...if Carlos Zambrano went off on the rest of the Cubs (especially the bullpen) with an uzi or something. I mean, I love my Cubbies and all, but this is getting ridiculous! Give the big man a break!! He pitches his ass off AND hits a two run homer and can't even get the win??? SHEESH.
Oh, and? I don't care if the Cubs lose every game for the rest of the season - or even for the rest of the 21st century for that matter... they will forever have my undying loyalty. Because the White Sux? HATE EM. Even if they take a *gag* second World Championship, I will STILL hate them. No matter what I said back then. I must have been having a drug flashback or something to say something nice about those jerks. I hereby take back every decent thing I ever said about them.
For now, I will watch the end of this pathetic game and then probably slit my wrists, although I will definitely bleed Cubbie blue.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Sweet Dreams
So last night I went to see "The Break-Up" with my mom. I was expecting a comedy, you know, since it was Vince Vaughn and all, but it was actually kind of sad. I left the movie pretty bummed out. Not what I was planning. I mean, there were some really funny parts, but the basic premise really brought me down. Don't get me wrong, I liked the movie, but it was totally not your typical Vince Vaughn movie.
Anyway, I must have had Vince on my mind after the movie, because I had one hell of a dream last night. (Get your mind out of the gutters, people! It was a PG dream!!) Thought I would share it with you, since I remember it sooo clearly and it was a pretty interesting dream...
I was driving my car toward the neighborhood I grew up in, and my car was sounding kind of funny. So I pulled over, and popped the hood, fully intending to just put in some more oil since my car burns oil like crazy (actually, it probably leaks oil too...). So there I was, looking around in my trunk for some oil, when two good samaritans pull up. One was some girl, the other was Vince Vaughn.
I was trying to explain to them that I thought all I needed was some oil, but Vince would hear none of it. He insisted on taking the car to a service station to have it checked out. The girl was just looking under the hood and trying to look like she knew what she was doing. I think she just wanted to impress Vince. Well, I told him I could drive the car somewhere and it would be fine, and he told me not to worry, he had it under control. He took a garden hose out of the trunk of his car and tied his rear bumper to the front of my car. (Yes, I realize in real life this wouldn't work, but in real life, Vince Vaughn wouldn't try it, either.) So he tells me to hop in and off we go. The girl hopped in her car too, and was following us. Still don't know who she was or why she kept following us, but whatever.
We took the highway to my old neighborhood and when we exited, I told Vince he had to be careful and merge up ahead a little bit, but he drove completely over the median between the exit ramp and the lanes of the street, so I was like "OR, you can just drive over the median..." We came to a mechanic's shop that was a couple blocks away from the house I grew up in, and Vince untied my car and went in to talk to the guy. In the meantime, someone came out and was looking at the car Vince and I drove up in (which was some kind of pickup truck) and was shaking his head. Vince came out and was like, "NO! The Saturn, you idiot!" And then Vince looked at me and shrugged.
Vince and I sat down on the curb and started talking, and I was telling him about growing up in Chicago, and pointed out where Tastee Freeze used to be, and Burger Farm, and Arthur's Pharmacy, where my mom used to send me to buy her cigarettes with a note ("Please sell my daughter three packs of Winston. Thank you. Mrs. Dasi's Mom"). He and I laughed and talked about being young and how much times had changed. He was really cool, and I was having a really good time.
Then I had a great idea. I realized it was Thursday, and asked him if he had any plans for the rest of the day. He said no, and I asked him if he played softball. He looked at me like I was crazy, and said "Are you kidding me? Do I play softball?" So I told him about my brother's softball team, Speaker City, and how they could really use the help. That maybe at the very least, his presence would distract the other team enough to allow them to win their first game in almost two seasons. He thought that sounded like a great idea, and promised he would play.
The he got up and went to talk to the mechanic, who was entering a whole bunch of numbers into this computer. All of a sudden, I realized it was like 6:00 am, and I had gotten no sleep the night before, and also had to go to work. I didn't want to use another vacation day, but figured I might have to, especially if I wanted to be awake enough to see Vince play softball that night.
While I was pondering the situation, a police officer came up and informed me that my license plate sticker was gone. Apparently the girl who was hanging around with us peeled it off - why, I have no idea. But Vince told me not to worry, that he would get me another one. Then the mechanic told me it would cost $9,435.00 to totally fix my car. I almost choked, and said there was no way I could afford that, but again, Vince said don't worry, he would cover it. I almost wanted to ask Vince if he could just buy me a new car instead, but I thought that would be rude.
So they fixed my car and I had Vince call my work and leave a message saying I wouldn't be in. He gave me $1000 and told me that should cover any pay I missed. Said I was a nice person and he really enjoyed spending time with me. We decided to both go home and sleep and he said he would call me later (we exchanged cell phone numbers) so we could meet up and go to softball. I was really excited, and couldn't wait to surprise my brother and his teammates with Vince Vaughn.
Funny thing is, when I was driving home to go to sleep in my dream, I woke up in real life. I was pretty bummed out when I realized it was a dream, I had a really good time with Vince. I checked my cell, but alas, his number isn't programmed into it in real life. (That would've been really cool if it was, though - you know, kind of "dream life crossing over to reality" and all...) And the worst part of all? Speaker City is going to have to figure out a way to win without Vince. Any ringers out there who are free on Thursday nights?
Anyway, I must have had Vince on my mind after the movie, because I had one hell of a dream last night. (Get your mind out of the gutters, people! It was a PG dream!!) Thought I would share it with you, since I remember it sooo clearly and it was a pretty interesting dream...
I was driving my car toward the neighborhood I grew up in, and my car was sounding kind of funny. So I pulled over, and popped the hood, fully intending to just put in some more oil since my car burns oil like crazy (actually, it probably leaks oil too...). So there I was, looking around in my trunk for some oil, when two good samaritans pull up. One was some girl, the other was Vince Vaughn.
I was trying to explain to them that I thought all I needed was some oil, but Vince would hear none of it. He insisted on taking the car to a service station to have it checked out. The girl was just looking under the hood and trying to look like she knew what she was doing. I think she just wanted to impress Vince. Well, I told him I could drive the car somewhere and it would be fine, and he told me not to worry, he had it under control. He took a garden hose out of the trunk of his car and tied his rear bumper to the front of my car. (Yes, I realize in real life this wouldn't work, but in real life, Vince Vaughn wouldn't try it, either.) So he tells me to hop in and off we go. The girl hopped in her car too, and was following us. Still don't know who she was or why she kept following us, but whatever.
We took the highway to my old neighborhood and when we exited, I told Vince he had to be careful and merge up ahead a little bit, but he drove completely over the median between the exit ramp and the lanes of the street, so I was like "OR, you can just drive over the median..." We came to a mechanic's shop that was a couple blocks away from the house I grew up in, and Vince untied my car and went in to talk to the guy. In the meantime, someone came out and was looking at the car Vince and I drove up in (which was some kind of pickup truck) and was shaking his head. Vince came out and was like, "NO! The Saturn, you idiot!" And then Vince looked at me and shrugged.
Vince and I sat down on the curb and started talking, and I was telling him about growing up in Chicago, and pointed out where Tastee Freeze used to be, and Burger Farm, and Arthur's Pharmacy, where my mom used to send me to buy her cigarettes with a note ("Please sell my daughter three packs of Winston. Thank you. Mrs. Dasi's Mom"). He and I laughed and talked about being young and how much times had changed. He was really cool, and I was having a really good time.
Then I had a great idea. I realized it was Thursday, and asked him if he had any plans for the rest of the day. He said no, and I asked him if he played softball. He looked at me like I was crazy, and said "Are you kidding me? Do I play softball?" So I told him about my brother's softball team, Speaker City, and how they could really use the help. That maybe at the very least, his presence would distract the other team enough to allow them to win their first game in almost two seasons. He thought that sounded like a great idea, and promised he would play.
