end of an era

it’s thursday people. THURSDAY. i have somehow managed to make it all the way to thursday without making one single person shoot a hot beverage out their nose. i apologize for my extreme failure.

~sigh~

so. i was bored last weekend. i finally decided there was nothing better to do than clean my house. which made me realize i don’t like the way my furniture was arranged. which made me realize: it must be time for new furniture. so i bought some. it’s being delivered tomorrow. so i’m taking the day off. might as well, right? mostly, i will be spending all of tomorrow being completely inappropriate with my new chair. can you say PERFECT. READING. CHAIR.? seriously. i think this chair may be every book whore’s wet dream. which i happen to be. and it is.

so. getting new furniture means getting rid of old furniture. which is actually sad. see, the couch i have now is the last remnant of my divorce. which i could actually care less about…i wasn’t married long enough to be too attached any memories there. what it IS attached to however is memories of my little spawn. the couches were bought RIGHT BEFORE he was born. we decided that having a baby meant we needed to upgrade from my college futon to REAL furniture. so we picked out what turned out to be the MOST MAGICAL couch and love seat. i actually have to warn people when they come over: sitting on these couches for any extended length of time WILL put you to sleep. it’s what they do. perhaps because i broke them in the right way- after the spawn was born i wasn’t allowed to nurse him in bed at night (don’t ask..one of MANY stupid rules. oy vey.). so spawn and i spent basically the first 9 months (til we moved out) sleeping all snuggled up on the couch together. some of the sweetest baby memories E.V.E.R. awww…now he’s all growed up and a smarty pants (he’s discovering his sense of humor now…funniest. thing. ever. to watch).

besides the small spawn memories, i have to think of all the COULD HAVE BEEN small spawns. yes, i’m sure there are millions of aborted babies on that couch. (like you didn’t know this was coming…it’s thursday people). and i can honestly say: none of the aborted babies on the couch would have been mine. looking back, i honestly can’t remember one time of being all freaky deaky on my couch…there had to have been once…seven years…hmmm…depressing. that means even if there WAS an instance, it wasn’t very memorable. double depressing.

apparently, however, that couch is THE après spot for everyone else that has ever been to/stayed over at my house. odd. there have been several nights where i decided i REALLY DIDN’T need a drink of water from the kitchen…no need to interrupt the animal planet re-enactment going on in my living room.

so. tomorrow is the end of an era. good bye to my old couch and love seat. hello to my new lovely modern couch and chair. good bye aborted babies. hello cushions with no mystery spots.

the titanic, the hindenberg, and the train running over a small puppy: recap

ok kids. you knew it was coming: sunday night date = monday morning blog. OH YES I AM. grab your popcorn, your coffee, your booze (made it tolerable for me) and snuggle up to hear the tale:

so. i was SUPPOSED to go out saturday to coffee. life happens, plans change, we were able to rearrange for sunday evening. now. let me first say this is my first REAL date in well over a year. the last time was drinks at the illinois tavern with a guy (which never expanded into a second date). before that? umm…i’d have to say 2007…elvis…before we shifted into being friends that go out occasionally. let me again say: i’ve been OUT several times, but always with clearly defined friends (several long and fucked up stories there). i haven’t had the first date: is he going to like me, could i DATE him, is there a chance of this going to a second date? jitters in a LONG time. so. to sum up: i haven’t been sitting at home rotting for the last few years, but i also haven’t been “dating”.

curtain open: sunday night: post street ale house:

**back track: i met this gentleman (he really was chivalrous) on plentyoffish.com if you haven’t checked it out, don’t waste your time. i signed up after a friend did. let’s just say…~sigh~…plenty of options for men, NONE. ZERO. ZIP. NOTHING. for women. unless you happen to like complete douche bags that want to “hang out” at 11 at night and have an affinity for texting you…well, let’s just say it’s odd to be introduced to ALL of someone before you’ve even met them. i’m not a prude by any means but holy hell men. NO. just NO.

