did she _REALLY_ just say that?

i apologize in advance.

so. there are things that even _I_ am embarrassed to talk about. shocking, i know. but when has that ever stopped me before? so. hang on kids. this one is FUCKED UP.

i'm working on losing weight. and shockingly, i'm doing pretty damn well. totally just jinxed myself there. BUT, i've done 21 days straight of working out which is a LIFETIME record for me. it completely smashes my previous 3 day record (so wish i was kidding). BUT. i'm a little worried about losing weight. i mean, there are things a girl has to consider when taking on an endeavor like this. so here are the things i'm worried about:

#1: losing boobage. i mean...they're technically fat, right? what happens if i get all skinny and they go away? T.R.A.G.I.C. seriously. I LIKE THEM. i want them to stick around! i've heard several girls complain about losing size when they lost weight. and granted, mine have never *ahem* increased with weight gain...they've stayed the same size all these years, so i THINK i'm safe...but seriously...how tragic would that be?

#2: rape. oh yeah. i've thought about it. i mean how many times have you ever seen on the news where a fat girl was raped? sure they're slower/easier to chase down, but SO MUCH HARDER to hold down and keep still. plus, fat girls usually carry a big purse (it's hard to carry around a ham sandwich in a small clutch!) and we all know a purse it the first weapon of self defense. plus, 90% of the male population are attracted to skinnier girls...so...you know...that raises the risk. BUT, skinnier girls are usually in better shape and can either a) run away, or b)kick ass...and i'll be able to do both...so...you know, maybe i shouldn't worry about this. if it DOES happen though, should i be scared, or flattered? SO MANY THINGS TO CONSIDER.

#3: buying new clothes: IT'S DAMN EXPENSIVE TO BE HEALTHY! i mean first there's all the healthy foods that cost a crap ton of money. then you have to replace your wardrobe too?!?! i mean COME ON PEOPLE. my jeans are already getting baggy...I JUST BOUGHT THESE! and i really like them! well, did. now they make my ass look all whatever like i'm wearing a three day old diaper. SO DEPRESSING. i mean...SUCK. seriously. i can't afford to be skinny! damn gina! maybe if there was some sort of government incentive...you know...a dollar for every day i work out and a dollar for every pound i lose. that would be GREAT. totally just solved the nation's health crisis. i mean they're throwing money at everything else...throw in a few for me too!

so. yeah. i'm worried! also, what if it turns out my fat storage cells were also my sarcastic wit storage cells too? and they all dry up and go away? life. would. end. how many fat comedians were funny after they got skinny? well, i don't know any comedians really, so i can't answer that. BUT IT'S SCARY!

oh yeah...i went there...

first off, let me say that i understand FULLY that what is to follow may completely, irrevocably offend some people. hell, it may offend most people. but it was a thought, and like most of my thoughts the get brain vomited out. i will quantify this post by saying: this is tongue in cheek. this is not intended to be a serious school of thought. this is pure, complete brain vomit at it's finest (or worst). i also understand that i may be struck by lightening while typing this. if that does happen...hell, i still think it was funny/worth it. so. without further ado. join me in FAR, FAR, left field:

is god gay?

once you get past the initial shock of that statement, lets take a moment to consider some points to ponder:

#1: it says in the bible that man was created in god's image. MAN was created in god's image. he didn't start with women...they came later on. he started with man. secondly: if we're all created in his image, that means our thoughts, urges, desires, sexual preferences or natural partner selections all came from him. that means that gay is no shock to god. he put it in our minds when he created us. he created man with the natural curiosity, the natural experimental desire, the natural homosexual desires, the natural straight desires. if he created us in his image with all our desires, wouldn't it stand to reason that he had/has the same desires? that "in his image" means we are like him, desires, preferences, tendencies and all?

#2 creation: really? have you seen some of the fabulous natural arrangements and color combination on this earth? have you seen the way things effortlessly blend together? the beauty and wonder of nature? sounds like gay interior design at it's best to me.

#3: when have you ever heard about any women in heaven? all the arch angels, the horseMEN of the apocalypse, all the messengers of heaven...ALL MEN. all of em. the big fight with lucifer where he was cast out of heaven...sound a little like a particularly bad lovers spat to anyone else? a "power struggle" that started all the problems? sounds like someone got tired of being the bitch and wanted to pitch for once instead of always catching. and he hasn't been let back in because when he left he took a legion of followers with him...well..duh...who likes to lose half their eye candy supply? and we all know what drama queens gay men can...just as bad as teenage girls. and as a former teenage girl, i know how nasty the cat fights can get and how long the grudges can be held. what's a couple million years? HE TOOK THE EYE CANDY!

