Hi!
I made it!!
Traveling Christmas weekend, didn't loose luggage or have flight delays or broken rental cars or family blow ups or over-drunkenness or a wad of cash in my stocking or ill feelings when someone made a bowl of soup instead of eating the feast my sister and I prepared for Christimas Eve dinner... I even got confirmation that I'm not making this shit up when the step-sister's boyfriend and I dodged an 'old family friend' party and he said "I thought my family was wierd, but this whole place operates in such a fucked up way - there is NO FUCKING WAY I would date the girl I saw in there tonight, its like she puts on a show for her mom, she is such a great girl in Arizona, but here, its like the fucking Twilight Zone!"
OK, so Flo came 10 days late right in the middle of my dad's house all over my outfit. This caused me to be OK with the idea of breaking into the Capt'n Morgan bottle at about, um, 11am Saturday morning. You know, to help the ibprofin haze hit a little sooner and a little harder. Sister and I spent Saturday bumming around the old hometown shopping for people I vehimently did NOT want to spend money on but after I saw the stack under the tree with my name on it I HAD to get SOMETHING... Sister doesn't realize she and her "free trip to see the stepsisters" cost me $200. THANKS, not like I have to COVER YOUR RENT in a WEEK or anything... and I didn't want car insurance this month anyway =)
So I spent the whole weekend bleeding profusely, half tossed, and having polite (then excessively frank) conversation with people that have no idea who I really am and don't care to know.
The reason I start with this is: I came back to work to find a girl sitting at my desk. My bosses hired a replacement for me and didn't let me know, so this poor thing was sitting there answering phones with nothing else to do for an hour and a half.
ahem.
So, to have a girl sitting next to me this week and next with no bosses around, we have become fast friends and gabbed about all sorts of stuff as we waited for her login name to get processed and for people to get out of interviews so we could leave for lunch and just because when Would Be Boss called for the 5th time in 3 hours and I replied to "whats up" with "I wanna call Sexy and I don't really know why."
Long story short, I made the call. He got a message. He called back. He apologized for how it went down. We caught up on school and holidays and new jobs and all that. He said he thinks about how we would have sex sometimes. I said I do to. I said I called because I missed my friend. He will call on his break cuz he called on his way in to work. Trainee got all excited to hear the dirt when I came back to the desk she was working at and was flush in the face.
Why? Everyone says I want to get laid. Latent reason? Surely. Compounding that though, suddenly I want to get girliefied and clean my room and unpack and organize and go grocery shopping and all the stuff I used to do because I had more in my life than work and bed. I like that my heart raced today every time the phone rang, wondering if it was him.
I realize this is a condensed version of His and my relationship, with the rediculous amounts of game playing followed by hiatus followed by pleasantries... the next steps will be fantastic sex and him leaving me instants afterward only to be ultimately left on the sidelines while he goes off and has a real relationship with someone else.
And that I know this and will meet him if he asks... baffles the mind, doesn't it??
In the mean time, my sister gave me this book with an eating plan that says "pull out the ziploc baggie and eat everything in it" every 3 hours, and a walk once a day, and I can be not bulging out of my clothes by next week, and maybe be using my gift card for a new size of jeans by the end of the second week... the trouble with that is I have to go to the store and buy food and cook it and put it in the ziploc baggies AND tell WouldBeBoss that I appreciate her buying breakfast for the office but I just don't eat doughnuts or bagels anymore. Oh, and stop drinking daily =( This might be the hardest of all... of course "1 cup cooked rice" could equal the carbs of "1 12oz light beer"?????
I'm an idiot. I know. I like to have great sex. I know. I said I was done with the bullshit and I called him anyway. I know. I've been the same pound and in the same pants for at least 5 years and think THIS WEEK I'll change my life??? right, I know.
But hey, Trainee thinks Sassy fits my real personality splendidly after I lucked out and let her listen to my and Techie's conversation and told her thats what Techie and the boys call me, so I guess the day isn't a total wash of blatent retarded behavior, huh??
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
As The Spaz Turns
SO.Much.Drama.
I sincerely hope that by the time I'm pushing 50, my daily life does not include tears of rage followed by apologies, followed by hocus pocus rationalization, followed by blame placing, followed by an alcoholic stupor before my interupted by trips to the bathroom and something that requires the shower to get turned on repeatedly in the night.
Long story short, we had a blow-out, I stood my ground (literally, she told me to get out and I didn't even shift my weight), it was solidified that she would be out by the first (again, yes, we are back to Jan. 1 move date), and I started making plans to facilitate that.
So who KNOWS what kind of freak fit she threw last night when I brought over my coworker to meet Her Shortness before the weekend where Shortstack will be living at Coworker's house (she needs a nicname, I know, I can only think of ones I've used before though, so give a Sass a minute) only to get, this morning, "um, she can stay here, its really not necessary to get a dogsitter."
Excu - WHAT????
"You told me that you were going to be gone this weekend looking for places to move to, you said on the message that you AND BRUT would be gone this weekend, so I found a way to take care of My LoveBug while you were gone."
"Oh, well, I'll look for places but I can't take him with me, so I'll be home at nights, and I can look for places from home, so really, you don't need... I mean, I know we had a fight this week, but I really don't mind watching her ::big eyed blink:: plus she will miss you anyway and this way she doesn't have all her weekend disrupted."
"Listen, its not that I don't want you watching her, but you said you'd be gone. I've spent 2 days racking my brain and options to get this set up."
"oh, well, she can stay..."
I look at the 'baroo' eyes on my sweeties face and though of how well she took to Coworker and how excited they both were at the ideas of what this weekend would entail - we were talking in the driveway about poop schedules and walking habits and pill popping and table scrap policies and finally we decided it was too cold to kabitz anymore so Coworker walks to her truck as I get Shorts to stand up and walk back toward us (from her perch Right.On. the property line staring down the long sidewalk like she can see past 10 feet) and Sweetness veered right to waddle after Coworker. We all three stop, and I try to persuade SugarBoogie to follow me back to the house so I can get on some walking shoes and a sweater so we can check out the long stretch of sidewalk she'd been staring down. She looks at me, looks at Coworker, and takes a few more steps toward the truck.
Giggle ensue, Sweets finally gets it that she isn't leaving in the vehicle, nudges Coworker's knee for one more scratch behind the ear, then begrudgingly mopes back to my side of the great divide (or driveway, whatever, she though it was quite the mean trick to play).
Yeah, I'm thinking we will both get a vacation this weekend. And I really don't care what Spaz thinks about it at this point - I've made plans, Coworker and her whole family and house have made plans, I've got the money to pay in advance for CHEEEEEEP dogsitting, and I KNOW BoogieBear will have a splendid romp at the horse stables before plenty of under-the-knee-snuck table scraps and a fight over who's feet she will snuggle at bedtime.
All this after a few hours of pen tossing (I don't have a coin, shut up) to figure which sitch would be best all around. I'm going with "happy coworker I will be partners with next week, happy pup who gets to show her cuteness to a whole new set of pet lovers, smiles on my face knowing she is being loved on instead of sitting at home with Brut waiting for Spaz to talk shit about me" instead of "be a tightwad and let pup sit home alone all day like she does every day so its not that bad and try not to hurt Spaz's feelings by declining her offer".
In 24 hours I'll be flying over California, and I have NO idea what to do with myself after I land on the other side. I'm hoping someone has an idea, otherwise I'm likely to take one of the cars and cruise town for, oh, 10 hours to see if my dreams will stop involving all my college drinking spots ;)
Oh yeah, its been WEEKS since this Sassy has had her pants ripped off by an able man and with Flo literally knocking (thats what it feels like with the random spazmatic mini cramps, like there is someone on the inside banging my junk with the end of a cane) I am totally contsantly conscious of and focused around my crotch and its every momentary change - this is why I couldn't be a guy; every time my pants moved I'd think of my dick and what it was doing and SCHZAM I'd have the nicname Woody by the second day anyone knew me... I digress - I'll be bleeding through prime One Night Stand vacation days so there will be no "bend me over in the bathroom, then you can buy me a drink" this holiday.
To preceed Vince's comment - sure, I'll be done by New Years, and of COURSE I'm thinking of traveling for the holiday, but I really need to pay, um, what was it, oh, right, RENT next month as I'll be the lease owner, so we'll see if I'm doing anything besides wanking off in an empty house while waiting for the Dick Clark Ball Drop.
That sounded dirty and wrong, but you follow. ;)
In case I don't get to check in over the weekend - here's wishing you all those totally sincere happy cliche sayings that come around this time of year that I'm too busy signing generic cards to think of - to EACH and EVERY one of you!
I sincerely hope that by the time I'm pushing 50, my daily life does not include tears of rage followed by apologies, followed by hocus pocus rationalization, followed by blame placing, followed by an alcoholic stupor before my interupted by trips to the bathroom and something that requires the shower to get turned on repeatedly in the night.
Long story short, we had a blow-out, I stood my ground (literally, she told me to get out and I didn't even shift my weight), it was solidified that she would be out by the first (again, yes, we are back to Jan. 1 move date), and I started making plans to facilitate that.
So who KNOWS what kind of freak fit she threw last night when I brought over my coworker to meet Her Shortness before the weekend where Shortstack will be living at Coworker's house (she needs a nicname, I know, I can only think of ones I've used before though, so give a Sass a minute) only to get, this morning, "um, she can stay here, its really not necessary to get a dogsitter."
Excu - WHAT????
"You told me that you were going to be gone this weekend looking for places to move to, you said on the message that you AND BRUT would be gone this weekend, so I found a way to take care of My LoveBug while you were gone."
"Oh, well, I'll look for places but I can't take him with me, so I'll be home at nights, and I can look for places from home, so really, you don't need... I mean, I know we had a fight this week, but I really don't mind watching her ::big eyed blink:: plus she will miss you anyway and this way she doesn't have all her weekend disrupted."
"Listen, its not that I don't want you watching her, but you said you'd be gone. I've spent 2 days racking my brain and options to get this set up."
"oh, well, she can stay..."
I look at the 'baroo' eyes on my sweeties face and though of how well she took to Coworker and how excited they both were at the ideas of what this weekend would entail - we were talking in the driveway about poop schedules and walking habits and pill popping and table scrap policies and finally we decided it was too cold to kabitz anymore so Coworker walks to her truck as I get Shorts to stand up and walk back toward us (from her perch Right.On. the property line staring down the long sidewalk like she can see past 10 feet) and Sweetness veered right to waddle after Coworker. We all three stop, and I try to persuade SugarBoogie to follow me back to the house so I can get on some walking shoes and a sweater so we can check out the long stretch of sidewalk she'd been staring down. She looks at me, looks at Coworker, and takes a few more steps toward the truck.