so. i emailed a bit with this fish and agreed to meet for drinks. like i said, fish was a gentleman. stood up when i arrived, opened doors, offered his coat when we were walking back to the cars after dinner. very chivalrous and polite and nice. hhhhmmm…what can i say now…hmmm….was he interesting? hmmm….good question. did he carry on a conversation? hmmm…. was he witty and humerous? hmmmm… did he respond to EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. THING. I. SAID. WITH. HMMMMMM?? yes. every. single. thing. for THREE HOURS. and i have to say: i did not crack ONE SINGLE JOKE for three hours. i TRIED. but it’s hard to joke when you say something and the response is HMMMMM. LEARN A NEW FUCKING WORD. and maybe it’s a cultural thing…i don’t know. he was born and raised in japan (dad: american navy, mom: japanese) so maybe that’s the culture in japan…i don’t know. never been there. maybe that’s their way of showing that they heard you and are considering it before they respond. i have no clue. i DO know that it is a conversation killer. any guy readers: want to kill a bad date? start saying HMMMM after she says ANYTHING. (also a fun game: come up with questions that hmmm…would be a HORRIBLE response to. does this make my ass look big? hmmm… do you take this woman to be your wife? hmmm… was it good for you? hmm… seriously…hours of endless fun).

so. we’re at the post street ale house having STRAINED conversation, but not TERRIBLE. and he asks if i’ve had dinner yet. now a SMART cookie would BAIL at this point. lie, say yes you have. say you have to get home to put the kids in bed on a school night. say your left peg leg is chafing and you need to go home and take it off. SAY ANYTHING BUT THIS: no i haven’t, are you hungry?

~sigh~

i totally blame my well documented obsession with air force boys. tell me you’re a boy in blue and you automatically get extra outs (although for being stationed at fairchild, he had NO CLUE all the different things that this base actually does…real air force? or pretend? hmmm….).

so. we walked over to luigi’s for dinner. which…SCORE…luigi’s…YUM. it’s the chubby bunny in me. i can’t help it. now, here’s one thing i forgot to mention about fish: he’s a looker. not as in ROWR, can i lock you up as a sex slave for the next week, but as in WOW…do you need to look at my boobs one more time or are you good for the next 5 minutes? and it’s not just the boobs. it’s everything. he looks at everything. but your eyes. multiple times. not so great for conversation. and he, of course, did this to the waitress too. now i GET IT. i know guys check out chicks. I KNOW THIS. but on a FIRST DATE? you can’t contain it for ONE EVENING? the rest of the time it’s fine. i get it. hell, let me know which one you think is hot and i’ll compare point ratings with you. but on a first date? and to pull the whole MULTIPLE LEERINGS?

~sigh~

so. dinner. MORE strained conversation. more awkward conversation changes because IT’S FUCKING UNSETTLING when everything you say is met with hmmm… did i say something wrong? have i offended you? are you not interested in this topic? are you not able to follow along? am i using words that are too big? so. at some point between the salad and the actual dinner i switched gears. i went from the unintentionally awkward conversations to the VERY INTENTIONALLY AWKWARD conversations. here’s the bombs i dropped: divorce. closing the baby factory. my brother’s death/cremation. world history. reproduction laws of foreign nations. the poorly engineered and therefore fatally destructive design of the tacoma narrows bridge. oh yeah. i went for it. we covered the history of river front park and world expo ’74 which, naturally, led to the discussion of the FIRST world’s fair on american soil in chicago and the emergence of america’s first serial killer. KA. FUCKING. BOOM. resonse: hmmmm

~sigh~

so. we walk back over to our cars (if you’ve even been to spokane you’ll know that the post street ale house and luigi’s aren’t exactly next door) and i’m READY TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE. so i go for the awkward “thanks, it was nice” hug and he does it. he goes in for the good night kiss. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WE TALKED ABOUT SERIAL KILLERS.

~sigh~

so i pulled the “but i’m shy” card. yes. *ashamed* i pulled that card. the LAST CARD i could ever be accused of or expected to pull. and i pulled it. said i had to get home to make sure the spawns were in bed for school the next day even though i already knew they were.

