So some of my faithful readers may have noticed that I removed my picture. Others may NOT have noticed, and still others may not really give a crap either way. In any case, I feel obligated to let you know why it is gone – plus it gives me a chance to showcase my insecurities again.
There was a time when I thought that picture was a pretty good one. Obviously, that time wasn’t too long ago, since I posted it pretty recently. But as of late, while perusing other blogs, I have started to feel less and less confident about that picture. And eventually, I started scrutinizing it and thinking such comments as “Gee, your head looks like it is floating. How stupid!” and “You don’t even HAVE bangs anymore! And your face looks fat, too.” I started doing this because it seems that most of the blogs I have been reading have comments on them from all these really attractive 20-somethings. Nothing against them, of course, but I feel pretty BLAH when I look at their pictures. Now, obviously I am no longer a 20-something, but I really feel like I deserve to be considered eye candy just like the rest of the female bloggers. And that particular picture just wasn’t cutting it.
Now, the PROBLEM here is that I don’t consider myself to be all that photogenic. Whether that is true or not is yet to be determined, since I am always TOLD I am photogenic. But we’ll find out soon enough, because I am going to make Roxy take a WHOLE BUNCH of pictures of me, until I find one worthy of posting on my blog. And when I do, there damn well better be some guys commenting on how hot I am. Or I will be really depressed. Don’t you people realize that I need my ego stroked?? (By someone OTHER than Mr. South Side??) And I DON’T want any pity comments, either. Because even though I may be somewhat insecure at times, I DO feel that I am still an attractive woman. Or at least not butt-ugly. Rest assured, the picture I post will definitely make people see me in a different light. (No, it won’t be anything pornographic – Roxy is taking it, remember??)
So there you have it. The quest for the PERFECT PICTURE. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Laughing Out Loud
One of the best things about having kids is when they make you laugh. Which is a lot, but personally, I have to be careful now because Roxy gets VERY insulted if I don't stifle my laughs in time. It's not like I'm laughing AT her - oh, who am I kidding? Yes, I am. I am laughing at my daughter, but I love her even more than ever when I am. I just have to turn my head or something, because she doesn't like it.
Anyway, a couple of days ago Roxy came in from playing with her friends and flopped down on the couch. She announced that she was "SOOOOO hot" and decided to take a bath to cool off. I told her that sounded like a good idea, and told her she could even take a shower if she wanted, because that would cool her off, too. But she was pretty set on a bath. Fine, whatever. So I go back to watching whatever it was I was watching, and Roxy leaves. She goes into her bedroom, and then walks out in her bathing suit. (Now you know why it is so hard to catch the laugh BEFORE it escapes. She TOTALLY catches me off-guard!!) I think I choked on my laugh, and managed to ask her WHY she was wearing a bathing suit to take a bath. She looked at me (as only an exasperated 10-year-old can) and replied, "MOOOOM! It's not like I'm going to WASH myself or anything!" All-righty, then. As I tried to figure this one out, I said, "Ok, but you STILL can be naked in the tub, even if you AREN'T going to wash yourself." Again, I get the look like I am the biggest moron on the planet, and she says (a little slower, this time) "Yeah, but I'm not going to use SOAP..." At this point, I figured it was best to choose my battles, and off she went to take a bath in her bathing suit.
A couple minutes later, I heard my neighbor coming in from walking his dog. I opened the door to give Steeler some leftover steak (Steeler LOVES me) and my neighbor asked if I got my bathroom floor and toilet done. I told him yes, and it looked REALLY nice - but Roxy was taking a bath right now. He was like, "Oh, that's fine, I'll come look another time." And I kind of laughed and said, "Actually, she's in her bathing suit, so if you REALLY want to see it now..." I think the look my neighbor gave me at that point was priceless too. But he decided that he would wait anyway. (Don't worry, I wouldn't have REALLY let him in, bathing suit or not, when my kid was in the tub!!)
Then last night Roxy was putting away her homework, and I asked her if I could see it first. She had to fill in several boxes with her own responses, and I think some of them were priceless:
I wish:
I could buy the mall
I could get everything for free
I was on the hundred dollar bill
I could get on any ride at Great America without waiting in line
If I could, I would:
Go skydiving
Bungee jump
Fly (These three from the kid who won't even go on a roller coaster!!)
Get a million pets (Yes, I nixed THAT one!)
Live at the mall (I'm starting to see a pattern with the mall...)
I wonder:
How much money is in the whole world (Now, that's a tricky one...)
How many people are in the USA (Currently - 295,734,134. I looked it up - have to tell her)What is the biggest spider in the world called (The male goliath bird-eating spider - again, I looked it up)What it would be like if I were a cat (Well, if you were one of MY cats, you'd have a pretty cushy life!)
I don't like:
Spider webs
Mondays
Fish
Paper Cuts
Country Music
Ugly Colors (I like that Country Music comes AFTER paper cuts but BEFORE ugly colors...)
My parents always say:
Try your hardest (Awwww!)
Don't give up (Again, Awwww!)
Good job (You got it - Awwww!)
No TV (Wait a minute - I don't ALWAYS say that!!)
Feed the cats (Well, if I DIDN'T always say that, they would starve!!)
There were more categories, but those were my favorites. And I must say, I was actually relieved that she didn't write any swear words in the "parents always say" box. Not that I swear. Of course not. Never.
I keep thinking that I should really enjoy these years, because the teen years are coming up quick. And I highly doubt she'll be making me laugh as much then. Maybe hysterical (literally) laughter, but that's really not fun. So I plan on laughing at her NOW as much as I can. Without getting caught, that is.
Anyway, a couple of days ago Roxy came in from playing with her friends and flopped down on the couch. She announced that she was "SOOOOO hot" and decided to take a bath to cool off. I told her that sounded like a good idea, and told her she could even take a shower if she wanted, because that would cool her off, too. But she was pretty set on a bath. Fine, whatever. So I go back to watching whatever it was I was watching, and Roxy leaves. She goes into her bedroom, and then walks out in her bathing suit. (Now you know why it is so hard to catch the laugh BEFORE it escapes. She TOTALLY catches me off-guard!!) I think I choked on my laugh, and managed to ask her WHY she was wearing a bathing suit to take a bath. She looked at me (as only an exasperated 10-year-old can) and replied, "MOOOOM! It's not like I'm going to WASH myself or anything!" All-righty, then. As I tried to figure this one out, I said, "Ok, but you STILL can be naked in the tub, even if you AREN'T going to wash yourself." Again, I get the look like I am the biggest moron on the planet, and she says (a little slower, this time) "Yeah, but I'm not going to use SOAP..." At this point, I figured it was best to choose my battles, and off she went to take a bath in her bathing suit.
A couple minutes later, I heard my neighbor coming in from walking his dog. I opened the door to give Steeler some leftover steak (Steeler LOVES me) and my neighbor asked if I got my bathroom floor and toilet done. I told him yes, and it looked REALLY nice - but Roxy was taking a bath right now. He was like, "Oh, that's fine, I'll come look another time." And I kind of laughed and said, "Actually, she's in her bathing suit, so if you REALLY want to see it now..." I think the look my neighbor gave me at that point was priceless too. But he decided that he would wait anyway. (Don't worry, I wouldn't have REALLY let him in, bathing suit or not, when my kid was in the tub!!)
Then last night Roxy was putting away her homework, and I asked her if I could see it first. She had to fill in several boxes with her own responses, and I think some of them were priceless:
I wish:
I could buy the mall
I could get everything for free
I was on the hundred dollar bill
I could get on any ride at Great America without waiting in line
If I could, I would:
Go skydiving
Bungee jump
Fly (These three from the kid who won't even go on a roller coaster!!)
Get a million pets (Yes, I nixed THAT one!)
Live at the mall (I'm starting to see a pattern with the mall...)
I wonder:
How much money is in the whole world (Now, that's a tricky one...)
How many people are in the USA (Currently - 295,734,134. I looked it up - have to tell her)What is the biggest spider in the world called (The male goliath bird-eating spider - again, I looked it up)What it would be like if I were a cat (Well, if you were one of MY cats, you'd have a pretty cushy life!)
I don't like:
Spider webs
Mondays
Fish
Paper Cuts
Country Music
Ugly Colors (I like that Country Music comes AFTER paper cuts but BEFORE ugly colors...)
My parents always say:
Try your hardest (Awwww!)
Don't give up (Again, Awwww!)
Good job (You got it - Awwww!)
No TV (Wait a minute - I don't ALWAYS say that!!)
Feed the cats (Well, if I DIDN'T always say that, they would starve!!)
There were more categories, but those were my favorites. And I must say, I was actually relieved that she didn't write any swear words in the "parents always say" box. Not that I swear. Of course not. Never.
I keep thinking that I should really enjoy these years, because the teen years are coming up quick. And I highly doubt she'll be making me laugh as much then. Maybe hysterical (literally) laughter, but that's really not fun. So I plan on laughing at her NOW as much as I can. Without getting caught, that is.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Late Night Calls & Last Year
So I don’t want to jump to conclusions here or anything, but Friday night at 4:43 am I had another “Restricted” caller on my cell phone. But of course, no message. Could it be that someone who shall remain nameless is STILL that clueless?? I couldn’t say, but what I DO know is that those restricted calls are REALLY starting to bug me. So know what I did? I *67’ed MY phone and called a certain cell phone number myself about 5 or 6 times. And hung up. Twice he answered, the other times it was voice mail. But ALL the calls will come up as “restricted.” HA! See how YOU like it!! Ok, childish and immature? You bet. But VERY satisfying. Especially since I have no doubt whatsoever I would be the LAST person suspected of calling. But in the off chance that I get any more late night restricted callers, I have started leaving my cell on my nightstand so I can answer it. Because honestly, this is totally ridiculous. If the man HAS to talk to me again, so be it. And I will make SURE it will be the last time EVER. Excuse me, I’M the joke? Hmmmmmmm, NOT!
I did get a call last night from my one ex-who-is-now-a-friend that I mentioned previously. It was actually pretty funny, because that song “Don’tcha” I enjoy by the Pussycat Dolls is now my ringback tone. Which means whenever someone calls me, instead of a ring, they hear that song (or at least part of it). Well, Mike enjoyed the song and left me a funny message, and when I was about to call him back, Roxy commented, “Huh, when HE hears that song, he’s probably thinking, I USED to have a girlfriend like her, but then I DUMPED her.” Which made me laugh. And I told Mike, and he was all like, “Is she EVER going to let me off the hook for that??” To which I informed him that no, probably not, because even though we are obviously not couple material, you just don’t go around DUMPING Roxy’s mom. Period. So we start talking, and of course he wants to know the scoop on Mr. South Side, which I gladly fill him in on. (After telling him it would really be MUCH easier for him to just read the blog, but whatever.) Even though he laughed a lot, true to guy form, he started questioning exactly HOW I had changed in the ten or so years since dating HIM. (Of course, he was quick to add that he had no complaints in the past, but with Mr. SS’s desperation…)_ Translation: he wanted to know what he is missing. True to ME form, I explained it was a shame he would never find out for sure, but obviously I had vastly improved over the years. (See, it’s conversations like this that allow me and Mike to remain friends. There aren’t many guys I can joke around with like that and not feel wayyyyy uncomfortable.) Anyway, we chatted for a while and then I went to bed. With my cell phone right there. But no call – yet.
This morning I woke up in an unusually good mood – and when I looked at the clock and saw it was about 5:45 am, I realized that exactly one year ago at that exact time I was probably still in the hotel bar in Hawaii partying the night before my brother’s wedding. (It would’ve been 1:45 am Hawaii time.) That made me smile, because we had an AWESOME time in Hawaii. Then I found a t-shirt I bought while I was there that I was really upset about, because I LOVED it and it was wayyyy too tight, and GUESS WHAT? It FITS!! Which also made me happy, even though the thing that sucks is that in all the wedding pictures I look HUGE. Sure, I couldn’t lose the weight BEFORE the wedding, NOOOO! But I guess I shouldn’t complain, cause I’m doing good now. Digressing here… So I put on the cute t-shirt that I love and could never wear until now, and also the earrings and necklace I wore in Hawaii for the wedding, since I was in an “I-Wish-I-Was-Back-In-Hawaii” mood. And also hopefully I will remember to call my brother and sister-in-law to wish them happy anniversary.
I think I’ll keep this short and sweet for now, maybe if I am inspired later, I will write more. But I am a little distracted right now since I am trying to type this and correct interrogatories for work at the same time, so I believe it wouldn’t be condusive to either if I continue on. Back to work!
I did get a call last night from my one ex-who-is-now-a-friend that I mentioned previously. It was actually pretty funny, because that song “Don’tcha” I enjoy by the Pussycat Dolls is now my ringback tone. Which means whenever someone calls me, instead of a ring, they hear that song (or at least part of it). Well, Mike enjoyed the song and left me a funny message, and when I was about to call him back, Roxy commented, “Huh, when HE hears that song, he’s probably thinking, I USED to have a girlfriend like her, but then I DUMPED her.” Which made me laugh. And I told Mike, and he was all like, “Is she EVER going to let me off the hook for that??” To which I informed him that no, probably not, because even though we are obviously not couple material, you just don’t go around DUMPING Roxy’s mom. Period. So we start talking, and of course he wants to know the scoop on Mr. South Side, which I gladly fill him in on. (After telling him it would really be MUCH easier for him to just read the blog, but whatever.) Even though he laughed a lot, true to guy form, he started questioning exactly HOW I had changed in the ten or so years since dating HIM. (Of course, he was quick to add that he had no complaints in the past, but with Mr. SS’s desperation…)_ Translation: he wanted to know what he is missing. True to ME form, I explained it was a shame he would never find out for sure, but obviously I had vastly improved over the years. (See, it’s conversations like this that allow me and Mike to remain friends. There aren’t many guys I can joke around with like that and not feel wayyyyy uncomfortable.) Anyway, we chatted for a while and then I went to bed. With my cell phone right there. But no call – yet.
This morning I woke up in an unusually good mood – and when I looked at the clock and saw it was about 5:45 am, I realized that exactly one year ago at that exact time I was probably still in the hotel bar in Hawaii partying the night before my brother’s wedding. (It would’ve been 1:45 am Hawaii time.) That made me smile, because we had an AWESOME time in Hawaii. Then I found a t-shirt I bought while I was there that I was really upset about, because I LOVED it and it was wayyyy too tight, and GUESS WHAT? It FITS!! Which also made me happy, even though the thing that sucks is that in all the wedding pictures I look HUGE. Sure, I couldn’t lose the weight BEFORE the wedding, NOOOO! But I guess I shouldn’t complain, cause I’m doing good now. Digressing here… So I put on the cute t-shirt that I love and could never wear until now, and also the earrings and necklace I wore in Hawaii for the wedding, since I was in an “I-Wish-I-Was-Back-In-Hawaii” mood. And also hopefully I will remember to call my brother and sister-in-law to wish them happy anniversary.
I think I’ll keep this short and sweet for now, maybe if I am inspired later, I will write more. But I am a little distracted right now since I am trying to type this and correct interrogatories for work at the same time, so I believe it wouldn’t be condusive to either if I continue on. Back to work!
Friday, August 26, 2005
BUSTED!
So last night I was at the salon with Roxy while she got her hair cut, and I noticed that I had missed a call on my phone. And that there was a new voice mail. Nothing too unusual, so I’m trying to retrieve the message and can’t get a signal in the salon. Which means I have to walk outside. I excuse myself and assure Roxy I’ll be back, and exit the salon to listen to my message, figuring it is probably my mom or something wondering why I’m not at home. But when the message starts, it is not my mom at all – it is a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. IT IS MR. SOUTH SIDE! I braced myself for a long, rambling message, but instead he was very direct. This is what he said: “So, I finally found out why you don’t want to see me anymore. You think this is all a JOKE. Well, I think YOU’RE the joke!! No WONDER you’re still single!!” And he hung up.
I felt so bad, I sat down and teared up. Here was this poor guy, who meant well, and was nothing but nice to me, and now I had hurt his feelings. I mean, what kind of a monster was I anyway? To write all these horrible things about him, and laugh behind his back when all he wanted to do was make me happy.
Yeah, right. Ok, so I DID feel a slight twinge of guilt, but it passed in just about the time it took for my mouth to turn up into a smile and let a little laugh escape. But I DID wonder how he found out…
So I called SSC who said of COURSE she didn’t tell him about this blog, and I believe her, because after all, she gave him dinner. BUT – her husband apparently wasn’t as sensitive to his feelings. It seems he may have mentioned something while drinking, although he won’t admit it. The only thing is, I’m not even 100% sure he has read the blog, and to be honest, I can’t see that happening. First of all, because I don’t think SSC’s husband even knows the web address, second of all, because Mr. South Side doesn’t seem the computer type. I think the more likely scenario is that SSC’s husband got tired of listening to Mr. South Side lamenting his loss, and finally told him something like, “Look, dude, give it up! She doesn’t care, and she is playing your messages for her friends! She’s LAUGHING at you, man!” Yup, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. And if it’s not, and Mr. South Side happens to be reading this, the following is for you:
It certainly was never my intention to hurt your feelings or make you look like a fool. But you made it so very easy. Initially, I really DID like you, as you can see from my early blogs. But like I told you, not everyone in the world is compatible. It was never anything personal, we just didn’t fit. I TRIED to be nice about it, but you wouldn’t let it go. You obviously have issues with codependency, and I’ll admit I may have some issues of my own. But even so, I am comfortable being single, and don’t really feel the NEED to have someone in my life at all times. Something YOU obviously don’t understand. Hopefully, this whole experience can be something positive for you, and you will learn something from it. Like if a woman tells you it’s over, it may not be because of anything YOU did per se, it COULD be because that “click” isn’t there. And the more you try to beat a dead horse, the more pathetic you look. Have a little self-respect! There are plenty of people out there that you may be compatible with, you can’t force yourself on someone who’s not. And instead of being able to have fond memories of the good times, you wind up being bitter about everything. Not good. So, I wish you well in your life, and I hope you find your own Ms. Right. Just please don’t ever call me again.
Ok, now back to the REAL blog. So, I began to wonder if maybe I really WAS kind of a not-nice person for writing all this, but then I realized OF COURSE NOT. It’s his own fault for giving me such good stuff to write about. It’s not like I LIED about anything. So if he’s mad, maybe he should look in the mirror. And really think about it. Besides, I didn’t even use his real name. Or MY real name for that matter. Personally, I think the REAL reason he is upset is because he may be realizing how right I am, and that his behavior is NOT healthy. Anyway.
So, I’m pretty sure there will be no more Mr. South Side blogs. I can’t imagine him continuing to desire me at this point – or at least, I can’t imagine him ADMITTING it. Then again, stranger things have happened…
I felt so bad, I sat down and teared up. Here was this poor guy, who meant well, and was nothing but nice to me, and now I had hurt his feelings. I mean, what kind of a monster was I anyway? To write all these horrible things about him, and laugh behind his back when all he wanted to do was make me happy.
