year, the one thing I would always pray for was for something, anything to lean on. Bad things happen. I couldn't wish that away if I tried, but I would wish for the comfort and security that is missing from my life.

Apparently I'm getting maudlin in my old age.

Random Acts of Dorkiness

2009-07-31T21:30:00.002-05:00

***Attention***Attention***

We (as in Jenner, KB, Yahtzee, and I) have decided to honor the premiere of New Moon (which is like four months away) by making Twilight Saga T-shirts.

Yours truly will be creating Twilight. Jenner's in charge of New Moon. Yahtzee's crafting Eclipse. KB will be sporting Breaking Dawn.

I know that I should be feeling shame pouring into me in waves...and I do, but I'm just so excited! There's going to be a BeDazzler involved! Several actually! And shimmery paint! The embarrassment and joy are at war within me. It kind of feels like I guzzled some Coke too fast and then jumped up and down--and then delighted in those actions.

The shirts are actually a response to the fact that KB will be abandoning us and moving to El Paso with her significant other in September. We're all very sad but also happy for her. Going to see movies has sort of become our thing and we had made plans to see New Moon together, but now that KB will be twelve hours away, it's kind of impossible.

Both KB and Yahtzee love Twilight. And while Jenner and I will admit those books are literary crack to us, we aren't in the shirt making category. Jenner actually threatened to strangle me when I seconded the idea for this particular arts and crafts project. Right before she gleefully jumped on board.

We also debated about making "Best Friend" necklaces. Yeah, it's on.

Somebody save us.

School House Block

2009-07-28T18:36:00.004-05:00

*After a (not quite) satisfying Mental Health Extended Lunch*

KB: "I feel like we should have had some dessert or something."

Me: "Well, we can stop off somewhere on the way back. Lot of choices."

KB: "Awesome. Hmm, what do we want?"

Jenner: "Oh...There...Maybe...Pastry...Asian?"

Me: "Except we already passed that. Moving right along."

Jenner: "Yeah...House...Dessert...Asian?"

KB: "I'm still waiting for Jenner to complete a sentence."

Jenner: "HEY...I...There...Asian?"

KB: "Very good, Jenner! We're in the Asian District."

Me: *laughing uncontrollably* "A-a-a-sian. A-a-a-shun! Robot-voice! Johnny. Number. FIVE!"

KB: *laughter is contagious*

Jenner: "Hey...it's not...hey!"

Me: *wheezing* "A-a-asian!"

KB: *almost drives out of lane because laughing so hard* "Okay, yeah. Maybe we should stop with the laughing."

Me: "A-a-a-a-a-sian!" *laughter starts again*

Jenner: "Well, I hate you both."

Me: "Hey! A complete declarative sentence!"

Jenner: "God."

Me: "I'm so very, very proud!"

Jenner: "Damn."

KB: "Aaaaaasssssssiiiiiiian."

Jenner: "It."

I don't know why some things are funny. They just are.

Asian.

Go-Go-Godzilla!

2009-07-24T21:06:00.005-05:00

So I did "True Colors" yet again today. When the scores aren't being fiddled with by the corporation that is trying to brainwash...I mean the corporation I used to work for, than I am a solid Green. I'm also a staunch Introvert. Believe it.

It was an all-day affair and I actually discovered quite a lot about myself and my coworkers and friends. While I did learn a lot in the classroom, the true revelations came in the car ride coming back from lunch with Jenner and Yahtzee.

Yahtzee was talking about how she was concerned over her husband's view of her weight. Apparently she has put on...several pounds since she got married. My whole group of friends and I are well...to put it politely, we won't be strutting waifishly down the cat-walk any time soon. And while we aren't horrible blob creatures, weight is a thing we all struggle with. And struggle, we do.

Jenner got on the subject of being called "fat" and how that is the worst insult and compliment that can be thrown at us in particular. Never mind being selfish, rude, or stupid--you are fat! And the penalty for that is DEATH! Then we started talking about how we had to be "The smart fat girl" or "The funny fat girl" or even "The sweet fat girl." Can't be just smart or funny or sweet. You got to be a fatty too...but with a brilliant personality!!!

Then I started talking about how when I was with Them. They were all skinny, and perky, and pretty. I was always so scared to say anything about my weight or looks. Like, if I said, "Gee, I wish I could lose a few pounds," I knew they would either just smirk and deny it or say, "Yeah, you need to." They were always telling me about how they thought I had a shot at being on "What Not to Wear" and other make-over shows. They would drag me off shopping and then slink around in minuscule clothing, gaping into the mirror, and bemoaning about how fat they were.

Because being 5'9'' and 125lbs is morbidly obese, didn't you know?

I could never just be me. Plump, quirky, imperfectly lovely me. I had to be, what I now consider myself as: their Could Be Worse Friend. The "friend" they kept around so they could say things like, "Yeah, I've put on five pounds, but I'll never be as fat as her." And, "If I keep her beside me, I'll never be the ugliest." I don't see myself that way...but I'm just now beginning to understand that maybe they did.

I was never a friend to them. I was kind of like a grooming tool that lost it's use after a few years. It makes me mad that I bottled all these things up inside. Deluding myself into thinking that maybe if I don't say anything about losing weight, they wouldn't notice that there was weight to lose. Or maybe if I didn't say anything about being happy about the way I dress, they wouldn't feel sorry for me.

Now how the fuck was I supposed to change and grow when I had to constantly hide in the dark?