The he got up and went to talk to the mechanic, who was entering a whole bunch of numbers into this computer. All of a sudden, I realized it was like 6:00 am, and I had gotten no sleep the night before, and also had to go to work. I didn't want to use another vacation day, but figured I might have to, especially if I wanted to be awake enough to see Vince play softball that night.
While I was pondering the situation, a police officer came up and informed me that my license plate sticker was gone. Apparently the girl who was hanging around with us peeled it off - why, I have no idea. But Vince told me not to worry, that he would get me another one. Then the mechanic told me it would cost $9,435.00 to totally fix my car. I almost choked, and said there was no way I could afford that, but again, Vince said don't worry, he would cover it. I almost wanted to ask Vince if he could just buy me a new car instead, but I thought that would be rude.
So they fixed my car and I had Vince call my work and leave a message saying I wouldn't be in. He gave me $1000 and told me that should cover any pay I missed. Said I was a nice person and he really enjoyed spending time with me. We decided to both go home and sleep and he said he would call me later (we exchanged cell phone numbers) so we could meet up and go to softball. I was really excited, and couldn't wait to surprise my brother and his teammates with Vince Vaughn.
Funny thing is, when I was driving home to go to sleep in my dream, I woke up in real life. I was pretty bummed out when I realized it was a dream, I had a really good time with Vince. I checked my cell, but alas, his number isn't programmed into it in real life. (That would've been really cool if it was, though - you know, kind of "dream life crossing over to reality" and all...) And the worst part of all? Speaker City is going to have to figure out a way to win without Vince. Any ringers out there who are free on Thursday nights?
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The Beginning of the End, Part 31
I woke up the next morning and for a brief moment forgot where I was. I half expected Snuffy to jump up next to me, tail wagging, and hear my mom in the kitchen. Instead, Kevin shifted next to me and the room was silent.
I looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was already after ten. With a yawn, I got out of bed and got dressed. Kevin slept on. I turned on the tv and watched some mindless talk show, more to put off making the phone calls I knew had to be made than for the so-called entertainment. Finally, I stood up.
“Kevin,” I said, poking him.
He grunted and pulled the covers over his head.
I sighed. “Come on, Kev! Listen to me. I have to go call Nancy and work. What time do you go in today?”
“Not until 3:30,” came the muffled response. “Wake me at two.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Whatever.”
I grabbed some change off the dresser and rummaged through my purse for Nancy’s card and the Olive Garden’s number. Once I was sure I had both, I quietly slipped out of the room and into the bright sunshine.
It was chilly out, not exactly freezing, but still cold enough to make me shiver. Or was I shivering from nerves? It was hard to tell. I hadn’t talked to Nancy since well before I left for the holidays, and wondered if anything had changed. I was also nervous about calling Gregg. I knew he understood the situation, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the looks and reactions of my coworkers. Then again, it would be good to get back into the routine of working and get my mind off everything else.
I decided to call Nancy first, and as my fingers punched in the numbers my mind raced. You could just never call her again, I thought. You could just pretend nothing ever happened. I shoved the thoughts out of my head as I waited for her to answer. I could never pretend nothing happened.
“Nancy Lewis.”
“Nancy? It’s me, Dasi,” I said into the phone shakily. “I’m back. I was just calling to, you know, check in…”
Nancy’s voice went from official to soothing. “Hey, Dasi, did you have a nice holiday?”
My heart started to slow down a bit. “Yes, I did. And you?”
“Really nice,” she replied.
I knew she was trying to distract me, that she sensed my nervousness somehow over the phone. And it was working. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke, and then Nancy spoke again.
“He’s still in jail, Dasi.”
I let out a huge breath of air I didn’t realize I had been holding. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t thank me, I have nothing to do with it. It’s you who had the courage to have him locked up,” she said matter-of-factly.
“What about trial? You said you’d try to speed things up,” I inquired.
“I’m working on that. Probably won’t be for at least a month or so. Maybe a bit longer. But keep checking in, and if I need you…” she broke off.
“Call the Olive Garden. They can get a message to me,” I replied. I read her the number off the slip of paper I had it written on and gave her Gregg’s name.
“Ok, then,” she said. “Got it. And Dasi?”
“Yeah?”
“Hang in there.”
I smiled. “I will, thanks.”
I hung up the phone and took a few seconds to let her words sink in. He was still in jail. I was so relieved to hear that. I knew it was ridiculous to think he knew where I lived or anything else about me, but it still scared me to imagine him walking around free in the same city. But I didn’t have to worry, at least, not now.
My call to Olive Garden went well, too. Gregg was very kind, and very understanding, and told me there was a shift open for lunch the next day. He said that once I finished that, we could sit down and figure out how to fit me in for the rest of the week. I thanked him and told him I was anxious to come back.
“We missed you, Dasi,” he replied. “It will be good to have you back.”
I nodded to myself. It would be good to be back. I just wanted things to go back to normal. Or as normal as they could get.
I stopped at a fast food place and picked up some lunch for Kevin and I. I knew he got a free meal at work, but I was hungry and didn’t want to eat alone. When I walked into the room, Kevin was still asleep.
I plopped the bag of chicken wings on the table and took off my coat. “Hey!” I said loudly, turning the tv back on.
“Is it two already?” he groaned.
“No, but I got wings. Wake up, or I’ll eat them all myself.”
He flipped the covers off him and reached for his glasses. With a big yawn, he ambled over next to me and sat down at the table.
“How did it go?” he asked, grabbing a wing.
I filled him in on the phone calls, and made him promise there would be no partying tonight. And no company. I wanted my first day back to go smoothly – and I wanted to be well rested too. He nodded solemnly.
“I swear,” he said between bites. “I’m off at 11:30, why don’t you meet me at the casino and remind me?”
I grinned. “You big jerk. You bet I’ll remind you! I’ll be there with a leash to walk you home,” I threatened.
Kevin laughed. “Seriously. I promise. No partying, no company. And I was kidding – you don’t have to meet me, I’ll come straight home.”
“Because you have to drive me to work in the morning,” I added.
Kevin’s face clouded with concern at the fear in my voice. “Babe, you just said he was still in jail. You’re safe.”
“I know,” I replied. “I mean, logically, I know. But I just have a bad feeling.”
Kevin leaned over and kissed me gently. “I’ll drive you. I’ll watch you walk in. And I’ll come back to pick you up. You’ll be safe.”
I hated the constant fear that lurked in the back of my head. I hated feeling weak and vulnerable. The tears threatened to come, but I took a deep breath and held them back. I nodded vigorously and then turned to the tv. We finished eating in silence, watching some therapist trying to save an already doomed marriage.
When Kevin left for work, I decided to take a nap. I woke up and it was dark outside. I changed the channel on the tv and tried to get engrossed in a made-for-tv movie. At eleven I watched the news, and when it ended, I kept watching the door.
Canned laughter came from the tv as one of the late-night hosts mocked the celebrity du jour. But I couldn’t focus on the words, I just kept watching the door.
At 11:45, the doorknob turned. Kevin walked in slowly, then saw me sitting up in bed, waiting. He smiled.
“What are you doing up? You have a big day tomorrow,” he said, tossing his tie and change apron on the chair. He came and sat next to me on the bed.
“I just wanted…” I stopped. I didn’t want to tell him I was afraid he’d forget, that he’d pick up some shit and bring home strangers again. That I wanted to make sure he came home.
“I know what you wanted,” he replied. “That’s why I’m here. It’s late, let’s go to bed.”
He stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed next to me. I turned the tv off and set the alarm. I felt Kevin’s arms around me and I snuggled closer. We both fell asleep peacefully. And I felt safe.
My sleep was dreamless and deep, as if my body knew I would need all my energy for the day to come. Because it was a day that would push my emotions to the breaking point. Only, I didn’t know it yet.
I looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was already after ten. With a yawn, I got out of bed and got dressed. Kevin slept on. I turned on the tv and watched some mindless talk show, more to put off making the phone calls I knew had to be made than for the so-called entertainment. Finally, I stood up.
“Kevin,” I said, poking him.
He grunted and pulled the covers over his head.