Giggle ensue, Sweets finally gets it that she isn't leaving in the vehicle, nudges Coworker's knee for one more scratch behind the ear, then begrudgingly mopes back to my side of the great divide (or driveway, whatever, she though it was quite the mean trick to play).
Yeah, I'm thinking we will both get a vacation this weekend. And I really don't care what Spaz thinks about it at this point - I've made plans, Coworker and her whole family and house have made plans, I've got the money to pay in advance for CHEEEEEEP dogsitting, and I KNOW BoogieBear will have a splendid romp at the horse stables before plenty of under-the-knee-snuck table scraps and a fight over who's feet she will snuggle at bedtime.
All this after a few hours of pen tossing (I don't have a coin, shut up) to figure which sitch would be best all around. I'm going with "happy coworker I will be partners with next week, happy pup who gets to show her cuteness to a whole new set of pet lovers, smiles on my face knowing she is being loved on instead of sitting at home with Brut waiting for Spaz to talk shit about me" instead of "be a tightwad and let pup sit home alone all day like she does every day so its not that bad and try not to hurt Spaz's feelings by declining her offer".
In 24 hours I'll be flying over California, and I have NO idea what to do with myself after I land on the other side. I'm hoping someone has an idea, otherwise I'm likely to take one of the cars and cruise town for, oh, 10 hours to see if my dreams will stop involving all my college drinking spots ;)
Oh yeah, its been WEEKS since this Sassy has had her pants ripped off by an able man and with Flo literally knocking (thats what it feels like with the random spazmatic mini cramps, like there is someone on the inside banging my junk with the end of a cane) I am totally contsantly conscious of and focused around my crotch and its every momentary change - this is why I couldn't be a guy; every time my pants moved I'd think of my dick and what it was doing and SCHZAM I'd have the nicname Woody by the second day anyone knew me... I digress - I'll be bleeding through prime One Night Stand vacation days so there will be no "bend me over in the bathroom, then you can buy me a drink" this holiday.
To preceed Vince's comment - sure, I'll be done by New Years, and of COURSE I'm thinking of traveling for the holiday, but I really need to pay, um, what was it, oh, right, RENT next month as I'll be the lease owner, so we'll see if I'm doing anything besides wanking off in an empty house while waiting for the Dick Clark Ball Drop.
That sounded dirty and wrong, but you follow. ;)
In case I don't get to check in over the weekend - here's wishing you all those totally sincere happy cliche sayings that come around this time of year that I'm too busy signing generic cards to think of - to EACH and EVERY one of you!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Get On Your Knees
Pray for me ya'll, I need all the strength I can muster.
I've already told the story 4 times in the last hour, but lucky for you I emailed it once so I'm just gonna copy and paste the long version and you can see just what a mental dump looks like.
**Somehow, my getting assaulted by 120 pounds of retarded hound dog every morning wasn't enough to drive Spaz over the edge... somehow when he gets his teeth around my hand every other time I come home, and him pouncing me, and chest pressing me, it wasn't THAT big of a deal... and with my best efforts to bring to her attention that this is a DOG we are dealing with and ASKING him IF he can sit and take a chewie for going hoarse yelling at me because I brush my hair before I go to work, she still insisted that the situation was just something to deal with.
So, I got bit yesterday morning. It's never hard, but the teeth marks my flesh red for a few hours and he is TRYING to grab at me when it happens. I yelled at him, raised my hand and nearly came down with a punch in the head, and yelled some more when he started howling at me - she didn't come flying downstairs to tell me not to use a harsh tone - I assumed she was in the shower because she INSISTS you coddle this mofo.
Last night, I come home, he screams his head off, jumps at me, and refuses to let me in even the 6 feet before I could escape upstairs. She is in the kitchen, talking baby talk to him, and I have scratch marks on my chest from his antics.
THEN, Sister comes in, maybe 3 minutes after me. He is still barking at me, turns around and there she is, he walks to bark at the wall, then bark out the window, then bark in the kitchen - he isn't even looking at her or me, just talking to mid air. We are all being nice, Sister takes 3 steps in the house, and he lunges at her.
I FLIP OUT. I grab his neck, yell loudly over his pathetic attempt at a believeable squeel, try to drag him to throw him outside, Spaz is trying to interceed, we are all in the hallway (with SuperAwsomeShortyPup underfoot trying to say hi in all the maylay)...
I am done fighting with this dog, Spaz takes him to the kitchen, the noise has stopped, Sister and I start upstairs with Shorty right behind us, Spaz is saying I should have warned her that my sister (who is over about 3 days a week at this point) was coming so she could have TOLD THE DOG we would have guests, I say "it is completely unacceptable that he bit me this morning, that I was mauled coming home, and that he was FINE with her for WEEKS and is now she gets bite marks every time she comes to the place I call home."
I checked my phone - I got a text from Sister saying she got to work on time, and a voicemail from Spaz saying "thats it. I can't have Brut attacking your sister like that. I'll find a place this weekend, and you guys can take over on the first, if that still works for you. ok, bye"
Right-o.
I like control.
I'd lost control.
I was grinding teeth that she said she would leave January first and then changed her mind. I just kept thinking that 2007 would be a great year and it will start ON NEW YEARS and BAM!!!
Apparently my getting bit every other day, and my sctached up chest from where he pounces me when I come home as he howls and yells and barks and snarls at me was OK to live with, but let my sister get this vicious attack was over her edge.
So, Sister was liking the idea of keeping her job 45 minutes away and staying where she is now and housesitting around the family for the month and moving in February first... how do I politely say that our screaming match last night and storming out and coming home at 2am was enough to get Spaz to fulfill my wildest happiest most perfect fruition of this goal and that she and I are paying January rent in TWO WEEKS?? **
I am asking for a little help - I need as many people as possible to get some good thoughts on this because if this freak decides to change her mind again, I will pack her shit for her and leave it in the driveway, and I really don't think I'm exaggerating on this. I have all the boxes from when I moved in still intact on the back porch, it will be REALLY easy to chuck anything that isn't mine into a box and walk it to the carport. The couches she will try to sell me she can drag out her damn self.
The worst of it is, I would have never thought of her moving out if she hadn't mentioned it so many times!!!! I would have told my people that her dog was a mess and we'd find something else to do besides hang out at my spacious naturally lit hardwood floored pad where we can hear the ocean waves and smell the ocean breeze!! We really really would have made Denny's the new cool place to hang!!! Since two days after I moved in, she has been talking about leaving and DAMN if I'm getting sick of all that hot air being blown in my face.
Come with me on this one...get on you're knees, put your hands together, close your eyes, and get the good thoughts of a Brut-mark-free Sassy, a well fed Sassy with a fridge full of meat that isn't earmarked for the dogs, a Sassy who can get ready for work in the morning in a full sized bathroom without a dog as her blowdryer, a Sassy who can come home from work without groaning when her roomie is there!!!!
I've already told the story 4 times in the last hour, but lucky for you I emailed it once so I'm just gonna copy and paste the long version and you can see just what a mental dump looks like.
**Somehow, my getting assaulted by 120 pounds of retarded hound dog every morning wasn't enough to drive Spaz over the edge... somehow when he gets his teeth around my hand every other time I come home, and him pouncing me, and chest pressing me, it wasn't THAT big of a deal... and with my best efforts to bring to her attention that this is a DOG we are dealing with and ASKING him IF he can sit and take a chewie for going hoarse yelling at me because I brush my hair before I go to work, she still insisted that the situation was just something to deal with.
So, I got bit yesterday morning. It's never hard, but the teeth marks my flesh red for a few hours and he is TRYING to grab at me when it happens. I yelled at him, raised my hand and nearly came down with a punch in the head, and yelled some more when he started howling at me - she didn't come flying downstairs to tell me not to use a harsh tone - I assumed she was in the shower because she INSISTS you coddle this mofo.
Last night, I come home, he screams his head off, jumps at me, and refuses to let me in even the 6 feet before I could escape upstairs. She is in the kitchen, talking baby talk to him, and I have scratch marks on my chest from his antics.
THEN, Sister comes in, maybe 3 minutes after me. He is still barking at me, turns around and there she is, he walks to bark at the wall, then bark out the window, then bark in the kitchen - he isn't even looking at her or me, just talking to mid air. We are all being nice, Sister takes 3 steps in the house, and he lunges at her.
I FLIP OUT. I grab his neck, yell loudly over his pathetic attempt at a believeable squeel, try to drag him to throw him outside, Spaz is trying to interceed, we are all in the hallway (with SuperAwsomeShortyPup underfoot trying to say hi in all the maylay)...
I am done fighting with this dog, Spaz takes him to the kitchen, the noise has stopped, Sister and I start upstairs with Shorty right behind us, Spaz is saying I should have warned her that my sister (who is over about 3 days a week at this point) was coming so she could have TOLD THE DOG we would have guests, I say "it is completely unacceptable that he bit me this morning, that I was mauled coming home, and that he was FINE with her for WEEKS and is now she gets bite marks every time she comes to the place I call home."
I checked my phone - I got a text from Sister saying she got to work on time, and a voicemail from Spaz saying "thats it. I can't have Brut attacking your sister like that. I'll find a place this weekend, and you guys can take over on the first, if that still works for you. ok, bye"
Right-o.
I like control.
I'd lost control.
I was grinding teeth that she said she would leave January first and then changed her mind. I just kept thinking that 2007 would be a great year and it will start ON NEW YEARS and BAM!!!
Apparently my getting bit every other day, and my sctached up chest from where he pounces me when I come home as he howls and yells and barks and snarls at me was OK to live with, but let my sister get this vicious attack was over her edge.
So, Sister was liking the idea of keeping her job 45 minutes away and staying where she is now and housesitting around the family for the month and moving in February first... how do I politely say that our screaming match last night and storming out and coming home at 2am was enough to get Spaz to fulfill my wildest happiest most perfect fruition of this goal and that she and I are paying January rent in TWO WEEKS?? **
I am asking for a little help - I need as many people as possible to get some good thoughts on this because if this freak decides to change her mind again, I will pack her shit for her and leave it in the driveway, and I really don't think I'm exaggerating on this. I have all the boxes from when I moved in still intact on the back porch, it will be REALLY easy to chuck anything that isn't mine into a box and walk it to the carport. The couches she will try to sell me she can drag out her damn self.