#4 when god sent jesus out into the desert to be tempted...WHO tempted him? A MAN. not only a man, if my hunch is correct, a former lover. talk about temptation. it was some shiksa with a rockin body and every sexual position/ability know to man sent out there to tempt him? it was A GUY. i mean...REALLY? how much clearer can it get?

#5 the virgin mary: really? he couldn't even do the deed one time? he had to "create a miracle" to get out of it?

ok...i haven't been struck by lightening yet, so i'll stop before i push the thread too far...just...you know...weigh the evidence for yourself...get back to me on it...

the shallow end of the gene pool...

so. we all have things passed down to us from our families. traits, habits, quirks, traditions.  i've come to realize over the last few days just how many things i've acquired from my blessed gene pool.

the good:

#1: hair. holy hair. i will NEVER go bald. ever. not even kidding. had my hair did yesterday and it wasn't my normal stylist (i really have to stop talking her up! her schedule is BOOKED!). she was booked through april, so i asked her darling hubby if he had time to do it for me (they own the salon together). so he colored it. and cut it. and styled it. and thinned it. and thinned it. and looked at it one more time. and thinned it again. CRAZY amount of hair. it's not a bad thing, but it's not really the best thing either. sure i'll never go bald, but it's taken YEARS to find a good style and a good stylist that doesn't make it look great right after they cut it and HORRID the other 99% of time time.

#2 quirky names: i get this one SPECIFICALLY from my dad. i caught myself the other day and CRACKED UP. you know...names that parents call their kids that aren't really their names. growing up my brother were always called fuzz nuts. LOVE IT. seriously. can't even tell you how much i love this. i call my kids hosers or goobers. but most recently i caught my self  being 100% my dad: he would always say "come on now son, ..." and whatever the offense was would be listed. started doing it a while ago and really heard myself the last few days using it quite a bit. i'm turning into my father...

the bad:

#1 snoring. yes. it turns out women do snore just as well as men. i actually already knew this, but didn't know it was my very own genetic gift. my dad snores. no. correction. my dad sounds like a 747 with a gull caught in each engine coming down for a crash landing when he sleeps. we're talking LOUD here. we're talking old cartoons where the house was sucked in and blown out while the person slept snoring capabilities. my mum...oh lordy...my mum can be just as bad. AND. it turns out. SO. CAN. I. it seems i was gifted a particular cross breed of snoring: my mum only snores when she's dead tired and my dad can shake the bricks out of a bomb shelter. I. GOT. BOTH. i only snore when i'm dead tired, but apparently i don't half ass it. and yes, i'm just finding this out. well, i kinda knew...you can't help but know when you've *cough* umm...woken yourself up on occasion... but 99% of the time there's no one else around to put up with it. im sure i snored at some point during the whole married thing but it was never brought up. the other night however it was pointed out to me. and it turns out, not only do i snore like a truck downshifting on the highway with a medium sized neighborhood pet stuck in the axle, i'm also impossible to wake up or roll over to stop said snoring. i so wish i knew how to harness this...it would be a GREAT super power. i also may *ahem* happen to fall asleep at inappropriate times when i'm that tired...only a little (a LOT) embarrassing...

there you go. more things you never needed to know about me. i need a nap.

you're just not that into him...

so. i have recently decided to venture into the world of dating again. as in honestly putting forth effort and actively trying to find someone to date *ewwww* and perhaps *gag* start a relationship *whole body shiver*

you can tell how well it’s going.

i’ve learned a few things over the years from dinner dates, friends, encounters, twisted and bazaar dreams that ended up not being dreams but completely fucked up reality. i have very little actual “dating” experience. very few people make it part the first date, even less past the second, and only two in history have ever lasted more than a month. so. while it may not be much, i’m passing my hard earned knowledge on to you dear readers. i WISH i could say i was making these up. but i’m not. sadly. horrifically. i’m. not. and i will throw a disclaimer in here: i know that everyone is meant for someone. and i hope these members of the male species found their match eventually. i’m not saying these people were horrible. just horrible for me. and by horrible i mean FUCKED UP. and if I’M saying that…

if you have to pick him up for the date for any reason. BAIL.

if you have to drop him off a few blocks from home so his wife won’t see you. BAIL.

if he has to remove anything before kissing you (think dental bridge work). BAIL.

if he compliments your shoulder blades. BAIL.

if he asks you to do a threesome…but just watch. BAIL.

if he asks you to video tape him with a pregnant lover (who is not you, hell, probably even if it is you). BAIL.

if he has to stop and pay rent. to his mother. BAIL.

if he can’t remember his own name (or the name he gave you). BAIL.

if he’s drunk before he gets there, continues to drink, then wants to go out for a night cap. BAIL.

if world of warcraft comes up at any point during any conversation. BAIL.