I sighed. “Come on, Kev! Listen to me. I have to go call Nancy and work. What time do you go in today?”
“Not until 3:30,” came the muffled response. “Wake me at two.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Whatever.”
I grabbed some change off the dresser and rummaged through my purse for Nancy’s card and the Olive Garden’s number. Once I was sure I had both, I quietly slipped out of the room and into the bright sunshine.
It was chilly out, not exactly freezing, but still cold enough to make me shiver. Or was I shivering from nerves? It was hard to tell. I hadn’t talked to Nancy since well before I left for the holidays, and wondered if anything had changed. I was also nervous about calling Gregg. I knew he understood the situation, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the looks and reactions of my coworkers. Then again, it would be good to get back into the routine of working and get my mind off everything else.
I decided to call Nancy first, and as my fingers punched in the numbers my mind raced. You could just never call her again, I thought. You could just pretend nothing ever happened. I shoved the thoughts out of my head as I waited for her to answer. I could never pretend nothing happened.
“Nancy Lewis.”
“Nancy? It’s me, Dasi,” I said into the phone shakily. “I’m back. I was just calling to, you know, check in…”
Nancy’s voice went from official to soothing. “Hey, Dasi, did you have a nice holiday?”
My heart started to slow down a bit. “Yes, I did. And you?”
“Really nice,” she replied.
I knew she was trying to distract me, that she sensed my nervousness somehow over the phone. And it was working. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke, and then Nancy spoke again.
“He’s still in jail, Dasi.”
I let out a huge breath of air I didn’t realize I had been holding. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t thank me, I have nothing to do with it. It’s you who had the courage to have him locked up,” she said matter-of-factly.
“What about trial? You said you’d try to speed things up,” I inquired.
“I’m working on that. Probably won’t be for at least a month or so. Maybe a bit longer. But keep checking in, and if I need you…” she broke off.
“Call the Olive Garden. They can get a message to me,” I replied. I read her the number off the slip of paper I had it written on and gave her Gregg’s name.
“Ok, then,” she said. “Got it. And Dasi?”
“Yeah?”
“Hang in there.”
I smiled. “I will, thanks.”
I hung up the phone and took a few seconds to let her words sink in. He was still in jail. I was so relieved to hear that. I knew it was ridiculous to think he knew where I lived or anything else about me, but it still scared me to imagine him walking around free in the same city. But I didn’t have to worry, at least, not now.
My call to Olive Garden went well, too. Gregg was very kind, and very understanding, and told me there was a shift open for lunch the next day. He said that once I finished that, we could sit down and figure out how to fit me in for the rest of the week. I thanked him and told him I was anxious to come back.
“We missed you, Dasi,” he replied. “It will be good to have you back.”
I nodded to myself. It would be good to be back. I just wanted things to go back to normal. Or as normal as they could get.
I stopped at a fast food place and picked up some lunch for Kevin and I. I knew he got a free meal at work, but I was hungry and didn’t want to eat alone. When I walked into the room, Kevin was still asleep.
I plopped the bag of chicken wings on the table and took off my coat. “Hey!” I said loudly, turning the tv back on.
“Is it two already?” he groaned.
“No, but I got wings. Wake up, or I’ll eat them all myself.”
He flipped the covers off him and reached for his glasses. With a big yawn, he ambled over next to me and sat down at the table.
“How did it go?” he asked, grabbing a wing.
I filled him in on the phone calls, and made him promise there would be no partying tonight. And no company. I wanted my first day back to go smoothly – and I wanted to be well rested too. He nodded solemnly.
“I swear,” he said between bites. “I’m off at 11:30, why don’t you meet me at the casino and remind me?”
I grinned. “You big jerk. You bet I’ll remind you! I’ll be there with a leash to walk you home,” I threatened.
Kevin laughed. “Seriously. I promise. No partying, no company. And I was kidding – you don’t have to meet me, I’ll come straight home.”
“Because you have to drive me to work in the morning,” I added.
Kevin’s face clouded with concern at the fear in my voice. “Babe, you just said he was still in jail. You’re safe.”
“I know,” I replied. “I mean, logically, I know. But I just have a bad feeling.”
Kevin leaned over and kissed me gently. “I’ll drive you. I’ll watch you walk in. And I’ll come back to pick you up. You’ll be safe.”
I hated the constant fear that lurked in the back of my head. I hated feeling weak and vulnerable. The tears threatened to come, but I took a deep breath and held them back. I nodded vigorously and then turned to the tv. We finished eating in silence, watching some therapist trying to save an already doomed marriage.
When Kevin left for work, I decided to take a nap. I woke up and it was dark outside. I changed the channel on the tv and tried to get engrossed in a made-for-tv movie. At eleven I watched the news, and when it ended, I kept watching the door.
Canned laughter came from the tv as one of the late-night hosts mocked the celebrity du jour. But I couldn’t focus on the words, I just kept watching the door.
At 11:45, the doorknob turned. Kevin walked in slowly, then saw me sitting up in bed, waiting. He smiled.
“What are you doing up? You have a big day tomorrow,” he said, tossing his tie and change apron on the chair. He came and sat next to me on the bed.
“I just wanted…” I stopped. I didn’t want to tell him I was afraid he’d forget, that he’d pick up some shit and bring home strangers again. That I wanted to make sure he came home.
“I know what you wanted,” he replied. “That’s why I’m here. It’s late, let’s go to bed.”
He stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed next to me. I turned the tv off and set the alarm. I felt Kevin’s arms around me and I snuggled closer. We both fell asleep peacefully. And I felt safe.
My sleep was dreamless and deep, as if my body knew I would need all my energy for the day to come. Because it was a day that would push my emotions to the breaking point. Only, I didn’t know it yet.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Eye Don't THINK So!!
So yesterday my loving angelic little girl told me she hated me. Actually, I think her exact quote was something like, “I really HATE you, mom! And I KNOW that ‘hate’ is a strong word, but THAT’S why I’m using it! Because I HATE you!”
My reaction? I rolled my eyes and told her that she could hate me all she wants, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. So she stormed off to her room (which is a complete pigsty, personally I wouldn’t want to storm off to a place like that) and turned on KISS-FM (the teenybopper station du jour).
I guess I need to add some backstory here, huh? See, she dog-sat for cute neighbor this weekend. Which we have done before. It pretty much only includes walking Steeler a few times a day and making sure she has plenty of food and water. She doesn’t stay in our place for the whole weekend, my boys don’t appreciate the intrusion. But Lexie does let her hang out with us when we are just sitting around. Well, cute neighbor had called me before his weekend jaunt, and told me he planned on paying Lexie for her trouble. I did the old “oh-that’s-not-necessary” spiel, but he insisted, saying he’d be paying a lot more at a kennel, and besides, Lexie was earning it. True that, so I said that was fine, and I’m sure Lexie would appreciate it.
So last night cute neighbor knocks on our door (we didn’t see him when he got home Sunday – our paths kind of crossed) and he thanks Lexie and gives her $20. Which is a fortune to my daughter. She politely said thank you, and I could already hear the wheels spinning in her head as she figured out what to spend it on (a saver she is not – bad habit obviously inherited from her mother). Cute neighbor then leaves to walk Steeler, and I shut the door behind him. Lexie was all excited about her windfall, and I told her I knew cute neighbor was going to pay her, and I told him it was ok.
Then began my transformation from “awesome mom” to “evil mom.”
“Now I can buy my own makeup!” my not-quite-eleven-year-old-and-only-going-into-sixth-grade daughter said happily.
Ok, hold up here. I thought maybe I was hearing things, but then she continued.
“I have enough to get lipgloss and eyeshadow!”
I snorted. “Um, lipgloss, ok – but you are NOT getting eyeshadow.”
She looked at me like I had just grown a second head. “What?”
“I said, you are not getting eyeshadow. Lipgloss is fine, but you are not allowed to wear eyeshadow.”
“WHY NOT?”
“Because I said so.” (My favorite response EVER. It has sooo been worth having a daughter just so I can say it to her on a regular basis.)