Yeah, right. Ok, so I DID feel a slight twinge of guilt, but it passed in just about the time it took for my mouth to turn up into a smile and let a little laugh escape. But I DID wonder how he found out…
So I called SSC who said of COURSE she didn’t tell him about this blog, and I believe her, because after all, she gave him dinner. BUT – her husband apparently wasn’t as sensitive to his feelings. It seems he may have mentioned something while drinking, although he won’t admit it. The only thing is, I’m not even 100% sure he has read the blog, and to be honest, I can’t see that happening. First of all, because I don’t think SSC’s husband even knows the web address, second of all, because Mr. South Side doesn’t seem the computer type. I think the more likely scenario is that SSC’s husband got tired of listening to Mr. South Side lamenting his loss, and finally told him something like, “Look, dude, give it up! She doesn’t care, and she is playing your messages for her friends! She’s LAUGHING at you, man!” Yup, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. And if it’s not, and Mr. South Side happens to be reading this, the following is for you:
It certainly was never my intention to hurt your feelings or make you look like a fool. But you made it so very easy. Initially, I really DID like you, as you can see from my early blogs. But like I told you, not everyone in the world is compatible. It was never anything personal, we just didn’t fit. I TRIED to be nice about it, but you wouldn’t let it go. You obviously have issues with codependency, and I’ll admit I may have some issues of my own. But even so, I am comfortable being single, and don’t really feel the NEED to have someone in my life at all times. Something YOU obviously don’t understand. Hopefully, this whole experience can be something positive for you, and you will learn something from it. Like if a woman tells you it’s over, it may not be because of anything YOU did per se, it COULD be because that “click” isn’t there. And the more you try to beat a dead horse, the more pathetic you look. Have a little self-respect! There are plenty of people out there that you may be compatible with, you can’t force yourself on someone who’s not. And instead of being able to have fond memories of the good times, you wind up being bitter about everything. Not good. So, I wish you well in your life, and I hope you find your own Ms. Right. Just please don’t ever call me again.
Ok, now back to the REAL blog. So, I began to wonder if maybe I really WAS kind of a not-nice person for writing all this, but then I realized OF COURSE NOT. It’s his own fault for giving me such good stuff to write about. It’s not like I LIED about anything. So if he’s mad, maybe he should look in the mirror. And really think about it. Besides, I didn’t even use his real name. Or MY real name for that matter. Personally, I think the REAL reason he is upset is because he may be realizing how right I am, and that his behavior is NOT healthy. Anyway.
So, I’m pretty sure there will be no more Mr. South Side blogs. I can’t imagine him continuing to desire me at this point – or at least, I can’t imagine him ADMITTING it. Then again, stranger things have happened…
Thursday, August 25, 2005
We Have Clearance, Clarence!!
Ok, I know on Monday I promised I would have something BIG on Thursday. And I didn’t forget. It’s just that things like what happened at lunch yesterday aren’t everyday occurrences, so I HAD to write about that. Of course, I also HAVE to write about this – and I finally have clearance. So…
GUESS WHAT? GUESS WHAT? GUESS WHAT?
I am going to be an AUNT! Yes, my favorite (and only) brother Bob and his lovely wife, my favorite (and only) sister-in-law are expecting at the end of February. And they are celebrating their first anniversary this coming Monday. So, happy anniversary – honeymoon’s over! Ha ha ha. Seriously, I am so very excited about this. They told us on Sunday, and it was KILLING me not being able to write about it. But out of respect for Bob and Sarah, and keeping in mind that a number of his fellow Speaker City-ites are faithful readers (at least, I HOPE they still are!), I kept my cyber-mouth shut. He told me on Monday that I had to wait at least two days, then I could tell whoever I wanted. I was nice and gave him three, and now I am alerting the whole world!!
MY BABY BROTHER IS GOING TO BE SOMEBODY’S DAD!!
Hmmm. That is kind of a scary thought. Not that he won’t be an awesome dad, because I know for sure he will be (just ask Roxy, she thinks he is the best uncle EVER), but just the fact that there is going to be someone in this world who was actually CREATED by my baby brother is kind of weird. A little Bob. A mini-me. I think back to when Bob was a kid, and I can only hope that Sarah’s genes are strong ones. JUST KIDDING, BOB!! You know I love you! (But for the kid’s sake…)
Seriously – this is a really exciting time for them, and me, and Roxy, and my parents, and Sarah’s family… and I really can’t wait to meet the little person. And I REALLY can’t wait to be the cool Aunt Dasi, just like my bro was always the cool Uncle Bob. And be able to spoil him or her to death, and then say, “Bye! See you next time!”
I am also especially looking forward to seeing Bob in “Daddy Action.” I don’t know if you know this or not yet, but my brother is a big sap. Yes, you heard me right. When it comes to his niece, at least. So I KNOW when there is an actual bundle of joy placed in his arms, he will be a goner for sure. And I think back to all the times I tried to show him pictures of my Roxy when she was a baby, and he would say, “She’s RIGHT THERE. Why do I need to see more pictures?” Or the times he would complain about watching videos of Roxy when she was pretty much just able to roll around on the floor – he didn’t quite understand the parental glee that comes with watching ANYTHING your child does on video. Oh, he’ll find out though! Yes he will!
I would also like to say for the record, JUST IN CASE they have a daughter, that he has told me many times in the past that his daughter will NEVER have a Barbie. Because he thinks Barbie is a horrible role model for young girls. Personally, I disagree, Barbie has had more careers than any real woman I know, and just because she enjoys spending time with Ken she’s not a bad person. I mean doll. Then again, her and Ken broke up, so maybe she does have more time for her numerous careers… But I digress. The point is – I can’t WAIT to see how long it takes before he is at Toys-R-Us buying a Barbie because his doe-eyed daughter asked nicely. Maybe all of ten seconds.
I know Bob and Sarah will be flooded with well-intentioned advice from now until their baby goes to college, so I think I’ll stick my two cents in here. This is my advice: wing it. No book, relative or child psychologist can tell you what is in your heart. Good people spawn good kids – and those two are the best. I have no doubt their child will be nothing short of amazing. Especially with me as an Aunt!
Love you guys!!
GUESS WHAT? GUESS WHAT? GUESS WHAT?
I am going to be an AUNT! Yes, my favorite (and only) brother Bob and his lovely wife, my favorite (and only) sister-in-law are expecting at the end of February. And they are celebrating their first anniversary this coming Monday. So, happy anniversary – honeymoon’s over! Ha ha ha. Seriously, I am so very excited about this. They told us on Sunday, and it was KILLING me not being able to write about it. But out of respect for Bob and Sarah, and keeping in mind that a number of his fellow Speaker City-ites are faithful readers (at least, I HOPE they still are!), I kept my cyber-mouth shut. He told me on Monday that I had to wait at least two days, then I could tell whoever I wanted. I was nice and gave him three, and now I am alerting the whole world!!
MY BABY BROTHER IS GOING TO BE SOMEBODY’S DAD!!
Hmmm. That is kind of a scary thought. Not that he won’t be an awesome dad, because I know for sure he will be (just ask Roxy, she thinks he is the best uncle EVER), but just the fact that there is going to be someone in this world who was actually CREATED by my baby brother is kind of weird. A little Bob. A mini-me. I think back to when Bob was a kid, and I can only hope that Sarah’s genes are strong ones. JUST KIDDING, BOB!! You know I love you! (But for the kid’s sake…)
Seriously – this is a really exciting time for them, and me, and Roxy, and my parents, and Sarah’s family… and I really can’t wait to meet the little person. And I REALLY can’t wait to be the cool Aunt Dasi, just like my bro was always the cool Uncle Bob. And be able to spoil him or her to death, and then say, “Bye! See you next time!”
I am also especially looking forward to seeing Bob in “Daddy Action.” I don’t know if you know this or not yet, but my brother is a big sap. Yes, you heard me right. When it comes to his niece, at least. So I KNOW when there is an actual bundle of joy placed in his arms, he will be a goner for sure. And I think back to all the times I tried to show him pictures of my Roxy when she was a baby, and he would say, “She’s RIGHT THERE. Why do I need to see more pictures?” Or the times he would complain about watching videos of Roxy when she was pretty much just able to roll around on the floor – he didn’t quite understand the parental glee that comes with watching ANYTHING your child does on video. Oh, he’ll find out though! Yes he will!
I would also like to say for the record, JUST IN CASE they have a daughter, that he has told me many times in the past that his daughter will NEVER have a Barbie. Because he thinks Barbie is a horrible role model for young girls. Personally, I disagree, Barbie has had more careers than any real woman I know, and just because she enjoys spending time with Ken she’s not a bad person. I mean doll. Then again, her and Ken broke up, so maybe she does have more time for her numerous careers… But I digress. The point is – I can’t WAIT to see how long it takes before he is at Toys-R-Us buying a Barbie because his doe-eyed daughter asked nicely. Maybe all of ten seconds.
I know Bob and Sarah will be flooded with well-intentioned advice from now until their baby goes to college, so I think I’ll stick my two cents in here. This is my advice: wing it. No book, relative or child psychologist can tell you what is in your heart. Good people spawn good kids – and those two are the best. I have no doubt their child will be nothing short of amazing. Especially with me as an Aunt!
Love you guys!!
Someone Saved My Life Tonight
Yesterday at lunchtime I was walking out of Quizno’s and was just about to get into my car to head back to work, when something caught my eye that made me grab my cell and call 911. There was a young woman standing by the passenger side of a car, and initially I thought she was yelling at and hitting a child in the back seat. I thought this because horrible as it is, it’s not that unusual, since people seem to catch that stuff on video all the time. Anyway, I didn’t even shut my car door, I just dialed and kind of jogged over to the girl, trying to see exactly what was going on. When I got closer, I realized that she wasn’t abusing a child, she was trying to wake up her friend. She was shaking her and yelling at her, and slapping her face. I told the 911 operator that there was a girl who was not conscious and that we needed an ambulance ASAP. I gave the location, and as I was talking a couple of young guys in suits came up to see if they could help.
One of the guys checked her breathing, and her pulse. He said both were there, but not very strong. I relayed this to the operator, and she told me to make sure she was face up and her airway wasn’t blocked. Then she asked me to find out from her friend what she took. Because this wasn’t something that had “just happened” – the girl had obviously OD’ed. This wasn’t the first time in my life I had seen something like this, but it WAS the first time I had seen it as a sober person. And it chilled me to the bone. Another one of those moments that hits you like a ton of bricks – ten years ago, I could’ve been that girl. It was all very surreal, but it was making me sick to my stomach too. One of the guys had reached in the unconscious girl’s jeans pocket (which I could’ve told him he SHOULDN’T do) and an empty half pill capsule came flying out. When her friend saw this, she started grabbing stuff from around the console of the car and shoving it in her purse. I was still on the phone with the operator, and started asking the girl, “What did she take? We NEED to know what she took!”
The girl looked at me like a wild animal and started shaking her head. “We don’t DO drugs!! I don’t know what you mean!! I left her for TWO minutes and when I came back, she was LIKE this!” My heart sank. Even though I wasn’t surprised at her denial, I did know enough to read the telltale signs of addiction. And I still had the operator on the phone, who now wanted me to get the girl on the phone. When I tried to tell the girl the operator needed to talk to her, she panicked. “NO! I’m not talking to ANYONE! I can just get her to the hospital and call my mom, we’ll be fine!” I told the operator that she wouldn’t talk, that her friend had OD’ed and she was high, and obviously was too scared to get involved with the authorities. At this point, the girl’s breathing had become more irregular, and I could see from her chest movement and the hollow of her neck that she was also having a hard time, almost gasping. The guys kept checking on the unconscious girl, and I also motioned to them to watch her friend. She was starting to get in the driver’s side of the car, apparently thinking she could just go to the hospital herself. One of them walked over to her and tried calming her down, but she was way too strung out. The operator asked me to get the license plate number of the car, just in case, which I did. Thankfully, she did finally move away from the car, and it was then that I saw the cavalry arriving.
I told the operator that help was here, and she let me hang up as an ambulance, fire truck and three cook county sheriff’s cars pulled into the lot. One of the paramedics approached the girl, and yelled out, “Get a gurney and a bag FAST! She’s not breathing!” It was amazing how those people move, and within seconds they had put her on a respirator and loaded her into the ambulance. In the meantime, the police were approaching her friend, along with another paramedic. She kept repeating her mantra over and over: “We don’t DO drugs! I don’t KNOW what happened!” One of the sheriffs came to talk to myself and the two guys, and we told him exactly what we saw. Everything from the girl grabbing things from the console to the capsule that fell out of the other girl’s jeans. We described the friend’s behavior, and blatantly told him it was obviously drugs. (Which, of course, he already knew.) He took both purses out of the car, and when he went through them, he found two syringes, several empty clear capsules, the bottom of an aluminum can (used for prepping a fix), and a small cup of water in the front cupholder. He approached the girl with his findings, and asked her again, “What did she take? What did YOU take?” Now this is the part that really got to me. This girl, this STRUNG OUT, HEROIN ADDICTED idiot, looked me straight in the eye and cried, “WHY DID YOU CALL 911?? WE WERE FINE!! WE DIDN’T NEED YOU!!”
What I WANTED to do was go up to this girl and smack her in the head and tell her what a fuckup she was. That if I HADN’T called, she would have had to live with her friend’s death on her conscience forever. That life is WAY too precious to piss away while getting high. That I KNEW how she felt, because I had been there, done that, and it SUCKED. What I DID do, though, was shake my head incredulously and say, “Because your friend was going to die. That’s why.”
I had to give all my personal information and a statement to the officers on the scene, as did the two guys. We asked how the unconscious girl was, and apparently she was starting to come to a little bit, and it looked like she was going to be ok. But they had almost lost her, and said it was a good thing I had called 911 when I did. All it would’ve taken was a few more seconds for her to have become a statistic. I watched the other girl seemingly through a haze, watched her trying to explain that maybe her friend USED to do drugs, but as far as SHE knew, she didn’t anymore. That she had just gone to get food across the way, and when she came back, she was unconscious. That they both had good lives, families, boyfriends, jobs. That she didn’t DO drugs. And didn’t KNOW where the paraphernalia came from, or how it got in her purse. I watched her in her beauty school smock pulling a mannequin head out of the back seat of the car, playing with the hair on the plastic head while she retreated into a drug-induced fog. Mumbling that everyone was being so MEAN to her, and she didn’t even DO anything.
No, honey, you didn’t. And that was only PART of the problem.
It really bothered me. The whole situation. It made me want to scream and cry and shake my fist at the world. It made me want to go home and hug my Roxy and pray that she never feels she has to turn to drugs to deal with life. Or thinks that it’s ok to “party” as long as you keep your life as normal as possible otherwise. Because it’s NOT ok. It is SO not ok. And as hard as I try to forget what I did in the past, something like this makes me realize it is important to REMEMBER. To never forget where I was or what I did. And how far I have come. And to be grateful for every day of the past ten years, and for all the days to come. It made me realize that although my experiences are over, there are new people and new drugs and new issues that will always be there. It made me want to DO something, to make a difference.
Yesterday I DID make a difference. I am sure that of those two girls, one is still lying in a hospital bed and one is probably either in a holding cell or back with mom and dad after getting bailed OUT of a holding cell, and I am equally sure that both of them are remembering what happened and are terrified about the consequences they are about to face. Are they terrified enough to get help and get their lives back? Who knows? But I think I may start looking into volunteer possibilities again to try to make a bigger difference. Maybe, in a way, these girls saved MY life, too.
“Why did you call 911” indeed.
One of the guys checked her breathing, and her pulse. He said both were there, but not very strong. I relayed this to the operator, and she told me to make sure she was face up and her airway wasn’t blocked. Then she asked me to find out from her friend what she took. Because this wasn’t something that had “just happened” – the girl had obviously OD’ed. This wasn’t the first time in my life I had seen something like this, but it WAS the first time I had seen it as a sober person. And it chilled me to the bone. Another one of those moments that hits you like a ton of bricks – ten years ago, I could’ve been that girl. It was all very surreal, but it was making me sick to my stomach too. One of the guys had reached in the unconscious girl’s jeans pocket (which I could’ve told him he SHOULDN’T do) and an empty half pill capsule came flying out. When her friend saw this, she started grabbing stuff from around the console of the car and shoving it in her purse. I was still on the phone with the operator, and started asking the girl, “What did she take? We NEED to know what she took!”
The girl looked at me like a wild animal and started shaking her head. “We don’t DO drugs!! I don’t know what you mean!! I left her for TWO minutes and when I came back, she was LIKE this!” My heart sank. Even though I wasn’t surprised at her denial, I did know enough to read the telltale signs of addiction. And I still had the operator on the phone, who now wanted me to get the girl on the phone. When I tried to tell the girl the operator needed to talk to her, she panicked. “NO! I’m not talking to ANYONE! I can just get her to the hospital and call my mom, we’ll be fine!” I told the operator that she wouldn’t talk, that her friend had OD’ed and she was high, and obviously was too scared to get involved with the authorities. At this point, the girl’s breathing had become more irregular, and I could see from her chest movement and the hollow of her neck that she was also having a hard time, almost gasping. The guys kept checking on the unconscious girl, and I also motioned to them to watch her friend. She was starting to get in the driver’s side of the car, apparently thinking she could just go to the hospital herself. One of them walked over to her and tried calming her down, but she was way too strung out. The operator asked me to get the license plate number of the car, just in case, which I did. Thankfully, she did finally move away from the car, and it was then that I saw the cavalry arriving.
I told the operator that help was here, and she let me hang up as an ambulance, fire truck and three cook county sheriff’s cars pulled into the lot. One of the paramedics approached the girl, and yelled out, “Get a gurney and a bag FAST! She’s not breathing!” It was amazing how those people move, and within seconds they had put her on a respirator and loaded her into the ambulance. In the meantime, the police were approaching her friend, along with another paramedic. She kept repeating her mantra over and over: “We don’t DO drugs! I don’t KNOW what happened!” One of the sheriffs came to talk to myself and the two guys, and we told him exactly what we saw. Everything from the girl grabbing things from the console to the capsule that fell out of the other girl’s jeans. We described the friend’s behavior, and blatantly told him it was obviously drugs. (Which, of course, he already knew.) He took both purses out of the car, and when he went through them, he found two syringes, several empty clear capsules, the bottom of an aluminum can (used for prepping a fix), and a small cup of water in the front cupholder. He approached the girl with his findings, and asked her again, “What did she take? What did YOU take?” Now this is the part that really got to me. This girl, this STRUNG OUT, HEROIN ADDICTED idiot, looked me straight in the eye and cried, “WHY DID YOU CALL 911?? WE WERE FINE!! WE DIDN’T NEED YOU!!”