if the only picture he can provide is his online avatar. BAIL.

if the only pictures he has are of his car (or boat. or dog. or gun. or atv). BAIL.

if the phrase “so i was talking to my dealer today” comes up. BAIL.

if at any point he cracks a joke using a “game voice”. BAIL.

if he doesn’t look at you once during the evening but can’t keep his eyes off the waitress’ ass. BAIL.

if you have to explain everything you just said using smaller words. BAIL.

if he doesn’t laugh at ANY of your jokes. BAIL.

if he uses the phrase “you know what i mean?” with the eyebrow wiggle. AT ALL. BAIL.

if he makes more than 2 substitutions/changes while ordering. BAIL.

if he suggests skipping dinner and getting “right to the good stuff” on a first date. BAIL.

and, one last one:

if you ever. ever. see him let his pet lick his tongue. GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.

one small step

i took one small step today. no literally...small steps. i'm in 4" heels here people. they're ALL small steps!

so. i took one LARGE step today. the safety event today at work was about domestic violence and how it affects the work place.

and i went.

i wasn't sure i wanted to go. it's like (i would think) willingly going to watch an IED be detonated after having one blow up your bradley. sure, part of it might be healing in a way, but there's huge potential that it will just freak you the fuck out.

if you haven't seen my tattoo before, there SHOULD be a picture of it. notice the purple flower? that one is for _my_ battle with domestic violence. if you didn't know, all the colors are for different things that have impacted my family/me. they're things we've had to grow through...thus the growing up the calf...the gladiolas are strength of character...how much can you pack into one tattoo? you'd be surprised.

but today i went to the domestic violence presentation. turned out to be completely lame. a 20 minute video about how it affects the workplace and things we can do. and by completely lame i mean really good information, but it wasn't a personal speaker or a live re-enactment or something that would have really had explosive potential. so lame is good in this case.

but you know...i took that risk. i went, not knowing what it would be. i faced it. and came out the other side. so there is that.

seven years people. that's how long i've been away. and although i'm 98% healed it's surprising what the at final 2% can hold and when it can pop up again.

but the good news is i'm 98% better. and stronger. and braver. and less willing to take shit off someone. and more willing to stand up for myself. and 100% sure that i don't have to take it, ever again. and 100% sure that i WON'T take it ever again.

slightly ironic point: i'm wearing 4" heels today. and i went to a domestic violence presentation. one of the first things i had to do when i was married was get rid of all my heels because he didn't like me being taller than him. FUCK THAT. today...well, today i can tell you EXACTLY what i'd do with this 4" heel if anyone complained about it....and it wouldn't be throwing it away...

_i_ have had enough

so. there's this thing about parenting that no one ever tells you. teenagers really do know more than us. and it's for one simple reason: for their whole childhood we, the parents, have watched all their damn tv shows with them. while the kids were developing, we the parents were slowly having our brains sucked out our ears.

don't believe me? take the SAT. now go watch 10 years of spongebob. now take the SAT again. i'm guessing you scored about the same as patrick. if you don't get that joke, i know you cheated and didn't really watch the required spongebob.

now. i'm a tolerant person. ok. that's a lie. i'm not tolerant at all. and i'm taking a stand! i'm sick of all these pain in the ass, iq sucking shows! whatever happened to carmen sandiego where you had to pay attention and know a bit of basic geography? what happened to math net? or reading between the lions? help me out here people! if i have to see these cheeky kids get into any more shenanigans...so help me!

the only way it could get better is if the talking studio heads help me out and throw me a parental bone every now and again. i've come up with some show suggestions that would make this a little more tolerable for me. and because i'm lazy, i totally stuck with the icarly theme. so here are shows i would like to see, shows that would help preserve my sanity another week:

i smoked week: we already know sam eats everything in sight. now explain why.

i popped my cherry: forget this stupid kissing crap. we know what teens are really doing.

i got chlamydia: a fun filled episode where we find out all three kids have the same std. who tagged an outsider?

i went to prom: this is the start of a three part episode.
episode one: i went to prom: complete with hidden flask in the garter and the after party at someone's lake house.
episode two: i got knocked up. pretty self explanatory.
episode three: i had an abortion. cause lets face it. no one wants to see a knocked up kid on a web show every week.

i stole your identity: we all know freddy is a secret hacker jacking people's online id and buying shit on porn sites with their credit cards.

i do time: you're telling me with all the hi jinx these kids have pulled they don't deserve a little juvy time?

i have sclerosis: spencer finally admits his "art" is horrible and starts hitting the bottle the way we all thought he was in the beginning.

i drop out and work at mcdonalds: we all know that's where sam's heading

HELP ME OUT NICKELODEON!