“But everyone wears eyeshadow! It’s not like I want mascara or eyeliner!” she whined.
Ok – what? Am I to understand that mascara and/or eyeliner are somehow worse than trampy colors on my daughter’s innocent eyelids? (Not that I would let her wear those, either, of course.)
She took my silence to be acquiescence.
“So – I can get the eyeshadow?”
“No!”
“MOOOOOM!! Ok, fine, but when I go to seventh grade I will, because EVERYONE in seventh grade wears it,” she said arrogantly.
“Everyone but you, you mean. No eyeshadow. Period. Not even in seventh grade.”
“BUT WHYYYYYYYY?”
“Because it’s not necessary! You’re only ten, for chrissakes!”
“Almost eleven,” she pouted.
“I. Don’t. Care. No eyeshadow.”
Then we went through the “everyone else is” phase (over and over and over) until I asked, “Do Rachel’s parents let her wear eyeshadow?”
“Rachel has eyeshadow,” she quickly replied.
“I didn’t ask if she has it, I asked if her parents let her wear it outside the house.”
No answer from Lexie.
(See, I know Rachel’s parents well. And there is no way in HELL they would let her wear makeup outside the house. They are stricter than I am, which I love. Because every parent needs a scapegoat – someone to make their kid realize their parent isn’t the ONLY horrible one.)
“Well, WHATEVER. But she has it,” she complained.
“Fine,” I said. “You can buy eyeshadow. But you can only wear it in the house.”
“Fine,” she said quickly - erroneously smelling victory.
“AND the eyeshadow doesn’t leave this house, either,” I added.
“MOM!!” she wailed, knowing her plan to bring said eyeshadow to camp or school or wherever and apply it sans mom knowing just went up in smoke.
“Them’s the rules,” I said smugly.
Which brings us full circle.
“I really HATE you, mom! And I KNOW that ‘hate’ is a strong word, but THAT’S why I’m using it! Because I HATE you!”
All because of eyeshadow. Go figure. I mentioned the tiff to my brother, and said thoughtfully, “I don’t remember wanting to wear makeup at ten…”
He responded that he didn’t think he wanted to wear makeup at ten either. Thank God, because if he had I probably wouldn’t have a nephew right now.
Ahhh, the joys of motherhood.
My reaction? I rolled my eyes and told her that she could hate me all she wants, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. So she stormed off to her room (which is a complete pigsty, personally I wouldn’t want to storm off to a place like that) and turned on KISS-FM (the teenybopper station du jour).
I guess I need to add some backstory here, huh? See, she dog-sat for cute neighbor this weekend. Which we have done before. It pretty much only includes walking Steeler a few times a day and making sure she has plenty of food and water. She doesn’t stay in our place for the whole weekend, my boys don’t appreciate the intrusion. But Lexie does let her hang out with us when we are just sitting around. Well, cute neighbor had called me before his weekend jaunt, and told me he planned on paying Lexie for her trouble. I did the old “oh-that’s-not-necessary” spiel, but he insisted, saying he’d be paying a lot more at a kennel, and besides, Lexie was earning it. True that, so I said that was fine, and I’m sure Lexie would appreciate it.
So last night cute neighbor knocks on our door (we didn’t see him when he got home Sunday – our paths kind of crossed) and he thanks Lexie and gives her $20. Which is a fortune to my daughter. She politely said thank you, and I could already hear the wheels spinning in her head as she figured out what to spend it on (a saver she is not – bad habit obviously inherited from her mother). Cute neighbor then leaves to walk Steeler, and I shut the door behind him. Lexie was all excited about her windfall, and I told her I knew cute neighbor was going to pay her, and I told him it was ok.
Then began my transformation from “awesome mom” to “evil mom.”
“Now I can buy my own makeup!” my not-quite-eleven-year-old-and-only-going-into-sixth-grade daughter said happily.
Ok, hold up here. I thought maybe I was hearing things, but then she continued.
“I have enough to get lipgloss and eyeshadow!”
I snorted. “Um, lipgloss, ok – but you are NOT getting eyeshadow.”
She looked at me like I had just grown a second head. “What?”
“I said, you are not getting eyeshadow. Lipgloss is fine, but you are not allowed to wear eyeshadow.”
“WHY NOT?”
“Because I said so.” (My favorite response EVER. It has sooo been worth having a daughter just so I can say it to her on a regular basis.)
“But everyone wears eyeshadow! It’s not like I want mascara or eyeliner!” she whined.
Ok – what? Am I to understand that mascara and/or eyeliner are somehow worse than trampy colors on my daughter’s innocent eyelids? (Not that I would let her wear those, either, of course.)
She took my silence to be acquiescence.
“So – I can get the eyeshadow?”
“No!”
“MOOOOOM!! Ok, fine, but when I go to seventh grade I will, because EVERYONE in seventh grade wears it,” she said arrogantly.
“Everyone but you, you mean. No eyeshadow. Period. Not even in seventh grade.”
“BUT WHYYYYYYYY?”
“Because it’s not necessary! You’re only ten, for chrissakes!”
“Almost eleven,” she pouted.
“I. Don’t. Care. No eyeshadow.”
Then we went through the “everyone else is” phase (over and over and over) until I asked, “Do Rachel’s parents let her wear eyeshadow?”
“Rachel has eyeshadow,” she quickly replied.
“I didn’t ask if she has it, I asked if her parents let her wear it outside the house.”
No answer from Lexie.
(See, I know Rachel’s parents well. And there is no way in HELL they would let her wear makeup outside the house. They are stricter than I am, which I love. Because every parent needs a scapegoat – someone to make their kid realize their parent isn’t the ONLY horrible one.)
“Well, WHATEVER. But she has it,” she complained.
“Fine,” I said. “You can buy eyeshadow. But you can only wear it in the house.”
“Fine,” she said quickly - erroneously smelling victory.
“AND the eyeshadow doesn’t leave this house, either,” I added.
“MOM!!” she wailed, knowing her plan to bring said eyeshadow to camp or school or wherever and apply it sans mom knowing just went up in smoke.
“Them’s the rules,” I said smugly.
Which brings us full circle.
“I really HATE you, mom! And I KNOW that ‘hate’ is a strong word, but THAT’S why I’m using it! Because I HATE you!”
All because of eyeshadow. Go figure. I mentioned the tiff to my brother, and said thoughtfully, “I don’t remember wanting to wear makeup at ten…”
He responded that he didn’t think he wanted to wear makeup at ten either. Thank God, because if he had I probably wouldn’t have a nephew right now.
Ahhh, the joys of motherhood.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Thanks, Guys!!
I just wanted to take a minute to say THANK YOU to all of you who have been reading forever, and also those of you who are “new.” It seems that lately TBOTE has been getting a lot more attention, and it is really making me feel good. Nothing like a big ego boost to brighten your day. To be honest, the whole thing kind of snowballed, but now I’m glad it did. Why? Because for as long as I can remember I wanted to be a published author, but I never had the discipline to put the words to paper – or if I did, I would write a page or two and forget about it. You all have kept me on track with your comments and kind words, and if by some miracle anything big does come out of my ramblings – it’s because of my cyberpals.
Anyway, Satan for whatever reason has been spending way too much time in the office lately (usually looking over my shoulder or piling files on my desk – the nerve!) which is my excuse for being so sporadic in my posts. But rest assured, Chapter 31 is in the works. Unfortunately, I must keep this short, for the above mentioned reason. I hope all you dads have a great Father’s Day, and everyone has a wonderful weekend!
Anyway, Satan for whatever reason has been spending way too much time in the office lately (usually looking over my shoulder or piling files on my desk – the nerve!) which is my excuse for being so sporadic in my posts. But rest assured, Chapter 31 is in the works. Unfortunately, I must keep this short, for the above mentioned reason. I hope all you dads have a great Father’s Day, and everyone has a wonderful weekend!
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
End of a Not-That-Long Era
Yes, dear readers, it is a sad day in the town of Schaumburg, IL. Maybe not for any of you, but believe me it certainly is for many four-legged, fluffy (and some not-so-fluffy) creatures in the ‘hood.