What I WANTED to do was go up to this girl and smack her in the head and tell her what a fuckup she was. That if I HADN’T called, she would have had to live with her friend’s death on her conscience forever. That life is WAY too precious to piss away while getting high. That I KNEW how she felt, because I had been there, done that, and it SUCKED. What I DID do, though, was shake my head incredulously and say, “Because your friend was going to die. That’s why.”
I had to give all my personal information and a statement to the officers on the scene, as did the two guys. We asked how the unconscious girl was, and apparently she was starting to come to a little bit, and it looked like she was going to be ok. But they had almost lost her, and said it was a good thing I had called 911 when I did. All it would’ve taken was a few more seconds for her to have become a statistic. I watched the other girl seemingly through a haze, watched her trying to explain that maybe her friend USED to do drugs, but as far as SHE knew, she didn’t anymore. That she had just gone to get food across the way, and when she came back, she was unconscious. That they both had good lives, families, boyfriends, jobs. That she didn’t DO drugs. And didn’t KNOW where the paraphernalia came from, or how it got in her purse. I watched her in her beauty school smock pulling a mannequin head out of the back seat of the car, playing with the hair on the plastic head while she retreated into a drug-induced fog. Mumbling that everyone was being so MEAN to her, and she didn’t even DO anything.
No, honey, you didn’t. And that was only PART of the problem.
It really bothered me. The whole situation. It made me want to scream and cry and shake my fist at the world. It made me want to go home and hug my Roxy and pray that she never feels she has to turn to drugs to deal with life. Or thinks that it’s ok to “party” as long as you keep your life as normal as possible otherwise. Because it’s NOT ok. It is SO not ok. And as hard as I try to forget what I did in the past, something like this makes me realize it is important to REMEMBER. To never forget where I was or what I did. And how far I have come. And to be grateful for every day of the past ten years, and for all the days to come. It made me realize that although my experiences are over, there are new people and new drugs and new issues that will always be there. It made me want to DO something, to make a difference.
Yesterday I DID make a difference. I am sure that of those two girls, one is still lying in a hospital bed and one is probably either in a holding cell or back with mom and dad after getting bailed OUT of a holding cell, and I am equally sure that both of them are remembering what happened and are terrified about the consequences they are about to face. Are they terrified enough to get help and get their lives back? Who knows? But I think I may start looking into volunteer possibilities again to try to make a bigger difference. Maybe, in a way, these girls saved MY life, too.
“Why did you call 911” indeed.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Latchkey Kids
So yesterday was Roxy’s first day of school, AND the first day EVER she took the bus home herself, thus officially becoming a latchkey kid. After going over the house rules several times, I felt pretty secure that she was ready for her first real taste of independence. You may recall that she wasn’t too keen on going to fifth grade, mostly because none of her friends are in her class this year. (Being the exemplary mom that I am, I told her that this will be a good thing, since she will have less distractions and learn more. She didn’t buy it.) But on her first morning, she actually seemed a little excited. She had her brand new backpack all loaded up with the school supplies she bought herself at Staples (apparently the ones I ordered from the PTA weren’t “cool” enough), and her housekeys, which consisted of about 20 keychains and 2 actual keys. I kept drilling rule number one into her head, which was “call mom IMMEDIATELY when you get home,” and judging by the eye-rolling and heavy sighs, it was sufficiently drilled. I dropped her off at the bus stop and spent the whole day at work hoping to God that everything was going ok with her at school, and hoping even more that she made it home afterwards.
I kept finding myself looking up at the clock, and wondering how her day was going. When it finally reached 3:00, I wondered if she found the right bus. I started second-guessing my decision to let her go home by herself, even though the neighbor was always home by 4:00, she had all the phone numbers she would need, and honestly, she was a pretty responsible kid. When the phone rang at 3:40 and the receptionist told me it was my daughter, I felt a HUGE weight lift off my chest. “So, you made it home?” My poor daughter, apparently in distress, replied, “Yes, but mom? The toilet really looks fine, and I don’t think it is broken? Actually, I THINK it is still the OLD toilet, but it looks FINE… It is back in the bathroom and mom? I REALLY have to go, so do you think that maybe it is ok?” At this point, I cracked up. You see, the floor guy was coming to fix the floor this week (actually, today), and I had told Roxy that on WEDNESDAY she may want to make sure she goes to the bathroom before she gets home, since our new toilet may not be installed yet. Apparently she got mixed up, and thought the whole toilet thing was going on at that moment. She was VERRRY relieved (no pun intended), and promised to call right back as soon as she (ahem) took care of business.
So I hung up, and true to her word, she called back within two minutes. When I asked her how her first day was, I got the obligatory heavy sigh, and then she proceeded to tell me how AWFUL it was. Apparently the ONLY time she could see her friends was for, like, TEN minutes during recess, she didn’t have enough time to eat all of her lunch (but WAS allowed to eat whenever she wanted throughout the class, as long as it was subtly), and she pretty much didn’t like anyone in her class. I asked how the teacher was, and she did admit that the teacher seemed nice. (But from her tone, I could tell she wasn’t even too sure about that yet.) I asked her if she had homework (no), then I asked what they did all day. Can you guess the answer? You got it – NOTHING. Apparently the whole day at school everyone just sat there. Or at least, that’s what Roxy wants me to think.
While I tried to pry a little more info out of her, she was reading her “house rules” list out loud and pretty much ignoring me. This was what I heard: “Empty lunchbox. Ok. Done that. Feed the cats. (SIGH) Cats, do you need food? You know, I SHOULD be getting paid for this…” Finally, enough was enough and she told me that everything was FINE and I could hang up now. Which I did, satisfied that although she sounded really put out by my questions, she would be fine for the hour and a half before I got home.
Hard to believe how fast these kids grow up nowadays. But they are still entertaining, at least.
And on a side note, because I KNOW you are curious, a few tidbits of information unrelated to school OR latchkey kids:
*** Mr. South Side is apparently strategically planning his speech as to why we need to be together, since I haven’t heard from him yet. And based on the fact that SSC TOLD him to call me, I have no doubt that he will when he feels confident enough with his speech. Which, of course, I will relentlessly shoot down.
*** My bathroom floor is finished, my new toilet is installed, and it actually cost considerably less than I had “guesstimated.” Which is a good thing. And it is also good that I decided to tear up the old tiles last week, because apparently the guy who fixed my floor said that the toilet had been leaking like FOREVER and they almost weren’t able to save the floorboards. But they did. Which is also good, because I think what they were implying is that my floor (which is also my neighbor’s ceiling) could’ve caved in at any given second. And THAT would have been verrrrrry bad.
That’s all for now. Oh, and to Amber – thanks for the link! If anyone reading today found me through her – welcome! And I hope I can keep you as entertained as she seems to be. (Although I’m not quite sure if she is just easily amused or if my life is really that pathetically funny. Whatever, I guess.)
I kept finding myself looking up at the clock, and wondering how her day was going. When it finally reached 3:00, I wondered if she found the right bus. I started second-guessing my decision to let her go home by herself, even though the neighbor was always home by 4:00, she had all the phone numbers she would need, and honestly, she was a pretty responsible kid. When the phone rang at 3:40 and the receptionist told me it was my daughter, I felt a HUGE weight lift off my chest. “So, you made it home?” My poor daughter, apparently in distress, replied, “Yes, but mom? The toilet really looks fine, and I don’t think it is broken? Actually, I THINK it is still the OLD toilet, but it looks FINE… It is back in the bathroom and mom? I REALLY have to go, so do you think that maybe it is ok?” At this point, I cracked up. You see, the floor guy was coming to fix the floor this week (actually, today), and I had told Roxy that on WEDNESDAY she may want to make sure she goes to the bathroom before she gets home, since our new toilet may not be installed yet. Apparently she got mixed up, and thought the whole toilet thing was going on at that moment. She was VERRRY relieved (no pun intended), and promised to call right back as soon as she (ahem) took care of business.
So I hung up, and true to her word, she called back within two minutes. When I asked her how her first day was, I got the obligatory heavy sigh, and then she proceeded to tell me how AWFUL it was. Apparently the ONLY time she could see her friends was for, like, TEN minutes during recess, she didn’t have enough time to eat all of her lunch (but WAS allowed to eat whenever she wanted throughout the class, as long as it was subtly), and she pretty much didn’t like anyone in her class. I asked how the teacher was, and she did admit that the teacher seemed nice. (But from her tone, I could tell she wasn’t even too sure about that yet.) I asked her if she had homework (no), then I asked what they did all day. Can you guess the answer? You got it – NOTHING. Apparently the whole day at school everyone just sat there. Or at least, that’s what Roxy wants me to think.
While I tried to pry a little more info out of her, she was reading her “house rules” list out loud and pretty much ignoring me. This was what I heard: “Empty lunchbox. Ok. Done that. Feed the cats. (SIGH) Cats, do you need food? You know, I SHOULD be getting paid for this…” Finally, enough was enough and she told me that everything was FINE and I could hang up now. Which I did, satisfied that although she sounded really put out by my questions, she would be fine for the hour and a half before I got home.
Hard to believe how fast these kids grow up nowadays. But they are still entertaining, at least.
And on a side note, because I KNOW you are curious, a few tidbits of information unrelated to school OR latchkey kids:
*** Mr. South Side is apparently strategically planning his speech as to why we need to be together, since I haven’t heard from him yet. And based on the fact that SSC TOLD him to call me, I have no doubt that he will when he feels confident enough with his speech. Which, of course, I will relentlessly shoot down.
*** My bathroom floor is finished, my new toilet is installed, and it actually cost considerably less than I had “guesstimated.” Which is a good thing. And it is also good that I decided to tear up the old tiles last week, because apparently the guy who fixed my floor said that the toilet had been leaking like FOREVER and they almost weren’t able to save the floorboards. But they did. Which is also good, because I think what they were implying is that my floor (which is also my neighbor’s ceiling) could’ve caved in at any given second. And THAT would have been verrrrrry bad.
That’s all for now. Oh, and to Amber – thanks for the link! If anyone reading today found me through her – welcome! And I hope I can keep you as entertained as she seems to be. (Although I’m not quite sure if she is just easily amused or if my life is really that pathetically funny. Whatever, I guess.)
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
My Cousin the B****
Don’t worry, she already knows I am doing this. Because I told her last night. Yes, I flat out told her, “I am going to write my blog about you tomorrow, and I am going to call it ‘My Cousin the B****.’” Why, you ask? Well, allow me to enlighten you.
The cousin I am referring to (just in case any other of my gazillion cousins are reading this and thinking “what did I do??”) is one of my south side cousins. (Oh, I KNOW you can see where this is going, you perceptive reader, you!) As a matter of fact, she is the infamous south side cousin who lead me to believe that Mr. South Side was not only a wonderful person, but not the LEAST bit psychotic. Granted, she didn’t really know him all that well, she really just knew him in passing through his aunt, but STILL. Ok, so no biggie. Actually, I have been keeping her updated on everything since day one anyway, and obviously harbor no ill will toward her for her poor people reading skills. Because, as we all know, it really all comes down to the fact that I am OBVIOUSLY sooooo skilled and such a wonderful person that ANY man would immediately fall under my spell. For all I know, Mr. South Side was just as normal as the next guy until he hooked up with me. (All right, probably not, but just for the sake of argument…) Bottom line is, SS Cousin had no way of knowing how this would all turn out. And she has been appropriately sympathetic to my plight, and just as appropriately freaked out by Mr. South Side’s behavior.
Which is why when she called me last night, I was totally unprepared for what came next.
I had just come home from taking Roxy and her friend shopping for school clothes and a backpack (Yes, the night before school started. So I’m a procrastinator, shoot me) when the phone rang. It was about 9:30 and kind of an odd hour for someone to be calling me, but when I saw SSC’s name on the caller id, I was like “Oh, hey!” and cheerily answered the phone. Her response to my cheery “hello”? “Guess who just left MY house?”
No. No no no no NO!!! But OH YES, Mr. South Side had gone to her house to pour out his woes and try to get some answers. Answers, as we all know, that I already GAVE him several times over. But my bleeding-heart SSC invited him in and listened. Between laughs (yes, she finds this FUNNY!!) she told me how he doesn’t understand WHY this happened. He told her that the last time he talked to me, I hung up on him, and it hurt him terribly. When she asked him when that was (even though she knew damn well when it was, because I TOLD her about it myself) and he told her it was around his birthday, a month or so ago, she said she had a really hard time keeping a straight face. Like me (and every other NORMAL person out there) she said she wanted to say, “Look, if someone HANGS UP on you and then IGNORES you for a month after that, chances are good it’s DONE!” But she said she just couldn’t do it, because he looked so lost and sad. (Boo F***ing Hoo. I don’t care. Stupid bleeding heart SSC!!!)
She said he didn’t understand what I wanted, because he was SO NICE to me. Apparently he implied that maybe he should’ve been more like (and I quote) “Tommy Lee.” Ok, question? Does that mean he thinks that maybe he should’ve tried BEATING me or something?? Because let me tell you this – he would be SO DEAD. But in all honesty, at least Tommy Lee would’ve been more EXCITING, and maybe even talked some (when he wasn’t shooting heroin or making sex tapes).
SSC told me all she could do was act like she had no idea what was going on. Why? I don’t know. According to her, he is absolutely miserable. I told her that I am sure he will get over it, just like he got over his 10 and 8 year relationships, and she told me that in fact, he had told her that even his last relationship of ten years didn’t hurt as much as this. (Violins, anyone?) Then, just for effect, he did the old fist-to-the-chest move and told her “She really got me right here.”
SSC even told him that since she knows me so well, she also knows that I am a very independent person, and that due to my past, I had a hard time trusting people (which is true, but has nothing to do with my feelings (or lack thereof) for Mr. South Side). He said he knew about my past (also true, but irrelevant) and that he really thinks we have a good connection (??). He begged her to PLEASE call me and find out what is going on. And he gave her his number so she can “keep him informed.” He said he has been REALLY worried because he has no idea how I am or what I am doing or if I am alive or dead (duh – you’re not SUPPOSED to, moron) and had no idea who to talk to to find out these things. Which, apparently, is where SSC comes in. He said at the very least, he wants to be my FRIEND, so we can just hang out (ha! If only he knew the old innuendo of “hanging out!”) since we get together so well (AGAIN - ??).
Good cousin that she is, SSC told him she didn’t feel right asking me those things for him (what is this – high school??), but here is where the B**** part comes in. INSTEAD, she told him that maybe HE should call me and try to work things out. Then she gave him some mostaccoli and sent him on his way. (Seriously – she gave the psycho DINNER. Everyone knows you never give food to stray cats OR psychos, because they’ll KEEP COMING BACK!!)
In total, Mr. South Side spent about an HOUR at SSC’s house lamenting his loss, then he had to leave for work. (It seems either he never really quit his bouncing job in the first place, or he was able to get it back.) And now she was laughing her ass off on the phone to me while I called her every unsavory name I could think of. She is totally amazed at his melancholy, and kept asking me “What did you DO to that poor boy??” Again, I can’t help it if I am the modern-day Venus or Aphrodite or what-have-you, but I gotta say, this shit is getting OLD. How come I never had these problems when I was younger and REALLY wanted a boyfriend?? Oh, that’s right, with age comes experience, I guess. (So to all they guys who dumped me in the past –HA!! You’ll never know what you’re missing!!)
So here I am at work today, wondering exactly how long before I hear those tubular bells again. But this time, when I do, I think I’ll answer. I’ll answer and be the meanest, cruelest person I can be. And if that doesn’t work, I’m hiring a hitman.
The cousin I am referring to (just in case any other of my gazillion cousins are reading this and thinking “what did I do??”) is one of my south side cousins. (Oh, I KNOW you can see where this is going, you perceptive reader, you!) As a matter of fact, she is the infamous south side cousin who lead me to believe that Mr. South Side was not only a wonderful person, but not the LEAST bit psychotic. Granted, she didn’t really know him all that well, she really just knew him in passing through his aunt, but STILL. Ok, so no biggie. Actually, I have been keeping her updated on everything since day one anyway, and obviously harbor no ill will toward her for her poor people reading skills. Because, as we all know, it really all comes down to the fact that I am OBVIOUSLY sooooo skilled and such a wonderful person that ANY man would immediately fall under my spell. For all I know, Mr. South Side was just as normal as the next guy until he hooked up with me. (All right, probably not, but just for the sake of argument…) Bottom line is, SS Cousin had no way of knowing how this would all turn out. And she has been appropriately sympathetic to my plight, and just as appropriately freaked out by Mr. South Side’s behavior.
Which is why when she called me last night, I was totally unprepared for what came next.
I had just come home from taking Roxy and her friend shopping for school clothes and a backpack (Yes, the night before school started. So I’m a procrastinator, shoot me) when the phone rang. It was about 9:30 and kind of an odd hour for someone to be calling me, but when I saw SSC’s name on the caller id, I was like “Oh, hey!” and cheerily answered the phone. Her response to my cheery “hello”? “Guess who just left MY house?”
No. No no no no NO!!! But OH YES, Mr. South Side had gone to her house to pour out his woes and try to get some answers. Answers, as we all know, that I already GAVE him several times over. But my bleeding-heart SSC invited him in and listened. Between laughs (yes, she finds this FUNNY!!) she told me how he doesn’t understand WHY this happened. He told her that the last time he talked to me, I hung up on him, and it hurt him terribly. When she asked him when that was (even though she knew damn well when it was, because I TOLD her about it myself) and he told her it was around his birthday, a month or so ago, she said she had a really hard time keeping a straight face. Like me (and every other NORMAL person out there) she said she wanted to say, “Look, if someone HANGS UP on you and then IGNORES you for a month after that, chances are good it’s DONE!” But she said she just couldn’t do it, because he looked so lost and sad. (Boo F***ing Hoo. I don’t care. Stupid bleeding heart SSC!!!)
She said he didn’t understand what I wanted, because he was SO NICE to me. Apparently he implied that maybe he should’ve been more like (and I quote) “Tommy Lee.” Ok, question? Does that mean he thinks that maybe he should’ve tried BEATING me or something?? Because let me tell you this – he would be SO DEAD. But in all honesty, at least Tommy Lee would’ve been more EXCITING, and maybe even talked some (when he wasn’t shooting heroin or making sex tapes).
SSC told me all she could do was act like she had no idea what was going on. Why? I don’t know. According to her, he is absolutely miserable. I told her that I am sure he will get over it, just like he got over his 10 and 8 year relationships, and she told me that in fact, he had told her that even his last relationship of ten years didn’t hurt as much as this. (Violins, anyone?) Then, just for effect, he did the old fist-to-the-chest move and told her “She really got me right here.”
SSC even told him that since she knows me so well, she also knows that I am a very independent person, and that due to my past, I had a hard time trusting people (which is true, but has nothing to do with my feelings (or lack thereof) for Mr. South Side). He said he knew about my past (also true, but irrelevant) and that he really thinks we have a good connection (??). He begged her to PLEASE call me and find out what is going on. And he gave her his number so she can “keep him informed.” He said he has been REALLY worried because he has no idea how I am or what I am doing or if I am alive or dead (duh – you’re not SUPPOSED to, moron) and had no idea who to talk to to find out these things. Which, apparently, is where SSC comes in. He said at the very least, he wants to be my FRIEND, so we can just hang out (ha! If only he knew the old innuendo of “hanging out!”) since we get together so well (AGAIN - ??).