birth control

so. after watching the office last week and with my small spawn having a birthday the other day, i got to thinking about different funny/horrifying birth stories. if you have kids, i'm sure some of your own glorious memories will be stirred. if you don't have kids but want them some day, you may want to wait a few years before reading this post. if you don't have kids and don't want them any time soon, this should serve as pretty much the best birth control available. you're welcome. and because over-sharing is what i do...these are for you:

spawn one: so, i was 17 when my first spawn decided to make an appearance. i had no idea what child birth was supposed to be like. i had no idea what labor would entail. and i will tell you straight up: IT SUCKED. seriously. and not just in an...oh...this hurts kind of way. i mean it SUCKED as in embarrassing/terrifying/scarred for life. well, obviously not for life since i popped out another spawn...but scarring still the same.

so they had to induce my first spawn. turned out the kid had decided to it wasn't so bad having his own private swimming pool and extended his cooking time by two weeks. during july. the hottest part of the year. nice. thanks. still hold that against him. so, as much as they told me. being induced involves shoving seaweed where shouldn't be and waiting for it to so something (which it never did). i checked into the hospital for said seaweed spa treatment at 7 pm, not being allowed to eat dinner before going. so i waited all night...nothing happened. it was fab. nothing like sitting in a hospital bed all night waiting for nothing. so morning comes and i'm STARVING. i'm tired. i'm grumpy. i'm prego. you cant starve a prego for 18 hours. its just mean. i BEG to be allowed breakfast. turns out if you ever need to go into labor just eat some hospital eggs and sausage and a powdered donut. MAGIC. well. in a way. turns out the breakfast didn't like me much and requested to return from whence it came. as i stood up to go return the pity breakfast i felt a kick...or i thought it was a kick...either way it dropped me to my knees. in a puddle. and i crawled from there to the bathroom. that's how my mom found me when she came back to the room. like a deranged slug dragging a slime trail to the bathroom where i was in the process of being sick AND having a contraction AND freaking out about my water breaking all at the same time. great start. it went downhill from there...

same spawn: three hours later: STILL trying to get the dang kid out. since it's taking a while, they (the TEAM of people in the room) decided to try suction. if you're unfamiliar with this...well, it is what it is. SUCKING the kid out. with a vacuum. sounds fun, huh? well, like i said, i was 17. NONE of this made sense to me. i didn't have my contacts in or my glasses on, so i had NO CLUE what the fuck was going on. all i knew was one of the nurses has a hoover in my hoo-ha. i had read up a bit on labor before hand and unfortunately had even made it through the chapters on suction...and the risks: like sucking the brain through the skull. lovely thought (i'm sure that hasn't happened within the last 1000 years...but they put it in the damn book). so there i am...hoovered up...and all of a sudden: SLLLLLUUUURRRRRPPPP _POP_ (yes, it was that disgusting). OH.MY.FUCKING.GOD. what the fuck just happened? (or at the time, since i was young and doe eyed them...gee wally, did something go wrong?) i sat up and SCREAMED at the nurse: "DID YOU JUST RIP THE HEAD OFF MY BABY?!?!?!" turns out not so much...but they tried it again two more times with the same results. each time i freaked the fuck out. i was SURE it was going to suck his brain out or make him a cone head or something. turned out the spawn had a bunch of hair and they couldn't get a good seal. isn't childbirth glamorous? well. another hour, 2 doctors, 4 nurses, 2 labor coaches, 13 stitches and...well...a fishing expedition later i had my very own 9 pound 11 ounce spawn, brain intact, no banana head. no wonder he was stuck. gave birth to a dang toddler.

spawn #2: no horrible stories with this one...he was stubborn enough to make them go in after him and fish him out. and i DID NOT look over the curtain. so you're spared a traumatic delivery story there. all i know is they gave me a shot, pushed on my stomach once and there was a clean, screaming, healthy baby wrapped in a towel in the bassinet. TOTALLY the way to go. 96 hours of pain, one shot, 8 staples, and DONE. BUT. you can't be completely spared, this is a horror story of a different kind. rewind to before the fishing expedition: i was sitting in the delivery room waiting in a 48 hours showdown with spawn number 2. during this time, several people stopped by to visit- my grandmother being one of them. turns out she wanted to get me something for the new baby and asked if i had any nursing bras. okay. that right there should be enough. my grandmother asking about my bras. oy. SHOULD be enough. but it wasn't. oh hell no. that was just the beginning. the tip of the iceberg that sank the titanic. she had decided that i needed a GOOD nursing bra and she was going to get one for me. oy. as it goes with bra shopping, she needed to know what size i was. well, here's the thing about pregnancy: it makes your boobs grow. and if you plan on nursing, add another cup size or two for when your milk comes in. in short: i wasn't sure what size i would need. i had a rough guess of what i was up to, but wasn't 100% sure. so i guessed. umm....i'll take a c cup for $200 alex.. oh the horror...dear god the horror. my grandmother looked at me. then looked at herself. then looked back at me. it took a moment for this to sink in. and i was wondering what the hell...and the bomb dropped: "honey...you have to be bigger than that. i'm a d cup and you're much bigger than me."