The girls and I were in the file room the other day and I tried to squeeze in between two stacks and ended up knocking over some files then stumbling into some chairs, and I couldn't help but blurt out, "Jeez, the only thing that's missing is some denizens of Tokyo fleeing in terror." And from the other other side of the stacks I hear in three distinct voices: "Go, go. They say she's got to go. Go-go Godzilla!" It was funny and harmless. I didn't want to curl up and die of mortification.

Less than four months ago, I would have been horrified to compare myself to a gigantic monster in the presence of others. Worried about how people might be thinking, "Oh, gawd. She has no idea how right that statement truly is." But now I can do that and I can also say things about how I want to lose weight or how I want my life to change and all that's going through my friends' heads are feelings of support and empathy. There's no ridicule or judging. I don't even get all paranoid thinking about how there might be judging...going on...somewhere...in the world...about me.

It's so relaxing and fantastic.

Code Purple #7

2009-07-18T20:40:00.002-05:00

I tell myself it's the heat.

The heat makes me angry. It makes me tired. It makes me weak. It makes me want to give up.

I've spent the past week with a constant headache. Extra-strength Tylenol is my beloved companion. It's got to be because of the heat, right?

Well, it's 82 right now, so I know it's not just the heat.

If I was going through the Seven Stages of Grief, I would say that I'm stuck on Anger for the moment. There is a lot of Anger in me right now.

It's directed at a certain, flaky, selfish ex-roommate bitch.

Odd. It's so odd. I should be happy. Things are stable for the moment. I'm squeaking by with the rent and utilities. Family life is going smoothly. Two of the problems at work are being...transferred. And the girls at work are now "friends" and not just "coworkers." They bring me so much laughter and comfort. We have plans to go get pierced on Monday...don't ask. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to be the designated driver on this one. 80% sure anyway.

All this stability around me doesn't calm the inner storm though. I have all this angst inside of me. The type of angst that wants to find a certain person and inflict upon them massive amounts of hurt. I want to verbally and physically beat the shit out of her in my own brand of closure. I would settle for the verbal.

Sometimes I get these images in my head. Images were I run into her at a store or restaurant and I rip her to shreds with my words. I want to make her feel all the pain and fear and doubt that she caused me. I want her to feel, for one moment, the way I felt. The feeling of having the floor drop out from under you and knowing there will be no one there to catch you.

Jenner told me once that I should take the brick she left behind in my toaster box and throw it at her car. Yahtzee told me I should write her a really angry note...and then not send it to her. KB thinks I should let Karma have her. And my mom says I should go on with my life and forget that she was ever a part of it.

It's hard to forget a person when it's 100 degrees in a duplex that you're stuck in because of her. From all accounts, Karma has seemed to skip her over. Writing her an angry note just seems so passive and throwing a brick seems too illegal.

Part of me is still adrift and confused and I can't move on until that part finds it's way back to me. And everyday that I remain lost and incomplete, I hate her more and more.

Dearly Departed

2009-07-12T16:52:00.002-05:00

My hair and I are having issues. I knew we would have issues! I knew it! Do you know why I kept it almost ass-length for five years? It's because the shear weight of it all would keep it in line. Keep it almost straight and with a boring, yet helpful, center part.

Now my hair is all like, "Today, today I will part behind the ear. And then I will wave and curl every which way...except the way you want me too." My hair is insolent. Insolent hair involves a thirty minutes beating with a hair dryer and round brush. This still doesn't solve the part issue.

I miss my part. I liked my part. Now my hair ends up flopping over my eye. It's like my hair has a mind of its own and its mind is telling it that I should look like a demented lounge singer. I feel like a should be stretched out over a piano crooning about how I'm cold and oh-so lonely.

So now it is pulled back in a pony-tail. Just like always.

I did receive the invitation to Meg's wedding a few days ago. I still haven't sent in the RSVP yet, which is rude, but I still don't know what I want to do. If I would have received one nod from her, instead of just invitations to things I'm expected to bring gifts to or things that are like automatic have-tos, I would be there in a second. But now I fear that I will just be making things worse by going.

I think I might miss her most of all. There are a few "friends" that I don't even notice are gone, and then there is Steph who has hate-pity-anger-revenge-regret all tangled up together, and then there is Meg and her fiance, whom I really do miss. Only a few blemishes of bitterness mess up in it.

I really don't know what to do and I've only got until July 24th to figure it out.

Code Purple #6

2009-07-01T19:48:00.003-05:00

I tore up Meg's bridal shower invitation this morning. It felt...final. Good and final. I do not feel bad about tearing up the invite and I don't feel bad knowing that I'm not going to get her anything for her future married life.

While Meg never actively did anything to me or actively said anything about me (that I know of), she was never there for me either. I tried to email her once, what with her being in China and all, and I got nothing back. She made her decision and I have made mine.

It's all very black and white, but black and white is what I need right now. Gray is too forgiving and I don't have room for forgiveness at the moment. I am a while away from gray.

I really don't have the support of anyone in this decision. But it feels like what is best for me. The whole, "I'm not going to talk to you...but at the same time, I expect you to buy me a gift" thing is way too close to the "using abuse" that I'm just now fully realizing I was a victim.

I'm getting to the point where I realize that I'm worth more than I thought. I'm worth talking to. I'm worth remembering. I'm worth not being treated that way by people I thought were my friends.

I've really got to thank the gals at work for the insight...even though they think I should at least get Meg a gift card.

The Jerk From NYC

2009-06-28T21:24:00.003-05:00

Some things are just guaranteed to set me off. Like assholes from other states that don't understand that they are no longer in those other states. Usually it is people from up East. Places like Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New York. They just don't get it.

You are in Oklahoma now. And we do things a little differently here. We are a combination of the slow, relaxed South, and the friendly, in your business Mid-west. We don't rush and we'd rather have a smile on our face than a suspicious glare. For the most part, Oklahomans are nice, gentle, relaxed people.