GOOD NEWS: on the way home i got to see the police making 6 people get down IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. nice. oh yeah, and the shallow portion of the report: not TERRIBLE looking, but really not my type. wearing oversized ecko polo shirt (really? they didn’t have it in any other size besides circus tent?), khaki shorts that went well past his knees (again…SIZES?). and those stupid boy sneakers that only pull on but have no laces. you know the ones…they look like air jordans without the laces? HATE. yes, i’m shallow. also: *ashamed* YOU’RE IN THE MILITARY. they have GOOD medical benefits. USE THEM. GET BRACES. sorry. but teeth…it’s one of my HUGE pet peeves.

so. not TERRIBLE. really not the worst date i’ve been on. but not an experience i’m looking to repeat any time soon. unless someone buys me a tiny wireless camera and we can ALL play the hmm….drinking game. THAT, and that alone might warrant a second date.

this post does not exist:

i would just to make one thing perfectly clear: the blog you are about to read does not exist. the things it talks about DO NOT HAPPEN. like ever. it's ALL made up. NONE of it is real. this is all in you imagination.


this subject is completely made up because we all know that none of this would EVER happen to a woman, and IF it ever did (it doesn't) we would never admit to it. much less blog about it. in detail.


clear?


ok. so. i have an issue with...umm...dropping off the cosby's at the pool. taking a little time to read a magazine. visiting mr. hanky. POOPING. okay? i have an issue with poop.


~sigh~


yes. i went there. it is too much information thursday after all.


so. because it's me, i can't have normal issues with it. or maybe they are normal but since women never talk about it we don't know it's normal...especially since it doesn't actually happen. like ever. i'm making it all up that i ever would consider doing such a thing. right? we on the same page?


ok. so. here's my issues with pooping...if it were ever to happen. which it doesn't:


1: the noise. you KNOW that when you're home alone you will never make noise. everything will go as planned and there will be no problems. but the minute you're at work, or in a public place, or in the most inconvenient place possible, all hell breaks loose. see, it's when you're in those places that your body suddenly decides to release every single molecule of gas that you've been holding in since the day of your birth (cause women don't do that either). the fuller the bathroom is, the more gas you've been holding in. same goes with tiled bathrooms: the more tile to create an echo, the more noise your body will figure out how to make. it happens every. single. time.  also: what's with the inevitable "splash"????? why does it always have to sound like shamoo doing tricks at sea world? why does it sound like the winner at a belly flop contest EVERY. TIME.??


2: the cosby's HATE me. it never. ever. fails. every time they HAVE TO GO TO THE POOL RIGHT NOW we get to the pool and the decide they're not really up for swimming right now. maybe the water looks cold. maybe they they're afraid of the high dive. i don't know what it is, but they ALWAYS decide they don't want to go swimming as badly as they did two minutes ago when i was in the middle of work. or...one will decide to go swimming and the other can't make up their minds. maybe i do...oh no...wait...i don't. oh yeah i do....wait...nope. BUT NOW I DO. just kidding. now? no. and you try to...you know...push them off the edge, encourage them along...but they won't have any of it. so you're all FINE. no swimming for you! and then 10 minutes later they're all WE WANT TO GO SWIMMING NOW. 


sweet chocolate baby jesus (yes, i did that on purpose).


ok. i'll quit now. that's more than enough for me on this subject. two TMI thursdays in a row...damn. i promise i won't make this a habit. or maybe i will. hell, it's nothing new for me anyway.


and remember: THIS BLOG NEVER HAPPENED. it's impossible to write a blog about something that i would never ever do...right? RIGHT?? ok. good. you were never here....

the REAL endings:

dear prince charming: quit stealing my shoes you asshole. do you know how hard it is to find the perfect strappy stiletto? <3 cinderella

dear prince charming: just b/c you know basic cpr i'm supposed to marry you? sorry. i'm waiting for a REAL doctor. <3 snow white

hey aladdin: no i don't want to "ride your flying carpet". did you REALLY expect that line to work? go rub your magic lamp. <3 jasmine

dear prince charming: fuck long hair. rockin a twiggy cut. ran off w/my stylist. find another chick for your long hair fettish. <3 rapunzel

dear peter pan: "pixie dust"? really? try stripper dust. i'm not stupid you know. how bout you DON'T call when you grow up. <3 wendy

dear prince charming: 100 yrs? really? did you stop off for "just a few" or some shit? how bout you kiss my ass? <3 sleeping beauty    

liquid math

i will admit that i've never been particularly good at math. as i've gotten older i've learned which math skills from school were important to keep (figuring out sales discounts), and which math skill could be replaced by other vital information (like replacing imaginary numbers with which movies lauren graham is in. rowr. IMPORTANT). there have been times that i've worried about certain math skills that i've let lapse: like when my oldest son came to me asking about how to find the area of a circle...do i LOOK like an engineer? no. moving on.

