Whew, I don't mind tellin' ya - this has been one wild and craaazy week. Let's see if I can remember what all went down in the last seven days:
- I bought a scale and after stepping on it and seeing the reading, had to spend several hours talking myself down off the ledge.
- Luckily, this was the motivation I'd been so sorely lacking and not only did I jump back on the exercise train, Laura and I started a new bloggie where I get to bitch, moan, complain and hopefully sometimes brag about my new hobby, Operation Fit Into Your Clothes Again Because It's Not Like You Can Go Buy a Whole New Wardrobe. In less than a week, five more contributors have joined us and it just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy knowing I Am Not Alone in this. Journeys are way more fun when traveled together. Either I just made that up or I read it on a fortune cookie once.
- Monday morning I ran out of gas on the way to work with a dead cell phone and was rescued by a very nice man. I didn't panic until I started telling people the story and seeing the look of fear in their eyes when I got to the part about getting into the nice man's car.
- George lost twenty-five years' worth of tools, recreational equipment, furniture, file cabinets, a generator and countless other things in a fire that was caused by lighting hitting his shed (which was the size of a two-story barn). We went over the other night to see the damage and it looked like a war-torn bombing site, with huge piles of black, charred and still-smoking remains. It'll take weeks to clean up and they're both understandably shaken up.
- For a couple of days it seemed like we might have to move out of our house, but luckily that problem went away. I don't think I even realized how stressed that made me until after the crisis had passed. We do NOT need that hell anytime soon.
- Last night a five-minute thunderstorm passed through (yeah, this Florida Summer storm every afternoon shit can go back from whence it came anytime now) and it knocked our power out from 7 until 10pm. Considering last Summer we had that happen seven or eight times, we were very unprepared last night with dead batteries in all the flashlights, a broken Coleman lantern that has yet to be replaced and the scarce amount of what's left of my candle collection. We ended up getting a long visit from Crazy Old Neighbor Lady and then playing poker on the front porch by the light of a Sun & Sand scented Yankee candle. I will be purchasing replacements for light sources, because I have the feeling this is only the beginning.
It seems like a lot more happened, but maybe not. Either way I'm hap-hap-happy it's Friday and I hope you are too.
Showing posts with label Experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Experience. Show all posts
Friday, June 19, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Life is a Highway
Unlike other times in the past, I can say with complete honesty it wasn't my fault when I ran out of gas shortly after merging onto the interstate this morning. Religiously I've made it a habit that as soon as my gas light comes on, I set my odometer and know I only have thirty miles to go before things get ugly. In the past when I was young and that one time last year, I've pushed the limits and several times paid the price. For some reason there has always been a good samaritan nearby who decides to take time out of his or her busy day to rescue me.
Knowing I had a 9:00 meeting this morning, I made it a point to do something I rarely do, which is get to work on time at eight. I knew I'd need that hour to prepare - revise some documents, brainstorm ideas - things that were supposed to have been done a month ago but somehow always got pushed to the bottom of my list. I left for work at 7:45, noticing as I cranked Ol' Bessie up that I would certainly need to get gas at some point today, the odometer telling me I was nine miles into my thirty-mile grace period. Not wanting to waste any valuable time, I didn't even consider stopping for gas on the way in.
I pulled onto the interstate and was serenely riding along listening to the morning talk show. I felt the car hesitate, but that's nothing new or alarming so all I did was double-check to make sure I'd read the odometer correctly. Yes. Why then did the car keep farting like that? Normally it doesn't do it that badly unless the A/C is on and I'm attempting to climb some sort of incline, but neither was the case. Fart, fart, fart, aaaand...dead. Feeling as though I had entered the twilight zone, I pulled off onto the shoulder. Things being how they are these days, I did what anyone would do and reached for my phone. Brian probably wouldn't be too pissed after I showed him what the damn mileage read.
It was at that moment I realized my cell phone was dead. It had been for most of the weekend and when I half-heartedly searched for it Saturday night, I realized the only charger I have for this phone was not anywhere to be found, most likely because I'd left it at the office Friday. So to review: dead car, dead cell.
I got my purse and keys, locked the car and started walking. I figured it was only another two miles until I'd reach a store or whatever, and hey, this way I'd get in some unplanned morning exercise! But before I could even form a complete plan, a car pulled off the road a little ways ahead of me. I walked up to it and inside was a portly, jolly-looking man who asked if I needed help. Yessir, I surely do.
And as always in these situations with me, he wasn't a serial killer or raper of short, chunky, middle-age women, but a very nice man who happened to work at the fuel center at Fort Jackson, the military base located a mile or so back. He took me there, filled up his little red gas container, brought me back to my car, put the gas in the car and told me not to trust my gas guage anymore. He wouldn't take any money for his troubles, but instead gave me a hug and told me to try and go to church soon. Typical Southern Baptist and the total person you want to pick you up when you're stranded on the side of the road.
I made it to work with a half hour to spare before the meeting, got my shit together and spent the rest of the day thanking God and Dad for watching over my stupid ass yet again. After relaying to Brian the whole story, I shook my head and said what a bad day I had...but he stopped me and said, "No. It was actually a great day." And of course like usual, he was right.
Knowing I had a 9:00 meeting this morning, I made it a point to do something I rarely do, which is get to work on time at eight. I knew I'd need that hour to prepare - revise some documents, brainstorm ideas - things that were supposed to have been done a month ago but somehow always got pushed to the bottom of my list. I left for work at 7:45, noticing as I cranked Ol' Bessie up that I would certainly need to get gas at some point today, the odometer telling me I was nine miles into my thirty-mile grace period. Not wanting to waste any valuable time, I didn't even consider stopping for gas on the way in.