New York asshole, this lesson applies to you. I really bet the cashier at the Homeland felt bad for making you wait in line for five minutes so you could buy one bag of taco-rice. And I bet she's really sorry that she was the only checker working on a late Sunday night and had to run off to get the guy ahead of us some cigarettes. I know she was embarrassed when you kept muttering about "retards with no high school degrees" under your breath.

But there was no reason to yell at her. There was no reason to scream that "This shit wouldn't fly in New York! Twenty stores would just be waiting to take over this hack of crap!" That wasn't nice. And it was really unkind when you told her that, "Little morons like [her] wouldn't make it a week in New York."

Did you know she laughed until she cried when I told you to go fuck off and you stormed out of the store like the petty, little bitch you are? Because, although you think us dumb okies are too stupid to comprehend when we're being insulted, we're actually quite brilliant and can really kick ass when we need to.

Plus, I almost pissed my pants laughing when you nearly hit that pole trying to speed out of the parking lot. The exit/entrance lane has the right of way dumb shit. I was kind of hoping that SUV would have taken out your powder-blue Corolla.

Don't get me wrong, I know not all out-of-staters are like this. I'm pretty sure the ones I've dealt with have been banned from their respective states because of how horrible they behaved. One of my coolest friends growing up was from Boston and I had the time of my life with a group from Baltimore one college night. And KB is from California and she is the most easy-going person I know. But, gods, do some people need to learn to respect other people's culture! And if you can't do that, then leave the state and go back to New York or wherever. We don't want you here anyway.

P.S. Don't even get me started about that time I went skiing and this family from Albany asked if Oklahoma still had "injun" raids. Ignorance is so not bliss.

Good Grief

2009-06-22T18:37:00.002-05:00

My grandmother once told me that after "The War," and she had lost most of her family, she cut off her long, beautiful hair to show her grief and to make a statement that she was able to move on. She kept her hair short forever after that. It was the only time she mentioned what had happened before she met my grandfather and came to America.

In my Mythology class, I learned that, oftentimes, grieving women would either yank out their hair or have it shorn. This also went along with decking themselves out in ashes and wailing uncontrollably. Those ancient Greeks sure knew how to show a girl a good time.

In one of my guilty pleasure books, The Lion's Lady by Julie Garwood, the heroine cuts off the hair every time her husband does something displeasing. It's her little way of "divorcing" him. It's supposedly a Dakota tradition, although I seriously doubt the authenticity of that.

It seems like every time I have a big life change, I end up following in these quirky footsteps. When I found out my dad was sick, I had my hair cut so short that you couldn't even grab on to it. When he passed away, I hacked it off again and gave myself bangs--that I still have. Going off to college, I sported a shoulder-length flippy do. When my best-friend of a decade spread false rumors of my Voodoo practicing ways, I switched to a modified-shag.

Now? After I lose a dozen of supposed friends and have to completely rearrange my life? My hip-length hair now barely reaches my shoulders...AND I FREAKING LOVE IT! I donated over a foot of hair to Locks of Love and it made me feel wonderful. The donation to a good cause and the loss of all that weighty hair and mixed-up feelings that I projected onto it.

It is so swishy and swingy and it smells like peppermint! One of the best decisions I've had in a long time. I feel a hundred pounds lighter. I didn't even second guess it. Not even when the foot-long pony-tail was tossed into my lap. Ah, I just wish my hair could look like this everyday.

The Zoo

2009-06-20T19:13:00.005-05:00

Today, I finally was able to make it to the Zoo! And I even remembered my camera this time! It was kind of sad because the big cats were stuck inside for some reason and those are my favorites, but Jenner and I still had a lot of fun.

We got to go to the aquarium. There were several interesting marine types there, like the lungfish and snakehead, but I was most excited when I got to see Nemo...a clown fish if you have no imagination. He was in his anenenenome...anenenenomee, anenm....anemone.

We wandered the Oklahoma Trails exhibit which was pretty awesome. And we got to see this cute little guy. Although I didn't know he was found in Oklahoma, he was still adorable and funny. This pictures was taken right after his buddy "nudged" him off his beam and he gave said buddy such a look of, what I deemed, betrayal. I give you the Ring-tailed Cat Full of Woe:

And apparently we have Grizzlies roaming the plains as well. He looked hot...and like he had mange.

I was really hoping to catch a shot of the infamous black-tongue, but after waiting five-minutes just to get an image that wasn't his butt, the giraffe posed beautifully.

And this handsome guy...or girl, came right up to the fence. They should totally offer zebra rides.

And these dudes (meerkats) were the jumpiest, little mo-fos around. I fully expected a Martial eagle to swoop down or jackal to pounce at any moment.

And as Jenner pointed out, we got to see Steph there too:

Yeah, it was a pretty awesome day. Except for when my camera batteries died, and the sunburn, and the dehydration, and the sore feet, and the screaming kids, and the...yeah, we'll just end it with "it was a pretty awesome day" and let it go at that.

Oh, I'm Feeling Better Now

2009-06-18T20:48:00.006-05:00

I just realized that my job's Football Pool starts in less than three months. I am freaking excited! Even though I finished in the bottom half last year and know absolutely nothing about football.

I get my one-year bonus in about a week. I kind of want to buy a Wii and Wii Fit. But then I know my Mii will be heinously fat. And that makes me sad and oddly more attracted to it. Apparently I am one of those people.

I'm going to pay bills tomorrow in the total amount of $130...with What's Her Name, $200 used to be just my half!