Good cousin that she is, SSC told him she didn’t feel right asking me those things for him (what is this – high school??), but here is where the B**** part comes in. INSTEAD, she told him that maybe HE should call me and try to work things out. Then she gave him some mostaccoli and sent him on his way. (Seriously – she gave the psycho DINNER. Everyone knows you never give food to stray cats OR psychos, because they’ll KEEP COMING BACK!!)
In total, Mr. South Side spent about an HOUR at SSC’s house lamenting his loss, then he had to leave for work. (It seems either he never really quit his bouncing job in the first place, or he was able to get it back.) And now she was laughing her ass off on the phone to me while I called her every unsavory name I could think of. She is totally amazed at his melancholy, and kept asking me “What did you DO to that poor boy??” Again, I can’t help it if I am the modern-day Venus or Aphrodite or what-have-you, but I gotta say, this shit is getting OLD. How come I never had these problems when I was younger and REALLY wanted a boyfriend?? Oh, that’s right, with age comes experience, I guess. (So to all they guys who dumped me in the past –HA!! You’ll never know what you’re missing!!)
So here I am at work today, wondering exactly how long before I hear those tubular bells again. But this time, when I do, I think I’ll answer. I’ll answer and be the meanest, cruelest person I can be. And if that doesn’t work, I’m hiring a hitman.
Monday, August 22, 2005
RESTRICTED - on a Couple Levels
I REALLY REALLY want to write about something today, but I can’t. Which really sucks. The reason that I can’t is because it involves something that is someone else’s news, and until I get clearance from this person, I don’t feel it is proper for me to blog about it yet. AND THAT PERSON IS NOT ANSWERING THEIR PHONE. So I guess I will have to wait, even though it is KILLING me!! Thus, I will instead proceed with my original plan to discuss my weekend, which isn’t nearly as cool as what I WANTED to write. Oh, well.
Anyway, the necromancer was pretty cool. Not exactly what I expected, but cool nonetheless. He told some neat stories about Chicago (most of which I knew already, but a couple I didn’t) and performed some creepy tricks. And at the end of his “show,” one of the audience members made contact with a girl who died six years ago. I kid you not. It was weird. (I almost didn’t make the show to begin with, because as I said, I had a hair appointment in the afternoon. And it took FOUR HOURS AND SEVENTEEN MINUTES to do my damn hair. Yes, folks, over half of a legal workday. I am seriously considering chopping it all off. But I must admit, it DOES look pretty sweet. Hell, it better. It cost enough. So back to Excalibur.) After the show, my cousin and I hung out in this cool lounge area on a REALLY comfy couch and just talked. Or at least TRIED to talk. It was really hard, because ever two minutes a different girl holding a tray of shots would try to sell us one. I think we both said “no, thank you,” at least fifty times in the hour or so we sat talking. It was a pretty uneventful night, but I did get a laugh when my cousin commented that “I really have a problem with strange girls offering me blow jobs.” (Of course, the shot girls were referring to the shots – but my cousin was right, it is kind of icky.)
Saturday night was my night out with mom, her friend Pat, and Walt Willey. For those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Willey, he is Jackson Montgomery on All My Children. And he is awesome. He was at Zanies Comedy Club, and we went for a meet and greet and then his act. He is a really nice guy, and funnier than hell. Nothing at all like his character, who is verrrrry conservative and reserved and professional. The actor is raunchy and outrageous and hysterical. One of the tamer bits he did was one about Target. He said he hates Target because he feels like they are putting K-Mart out of business, and he really enjoys the blue-light specials. And also, he said he really doesn’t feel safe in Target anyway. According to him, in these troubled times of terrorists, do you REALLY want to shop in a store that has a big bullseye on the front? And he’s right. Think about it, if you get a confused terrorist looking around with his missle launcher for something to shoot, what better than a HUGE BULLSEYE?? Adios, Target!! Scary thought, actually. So I really enjoyed Saturday night.
Sunday I had to pick up Roxy (who DID miss me after all!) and then drive back home again. Traffic sucked coming back into Chicago, and my car (that is totally not used to driving over 400 miles in a stretch) did not handle it well. Thankfully, we made it home and the car seems fine after a couple quarts of oil and a good night’s sleep. I can’t tell you what happened in between getting back to Chicago and being at work this morning, because that is what I WANTED to write about and can’t. (GOD!! I’M DYING HERE!!!)
Oh, one thing I CAN tell you is that for the past four days I have received about six “Restricted” calls on my cell and three on my home line. The creepy thing is that the calls on my home line went into voice mail before the person hung up, and all you hear is that white noise in the background for about a full minute. And while I was in Michigan on Sunday, I answered one of the “Restricted” calls on my cell, and said “hello” like four times before I heard the caller hang up. Now, I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?? (Insert “Exorcist” theme here)
Well, hopefully I’ll get clearance soon, and will have some REALLY good stuff for you. And I guess it’s also almost time for more “Beginning of the End.” But for now – ciao. Satan is back, and I have to do some REAL work.
Anyway, the necromancer was pretty cool. Not exactly what I expected, but cool nonetheless. He told some neat stories about Chicago (most of which I knew already, but a couple I didn’t) and performed some creepy tricks. And at the end of his “show,” one of the audience members made contact with a girl who died six years ago. I kid you not. It was weird. (I almost didn’t make the show to begin with, because as I said, I had a hair appointment in the afternoon. And it took FOUR HOURS AND SEVENTEEN MINUTES to do my damn hair. Yes, folks, over half of a legal workday. I am seriously considering chopping it all off. But I must admit, it DOES look pretty sweet. Hell, it better. It cost enough. So back to Excalibur.) After the show, my cousin and I hung out in this cool lounge area on a REALLY comfy couch and just talked. Or at least TRIED to talk. It was really hard, because ever two minutes a different girl holding a tray of shots would try to sell us one. I think we both said “no, thank you,” at least fifty times in the hour or so we sat talking. It was a pretty uneventful night, but I did get a laugh when my cousin commented that “I really have a problem with strange girls offering me blow jobs.” (Of course, the shot girls were referring to the shots – but my cousin was right, it is kind of icky.)
Saturday night was my night out with mom, her friend Pat, and Walt Willey. For those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Willey, he is Jackson Montgomery on All My Children. And he is awesome. He was at Zanies Comedy Club, and we went for a meet and greet and then his act. He is a really nice guy, and funnier than hell. Nothing at all like his character, who is verrrrry conservative and reserved and professional. The actor is raunchy and outrageous and hysterical. One of the tamer bits he did was one about Target. He said he hates Target because he feels like they are putting K-Mart out of business, and he really enjoys the blue-light specials. And also, he said he really doesn’t feel safe in Target anyway. According to him, in these troubled times of terrorists, do you REALLY want to shop in a store that has a big bullseye on the front? And he’s right. Think about it, if you get a confused terrorist looking around with his missle launcher for something to shoot, what better than a HUGE BULLSEYE?? Adios, Target!! Scary thought, actually. So I really enjoyed Saturday night.
Sunday I had to pick up Roxy (who DID miss me after all!) and then drive back home again. Traffic sucked coming back into Chicago, and my car (that is totally not used to driving over 400 miles in a stretch) did not handle it well. Thankfully, we made it home and the car seems fine after a couple quarts of oil and a good night’s sleep. I can’t tell you what happened in between getting back to Chicago and being at work this morning, because that is what I WANTED to write about and can’t. (GOD!! I’M DYING HERE!!!)
Oh, one thing I CAN tell you is that for the past four days I have received about six “Restricted” calls on my cell and three on my home line. The creepy thing is that the calls on my home line went into voice mail before the person hung up, and all you hear is that white noise in the background for about a full minute. And while I was in Michigan on Sunday, I answered one of the “Restricted” calls on my cell, and said “hello” like four times before I heard the caller hang up. Now, I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?? (Insert “Exorcist” theme here)
Well, hopefully I’ll get clearance soon, and will have some REALLY good stuff for you. And I guess it’s also almost time for more “Beginning of the End.” But for now – ciao. Satan is back, and I have to do some REAL work.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Seeing the Necromancer
So a good night sleep does wonders, just ask Eminem (kidding - I just read he is in rehab for sleep medication and I couldn't resist!). What I mean is, I am back in the groove and feeling better today. Yay!
I bought my new toilet last night, but for now it is sitting in my living room. The floor guy is coming on Wednesday, and since he will have to take the toilet out anyway, my neighbor said there is no sense installing the new one yet. Thankfully, it is still in the boxes, so it's not like I have a put-together toilet sitting next to my couch. I briefly spoke to Roxy last night, apparently she is having such a good time she can't be bothered with idle chit-chat. And my friend says she is being an absolute angel. This always amazes me, because I know she is a good kid and all, but apparently she is EXTRA good whenever I am not around. I think she does this so that when I tell people about her mouthing off or her attitude, they won't believe me. I really do.
So tonight I am going out with my way-cool 22 year old cousin. If I were to try to tell you all the amazing things she has already done with her life, it would take me the rest of the day. Suffice it to say, she is smart, pretty and an all around good kid. She is in town for a visit until she starts her job at the Miami Herald. How cool is that?? So I got us tickets to see this necromancer at Excalibur. Excalibur is this HUGE club in downtown Chicago that I have been to exactly once, on my 21st birthday. From what I remember, it was pretty intense. So I am a little nervous about going there, what with all the young hip people and all. Then again, I myself am pretty darn hip, so who knows? I figure we'll see this guy, and depending on the crowd (and the drink prices) maybe stay for a while after and just socialize.
I am also getting my hair cut and colored today before I go. By a new stylist. Who was recommended by the girl that tries to kill me on a daily basis at Curves. She claims that this girl is REALLY GOOD and will make my hair look awesome, I told her that she'd better be, or I was coming back for her. Especially since I am going out and won't have time to try to fix it if it looks stupid. I am actually looking forward to being out in a different setting tonight, something outside of my comfort zone, if you will. I tend to stay away from big clubs, for obvious reasons, but I think tonight will be fun. First because we really aren't even going for the club scene per se, and second because I have absolutely no expectations. Which is when things tend to happen. But now that I said that, they probably won't. Although now that I think they probably won't, they probably will. Oh, hell, we'll see, won't we?
Ok, I am really curious at this point to know how many of you read the word "necromancer" above and actually knew what it meant. I deliberately didn't explain it because I thought it would be funny to let people just be like "???" for a while. But since that is also not nice, I will now tell you that a necromancer is a kind of psychic, a spiritualist, a mind reader of sorts. This guy is apparently pretty famous and his show is interactive and sounds pretty interesting. I just hope he doesn't delve TOO far into my mind, because we all know what a scary place that is!!
Anyway, it is also the last day of Satan's vacation. Which means that I will have to start doing real work again on Monday. Thankfully, I have mastered the art of pretending to work while I am actually blogging, so this change won't affect you all that much. And just so you know - busy work all done. I do have a few other loose ends to tie up before I leave here today though (early - for my hair - remember?) so I'd best go. I know I wasn't all that exciting today, sorry. But I'm sure by Monday I'll have a lot more to say.
I bought my new toilet last night, but for now it is sitting in my living room. The floor guy is coming on Wednesday, and since he will have to take the toilet out anyway, my neighbor said there is no sense installing the new one yet. Thankfully, it is still in the boxes, so it's not like I have a put-together toilet sitting next to my couch. I briefly spoke to Roxy last night, apparently she is having such a good time she can't be bothered with idle chit-chat. And my friend says she is being an absolute angel. This always amazes me, because I know she is a good kid and all, but apparently she is EXTRA good whenever I am not around. I think she does this so that when I tell people about her mouthing off or her attitude, they won't believe me. I really do.
So tonight I am going out with my way-cool 22 year old cousin. If I were to try to tell you all the amazing things she has already done with her life, it would take me the rest of the day. Suffice it to say, she is smart, pretty and an all around good kid. She is in town for a visit until she starts her job at the Miami Herald. How cool is that?? So I got us tickets to see this necromancer at Excalibur. Excalibur is this HUGE club in downtown Chicago that I have been to exactly once, on my 21st birthday. From what I remember, it was pretty intense. So I am a little nervous about going there, what with all the young hip people and all. Then again, I myself am pretty darn hip, so who knows? I figure we'll see this guy, and depending on the crowd (and the drink prices) maybe stay for a while after and just socialize.
I am also getting my hair cut and colored today before I go. By a new stylist. Who was recommended by the girl that tries to kill me on a daily basis at Curves. She claims that this girl is REALLY GOOD and will make my hair look awesome, I told her that she'd better be, or I was coming back for her. Especially since I am going out and won't have time to try to fix it if it looks stupid. I am actually looking forward to being out in a different setting tonight, something outside of my comfort zone, if you will. I tend to stay away from big clubs, for obvious reasons, but I think tonight will be fun. First because we really aren't even going for the club scene per se, and second because I have absolutely no expectations. Which is when things tend to happen. But now that I said that, they probably won't. Although now that I think they probably won't, they probably will. Oh, hell, we'll see, won't we?
Ok, I am really curious at this point to know how many of you read the word "necromancer" above and actually knew what it meant. I deliberately didn't explain it because I thought it would be funny to let people just be like "???" for a while. But since that is also not nice, I will now tell you that a necromancer is a kind of psychic, a spiritualist, a mind reader of sorts. This guy is apparently pretty famous and his show is interactive and sounds pretty interesting. I just hope he doesn't delve TOO far into my mind, because we all know what a scary place that is!!
Anyway, it is also the last day of Satan's vacation. Which means that I will have to start doing real work again on Monday. Thankfully, I have mastered the art of pretending to work while I am actually blogging, so this change won't affect you all that much. And just so you know - busy work all done. I do have a few other loose ends to tie up before I leave here today though (early - for my hair - remember?) so I'd best go. I know I wasn't all that exciting today, sorry. But I'm sure by Monday I'll have a lot more to say.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Demons of my Past
I just read a blog that really got to me. You know, for all the time I spend being flip and sarcastic, even I sometimes forget that there is a lot more to my life than what I write. My brother made the comment that it scared him reading some of the things in "The Beginning of the End," pretty much because he was there through it. (Although I was very skilled at keeping things on the down low back then.) I reassured him, and jokingly said that if I ended a blog with "and then Dasi died," well, THEN he could worry. But the bottom line was that it was a long time ago, I had changed, and it DID make for an interesting story.
And then I get whacked upside the head with a really bad memory. I don't want to go into the specifics, but when you have a life with a colorful past such as mine, a lot of things happen that tend to get shoved into the recesses of your mind... and hopefully stay there. Unfortunately, the reality is that bad things DO happen to good people, and no matter how hard you try to forget, you probably never will. The mind is a funny thing, it will protect you from the pain for years, then suddenly BAM! unleash it with a vengeance.
As I wrote in my Fears post, one of my biggest fears is not being liked. I really think that because of this fear, I have an awful habit of always trying to be "on," making people laugh, talking WAYYY too much. Nervous habits, really, just my way of convincing people that I am a good person, that I am fun, that I DESERVE to have friends and be loved. Or is the person I am trying to convince MYSELF? When I think back to the darker parts of my past, between things I have done, people I have hurt, and times I'd like to forget, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sometimes it is really hard to comprehend that I actually LIVED the way I did, and it is almost harder to comprehend how I managed to survive through it all. And now look at me - all better.
Or am I? The strange thing is that although I could never see myself ever doing drugs again, or hanging out with "those people," or throwing away the life I have worked so hard to have, the past just won't let me go. It's fucked with my mind so badly that I pray to God my daughter never has to go through what I did. How do you go on being a normal, happy suburban mom when you've seen roaches crawling over bottles of formula that innocent babies are drinking? Or heard the gunshots that you know probably just killed someone for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or watched someone OD while everyone else took off? Or listened to an eighteen year old runaway cry about missing her family while she smoked away the last of the money she stole from them? Sometimes I think I've forgotten... but I know I never will.
The house with all the cats? Sure, it is a joking plan because of my bad luck with men... but it is also a way to make sure no one gets too close, or judges too harshly. Mr. South Side may have been a psycho, but in all honesty I think I give off a weird aura anyway that keeps most men away. (Mr. South Side was probably just a little slow on the uptake.) I may act all independent and tough, but sometimes I'm really not. Sometimes I'm just someone who has survived her own personal hell and doesn't feel like she deserves the life she was lucky enough to wind up with. Sometimes I feel alone and scared of what other challenges are in store for me in my future. Sometimes I feel like a big fraud - that I'm not really who everyone thinks I am, and when they realize that, they'll be gone.
But mostly I realize that no matter what, life goes on. And that I have to take the bad with the good, because that's part of who I am. Who I was in the past left me with a lot of bad memories, but I am trying to add lots of better ones now. As far as my insecurities, oh, I'm sure they'll always be there. But I'll try to just keep doing the next right thing and take one day at a time. Maybe the demons will leave me alone for a while again, and hopefully I'll be better prepared to face them next time.
Sorry for the darkness, but I needed the catharsis. Time to step back into the light.
And then I get whacked upside the head with a really bad memory. I don't want to go into the specifics, but when you have a life with a colorful past such as mine, a lot of things happen that tend to get shoved into the recesses of your mind... and hopefully stay there. Unfortunately, the reality is that bad things DO happen to good people, and no matter how hard you try to forget, you probably never will. The mind is a funny thing, it will protect you from the pain for years, then suddenly BAM! unleash it with a vengeance.
As I wrote in my Fears post, one of my biggest fears is not being liked. I really think that because of this fear, I have an awful habit of always trying to be "on," making people laugh, talking WAYYY too much. Nervous habits, really, just my way of convincing people that I am a good person, that I am fun, that I DESERVE to have friends and be loved. Or is the person I am trying to convince MYSELF? When I think back to the darker parts of my past, between things I have done, people I have hurt, and times I'd like to forget, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sometimes it is really hard to comprehend that I actually LIVED the way I did, and it is almost harder to comprehend how I managed to survive through it all. And now look at me - all better.
Or am I? The strange thing is that although I could never see myself ever doing drugs again, or hanging out with "those people," or throwing away the life I have worked so hard to have, the past just won't let me go. It's fucked with my mind so badly that I pray to God my daughter never has to go through what I did. How do you go on being a normal, happy suburban mom when you've seen roaches crawling over bottles of formula that innocent babies are drinking? Or heard the gunshots that you know probably just killed someone for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or watched someone OD while everyone else took off? Or listened to an eighteen year old runaway cry about missing her family while she smoked away the last of the money she stole from them? Sometimes I think I've forgotten... but I know I never will.