I pulled onto the interstate and was serenely riding along listening to the morning talk show. I felt the car hesitate, but that's nothing new or alarming so all I did was double-check to make sure I'd read the odometer correctly. Yes. Why then did the car keep farting like that? Normally it doesn't do it that badly unless the A/C is on and I'm attempting to climb some sort of incline, but neither was the case. Fart, fart, fart, aaaand...dead. Feeling as though I had entered the twilight zone, I pulled off onto the shoulder. Things being how they are these days, I did what anyone would do and reached for my phone. Brian probably wouldn't be too pissed after I showed him what the damn mileage read.
It was at that moment I realized my cell phone was dead. It had been for most of the weekend and when I half-heartedly searched for it Saturday night, I realized the only charger I have for this phone was not anywhere to be found, most likely because I'd left it at the office Friday. So to review: dead car, dead cell.
I got my purse and keys, locked the car and started walking. I figured it was only another two miles until I'd reach a store or whatever, and hey, this way I'd get in some unplanned morning exercise! But before I could even form a complete plan, a car pulled off the road a little ways ahead of me. I walked up to it and inside was a portly, jolly-looking man who asked if I needed help. Yessir, I surely do.
And as always in these situations with me, he wasn't a serial killer or raper of short, chunky, middle-age women, but a very nice man who happened to work at the fuel center at Fort Jackson, the military base located a mile or so back. He took me there, filled up his little red gas container, brought me back to my car, put the gas in the car and told me not to trust my gas guage anymore. He wouldn't take any money for his troubles, but instead gave me a hug and told me to try and go to church soon. Typical Southern Baptist and the total person you want to pick you up when you're stranded on the side of the road.
I made it to work with a half hour to spare before the meeting, got my shit together and spent the rest of the day thanking God and Dad for watching over my stupid ass yet again. After relaying to Brian the whole story, I shook my head and said what a bad day I had...but he stopped me and said, "No. It was actually a great day." And of course like usual, he was right.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
The tradition continues
This weekend has been pretty low-key for me, which seems to be the case lately. The only difference is I've added exercise into my daily life and I've managed to stick to it for five consecutive days so far - go, me! I'm really excited about the new blog and I think it's going to help me tremendously through this, my latest adventures in weight loss.
Grace called yesterday with some mildly upsetting news: her daughter, my favorite youngster, was caught sneaking out with one of her friends the other night. The story is confusing so I won't get into details, but what struck me the most is that for our hometown (and I'm sure many others), this seems to be an unavoidable right of passage. I mean, my friends and I certainly did our share, though my 120-lb German Shepard "brother" made it impossible for us to get away with it at home so we had to do most of our nighttime skulking from friends' houses. No problem making curfew when you knew the real fun wasn't going to start until after 1 a.m. anyway. Oy.
We thought we were so crafty with the whole "I'm staying over at Jen's tonight" plan. Even though Jen's place was THE primo place to stay, since her mom not only knew about the sneak-outs, but practically encouraged them - and loved hearing all about our adventures the next day! Yes, I know - she was a little weird. But she had her logic about it; if it was going to happen inevitably, she figured as long as the boys came to us and we stayed on their property, well then we were obviously safe and sound and that was just fine and dandy with her. Little did she know her daughter lost her virginity while on their property, but no harm no foul.
But even though her mom was way more liberal than most, that wasn't good enough for us and we had to still push the limits. Because, why not? Where's the fun in having permission; that takes all the rebellion out of it. Her mom's worst punishment for our night activities was loudly waking us up at 7am, forcing us to get showered, dressed and eat breakfast, no matter how hungover we were - the worse, the better. The bitch is lucky she made fabulous pancakes.
One night, the four of us, me, Grace, Jen and my sister were out at this house party. Jen and Sister were the youngsters compared to us - sophmores in high school to our already-graduated-but-still-living-at-home status. And while we had a hair more freedom than they did, we still lived under the "As long as you're under my roof you will have a curfew" regime. So unfair! What the hell, Dad, I'm 19 - I am a woman now and need to fly and be free!! Anyway. This party. It was one of those nights the guy to girl ratio was great and all the guys we had crushes on were present and accounted for. The cheap beer, malt liquor and Boones Farm was flowing and we were having a great time. Until so quickly, the clock (our enemy) was showing us it was time to get our asses home. But somehow in our drunken logic, Grace and I decided, Hey, we're older; why should WE have to go home just because the youngsters do! At which point I gave the keys to my car to Jen, not because she was less drunk, but because she knew how to drive a stick and my sister didn't. We told them to take the car and go straight home, that we'd be there shortly. Long story long, we went off with some guys to the big city of Ocala, thirty miles away, and spent the night at some dude's (we named him "That Guy") apartment.
Do you want to know the sickest thing a young girl can experience while driving home in the early morning hours as daylight fast approaches? No, not the hangover. Not sexual regret or wondering if the other girls made it home okay. The sight of Jen's parents PASSING YOU ON THE ROAD BECAUSE THEY ARE DRIVING AROUND LOOKING FOR ALL OF YOU. Grace and I saw them, looked at each other and quickly surmised that yeah, apparently poor judgment was made all around and the girls never made it home either. When punishments were handed out, Grace and I got off fairly easily, as we were considered too old to really be grounded; we basically received a stern talking-to regarding the fact we were the OLDER and therefore MORE RESPONSIBLE ones and they thought we were TRUSTWORTHY when it came to looking out for the younger girls. Oops. Sister got the worst of it and was put on restriction for a month, subsequently missing one of the greatest parties of that year the following week. And you can ask her - she's still pissed about that one.
So yeah, I vividly remember what it's like. The late-night adventures we had in our little town are some of my fondest memories. And living where we did, so sheltered compared to so many bigger, scarier places, our shenanigans were pretty tame. I'm very thankful Elizabeth is growing up in that same little town. But the thought that she's right on the precipice of all this scares the living hell out of me (So, haha, imagine what her mother must feel like, haha!) She's an intelligent, thoughtful and caring kid. She even inherited her mother's grim intuition, telling her friend, "You know we're going to get caught if we do this, right?" She has a conscience and God knows that's key. I'm not saying she's not going to screw up; I just think knowing when she's doing it, knowing there will most definitely be consequences, really will make the difference. This won't help Grace sleep any better at night, but I'm not sure that's avoidable when you have a teenager you gave birth to and are responsible for keeping alive.