Jenner and I are going to the Zoo Saturday and then we are meeting up with some of the other gals and going to see a movie. I also have a date with my family...at the Cracker Barrel. Old people restaurant...but at least I don't have to pay for my dinner.

I have Monday off work. Paid off work. I think I'm going to roast out in my backyard with a swimsuit, good book, awesome music, sunscreen, and a smile. And maybe I'll get my hair trimmed up nice too. And washed, and scalp-massaged.

Tomorrow is the Juneteenth celebration...that I've been slaving over. Yeah, the chairperson didn't think my joke was funny either. But at least it is over tomorrow. I'm kind of looking forward to getting back to my regular duties at work. I can't wait!

Too Much To Lose

2009-06-17T19:21:00.004-05:00

Is there some kind of scientific theory that postulates that if one part of your life begins to go right, another part will fall to shit? I only ask because if there isn't, there totally should be.

My personal life is going smoothly. It's pretty sweet. My work life is raising hell. My coworkers are like Godzilla and my sanity is like Tokyo.

I don't want to brag or anything, but I used to be the freaking Belle of the Ball at work. Wunderkind, hellion, princess, rock-star. I was beloved by all. Yeah, I had those suckers fooled.

Now? Now I am like public enemy number one. Well, me and my work-friends. It is in-style to hate us. It is "out "with those stupid summer-weight scarves and "in" with back-stabbing and pettiness.

I'm okay with people hating me. I don't care. You show me a person that has never been hated by anyone, and I will show you a nut-job waiting to implode like a dying star. It's just not possible to go through life being admired by all. I tried it once and I failed, miserably.

I do expect to be treated with respect when I know I've earned it though. None of those whispering conversations. Stop with the glares when I walk off. And I hate, hate this "team meeting" bullshit where I'm trash-talked the entire time.

If you're going to hate me, have the balls (or ovaries) to do so out loud! Because I will hate you out loud. I will call you a gutter-bitch to your face. I will push you down the stairs, kick you in the ribs, spit in your face, and make you cry with a look--AND IT WILL ALL BE OVERT!

If I didn't love my job so much, I already would have beaten the shit out of several of my coworkers. I'm thinking a confrontation where I storm in and get myself fired is inevitable. I'm almost to the point where I think it will be worth it.

It's just fucking cowardly--their way. I don't think I've had to fight like a "girl" since I was a girl. It is so junior high. Next thing I know, they're going to be passing notes about me during study hall.

I just want the air clear and the anger resolved. Our work is too important and valuable for it to be cluttered by this strife. I mean, the sooner they realize that they're wrong and I'm better than them, the sooner we can all go back to our fabulous lives. Well, my fabulous life. Their lives are probably bitter and boring.

In Mourning...or is it Nighting?

2009-06-14T19:21:00.004-05:00

It has been a day of un-domestic bliss here...in Hell. I realized at about three in the morning last night that this place hasn't been vacuumed in over a month. Longer than that since I know Steph didn't do it when she moved out. So, we are going on two months without vacuuming...anywhere.

Gross.

I am very steel-trap when it comes to certain things. If I'm working on a project, I eat, sleep, breathe that project. Yard work was last Sunday. Vacuuming is this Sunday. I've made it through the living room, Steph's old room, and I even used the mini-vac in the kitchen. Next is my room. Considering that I have a dog that is currently "blowing" coat and my hair is down to my hips now? I don't think it's going to be pretty.

Quite frankly, I have a feeling that it's going to be down right hideous. Luckily, I have one of those squeegee things that is supposed to help pick up hair. We shall see, and possible gag.

I also just finished grilling some Cajun Turkey Burgers. It was in honor of the True Blood premiere tonight. I gave up HBO as part of my cost-cutting project and now I'm in withdrawals. For some reason, HBO, just regular HBO, can no longer be purchased alone. You have to buy all the HBO channels. I think there were 538 at last count. Not something I think I can swing right now.

I am seriously going to be missing my be-fanged Alexander Skarsgård. And the neat plot lines too. Sure.

Things are looking up though. I managed to cut the water bill down by $7.00, the electric bill by $70.00, and the cable bill by $90.00. The gas bill isn't in yet, BUT I THINK THAT IS FUCKING AMAZING!!!!! Getting that spoiled bitch out of my life may just end up saving me money as well as my life. I'm sure my chances of dying a fiery death are now down by 300%. Oh gods! Knock on wood!

Who knows? If things keep up like this, I might be able to keep a clean conscience and be able to moon over vampires as well.

Code Purple #5

2009-06-07T09:34:00.003-05:00

My backyard is like a jungle. German Shepherd shit obviously has some sort of growth serum in it that can make innocent dandelions turn into ravenous, prickly, towering, sticky tree-things. Seriously, have you ever seen Jumanji? Do you know those creepy, creeping vines that go after the main characters? It was like that, only without Robin Williams.

I was very tempted to run over them with my mower or borrow my neighbors weed-eater...but then I remembered that I had yet to christen my new gardening shears. Oh, the silly, silly ideas I have.

I went and saw Land of the Lost Friday with Jenner, her fiance, and KB. The movie was...okay, but the screen kept going in and out of focus. In the end, I ended up with a free-movie pass, a migraine, and some new-found insight.

For a while, I was worried that I was an awful person. I know I can be rude and I know that my sense of humor is off, but I also thought that I was a kick-ass friend despite, or in spite, of all that. And then Steph left and everyone from the group of friends dropped me like a hot potato. I kind of just wanted to go through my daily routine and then come home, curl up into a ball, and never set a foot out into the social scene ever again. I'm obviously bad at it, right?