The worst of it is, I would have never thought of her moving out if she hadn't mentioned it so many times!!!! I would have told my people that her dog was a mess and we'd find something else to do besides hang out at my spacious naturally lit hardwood floored pad where we can hear the ocean waves and smell the ocean breeze!! We really really would have made Denny's the new cool place to hang!!! Since two days after I moved in, she has been talking about leaving and DAMN if I'm getting sick of all that hot air being blown in my face.
Come with me on this one...get on you're knees, put your hands together, close your eyes, and get the good thoughts of a Brut-mark-free Sassy, a well fed Sassy with a fridge full of meat that isn't earmarked for the dogs, a Sassy who can get ready for work in the morning in a full sized bathroom without a dog as her blowdryer, a Sassy who can come home from work without groaning when her roomie is there!!!!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Yeah, Um, About That
I've decided to put my foot down.
If I don't have control over anything, the least I can do is CREATE situations where I have all KINDS of control.
Like in Lamer territory.
Seriously, I went to dinner with this guy twice a YEAR ago and he is CONVINCED that I'm 'the one' for him.
OK, so I was a sexy mamajama and I was all about getting laid last fall and I slept with him like 3 times.
And I'm not sure he knew I was dating Him last year (or Sexy this year).
And sure, I have lead him on by taking his calls (when I've been drinking, or when I'm hungry and half way to his place).
But I distinctly remember the conversation when he was trying to get me to Indianapolis (he lives there, he comes 'home' to visit in the slow season) and I said "I am not into you like you are into me, but if you want to fly me to a city I've never been to so you can show me around and try to woo me, I can come up with a weekend when that could work out".
No, you didn't miss the post where I traveled to middle America.
So I'm at work late last night, reading blogs and cleaning up my personal email, and I get a text from Tempura saying "hey, what are you up to tonight?"
Since it was dinner time, and I know everything at my house needs to be cooked (read:dinner is THAT much farther from being chowed), I called him and said I was hungry and asked if he was ready for dinner too.
OK, I caught INSTANTLY the desperation on him.
I played it cool.
I reminded him that he calls when he's bored, so we'd need to come up with something that WASN'T just sitting around being bored.
He said "alright, well, come on over, we can get some dinner in ya, then come on back and I can fuck the shit out of ya."
Right-o, lardass. I said "don't you remember the conversation we had about how I am NOT a walking cum receptical and how I am FUCKING SICK AND TIRED of being used that way? Besides, I'm not up for it, I've been masturbating all day so I'm cool."
Tempura: "oh, really..."
Sassy: "yes, really."
Tempura: "so I guess last time I really didn't, huh, well, ok."
Sassy: "you graded yourself a D+, I refused to comment. I am looking for dinner though, and you call me when you're bored, so if you want a distraction form the norm, I've got an hour I can spend with you."
Tempura: "an hour?? GEE, THANKS. ::under breath:: I guess I really didn't, wow..."
Sassy: "look, I've got a life here, I've got things to do, but I also need dinner, so if you're saying you don't want to buy me $8 in tacos again unless I'm gonna bend over for you, then I guess we've got an answer as to if I'm coming over or not."
Tempura: "I'm getting another call, can I call you back?"
Sassy: ::stunned silence::
Tempura: "hello? can I call you back?"
Sassy: "uh, k."
I got a text about an hour later that he went to a bbq at a friends place. I replied "I got my grub on too."
While he normally sucks at conversation, I'm thinking I've licked the Fuck-Off-I'm-Using-You envelope and am folding it over to be sealed on THAT particular straggling Lamer =)
So thats ALL my Mr. Lamers and Lamers Disguised by Other Names that I can fully expect to never hear from again (keeping their numbers in my phone only to be sure to avoid their calls in the future).
Its with this in mind that I'm dedicating myself to the idea that 2007 is going to be SUCH a good fucking year that I am now determined to cut baggage of yester-fuckup left and right...
1) Moving up at work so I can't say I've been 'only a receptionist' since college.
2) Telling any Lamers who may continue to call to Fuck Off in an outright statement, no matter how hungry or horny I am.
3) Getting the house in order so it feels like OUR place instead of HER place that I stay in.
4) Solidifying good relationships with healthy people who support me for who I am instead of who they want me to be.
5) The car is paid off, and if I work my ASS off in this new job I see no reason why I need to have ANY hanging debt (student loan is all I've got left) by this time next year. I want to be financially stable and have all my monthly commitments be things for ME - house down payment savings account, IRA, investment fund, travel savings account... the dreams grow on.
6) Planning things that I want to do, and not letting anyone fuck with the plans, because this is MY life and if I want to travel or go to dinner or see a band in a bar, I do not need a tag-along to have a good time (remember the fair?? yeah, its my new favorite memory on this point).
7) Maybe this Christmas visit will be my opportunity to look dad in the face and tell him that he needs to apologize for showing me how women are to be treated and explain that I will not allow his dogma to pollute my life anymore - and that means I can't talk to him until he grows up. Then I'll put his number in the Lamer catagory in my phone.
8) And maybe this visit I'll stop by Mom's gravesite and work on that a little more too.
Fine, you want a Top 10 list?? I know you do, hang on, lemme think.
9) I'll stop lying about how many candies I really accept from the coworkers and go to the fresh food market twice a week and commit to the idea that this is not my body's happy weight and that I can change who I've always been.
10) I'm gonna start taking what is coming to me - doctor visits comp'd by the company, as many days off as they pay for, gifts, treats, free lunches, doors held open for me - ANYTHING that means someone is doing something with my best interest in mind, I'll start to accept gracefully and document for reference so the Woe Is Me shit can take a back seat to the Whoa Look At Me bundles of joy Sassy reports.
Yes. Today is a better day. And the chocolate on chocolate cake is being served with Dryers Vanilla Bean ice cream and its about to get a whole lot better ;)
If I don't have control over anything, the least I can do is CREATE situations where I have all KINDS of control.
Like in Lamer territory.
Seriously, I went to dinner with this guy twice a YEAR ago and he is CONVINCED that I'm 'the one' for him.
OK, so I was a sexy mamajama and I was all about getting laid last fall and I slept with him like 3 times.
And I'm not sure he knew I was dating Him last year (or Sexy this year).
And sure, I have lead him on by taking his calls (when I've been drinking, or when I'm hungry and half way to his place).
But I distinctly remember the conversation when he was trying to get me to Indianapolis (he lives there, he comes 'home' to visit in the slow season) and I said "I am not into you like you are into me, but if you want to fly me to a city I've never been to so you can show me around and try to woo me, I can come up with a weekend when that could work out".
No, you didn't miss the post where I traveled to middle America.
So I'm at work late last night, reading blogs and cleaning up my personal email, and I get a text from Tempura saying "hey, what are you up to tonight?"
Since it was dinner time, and I know everything at my house needs to be cooked (read:dinner is THAT much farther from being chowed), I called him and said I was hungry and asked if he was ready for dinner too.
OK, I caught INSTANTLY the desperation on him.
I played it cool.
I reminded him that he calls when he's bored, so we'd need to come up with something that WASN'T just sitting around being bored.
He said "alright, well, come on over, we can get some dinner in ya, then come on back and I can fuck the shit out of ya."
Right-o, lardass. I said "don't you remember the conversation we had about how I am NOT a walking cum receptical and how I am FUCKING SICK AND TIRED of being used that way? Besides, I'm not up for it, I've been masturbating all day so I'm cool."
Tempura: "oh, really..."
Sassy: "yes, really."
Tempura: "so I guess last time I really didn't, huh, well, ok."
Sassy: "you graded yourself a D+, I refused to comment. I am looking for dinner though, and you call me when you're bored, so if you want a distraction form the norm, I've got an hour I can spend with you."
Tempura: "an hour?? GEE, THANKS. ::under breath:: I guess I really didn't, wow..."
Sassy: "look, I've got a life here, I've got things to do, but I also need dinner, so if you're saying you don't want to buy me $8 in tacos again unless I'm gonna bend over for you, then I guess we've got an answer as to if I'm coming over or not."
Tempura: "I'm getting another call, can I call you back?"
Sassy: ::stunned silence::
Tempura: "hello? can I call you back?"
Sassy: "uh, k."
I got a text about an hour later that he went to a bbq at a friends place. I replied "I got my grub on too."
While he normally sucks at conversation, I'm thinking I've licked the Fuck-Off-I'm-Using-You envelope and am folding it over to be sealed on THAT particular straggling Lamer =)
So thats ALL my Mr. Lamers and Lamers Disguised by Other Names that I can fully expect to never hear from again (keeping their numbers in my phone only to be sure to avoid their calls in the future).
Its with this in mind that I'm dedicating myself to the idea that 2007 is going to be SUCH a good fucking year that I am now determined to cut baggage of yester-fuckup left and right...
1) Moving up at work so I can't say I've been 'only a receptionist' since college.
2) Telling any Lamers who may continue to call to Fuck Off in an outright statement, no matter how hungry or horny I am.
3) Getting the house in order so it feels like OUR place instead of HER place that I stay in.
4) Solidifying good relationships with healthy people who support me for who I am instead of who they want me to be.
5) The car is paid off, and if I work my ASS off in this new job I see no reason why I need to have ANY hanging debt (student loan is all I've got left) by this time next year. I want to be financially stable and have all my monthly commitments be things for ME - house down payment savings account, IRA, investment fund, travel savings account... the dreams grow on.
6) Planning things that I want to do, and not letting anyone fuck with the plans, because this is MY life and if I want to travel or go to dinner or see a band in a bar, I do not need a tag-along to have a good time (remember the fair?? yeah, its my new favorite memory on this point).
7) Maybe this Christmas visit will be my opportunity to look dad in the face and tell him that he needs to apologize for showing me how women are to be treated and explain that I will not allow his dogma to pollute my life anymore - and that means I can't talk to him until he grows up. Then I'll put his number in the Lamer catagory in my phone.
8) And maybe this visit I'll stop by Mom's gravesite and work on that a little more too.
Fine, you want a Top 10 list?? I know you do, hang on, lemme think.
9) I'll stop lying about how many candies I really accept from the coworkers and go to the fresh food market twice a week and commit to the idea that this is not my body's happy weight and that I can change who I've always been.
10) I'm gonna start taking what is coming to me - doctor visits comp'd by the company, as many days off as they pay for, gifts, treats, free lunches, doors held open for me - ANYTHING that means someone is doing something with my best interest in mind, I'll start to accept gracefully and document for reference so the Woe Is Me shit can take a back seat to the Whoa Look At Me bundles of joy Sassy reports.
Yes. Today is a better day. And the chocolate on chocolate cake is being served with Dryers Vanilla Bean ice cream and its about to get a whole lot better ;)
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Control.