Squirreltopia is no more.
After many hours, nay, DAYS of internal conflict, I came to the realization that it is time to stop shelling out (HA! Get it? “shelling out?” HA!) peanuts to the scores of skwerls who have come from miles around for the free chow. There were several reasons behind my decision, but I think the biggest one was that lately there seem to have been an unnaturally high number of little tiny black buggies wandering aimlessly in the carpet by my balcony door. And though it may be unfair to blame said skwerls for this phenomena (actually, several women at Curves told me they too have seen more of these annoying yet harmless buggies around their homes lately as well – and they don’t feed skwerls), I am blaming them anyway. Besides, I’ve seen them scratching themselves furiously on more than one occasion. As far as I’m concerned, they must be scratching those buggies off themselves and onto the pretty green outdoor carpet I have on the floor of my balcony, thus giving them the opportunity to march across that carpet into my home. And although the cats find hours of amusement pawing at these tiny insects as they stroll along my living room floor, I am not amused at all. So that is big reason #1.
Big reason #2 is that our condo association basically threatened anyone who fed wild animals in any common areas. Financially threatened. Like “$50-per-offense” threatened. And although I’m not sure if “per offense” means per time they actually see you putting food out or per time they see wild animals eating food put out or ever per damn peanut, $50 in and of itself is way too much to pay to keep the skwerls happy. Actually, though I had initially reasoned that since my balcony isn’t a “common area” they had no right to fine me, it did eventually occur to me that some of those shells may actually fall down onto the grass below, which is a common area. Of course, the woman from the property management company hates my guts too, so she would probably fine me just to be a bitch.
Big reason #3 is because Lexie pointed out that we would probably save a lot of money if we stopped buying peanuts. Now, to a kid, $4.59 for a 5 lb bag of peanuts is a lot of money. To me, not so much. But when you figure that we’re pretty much going through 2-3 bags a week feeding Rusty and all his pals, even I have to admit those damn skwerls are taking a nice chunk of change out of my paycheck.
Sooooo, I have been keeping the balcony blinds closed and yesterday I leaf-sucker-upper-ed all the peanut shells and washed the outdoor chairs that the skwerls jumped on and rolled up the now-not-so-pretty green carpet (which, by the way, smelled strongly of skwerl pee – how rude!!) and then hosed down the entire balcony. (Side note – it really sucks having to run a garden hose through your living room to reach the balcony since the water spout is NOWHERE NEAR your balcony, but instead is in front of the building connected to yours… and now I have a puddle near the balcony doors…) Basically now my balcony looks like total crap. Because the paint is all peeling and there are still some shells wedged between the cracks in the wood. BUT – it is no longer Squirreltopia. (And supposedly the association is painting the balconies sometime this summer. Let’s just hope it is soon.)
My only fear is that the skwerls will get pissed off and start to try to get into my home to find out where their free food went. You know, since I already have duct tape over the one hole in the screen door from when I went away for a weekend. But I have a plan. I will train my cats to guard the door and attack any skwerls trying to gain entry. Ok, maybe I’ll just train Ace, since Baby is diabetic and too fat to catch a skwerl anyway.
So there you have it. The end of a not-that-long era. One I know my brother is glad to see go, since skwerls still scare him. And actually, after finding this website, I can almost see why…
Squirreltopia is no more.
After many hours, nay, DAYS of internal conflict, I came to the realization that it is time to stop shelling out (HA! Get it? “shelling out?” HA!) peanuts to the scores of skwerls who have come from miles around for the free chow. There were several reasons behind my decision, but I think the biggest one was that lately there seem to have been an unnaturally high number of little tiny black buggies wandering aimlessly in the carpet by my balcony door. And though it may be unfair to blame said skwerls for this phenomena (actually, several women at Curves told me they too have seen more of these annoying yet harmless buggies around their homes lately as well – and they don’t feed skwerls), I am blaming them anyway. Besides, I’ve seen them scratching themselves furiously on more than one occasion. As far as I’m concerned, they must be scratching those buggies off themselves and onto the pretty green outdoor carpet I have on the floor of my balcony, thus giving them the opportunity to march across that carpet into my home. And although the cats find hours of amusement pawing at these tiny insects as they stroll along my living room floor, I am not amused at all. So that is big reason #1.
Big reason #2 is that our condo association basically threatened anyone who fed wild animals in any common areas. Financially threatened. Like “$50-per-offense” threatened. And although I’m not sure if “per offense” means per time they actually see you putting food out or per time they see wild animals eating food put out or ever per damn peanut, $50 in and of itself is way too much to pay to keep the skwerls happy. Actually, though I had initially reasoned that since my balcony isn’t a “common area” they had no right to fine me, it did eventually occur to me that some of those shells may actually fall down onto the grass below, which is a common area. Of course, the woman from the property management company hates my guts too, so she would probably fine me just to be a bitch.
Big reason #3 is because Lexie pointed out that we would probably save a lot of money if we stopped buying peanuts. Now, to a kid, $4.59 for a 5 lb bag of peanuts is a lot of money. To me, not so much. But when you figure that we’re pretty much going through 2-3 bags a week feeding Rusty and all his pals, even I have to admit those damn skwerls are taking a nice chunk of change out of my paycheck.
Sooooo, I have been keeping the balcony blinds closed and yesterday I leaf-sucker-upper-ed all the peanut shells and washed the outdoor chairs that the skwerls jumped on and rolled up the now-not-so-pretty green carpet (which, by the way, smelled strongly of skwerl pee – how rude!!) and then hosed down the entire balcony. (Side note – it really sucks having to run a garden hose through your living room to reach the balcony since the water spout is NOWHERE NEAR your balcony, but instead is in front of the building connected to yours… and now I have a puddle near the balcony doors…) Basically now my balcony looks like total crap. Because the paint is all peeling and there are still some shells wedged between the cracks in the wood. BUT – it is no longer Squirreltopia. (And supposedly the association is painting the balconies sometime this summer. Let’s just hope it is soon.)
My only fear is that the skwerls will get pissed off and start to try to get into my home to find out where their free food went. You know, since I already have duct tape over the one hole in the screen door from when I went away for a weekend. But I have a plan. I will train my cats to guard the door and attack any skwerls trying to gain entry. Ok, maybe I’ll just train Ace, since Baby is diabetic and too fat to catch a skwerl anyway.
So there you have it. The end of a not-that-long era. One I know my brother is glad to see go, since skwerls still scare him. And actually, after finding this website, I can almost see why…
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Reality Check
Even though I may not have been writing a lot lately, I still have been reading a lot. And yesterday Kris wrote about not being happy as a single gal. About wanting to be a part of a couple. I agree with her, wholeheartedly. It’s just… well, to be honest, I just don’t see it happening in my life. And I have pretty much resigned myself to that fact.
No, I am not a lesbian, nor am I one of those “man-haters.” I am not bitter and resentful after a slew of bad relationships, and I don’t think I am that ugly. I just never found Mr. Right, and honestly don’t think I ever will. Now, all my cyber gal-pals reading this are probably ready to jump to my side and tell me how “it could still happen,” but time for a reality check. Most of you are cringing because you are just nearing (or just hit) thirty. I, on the other hand, am pushing forty. And I am finally starting to accept that fact. I’m old. Well, ok, maybe not “ancient” old, but I’m definitely not the girl I used to be. Which is both good and bad. I am a single mom with an almost eleven year old. I have a full time job. I own my own home. I care for a (stupid) diabetic cat. This is my life. And I have become comfortable with it.
I mentioned before that there was a “Girl’s Nite Out” this Friday. Well, guess what? I’m not going. Why? Because I don’t feel like it. I know it is only Tuesday, but I don’t think these feelings will change between now and then. Honestly. Because the more I think about it, the stupider it seems. What business does someone like me have going to a bar and “hanging out” anyway? It just seems pretty pathetic to dress up (well, ok, not really dress up, but dress nice) and waste money in a place where most everyone will be drunk and having fun, but will also be looking at you and wondering why the hell an old lady is out. Plus, I don’t have an urge to drink. The thought of getting buzzed and not being in control doesn’t sit well with me lately. I like being in control of my own life. It was so out of control for so long that I’m not too quick to hand over the reins to Mr. Vodka anymore. Once in a while, yes, but not this weekend.