there are things i've learned over the years that i could have gone the rest of my life never knowing. little facts and tidbits that really do not need to be taking up valuable real estate. finding out/realizing that my darling grandmother was in fact a FULL d cup is one of them. my whole life shifted in that moment. my grandmother went from being this shapeless person who looked, in my mind, like a raggedy ann doll under all her sweaters and dresses to suddenly being a PERSON. WITH PARTS. LARGE PARTS. and she was sizing up mine. in comparison to hers. I HAD A BOOB-OFF WITH MY GRANDMOTHER. oh god. at least i won i guess. after that, the c section was nothing. i think i was still so in shock they didn't even have to drug me (that's a lie. they drugged me. A LOT.)

and finally: me: yes, that's right. wonderful stories about my own infancy have been passed on over the years. all i can say is: my poor mother. turns out *shock* i wasnt the easiest of babies. i mean the basics were easy: i was fat. in baby speak that generally means good natured and healthy. from what i've heard i wasn't too demanding or colicy or horrible. but i did get sick. not really sick, but i had a rash. and it led to a great story. which is good enough for me. so. like most babies, i was born. and soon after birth i was hungry (i know...go figure with me, right?). my mother being a good and wholesome mother decided to nurse me. best start to life. turns out i didn't do so well with it. i guess at a few days old i developed thrush which is basically a yeast infection in the mouth. important note: this can be a common infection in infants who are bottle fed. remember that. so. my mother goes to the pharmacy to see if there's anything she can do to help this infection go away. she chats with the pharmacist a bit, explains what's wrong with me (well, at that particular time anyway...would be a whole saga now), and asks for any advice. the pharmacist, more than willing to help, did what he could. he told her: "the best way to help clear up thrush is to boil the nipples."

***S.I.L.E.N.C.E.***

as the story goes, it took a few moments for the pharmacist to notice the COMPLETE SILENCE in response to his suggestion. one can only guess the look of sheer horror he saw on my mother's face when he finally looked up. typical infection in BOTTLE FEEDING. typical solution for bottle feeding. NOT a typical infection in breast feeding. HORRIFYING solution for breast feeding. my mom, 27 YEARS LATER still had a horrified look on her face when she told me the story. she said she was standing there in those few moments of silence trying desperately to figure out what and why and how before the pharmacist caught on. "you are bottle feeding, right?" what's that saying about assuming? something about making a complete and total ass out of you? she said she barely whispered no and then the pharmacist fully realized what he'd just suggested. can you imagine? boil the nipples. now i know some people are into some pretty extreme things now days...piercings and what not. but this is one particular trend i have yet to hear about. ow. damn.

so. there you have it. a bit of trauma, just for you,. if you weren't already, my darling few readers, you should be completely good to go now on birth control for...well...forever. you're welcome.

this is why

forgive my sentiment. i've had a moment of definition this morning. a defense my writing: the good, the bad, the odd.

i write because i refuse to believe that i am unique.

i choose to believe that somewhere out there is someone else going through the same things. the same feelings. the same emotions. somewhere there is a person having the same thought. the same concern. the same stress. the same joy.

i write to give a voice where perhaps they cannot. i write so they will know they are not alone. i am here to share the good and the bad. i hope that people can find this and read it and maybe once or twice nod their head in agreement with or make a connection to my corner of the word.

i write because i have become strong enough to write. i have faced some of my fears and learned to stand up to them. i have learned to stand up for myself. i have learned to speak out loud. i am still learning to face loneliness. sorrow. tragedy. pain. feeling. and i am willing to share that. i am willing to stand in the gap and provide a connection. to be the bridge from an island of solitude to a community of strength. i may not understand in full, but i understand in part. we can never fully understand those around us, but we can be willing to share what we do know and hope that a small part is enough to continue on.

i want to share. the good days and the bad days. i want people to know they're not alone. i fear that i have already missed opportunities to do this. i fear that if i could have reached out earlier...things...may be different now. and i want to face that fear and move forward and take the missed opportunity and help something good grow out of it.

so here i will continue to lay bare my life. from my point of view. and hope that is enough.

someone needs a little avenue q

so. i just got a call from my son's principal. it seems my son has been accused of making a racist remark.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

my kid? REALLY? have you MET my kid?