I have no control.
Period.
I don't even want to hear about the cosmic woes of how the world works or that its all a struggle now but it will get me to a higher place in life or that whatever doesn't kill me blah fuck'n blah bullshit.
The instant I think I know what the fuck is going on, anything outside my 3 foot personal space bubble changes at warp speed. I end up like Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect, looking around at the surroundings that LOOK familiar but I have to take a 10 second inventory of what is REALLY going on before making a move.
It used to be just one area of my life. It used to be that whenever Sister called I had to put on the UH HUH face and take it all in like I knew what she was talking about and just wait for enough details to spill and I'd see what we were working with.
Now-a-days, its every time I BLINK.
Work changes.
Co-workers change.
Schedules rearrange with no notification to the person who is supposed to WRITE the schedule.
Offices move.
Menus get rid of my favorite thing.
Stop lights adjust their timing.
My car's automatic seat is moved.
The dogs suddenly get along.
Spaz is asking about my day.
I'm buying NON-twist off BOTTLES of beer (and thrashing my hands trying to get it open with a lighter I had in my purse, but I don't smoke, and I've never gotten that to work anyway).
The bitch of it is, the more I tell people what I am expecting, the more shit hits the fan!!!!
Seriously, what the fuck is the point of saying "pick a holiday, Tday, ok, we'll do Tday and hibernate through December" if I'm going to get a call saying "I'm on the website and didn't know if I was buying one ticket or two... how many days are you taking off work for Christmas again? And we are doing Christmas dinner here, so we have to get back in time to have TWO Christmas celebrations!!"
I plan my day around a few reports getting run and a job shadow afternoon only to have my printer start spewing my reports because my boss thought she'd help me (or totally piss me off by not letting me do my job without hand holding and step'n all up in my sandbox and kicking shit around) and I have no idea what happened to the person I was going to scare away from taking over my position... I work my life in such a way that if I say I will do something I'll do it - you don't need to do it for me.
If I say I want to fuck and not plan a life together - I mean it, and I don't care how much you think I don't I'll never cave. If I tell you I'm not interested but you keep calling and I say I'm bored and desperate enough to let you buy me an $8 dinner it doesn't mean I like you more - it means I'm hungry and bored. If I tell you I am planning to kick out a roomie so you can move in I will actually start to make that happen - and my home will be uncomfortable until it all goes down. And if I am told that we are in agreement about how FUCKED UP our lives are with one particular person in them, I WILL find it demeaning and sickening and treason for you to corner me into having to NOT be called the "bitch who ruined our Christmas by selfishly NOT taking our offer to pay her spoiled way to be here with us because she would rather stay home and hide behind having a new job to plan for" - I will do what ever anyone else needs me to do in order to maintain the peace and take a Blogland bashing for it because I am a Libra and I think that sometime somewhere in any way someone will bend over to help ME get what I want.
But no - instead I am reminded of the days where Mom would pop ibuprofin so she could feel her legs during the car ride on her bad back to see grandparents I didn't meet until I was 12 years old... I think of the days she was told by the doctor that if she'd had the 4pm appointment instead of the noon that they might have to send her to the hospital to fix her and she smartly replied "well, thats why I came in at noon"... the nights I went to bed and she wasn't home from work and I woke up and she was back at the shop... I think of how she cried when she found out the medical insurance had been cancelled and know now that it was because she checked its policy only because she was coughing blood and wanted to get it checked out before it got THAT bad... and I remember the look on her face when I walked into that hospital room and she knew she wouldn't ever go home again - it was relief... and I think of how this was my role model, the person I aspire to be like, and wonder how long I can be pulled in different directions and asked to do all the compromising and get the rules changed on me as I'm charging the battle field before my body decides its been enough and starts to betray me like hers did.
Seriously fucked up around here ya'll.
I KNOW I'll be blaming the mass of this on Flo, but to get a call from Sister about the holiday flight plan while Boss is throwing me proprietary (read: SUPER IMPORTANT) stuff to file "with the other ones" and I can't put my mind on where those are because I've got 7 screens open on stuff I was trying to get done from THURSDAY'S emails and 4 piles of "to be done RIGHT NOW" papers in front of me... ooohhhhh, Sassy is grow'n some horns and I'm about to come up with some BULLSHIT of my own!!!
Hey - maybe if a bitch could get LAID it would be a tremendous relief... Tempura is NOT a worthy opponent and frankly I don't have the energy enough to go trolling for a new Stud. Think Freakazoid Auntie would pull out her catalog and buy Sassy something fun to play with for Christmas?? Or Sister could get me a gift certificate?? The additions to my Toy Chest that Sexy overdrew his account to get me are fun, but they were meant for play with 2 people and are a bit awkward when using alone. Fun, motorized, satisfying, but a bit awkward.
And really, with all the fucked up shit changing on me every gawd damned second around here, I am just about ready to call it quits when I can't even keep control over a vibrator!!!!
Maybe its time to get back to the quickies in the bathroom stall... well SHIT, that ain't gonna work because my fingers are all bandaged up from the NEED to have a brewskie NOW last night!!!
How about a beam of brilliant revelation that someday real soon I'll be able to take the dog for a walk and maybe LEAD for like 2 seconds of the hour??? Someone toss me a nugget of peace that in all this alone time at work maybe I'll not be slammed with other people doing my job or micro managing how I do it??? Perhaps a calming snuggle that holidays are BUILT around family and somehow this is for the better???????????
Or, someone ask for my address to drop ship me something to fuck me sideways so I'm so full of dopamine and endorphins that none of this makes a damn lick of difference to my soaring mood... and be sure there is a purse sized version too, I'm all about the mid day fix at this point.
Period.
I don't even want to hear about the cosmic woes of how the world works or that its all a struggle now but it will get me to a higher place in life or that whatever doesn't kill me blah fuck'n blah bullshit.
The instant I think I know what the fuck is going on, anything outside my 3 foot personal space bubble changes at warp speed. I end up like Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect, looking around at the surroundings that LOOK familiar but I have to take a 10 second inventory of what is REALLY going on before making a move.
It used to be just one area of my life. It used to be that whenever Sister called I had to put on the UH HUH face and take it all in like I knew what she was talking about and just wait for enough details to spill and I'd see what we were working with.
Now-a-days, its every time I BLINK.
Work changes.
Co-workers change.
Schedules rearrange with no notification to the person who is supposed to WRITE the schedule.
Offices move.
Menus get rid of my favorite thing.
Stop lights adjust their timing.
My car's automatic seat is moved.
The dogs suddenly get along.
Spaz is asking about my day.
I'm buying NON-twist off BOTTLES of beer (and thrashing my hands trying to get it open with a lighter I had in my purse, but I don't smoke, and I've never gotten that to work anyway).
The bitch of it is, the more I tell people what I am expecting, the more shit hits the fan!!!!
Seriously, what the fuck is the point of saying "pick a holiday, Tday, ok, we'll do Tday and hibernate through December" if I'm going to get a call saying "I'm on the website and didn't know if I was buying one ticket or two... how many days are you taking off work for Christmas again? And we are doing Christmas dinner here, so we have to get back in time to have TWO Christmas celebrations!!"
I plan my day around a few reports getting run and a job shadow afternoon only to have my printer start spewing my reports because my boss thought she'd help me (or totally piss me off by not letting me do my job without hand holding and step'n all up in my sandbox and kicking shit around) and I have no idea what happened to the person I was going to scare away from taking over my position... I work my life in such a way that if I say I will do something I'll do it - you don't need to do it for me.
If I say I want to fuck and not plan a life together - I mean it, and I don't care how much you think I don't I'll never cave. If I tell you I'm not interested but you keep calling and I say I'm bored and desperate enough to let you buy me an $8 dinner it doesn't mean I like you more - it means I'm hungry and bored. If I tell you I am planning to kick out a roomie so you can move in I will actually start to make that happen - and my home will be uncomfortable until it all goes down. And if I am told that we are in agreement about how FUCKED UP our lives are with one particular person in them, I WILL find it demeaning and sickening and treason for you to corner me into having to NOT be called the "bitch who ruined our Christmas by selfishly NOT taking our offer to pay her spoiled way to be here with us because she would rather stay home and hide behind having a new job to plan for" - I will do what ever anyone else needs me to do in order to maintain the peace and take a Blogland bashing for it because I am a Libra and I think that sometime somewhere in any way someone will bend over to help ME get what I want.
But no - instead I am reminded of the days where Mom would pop ibuprofin so she could feel her legs during the car ride on her bad back to see grandparents I didn't meet until I was 12 years old... I think of the days she was told by the doctor that if she'd had the 4pm appointment instead of the noon that they might have to send her to the hospital to fix her and she smartly replied "well, thats why I came in at noon"... the nights I went to bed and she wasn't home from work and I woke up and she was back at the shop... I think of how she cried when she found out the medical insurance had been cancelled and know now that it was because she checked its policy only because she was coughing blood and wanted to get it checked out before it got THAT bad... and I remember the look on her face when I walked into that hospital room and she knew she wouldn't ever go home again - it was relief... and I think of how this was my role model, the person I aspire to be like, and wonder how long I can be pulled in different directions and asked to do all the compromising and get the rules changed on me as I'm charging the battle field before my body decides its been enough and starts to betray me like hers did.
Seriously fucked up around here ya'll.
I KNOW I'll be blaming the mass of this on Flo, but to get a call from Sister about the holiday flight plan while Boss is throwing me proprietary (read: SUPER IMPORTANT) stuff to file "with the other ones" and I can't put my mind on where those are because I've got 7 screens open on stuff I was trying to get done from THURSDAY'S emails and 4 piles of "to be done RIGHT NOW" papers in front of me... ooohhhhh, Sassy is grow'n some horns and I'm about to come up with some BULLSHIT of my own!!!
Hey - maybe if a bitch could get LAID it would be a tremendous relief... Tempura is NOT a worthy opponent and frankly I don't have the energy enough to go trolling for a new Stud. Think Freakazoid Auntie would pull out her catalog and buy Sassy something fun to play with for Christmas?? Or Sister could get me a gift certificate?? The additions to my Toy Chest that Sexy overdrew his account to get me are fun, but they were meant for play with 2 people and are a bit awkward when using alone. Fun, motorized, satisfying, but a bit awkward.
And really, with all the fucked up shit changing on me every gawd damned second around here, I am just about ready to call it quits when I can't even keep control over a vibrator!!!!
Maybe its time to get back to the quickies in the bathroom stall... well SHIT, that ain't gonna work because my fingers are all bandaged up from the NEED to have a brewskie NOW last night!!!