And she's starting high school in August. This is one of the only reasons I wish I still lived there, because I have the feeling it's going to be an interesting four years.
Grace called yesterday with some mildly upsetting news: her daughter, my favorite youngster, was caught sneaking out with one of her friends the other night. The story is confusing so I won't get into details, but what struck me the most is that for our hometown (and I'm sure many others), this seems to be an unavoidable right of passage. I mean, my friends and I certainly did our share, though my 120-lb German Shepard "brother" made it impossible for us to get away with it at home so we had to do most of our nighttime skulking from friends' houses. No problem making curfew when you knew the real fun wasn't going to start until after 1 a.m. anyway. Oy.
We thought we were so crafty with the whole "I'm staying over at Jen's tonight" plan. Even though Jen's place was THE primo place to stay, since her mom not only knew about the sneak-outs, but practically encouraged them - and loved hearing all about our adventures the next day! Yes, I know - she was a little weird. But she had her logic about it; if it was going to happen inevitably, she figured as long as the boys came to us and we stayed on their property, well then we were obviously safe and sound and that was just fine and dandy with her. Little did she know her daughter lost her virginity while on their property, but no harm no foul.
But even though her mom was way more liberal than most, that wasn't good enough for us and we had to still push the limits. Because, why not? Where's the fun in having permission; that takes all the rebellion out of it. Her mom's worst punishment for our night activities was loudly waking us up at 7am, forcing us to get showered, dressed and eat breakfast, no matter how hungover we were - the worse, the better. The bitch is lucky she made fabulous pancakes.
One night, the four of us, me, Grace, Jen and my sister were out at this house party. Jen and Sister were the youngsters compared to us - sophmores in high school to our already-graduated-but-still-living-at-home status. And while we had a hair more freedom than they did, we still lived under the "As long as you're under my roof you will have a curfew" regime. So unfair! What the hell, Dad, I'm 19 - I am a woman now and need to fly and be free!! Anyway. This party. It was one of those nights the guy to girl ratio was great and all the guys we had crushes on were present and accounted for. The cheap beer, malt liquor and Boones Farm was flowing and we were having a great time. Until so quickly, the clock (our enemy) was showing us it was time to get our asses home. But somehow in our drunken logic, Grace and I decided, Hey, we're older; why should WE have to go home just because the youngsters do! At which point I gave the keys to my car to Jen, not because she was less drunk, but because she knew how to drive a stick and my sister didn't. We told them to take the car and go straight home, that we'd be there shortly. Long story long, we went off with some guys to the big city of Ocala, thirty miles away, and spent the night at some dude's (we named him "That Guy") apartment.
Do you want to know the sickest thing a young girl can experience while driving home in the early morning hours as daylight fast approaches? No, not the hangover. Not sexual regret or wondering if the other girls made it home okay. The sight of Jen's parents PASSING YOU ON THE ROAD BECAUSE THEY ARE DRIVING AROUND LOOKING FOR ALL OF YOU. Grace and I saw them, looked at each other and quickly surmised that yeah, apparently poor judgment was made all around and the girls never made it home either. When punishments were handed out, Grace and I got off fairly easily, as we were considered too old to really be grounded; we basically received a stern talking-to regarding the fact we were the OLDER and therefore MORE RESPONSIBLE ones and they thought we were TRUSTWORTHY when it came to looking out for the younger girls. Oops. Sister got the worst of it and was put on restriction for a month, subsequently missing one of the greatest parties of that year the following week. And you can ask her - she's still pissed about that one.
So yeah, I vividly remember what it's like. The late-night adventures we had in our little town are some of my fondest memories. And living where we did, so sheltered compared to so many bigger, scarier places, our shenanigans were pretty tame. I'm very thankful Elizabeth is growing up in that same little town. But the thought that she's right on the precipice of all this scares the living hell out of me (So, haha, imagine what her mother must feel like, haha!) She's an intelligent, thoughtful and caring kid. She even inherited her mother's grim intuition, telling her friend, "You know we're going to get caught if we do this, right?" She has a conscience and God knows that's key. I'm not saying she's not going to screw up; I just think knowing when she's doing it, knowing there will most definitely be consequences, really will make the difference. This won't help Grace sleep any better at night, but I'm not sure that's avoidable when you have a teenager you gave birth to and are responsible for keeping alive.
And she's starting high school in August. This is one of the only reasons I wish I still lived there, because I have the feeling it's going to be an interesting four years.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Blame it on midnight, shame on the moon
I believe there are evil forces trying to keep Jillian and I apart. We have a stupid problem with the dvd player and that is the remote is no longer with us. Of course I couldn't view the workout portion of the dvd without having a remote to skip through the menu. So that was Tuesday. Yesterday I stopped by the Deathstar to pick up a new cheap dvd player, since we've tried the universal remote route and that was a big fail. The one I'd seen advertised for $29.99 was of course sold out. I'm not paying more than that, when we ALREADY HAVE ONE at home. Either way, I'm hoping to rectify this situation tomorrow. In the meantime, I've started upping the ante on the stepper by throwing some light hand weights into the mix. It's so unbelievably crazy how quickly I turn into a bright red, shaky, worn out mess due to how frighteningly out of shape I am! I know it won't be like this for long, as I usually bounce back fairly quickly, but last night I was just embarrassed. And I did it while I was home alone. I have the feeling it's going to be awhile before I show my face (or boobs) at a gym.
There are many things I'm willing to do to get back into shape but I can tell you what isn't one of them. Skim milk. Light mayonaise. Low calorie cheese. Okay, that's more than one thing. Whatever; I'm not ever going there again. Skim milk makes my Rice Krispies look purple, light mayo looks like jizz and low cal cheese should be used as an adhesive, but not ever injested. For me it's about portion control and cutting out the extra crap. I know all the tricks that work for me; now it's a matter of employing them. Which I've started doing and already I feel a little better. Forward momentum is so much nicer than being stagnant.