But now, people have been coming out of the woodwork. The girls at work and I are laughing and eating lunch together. We go on daily walks, go see movies, and talk about what we should do over the weekend. We might even start going to yoga together a couple nights a week.

Chole is back in my life and she's brought a few friends with her. We went and saw Star Trek last Sunday and it was great. Gods bless her trekkie little soul. I didn't know what was happening, but then I kind of didn't need to.

Is it weird now that Steph and that group (including The Former Smith, Meg, Rach, and E) are out of my life, I'm lighter? It's like they were holding me down. I invest so much in my friendships: I want my friends to be happy and healthy and always amused. And I guess, with them, it took its toll. Probably because it was never reciprocated.

A couple of weeks ago, it was my one-year anniversary at my job. The girls (Jenner, Yahtzee, KB, and Sylvia) got me a card and a cake. We snuck out of work and had a picnic and ate cake and it was awesome. The Steph-group couldn't even remember my birthday. But these girls? My freaking one-year at a job? It was so amazing I wanted to cry.

There's not words for how it feels to be accepted and cherished as a friend.

Code Purple #4

2009-06-01T18:38:00.002-05:00

Things have been quiet recently. It's a blessing, but then it is a curse. I'm never quite sure what is going to pop up next.

I am keeping up the walking regimen at work. We walked inside today because of the heat. Surprisingly, there was more of a work-out while inside than out. Something about walking on an incline...and then wanting to die before my calves tried to kill me.

Speaking of work, there has been some drama there lately. Easy to handle...but still the rumblings of a nuisance. We are divided into three teams there. One team spent all day Friday bitching about my team...specifically Jenner and me. Ridiculous since Jenner and I are two of the hardest workers. Eh, I guess it is because we work as hard as we play, after all, I did spent about five minutes shooting rubber bands at her. My excuse? I was on break.

Work is also having a "lovingly-used" silent auction soon. I bring this up because: guess where all the junk that may have been accidentally left behind in an abrupt move is going. You betcha. George Foreman Grill anyone? Half a bottle of dachshund Prozac? Maybe a set of measuring cups, minus the teaspoon?

Come one, come all. Everything must go. I'm all about auctioning off other people's stuff...especially when it's for a good cause.

Congrats Grads

2009-05-21T19:57:00.004-05:00

Just trying to get to my stupid hometown so I can watch my little brother graduate...and then it all went awry. Such is my life.

Highway Patrolman: "License and proof of insurance. Do you know why I pulled you over?"

Me: "Ah...no."

Alex: *woof*

HP: "Miss, step out of the car please."

Me: "Really?"

HP: "Miss."

Me: *mild panic and also barefoot*

HP: "In the car, please."

Me: *fears that this is a fake officer and I am going to be kidnapped or arrested for some odd reason. Bad either way...but gets into car because dude is kind of cute...and that will be put on my headstone*

HP: "Well, I pulled you over for your speed--"

Me: *Trying to keep insulted look off face. 70 in a 65? Come on!*

HP: "But I'm just going to write you a warning."

Me: "Just a warning?"

HP: "Did you want an actual ticket?"

Me: "God no. It's just that you pulled me out of my car and I was kind of wondering if you were going to make me walk in a straight line and hop on one foot or something."

HP: *smiles* "Is there any reason for me to make you do that?"

Me: "No...well other than the fact that it would be good practice for you and kind of fun for me. I could say my ABCs backwards too."

HP: *snorts and continues filling out warning* "Where are you heading...so fast?"

Me: "Little brother's graduation. In E-town. At the stadium. Over forty miles away. In twenty minutes."

HP: *hands over warning and license* "You can make it...even if you go the speed limit--or better yet, under it."

Me: "Wow. Thanks." *gets out of car, but then peeks back in* "Did I really just thank you for pulling me over?"

HP: "Stranger things have happened."

Hottie Highway Patrolman is a liar. Missed the graduation, but I will take Ty out to dinner to make it up to him. Heck, who am I kidding? I didn't even want to go to my own graduation, let alone his.

Say Cheese or Eat It

2009-05-20T19:14:00.004-05:00

It's been a while since I have written about Alex. My delightfully weird, little dog. Misnomer as Alex is now well over 70 pounds.

Chris was in the City today for a job interview and I let him stay over so he didn't have to drive down in his suit. He showed up around seven this morning and decided to take Alex on a walk. Apparently the school bus was loading and all the little kids had to stop and watch as Alex and Chris walked by.

Kid #1: "Wow! It's a police dog! A police dog!"

Kid #2: "It's not a Police Dog, it's a German Shepherd Dog."

Kid #3: "He's big and scary."

Kid #4: "Nah, I think he looks like my friend."

Kid #5 "He's so pretty."

Chris's response to this was to call me at work and relay that conversation and to add:

Chris: "He knew they were talking about him. I swear it. He started walking all proudly with his tail waving in the air. And I swear, I swear to God, that your dog...smiled."

Well, of course he smiled. Smiling and playing in the dirt are two things that Alex does best.

Big Words Are Scary

2009-05-19T23:24:00.003-05:00

Jenner: "I just want to take this pin and stab him in the face with it. Multiple times."

Me: "It would probably kill him. What with him being a hemophiliac and all."

Yahtzee: "Oh my God. Euww! You mean he likes to do...that...to trees?"

Jenner: "I think you are thinking of a dendrophile. Which is completely different from him being a necrophiliac."

Me: "Wait, he likes to boink dead people? I thought he had that thing with the blood."

Jenner: "Hemophiliac! I meant hemophiliac! Oh god."

Me: "Wait, are we sure we have the right one now? That one doesn't sound right either."