How about a beam of brilliant revelation that someday real soon I'll be able to take the dog for a walk and maybe LEAD for like 2 seconds of the hour??? Someone toss me a nugget of peace that in all this alone time at work maybe I'll not be slammed with other people doing my job or micro managing how I do it??? Perhaps a calming snuggle that holidays are BUILT around family and somehow this is for the better???????????
Or, someone ask for my address to drop ship me something to fuck me sideways so I'm so full of dopamine and endorphins that none of this makes a damn lick of difference to my soaring mood... and be sure there is a purse sized version too, I'm all about the mid day fix at this point.
Monday, December 11, 2006
How Was YOUR Weekend?
Mine started early - I went to tell my boss I was leaving for lunch, asked if it would be the WORST thing if I didn't come back, and she said "if your sick, your sick, we'll cover the phones, go ahead."
Sweet.
I run some errands before I head home... I can't get through the voice mail prompts at the car loan bank so I drive up the road to the super fucked up parking lot and wait in the 13 person line and finally get asked up to the counter and I tell the guy "I have 2 things today - one I need to change my address you have on file (he says he can't do that - gives me the number to the VOICE MAIL JAIL!!!!), and two I need you to pull up my account and see exactly, to the penny, what I owe on my car loan so I can write you the PERFECT check right here and now and get my pink slip in my stocking."
He was more thrilled than I was - I was calmly writing my check, getting all the I's dotted and T's crossed and he was over there telling his manager "man, she is paying this off RIGHT NOW!! I remember when I paid my car off, it was such a relief, and here she is on her lunch break just getting it done! New year without a car payment, how good does THAT FEEL!!!"
Right, so I get him a qualude and get my stupid phone number (that I can NOT get through to find a person or extention that can help me with this fucking address change!!! Another trip to that place and a planted ass with the New Accounts Bitch who HAS access to the internal workings of accounts so my Pink Slip goes to MY house, not my EX house).
Alright, so after all that excitement of standing in line and draining my checking account only to worry about where my SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE peice of paper will go...
Traffic to get on the freeway, construction on my offramp with no notice so that was a nice 15 minutes waiting in line to get to the other parking lot - my street that they were actually working on and blocked the turn lane off the freeway to get the conjestion more organized.
Whatever, I'm not too pissed, cuz I don't have a timeline anymore, I'm sick and taking the afternoon off.
Right, so I get in the house, tell my super thrilled pupster to relax before she squeels her eyeballs out and twitches her tail off, leave a trail of discarded clothing on the steps as I change into something more tolerable, trip on the whole lot of it as I gracefully tumble back down to find some chow, then distract the pups with some edible nonsense so I could take my tennies to the beach before the chill of dusk set in.
Yep, brought my phone. Yep, got death threats for sending live action shots of what I was looking at on a Friday afternoon to a snowed in chilled sicky (Sorry Stace, it just had to be done). Told Dad of the promotion, got a "oh, are we happy about that?" before the "did your sister tell you that your 82 year old grandma that you were named after is back in the hospital this week? yeah, so if this turns south you guys might think about coming back up, but I didn't want it to be too much of a surprise, so, ok, well, I've got the prime rib cooking for the party we have in 3 hours so thanks for calling."
No comments on the fuckhead of a pops I've got. I KNOW. I. Fucking. Know.
Something about having a rocky family foundation and every guy I date having shitty dads or relationships with their dads or needing to be their dad complexes (I've cared hard for 2, thats TWO, Juniors)... well, I'm solidifying my lack of need for men in my life because somehow the backstabbing PMSing overly dramatic romantic comedy turned slaughter house thriller roller coaster that is my female relationships sounds much more healthy than this non-chalant shit storm use abuse negligent smile and tell her she's pretty to get her to talk to you again even though she is your backup chick and you only call her when your address book has already been called and she will find out through the grapevine of family deaths or relocations or from the new girlfriend picking up my phone that shit in her world just got rocked.
OK, so I've got this going through me as I'm trapsing through the sand and toward the lovely little walkable Oh My Fucking Goodness Of Visual Thrilling Stimulation that is Surfer's Point... sure, the ones who could be surfing at 4pm were older or in high school, but watching a wetsuited form manipulate that board through the crashing swell of white powerful Mother Earth was just... well, give me a second, I need just one more second...
Yeah, so I didn't kill myself tripping on the rocks as I snapped some cool ass storm coming in pics OR when I winked profusely at anyone walking toward me. GO ME. (I'd post the pics but my email hasn't registered that I've sent them from my phone yet, FUCK if I have to deal with another call to the cell phone company to have them fix my damn text!!!!)
OK, so Sister comes out for the night. Its high times as we roll into blockbuster, then across the street to sushi, then back to drink heavily (add creme de menthe to whatever creamy yumminess you are drinking this season, sets the mood instantly ;) ) and see how much of a movie we can watch while fighting a kaluha coma.
Bliss.
Had an appointment at this really fucking cool deal of a pawn shop coalition kinda place... I need BUSINESS SUITS for the new job and they will give you, GIVE YOU, 4 on your first visit, then 2 more after you start the job!!! ROCK. So Sister and I played "take these back, find me something to go with this coat, what about shoes to match, how fucking CUTE am I in this REAL VINTAGE black on black satin get up, oh and how about this divine pale blue number with the matching lace top and the scarf as an accent" at the upscale thrift store where everything was FREE, toured Santa Barbara, stopped for some yumminess at the farmer's market, came home and walked the pup before she took off for work and I commenced to finish a liquor bottle ;)
OK, whatever the fuck is going on at Sister/Freakazoid Aunt's house, I have no detailed clue. I can tell you that its enough to have my sister call after her Saturday night shift and almost beg for me to invite her back to my place, get in the car at 10pm during a torrential rain storm with flash flood warnings and no visibility for about an hour so she could get AWAY from THAT.
Yes, I handed her a shot of what I was having as she walked in the door.
Yes, I know I'm fucking awsome =)
Can't really remember what we hot chicks did with ourselves that stormy night... some movie that we weren't into, some chatting, lots of drinking and we were up in the morning listening to the drain pipes drip and comparing dream notes before rolling over and passing out again. LOVE SUNDAYS. We had shots with our coffee as we cooked all the veggies we bought at the market, chowed with the dogs truely envious of our culinary abilities with foods we've never seen before (oh, and beets will make your next 2 days to the toilet SCREAMWORTHY, but ladies you didn't start your period 2 weeks early and men you won't need a q-tip up there, its just the beets, you are now more antioxidized than ever before and no the one trip isn't enough to get the red out, it WILL be there to get you screaming and checking for Freddy Kruger marks in the nether regions in the morning too - but coated in olive oil and baked at 425 for an hour they are SO DAMN TASTY you will forgo the knot on your head from the shock/jerk of the sight of the pool of red and you WILL eat the left overs for dinner), had a fine time divying up makeup and lotions before she was back off to work 45 minutes away.
Yeah, I continued to drink, thanks for asking! Travel mug, ice, lovely heating devices, a leash around my neck and the SO UBER EXCITED Shortstack and I were meandering for over an hour about our barely puddled neighborhood before she and I needed a nap. LOVE SUNDAYS, did I say that yet? Oh, can I also mention how much more fun it is to play with toys when you have the house to yourself??? Yeah, THOSE toys. Yeah, THAT much more fun.
Nap, phone calls, laughs at the freakish kiddy Christmas stuff on TV, some crafting while watching a show I actually might choose if I had more than 1 channel, and before I knew it the 11pm news was on! Somehow that left me with a journal entry (yeah, been a while since I put the pen to paper, but sometimes its the OTHER free therapy), a dream diary entry (Matthew McConaughey, dating, cooking, kissing, its all good stuff behind these eyes of mine), and a few pages of a book read and DAMN its 1:30am!!!
Did you follow that??? 2 days of pretty heavy drinking and I'm up til 1:30am the night before the 7 :45am FUCKASS Monday Morning Meeting!!!!
Lawdy Lawdy, and what a fucked Monday we've been having - just NOTHING getting done!!!
Lets put it this way, when your coworker is at the snack shack before 9am looking for a chocolate fix and tosses you a tube of Rolos "for later, you'll need it, trust me"... not ok.
Oh, and what the FUCK is with be STARVING all.the.fucking.time??? I wanted to try some diet pills this week but the meeting put a crunch on the "take 30 minutes before eating" stipulation so I'm on plain ol' caffeine today and somehow the fruit and veggies and beef with brocolli lunch and oatmeal breakfast and trail mix snack all has me LUNGING for the fridge in search of ANYTHING to chow on... is this what dieting is really gonna take?? Will I really just have to be hungry for 4 months to get this beer gut - the one that has my shirts have a CREASE where my waistband folds my feminine chub - to melt away????
Oh, wait, maybe I can make it to surfers point every day... surely some of them are out past dark, its further than the pier, and if I'm walking instead of running I won't need to strap down the Girls to the point of unrecognizeable femininity... hhmmm... snack on nothing but farmers market yummies and go find a surfer to wink at nightly... maybe the REAL beach girl in me is emerging...
Sweet.
I run some errands before I head home... I can't get through the voice mail prompts at the car loan bank so I drive up the road to the super fucked up parking lot and wait in the 13 person line and finally get asked up to the counter and I tell the guy "I have 2 things today - one I need to change my address you have on file (he says he can't do that - gives me the number to the VOICE MAIL JAIL!!!!), and two I need you to pull up my account and see exactly, to the penny, what I owe on my car loan so I can write you the PERFECT check right here and now and get my pink slip in my stocking."
He was more thrilled than I was - I was calmly writing my check, getting all the I's dotted and T's crossed and he was over there telling his manager "man, she is paying this off RIGHT NOW!! I remember when I paid my car off, it was such a relief, and here she is on her lunch break just getting it done! New year without a car payment, how good does THAT FEEL!!!"
Right, so I get him a qualude and get my stupid phone number (that I can NOT get through to find a person or extention that can help me with this fucking address change!!! Another trip to that place and a planted ass with the New Accounts Bitch who HAS access to the internal workings of accounts so my Pink Slip goes to MY house, not my EX house).
Alright, so after all that excitement of standing in line and draining my checking account only to worry about where my SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE peice of paper will go...
Traffic to get on the freeway, construction on my offramp with no notice so that was a nice 15 minutes waiting in line to get to the other parking lot - my street that they were actually working on and blocked the turn lane off the freeway to get the conjestion more organized.
Whatever, I'm not too pissed, cuz I don't have a timeline anymore, I'm sick and taking the afternoon off.