The house with all the cats? Sure, it is a joking plan because of my bad luck with men... but it is also a way to make sure no one gets too close, or judges too harshly. Mr. South Side may have been a psycho, but in all honesty I think I give off a weird aura anyway that keeps most men away. (Mr. South Side was probably just a little slow on the uptake.) I may act all independent and tough, but sometimes I'm really not. Sometimes I'm just someone who has survived her own personal hell and doesn't feel like she deserves the life she was lucky enough to wind up with. Sometimes I feel alone and scared of what other challenges are in store for me in my future. Sometimes I feel like a big fraud - that I'm not really who everyone thinks I am, and when they realize that, they'll be gone.
But mostly I realize that no matter what, life goes on. And that I have to take the bad with the good, because that's part of who I am. Who I was in the past left me with a lot of bad memories, but I am trying to add lots of better ones now. As far as my insecurities, oh, I'm sure they'll always be there. But I'll try to just keep doing the next right thing and take one day at a time. Maybe the demons will leave me alone for a while again, and hopefully I'll be better prepared to face them next time.
Sorry for the darkness, but I needed the catharsis. Time to step back into the light.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Home Improvements
So as you know, Roxy is in Michigan for the week, which leaves me with plenty of time on my hands. And me with too much free time is a dangerous thing. Last time Roxy spent a couple of days away from home, I decided I didn't like the wallpaper in my bathroom. So I bought some paint and tore it down. Unfortunately, there were several problems with this decision, first of all, I have NEVER painted anything other than a picture (and that was probably last done in high school art), and second, underneath the wallpaper was drywall. Now, to the experienced painter, this may have meant extra work, but not to me. No siree, I just painted right over the drywall. And actually, it doesn't really look half bad. But the whole thing was a real pain in the ass and was a lot harder and more time consuming than I expected.
So you'd think I would've learned my lesson, right? Hell no! After I got back from Michigan (and closed up the stupid garage sale) I started thinking: Wouldn't my bathtub look so much nicer with fresh white caulk? And while I'm at it, I should put in new flooring in the bathroom. Hell, Kathryn did her kitchen floor herself, how hard could a teeny tiny bathroom be? And then maybe when I am done with that, I should clean out my pantry. And put new contact paper on the shelves. Yeah, that's it! When Roxy gets home we'll have a pretty new bathroom floor and a freshly caulked tub, as well as a nice, pretty clean pantry! Cool!
So I went to Home Depot Monday before work and bought everything I thought I would need. At lunchtime I told M I was going to go home and get my tub ready to be caulked, so I probably would be gone a while. I got home and started scraping away the old caulk (per the directions) and guess what? THAT SHIT IS HARD TO DO!!! I was sweating like a pig and my arm was starting to hurt. And it was making a HUGE mess. By the time I finished, I was practically dying. And I still had to go back to work - even though I couldn't shower since there was now no more caulk around my tub. Anyway, after work, I went home and did the actual caulking. Which wasn't that hard at all, and DID look very pretty. Then my mom called, and I was telling her how I just finished caulking and how hard it was to scrape it. She told me that my brother had a little plastic scraper he used, and I told her I was already DONE, that I didn't need a scraper, and she said, "No, he used it to even out the caulk after he applied it." Oh - whatever. Like I was going to do that. Not. I told her I thought my caulk looked just fine, and that I wasn't as anal as my brother. Which just made her sigh like "That's my daughter."
So now that the caulking was done, I still had to do the pantry and the bathroom floor. I started the pantry by taking everything off the shelves and the floor of the pantry, and throwing out everything I either didn't like, was expired, or just looked nasty. I found two cases of pop that I think were left by my dad when he sold me the place, since the cans said "$10 off Great America! Ride the NEW Raging Bull!" - and the Raging Bull has been at Great America for about 10 years now. Gross. That in itself was a job, and when I finished clearing, I was surprised to find that I really need to go grocery shopping. I didn't have as much food as I thought I did. Then I grabbed a roll of contact paper, and started to work on that. You know those pictures of happy suburban housewives putting contact paper on their shelves with a smile? BULLSHIT!! That stuff was made by the DEVIL, I tell you!! If you try to use small sections, it looks stupid, but if you try to use big sections, it all sticks together and won't lay right. While I was wrestling with the contact paper, my neighbor called to tell me he would knock on my door when he got home to fix my toilet.
What? I didn't mention the toilet? Oh, sorry. See, when I pulled up an experimental tile in my bathroom, I noticed that there was quite a bit of dampness around the toilet. My dad told me I probably needed a new "wax ring," and I mentioned this in passing to my neighbor. Turns out he works for a home developing company, and said he could do that for me no problem. But it involved taking out my toilet and then putting it back again. Whatever. The thing was, once he pulled up the toilet, I would have to start putting down the new flooring before he put the toilet back. So after he called, I had to forego the contact paper fight temporarily to rip up all the old linoleum in the bathroom.
Ripping that crap up wasn't easy either. I totally ruined my nails. And the subfloor underneath is all sticky and yukky. When I finally got it all torn up, I surveyed the bathroom. Yes, the tub still looked nice, but the way the floor looked made me pretty nervous. It was pretty wet all by the toilet and bathtub. And stinky, too. But I figured I'd wait until my neighbor got there to see what he thought. Back to the evil contact paper.
He showed up around 8:30, and installed the wax ring thingy with no problem. Then he told me that he wasn't really sure that that was my problem after all. He pointed to the offending floor area (which I was desperately trying to wish dry) and told me that there was no way I could put new flooring over that, because there was obviously mold under it and was rotting away. He also told me that maybe I needed a whole new toilet, that maybe it wasn't the wax ring per se, but the toilet tank and bowl themselves that were leaking since they were so old. And he generously offered to install a new toilet for me if I bought one. Ummm, ok. I guess. I mean, I'm a girl. I know nothing about home improvement, I just PRETEND to. I only want things to look pretty and NOT stink.
Bottom line, I managed to finish the pantry - pretty pretty! But the bathroom is a disaster. Before I put down an old beach towel on the floor, I did get a laugh out of watching one of my cats try walking across the floor while his paws stuck to it with every step. But actually, that shit is NOT funny. Because now I have to call a contractor to come in and fix my whole bathroom floor. Hopefully soon, since I am pretty sure that any water that gets on that sticky subfloor will go right through to my neighbors downstairs. And that would be BAD. And since it is Wednesday already and I haven't even really STARTED the busy work Satan left for me, I am starting to sweat a little. That damn file is HUGE, and I hope I can finish making the stupid directory he wants even if I have to leave for a while to let (hopefully cute) contractors work on my bathroom. Because if I don't, and he fires me, I will REALLY be screwed. Especially since I always decline those "If you lose your job we'll make your credit card payment" offers. And that is what I plan to use to pay the nice contractors.
SO, I guess considering the big picture, it is a good thing I discovered this rotting floor/mold problem now instead of later, to save my home and my health. But I think I am done with do-it-yourself home improvements for a while. At least until Roxy takes another vacation.
So you'd think I would've learned my lesson, right? Hell no! After I got back from Michigan (and closed up the stupid garage sale) I started thinking: Wouldn't my bathtub look so much nicer with fresh white caulk? And while I'm at it, I should put in new flooring in the bathroom. Hell, Kathryn did her kitchen floor herself, how hard could a teeny tiny bathroom be? And then maybe when I am done with that, I should clean out my pantry. And put new contact paper on the shelves. Yeah, that's it! When Roxy gets home we'll have a pretty new bathroom floor and a freshly caulked tub, as well as a nice, pretty clean pantry! Cool!
So I went to Home Depot Monday before work and bought everything I thought I would need. At lunchtime I told M I was going to go home and get my tub ready to be caulked, so I probably would be gone a while. I got home and started scraping away the old caulk (per the directions) and guess what? THAT SHIT IS HARD TO DO!!! I was sweating like a pig and my arm was starting to hurt. And it was making a HUGE mess. By the time I finished, I was practically dying. And I still had to go back to work - even though I couldn't shower since there was now no more caulk around my tub. Anyway, after work, I went home and did the actual caulking. Which wasn't that hard at all, and DID look very pretty. Then my mom called, and I was telling her how I just finished caulking and how hard it was to scrape it. She told me that my brother had a little plastic scraper he used, and I told her I was already DONE, that I didn't need a scraper, and she said, "No, he used it to even out the caulk after he applied it." Oh - whatever. Like I was going to do that. Not. I told her I thought my caulk looked just fine, and that I wasn't as anal as my brother. Which just made her sigh like "That's my daughter."
So now that the caulking was done, I still had to do the pantry and the bathroom floor. I started the pantry by taking everything off the shelves and the floor of the pantry, and throwing out everything I either didn't like, was expired, or just looked nasty. I found two cases of pop that I think were left by my dad when he sold me the place, since the cans said "$10 off Great America! Ride the NEW Raging Bull!" - and the Raging Bull has been at Great America for about 10 years now. Gross. That in itself was a job, and when I finished clearing, I was surprised to find that I really need to go grocery shopping. I didn't have as much food as I thought I did. Then I grabbed a roll of contact paper, and started to work on that. You know those pictures of happy suburban housewives putting contact paper on their shelves with a smile? BULLSHIT!! That stuff was made by the DEVIL, I tell you!! If you try to use small sections, it looks stupid, but if you try to use big sections, it all sticks together and won't lay right. While I was wrestling with the contact paper, my neighbor called to tell me he would knock on my door when he got home to fix my toilet.
What? I didn't mention the toilet? Oh, sorry. See, when I pulled up an experimental tile in my bathroom, I noticed that there was quite a bit of dampness around the toilet. My dad told me I probably needed a new "wax ring," and I mentioned this in passing to my neighbor. Turns out he works for a home developing company, and said he could do that for me no problem. But it involved taking out my toilet and then putting it back again. Whatever. The thing was, once he pulled up the toilet, I would have to start putting down the new flooring before he put the toilet back. So after he called, I had to forego the contact paper fight temporarily to rip up all the old linoleum in the bathroom.
Ripping that crap up wasn't easy either. I totally ruined my nails. And the subfloor underneath is all sticky and yukky. When I finally got it all torn up, I surveyed the bathroom. Yes, the tub still looked nice, but the way the floor looked made me pretty nervous. It was pretty wet all by the toilet and bathtub. And stinky, too. But I figured I'd wait until my neighbor got there to see what he thought. Back to the evil contact paper.
He showed up around 8:30, and installed the wax ring thingy with no problem. Then he told me that he wasn't really sure that that was my problem after all. He pointed to the offending floor area (which I was desperately trying to wish dry) and told me that there was no way I could put new flooring over that, because there was obviously mold under it and was rotting away. He also told me that maybe I needed a whole new toilet, that maybe it wasn't the wax ring per se, but the toilet tank and bowl themselves that were leaking since they were so old. And he generously offered to install a new toilet for me if I bought one. Ummm, ok. I guess. I mean, I'm a girl. I know nothing about home improvement, I just PRETEND to. I only want things to look pretty and NOT stink.
Bottom line, I managed to finish the pantry - pretty pretty! But the bathroom is a disaster. Before I put down an old beach towel on the floor, I did get a laugh out of watching one of my cats try walking across the floor while his paws stuck to it with every step. But actually, that shit is NOT funny. Because now I have to call a contractor to come in and fix my whole bathroom floor. Hopefully soon, since I am pretty sure that any water that gets on that sticky subfloor will go right through to my neighbors downstairs. And that would be BAD. And since it is Wednesday already and I haven't even really STARTED the busy work Satan left for me, I am starting to sweat a little. That damn file is HUGE, and I hope I can finish making the stupid directory he wants even if I have to leave for a while to let (hopefully cute) contractors work on my bathroom. Because if I don't, and he fires me, I will REALLY be screwed. Especially since I always decline those "If you lose your job we'll make your credit card payment" offers. And that is what I plan to use to pay the nice contractors.
SO, I guess considering the big picture, it is a good thing I discovered this rotting floor/mold problem now instead of later, to save my home and my health. But I think I am done with do-it-yourself home improvements for a while. At least until Roxy takes another vacation.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Oh - He Called Again...
but didn't leave a message. Last night at about 8:30 the damn Exorcist theme almost made me jump out of my skin. So whoever bet on "Sunday" wins the pot.
Any wagers for the day of the next call?
Any wagers for the day of the next call?
It's a GARAGE SALE, People!!!
So this past weekend, my condo complex had an all-complex Garage Sale. Every year they do it, but since I moved in, I never participated. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to sell, it was just that I was lazy and sometimes wasn't even in town the weekend it was going on. But this year, I got the brilliant idea to sign up "just in case." Which lead me to clean out my closet last week - and let me tell you, it was no easy task!! I never took physics in my life, but I am pretty sure that the mass is not supposed to be more than the space it is in. Which means that all the crap I found in my closet technically should not have fit in there in the first place. I'm not kidding - I had like three MONSTER piles - stuff for the garage sale, stuff for the garbage, and stuff to go BACK in the closet. Everyone who saw the piles agreed that there is really no logical way it all fit in there in the first place. So I am thinking that maybe one day I will check out the back wall a little more closely and maybe spend the weekend in Narnia or something. (And for those of you who don't know what the hell I am talking about - go ask someone who reads C.S. Lewis.)
Anyway. So now I have a ton of junk to sell, and I also figured this may be a good way to get rid of all the Tastefully Simple products I have left over from when I was a consultant. So I'm figuring that if I make $20 I'll be happy, since when you start with nothing, anything is good. Besides, getting money for crap you were just going to throw out anyway is a positive, right? So my haul consisted mostly of some old clothes of Roxy's, books, stuffed animals, my broken digital camera, an old VCR, a couple box fans, and assorted other stuff. My plan was to do the whole garage sale thing Saturday morning, and probably end early since I had to drive Roxy to Michigan that day too.
When I woke up, I started dragging my "items" downstairs to the garage/driveway. My garage isn't exactly clean and roomy, so most of the stuff had to be set up in the driveway. And it wasn't a sunny and clear day. In fact, it was positively ominous looking outside. But since we hadn't had rain in like a zillion years, I figured the odds that it would actually rain TODAY were not good. (Of course, we were talking LUCK here, of which we all know I don't have much of, so I was waiting for those first raindrops to start hitting my books.) Anyway, as I am setting up, at EIGHT-FIFTEEN AM, when this stupid sale is scheduled to start at NINE O'CLOCK, the old biddies start swooping in like vultures. "ARE YOU OPEN YET??" I couldn't believe it. Here I am, dragging crap out of my garage and trying to set up - does it LOOK like I am "open?" Of course, I say yes, and let them start rifling before I even have price tags on anything. Thankfully (or not?) they don't find anything they feel inclined to buy, so I am left alone to finish my set up. But several other die-hard garbage-pickers, I mean, garage-sale shoppers, wander up and rummage through things literally AS I am setting them up. Un-freaking-believable. Finally, I manage to get everything out, and I sit down in my little chair and take a breath. I am sweating bullets, I am crabby, I am tired, and OF COURSE, it is now starting to rain.
I somehow manage to move everything either to the very front of the garage (which is the only area with any room) or under the front porch awning (thank God my neighbors weren't doing this too!). Then it gets busier. The first thing I realize is that all my price tags are pretty much pointless. People know how much they are going to spend, and it usually is way less than what you want. I really don't think any of them even LOOK at the price tags. And the worst thing is that since I was hot, tired, crabby, AND wet at this point, I was in no mood to bargain. So if something had a pretty little price tag that said $4 and someone said "I'll give you $2" - I said "Fine." So I wasn't about to get rich. But at least I had $2.
Then this guy comes up and asks about the camera. The BROKEN digital camera, which I told him had been dropped and didn't work, but may be able to be fixed. I had priced it at $7 (not bad for a $200 camera, broken or not, I figure) and OF COURSE, this guy says "I'll give you $4." "Fine," I say. For the millionth time that day. Which should've been the end of it. But this MORON starts asking where the accessories are. Why I don't have any of the CABLES with it. Then he opens the battery compartment and asks where the batteries are. Didn't it come with rechargable batteries? I told him, yes, when I bought it it did, but I took out the batteries to use with my NEW camera. So he goes to his car and gets some batteries, inserts them, and presses "power." "Well, the light goes on, but it's broken," he says. I looked at him in confusion. "And you DON'T even have any of the ACCESSORIES with this camera," he adds accusingly. At this point, I have several Spanish-speaking ladies asking me about "ropa" (which I am pretty sure are clothes, especially since they are holding up Roxy's old sweaters) and another woman asking if she could have a Bacon Bacon for $2 (NO!!!!). So I turned to the guy, took a deep breath, and said (through gritted teeth) "Look, you just gave me FOUR DOLLARS for a digital camera that cost TWO HUNDRED new. NO there are no accessories, NO there are no batteries, it is AS IS, and if you DON'T want it, I'll give you your FOUR DOLLARS BACK!!!" So he shrugged, and walked away - with the camera. (At least I didn't have to give him his $4 back)
The rest of the day was uneventful, as garage sales go. What DID surprise me was that nobody even bothered with the books. I had some really good books there, too. I had Stephen King, Danielle Steel, Jackie Collins, Elmore Leonard, Carl Hiassen, Nicholas Sparks... all hardcover - and only $2. But apparently all these people wanted was junk, not good stuff. Whatever. I think I'll take them to a used book store like my brother suggested. Unless someone else wants them. (Send me a comment - maybe I'll send them to YOU!!)
So all told, I raked in a little over $100 - not bad considering I was just going to toss the stuff. But I highly doubt I'd do it again. I think my people skills aren't good enough to deal with garbage-pickers (excuse me, "garage sale people") and honestly, it's not worth the stress.
Anyway. So now I have a ton of junk to sell, and I also figured this may be a good way to get rid of all the Tastefully Simple products I have left over from when I was a consultant. So I'm figuring that if I make $20 I'll be happy, since when you start with nothing, anything is good. Besides, getting money for crap you were just going to throw out anyway is a positive, right? So my haul consisted mostly of some old clothes of Roxy's, books, stuffed animals, my broken digital camera, an old VCR, a couple box fans, and assorted other stuff. My plan was to do the whole garage sale thing Saturday morning, and probably end early since I had to drive Roxy to Michigan that day too.
When I woke up, I started dragging my "items" downstairs to the garage/driveway. My garage isn't exactly clean and roomy, so most of the stuff had to be set up in the driveway. And it wasn't a sunny and clear day. In fact, it was positively ominous looking outside. But since we hadn't had rain in like a zillion years, I figured the odds that it would actually rain TODAY were not good. (Of course, we were talking LUCK here, of which we all know I don't have much of, so I was waiting for those first raindrops to start hitting my books.) Anyway, as I am setting up, at EIGHT-FIFTEEN AM, when this stupid sale is scheduled to start at NINE O'CLOCK, the old biddies start swooping in like vultures. "ARE YOU OPEN YET??" I couldn't believe it. Here I am, dragging crap out of my garage and trying to set up - does it LOOK like I am "open?" Of course, I say yes, and let them start rifling before I even have price tags on anything. Thankfully (or not?) they don't find anything they feel inclined to buy, so I am left alone to finish my set up. But several other die-hard garbage-pickers, I mean, garage-sale shoppers, wander up and rummage through things literally AS I am setting them up. Un-freaking-believable. Finally, I manage to get everything out, and I sit down in my little chair and take a breath. I am sweating bullets, I am crabby, I am tired, and OF COURSE, it is now starting to rain.