Yes, we have all graduated from college and have various smart-people degrees. Why do you ask?

Casualties of War

2009-05-17T09:53:00.004-05:00

Saturday afternoon I picked up my new lawn mower from Sears. It is shiny and red and cordless-electric. It is also freakishly heavy and I think I broke my hand trying to help the guy load it into my car.

It was also freakishly expensive when I could have bought a gas-powered one for a third of the price. I, of course, had to factor in the cost of gas, oil, and spark plugs. Plus, I can never, ever start those stupid things. This guy? Plug in a key, push a button, hold down the lever, and go.

"And go" I did. I mowed things! I excitedly mowed things! It was fun to mow instead of just a chore. Sure, it was heavy, not self-propelled, and mulching was a bad idea, but I was excitedly using my new toy. Then it got wet and muddy and I still have about a 1/4 of the back yard still to go.

I was so worried at first. When Steph abandoned me, I not only lost someone I thought was a friend, I lost the lawn mower, the microwave, all the furniture, the big TV, and someone who is supposed to do half the chores and pay half the bills. Plus, the bitch stole my toaster and gods know what else. Luckily, I have a lot of the other stuff in storage (read: my mom's house), but it was just another bunch of crap that I had to add on to the pyre that is my life.

While mowing the lawn, I realized I don't have it as bad as I thought. I've got enough money in the bank, a good job (hopefully still on Monday), a loving family, the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and the newly shorn ground beneath my feet.

There are casualties, but I'm still here.

Code Purple #3

2009-05-12T18:35:00.003-05:00

I have this saying hanging up in my cubicle. It's been hanging there since I had an "incident" with a higher-up in the office back in January.

"The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget." It's by Thomas Szasz, a rather interesting psychiatrist.

I realized that this higher-up wasn't going to leave. Nothing I could do or say would change that fact. Sure, what she did to me was (not only out-of-bounds for a co-worker to do) completely wrong on a personal level, but I knew I was stuck with her.

I could go on dwelling over what she did. Just getting more and more angry and unproductive. Or I could look at it as a chance to get over what she did and, of course, get over myself. Which is what I eventually did.

I will never be able to place faith or trust in this person, but I can still work with her--and work well. I will never be able to forget what she did, but at least I can now understand it and her. The total forgiveness is still a work in progress.

Maybe some day I can look at this woman and only think about work or how she is also a fan of The Office, but right now it is about 35% of "Man, I really want to stick a 'Kick Me' sign on your back."

Hopefully in the future (distant for sure) I can think about Steph and my other "friends" and not want to get even for abandoning me. Until then, Project Destroy the Bitch's Shit is still on. Bring marshmallows.

Postmaster In General

2009-05-11T23:48:00.003-05:00

Dear Moron Who Needs to Grow Up:

When you fill out a change of address form, your "New Address" is supposed to be where you've moved to, you know, where you want you mail to now go. Your "Previous Address" is where your mail is no longer supposed to go but had formerly gone. If you get those two confused, then the whole process is fucked. I've placed your mail and your returned change of address form in the mailbox.

I would try to mail it to you...but I'd just get it back, now wouldn't I?

Sincerely,

So Much Better Off Without You

Someday she'll be completely out of my life. Until then, it's just pathetic.

Parting Was Not Sweet, Just Sorrow

2009-05-10T20:58:00.002-05:00

Oh gods, it feels good to be back online! I didn't really miss the cable; TV is sort of just a background noise for me. I missed the Internet like I imagine I would miss a limb. $125 deposit was totally worth it.

I was at a luncheon in a fancy-schmancy hotel on Wednesday. There was wireless Internet, but I had to hold my iPod up, over to the left, with only two fingers, while standing on a bench, right leg cocked at a 50 degree angle. All the while blindly pecking at the keypad just to update on Twitter. My big-boss saw me, and alarmingly, it didn't even phase him.

I was checking my email at the Library Thursday, and a "friend" had forwarded me an email titled: "New Hair, New Home, New Start." It was from Steph and it completely disgusted me. I had come to this momentous point in my life, a point where I had decided to just let go and LIVE. There would be no anger, no pain, no hate. Reading that email almost set me back. I also got an email from her asking for a time to pick up a check for utilities.

I feel safe and calm in telling you that, while I don't hate her, I have no respect for her. While I will not wish bad things upon her, I certainly don't wish her the best. While I could easily fake being friendly and happy for her, I think it is healthier for me to keep her far, far away. Although I do have an art project planned for later this week that I know she will just love.

I will entitle it: "Why You Shouldn't Leave Expensive Shit in My House."

I said I wouldn't wish bad things on her. I in no way, shape, or form said I wouldn't trash the shit out of her stuff. This ain't no free storage bin! Did I mention that she forgot to have her address switched over and I am now in possession of her Federal Tax Refund? Oops.

Code Purple #2

2009-04-29T18:32:00.002-05:00

I am in an okay place right now. It’s not really a good place, because if one more thing happens that does not go my way, I will pitch an unholy, screaming fit. But for the moment, I am outwardly calm and inwardly wary.

I received an email from Steph this morning. I sent her an email concerning rent, utilities, and the broken air conditioner on Monday morning…quick response, no? Anyway, instead of addressing any of the concerns that needed to be addressed, her whole email was based around the fact that Reggie broke up with her.

How wrong is it that my first reaction was malicious glee? It’s very wrong, right? Part of me knows that reaction is a horrible reaction to have. It’s only a small part.

My normal reaction to this information, well, the reaction I would have had a month ago, would have been to ask Steph if she wanted me to kill him for her. I would have been halfway serious, but at the same time, joking and sensitive to the situation.