As if I wasn't already a little nervous about Sister flying across the pond tomorrow, she called me this morning to tell me she accidentally cut the tip of her finger off yesterday while pruning her tomato plant. Not enough to warrant stitches, but enough so that the doctor had to pump some weird foam or gel stuff in there to help coagulate the blood and also her fingerprint might be permanently altered. So yeah, MTAE, you thought YOUR finger injury was a good one? My sister just totally topped it. Not that anyone would want to be the winner in a contest like that. I was instantly nauseous as she described it to me. But now she gets to go to England with Vicodin, so all's well that ends well.
I just found out our bid was accepted to clean the Rednecks' place out and that it needs to be done like yesterday. Thanks for all the advance notice, dicks. So now all of a sudden we have another work-filled weekend ahead. Hopefully though I personally will be far removed from the physical work, but I'll be more than happy to type up and submit the invoice! If things keep going this well, I daresay I might actually be going to Florida next month for realsies. *Knocks particle board* Brian also has a tile job scheduled for two weeks from now, which I'm excited about mainly for the potential of leftover tile, but also holy cow - had this many side jobs come BEFORE he started back working full-time, we would've been doing fine the past few months. But I guess what would be the fun in that.
Speaking of the Reds, Brian found out some really good friends of ours we thought still lived in a different state have moved back to this area recently. They are also rednecks, but are way more entertaining and fun than the Rednecks. In fact, they make Nick & Sheri look like suburbanites or something. They used to keep one of Dale Earnhardt's tires in their living room as a showpiece. That type of thing. They're who we got stuck on the lake on their boat during a tornado with and stuck out in the woods when we accidentally sunk into a mud hole and had to walk four miles in forty degree weather back to a Waffle House to call someone for help. They are AWESOME! We only have a couple of vague clues as to where they might be, so I've been furiously Googling away. This is one reunion I am very much looking forward to.
Our yard was so lit up with fireflies last night, it was awesome. Between that and the sight of the big orange moon, I made peace with Summer for a minute.
There are many things I'm willing to do to get back into shape but I can tell you what isn't one of them. Skim milk. Light mayonaise. Low calorie cheese. Okay, that's more than one thing. Whatever; I'm not ever going there again. Skim milk makes my Rice Krispies look purple, light mayo looks like jizz and low cal cheese should be used as an adhesive, but not ever injested. For me it's about portion control and cutting out the extra crap. I know all the tricks that work for me; now it's a matter of employing them. Which I've started doing and already I feel a little better. Forward momentum is so much nicer than being stagnant.
As if I wasn't already a little nervous about Sister flying across the pond tomorrow, she called me this morning to tell me she accidentally cut the tip of her finger off yesterday while pruning her tomato plant. Not enough to warrant stitches, but enough so that the doctor had to pump some weird foam or gel stuff in there to help coagulate the blood and also her fingerprint might be permanently altered. So yeah, MTAE, you thought YOUR finger injury was a good one? My sister just totally topped it. Not that anyone would want to be the winner in a contest like that. I was instantly nauseous as she described it to me. But now she gets to go to England with Vicodin, so all's well that ends well.
I just found out our bid was accepted to clean the Rednecks' place out and that it needs to be done like yesterday. Thanks for all the advance notice, dicks. So now all of a sudden we have another work-filled weekend ahead. Hopefully though I personally will be far removed from the physical work, but I'll be more than happy to type up and submit the invoice! If things keep going this well, I daresay I might actually be going to Florida next month for realsies. *Knocks particle board* Brian also has a tile job scheduled for two weeks from now, which I'm excited about mainly for the potential of leftover tile, but also holy cow - had this many side jobs come BEFORE he started back working full-time, we would've been doing fine the past few months. But I guess what would be the fun in that.
Speaking of the Reds, Brian found out some really good friends of ours we thought still lived in a different state have moved back to this area recently. They are also rednecks, but are way more entertaining and fun than the Rednecks. In fact, they make Nick & Sheri look like suburbanites or something. They used to keep one of Dale Earnhardt's tires in their living room as a showpiece. That type of thing. They're who we got stuck on the lake on their boat during a tornado with and stuck out in the woods when we accidentally sunk into a mud hole and had to walk four miles in forty degree weather back to a Waffle House to call someone for help. They are AWESOME! We only have a couple of vague clues as to where they might be, so I've been furiously Googling away. This is one reunion I am very much looking forward to.
Our yard was so lit up with fireflies last night, it was awesome. Between that and the sight of the big orange moon, I made peace with Summer for a minute.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Can't say baby where I'll be in a year
Yesterday I had another appointment with the therapist person. I'm pretty sure I like her. I'm almost positive I do. Unlike Brian, who is of the opinion psychology/psychiatry/whatever is for the most part crap, (that's not all his fault; he gets it from his mother) I think it's something that can be extremely beneficial, depending on the individual, his/her situation and the doctor. There's no denying a certain amount of bullshit is involved, but I feel that way about most professions so it's not a biggie to me.
However.
Yesterday's topic was obviously the third failed IUI. I told her my period arrived last Sunday right before Brian was leaving to go out of town but that I wasn't surprised about it like I'd been the previous two times. So besides sleeping most of that day and being a little down this week, I think I'm doing pretty okay. Note: doc wasn't even tryin' to hear that. She looked at me. An uncomfortable length of eye contact time ensued. Then:
Her: So. You're doing okay?
Me: Yeah, I really think so.
Her: So you've cried over it and in a matter of four days have moved on?
Me: Well no, but...
Her: Oh. So you haven't even CRIED yet?
Me: Uh...no?
And it was at that point I believe she made it her mission in life to make me cry. I'm not saying she told me I look fat and my roots are showing. She just seemed very goal orientated. As in her To Do list looked like this: (1) make patients cry (2) make them stop crying (3) go home satisfied I've done my part to make the world a better place. The worst part - her evil plan worked. I kind of laughed as I reached for the tissue box that just happened to be sitting on the small table next to me; it's not often you recognize the moment you become a human cliche.