~sigh~

so. the story goes. a bunch of kids were standing around at school and he hear a pack of girls talking about racism. one of the girls happens to be of african american decent and VERY sensitive about it (according to the principal). my son heard these girls talking about racism and asked: "how can you be racist if you're black?"

GRANTED...not the best thing to say, but i totally get where he's coming from. he's trying to figure out why someone who would probably be a target for quite a bit of racism in our neck of the woods (intentionally used phrase there) would themselves perpetuate racism onto others.

basically: hey, you know how bad something like this sucks, why would you be the same way to someone else?

BUT. being who he is, he blurted out the first thing that popped into his overly developed chicken little brain and caused offense. and now he's being accused of being racist. ironic, isn't it? he was TRYING to say something about NOT being racist and got accused of BEING racist.

lame.

might as well join in the fun eh? i'm racist against prepubescent teenage girls with too many hormones raging through their bodies that are talking too much smack then get into a typical girl hissie fit and accuse someone else of talking smack.

going WAY out on a limb, completely out in left field, and i will probably offend several people by making this statement, and i get that i'm probably not qualified to make this statement, but i'm dropping it anyway:

MAYBE this little girl needs to learn to be comfortable in her own skin whatever damn color it is and learn to stop being so sensitive about it. EVERY SINGLE KID in that school has something about themselves that they're uncomfortable with. i can guarantee that 100%: EVERY SINGLE STUDENT has something they don't like or are worried that someone is going to point at or make fun of. MY KID has been bullied for the last two weeks for wearing his shirts that he designed himself. but all he can do is talk to a teacher and get ignored (which i mentioned to the principal...how can you allow bullying in a school designed for gifted kids where they're supposed to be among like minded peers and above all that??) he can't drop buzz words like racism and get everyone's attention. he just has to put up with it until someone barks loud enough (i have a damn loud bark by the way).

THIS WASN'T RACISM. this was a kid trying to figure out why other kids are being mean to each other. he didn't say it maliciously. he didn't say it to hurt anyone. he was asking a question to try to figure out a fucking answer.

I KNOW he needs to learn to think twice and speak once. hell...most of us adults are still working on that lesson. and i'm sure this will greatly improve his learning curve on that one. but HOLY HELL PEOPLE.

go listen to some damn avenue q and shut the hell up already.

its like old yeller...

ok kids. it is a well known fact that i have some seriously FUCKED UP conversations. i’ve been known to embarrass, shock, terrify, confound, offend, leave speechless, and make hot beverages shoot out noses.

it’s a gift. what can i say.

did you miss the conversation about shoulder blades? or the one about how i will NEVER go on a date with another guy from arizona? did you hear the conversation about how i wished i could make a coat out of my brother instead of cremating all his beautiful tattoos (he had two FULL sleeves and a full chest/stomach piece! it just made sense!)?

today kids. today we have another entry that easily makes it into the top three conversations OF ALL TIME. and it started simple enough:

i’m at work today talking to a coworker about a job that has just come in…it’s for some work down in adams county. thought i had remembered a buzz about a new prison going in down in that direction. turns out there is a prison closing down there…a women’s prison. conversation as follows:

me: what do they do with all the people when they close a prison?
him: put em down.
me: um…what? put em down? like when an animal shelter closes and they have to put down all the unadopted animals?
him: yup. if no one claims them by a certain date they just put em down.

not even kidding: this is the closest i’ve come to peeing myself at my desk i was laughing so fucking hard. i may have even snorted in the presence of said coworker. oh.em.gee. i’m still dying thinking about it.

cleaning out the post its:

i try to keep track of all the things i want to brain vomit about. this usually ends up being either notes scribbled on my wrist while driving or a plethora of post it notes covering everything with an area even partially big enough/capable of holding the smallest section of the sticky backing. more than once i've had to clean out the sea of post its that have fallen off my phone to be abandoned on the bottom of my purse. that being said: i've stacked up a few again. and since i seem to be on a roll tonight (this morning) let's clean house shall we!

my movie premier: I WENT TO A MOVIE PREMIER. and i saw my friends (and yes, even myself) up on the big screen. in a REAL, FULL LENGTH MOVIE (which will be debuting at a LARGE international film festival within a few months). can't even say how epic that was. got all dressed up, went out to the premier and then out with the writer/director/actors afterwords. E.P.I.C. can i say that again? EPIC. a real freaking movie. written. filmed. produced. ON THE BIG FUCKING SCREEN. and i was in it! see the picture in the wallet of the guy and his dead wife? I'M THE DEAD WIFE IN THE PICTURE. dont' worry. i won't charge too much for autographs.