Right, so I get in the house, tell my super thrilled pupster to relax before she squeels her eyeballs out and twitches her tail off, leave a trail of discarded clothing on the steps as I change into something more tolerable, trip on the whole lot of it as I gracefully tumble back down to find some chow, then distract the pups with some edible nonsense so I could take my tennies to the beach before the chill of dusk set in.
Yep, brought my phone. Yep, got death threats for sending live action shots of what I was looking at on a Friday afternoon to a snowed in chilled sicky (Sorry Stace, it just had to be done). Told Dad of the promotion, got a "oh, are we happy about that?" before the "did your sister tell you that your 82 year old grandma that you were named after is back in the hospital this week? yeah, so if this turns south you guys might think about coming back up, but I didn't want it to be too much of a surprise, so, ok, well, I've got the prime rib cooking for the party we have in 3 hours so thanks for calling."
No comments on the fuckhead of a pops I've got. I KNOW. I. Fucking. Know.
Something about having a rocky family foundation and every guy I date having shitty dads or relationships with their dads or needing to be their dad complexes (I've cared hard for 2, thats TWO, Juniors)... well, I'm solidifying my lack of need for men in my life because somehow the backstabbing PMSing overly dramatic romantic comedy turned slaughter house thriller roller coaster that is my female relationships sounds much more healthy than this non-chalant shit storm use abuse negligent smile and tell her she's pretty to get her to talk to you again even though she is your backup chick and you only call her when your address book has already been called and she will find out through the grapevine of family deaths or relocations or from the new girlfriend picking up my phone that shit in her world just got rocked.
OK, so I've got this going through me as I'm trapsing through the sand and toward the lovely little walkable Oh My Fucking Goodness Of Visual Thrilling Stimulation that is Surfer's Point... sure, the ones who could be surfing at 4pm were older or in high school, but watching a wetsuited form manipulate that board through the crashing swell of white powerful Mother Earth was just... well, give me a second, I need just one more second...
Yeah, so I didn't kill myself tripping on the rocks as I snapped some cool ass storm coming in pics OR when I winked profusely at anyone walking toward me. GO ME. (I'd post the pics but my email hasn't registered that I've sent them from my phone yet, FUCK if I have to deal with another call to the cell phone company to have them fix my damn text!!!!)
OK, so Sister comes out for the night. Its high times as we roll into blockbuster, then across the street to sushi, then back to drink heavily (add creme de menthe to whatever creamy yumminess you are drinking this season, sets the mood instantly ;) ) and see how much of a movie we can watch while fighting a kaluha coma.
Bliss.
Had an appointment at this really fucking cool deal of a pawn shop coalition kinda place... I need BUSINESS SUITS for the new job and they will give you, GIVE YOU, 4 on your first visit, then 2 more after you start the job!!! ROCK. So Sister and I played "take these back, find me something to go with this coat, what about shoes to match, how fucking CUTE am I in this REAL VINTAGE black on black satin get up, oh and how about this divine pale blue number with the matching lace top and the scarf as an accent" at the upscale thrift store where everything was FREE, toured Santa Barbara, stopped for some yumminess at the farmer's market, came home and walked the pup before she took off for work and I commenced to finish a liquor bottle ;)
OK, whatever the fuck is going on at Sister/Freakazoid Aunt's house, I have no detailed clue. I can tell you that its enough to have my sister call after her Saturday night shift and almost beg for me to invite her back to my place, get in the car at 10pm during a torrential rain storm with flash flood warnings and no visibility for about an hour so she could get AWAY from THAT.
Yes, I handed her a shot of what I was having as she walked in the door.
Yes, I know I'm fucking awsome =)
Can't really remember what we hot chicks did with ourselves that stormy night... some movie that we weren't into, some chatting, lots of drinking and we were up in the morning listening to the drain pipes drip and comparing dream notes before rolling over and passing out again. LOVE SUNDAYS. We had shots with our coffee as we cooked all the veggies we bought at the market, chowed with the dogs truely envious of our culinary abilities with foods we've never seen before (oh, and beets will make your next 2 days to the toilet SCREAMWORTHY, but ladies you didn't start your period 2 weeks early and men you won't need a q-tip up there, its just the beets, you are now more antioxidized than ever before and no the one trip isn't enough to get the red out, it WILL be there to get you screaming and checking for Freddy Kruger marks in the nether regions in the morning too - but coated in olive oil and baked at 425 for an hour they are SO DAMN TASTY you will forgo the knot on your head from the shock/jerk of the sight of the pool of red and you WILL eat the left overs for dinner), had a fine time divying up makeup and lotions before she was back off to work 45 minutes away.
Yeah, I continued to drink, thanks for asking! Travel mug, ice, lovely heating devices, a leash around my neck and the SO UBER EXCITED Shortstack and I were meandering for over an hour about our barely puddled neighborhood before she and I needed a nap. LOVE SUNDAYS, did I say that yet? Oh, can I also mention how much more fun it is to play with toys when you have the house to yourself??? Yeah, THOSE toys. Yeah, THAT much more fun.
Nap, phone calls, laughs at the freakish kiddy Christmas stuff on TV, some crafting while watching a show I actually might choose if I had more than 1 channel, and before I knew it the 11pm news was on! Somehow that left me with a journal entry (yeah, been a while since I put the pen to paper, but sometimes its the OTHER free therapy), a dream diary entry (Matthew McConaughey, dating, cooking, kissing, its all good stuff behind these eyes of mine), and a few pages of a book read and DAMN its 1:30am!!!
Did you follow that??? 2 days of pretty heavy drinking and I'm up til 1:30am the night before the 7 :45am FUCKASS Monday Morning Meeting!!!!
Lawdy Lawdy, and what a fucked Monday we've been having - just NOTHING getting done!!!
Lets put it this way, when your coworker is at the snack shack before 9am looking for a chocolate fix and tosses you a tube of Rolos "for later, you'll need it, trust me"... not ok.
Oh, and what the FUCK is with be STARVING all.the.fucking.time??? I wanted to try some diet pills this week but the meeting put a crunch on the "take 30 minutes before eating" stipulation so I'm on plain ol' caffeine today and somehow the fruit and veggies and beef with brocolli lunch and oatmeal breakfast and trail mix snack all has me LUNGING for the fridge in search of ANYTHING to chow on... is this what dieting is really gonna take?? Will I really just have to be hungry for 4 months to get this beer gut - the one that has my shirts have a CREASE where my waistband folds my feminine chub - to melt away????
Oh, wait, maybe I can make it to surfers point every day... surely some of them are out past dark, its further than the pier, and if I'm walking instead of running I won't need to strap down the Girls to the point of unrecognizeable femininity... hhmmm... snack on nothing but farmers market yummies and go find a surfer to wink at nightly... maybe the REAL beach girl in me is emerging...
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Building Up
Special thanks to Jamie for his comment. I appreciate you offering your story and reminding me of mine, it really doesn't seem real to read that and know it was me, even though I typed it from this very seat. It got me thinking...
You know when you watch the waves lapping at the sand, how there is the ebb and flow of the water against the earth, and at some point you realize the tide is coming in and the water is continuing the routine of back and forth but the overall gain over the earth is measureable in just a few minutes??
OK, now, it does the same thing when the tide is going out... the regular back and forth, but the noticeable retreat back into itself after its gobbled up your sand castle and footprints and left its trail of seaweed as the marker of its most outward stretch.
Here is the trick - there is a time when you can watch the sea as the tide is going out when the ebb and flow of the rhythmic roll seems to plateau. Like it is relaxed. Like it is glad that the turmoil of reaching toward the mountains is over and it can just be, just rock a little, maybe lick its wounds, and breathe a minute before it gets back to it. The waves are low and slow, doing nothing but what they do, not trying, not achieving, not racing back to the mass of water, just lapping softly. Its like watching a baby sleep to see how comfortable this part of the cycle is.
Somehow, when I witness this, I picture Mother Earth taking her moment alone to focus and ready herself for tomorrow's rolling of the tide, tomorrow's struggle to go farther than she did today, tomorrow's new challenges. I see her building her reserves of strength, getting her affirmations ready, remembering how to stand up straight and telling herself that there is no other way to be but proactive so just understand this is how it works and you will do it all again, but not til tomorrow.
I've been in the reach out and retreat cycle for many many years now, thinking the work I do on myself is for the purpose of getting people in my world... and as soon as ONE PERSON shows up I stop thinking of myself and get distracted by them. If lots of people get drawn into my world, I have even more reason to focus elsewhere. And then, I fall back onto myself, letting them all go, and wait patiently for the self nurturing moment of pause to return, and know that I must understand that struggles are part of how life goes and hope that the next time I put myself out there, that I fiercely proactively put myself into the world, I remember that I don't have to neglect myself to do it.
Well, I'm pulling back. I've left my mark, I'm satisfied with these efforts, I've embarassed myself and am ashamed that I continue to repeat these same follies on every attempt to take on the world and have a whole new handful of things I will take with me to my comfort zone to polish up for my return to the big bad world.
I start my new job January 8th, after one week of training my replacement starting January 1st.
Sister and Spaz are both of the idea that a roomie change January first is a bit soon, so that is penciled in for February.
I'm sending my check to pay off the car today. The pink slip might make it to me by Christmas.
I'm wasting some TV time zoned out with Lamer's of various degrees, finding out how to sit politely through dinner and not reach for my wallet, remembering how to get a guy begging for my number in 15 minutes, learning how to gently remove his tongue from my mouth and request that we learn each others names before he tries it again, and overall getting over my rebound guy.
I'm enjoying every second of having an old dog, letting her lead the way to new blocks in our neighborhood, dancing to the iPod tunes on the sidewalk as she meanders on people's lawns.
Once the benifits kick in, I'll make an appointment day to get me checked up on - teeth cleaned, vagina probed, moles checked, spine aligned, psyche scrambled.
In the mean time, I take a moment each morning to listen for the ocean waves. I remember that some things are just bigger than me, that its always happening no matter how I feel about it or what I do to try to gain control of it. Then I jump into the shower and prepare to use my natural ebb and flo to work my way just one more inch of difference over yesterday's mark on the world.
You know when you watch the waves lapping at the sand, how there is the ebb and flow of the water against the earth, and at some point you realize the tide is coming in and the water is continuing the routine of back and forth but the overall gain over the earth is measureable in just a few minutes??
OK, now, it does the same thing when the tide is going out... the regular back and forth, but the noticeable retreat back into itself after its gobbled up your sand castle and footprints and left its trail of seaweed as the marker of its most outward stretch.