but. it has occurred to me...in the last 5 minutes specifically...that there is one particular IMPORTANT form of math that i have never mastered. i'm not sure if there is an expert on this type of math, or if you just have to study on the fly...so to speak...

i'm talking about liquid math. you know what i'm talking about. THAT math. the math it would be handy to know before venturing out to any bar with friends. the math that comes in handy before long road trips. the IMPORTANT MATH. i've worked up some rough equations, but i'm not quite sure how to solve them. or perhaps not so much equations as things i would like to be able to have equations for:

example one:

chubby bunny is going to a bar. how many drinks may she consume before breaking the seal is ABSOLUTELY required?

example two:

chubby bunny is going on a road trip. please solve for a beverages to rest stops ratio.

example three:

chubby bunny has consumed three large glasses of water at work today. the last time she peed was approximately 1 hour ago. it is 15 minutes until quitting time and the commute home is 20 minutes. will she make it before resorting to the potty dance?

additionally, besides these examples, there are forms of this math that i CAN NOT figure out for the life of me...mostly in relation to ratios:

one glass of water = one trip to pee

one 16 oz coffee = one trip to pee + "extra" time

one shot of alcohol = 18 trips to pee

two shots of alcohol + 2 mixed  drinks = infinite trips to pee in 5 minute increments.

see, logic says that a glass of water has WAY more content than one shot of alcohol...yet the ratio of return is VERY different. and there are variables that are thrown in: has food been consumed? is there a bathroom nearby (this has a reverse ratio effect: the further the bathroom, the more often one has to pee), is there a long line (also a reverse ratio), is the outfit of choice particularly difficult to maneuver (yet one more reverse ratio). and don't even get me started on belts...that just changes the WHOLE EQUATION.

anyone have any tips? a cheat sheet? study guide? does ANYONE have liquid math figured out?

and men wonder why...

so. i got to thinking about my purse today. like most mom’s, i carry a small suitcase. not even kidding. it’s a messenger bag…and it’s FULL. now, granted when i’m going out, just me, for one evening, i can usually reduce the load to JUST my small wallet, lip gloss and phone. done. simple. but: for any other given day…there’s no way to reduce the amount of STUFF in there.

why? what in the world could women possibly need that takes up that much space? here you go. you asked for it: the glimpse inside a woman’s purse:

basics:

wallet: contains drivers license, debit cards, check book, car insurance, medical insurance, “club” cards (you know…safeway, fred meyer, shopko, barnes and noble…any and every store that has ever asked you to sign up for anything), credit cards, gift cards, punch cards, pictures of kids/family, receipts, notes to self, phone numbers of kids friends (if you have kids), half completed shopping lists, stamps, a recipe from a friend, and hidden somewhere in there (usually) the emergency $20 that your dad told you to carry AT ALL TIMES. (i split all this into TWO wallets)

cell phone

mp3 player

sun glasses

lip gloss/lipstick

water bottle

work id/entry card

organizer: these are losing space to smart phones that can hold contacts/appointments

pens (usually 3 that don’t work, one that does)

gum

camera: also losing space to smart phones that have good pic quality/can record short movie clips

medication: tylenol, ibuprofen, excedrin, midol, benedryl

touch up kit: compact, extra lip gloss, eyeliner, bobby pins, brush/comb

emergency kit: spare tampons/pads, condoms

disaster kit: small hairspray or nail polish, nail file, nail clippers, floss, toothbrush (in some form), wet wipes small super glue, bobby pins, safety pins, sewing kit, dryer sheets (don’t ask, they work for EVERYTHING)

mom expansion pack (after graduation from diaper bag):

fruit snacks/general snacks

1st aid kit: bandaids, neosporin, gauze, gloves

toys

crayons

drawing paper (envelopes from bills will work)

kid gum (the other stuff is “too hot”)

nerd expansion pack:

journal (or two)

hard cover book

additional electronics/gadgets

add to this miscellaneous things that get thrown in for odd reasons (i once had the pcv pipe to my car in my purse for a few days), extra scraps of paper, notes to self, spare change, odds and ends, kid trash, tupperware containers, extra napkins…it all takes up space! and this is just MY purse...each woman had her own stock/supply that she likes to/has to carry around (a friend is a diabetic...she has to carry her supplies with her). so. next time you even THINK about asking what the hell is in there...stop, think, remember all the different things you've asked for that have always magically appeared. now you know why/how.