new couples: you know how you go out to breakfast and you see a couple come in and you KNOW it's one of their first awkward morning after breakfasts? yeah...i got to sit next to one of those the other day. HI-LARIOUS. first off you know it's new because she's DRAGGING him in to the place by his hand. almost literally dragging him. as in arms fully extended in each direction (him: forward, her: backwards). she's "casual" in a ball cap, retard suit...i mean track suit, sneakers...but her ponytail out the back of the hat is very polished, she is in FULL war paint, and she keeps checking and adjusting herself. you KNOW girls stop putting in that effort once a guy is good and suckered in. second clue that it's new: every story requires a FULL back story before it can be completed. example: so. i ran into my buddy mick yesterday...you know mick...he's the guy that goes to mexico with his school teacher wife...the brunette...every year and brings me back a case of mexican beer. i think you met him once at that football party. and mick reminded me that we have a poker game this weekend. it's a poker game all the guys and i have been doing since college. we had to stop for a few years when everyone got married and started having kids but we started it up a few months ago. we get together at a different guys house every week and play poker til we run out of beer or money or both. so mick reminded me of this poker game, but i told him i won't be able to make it this week...
SERIOUSLY? a give minute diatribe to say there's a poker game this week you won't be going to? HI-LARIOUS. it was even better watching her nod along the whole time KNOWING she was taking crazy mental notes about ALL of it for future reference. epic. morning after breakfasts. awesome to watch. not so great to be stuck at.

return policy: i figured out which dating category i fit into finally. i'm not allowed to be "single" since i have a divorce on my wrap sheet. i HATE saying that i'm divorced since i've been single three times longer than i was married since the divorce (i firmly believe that once youve been single longer than you were married you should be allowed to be JUST SINGLE again). anywho. i'm not single. i hate being divorce. so i created a new category just for me: returned. yeah. that's me. RETURNED. which really isn't better than single or divorced. it's like the tv on the clearance rack at sears that's been returned: there's no box, you take it as is. it's not marked down much because there's nothing wrong with it. there's no defects, it has the remote. it works perfectly fine. but it's still clearance. does anyone really want the clearance marked down item? once in a while a creepy bargain shopper will threaten to take you home. but that's about it. you just sit there on the return shelf watching all the brand new tv's find a home. or people scavenging the heavily damaged, REALLY marked down ones (really, i can fix it...). doesn't matter why it was returned- if it was way better quality than the original purchaser knew how to handle. or whether the guy couldn't afford the payments. or if he decided that he really couldn't handle the little extras that came with it. or if he decided to pick up a twice rejected whore of a tv tossed off to the side of the road offering blow jobs for $20 in the back of a gas station with big hips and bad rodeo hair (you know how some tv's can be...)
hmm...where was i? oh yes. i'm the like-new returned tv sitting on the shelf. getting dusty. and older/less flashy than the new models every day. and the most action i get is when the cleaning crew runs a feather duster over me. that reminds me...time to schedule my annual girl appointment...

could you?

i've been meaning to share this for a week or so now. just haven't gotten around to making myself sit down and write it:

my oldest spawn is a typical preteen kid: he's moody. you never really know what he's thinking. and sometimes he flat out shocks the hell out of me.

the other day he was acting all strange and holden caulfield on me (or more so than normal anyway). i finally was able to get him to talk to me a bit- it went something like: "if you don't tell me what's going on, i'm going to dead leg you so hard you'll need a walker at graduation." so, he talked. smart choice. he goes through these phases of i don't want to be at moms house, or i don't want to be at dads house (generally based on whomever made him do more chores the previous week is the house he wants to avoid). typical split home kid...work the situation so it works best for you...this time around it happened to be an "i don't want to go to my dad house." normally i wouldn't think too much about it but recently his dad had to take a second job and their time together has been little and far between...so it seemed odd that the spawn would be willing to give ANY of it up, regardless of the chore situation. so i pushed it.

me: WHY don't you want to go to your dads house?
him: i just DON'T
me: WHY
him: MOM. i just don't
me: dead leg much?
him: MOM. he smokes pot!
me: so? he has since high school. you've know he does for a few years...you told me about this a LONG time ago. why the sudden issue?
him: because i can't hang out with a drug addict mom!
me: (trying to keep a straight face) a drug addict?
him: yeah. he smokes pot like, all the time. he's a drug addict.
me: ok. i understand that. i think if you really feel this way you need to let him know.

**pause for a bad parenting moment: i pulled this line out of the bag thinking it would be a non issue. thinking it would just end the conversation so i could go off and laugh my ass off about how he made his dad sound like the head of the mexican drug cartel or something just for smoking a little pot. like some dark, scary, corrupt drug underworld had suddenly taken over his dad's suburban cul-de-sac cookie cutter home. unpause**

him: really? do i have to tell him?
me: if it really bothers you this much then yeah, i think you should talk to him about it. he deserves to know why you don't want to hang out at his house. and i can't tell him your feelings...you need to tell him your feelings.
him: but it will be really hard!
me: you're absolutely right. it will be the hardest thing you've ever had to do. but if it's important to you would it be worth it?

so he walks away for a few minutes then comes back. and asks to borrow my phone.