Also, there is a wild chance that Mr. Cop may be there. He’d probably wind up being the only guy who would even look my way. And the last thing I need is to deal with a ginormous asshole when I am supposedly having fun.
Know the song “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen? It makes me want to cry. Because I do miss my glory days. I miss being young and having fun and hanging out at bars and getting hit on by good-looking guys. I miss not having hangovers and not having bills and looking good in any outfit I tried on. I miss wearing bikinis and not worrying about exercising and having plans on not only Friday and Saturday nights, but on the rest of the days too. And looking forward to going out.
I never thought that I’d wind up where I am now. I always pictured myself married, with a fulfilling job, and a big house… having little get-togethers with other couples and their kids on the weekends. Boy, did I screw that up! But that’s ok, because I love my daughter and my condo and my cats and even though I hate my job, at least I have one. Money may be tight, but I always manage and we live well.
I don’t want to be one of those pathetic women who lives in the past and tries to be who she was twenty years ago. Because I know I’m definitely not the same person. Physically, mentally or otherwise. Oh, sure, I could tell you stories, but that’s about it. I can smile at the memories and look at old journals and pictures and wonder if I ever really knew how good I had it back then… “Youth is wasted on the young.” Who said that? Whoever it was, they were right.
Anyway, I think the bottom line is that you can’t go back in time. I can’t be the party girl I used to be. I’m not the hot chick I was when I was in my twenties. I’m a good person with a good heart and a good life – boring, maybe, but realistic.
It’s just time to start accepting it.
No, I am not a lesbian, nor am I one of those “man-haters.” I am not bitter and resentful after a slew of bad relationships, and I don’t think I am that ugly. I just never found Mr. Right, and honestly don’t think I ever will. Now, all my cyber gal-pals reading this are probably ready to jump to my side and tell me how “it could still happen,” but time for a reality check. Most of you are cringing because you are just nearing (or just hit) thirty. I, on the other hand, am pushing forty. And I am finally starting to accept that fact. I’m old. Well, ok, maybe not “ancient” old, but I’m definitely not the girl I used to be. Which is both good and bad. I am a single mom with an almost eleven year old. I have a full time job. I own my own home. I care for a (stupid) diabetic cat. This is my life. And I have become comfortable with it.
I mentioned before that there was a “Girl’s Nite Out” this Friday. Well, guess what? I’m not going. Why? Because I don’t feel like it. I know it is only Tuesday, but I don’t think these feelings will change between now and then. Honestly. Because the more I think about it, the stupider it seems. What business does someone like me have going to a bar and “hanging out” anyway? It just seems pretty pathetic to dress up (well, ok, not really dress up, but dress nice) and waste money in a place where most everyone will be drunk and having fun, but will also be looking at you and wondering why the hell an old lady is out. Plus, I don’t have an urge to drink. The thought of getting buzzed and not being in control doesn’t sit well with me lately. I like being in control of my own life. It was so out of control for so long that I’m not too quick to hand over the reins to Mr. Vodka anymore. Once in a while, yes, but not this weekend.
Also, there is a wild chance that Mr. Cop may be there. He’d probably wind up being the only guy who would even look my way. And the last thing I need is to deal with a ginormous asshole when I am supposedly having fun.
Know the song “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen? It makes me want to cry. Because I do miss my glory days. I miss being young and having fun and hanging out at bars and getting hit on by good-looking guys. I miss not having hangovers and not having bills and looking good in any outfit I tried on. I miss wearing bikinis and not worrying about exercising and having plans on not only Friday and Saturday nights, but on the rest of the days too. And looking forward to going out.
I never thought that I’d wind up where I am now. I always pictured myself married, with a fulfilling job, and a big house… having little get-togethers with other couples and their kids on the weekends. Boy, did I screw that up! But that’s ok, because I love my daughter and my condo and my cats and even though I hate my job, at least I have one. Money may be tight, but I always manage and we live well.
I don’t want to be one of those pathetic women who lives in the past and tries to be who she was twenty years ago. Because I know I’m definitely not the same person. Physically, mentally or otherwise. Oh, sure, I could tell you stories, but that’s about it. I can smile at the memories and look at old journals and pictures and wonder if I ever really knew how good I had it back then… “Youth is wasted on the young.” Who said that? Whoever it was, they were right.
Anyway, I think the bottom line is that you can’t go back in time. I can’t be the party girl I used to be. I’m not the hot chick I was when I was in my twenties. I’m a good person with a good heart and a good life – boring, maybe, but realistic.
It’s just time to start accepting it.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The Beginning of the End, Part 30
My head was buzzing with the cocaine high as I tried to formulate words to speak to Melanie. Bobby and Kevin were sitting on the other side of the room, oblivious to anything except the rocks they were cooking. Melanie sat cross-legged on the floor by the door, zoning out and playing with her hair. Finally, I swallowed, squeezed my eyes tightly shut and then opened them again. I lowered myself off the bed and onto the floor across from Melanie, and she gave a start as she seemingly saw me for the first time.
“Gosh, you scared me!” she said with an uncertain smile.
“Sorry,” I replied, trying to appear friendly. I looked down at the worn motel carpeting and tried to figure out what I wanted to say to her. Actually, I knew what I wanted to say, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be well-received. I decided my best strategy would be to befriend this “lost girl,” and then try to save her.
“So you ran away, huh? From Chicago?” I asked nonchalantly.
She gave a laugh. “No! I grew up just outside of Reno. I met Bobby at the park one day, and we just hit it off. I thought he was really, you know, different.”
I looked over at Bobby with his baseball cap and orange streaked hair. He’s different, all right, I thought.
“Anyway, I started sneaking out to meet him every night, then one day my dad caught me. We had a huge fight, and he grounded me.” Her expression darkened. “He had no right to ground me. I mean, I’m sixteen! I’m not a kid anymore. So I left in the middle of the night and hid in the park. The next day I walked around most of the day, then went back to the park and found Bobby.”
Melanie smiled and looked over at him. “He’s everything to me. He brought me to his room, and we went and got me some new clothes and everything. You know, since I left my house so fast. He promised he’s going to take care of me.”
She looked so confident, and it made me want to cry. I wasn’t sure what Bobby’s story really was, but I knew that Melanie didn’t belong with him. Her father obviously loved her, or he wouldn’t have bothered to follow her or ground her. I thought of my own parents, and their concern over my move to Reno.
But I’m different, I thought. I mean, Melanie is only sixteen! I’m twenty three, an adult. And I can handle this lifestyle, she can’t. And Kevin is a good person – but Bobby…
Bobby suddenly appeared at Melanie’s side and put an arm around her protectively. She snuggled closer to him, and he kissed her cheek, then looked at me suspiciously.
“So what’re you two jawin’ about over here?” he asked.
“Oh, I was just telling Dasi how we met,” Melanie gushed. “And how happy I am,” she added quickly.
Bobby’s steely gaze was making me uncomfortable.
“Is that right?” Bobby drawled. “You two seem to be getting kinda cozy.”
I laughed. “Actually, it’s nice to have another girl around to talk to,” I said pointedly.
He continued to stare at me and it was giving me the creeps. There was just something about him that I didn’t trust – but I didn’t want him to know I felt that way. I tried to hide my fear.
“So, Melanie tells me you two have been together for a while now,” I said casually.
“Just about a month,” she offered. “Actually, I’ve only been living here for a little over a week, though.”
I nodded and smiled. And I wondered how long it would take for the cops to knock on our door looking for this teenage runaway.
Suddenly, Bobby jumped up and pulled Melanie up with him. “We’d better get back,” he suggested. “Leave Dasi and Kevin alone for a while.”