Her opinion is that I'm practicing the art of avoidance. Okay, fair enough. I'm burying my feelings, not dealing with it, etc. Which, okay - I can see that. And I understand that's not good. But then she told me I need to FEEL my feelings before I can move on. So I said, "Okay, so how do I do that?" she didn't have an answer for me. Her recommendations included write in my journal (check), continue to exercise (I haven't every day, but I've gotten much more consistent) and either talk about it with people or don't, depending on how I feel. Um...okay. That wasn't what I'd call a huge revelation, lady. Your gentle suggestions for me to do things I'm already doing makes me a little cranky. But then again anyone who ends a therapy session by poorly singing Aerosmith ("Sweeeeet Emooootion...") is A-okay in my book.
Weekend! Starts in 4.5 hours!
However.
Yesterday's topic was obviously the third failed IUI. I told her my period arrived last Sunday right before Brian was leaving to go out of town but that I wasn't surprised about it like I'd been the previous two times. So besides sleeping most of that day and being a little down this week, I think I'm doing pretty okay. Note: doc wasn't even tryin' to hear that. She looked at me. An uncomfortable length of eye contact time ensued. Then:
Her: So. You're doing okay?
Me: Yeah, I really think so.
Her: So you've cried over it and in a matter of four days have moved on?
Me: Well no, but...
Her: Oh. So you haven't even CRIED yet?
Me: Uh...no?
And it was at that point I believe she made it her mission in life to make me cry. I'm not saying she told me I look fat and my roots are showing. She just seemed very goal orientated. As in her To Do list looked like this: (1) make patients cry (2) make them stop crying (3) go home satisfied I've done my part to make the world a better place. The worst part - her evil plan worked. I kind of laughed as I reached for the tissue box that just happened to be sitting on the small table next to me; it's not often you recognize the moment you become a human cliche.
Her opinion is that I'm practicing the art of avoidance. Okay, fair enough. I'm burying my feelings, not dealing with it, etc. Which, okay - I can see that. And I understand that's not good. But then she told me I need to FEEL my feelings before I can move on. So I said, "Okay, so how do I do that?" she didn't have an answer for me. Her recommendations included write in my journal (check), continue to exercise (I haven't every day, but I've gotten much more consistent) and either talk about it with people or don't, depending on how I feel. Um...okay. That wasn't what I'd call a huge revelation, lady. Your gentle suggestions for me to do things I'm already doing makes me a little cranky. But then again anyone who ends a therapy session by poorly singing Aerosmith ("Sweeeeet Emooootion...") is A-okay in my book.
Weekend! Starts in 4.5 hours!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Part hippie
If I'm as bored as this with the whole fucking stupid baby stupid fucking thing, I can only imagine how anyone who reads this is. I'm really going to try keeping that shit to a minimum until there's something interesting to say, like for instance if I were to actually, you know, GET PREGNANT. Fuck.
Work is just stupid too, so no talking about that either.
We were making more jokes about forming a compound/bunker the other day (because we're hysterical like that) and then I remembered something. We'd both be terrible in a place like that. Not only does he start to break out in the cold sweats if he doesn't have his daily dose of Fox News or the equivalent, but I get pretty grumpy away from the interwebs after a short time. Embarrassing but true. And that's only really a small part of it.
My parents bought an RV when I was nine and we spent many fun summers traveling around the country and also spending a couple of whole summers in New York. My parents always joked about how us kids didn't know from "roughing it" and that if we were ever forced to camp in an actual tent, we'd be horrified. Well, they weren't entirely right, but fairly close. We spent a fun weekend tent camping in the North Carolina mountains one beautiful Fall and I also spent three wet days in a tent at the Woodstock reunion in 1994 that ranks up there in the top five vacations of my life. But I will say I can only handle a tent if the weather is nice and chilly. The one time we tried camping in North Florida one Memorial Day weekend is a nightmare I've been mostly successful at blocking out completely. The heat. The bugs. The skin sticking together -(Zexy)- Hell no; you can HAVE that shit.
I like TV too. There, I said it. Our motorhome had a little black & white antenna'd thing that was mostly a pain in the ass and we rarely used it. But it made us feel good just knowing it was there.
Then this one Summer, my parents sent us to stay with our hippie aunt and uncle for a few weeks. I laugh now knowing it was actually only two weeks or so when it seemed like a lifetime then. These people lived in a commune-ish place in WAAAY upstate New York, like close to Canada, and they lived pretty much isolated from civilization on top of a mountain or some shit. My aunt's house wasn't, but their next door neighbors had one of those built-into-the-ground houses, which we thought was cool as hell at the time because we could walk on the "roof," which was actually just part of the "yard." Those people had a little blond hippie kid who they encouraged to call them by their first names - I wonder what kind of an addict he is today.
What we weren't fond of was the fact my aunt's house had no electricity or running water (by choice - hippies, remember) so that while we sort of enjoyed being hosed off outside for our showers, we did NOT enjoy the sun going down at 9:00 and them not allowing us to use the Coleman lanterns too much for fear of wasting the oil. Dude, if I can't read at night, even back in the day, I start to get panicky and weird. And since bedtime was strictly enforced to us all during the school year, Summer vacation was NOT when I wanted to go to bed at 9:00, damn it.
And do not EVER try to pass carob off as chocolate to me, ever, ever again. Same goes for rice cakes as a substitute for bread, bagels, English muffins or what have you. Admittedly Sister and I did have a fun time there, especially amongst ourselves, mostly by making fun of everyone around us and also amusing ourselves for hours every day singing Eddie Rabbit while swinging endlessly on the miraculously provided swing set. I actually don't recall ever really being bored while we were there, which is really crazy. They took us to a couple of really cool concerts-in-the-park things and also to see Raiders of the Lost Ark, which scared the living shit out of us on the big screen, and I am G-D OLD.