That reaction didn’t even register now. It was the malicious glee, followed by the thought of “Now you know how it feels!” and then there was guilt. A smidgen of guilt because I knew that I should have some sympathy for the situation but I don’t.

After the brief spurt of guilty glee, I didn’t feel anything. It was just kind of blank and cold where there should have been concern or smugness.

I really don’t follow the astrology thing, but I read somewhere once that a Leo can be the most loyal friend you could ever find. We would walk through fire for a friend if we thought that would help in anyway. But, if that friend should betray a Leo, than they will never be forgiven and we cut that person out of our lives.

Maybe I should start reading my forecast?

Zoology

2009-04-28T18:41:00.003-05:00

Supervisor: "Okay...so what is the argument about?"

Me: *sighs and studies nails*

KB: "She won't help me with this file."

Me: "Tell her why!"

KB: "I'm not...because it is the stupidest thing ever."

Me: "Well, then be prepared to never have me help you again...not until you say it."

KB: *sighs* "Fine...you might be right."

Me: *continues to study nails*

KB: "Fine! You were right."

Me: "I always am. But what was I right about this particular time?"

KB: *grits through teeth* "The platypus...is...venomous. There are you happy?"

Me: *directs towards supervisor* "Actually, it is only the male platypus that is venomous. It has this barb on its foot..."

Supervisor: *looks toward ceiling* "I don't even want to know."

Me: *smiles in an intentionally smug way*

KB: "I hate you."

Code Purple #1

2009-04-23T20:09:00.002-05:00

I've done a lot of searching lately. Soul, roommate, other living arrangement, and just about any other type of searching I could think of.

For some reason, I ended up reading about hospital codes. I came across "Code Purple" which can mean several things. One, there is a nut-job loose in the Psych Ward and said nut-job is a threat to self and other people. And two, the hospital is super over-run and all non-emergency things need to be dropped and the hospital goes into emergency-only mode. Divert patients and focus on the serious shit. Triage, my lovelies, triage.

Triage. If fits! Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure the nut-job part will apply soon too.

I am going pioneering! I am going pioneering in a purple-covered wagon! Roughing it and toughing it and getting my priorities straight! Just like my ancestors...well, expect for the purple part. And it was more land-running and not so much pioneering.

I plan on updating once a month, once a week, once a day if need be, while I am under Code Purple. It will generally be a list of problems, my attempts to solve them, and my priorities. It will be whiny and sometimes (hopefully most of the time) self-congratulatory.

And also...I'm on twitter! I tweet now! It is strangely uplifting. All those little thoughts I have each day and can't really fit into a post will now go there. Ah, if only my work let me use their Wi-Fi.

To start, a trio of problems:

1. Steph decided that she had better things to do than live with me. I would say "good riddance," but this creates the problem of how I am going to pay for rent, utilities, food, gas, insurance, and the list goes on. I was able to comfortably begin a nice little savings account, but now, not only is my whole paycheck going to be going to just the rent and utilities, but some of my savings is being knocked out covering everything else.

2. There is no place I can go right now that would actually be cheaper and allow me to keep Alex. Plus, I refuse to be "that girl." That girl that moves at least once a year. Foolish, stubborn pride. There is also no one that can move in with me right now.

3. The air conditioner has broken again. I refuse to be butt-fucked out of another $500 and my landlord refuses to pay to fix it. This is great because the landlord was a friend of Steph's family and now he is getting kind of creepy on me and thinks my name is "Karen."

Possible solutions:

1. Karma is a bitch and I am waiting for Steph to get hers. I'm not going to do anything to her. I don't hate her, but I don't wish her well. Her life and her choices are her own. There are several things I can do to cut costs. I don't need to eat out (healthy, money saving as it effects gas-usage as well as food price) and buy named brands so much, I'm changing my car insurance (almost cutting it in half), who needs more than 4 TV channels? And oh, that electric bill...

2. I say fuck the AC! People spent thousands of years without air-conditioning and I can spend a few months. I have a plan, a plan that involves fans...and lots of ice. It kind of sucks that none of the windows/doors have screens here, but I can adapt.

3. I'm not giving up Q and/or Alex. I don't care what I have to do. And I'm not moving...yet. I have a plan...a plan that is not going to be discussed yet, but if all works out, if Code Purple helps, this plan will be wonderful. A beautiful plan that will yield positively awesome results.

I Dub This Day...

2009-04-18T13:29:00.003-05:00

Neil Marshall Day.

Why? Because I obviously and intensely hate myself. Yea!

First up: Dog Soldiers

I first saw this movie on the Sci-Fi Channel. Have you ever watched "scary" movies on the Sci-Fi Channel? Well...they aren't that scary. They're quite mind-numbingly lame actually. Usually. This one wasn't.

I feel the need to preface my Dog Soldiers ramble by saying: The whole werewolf motif scares the piss out of me. I'm half-way serious when I say that I still won't watch Michael Jackson's Thriller. This movie has werewolves and they're tricksy and smart and mean. Dude, are they mean! These aren't your "wake up naked in the middle of the forest, wondering what the fuck happened and why they're covered in blood" shaggy dogs. These wolves are "rip you apart while they're grinning and then cook you when they're back in human form" nasty.

It's got great characters. You've got these manly, manly, soldier-men who think they can take on anything...and for a while, you believe them. It's really character-driven and I think that is why I love this movie so much. Even though I've seen this movie countless times, I'm still desperately praying that my manly, manly, soldier-men can just hold out until sunrise.

And it takes place in Scotland. The Highlands. I love the Scottish Highlands. Always wanted to go. Still want to go...just not during a full moon.