Here is the trick - there is a time when you can watch the sea as the tide is going out when the ebb and flow of the rhythmic roll seems to plateau. Like it is relaxed. Like it is glad that the turmoil of reaching toward the mountains is over and it can just be, just rock a little, maybe lick its wounds, and breathe a minute before it gets back to it. The waves are low and slow, doing nothing but what they do, not trying, not achieving, not racing back to the mass of water, just lapping softly. Its like watching a baby sleep to see how comfortable this part of the cycle is.
Somehow, when I witness this, I picture Mother Earth taking her moment alone to focus and ready herself for tomorrow's rolling of the tide, tomorrow's struggle to go farther than she did today, tomorrow's new challenges. I see her building her reserves of strength, getting her affirmations ready, remembering how to stand up straight and telling herself that there is no other way to be but proactive so just understand this is how it works and you will do it all again, but not til tomorrow.
I'm taking notice that I operate in a similar fashion - very consistently doing the same back and forth, but with ever increasingly gains over where I haven't been, followed by the curling into myself to ready for the next round of accomplishments.
I've been in the reach out and retreat cycle for many many years now, thinking the work I do on myself is for the purpose of getting people in my world... and as soon as ONE PERSON shows up I stop thinking of myself and get distracted by them. If lots of people get drawn into my world, I have even more reason to focus elsewhere. And then, I fall back onto myself, letting them all go, and wait patiently for the self nurturing moment of pause to return, and know that I must understand that struggles are part of how life goes and hope that the next time I put myself out there, that I fiercely proactively put myself into the world, I remember that I don't have to neglect myself to do it.
Well, I'm pulling back. I've left my mark, I'm satisfied with these efforts, I've embarassed myself and am ashamed that I continue to repeat these same follies on every attempt to take on the world and have a whole new handful of things I will take with me to my comfort zone to polish up for my return to the big bad world.
I start my new job January 8th, after one week of training my replacement starting January 1st.
Sister and Spaz are both of the idea that a roomie change January first is a bit soon, so that is penciled in for February.
I'm sending my check to pay off the car today. The pink slip might make it to me by Christmas.
I'm wasting some TV time zoned out with Lamer's of various degrees, finding out how to sit politely through dinner and not reach for my wallet, remembering how to get a guy begging for my number in 15 minutes, learning how to gently remove his tongue from my mouth and request that we learn each others names before he tries it again, and overall getting over my rebound guy.
I'm enjoying every second of having an old dog, letting her lead the way to new blocks in our neighborhood, dancing to the iPod tunes on the sidewalk as she meanders on people's lawns.
Once the benifits kick in, I'll make an appointment day to get me checked up on - teeth cleaned, vagina probed, moles checked, spine aligned, psyche scrambled.
In the mean time, I take a moment each morning to listen for the ocean waves. I remember that some things are just bigger than me, that its always happening no matter how I feel about it or what I do to try to gain control of it. Then I jump into the shower and prepare to use my natural ebb and flo to work my way just one more inch of difference over yesterday's mark on the world.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Stupid Is...
I'm agast this morning.
I was at the office terrifically late last night, and back in 20 minutes early today.
I am SWAMPED with time sensitive projects that will demand my utmost attention to detail and the clock for the entirety of the day.
Somehow, I have GOT to get this thought off my mind to deal with my workload.
I have often said how alike My Gorgeous Girl and I are... big smiles, round in the belly but in a totally OK and actually cute way, friendly to everyone but especially friendly men, easily distracted by whatever is going on in the kitchen, equally ready for a run on the beach or a road trip or a nap.
Now, what am I supposed to think about Brut and Spaz when I wake up at 4am to the sounds of a choking, gagging, yacking dog in my hallway? When SugarBear starts to ralph something up, I take her outside, she vomits or coughs until she has to pee, walks over to the water dish, and we go back to bed. This one left her dog in the hallway (or couldn't move or persuade him anywhere else) for HOURS, having me and SweetiePea crawling farther and farther under the mass of pillows (yes, Shortster actually burrowed a tunnel to sleep in) so we didn't have to hear the vile sound of a digestive tract in reverse. Come 6am I am done with this bullshit of rolling over every 10 minutes to the sound of a hollow raspy hawking followed by the gurgling roll of a mouth with no cheeks spitting up whatever it can. I get out of my cocoon of blankets and get hit in the bare tocks with the cool air stream of my 2" open window, throw on a robe and slippers, and catch Spaz coming out of her room with a "good morning, isn't he so annoying? He got into a box of cookies last night and has been choking on them ever since! Do you have any bread in your room? I'm trying to get him to eat something to dislodge it..."
Thats as far as she got before I had turned on my heel, disrobed, and crawled back in bed to love all over my Boogie for being such a good fucking dog.
Realizing my timing, I knew going to sleep for one more hour would do more harm than good so I started a leisurely morning routine. Not two seconds after the shower water shuts off I have Spaz yelling through the door asking if I thought milk or pudding would be a better help to her fucking retarded dog - I said into my towel "maybe if he would drink WATER the crumbs would move off his tonsil and we could relax".
This mother fucker didn't get his walk on the beach for 2 hours today, he was too busy being made rice and eating white bread and lapping up tapioca pudding cups and being spoon fed cottage cheese... apparently white food helps the throat out of such a crisis. With all this happening when he is normally bounding into ocean waves, he spent the majority of his time NOT EATING this food she ran to the store to buy but rather HOWLING at my Little Buggie Bear for finding all these treats fair game, then running over to the open bathroom door where I was smearing my face with HideTheZit and smoothing my hair with FuckThisWind as fast as possible for I KNEW he would be surprised as fuck to see me there and get his nose on my tailbone before YELLING at me that he was happy to see I hadn't left yet.
Yeah.
So I am sitting here baffled that my Sweets can know that this dog is faking dying for attention to the point of not even caring he is chucking loogies all over the carpet and probably onto my door, that she can sit at the edge of the kitchen and patiently wait to be tossed the yumminess of the day, that she cares not that Spaz won't let me give her the medication that keeps her walking or even refill her food dish... basically I am in awe of my Baby's ability to be the rad-est (yes, I said RAD) dog and this fucking beast of a monstrosity of an overgrown freak has this full grown tax paying job having car driving citizen in good standing human being RUNNING to the store to buy $30 in food that she NEVER EATS to help her tard dog SWALLOW.
I.Just.Can't.Get.Over.It.
Also, it dawned on me that if Spaz wants to put off moving and Sister thinks thats a good idea (read: one more month to waffle before leaving me stranded in a lease), maybe BatDog and I will find a studio since they both think I can afford that much rent anyway. I mean fuck, whats another move at this point and DAMN am I FUCKING DONE with this kind of bullshit in my day!
I was at the office terrifically late last night, and back in 20 minutes early today.
I am SWAMPED with time sensitive projects that will demand my utmost attention to detail and the clock for the entirety of the day.
Somehow, I have GOT to get this thought off my mind to deal with my workload.
I have often said how alike My Gorgeous Girl and I are... big smiles, round in the belly but in a totally OK and actually cute way, friendly to everyone but especially friendly men, easily distracted by whatever is going on in the kitchen, equally ready for a run on the beach or a road trip or a nap.
Now, what am I supposed to think about Brut and Spaz when I wake up at 4am to the sounds of a choking, gagging, yacking dog in my hallway? When SugarBear starts to ralph something up, I take her outside, she vomits or coughs until she has to pee, walks over to the water dish, and we go back to bed. This one left her dog in the hallway (or couldn't move or persuade him anywhere else) for HOURS, having me and SweetiePea crawling farther and farther under the mass of pillows (yes, Shortster actually burrowed a tunnel to sleep in) so we didn't have to hear the vile sound of a digestive tract in reverse. Come 6am I am done with this bullshit of rolling over every 10 minutes to the sound of a hollow raspy hawking followed by the gurgling roll of a mouth with no cheeks spitting up whatever it can. I get out of my cocoon of blankets and get hit in the bare tocks with the cool air stream of my 2" open window, throw on a robe and slippers, and catch Spaz coming out of her room with a "good morning, isn't he so annoying? He got into a box of cookies last night and has been choking on them ever since! Do you have any bread in your room? I'm trying to get him to eat something to dislodge it..."
Thats as far as she got before I had turned on my heel, disrobed, and crawled back in bed to love all over my Boogie for being such a good fucking dog.
Realizing my timing, I knew going to sleep for one more hour would do more harm than good so I started a leisurely morning routine. Not two seconds after the shower water shuts off I have Spaz yelling through the door asking if I thought milk or pudding would be a better help to her fucking retarded dog - I said into my towel "maybe if he would drink WATER the crumbs would move off his tonsil and we could relax".
This mother fucker didn't get his walk on the beach for 2 hours today, he was too busy being made rice and eating white bread and lapping up tapioca pudding cups and being spoon fed cottage cheese... apparently white food helps the throat out of such a crisis. With all this happening when he is normally bounding into ocean waves, he spent the majority of his time NOT EATING this food she ran to the store to buy but rather HOWLING at my Little Buggie Bear for finding all these treats fair game, then running over to the open bathroom door where I was smearing my face with HideTheZit and smoothing my hair with FuckThisWind as fast as possible for I KNEW he would be surprised as fuck to see me there and get his nose on my tailbone before YELLING at me that he was happy to see I hadn't left yet.
Yeah.
So I am sitting here baffled that my Sweets can know that this dog is faking dying for attention to the point of not even caring he is chucking loogies all over the carpet and probably onto my door, that she can sit at the edge of the kitchen and patiently wait to be tossed the yumminess of the day, that she cares not that Spaz won't let me give her the medication that keeps her walking or even refill her food dish... basically I am in awe of my Baby's ability to be the rad-est (yes, I said RAD) dog and this fucking beast of a monstrosity of an overgrown freak has this full grown tax paying job having car driving citizen in good standing human being RUNNING to the store to buy $30 in food that she NEVER EATS to help her tard dog SWALLOW.
I.Just.Can't.Get.Over.It.
Also, it dawned on me that if Spaz wants to put off moving and Sister thinks thats a good idea (read: one more month to waffle before leaving me stranded in a lease), maybe BatDog and I will find a studio since they both think I can afford that much rent anyway. I mean fuck, whats another move at this point and DAMN am I FUCKING DONE with this kind of bullshit in my day!
Monday, December 04, 2006
Crock of Shit
Look at ME!!!
Two posts in one day??!?!?!?
Well, I just despised myself for the last one, so I had to update, but I couldn't edit the last one because this is a totally different train of thought.
OK, not really, but I didn't want to ruin the gloom of the last one with a suger induced twitch fit of mild normalcy. Follow all that??