Fond memories of the Summer of '81. But I really do greatly enjoy lights and reading at night and water and my dvr, I really do.
Happy Cinco de Mayo - have a big fat Margarita for me, ya hear?
Work is just stupid too, so no talking about that either.
We were making more jokes about forming a compound/bunker the other day (because we're hysterical like that) and then I remembered something. We'd both be terrible in a place like that. Not only does he start to break out in the cold sweats if he doesn't have his daily dose of Fox News or the equivalent, but I get pretty grumpy away from the interwebs after a short time. Embarrassing but true. And that's only really a small part of it.
My parents bought an RV when I was nine and we spent many fun summers traveling around the country and also spending a couple of whole summers in New York. My parents always joked about how us kids didn't know from "roughing it" and that if we were ever forced to camp in an actual tent, we'd be horrified. Well, they weren't entirely right, but fairly close. We spent a fun weekend tent camping in the North Carolina mountains one beautiful Fall and I also spent three wet days in a tent at the Woodstock reunion in 1994 that ranks up there in the top five vacations of my life. But I will say I can only handle a tent if the weather is nice and chilly. The one time we tried camping in North Florida one Memorial Day weekend is a nightmare I've been mostly successful at blocking out completely. The heat. The bugs. The skin sticking together -(Zexy)- Hell no; you can HAVE that shit.
I like TV too. There, I said it. Our motorhome had a little black & white antenna'd thing that was mostly a pain in the ass and we rarely used it. But it made us feel good just knowing it was there.
Then this one Summer, my parents sent us to stay with our hippie aunt and uncle for a few weeks. I laugh now knowing it was actually only two weeks or so when it seemed like a lifetime then. These people lived in a commune-ish place in WAAAY upstate New York, like close to Canada, and they lived pretty much isolated from civilization on top of a mountain or some shit. My aunt's house wasn't, but their next door neighbors had one of those built-into-the-ground houses, which we thought was cool as hell at the time because we could walk on the "roof," which was actually just part of the "yard." Those people had a little blond hippie kid who they encouraged to call them by their first names - I wonder what kind of an addict he is today.
What we weren't fond of was the fact my aunt's house had no electricity or running water (by choice - hippies, remember) so that while we sort of enjoyed being hosed off outside for our showers, we did NOT enjoy the sun going down at 9:00 and them not allowing us to use the Coleman lanterns too much for fear of wasting the oil. Dude, if I can't read at night, even back in the day, I start to get panicky and weird. And since bedtime was strictly enforced to us all during the school year, Summer vacation was NOT when I wanted to go to bed at 9:00, damn it.
And do not EVER try to pass carob off as chocolate to me, ever, ever again. Same goes for rice cakes as a substitute for bread, bagels, English muffins or what have you. Admittedly Sister and I did have a fun time there, especially amongst ourselves, mostly by making fun of everyone around us and also amusing ourselves for hours every day singing Eddie Rabbit while swinging endlessly on the miraculously provided swing set. I actually don't recall ever really being bored while we were there, which is really crazy. They took us to a couple of really cool concerts-in-the-park things and also to see Raiders of the Lost Ark, which scared the living shit out of us on the big screen, and I am G-D OLD.
Fond memories of the Summer of '81. But I really do greatly enjoy lights and reading at night and water and my dvr, I really do.
Happy Cinco de Mayo - have a big fat Margarita for me, ya hear?
Friday, April 24, 2009
Like James Brown I too feel good
I'm all bubbly and cheerful today, for no real discernable reason. Well, there are reasons I guess. I'm not sure why I feel the need to qualify being in a good mood; maybe I should have that looked at.
The conference yesterday was surprisingly great. After a hellish trip through downtown traffic, being forced to park in a parking garage (I have an irrational fear of parking garages; maybe from watching too many movies where someone gets killed in one or maybe from a time when I was so high going to see a movie and having to park in one where it felt like we would just keep driving in circles up and up and up until we reached the sky, I don't know) and walking at a brisk pace when really I wanted to run into the convention center so I wouldn't be late - the day got much better from there.
The speakers they had were amazing and that always helps. I scoff a lot at self-help things, Oprahisms and the like, but I swear - you get the right kind of person with an energetic and inspiring attitude and I will be your drone every time. And the funny part is it's all stuff I already know; the power of positive thinking, being open to possibility, that everything in your life results from choices you make, that you're the only one who can truly give yourself happiness - that could all be filed under D for Duh. But sometimes you need to hear those things to feel like you've gained back that positive perspective on things. I wish they had these things every month instead of once a year.
I am a natural born worrywart. ("Wart" is such an ugly word; who thought of that? I'd much rather be a worryflower or a worrybunny) I don't know if it's the Jew gene, the fact that my dad and his mother are like this or just the luck of the draw, but I hate it. It's exhausting and also a big waste of time. If I could somehow figure out how to make it stop completely (besides self-medicating), I'd be one happy bitch. But some of the thinking tools that were shared yesterday were definitely a good start and they gave out one of the speaker's books to us so maybe I WILL become a self-help nut. That would be a treat, wouldn't it?
Also, I won a door prize - dinner for two at the Blue Marlin, a trendy downtown restaurant. Weirdly at beginning of the day when they announced there were a bunch of great prizes I got a strong feeling I was going to win one. That goes against all pessimistic thinking, so I'm now certain I'm psychic. More proof. On the way there, I thought of one of Brian's aunts out of the blue; mostly because of the fact that I was thinking about the haircut I'm getting today and that his aunt has had the same 1940's secretary hairstyle since she was a teenager. Then who do I see at the conference, but her. My psychic network hotline was on FIRE and I'm totally playing the lottery this weekend! No. But I should!