fear:

so. i will admit to fear. i'm afraid of some normal things like snakes and extreme heights. i'm also scared of odd things like having my curtains open at night (you never know when you're going to look out and see a serial killer with a hook hand) or having my house burn down at night and the smoke detectors not going off (i used to lay awake at night staring at the smoke detectors making sure the red light flashed every few minutes).

i'm afraid of something happening to my kids. i'm afraid of something happening to my family. i'm afraid of many things.

i've also overcome many fears: i've had to walk through fire at times to be able to support my kids. i've had to pack up and move on ZERO planning. i've been able to make ends meet even when it seemed impossible. i've been through hurt. i've been through betrayal. i've been through abuse. i've been through heartbreak. i've lost friends and family. i've been through things that break some people. i've walked through those fires and come out the other side.

this weekend i admitted to a new fear. one i didn't know i had. actually, i don't know if it's new, or simply one i've been afraid to admit to before now (you know it's bad when your afraid to say what you're afraid of). but one thing i've learned in life is that you can't over come your fears until you call them by name, make them step out of the shadows, and face them head on. i've been afraid of depression: and i've learned to call it what it is, say when it's attacking, and learned how to battle it. so. here i go again: i'm calling out this fear: i'm naming it. hopefully i can find a way to over come it:

i'm afraid of what will happen if i become a better me. now hold on...follow me on this one: i'm afraid of what would happen if i get rid of all my excuses. if i mellow my quirks, lose my chubby bunny weight, learn patience, acceptance. i'm scared of what will happen if i break down the walls i've spent so long putting up. there's a bit of a catch: i'm already a damn good me. i love me. i'm a strong, intelligent, amazing person. i would be a damn good catch for some lucky guy just as i am. but i know there's room for improvement: i know there are things about me i can make better. but there's a fear that goes along with that. you see, right now i KNOW why i'm not "datable": it's me. it's things about me that keep guys away. i haven't let anyone any close enough to let it be someone else. it's always my fault why things don't work out. it's because i'm too quirky/picky. i'm too much of a bitch. i won't let someone get close enough to care about. i'm too chubby for them. i'm not neat enough for them. i have a dark sense of humor. i'm too sarcastic. it's all things about ME. only me.

in one of my last posts i vomited about how i really don't believe there's anyone out there willing to take on a single mom with two high needs kids. and the complete honest truth is that i'm scared to find out FOR SURE. i've had people say it. i've had SEVERAL people say it. but i'm scared to really test their words. right now i can hide behind my bitchiness and my weight. i can blame being single on myself. it's all ME. i'm too chubby to be datable. i'm too honest. i'm a bitch. i'm too quirky. it's all me. i'm scared that if i "fix" myself then it will be something else. something i can't fix. and i can't face that.

it doesn't matter how much weight i lose, or how pollyanna i become: weight loss won't fix aspergers. being the nicest person on earth won't make dealing with one of the smartest kids i know any easier. what happens if i fix me and things still don't work out? what if the simple truth is that no one wants to take on high needs kids? i don't want that to be the reason. i CAN'T LET that be the reason. it's ok when it's me. it's not ok if it's them. i am the way i am because I CHOOSE TO BE. i can change me. they can't. they didn't ask to be the way they are. and they don't deserve to be blamed or an excuse or anything. they're perfect and wonderful kids, and i don't want anyone to see them as anything other than that.

i was told i need to work on my first impression. does that even matter? does it matter how smooth and polished and amazing my first impression is if they won't stick around after that? I WANT TO BE THE REASON. i have to be the reason. that's all there is to it. i don't think i can walk through this fear. i don't see how. but then again...i rarely see how until i'm looking back at the trail that was blazed.