I somehow manage to move everything either to the very front of the garage (which is the only area with any room) or under the front porch awning (thank God my neighbors weren't doing this too!). Then it gets busier. The first thing I realize is that all my price tags are pretty much pointless. People know how much they are going to spend, and it usually is way less than what you want. I really don't think any of them even LOOK at the price tags. And the worst thing is that since I was hot, tired, crabby, AND wet at this point, I was in no mood to bargain. So if something had a pretty little price tag that said $4 and someone said "I'll give you $2" - I said "Fine." So I wasn't about to get rich. But at least I had $2.
Then this guy comes up and asks about the camera. The BROKEN digital camera, which I told him had been dropped and didn't work, but may be able to be fixed. I had priced it at $7 (not bad for a $200 camera, broken or not, I figure) and OF COURSE, this guy says "I'll give you $4." "Fine," I say. For the millionth time that day. Which should've been the end of it. But this MORON starts asking where the accessories are. Why I don't have any of the CABLES with it. Then he opens the battery compartment and asks where the batteries are. Didn't it come with rechargable batteries? I told him, yes, when I bought it it did, but I took out the batteries to use with my NEW camera. So he goes to his car and gets some batteries, inserts them, and presses "power." "Well, the light goes on, but it's broken," he says. I looked at him in confusion. "And you DON'T even have any of the ACCESSORIES with this camera," he adds accusingly. At this point, I have several Spanish-speaking ladies asking me about "ropa" (which I am pretty sure are clothes, especially since they are holding up Roxy's old sweaters) and another woman asking if she could have a Bacon Bacon for $2 (NO!!!!). So I turned to the guy, took a deep breath, and said (through gritted teeth) "Look, you just gave me FOUR DOLLARS for a digital camera that cost TWO HUNDRED new. NO there are no accessories, NO there are no batteries, it is AS IS, and if you DON'T want it, I'll give you your FOUR DOLLARS BACK!!!" So he shrugged, and walked away - with the camera. (At least I didn't have to give him his $4 back)
The rest of the day was uneventful, as garage sales go. What DID surprise me was that nobody even bothered with the books. I had some really good books there, too. I had Stephen King, Danielle Steel, Jackie Collins, Elmore Leonard, Carl Hiassen, Nicholas Sparks... all hardcover - and only $2. But apparently all these people wanted was junk, not good stuff. Whatever. I think I'll take them to a used book store like my brother suggested. Unless someone else wants them. (Send me a comment - maybe I'll send them to YOU!!)
So all told, I raked in a little over $100 - not bad considering I was just going to toss the stuff. But I highly doubt I'd do it again. I think my people skills aren't good enough to deal with garbage-pickers (excuse me, "garage sale people") and honestly, it's not worth the stress.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Guilty Pleasures
Don't worry, I'm in a better mood today. Actually, I was in a better mood by the end of the day, even though the Cubs really pissed me off by absolutely KILLING the Cardinals. Yes, I was pissed about that. Because WHY COULDN'T THEY HAVE WON WHEN I WAS THERE??? Two home runs from D Lee and some awesome offense AND defense - they SUCK. My brother just laughs at me because of this, but seriously - what the f***? I guess there is no happy medium when it comes to the Cubs, either. But I digress.
Another reason I found myself in a better mood was because I listened to some perfect music yesterday as I was driving home. I LOVE music. Music has a way of really putting things into perspective, you know? If you play the right music at any given time, it can validate your current feelings and make you feel better about them, or it can change your mood entirely. It can bring you back to days you miss, or it can slam you with memories of days you wish you could forget. There are actually some songs I absolutely CANNOT listen to, for several reasons. Songs that make my stomach knot up and put me right back where I NEVER want to be again. But then there are songs that make me smile, or laugh, or just sing along with while I relive my glory days.
My taste in music is somewhat eclectic, if you will, I pretty much can listen to anything. Although I am hooked on a lot of 80's music for sentimental reasons, even my taste in 80's is pretty open. I know most all the words to the big hair bands' songs, the psychedelic funk songs, the dance songs on the 12" singles, the pop songs... And nowadays, I am STILL expanding my horizons by listening to the Top 40 that Roxy likes (some is pretty good, a LOT is stolen from my era(!), and some is unbelievably erotic - which I find a bit too much for a ten year old) and even listening when my brother makes some suggestions. But yesterday when I was in my BAD MOOD, I popped in a CD that made me feel WAYYYY better, and as a respectable single mother, I probably shouldn't be telling you what CD it was. But I will.
It was Eminem.
More specifically, it was his song "Puke." Yes, I know, I know, it is a HORRIBLE song (to be honest, I could do without the intro, but I can scan past that), but it pretty much vocalized my feelings at the time. And it makes me laugh. I mean, come on - how many other songs out there say it like it is?? He just has the perfect way of articulating what I am sure MILLIONS of people are feeling at any given moment. For those of you unfamiliar with his lyrics, allow me to enlighten you: "You don't know how sick you make me/You make me f****** sick to my stomach/Every time I think of you I puke" et al. For some reason, singing those lines makes me feel better. Not that I would ever allow ROXY to listen to it, at least not at 10, but hell, I am an adult and can listen to what I want. Ok, to placate the parents out there who really do not like Eminem, I will admit that he OCCASIONALLY crosses a line as far as violence goes, but come on! He is freakin HILARIOUS! For adults. How cool would it be to be able to sing what he does and make gagillions of dollars doing it? VERY. I also like "Ass Like That." FUNNY, Funny, funny. The guy has a sense of humor. But he also has a sweet side: look at "Mockingbird." Just because he swears and talks about sex a lot doesn't mean he is a bad dad. Anyway.
Is it so wrong for a suburbanite mom like me to secretly enjoy listening to this kind of music? Good thing I am not on the PTA, I'd probably get burned at the stake or something. I guess my horrible attraction to music that is not "Tipper Gore friendly" began way back with Prince in the 80's. "Darling Nikki" was a favorite, as well as "Let's Pretend We're Married." And then I also loved listening to Axl Rose singing "I used to love her, but I had to kill her." Lately, I have been half-assed censoring some songs my Roxy listens to, but secretly I really enjoy them myself. It's kind of fun getting ready to go out while listening to "Don'tcha" by the Pussycat Dolls. (Never mind that I'm probably not "a freak" anyway, it amuses me to sing along and pretend...) Bottom line - music is a pretty important part of my life. And had it not been for Eminem yesterday, I would probably still be in a BAD MOOD. But I'm not.
So yay Eminem.
Another reason I found myself in a better mood was because I listened to some perfect music yesterday as I was driving home. I LOVE music. Music has a way of really putting things into perspective, you know? If you play the right music at any given time, it can validate your current feelings and make you feel better about them, or it can change your mood entirely. It can bring you back to days you miss, or it can slam you with memories of days you wish you could forget. There are actually some songs I absolutely CANNOT listen to, for several reasons. Songs that make my stomach knot up and put me right back where I NEVER want to be again. But then there are songs that make me smile, or laugh, or just sing along with while I relive my glory days.
My taste in music is somewhat eclectic, if you will, I pretty much can listen to anything. Although I am hooked on a lot of 80's music for sentimental reasons, even my taste in 80's is pretty open. I know most all the words to the big hair bands' songs, the psychedelic funk songs, the dance songs on the 12" singles, the pop songs... And nowadays, I am STILL expanding my horizons by listening to the Top 40 that Roxy likes (some is pretty good, a LOT is stolen from my era(!), and some is unbelievably erotic - which I find a bit too much for a ten year old) and even listening when my brother makes some suggestions. But yesterday when I was in my BAD MOOD, I popped in a CD that made me feel WAYYYY better, and as a respectable single mother, I probably shouldn't be telling you what CD it was. But I will.
It was Eminem.
More specifically, it was his song "Puke." Yes, I know, I know, it is a HORRIBLE song (to be honest, I could do without the intro, but I can scan past that), but it pretty much vocalized my feelings at the time. And it makes me laugh. I mean, come on - how many other songs out there say it like it is?? He just has the perfect way of articulating what I am sure MILLIONS of people are feeling at any given moment. For those of you unfamiliar with his lyrics, allow me to enlighten you: "You don't know how sick you make me/You make me f****** sick to my stomach/Every time I think of you I puke" et al. For some reason, singing those lines makes me feel better. Not that I would ever allow ROXY to listen to it, at least not at 10, but hell, I am an adult and can listen to what I want. Ok, to placate the parents out there who really do not like Eminem, I will admit that he OCCASIONALLY crosses a line as far as violence goes, but come on! He is freakin HILARIOUS! For adults. How cool would it be to be able to sing what he does and make gagillions of dollars doing it? VERY. I also like "Ass Like That." FUNNY, Funny, funny. The guy has a sense of humor. But he also has a sweet side: look at "Mockingbird." Just because he swears and talks about sex a lot doesn't mean he is a bad dad. Anyway.
Is it so wrong for a suburbanite mom like me to secretly enjoy listening to this kind of music? Good thing I am not on the PTA, I'd probably get burned at the stake or something. I guess my horrible attraction to music that is not "Tipper Gore friendly" began way back with Prince in the 80's. "Darling Nikki" was a favorite, as well as "Let's Pretend We're Married." And then I also loved listening to Axl Rose singing "I used to love her, but I had to kill her." Lately, I have been half-assed censoring some songs my Roxy listens to, but secretly I really enjoy them myself. It's kind of fun getting ready to go out while listening to "Don'tcha" by the Pussycat Dolls. (Never mind that I'm probably not "a freak" anyway, it amuses me to sing along and pretend...) Bottom line - music is a pretty important part of my life. And had it not been for Eminem yesterday, I would probably still be in a BAD MOOD. But I'm not.
So yay Eminem.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
BAD MOOD
I am in a BAD mood today. And when I am in a BAD mood, you are best off just avoiding me altogether. Luckily for you, since I am nothing more than words on a computer screen, you are pretty much safe. Except for the fact that you have to deal with my ranting about WHY I am in a BAD mood. (Unless, of course, you just stop reading right here. And I wouldn't blame you if you did.)
First off - I took the day off yesterday to go to a Cubs game with my mother, Roxy, and one of her friends. Since Satan is on vacation, my co-worker M and I worked out a plan to cover for me if he called (which I knew he would) and hopefully I would not have to use a vacation day. A couple things went wrong with - well, with EVERYTHING. First of all, Satan DID call. No problem, M covered, and he didn't call back. But she informed me that the stupid receptionist told her she "didn't feel comfortable covering for dasi when Satan calls," and she mentioned it to HER supervisor. Which is absolute BS because we lease space in our building, and it is NOT reception's job to tell Satan anything other than "she's not in." They don't even work in our office - they are a totally separate entity. So now I have to worry if dumbass answered the phone by freaking out and saying something like "No, Satan, dasi isn't here and hasn't been all day, and as far as I know, she is playing hooky and not planning on telling you." In any case, it's not the end of the world, if I HAVE to use a vacation day, I will, but it still pisses me off.
So, after hearing from M at work, I am crabby enough, and it is hot and we are still waiting outside to get into Wrigley since we have bleacher seats and you HAVE to get there super early to get a good spot. So I am TRYING really hard to get un-crabby, and when they finally let us in and I get us choice seats front row right by Corey (poor guy deserves a break), I start to lighten up a bit. I chat with the security guy, and open one of the Twisted V's I have so sneakily poured into a water bottle to smuggle into the game - only since it is a carbonated beverage that has been sitting in the little cooler for a while, when I go to twist off the cap, it POPS off and goes flying across the bleachers. This caused the security guy to duck and say "was that a BALL?" It was actually pretty funny, especially when I was trying to tell him how ODD it was that a cap would pop off a bottle of "water" that forcefully. So Greg Maddux waved to us, and when the Reds came out for batting practice, I was still trying to get someone to throw a ball our way. Two of the Reds players were motioning for me to lift up my top, indicating that if I did that, they would throw me a ball. Perverts. I think NOT. (Besides, I was with my daughter and my mom.) (Not that I would ANYWAY, Jeromy threw me one last game WITHOUT a peep show, remember??) So. Game starts, and it is HOT. The girls are whining about when the game is going to end, and it LITERALLY just started. Then in the fourth inning, everything went for shit. My boys in blue fell apart AGAIN. Never in my life have I left a Cub game before it ended, but all things considered, I was so DONE. Not even halfway through the game, and we were SO outta there. It was like watching a train wreck - in slow motion. And it was SO FREAKIN' HOT!!!!! Don't get me wrong, I still love my Cubs, but the fact is, they have sucked royally lately, and I had no desire to watch them crash and burn for the EIGHTH (yes, EIGHTH) time in a row. (And I STILL will NEVER cheer for the Sox - even if the Cubs NEVER win another game.)
So, BAD mood yesterday. Oh, AND my brother's and mom's birthdays are both in August, as is my Bro's anniversary, so we were trying to figure out a time to get together. Since I am driving Roxy to MI for a week, three days are out for driving and picking up time. And I am going out with my cousin (who is very smart and very cool and will someday be very rich and famous) on the Friday night between their birthdays, so that day is out. Which apparently screws EVERYTHING up. Never mind that I offered to drive in from the burbs to the city (where both of them live) during the week if I had to, because a weekday isn't the same as a weekend. Even though Thursday night and Friday night would basically both involve me driving in after work and driving back after dinner. Because, oh, I don't know, maybe mom was planning on getting lit or something and doesn't want to deal with work on Friday if we do dinner on Thursday (that was sarcastic - I honestly don't KNOW why mom is pissed about the whole Thursday instead of Friday thing). So I e-mailed my bro today and told him to just make plans with mom and WITHOUT me, that I would get together with them separately since it was obviously MY plans that were screwing everyone up. Good old Bob told me he will deal with mom and not to stress, but I am STILL in a BAD mood. Because I KNOW what will happen. He will call my mom and try to plan this out without me, and then she will get even MORE mad at me, but since she is the ultimate passive-aggressive, will just guilt me until I blow up.
Add to that the fact that I had to take Roxy to her school for Information Day - and she found out that not ONLY does she have the teacher who is "the meanest and hardest" but she also has NOT ONE of her friends in her class this year (which is so obviously my fault) - and you have the reasons behind my BAD mood. Grrr.
Actually, I am feeling a little bit better after venting. But my shoulder is still tense and still hurts. Which always happens when I am in a BAD mood. I am going to lunch with a friend of mine today though, maybe he will be able to distract me. And then maybe if I feel like it I can write a nicer blog later. Or not. We'll see.
First off - I took the day off yesterday to go to a Cubs game with my mother, Roxy, and one of her friends. Since Satan is on vacation, my co-worker M and I worked out a plan to cover for me if he called (which I knew he would) and hopefully I would not have to use a vacation day. A couple things went wrong with - well, with EVERYTHING. First of all, Satan DID call. No problem, M covered, and he didn't call back. But she informed me that the stupid receptionist told her she "didn't feel comfortable covering for dasi when Satan calls," and she mentioned it to HER supervisor. Which is absolute BS because we lease space in our building, and it is NOT reception's job to tell Satan anything other than "she's not in." They don't even work in our office - they are a totally separate entity. So now I have to worry if dumbass answered the phone by freaking out and saying something like "No, Satan, dasi isn't here and hasn't been all day, and as far as I know, she is playing hooky and not planning on telling you." In any case, it's not the end of the world, if I HAVE to use a vacation day, I will, but it still pisses me off.
So, after hearing from M at work, I am crabby enough, and it is hot and we are still waiting outside to get into Wrigley since we have bleacher seats and you HAVE to get there super early to get a good spot. So I am TRYING really hard to get un-crabby, and when they finally let us in and I get us choice seats front row right by Corey (poor guy deserves a break), I start to lighten up a bit. I chat with the security guy, and open one of the Twisted V's I have so sneakily poured into a water bottle to smuggle into the game - only since it is a carbonated beverage that has been sitting in the little cooler for a while, when I go to twist off the cap, it POPS off and goes flying across the bleachers. This caused the security guy to duck and say "was that a BALL?" It was actually pretty funny, especially when I was trying to tell him how ODD it was that a cap would pop off a bottle of "water" that forcefully. So Greg Maddux waved to us, and when the Reds came out for batting practice, I was still trying to get someone to throw a ball our way. Two of the Reds players were motioning for me to lift up my top, indicating that if I did that, they would throw me a ball. Perverts. I think NOT. (Besides, I was with my daughter and my mom.) (Not that I would ANYWAY, Jeromy threw me one last game WITHOUT a peep show, remember??) So. Game starts, and it is HOT. The girls are whining about when the game is going to end, and it LITERALLY just started. Then in the fourth inning, everything went for shit. My boys in blue fell apart AGAIN. Never in my life have I left a Cub game before it ended, but all things considered, I was so DONE. Not even halfway through the game, and we were SO outta there. It was like watching a train wreck - in slow motion. And it was SO FREAKIN' HOT!!!!! Don't get me wrong, I still love my Cubs, but the fact is, they have sucked royally lately, and I had no desire to watch them crash and burn for the EIGHTH (yes, EIGHTH) time in a row. (And I STILL will NEVER cheer for the Sox - even if the Cubs NEVER win another game.)
So, BAD mood yesterday. Oh, AND my brother's and mom's birthdays are both in August, as is my Bro's anniversary, so we were trying to figure out a time to get together. Since I am driving Roxy to MI for a week, three days are out for driving and picking up time. And I am going out with my cousin (who is very smart and very cool and will someday be very rich and famous) on the Friday night between their birthdays, so that day is out. Which apparently screws EVERYTHING up. Never mind that I offered to drive in from the burbs to the city (where both of them live) during the week if I had to, because a weekday isn't the same as a weekend. Even though Thursday night and Friday night would basically both involve me driving in after work and driving back after dinner. Because, oh, I don't know, maybe mom was planning on getting lit or something and doesn't want to deal with work on Friday if we do dinner on Thursday (that was sarcastic - I honestly don't KNOW why mom is pissed about the whole Thursday instead of Friday thing). So I e-mailed my bro today and told him to just make plans with mom and WITHOUT me, that I would get together with them separately since it was obviously MY plans that were screwing everyone up. Good old Bob told me he will deal with mom and not to stress, but I am STILL in a BAD mood. Because I KNOW what will happen. He will call my mom and try to plan this out without me, and then she will get even MORE mad at me, but since she is the ultimate passive-aggressive, will just guilt me until I blow up.