It's good to have an ally in the family for situations like this weekend (all described in the last post). I stopped in at my sister-in-law's salon on the way home yesterday and she's as unexcited about the family activities as I am which is great since George is actually her real father! We're getting together for a pre-event lunch today, where we'll pick up presents and whatever and she's also cutting my hair. Being close with her makes me not the outsider and that's comforting in awkward family situations. Just like my own sister and I are when we have to deal with OUR family. Sisters are truly magical things, especially when they share your sense of black-hearted humor.
Still no period yet.
Curious.
Happy Friday! Keep on rockin' in the free world.
The conference yesterday was surprisingly great. After a hellish trip through downtown traffic, being forced to park in a parking garage (I have an irrational fear of parking garages; maybe from watching too many movies where someone gets killed in one or maybe from a time when I was so high going to see a movie and having to park in one where it felt like we would just keep driving in circles up and up and up until we reached the sky, I don't know) and walking at a brisk pace when really I wanted to run into the convention center so I wouldn't be late - the day got much better from there.
The speakers they had were amazing and that always helps. I scoff a lot at self-help things, Oprahisms and the like, but I swear - you get the right kind of person with an energetic and inspiring attitude and I will be your drone every time. And the funny part is it's all stuff I already know; the power of positive thinking, being open to possibility, that everything in your life results from choices you make, that you're the only one who can truly give yourself happiness - that could all be filed under D for Duh. But sometimes you need to hear those things to feel like you've gained back that positive perspective on things. I wish they had these things every month instead of once a year.
I am a natural born worrywart. ("Wart" is such an ugly word; who thought of that? I'd much rather be a worryflower or a worrybunny) I don't know if it's the Jew gene, the fact that my dad and his mother are like this or just the luck of the draw, but I hate it. It's exhausting and also a big waste of time. If I could somehow figure out how to make it stop completely (besides self-medicating), I'd be one happy bitch. But some of the thinking tools that were shared yesterday were definitely a good start and they gave out one of the speaker's books to us so maybe I WILL become a self-help nut. That would be a treat, wouldn't it?
Also, I won a door prize - dinner for two at the Blue Marlin, a trendy downtown restaurant. Weirdly at beginning of the day when they announced there were a bunch of great prizes I got a strong feeling I was going to win one. That goes against all pessimistic thinking, so I'm now certain I'm psychic. More proof. On the way there, I thought of one of Brian's aunts out of the blue; mostly because of the fact that I was thinking about the haircut I'm getting today and that his aunt has had the same 1940's secretary hairstyle since she was a teenager. Then who do I see at the conference, but her. My psychic network hotline was on FIRE and I'm totally playing the lottery this weekend! No. But I should!
It's good to have an ally in the family for situations like this weekend (all described in the last post). I stopped in at my sister-in-law's salon on the way home yesterday and she's as unexcited about the family activities as I am which is great since George is actually her real father! We're getting together for a pre-event lunch today, where we'll pick up presents and whatever and she's also cutting my hair. Being close with her makes me not the outsider and that's comforting in awkward family situations. Just like my own sister and I are when we have to deal with OUR family. Sisters are truly magical things, especially when they share your sense of black-hearted humor.
Still no period yet.
Curious.
Happy Friday! Keep on rockin' in the free world.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Storm stories
There were some pretty vicious storms that passed through the Southeast Friday night/Saturday morning. By some miracle (perhaps because it is a holy weekend?) our power never went out all the way, it just did that weird dimming/buzzing thing a few times, which was enough to make me unplug the important things - TV, computer and microwave. You laugh, but when Delorme and I lived in the little house on the lake, our house got hit by lightning and we lost two TV's, a VCR (it was the early 90's), two cordless phones and our microwave. It was then I first learned about the existance of this neat thing called renter's insurance. And the fact it really sucks when you don't have it.
Tornadoes scare the living shit out of me, unlike hurricanes. As a former Floridian, I've experienced them many times to the point I think I'm immune to them. Sure, there was that one summer we had four fairly serious ones in six weeks and lost power for two days and almost had a tree crash through our bedroom, but really? No biggie. Hurricanes give plenty of prior warning and then almost never follow through with much action. I'm not talking about Katrina, Andrew or Hugo here; those are obvious and painful exceptions. But believe me, most of the time the weather forecasters get their panties in a wad for four days, especially the ones in Florida who finally have something to talk about besides hot and humid, everybody gets excited and starts buying plywood, batteries and gallons of water and then usually there's some wind and rain for a day. It's usually a huge letdown, really. Most Floridians have even experienced going outside during one so at least you feel like you've had some excitement over the damn thing. I once made out in the middle of one - that was cool.
But a tornado? Oh hell no. My cousin lived in Missouri for awhile, or it may have been Kansas. One of those states that has Kansas City in it. (Why are there two Kansas Cities? That has always pissed me off) Anyway, she told me after awhile she got used to hearing the tornado siren go off, it happened so often. It didn't even phase her. I don't care how long I lived there; every time I heard that, I would react by simultaneously having a heart attack and shitting my pants. Do not like.
My only real firsthand experiences with the evil bastards was twice. They both happened here, years apart, but very close in proximity. The first time was the night before Delorme and I were splitting up and we were spending the night in that same lake house for the last time with our cat. If the tornado didn't pass directly over our house, it came damn close, judging by the screaming wind, rattling windows and fallen trees all over our yard the next morning. We'd spent the night on a mattress on the floor of the living room with the poor cat squeezed between us and didn't sleep much, if at all. I told him it must be God's way of telling us not to break up but he didn't listen to me and we broke up anyway.
The second one, the way more traumatic of the two, happened on the same lake (Is Lake Murray a tornado magnet? Must research) but after Brian and I had been living together for awhile. We went out with our friends for the day on their boat. That morning we'd checked the weather and while it did look like there was a possibility of overcast skies and possible rain late in the day, it was a bright shiny morning (also the name of the James Frey book I just checked out from the library) and we decided screw it; boat time! These people were actually our Redneck Friends 1.0 and we had just a few weeks before gone riding around in a mud hole with them (oh, you doubted the redneckness?), gotten stuck within the first ten minutes and had to walk three miles to the nearest civilization which happened to be a Waffle House which is like a beacon of all that is good and holy when you're cold and beer-drunk. Wow, got a little off track there.