Kevin walked over. “Hey, you don’t have to leave on our account. There’s still plenty of partying left to do, and we enjoy the company.”
I almost laughed, but I managed to just grin idiotically. “Oh, yeah, we always enjoy the company,” I parroted.
Bobby held up a baggie. “We got our own supply. We’ll hook up again soon, dude.” Then he looked at me pointedly. “Nice to meetcha.”
My grin was still frozen on my face. I nodded in response.
“I hope we get to talk more next time,” Melanie commented wistfully.
This made my smile soften. “We will,” I promised.
I watched Kevin shut the door behind them. I hoped I would be able to keep my promise to Melanie.
“Ready for another?” Kevin asked.
“Sure,” I replied distractedly, still looking at the door Bobby and Melanie had just walked through. “Hey, Kev?” I called, turning around.
He looked up from the pile of rocks he was sorting. “Yeah?”
“What do you think of them?”
He snorted. “What do you mean, ‘what do I think of them?’ I like them. They’re cool.”
“But Melanie’s only sixteen. And she’s a runaway.”
Kevin froze and looked up at me. “Really?” he asked, stunned. “She looks older.”
“Not when you look in her eyes, she doesn’t,” I murmured. “She doesn’t belong here, Kev. And she definitely doesn’t belong with Bobby.” I shuddered. “He gives me the creeps. What’s his story?”
“I think he did something in Chicago. Not sure what. Actually, I’m not even sure if ‘Bobby’ is his real name.”
“What?” I asked, stunned.
“Oh, relax,” Kevin scoffed. “He’s harmless. And he really does care about Melanie, even if she is only sixteen.”
I remained silent.
“Just stop worrying about it. They’re fine.”
“What if her parents, or the cops, come here looking for her?” I asked.
Kevin sighed. “They won’t. Besides, we’re not even involved. If anything, they would go to their room, not ours.” He handed me the pipe. “Just have a hit and relax.”
A paradox if I ever heard one.
I tried to put Bobby and Melanie out of my mind for the time being as I took a long pull on the pipe. I handed it back to Kevin as I exhaled.
“I need to call work tomorrow,” I said, somewhat under my breath. “And Nancy. To see what’s been going on.”
Kevin coughed out a plume of smoke. “What?” he choked.
“Nothing, I was talking to myself,” I muttered.
I closed my eyes and fell back on the bed and let the high take over. For now, I would stop worrying about Bobby and Melanie. Because I had a feeling tomorrow’s phone calls would bring on some brand new things to worry about.
“Gosh, you scared me!” she said with an uncertain smile.
“Sorry,” I replied, trying to appear friendly. I looked down at the worn motel carpeting and tried to figure out what I wanted to say to her. Actually, I knew what I wanted to say, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be well-received. I decided my best strategy would be to befriend this “lost girl,” and then try to save her.
“So you ran away, huh? From Chicago?” I asked nonchalantly.
She gave a laugh. “No! I grew up just outside of Reno. I met Bobby at the park one day, and we just hit it off. I thought he was really, you know, different.”
I looked over at Bobby with his baseball cap and orange streaked hair. He’s different, all right, I thought.
“Anyway, I started sneaking out to meet him every night, then one day my dad caught me. We had a huge fight, and he grounded me.” Her expression darkened. “He had no right to ground me. I mean, I’m sixteen! I’m not a kid anymore. So I left in the middle of the night and hid in the park. The next day I walked around most of the day, then went back to the park and found Bobby.”
Melanie smiled and looked over at him. “He’s everything to me. He brought me to his room, and we went and got me some new clothes and everything. You know, since I left my house so fast. He promised he’s going to take care of me.”
She looked so confident, and it made me want to cry. I wasn’t sure what Bobby’s story really was, but I knew that Melanie didn’t belong with him. Her father obviously loved her, or he wouldn’t have bothered to follow her or ground her. I thought of my own parents, and their concern over my move to Reno.
But I’m different, I thought. I mean, Melanie is only sixteen! I’m twenty three, an adult. And I can handle this lifestyle, she can’t. And Kevin is a good person – but Bobby…
Bobby suddenly appeared at Melanie’s side and put an arm around her protectively. She snuggled closer to him, and he kissed her cheek, then looked at me suspiciously.
“So what’re you two jawin’ about over here?” he asked.
“Oh, I was just telling Dasi how we met,” Melanie gushed. “And how happy I am,” she added quickly.
Bobby’s steely gaze was making me uncomfortable.
“Is that right?” Bobby drawled. “You two seem to be getting kinda cozy.”
I laughed. “Actually, it’s nice to have another girl around to talk to,” I said pointedly.
He continued to stare at me and it was giving me the creeps. There was just something about him that I didn’t trust – but I didn’t want him to know I felt that way. I tried to hide my fear.
“So, Melanie tells me you two have been together for a while now,” I said casually.
“Just about a month,” she offered. “Actually, I’ve only been living here for a little over a week, though.”
I nodded and smiled. And I wondered how long it would take for the cops to knock on our door looking for this teenage runaway.
Suddenly, Bobby jumped up and pulled Melanie up with him. “We’d better get back,” he suggested. “Leave Dasi and Kevin alone for a while.”
Kevin walked over. “Hey, you don’t have to leave on our account. There’s still plenty of partying left to do, and we enjoy the company.”
I almost laughed, but I managed to just grin idiotically. “Oh, yeah, we always enjoy the company,” I parroted.
Bobby held up a baggie. “We got our own supply. We’ll hook up again soon, dude.” Then he looked at me pointedly. “Nice to meetcha.”
My grin was still frozen on my face. I nodded in response.
“I hope we get to talk more next time,” Melanie commented wistfully.
This made my smile soften. “We will,” I promised.
I watched Kevin shut the door behind them. I hoped I would be able to keep my promise to Melanie.
“Ready for another?” Kevin asked.
“Sure,” I replied distractedly, still looking at the door Bobby and Melanie had just walked through. “Hey, Kev?” I called, turning around.
He looked up from the pile of rocks he was sorting. “Yeah?”
“What do you think of them?”
He snorted. “What do you mean, ‘what do I think of them?’ I like them. They’re cool.”
“But Melanie’s only sixteen. And she’s a runaway.”
Kevin froze and looked up at me. “Really?” he asked, stunned. “She looks older.”
“Not when you look in her eyes, she doesn’t,” I murmured. “She doesn’t belong here, Kev. And she definitely doesn’t belong with Bobby.” I shuddered. “He gives me the creeps. What’s his story?”
“I think he did something in Chicago. Not sure what. Actually, I’m not even sure if ‘Bobby’ is his real name.”
“What?” I asked, stunned.
“Oh, relax,” Kevin scoffed. “He’s harmless. And he really does care about Melanie, even if she is only sixteen.”
I remained silent.
“Just stop worrying about it. They’re fine.”
“What if her parents, or the cops, come here looking for her?” I asked.
Kevin sighed. “They won’t. Besides, we’re not even involved. If anything, they would go to their room, not ours.” He handed me the pipe. “Just have a hit and relax.”
A paradox if I ever heard one.
I tried to put Bobby and Melanie out of my mind for the time being as I took a long pull on the pipe. I handed it back to Kevin as I exhaled.
“I need to call work tomorrow,” I said, somewhat under my breath. “And Nancy. To see what’s been going on.”
Kevin coughed out a plume of smoke. “What?” he choked.
“Nothing, I was talking to myself,” I muttered.
I closed my eyes and fell back on the bed and let the high take over. For now, I would stop worrying about Bobby and Melanie. Because I had a feeling tomorrow’s phone calls would bring on some brand new things to worry about.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Who Says Blondes are Dumb??