Love this movie. I have to sleep with the lights on afterwards, but love it.

Next: The Descent

I still refer to this movie as the best birthday present I ever gave myself. Once again, I think this movie has got great character-driven presence. And it's dark and creepy. Not much makes me jump, but there is a part in The Descent that, even when I knew, I KNEW, it was coming, I still jumped and almost squealed.

There is just a sense of hopelessness in this movie that I can't explain. There is just this total absence of possibility. The girls, these tough, magnificent women, are trapped in this cave, with these things hunting them, and there is just no hope. You wouldn't blame them if they just gave up. But then the movie would only be, like, thirty minutes long and not scary at all.

And finally: Doomsday

I put off seeing this movie because I hadn't really heard anything spectacular about it. I hadn't heard anything bad either, but I just didn't want my fangirldom of Neil Marshall to be tarnished by something that was merely okay.

I don't know why I put it off, because I love it as much as the other two movies...just in it's own special way.

It's not scary. Not in the way of Dog Soldiers or The Descent, but it's creepy in a different way. Did I mention that I have a low-tolerance for cannibals as well as werewolves? Yeah, well, I do. And there is nothing ickier than a plague. A plague that a government, for all intents and purposes, sanctions. Ick. Plus, why does Mr. Marshall enjoy cooking Sean Pertwee? If I ever met him, that would be the one question I asked.

And Rhona Mitra is awesome in this. She's tough and stoic and smart and gorgeous and I want to be her. Or at least have her hair in this movie.

I'm well into Dog Soldiers at the moment. I can't wait to move onto the other two.

Man, do I love rainy Saturdays.

The Way We Were

2009-04-15T19:47:00.003-05:00

Mom: "You'll be fine. There's nobody in the world that is more responsible and capable than you."

Me: *grunt.*

Mom: "If legal, you could have got a job at 13 and made your way in the world. It was like I wasn't needed."

Me: *grunt?*

Mom: "It's disturbing when you ask for help...because you just don't do it. Ever. You don't need it. You struggle and you strain and just when I wonder if finally, finally, you'll need me, you come out on top. Better than I could ever dream. And it makes me proud and it makes me sad and it also makes me forget that there are some things that you'll still need me for. Even if it's just for me to listen to you panic and then tell you that you'll be okay. Because you know what? You'll be okay and you'll make it look easy. That's what you do."

And then, I might have cried. You don't know.

I'm going to be okay. I'll be angry, which is fine--because I do my best work angry, but I'll be okay.

Smile

2009-04-12T20:51:00.000-05:00

I almost got drunk tonight. I've never been drunk before in my life. I've drank, trust me, I've drank. But the whole "drink until you reach oblivion" has never happened. I've never even had a hangover. Never puked. Never drunk-dialed. I'm a good, if boring, person.

But there I was. Sitting in a pub/grill alone on Easter, drinking and planning on taking it up hardcore once I got home. I think you should read "alone" as the operative word.

My life kind of sucks right now. Not horribly or anything. I'm not dying (that I know of) and I'm not in immediate danger of living on the streets (yea!). But life as I know it has taken a sharp detour south. It's pissy and awkward and plans that I've had all my life are no longer obtainable.

They were dear, dear, plans. Plans for which I had wanted and waited. Pined, oh how I pined for those plans. And I can't have them now. I hate road blocks.

My usual response would be, that if there are road blocks, you find a way to go over, around, or through them. You don't just stop and turn around. Give up. Of course, I sulk and/or evil-plot beforehand.

The sulking is usually not a problem. Most of the time, I cower in a closet, find a quiet piece of country to zen out in, or drive around. Alone, hiding my bitter, angry inner-thoughts.

I was so afraid that nobody could handle my angry, bitter inner-thoughts. I never wanted to inflict my angst on anyone. I think deep-down I feared that no one would truly care.

I'm supposed to be funny. Funny, solid, and safe. I'm supposed to be the one that everyone else takes their problems to. If I can't find a fix for you, then I can definitely give you a good laugh to make you forget for a while. I'm not supposed to have problems of my own.

Stupid, isn't it? If people really cared for me, it shouldn't matter whether or not I make them laugh. It shouldn't matter that sometimes, I'm going to be the blue one. My friends and family will love me just the way I am.

My mom, the woman who gave birth to me and raised me, told me that my situation "depressed" her and maybe I "shouldn't call back until [I'm] over [my] funk."

Yeah. Everyone loves a clown. Unless that clown is sad and then everyone just leaves the building or throws tomatoes.

I Ask For It

2009-04-09T01:28:00.005-05:00

When I was twelve, I watched Event Horizon by myself. I snuck into the movie theater and watched the whole freaking thing. It was my first ever "scary" movie without my dad. At the time, he was very sick and I was very angry. It was my own very mild form of rebellion.

I don't remember much about it. I never wanted to recall much of it. Because what I do remember is eyes being torn out, ghostly-ghastly family members, and getting to see a blood orgy before I ever should have known what one was.

It's been almost twelve years now, and I've rarely thought of that awful mistake. Sometimes, scenes would pop into my head. Seeing Sean Pertwee in Dog Soldiers, catching glimpses of Joely Richardson in Nip/Tuck as I'm channel surfing, even something so mundane as reading about glaucoma in a medical book.

Guess what came on HBO around midnight. Guess who was stupid enough to watch it. Well, attempt to watch it anyway.

I made it to the part where Sam Neil was climbing around in the ducts or whatever the trash they were...and then I remembered what happened next. I rapidly flipped channels to something safer.

Sometimes I think I bring things on myself. You know? Things like gory, bloody nightmares of intergalactic doom.