So this is what happened - I vented to my friends. I went to lunch. I had chocolate cake while waiting for my tri tip topped salad. YUM and a HALF. I just love this BBQ place and they now LOVE ME cuz I'm in there like at least once a week (ouch on the wallet, but OH YEAH to the satisfaction from a lunch break). Talked MORE to my friends. Got some closure on some stuff at work - nothing I started my day thinking I would be doing, but at least these little projects wouldn't haunt 2 days. Call to Techie, he is in a Super Sugarfied Sassy mood, we yuck it up for a good 20 minutes as he checks on this ticket and that and helps me with 2 things that came up while I had him on the line. We hung up and I had... yep... a little one but it was surely a specimen... a little smile was lingering on my lips.
Well fuck me sideways, I was happier than a pack of boy scouts at a pie eating contest to find that my face hurt from turning UP instead of sliding DOWN.
The nagging depressive tugged my ear, asking if this wasn't another case of the co-dependent getting her fix of someone who sees her as a female with all her perks and I told that little whinny bitch to shut up and wait her turn for another trip on the Psychotic Freak Mobile. I told that devil horned monster that 4 days a week she had control and that was entirely too much of my time and that this whisp of a smile was going to be coaxed and coddled until it was a full blown real happiness even if it only lasts for a minute because 2 days of tears and snot and hiding and avoiding is plenty enough to warrent the enjoyment of hearing the exasserbated reaction of a Skittle falling from a friends mouth and leaving an orange streak down his baby blue shirt. I nursed that little smile, that aching unfamiliar burst of spontaneous muscle contraction to health... and so far, the little devil bitch has decided my betrayal of her evil forces is a crock of shit and she has gone into hiding.
So, I've asked him about 47 times if he'd join me, but do you think a trip to Hawaii is thanks enough to Techie for facilitating such a quick recovery?
Two posts in one day??!?!?!?
Well, I just despised myself for the last one, so I had to update, but I couldn't edit the last one because this is a totally different train of thought.
OK, not really, but I didn't want to ruin the gloom of the last one with a suger induced twitch fit of mild normalcy. Follow all that??
So this is what happened - I vented to my friends. I went to lunch. I had chocolate cake while waiting for my tri tip topped salad. YUM and a HALF. I just love this BBQ place and they now LOVE ME cuz I'm in there like at least once a week (ouch on the wallet, but OH YEAH to the satisfaction from a lunch break). Talked MORE to my friends. Got some closure on some stuff at work - nothing I started my day thinking I would be doing, but at least these little projects wouldn't haunt 2 days. Call to Techie, he is in a Super Sugarfied Sassy mood, we yuck it up for a good 20 minutes as he checks on this ticket and that and helps me with 2 things that came up while I had him on the line. We hung up and I had... yep... a little one but it was surely a specimen... a little smile was lingering on my lips.
Well fuck me sideways, I was happier than a pack of boy scouts at a pie eating contest to find that my face hurt from turning UP instead of sliding DOWN.
The nagging depressive tugged my ear, asking if this wasn't another case of the co-dependent getting her fix of someone who sees her as a female with all her perks and I told that little whinny bitch to shut up and wait her turn for another trip on the Psychotic Freak Mobile. I told that devil horned monster that 4 days a week she had control and that was entirely too much of my time and that this whisp of a smile was going to be coaxed and coddled until it was a full blown real happiness even if it only lasts for a minute because 2 days of tears and snot and hiding and avoiding is plenty enough to warrent the enjoyment of hearing the exasserbated reaction of a Skittle falling from a friends mouth and leaving an orange streak down his baby blue shirt. I nursed that little smile, that aching unfamiliar burst of spontaneous muscle contraction to health... and so far, the little devil bitch has decided my betrayal of her evil forces is a crock of shit and she has gone into hiding.
So, I've asked him about 47 times if he'd join me, but do you think a trip to Hawaii is thanks enough to Techie for facilitating such a quick recovery?
Oh No, Not THAT Again
I'm finding myself in a curious merry go round of turmoil these days.
Maybe its because I've had the same sound boards for about a year now, people in my world who can hold me accountable to who I was and how I've done this before.
Perhaps its just that the vocalization of my woes is letting me remember these verses when they repeat.
Whatever it is, I could either fill this blog with redundancies and embarass myself by reading my archives and realizing that copy/paste would suffice as an accurate portrayal of my current state of mind... or I could knash my teeth here at the indignation of REALIZING that copy/paste would work and marvel at the complexitites of the human mind that would allow me to play and replay the same exact story line year after year and never tire of the woes of me.
I've got power struggles. I don't like being managed, but can't work for myself because even RENT isn't a strong enough motivator to get me out of bed to work.
I have roomie woes. I worry about if Sister will leave me stranded in a lease, if the dog will make it long enough to warrent finding a place that will allow her to live there, if I can just stick it out with [insert degrogatory roomie name here] for a few more months just to keep something in my life stable.
I have guy trouble. The guys who like me as a person have no appeal to me, the ones who treat me like a sex toy I pine for every minute of the day - then resent them for not falling in love with me, knowing full well someone would NEVER fall for their whore.
I hide in alcohol and food and tears and lonliness.
These are the same woes. There is no more Miss Menthol, Mousy, TweedleDee and TweedleDipshit, I've lost my Blondie motivation and tanlines gotten by the pool, but with a whole new set of nicnames and details I am returning to what feels like home - a downturned mouth, a slouch, swollen eyes, full belly, longing for my bathrobe and a bed. I don't really need a reason I guess, turns out that today's list of pet peeves are not that different from last years, but somehow I am worn raw from this constant wearing of hats to hide my inner struggle. Last year I had Sass, this year I'm just cynical and sad.
The worst of it? I truely resent Sexy for giving me a smile. I was really thrilled to have him around, to distract me from real life and escape into fun and comfort and relaxation and peaceful innocent unadulterated laughter and joy. Now I hate him for giving me something to come down from.
Last week I was so sure my shitty streak had ended, that I had triumphed over the last of my troubles, that I could look around my life and see nothing but light, no more tunnels. Today I realize that I let the drama swirl around me so I have a constant reason to be down, that those bright lights were more akin to a sunset, that it really is more work for me to be upbeat and happy and when it comes down to it I really only pretend to have a lust for life.
Or I'm just in the thick of it. Either way, its all so depressing. The worst of it?? It even bores ME. The details wrile me up, the overall content frustrates me, and the best advice I've heard about any of it, the most compellingly soothing comment so far, was "it happens to everyone, we all have to muddle throught this shit, its just how life is." Somehow knowing you all suffer like me makes it better, how twisted is THAT???
Off to not notice that its the time Sexy used to call me to invite me to lunch, snack on veggies so I keep away from the bagel table, have my tea to keep my eyes open, find solace in my solitude as I examine the bowed in box of things I won't get to today, wonder if I can make it home for lunch so maybe a dog kiss can remind me that it really isn't all that bad to be me.... enjoy the sinister delight of knowing that all of you have suffering that has much more to do with real problems than dramatic prose for your internal narrator, remember I'm being a spoiled bitch who's worst ACTUAL struggle is if I'll do whatever I want EVERY day or just MOST days, and decide if Tempura's hot tub is where I'll avoid whining tonight or if it will be a walk down the beach.
Poor me.
I know.
Bite me. =)
Maybe its because I've had the same sound boards for about a year now, people in my world who can hold me accountable to who I was and how I've done this before.
Perhaps its just that the vocalization of my woes is letting me remember these verses when they repeat.
Whatever it is, I could either fill this blog with redundancies and embarass myself by reading my archives and realizing that copy/paste would suffice as an accurate portrayal of my current state of mind... or I could knash my teeth here at the indignation of REALIZING that copy/paste would work and marvel at the complexitites of the human mind that would allow me to play and replay the same exact story line year after year and never tire of the woes of me.
I've got power struggles. I don't like being managed, but can't work for myself because even RENT isn't a strong enough motivator to get me out of bed to work.
I have roomie woes. I worry about if Sister will leave me stranded in a lease, if the dog will make it long enough to warrent finding a place that will allow her to live there, if I can just stick it out with [insert degrogatory roomie name here] for a few more months just to keep something in my life stable.
I have guy trouble. The guys who like me as a person have no appeal to me, the ones who treat me like a sex toy I pine for every minute of the day - then resent them for not falling in love with me, knowing full well someone would NEVER fall for their whore.
I hide in alcohol and food and tears and lonliness.
These are the same woes. There is no more Miss Menthol, Mousy, TweedleDee and TweedleDipshit, I've lost my Blondie motivation and tanlines gotten by the pool, but with a whole new set of nicnames and details I am returning to what feels like home - a downturned mouth, a slouch, swollen eyes, full belly, longing for my bathrobe and a bed. I don't really need a reason I guess, turns out that today's list of pet peeves are not that different from last years, but somehow I am worn raw from this constant wearing of hats to hide my inner struggle. Last year I had Sass, this year I'm just cynical and sad.
The worst of it? I truely resent Sexy for giving me a smile. I was really thrilled to have him around, to distract me from real life and escape into fun and comfort and relaxation and peaceful innocent unadulterated laughter and joy. Now I hate him for giving me something to come down from.
Last week I was so sure my shitty streak had ended, that I had triumphed over the last of my troubles, that I could look around my life and see nothing but light, no more tunnels. Today I realize that I let the drama swirl around me so I have a constant reason to be down, that those bright lights were more akin to a sunset, that it really is more work for me to be upbeat and happy and when it comes down to it I really only pretend to have a lust for life.
Or I'm just in the thick of it. Either way, its all so depressing. The worst of it?? It even bores ME. The details wrile me up, the overall content frustrates me, and the best advice I've heard about any of it, the most compellingly soothing comment so far, was "it happens to everyone, we all have to muddle throught this shit, its just how life is." Somehow knowing you all suffer like me makes it better, how twisted is THAT???
Off to not notice that its the time Sexy used to call me to invite me to lunch, snack on veggies so I keep away from the bagel table, have my tea to keep my eyes open, find solace in my solitude as I examine the bowed in box of things I won't get to today, wonder if I can make it home for lunch so maybe a dog kiss can remind me that it really isn't all that bad to be me.... enjoy the sinister delight of knowing that all of you have suffering that has much more to do with real problems than dramatic prose for your internal narrator, remember I'm being a spoiled bitch who's worst ACTUAL struggle is if I'll do whatever I want EVERY day or just MOST days, and decide if Tempura's hot tub is where I'll avoid whining tonight or if it will be a walk down the beach.
Poor me.
I know.
Bite me. =)
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