My beautiful, intelligent daughter called me to let me know that her last day of fifth grade went well – AND THAT SHE GOT STRAIGHT A’S. How appropriate that her new favorite shirt (which she is wearing in the picture, even though you can’t read it) says “Blonde & Smart.” I am so proud of my baby girl!!! Just had to share with the world. Oh – on a totally different subject (but somewhat relating to my earlier post) did anyone happen to notice that the Angels are playing the Devil Rays tonight? Let’s hope the Angels kick some ass. (No offense to anyone in Tampa Bay, but considering the significance of the date…)
Deliver Us From Evil
So this morning on tv there was a lot of talk about Armageddon and the end of the world, this being 6/6/06 and all. First time since 1906 that we have had that date. Although, really, the world didn’t end in 1906, why would it end today? It didn’t end in 1806 either, or in 1706 for that matter. But still, everyone is oohing and aahing over the fact that “the sign of the devil” is today’s date.
“The Omen” opened last night at midnight, too. Good gimmick for a remake about a kid with “666” scarred into his scalp. Gotta wonder if they planned it that way: (circa 2000) “Let’s make a remake of ‘The Omen!’” “Cool, dude! But let’s wait a few years so we can release it on 6/6/06!!” “AWESOME!!”
I remember the original Omen. Freaked the hell out of me. My friends and I took turns inspecting each others’ scalps looking for the telltale triple sixes – thankfully finding nothing. But man, that kid was a piece of work. Pure evil. Or so they wanted you to believe.
Which is what I started wondering about while watching all this hullabaloo (wow – never thought I’d ever get to use that word in a sentence!). What exactly is evil? I mean, being raised a good Catholic girl I know that the Church teaches that there is good, and there is evil. God is good, the devil is evil. Duh. But is it really that simple? That cut-and dried? I mean, even though I have lapsed as far as organized religion, I still believe in God. But I am not sure about the whole Satan thing. (Well, sure, I believe in my boss, since I see him every day at work, but I mean his namesake, the guy who supposedly resides in the bowels of HELL.) Is there really some kind of supernatural being who hangs out whispering in people’s ears, trying to get them to do horrible things, causing natural disasters and car crashes and animal attacks and so on? I don’t think so. But that’s only my opinion.
Actually, not only do I not believe in the devil, I also do not believe in Hell. I can’t see believing in a loving, forgiving God (which I do) and then also believing that my God would allow one of His children to spend eternity in a place as horrible as Hell. Do I think that people like Gacy, Dahmer, and Hitler are floating around in Heaven? Nope. I think that they just are gone. Poof. Nowhere. But I also don’t believe that they are “burning in Hell,” as much as some people would like to believe that.
I think evil is a very difficult thing to grasp. When I was little, I thought that some of my teachers were evil. I thought that monsters were evil. I thought that spiders were evil. I knew the devil was evil – and as a child I definitely believed in him. You had to – the nuns drilled it into your head on a daily basis. “The devil made me do it” was not something you would say to a nun – even in jest – because they took that shit seriously. As I got older, I redefined evil. Child molesters were evil. Murderers were evil. The guy who dumped me for no reason was evil. My daughter’s so-called “friend” is evil. But nowadays, I obviously use the term “evil” a little more loosely.
Every night on the news, there are stories about shootings and hit and runs and murders and kidnappings… are all the perpetrators of these crimes evil? All of them? Are people who are mentally challenged evil if they do something horrific yet don’t understand what they’ve done? Is a pit bull evil if it is trained as a fighting dog and then mauls a small child? Is a person evil if they have a chemical substance problem and inject a friend with a lethal dose of a drug? Or if they get behind the wheel of a car and kill a family on a Sunday outing?
People always have choices – or do they? Does someone with schizophrenia always choose their actions? Does someone with an addiction always choose their actions? Does someone brainwashed with radical religious or cultural beliefs always choose their actions? Some may say yes, I’m not so sure. Not that I don’t believe people should never be accountable for their actions, obviously they should, but are they evil because of these actions?
In my life, there are many things I have done that I am not proud of. Many things, for sure, I am even ashamed of. Illegal things, immoral things, things that have hurt other people, both physically and mentally. Some of these things were done inadvertently, most of them done deliberately. Does that make me evil? Because I did bad things knowingly and (at the time) without remorse? Or am I given a reprieve because I now have remorse for my actions and I have built a better life, one that I am now proud of? Do people stop being evil if they change their ways? If Gacy had said “sorry” and started doing his clown shtick again and raised money for various charities, would he be less evil?
Wow. I am starting to give myself a headache. So I think it’s time to wrap up this post. But if perchance the world does end today, on 6/6/06, I hope I wind up in Heaven. And I hope to see you all there!
“The Omen” opened last night at midnight, too. Good gimmick for a remake about a kid with “666” scarred into his scalp. Gotta wonder if they planned it that way: (circa 2000) “Let’s make a remake of ‘The Omen!’” “Cool, dude! But let’s wait a few years so we can release it on 6/6/06!!” “AWESOME!!”
I remember the original Omen. Freaked the hell out of me. My friends and I took turns inspecting each others’ scalps looking for the telltale triple sixes – thankfully finding nothing. But man, that kid was a piece of work. Pure evil. Or so they wanted you to believe.
Which is what I started wondering about while watching all this hullabaloo (wow – never thought I’d ever get to use that word in a sentence!). What exactly is evil? I mean, being raised a good Catholic girl I know that the Church teaches that there is good, and there is evil. God is good, the devil is evil. Duh. But is it really that simple? That cut-and dried? I mean, even though I have lapsed as far as organized religion, I still believe in God. But I am not sure about the whole Satan thing. (Well, sure, I believe in my boss, since I see him every day at work, but I mean his namesake, the guy who supposedly resides in the bowels of HELL.) Is there really some kind of supernatural being who hangs out whispering in people’s ears, trying to get them to do horrible things, causing natural disasters and car crashes and animal attacks and so on? I don’t think so. But that’s only my opinion.
Actually, not only do I not believe in the devil, I also do not believe in Hell. I can’t see believing in a loving, forgiving God (which I do) and then also believing that my God would allow one of His children to spend eternity in a place as horrible as Hell. Do I think that people like Gacy, Dahmer, and Hitler are floating around in Heaven? Nope. I think that they just are gone. Poof. Nowhere. But I also don’t believe that they are “burning in Hell,” as much as some people would like to believe that.
I think evil is a very difficult thing to grasp. When I was little, I thought that some of my teachers were evil. I thought that monsters were evil. I thought that spiders were evil. I knew the devil was evil – and as a child I definitely believed in him. You had to – the nuns drilled it into your head on a daily basis. “The devil made me do it” was not something you would say to a nun – even in jest – because they took that shit seriously. As I got older, I redefined evil. Child molesters were evil. Murderers were evil. The guy who dumped me for no reason was evil. My daughter’s so-called “friend” is evil. But nowadays, I obviously use the term “evil” a little more loosely.
Every night on the news, there are stories about shootings and hit and runs and murders and kidnappings… are all the perpetrators of these crimes evil? All of them? Are people who are mentally challenged evil if they do something horrific yet don’t understand what they’ve done? Is a pit bull evil if it is trained as a fighting dog and then mauls a small child? Is a person evil if they have a chemical substance problem and inject a friend with a lethal dose of a drug? Or if they get behind the wheel of a car and kill a family on a Sunday outing?
People always have choices – or do they? Does someone with schizophrenia always choose their actions? Does someone with an addiction always choose their actions? Does someone brainwashed with radical religious or cultural beliefs always choose their actions? Some may say yes, I’m not so sure. Not that I don’t believe people should never be accountable for their actions, obviously they should, but are they evil because of these actions?
In my life, there are many things I have done that I am not proud of. Many things, for sure, I am even ashamed of. Illegal things, immoral things, things that have hurt other people, both physically and mentally. Some of these things were done inadvertently, most of them done deliberately. Does that make me evil? Because I did bad things knowingly and (at the time) without remorse? Or am I given a reprieve because I now have remorse for my actions and I have built a better life, one that I am now proud of? Do people stop being evil if they change their ways? If Gacy had said “sorry” and started doing his clown shtick again and raised money for various charities, would he be less evil?
Wow. I am starting to give myself a headache. So I think it’s time to wrap up this post. But if perchance the world does end today, on 6/6/06, I hope I wind up in Heaven. And I hope to see you all there!
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