AND. CALLED. HIS. DAD.

let that sink in. my ELEVEN YEAR OLD called his dad and talked to him about how smoking pot was an issue. which meant telling his dad he knew about the pot. and standing up to his dad for what he believed was something wrong. ELEVEN. can you even imagine? i've had to have the drug conversation with someone twice. one was a pot smoker that liked to play baseball with my kids while stoned. the other was an oxy addict that thought it was okay to have his "just in case" stash on him while he was at my house ("i don't NEED them, i just like to have them in case i get stressed out or upset about something." whatever.). both were a HELL NO for me. but i was in my twenties. and neither one was a parent.

can you imagine? my eleven year old called his dad out. i was SO PROUD of him in that moment. i didn't agree with him. but i was SO PROUD of him for having his opinion and being willing to stand up for it.

so. he got off the phone with his dad and i hugged him for approximately the next 3954 hours (did i mention i was proud of him??) then waited for the phone call back from his dad to ask that the eff that was all about. eventually spawn went off to bed and his dad DID call. i explained to him that i didn't agree but thought it was important to let him express his opinion. i told him not to freak out about it, i would talk to the spawn more in the morning about it. but we were both amazed that he did it.

the next morning the spawn and i did talk more about it and i explained my opinion of it and why some people use it. we talked about how for some people it helps them be able to calm down and turn their brain off which was something he could relate to being an over thinker like me. we talked about how it helps sick people with cancer or different diseases. how it can be legal in washington with a prescription. how it can be safer for some people than being put on other medications. i explained to him that i have tried it before because the medications the doctors had me try for depression/stress were too dangerous for me but i don't smoke pot because it could get me fired from my job. i explained that it is a "safe" drug. it is NOT a meth or cocaine or heroin. i explained that i don't agree with when his dad started smoking (high school) but i can certainly understand why he smokes now with all the stress of the last year. we talked about other friends that smoke and why- war veterans with PTSD, chronic pain, over thinkers. we talked about how it isn't safe for kids to smoke pot because it their bodies haven't finished developing yet and they don't know how it will affect them. i tried to cover every different angle on it i could and let him know that i was very glad he had thought about it and had his opinion on it and had talked to his dad. i told him how proud i was of him again. if he can talk to his dad about it then talking to friends at school about it will be CAKE. if he could tell his dad he thought it was wrong then peer pressure should be nothing!

after we finished talking he thought about it more and called his dad again that night and talked more to him about it too (and went and spent the evening/night with his dad).

but the whole thing just SHOCKED me. can you imagine? taking a stand like that at ELEVEN? holy crap. when the cards are down...that's a pretty damn good kid right there. he's turning out well in spite of me! there may be hope for him yet!

thank you captain obvious

so. i'm trying to learn.

it's okay to feel things. without blaming something/having an excuse.
it's okay to be sad and cry without saying it's pms.
it's okay to be upset about things and explore why instead of just trying to make it go away.
it's okay to be depressed and hurt and sad and heartbroken without creating a joke to cover it up.

crying doesn't mean i'm weak or being a drama queen or overly emotional. it means i'm a person. and i'm allowing myself to BE a person.

today was a hard day for no reason in particular. and part of the way through the day i just wanted to have a good cry but i kept talking myself out of it and blaming pms and telling myself to knock it off. then i finally stopped and asked myself why it's so wrong to just cry it out sometimes. why is it so bad to allow myself that moment? and just ALLOW it. don't try to make an excuse. don't try to make a joke. don't try to rush it along. just allow it. just be there. in that moment. let my heart and my mind go through that. let my spirit purge and heal.

and so i did. i let myself have that moment. i put in my mp3 ear buds and bawled my way through taking off my make up and washing my face and brushing my teeth. i'm letting myself feel it while i'm writing this. i'm not making an excuse. i'm just feeling.

it's odd for me. and it's scary. and i honestly don't like it. it seems like once you get started ALL of it wants to come out at once which is feeling like a LOT too much for one night. it's been hard typing this because i keep wanting to joke or be bitchy or cover up my exposed part. i think the hardest part is makes me feel the gap of not having someone to share all this with. which is getting harder every day. maybe it's because its spring time and everyone around me is coupling off. maybe it's because my youngest spawn will be 7 on friday which means it's been over 6 years since i was part of a "we" (as short lived as even that was). i just know that as much as i've said it before, it feels so much more this time around. maybe it's simply because i'm actually learning to let myself feel.