Add to that the fact that I had to take Roxy to her school for Information Day - and she found out that not ONLY does she have the teacher who is "the meanest and hardest" but she also has NOT ONE of her friends in her class this year (which is so obviously my fault) - and you have the reasons behind my BAD mood. Grrr.
Actually, I am feeling a little bit better after venting. But my shoulder is still tense and still hurts. Which always happens when I am in a BAD mood. I am going to lunch with a friend of mine today though, maybe he will be able to distract me. And then maybe if I feel like it I can write a nicer blog later. Or not. We'll see.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Crazy Days of Youth
So I am sorry to say (for those of you who were SO enjoying the saga) (Thanks, Amber) that I have not heard the Exorcist theme since Sunday. So I am thinking one of two things has happened – either Mr. South Side FINALLY got a clue and has given up; or the more likely theory that Mr. South Side is laying low for a short while thinking that absence makes the heart grow fonder and will be calling again sooner rather than later. But never fear – for thanks to a brief conversation with my friend Julie yesterday, I am prepared to regale you all with a fun story from my youth.
See, I was lucky enough to go to an all-girls Catholic high school, and contrary to popular belief, all Catholic school girls are NOT slutty little ho’s. Au contraire, as my friend Julie and I were discussing yesterday, we were pretty darn naïve. At least, Julie and I were. I really can’t vouch for the rest of our class. To be honest, I’m sure there WERE at least a couple slutty little ho’s, just not Julie and me. But I digress.
Julie and I also worked together at the hospital across the street, in the dietary department. Which basically means we got to put the food on all the sick peoples’ trays, and eat whatever was left over. And goof off a lot. It was a TOTALLY fun job. In any case, one day when we got to work, there was a flyer posted by the employee lounge. Apparently the good Sisters of the Resurrection were sponsoring a ski trip up in Michigan for a whole weekend. All employees were welcome to attend, but space was limited. The fee was pretty reasonable, and it included a round-trip bus ride, lodging, ski equipment and lift tickets. Sounded great to us, so we started working our parents for the fee. (Hey, we were only making minimum wage – like WE would pay our own way!!) The trip became the main discussion at work, several of the guys were going, but Julie and I were the only girls. Of course, we told our parents that we would be rooming with six other nurse’s aides (we figured that sounded appropriate, since nurse’s aides sounded much more responsible than “a bunch of guys we know”). As it turned out, our ski trip “clique” consisted of myself, Julie, and eight guys. Obviously, there were other people going, but no one WE cared about. Now, keep in mind, we were like seventeen, and TOTAL innocents. It amazes me just how stupid we actually were back then.
So the weekend of the trip comes, and our parents drop us off at the hospital, where the two of us kind of wander by a group of women who certainly LOOK like nurse’s aides, and wait for them to drive off. When they do, we meander over to our REAL group – six guys we know pretty well, and two we don’t know at all. (Oh, I guess I should add that of the eight guys, five were over 21, which meant they had plenty of alcohol with them.) Now, before you go getting all “holier than thou” on me, remember that I said we were NICE girls – and although this all sounds like a big recipe for trouble (which it really should’ve been) it was really ok. Despite the fact that Julie and I had divided up the guys into three groups: guys SHE wanted, guys I wanted, and guys neither of us wanted. (I think she had three, I had three, and two were left over. Since we didn’t really know the other two and they weren’t that cute.) We all got on the bus, and moved to the rear. Because everyone knows that’s where the “cool” people hang out. And since I think the bus driver didn’t really know that there were minors on the trip (and I KNOW Sister Bonaventure didn’t) we cracked open our first (of many) beers of the weekend.
As I recall, one of Julie’s choices and one of my choices were cooperating nicely, and being all attentive and pleasant. And of course, we both were milking it, smiling and giggling and getting slightly buzzed. The “wild guys” (that were over 21) turned on the “Animal House” soundtrack and started singing along. (Good tunes, those were… but I guess in hindsight, I should’ve known where this weekend was going!!) Someone “happened” to locate a bottle of Jack Daniels, and about ¾ of the way into the trip (and halfway into the bottle), one of the guys leaned in toward Julie and I and stated emphatically, “Your MAMAS. aren’t HERE. TO. PRO. TECT. YOU.” At that point, we did get a bit nervous, but felt sure our virtue was safe. (To be honest, we never thought for a second that it wasn’t.) The rest of the bus trip was spent singing (and drinking) and laughing (and drinking) and maybe some kissing (and drinking), and finally we pulled up to the chalet.
Julie and I, being old school and all, decided that as girls, we weren’t going to help with the luggage at all. And we informed the guys of this fact. Surprisingly, they were ok with it. I think they may have just been too buzzed to argue. Anyway, Julie and I stormed the chalet while the guys wrestled with luggage, and started counting. In the living room was a couch, which was conveniently opened up into a bed. Two places to sleep. Upstairs were two additional bedrooms, one with a queen sized bed and one with two sets of bunk beds. Ok, so assuming we all passed basic math, this meant there were eight places to sleep. And ten of us. So, Julie and I did what any smart girls would do: we ran into the room with the queen sized bed and locked the door behind us.
Shortly thereafter we heard the guys stumbling in. It didn’t take long for them to do the math as well, and start pounding on the door. (Obviously, they weren’t going to be gentlemen about the beds.) Julie and I just laid on the bed laughing at their obvious misconception that we were going to let them in, until one of them broke the door down (not unlike the big bad wolf, mind you) and announced that the only way we could sleep in this bed was if we slept with him. And since this was one of the guys that was on the “neither” list, that wasn’t going to happen. To be honest, neither of us had any desire to sleep with ANYONE, nice girls that we were (I wasn’t kidding about that), so we wound up first trying to sleep on a box spring (which let me tell you, is NOT a good idea) and then winding up sleeping under the bunk beds. Which wasn’t so bad, unless you try to sit up in bed.
The rest of the weekend was pretty rowdy, but considering the fact that Julie and I were the only girls in a house with eight guys in the middle of nowhere and a lot of booze, we were lucky that it was only drunken goofiness. And a little bit of kissing. Sure, we knew the guys beforehand, but HELLO? Date rape, anyone? Which is what Julie and I were discussing yesterday. How we were sooooo stupid and naïve, and how the HELL did we not realize that?? Actually, the two of us managed to get ourselves into several sticky situations, without even realizing it. There was also the time we met two of her brother’s buddies who were in from the navy, and when they came in for leave, Julie and I thought NOTHING of going with them to a motel “just to hang out.” (And back then, I didn’t even know there was another meaning for the term “hang out!!”) Which is all we did, believe it or not. VERRRRY lucky – since these were navy guys we barely knew. And the times we would hang out in the forest preserve and walk ALONE into the woods to go pee. Oh, my God. If MY Roxy EVER even THOUGHT of doing any of these things, I would have to kill her. And Julie has THREE daughters SHE has to worry about. HA! Thank God I only have one.
Regardless of how stupid and naïve we were, though, we DID manage to survive. And we can laugh about it all now. And shake our heads in amazement. But I’m serious about killing Roxy. Homey don’t play that. And my poor kid won’t get away with ANYTHING, since her mom has “been there, done that” several times over and knows EVERYTHING!!! Well, I think I do, at least. Who knows with these crazy kids today. I guess I can only hope that she has more sense than I did.
Even though (I have to admit) I did have HELLA fun growing up.
See, I was lucky enough to go to an all-girls Catholic high school, and contrary to popular belief, all Catholic school girls are NOT slutty little ho’s. Au contraire, as my friend Julie and I were discussing yesterday, we were pretty darn naïve. At least, Julie and I were. I really can’t vouch for the rest of our class. To be honest, I’m sure there WERE at least a couple slutty little ho’s, just not Julie and me. But I digress.
Julie and I also worked together at the hospital across the street, in the dietary department. Which basically means we got to put the food on all the sick peoples’ trays, and eat whatever was left over. And goof off a lot. It was a TOTALLY fun job. In any case, one day when we got to work, there was a flyer posted by the employee lounge. Apparently the good Sisters of the Resurrection were sponsoring a ski trip up in Michigan for a whole weekend. All employees were welcome to attend, but space was limited. The fee was pretty reasonable, and it included a round-trip bus ride, lodging, ski equipment and lift tickets. Sounded great to us, so we started working our parents for the fee. (Hey, we were only making minimum wage – like WE would pay our own way!!) The trip became the main discussion at work, several of the guys were going, but Julie and I were the only girls. Of course, we told our parents that we would be rooming with six other nurse’s aides (we figured that sounded appropriate, since nurse’s aides sounded much more responsible than “a bunch of guys we know”). As it turned out, our ski trip “clique” consisted of myself, Julie, and eight guys. Obviously, there were other people going, but no one WE cared about. Now, keep in mind, we were like seventeen, and TOTAL innocents. It amazes me just how stupid we actually were back then.
So the weekend of the trip comes, and our parents drop us off at the hospital, where the two of us kind of wander by a group of women who certainly LOOK like nurse’s aides, and wait for them to drive off. When they do, we meander over to our REAL group – six guys we know pretty well, and two we don’t know at all. (Oh, I guess I should add that of the eight guys, five were over 21, which meant they had plenty of alcohol with them.) Now, before you go getting all “holier than thou” on me, remember that I said we were NICE girls – and although this all sounds like a big recipe for trouble (which it really should’ve been) it was really ok. Despite the fact that Julie and I had divided up the guys into three groups: guys SHE wanted, guys I wanted, and guys neither of us wanted. (I think she had three, I had three, and two were left over. Since we didn’t really know the other two and they weren’t that cute.) We all got on the bus, and moved to the rear. Because everyone knows that’s where the “cool” people hang out. And since I think the bus driver didn’t really know that there were minors on the trip (and I KNOW Sister Bonaventure didn’t) we cracked open our first (of many) beers of the weekend.
As I recall, one of Julie’s choices and one of my choices were cooperating nicely, and being all attentive and pleasant. And of course, we both were milking it, smiling and giggling and getting slightly buzzed. The “wild guys” (that were over 21) turned on the “Animal House” soundtrack and started singing along. (Good tunes, those were… but I guess in hindsight, I should’ve known where this weekend was going!!) Someone “happened” to locate a bottle of Jack Daniels, and about ¾ of the way into the trip (and halfway into the bottle), one of the guys leaned in toward Julie and I and stated emphatically, “Your MAMAS. aren’t HERE. TO. PRO. TECT. YOU.” At that point, we did get a bit nervous, but felt sure our virtue was safe. (To be honest, we never thought for a second that it wasn’t.) The rest of the bus trip was spent singing (and drinking) and laughing (and drinking) and maybe some kissing (and drinking), and finally we pulled up to the chalet.
Julie and I, being old school and all, decided that as girls, we weren’t going to help with the luggage at all. And we informed the guys of this fact. Surprisingly, they were ok with it. I think they may have just been too buzzed to argue. Anyway, Julie and I stormed the chalet while the guys wrestled with luggage, and started counting. In the living room was a couch, which was conveniently opened up into a bed. Two places to sleep. Upstairs were two additional bedrooms, one with a queen sized bed and one with two sets of bunk beds. Ok, so assuming we all passed basic math, this meant there were eight places to sleep. And ten of us. So, Julie and I did what any smart girls would do: we ran into the room with the queen sized bed and locked the door behind us.
Shortly thereafter we heard the guys stumbling in. It didn’t take long for them to do the math as well, and start pounding on the door. (Obviously, they weren’t going to be gentlemen about the beds.) Julie and I just laid on the bed laughing at their obvious misconception that we were going to let them in, until one of them broke the door down (not unlike the big bad wolf, mind you) and announced that the only way we could sleep in this bed was if we slept with him. And since this was one of the guys that was on the “neither” list, that wasn’t going to happen. To be honest, neither of us had any desire to sleep with ANYONE, nice girls that we were (I wasn’t kidding about that), so we wound up first trying to sleep on a box spring (which let me tell you, is NOT a good idea) and then winding up sleeping under the bunk beds. Which wasn’t so bad, unless you try to sit up in bed.
The rest of the weekend was pretty rowdy, but considering the fact that Julie and I were the only girls in a house with eight guys in the middle of nowhere and a lot of booze, we were lucky that it was only drunken goofiness. And a little bit of kissing. Sure, we knew the guys beforehand, but HELLO? Date rape, anyone? Which is what Julie and I were discussing yesterday. How we were sooooo stupid and naïve, and how the HELL did we not realize that?? Actually, the two of us managed to get ourselves into several sticky situations, without even realizing it. There was also the time we met two of her brother’s buddies who were in from the navy, and when they came in for leave, Julie and I thought NOTHING of going with them to a motel “just to hang out.” (And back then, I didn’t even know there was another meaning for the term “hang out!!”) Which is all we did, believe it or not. VERRRRY lucky – since these were navy guys we barely knew. And the times we would hang out in the forest preserve and walk ALONE into the woods to go pee. Oh, my God. If MY Roxy EVER even THOUGHT of doing any of these things, I would have to kill her. And Julie has THREE daughters SHE has to worry about. HA! Thank God I only have one.
Regardless of how stupid and naïve we were, though, we DID manage to survive. And we can laugh about it all now. And shake our heads in amazement. But I’m serious about killing Roxy. Homey don’t play that. And my poor kid won’t get away with ANYTHING, since her mom has “been there, done that” several times over and knows EVERYTHING!!! Well, I think I do, at least. Who knows with these crazy kids today. I guess I can only hope that she has more sense than I did.
Even though (I have to admit) I did have HELLA fun growing up.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Just Friends - NOT!
Ok, so apparently my theory about the tiki may have been incorrect. Or maybe I really DO have to somehow get it back to Hawaii (which, by the way, we all know is impossible now). Or maybe Mr. South Side’s determination is just stronger than any tiki out there.
Yes, he is calling again. The all-too-familiar Exorcist theme has been blasting from my phone on numerous occasions over the weekend. I had mentioned Friday’s call – SO obviously him. Then he called again on Saturday, this time leaving a message, asking how Roxy and I are doing (and since he has never even MET Roxy, this makes me nervous) and also asking me to call him back. Because we ARE still friends, right? WRONG!!! Wrong wrong wrong on SOOOOOOO many levels!! You know, when I was young and stupid, I firmly believed in the “let’s just be friends” principle. But as I got older, and wiser, I came to realize that for a guy and a girl who were once “together,” it is practically IMPOSSIBLE to be “just friends.”
Now, I say “practically” because I do happen to have one guy friend (yes, just one) that I used to date. And he dumped me and initially I was really bothered, but now I am grateful. Because we are definitely better “friends” material. Keep in mind, though, that we used to date like NINE years ago, and it took like FOUR of those nine years to get past all the “you stupid ass, how could you dump me?” feelings and move on to the “you know, I was really too good for you, anyway” feelings. (No offense, buddy!) I think it was after the girl he dumped ME for dumped HIM that I was able to see him in a different light. So once I got done gloating, we started talking more and actually, I can talk to him now about pretty much anything. With no “unrequited love” bullshit or tension whatsoever. Because we are both SOOO past our past. Which is nice. But DEFINITELY not the norm, if you know what I mean.
Normally what happens is when you end a relationship with the “let’s just be friends” line, MAJOR problems ensue. First of all, when someone breaks things off, the other party will sometimes have a hard time accepting this. Especially if it is sudden (at least, to the break-ee). And the “let’s be friends” line is a way of keeping hope alive. Because as a friend, you still have the opportunity to get that person drunk and seduce them, thus leading back to a relationship. Which will last until the other person wakes up sober and says “We really shouldn’t have done that.” At which point the break-ee usually gets all melancholy and tries to remind the break-er about all their good times together, and how well they get along – even though they are technically “just friends.” This is a mind game that ALWAYS ends badly. Trust me, I know. (Don’t ask HOW – it’s none of your business.)
Also, sometimes the “just friends” thing does work – temporarily. Until the break-er starts dating someone new. Which is always messy, because even if the break-ee is TOTALLY ok with this, new boyfriend or girlfriend usually isn’t. Let’s face it, no one wants to date someone whose ex is hanging around, being their “friend.” Because new boy(girl)friend KNOWS what is really up – that the ex who is now “just a friend” is REALLY waiting around for things to fall apart so they can pick up the pieces. And that is bullshit. Because then new boy(girl)friend feels like they are competing, when they shouldn’t be. So, in order to preserve the new relationship, break-er has to tell break-ee they CAN’T be friends after all. Which in turn makes break-ee even MORE bitter and pissed off and dangerous – because who the hell is this new significant other anyway?? Who are THEY to tell your ex to stay away from you?? Bad, bad things can happen when these feelings arise.
Finally, we have the ever popular “friends with benefits” scenario, which is ok for some people, but not for me. Because there is usually one person involved who still considers this a relationship, even when it’s not. And in time, it winds up going the same route as above, when a new person enters the picture. Or, it winds up making you feel really sleazy. Since “hanging out” with someone on a regular basis that you KNOW you will never feel anything for is really wrong. Unless you work at the Mustang Ranch in Reno. But then you get paid.
So anyway, my point is this: No, Mr. South Side, we can NOT be friends. And honestly, I prefer my friends be able to carry on an intelligent conversation, anyway, and we all know THAT won’t happen. What does he really think this will accomplish? Harassing someone until they agree to be your friend is NOT a good way to go about things. I prefer to make a clean break and move on. (To what, I’m not sure yet.) But obviously Mr. South Side is not making that easy. Let’s see – last message Saturday at 1:51 pm, last phone call last night at 9:28 pm. Anyone care to place odds on when the next call comes in? Better yet – anyone care to guess what the next message will say???
Yes, he is calling again. The all-too-familiar Exorcist theme has been blasting from my phone on numerous occasions over the weekend. I had mentioned Friday’s call – SO obviously him. Then he called again on Saturday, this time leaving a message, asking how Roxy and I are doing (and since he has never even MET Roxy, this makes me nervous) and also asking me to call him back. Because we ARE still friends, right? WRONG!!! Wrong wrong wrong on SOOOOOOO many levels!! You know, when I was young and stupid, I firmly believed in the “let’s just be friends” principle. But as I got older, and wiser, I came to realize that for a guy and a girl who were once “together,” it is practically IMPOSSIBLE to be “just friends.”
Now, I say “practically” because I do happen to have one guy friend (yes, just one) that I used to date. And he dumped me and initially I was really bothered, but now I am grateful. Because we are definitely better “friends” material. Keep in mind, though, that we used to date like NINE years ago, and it took like FOUR of those nine years to get past all the “you stupid ass, how could you dump me?” feelings and move on to the “you know, I was really too good for you, anyway” feelings. (No offense, buddy!) I think it was after the girl he dumped ME for dumped HIM that I was able to see him in a different light. So once I got done gloating, we started talking more and actually, I can talk to him now about pretty much anything. With no “unrequited love” bullshit or tension whatsoever. Because we are both SOOO past our past. Which is nice. But DEFINITELY not the norm, if you know what I mean.
Normally what happens is when you end a relationship with the “let’s just be friends” line, MAJOR problems ensue. First of all, when someone breaks things off, the other party will sometimes have a hard time accepting this. Especially if it is sudden (at least, to the break-ee). And the “let’s be friends” line is a way of keeping hope alive. Because as a friend, you still have the opportunity to get that person drunk and seduce them, thus leading back to a relationship. Which will last until the other person wakes up sober and says “We really shouldn’t have done that.” At which point the break-ee usually gets all melancholy and tries to remind the break-er about all their good times together, and how well they get along – even though they are technically “just friends.” This is a mind game that ALWAYS ends badly. Trust me, I know. (Don’t ask HOW – it’s none of your business.)
Also, sometimes the “just friends” thing does work – temporarily. Until the break-er starts dating someone new. Which is always messy, because even if the break-ee is TOTALLY ok with this, new boyfriend or girlfriend usually isn’t. Let’s face it, no one wants to date someone whose ex is hanging around, being their “friend.” Because new boy(girl)friend KNOWS what is really up – that the ex who is now “just a friend” is REALLY waiting around for things to fall apart so they can pick up the pieces. And that is bullshit. Because then new boy(girl)friend feels like they are competing, when they shouldn’t be. So, in order to preserve the new relationship, break-er has to tell break-ee they CAN’T be friends after all. Which in turn makes break-ee even MORE bitter and pissed off and dangerous – because who the hell is this new significant other anyway?? Who are THEY to tell your ex to stay away from you?? Bad, bad things can happen when these feelings arise.
Finally, we have the ever popular “friends with benefits” scenario, which is ok for some people, but not for me. Because there is usually one person involved who still considers this a relationship, even when it’s not. And in time, it winds up going the same route as above, when a new person enters the picture. Or, it winds up making you feel really sleazy. Since “hanging out” with someone on a regular basis that you KNOW you will never feel anything for is really wrong. Unless you work at the Mustang Ranch in Reno. But then you get paid.
So anyway, my point is this: No, Mr. South Side, we can NOT be friends. And honestly, I prefer my friends be able to carry on an intelligent conversation, anyway, and we all know THAT won’t happen. What does he really think this will accomplish? Harassing someone until they agree to be your friend is NOT a good way to go about things. I prefer to make a clean break and move on. (To what, I’m not sure yet.) But obviously Mr. South Side is not making that easy. Let’s see – last message Saturday at 1:51 pm, last phone call last night at 9:28 pm. Anyone care to place odds on when the next call comes in? Better yet – anyone care to guess what the next message will say???
Friday, August 05, 2005
Busy Work
As I told you yesterday, Satan just left for vacation. Which means two weeks which should be relatively stress-free here in hell. Except for the fact that when I got in this morning, there was a three inch thick file on my desk with instructions to "organize these documents chronologically" and then "type out a database of the documents with specific details about each one." What the f***? How am I supposed to goof off and write my blog with THAT hanging over my head?? I seriously think that this little project will pretty much take up the whole two weeks. And the bitch of it is, he had me do basically the same thing LAST year when he went on vacation. Only I found my saved list from last year and apparently he wants more details this year. AND he totally shuffled around all the damn papers in the file. See now why we call him Satan?
Then I get a call from a current client who is totally blitzed (yes, at 8:45 AM) asking if he can sue the bar he was at last night because they TOTALLY overserved him and while walking home, he fell and "broke his face." It took about twenty minutes of listening to his incoherent rambling before I managed to explain to him that I would have to talk to the attorney and call him back. Then another ten or so minutes to get him to say goodbye and hang up. By the way - just in case you too are as clueless as he is - the answer is NO, you cannot sue a bar for serving you too much if you only hurt YOURSELF. Because if you could, there wouldn't be many bars left open for business.
So, here I am. I kind of looked at the file on my desk, and decided that it could wait for a few more minutes while I write. I keep hoping it will magically disappear or something. I mean, I had PLANS for these two weeks. I brought my portable tv to watch my soaps during the day and therefore have more time for evening reality tv (or the Cubs - whichever is less painful to watch), I have a couple books I've been meaning to catch up on, there are a few friends that I can call during the day - not to mention my blog. Now I have to do stupid "busy work." I can't believe I can't be trusted to keep myself busy. Unreal.
Oh, well. What do you do? Nada. Zilch. Zip. Deal with the man and collect your paycheck, that's what. I guess honestly I could probably finish the file from hell in a couple days if I just set my mind to it. But with my ADD, I doubt I'll be able to do that. So it probably WILL take up the whole two weeks.
Anyway. Enough complaining - even though I'm allowed to do that since this is, after all, MY blog. But anyway (again) - you are absolutely NOT going to believe what happened this morning. Ok, you probably will, but it sounds much more dramatic that way. My cell started ringing at 7:45 in the AM - turns out it was a call from a mysterious south side number. OF COURSE, I didn't answer it, and whoever it was didn't leave a message either. When I did a reverse look-up on the computer for the number in question, it turns out the locale of that number is in the epicenter of Mr. South Side-ville. Now, I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, I mean, it COULD have been just a wrong number, and an innocent mistake, but my gut tells me otherwise. My gut is telling me I have driven this poor sap to drink and he is now drunk-dialing me from his friend's house or wherever. AND my gut is telling me that maybe just tossing the tiki wasn't enough, that maybe I really DO need to find Vincent Price. Which would really suck, since the garbage men came Wednesday morning, so I would probably have to go to a damn landfill to find the thing. Either that, or just start getting used to the Exorcist theme again.
You know, the weirdest thing of all is that I almost MISS the drama. Almost. Hearing the phone playing his tune and wondering what psycho message would be in my voice mail kept me on my toes. Then I realize that stalkers are NOT supposed to be fun. And things usually end up badly with them too. So I guess I can just be happy with the drama on tv instead. Gee, I really seem to be rambling on today. See what happens when I am trying desperately to avoid work? At this rate, as long as that file is on my desk I could be cranking out DOZENS of interesting blogs. Hmmm. Imagine that. Well, I guess I'll sort a couple of pages for now and check back later.
Then I get a call from a current client who is totally blitzed (yes, at 8:45 AM) asking if he can sue the bar he was at last night because they TOTALLY overserved him and while walking home, he fell and "broke his face." It took about twenty minutes of listening to his incoherent rambling before I managed to explain to him that I would have to talk to the attorney and call him back. Then another ten or so minutes to get him to say goodbye and hang up. By the way - just in case you too are as clueless as he is - the answer is NO, you cannot sue a bar for serving you too much if you only hurt YOURSELF. Because if you could, there wouldn't be many bars left open for business.
So, here I am. I kind of looked at the file on my desk, and decided that it could wait for a few more minutes while I write. I keep hoping it will magically disappear or something. I mean, I had PLANS for these two weeks. I brought my portable tv to watch my soaps during the day and therefore have more time for evening reality tv (or the Cubs - whichever is less painful to watch), I have a couple books I've been meaning to catch up on, there are a few friends that I can call during the day - not to mention my blog. Now I have to do stupid "busy work." I can't believe I can't be trusted to keep myself busy. Unreal.
Oh, well. What do you do? Nada. Zilch. Zip. Deal with the man and collect your paycheck, that's what. I guess honestly I could probably finish the file from hell in a couple days if I just set my mind to it. But with my ADD, I doubt I'll be able to do that. So it probably WILL take up the whole two weeks.
Anyway. Enough complaining - even though I'm allowed to do that since this is, after all, MY blog. But anyway (again) - you are absolutely NOT going to believe what happened this morning. Ok, you probably will, but it sounds much more dramatic that way. My cell started ringing at 7:45 in the AM - turns out it was a call from a mysterious south side number. OF COURSE, I didn't answer it, and whoever it was didn't leave a message either. When I did a reverse look-up on the computer for the number in question, it turns out the locale of that number is in the epicenter of Mr. South Side-ville. Now, I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, I mean, it COULD have been just a wrong number, and an innocent mistake, but my gut tells me otherwise. My gut is telling me I have driven this poor sap to drink and he is now drunk-dialing me from his friend's house or wherever. AND my gut is telling me that maybe just tossing the tiki wasn't enough, that maybe I really DO need to find Vincent Price. Which would really suck, since the garbage men came Wednesday morning, so I would probably have to go to a damn landfill to find the thing. Either that, or just start getting used to the Exorcist theme again.
You know, the weirdest thing of all is that I almost MISS the drama. Almost. Hearing the phone playing his tune and wondering what psycho message would be in my voice mail kept me on my toes. Then I realize that stalkers are NOT supposed to be fun. And things usually end up badly with them too. So I guess I can just be happy with the drama on tv instead. Gee, I really seem to be rambling on today. See what happens when I am trying desperately to avoid work? At this rate, as long as that file is on my desk I could be cranking out DOZENS of interesting blogs. Hmmm. Imagine that. Well, I guess I'll sort a couple of pages for now and check back later.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Picture This
I am soooo excited!!! I finally figured out how to post my picture on my blog. Unlike most people, since I am doing this at work with a stupid NT system, I can’t get the proper photo hosting. But, being the genius that I am, I figured out another way. And voila! There I am, up in the corner. So now you can put a face to the words of wisdom you are reading.
But I must say, all that thinking and screwing around on the computer trying to figure out how to do this without getting caught by Satan has really worn me out. So now I need to take a break. He’s leaving for vacation soon, anyway, so I’ll have PLENTY of time to write over the next two weeks. And I promise, you won’t be disappointed!!
But I must say, all that thinking and screwing around on the computer trying to figure out how to do this without getting caught by Satan has really worn me out. So now I need to take a break. He’s leaving for vacation soon, anyway, so I’ll have PLENTY of time to write over the next two weeks. And I promise, you won’t be disappointed!!
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Is He In Jail?
Sometimes when I am sitting at my desk supposed to be working, I am actually surfing the net and basically being totally unproductive (surprise surprise). Of course, I always get the work done that I need to get done, it’s just that every now and then I need a little detour. Maybe I have attention deficit disorder, I don’t know. In any case, that’s what I was just doing, and I made an interesting discovery.
As you may or may not know, I have lead a somewhat colorful life. And I may not have always made the best decisions in my past. But in the end, I turned out ok – at least, I think so. The thing is, when you live as colorful a life as I have, if you can remember the names of people you used to hang out with back in the day, you can play a really fun game online. It’s called “Is He in Jail?” (Of course, it can also be called "Is SHE in Jail?" but to simplify, let's leave it as "He," ok?)
I discovered this game one day when I had to look up a potential defendant in an injury case I was working on. Suddenly it occurred to me that it might be interesting to type in the names of people I knew in the past, and find out (Cue cheesy game-show theme music) “Is He in Jail?” Initially, I typed in my own last name, just to make sure. Thankfully, I was not in jail, nor were any close relatives. For a while, I had a hard time even remembering any names of people who had the potential to be in jail, since my brain was pretty foggy back then, and to be honest, I’m not sure I even knew anyone’s last name. Actually, most people I knew back then only had nicknames… and I think typing in “T” or “Buddy” wouldn’t get me very far. So, I sat for a moment and tried to think of anyone I knew who seemed to be trouble while I was growing up.
As it turned out, a kid I went to grammar school with came to mind. He was a scrawny little guy with a major attitude. It was rumored that he was smoking pot as early as sixth grade, and although he wasn’t a tough guy, you just knew to stay away from him. Personally, I thought he was an ok guy, definitely a bit messed up, but he was always nice to me and the other geeks. So I started typing… BINGO! Apparently I was wrong about him – nice or not, he was serving numerous sentences for drugs, auto theft and burglary. Wow. And he looked exactly the same as he did in eighth grade. Except now he had tattoos. And according to his stats, he didn’t get much taller either. After finding one inmate, I was psyched to find more. But alas, I found no one.
Until today. I really hadn’t checked the site in a while, and found myself drawn there today. First I typed in Mr. South Side’s name: nothing. Which I already knew, since I just heard from him the other day. But when I typed in a couple more names, it turns out there are two guys I have dated who are not only ex-boyfriends, but ex-cons as well. Both are on parole, which is good for them, I guess. And both were arrested well AFTER they dropped out of my life, which is also good. But it was still pretty weird seeing their not-so-happy faces on the IDOC website. One was in for theft (no surprise there) and the other for a 2nd DUI. The DUI guy was a definite surprise, because as I scrolled down his rap sheet, I also saw a discharged sentence for involuntary manslaughter. From 1985. And I dated him in 1987. But I DO remember him telling me the whole sob story about a bad accident from a “barely over the limit” DUI that he could’ve gotten out of, but didn’t because of the enormous guilt. He had told me he did his time and when I knew him, he never drove ANYWHERE, drunk or otherwise. So seeing that he got this other DUI in 2003 was one of those “wow” moments.
As I said, both are now on parole, hopefully doing the next right thing. But it kind of blows my mind that such a sweet, mousy girl like me has not one but TWO ex-cons in her list of ex-boyfriends. (Stop laughing, you’ll choke.) And the psychotic tendencies of Mr. South Side lead me to believe there may be a third in the future.
I don’t really know what having this knowledge will do for me on any level, but I just think it’s something good to know. You know, to store away in the recesses of my mind in case the need ever arises. Like if maybe I get jumped by someone who has prison tats I can try to talk my way out of getting robbed or killed by saying, “Hey, did you happen to do time with so-and-so?” But knowing these two guys, they probably weren’t very high up on the hierarchy of power on their cell blocks. So maybe I’ll just keep the info to myself and hand over my purse if that happens. In the meantime, I highly recommend trying this fun game - just cut and paste the following link: http://www.idoc.state.il.us/subsections/search/default.asp
You never know what you’ll find.
As you may or may not know, I have lead a somewhat colorful life. And I may not have always made the best decisions in my past. But in the end, I turned out ok – at least, I think so. The thing is, when you live as colorful a life as I have, if you can remember the names of people you used to hang out with back in the day, you can play a really fun game online. It’s called “Is He in Jail?” (Of course, it can also be called "Is SHE in Jail?" but to simplify, let's leave it as "He," ok?)
I discovered this game one day when I had to look up a potential defendant in an injury case I was working on. Suddenly it occurred to me that it might be interesting to type in the names of people I knew in the past, and find out (Cue cheesy game-show theme music) “Is He in Jail?” Initially, I typed in my own last name, just to make sure. Thankfully, I was not in jail, nor were any close relatives. For a while, I had a hard time even remembering any names of people who had the potential to be in jail, since my brain was pretty foggy back then, and to be honest, I’m not sure I even knew anyone’s last name. Actually, most people I knew back then only had nicknames… and I think typing in “T” or “Buddy” wouldn’t get me very far. So, I sat for a moment and tried to think of anyone I knew who seemed to be trouble while I was growing up.
As it turned out, a kid I went to grammar school with came to mind. He was a scrawny little guy with a major attitude. It was rumored that he was smoking pot as early as sixth grade, and although he wasn’t a tough guy, you just knew to stay away from him. Personally, I thought he was an ok guy, definitely a bit messed up, but he was always nice to me and the other geeks. So I started typing… BINGO! Apparently I was wrong about him – nice or not, he was serving numerous sentences for drugs, auto theft and burglary. Wow. And he looked exactly the same as he did in eighth grade. Except now he had tattoos. And according to his stats, he didn’t get much taller either. After finding one inmate, I was psyched to find more. But alas, I found no one.
Until today. I really hadn’t checked the site in a while, and found myself drawn there today. First I typed in Mr. South Side’s name: nothing. Which I already knew, since I just heard from him the other day. But when I typed in a couple more names, it turns out there are two guys I have dated who are not only ex-boyfriends, but ex-cons as well. Both are on parole, which is good for them, I guess. And both were arrested well AFTER they dropped out of my life, which is also good. But it was still pretty weird seeing their not-so-happy faces on the IDOC website. One was in for theft (no surprise there) and the other for a 2nd DUI. The DUI guy was a definite surprise, because as I scrolled down his rap sheet, I also saw a discharged sentence for involuntary manslaughter. From 1985. And I dated him in 1987. But I DO remember him telling me the whole sob story about a bad accident from a “barely over the limit” DUI that he could’ve gotten out of, but didn’t because of the enormous guilt. He had told me he did his time and when I knew him, he never drove ANYWHERE, drunk or otherwise. So seeing that he got this other DUI in 2003 was one of those “wow” moments.
As I said, both are now on parole, hopefully doing the next right thing. But it kind of blows my mind that such a sweet, mousy girl like me has not one but TWO ex-cons in her list of ex-boyfriends. (Stop laughing, you’ll choke.) And the psychotic tendencies of Mr. South Side lead me to believe there may be a third in the future.
I don’t really know what having this knowledge will do for me on any level, but I just think it’s something good to know. You know, to store away in the recesses of my mind in case the need ever arises. Like if maybe I get jumped by someone who has prison tats I can try to talk my way out of getting robbed or killed by saying, “Hey, did you happen to do time with so-and-so?” But knowing these two guys, they probably weren’t very high up on the hierarchy of power on their cell blocks. So maybe I’ll just keep the info to myself and hand over my purse if that happens. In the meantime, I highly recommend trying this fun game - just cut and paste the following link: http://www.idoc.state.il.us/subsections/search/default.asp
You never know what you’ll find.
Tossing the Tiki
Well, it seems I was right about the tiki. Ever since I tossed that thing, my phone has been eerily quiet. Which is good, but after writing about Mr. South Side for so long, I am afraid I may not have anything else to write about! Ok, that's not really true. My mind is chock full of things to elaborate on in writing. So don't worry. But about the whole tiki thing - I'm thinking that since that worked so well, I may just toss the Money Tiki I have in my living room. Hell, maybe I'll wind up winning the lottery!
So now I am back to square one in my life: single mom, no boyfriend, crappy job, great daughter - and lots of tv to catch up on. I think this is just how it is meant to be. I know I am really bumming out a lot of my friends who are convinced that someday I will indeed find Mr. Wonderful when I say that, but oh well. It doesn't bother me, why should it bother them? Besides, since Roxy is turning 10 tomorrow, she will soon be entering the adolescent hell years, and I probably will be too exhausted to worry about men anyway.
You know what? My mind doesn't seem to be cooperating with me quite yet - I think it needs more time to warm up. So I'm going to make this blog short and sweet, and if I feel inspired later, will add a part two. But don't forget - KEEP AWAY FROM TIKIS.
So now I am back to square one in my life: single mom, no boyfriend, crappy job, great daughter - and lots of tv to catch up on. I think this is just how it is meant to be. I know I am really bumming out a lot of my friends who are convinced that someday I will indeed find Mr. Wonderful when I say that, but oh well. It doesn't bother me, why should it bother them? Besides, since Roxy is turning 10 tomorrow, she will soon be entering the adolescent hell years, and I probably will be too exhausted to worry about men anyway.
You know what? My mind doesn't seem to be cooperating with me quite yet - I think it needs more time to warm up. So I'm going to make this blog short and sweet, and if I feel inspired later, will add a part two. But don't forget - KEEP AWAY FROM TIKIS.
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