Anyblah, we went out on their boat, just the four of us. Not sure where their kids were that day, but very thankful now they weren't with us. We tooled around for awhile having a great time, when late in the afternoon the skies did indeed start to darken. Then the sky started to look really weird. The air temperature literally dropped what felt like twenty degrees and looked to be almost this sick yellow/green color, if air could have a color. I forget who spotted it first, but sure enough there in the distance, one of the swirling clouds formed into a funnel before our eyes and dipped down into the water. Had I not actually been so close by on a fucking BOAT, I would've thought it was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen, and I guess now I can actually say it was, since we're alive and all. We actually saw a tornado form, touch down into the lake and become a water spout, spin around for a few minutes and then go back up into the evil cloud from whence it came.
The two shapes I'm scared of most: funnels and that weird pointy shape of the windows of the Amityville Horror house. It's true.
We didn't have time to be freaked out about just seeing that whole situation, because within seconds the clouds went from a light pissy rain to a torrential Noah's Ark situation. Dennis was driving the boat and shouted to Brian he couldn't see past the boat's bow. Brian climbed up there to guide him as lightning stopped fucking around and started getting serious. Michelle and I huddled together in the boat's tiny covered area and I tried to hide my extreme fear and the fact I had started to pray. No one else seemed freaked out and Brian even let out a few WHOOS and ALL-RIGHTS! Dumbass. In retrospect sure I felt dumb, but at the time I seriously thought we weren't going to make it. Though Florida may have made me unaffected by hurricanes, it did give me a healthy respect for lightning, and that's what was scaring me the most.
Of course all's well that ended well and now it's nothing but a stupid story for me to tell whenever someone brings up the subject of tornadoes. Or in this case, even when no one brings it up but I just feel like talking about it.
The only problem I discovered yesterday was not any damage to our house or cars (there had also been widespread hail reported) or any tree limbs down, but came about when we decided to watch the season finale of Friday Night Lights we'd taped the night before. The local news channel, the same one who a month ago swore we were going to be buried in snow for twelve hours straight and we got nary a flake, deemed it necessary to INTERRUPT THE SEASON FINALE OF MY FAVORITE SHOW three or four times throughout the episode. That was in addition to running that constant red line at the bottom that kept telling us we were under severe thunderstorm warnings and a tornado watch until 1 a.m. and that horrible beeping noise. If you don't think I haven't already sent a very angry email to WIS-TV, you don't know me at all.
Happy Easter!
Tornadoes scare the living shit out of me, unlike hurricanes. As a former Floridian, I've experienced them many times to the point I think I'm immune to them. Sure, there was that one summer we had four fairly serious ones in six weeks and lost power for two days and almost had a tree crash through our bedroom, but really? No biggie. Hurricanes give plenty of prior warning and then almost never follow through with much action. I'm not talking about Katrina, Andrew or Hugo here; those are obvious and painful exceptions. But believe me, most of the time the weather forecasters get their panties in a wad for four days, especially the ones in Florida who finally have something to talk about besides hot and humid, everybody gets excited and starts buying plywood, batteries and gallons of water and then usually there's some wind and rain for a day. It's usually a huge letdown, really. Most Floridians have even experienced going outside during one so at least you feel like you've had some excitement over the damn thing. I once made out in the middle of one - that was cool.
But a tornado? Oh hell no. My cousin lived in Missouri for awhile, or it may have been Kansas. One of those states that has Kansas City in it. (Why are there two Kansas Cities? That has always pissed me off) Anyway, she told me after awhile she got used to hearing the tornado siren go off, it happened so often. It didn't even phase her. I don't care how long I lived there; every time I heard that, I would react by simultaneously having a heart attack and shitting my pants. Do not like.
My only real firsthand experiences with the evil bastards was twice. They both happened here, years apart, but very close in proximity. The first time was the night before Delorme and I were splitting up and we were spending the night in that same lake house for the last time with our cat. If the tornado didn't pass directly over our house, it came damn close, judging by the screaming wind, rattling windows and fallen trees all over our yard the next morning. We'd spent the night on a mattress on the floor of the living room with the poor cat squeezed between us and didn't sleep much, if at all. I told him it must be God's way of telling us not to break up but he didn't listen to me and we broke up anyway.
The second one, the way more traumatic of the two, happened on the same lake (Is Lake Murray a tornado magnet? Must research) but after Brian and I had been living together for awhile. We went out with our friends for the day on their boat. That morning we'd checked the weather and while it did look like there was a possibility of overcast skies and possible rain late in the day, it was a bright shiny morning (also the name of the James Frey book I just checked out from the library) and we decided screw it; boat time! These people were actually our Redneck Friends 1.0 and we had just a few weeks before gone riding around in a mud hole with them (oh, you doubted the redneckness?), gotten stuck within the first ten minutes and had to walk three miles to the nearest civilization which happened to be a Waffle House which is like a beacon of all that is good and holy when you're cold and beer-drunk. Wow, got a little off track there.
Anyblah, we went out on their boat, just the four of us. Not sure where their kids were that day, but very thankful now they weren't with us. We tooled around for awhile having a great time, when late in the afternoon the skies did indeed start to darken. Then the sky started to look really weird. The air temperature literally dropped what felt like twenty degrees and looked to be almost this sick yellow/green color, if air could have a color. I forget who spotted it first, but sure enough there in the distance, one of the swirling clouds formed into a funnel before our eyes and dipped down into the water. Had I not actually been so close by on a fucking BOAT, I would've thought it was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen, and I guess now I can actually say it was, since we're alive and all. We actually saw a tornado form, touch down into the lake and become a water spout, spin around for a few minutes and then go back up into the evil cloud from whence it came.
The two shapes I'm scared of most: funnels and that weird pointy shape of the windows of the Amityville Horror house. It's true.
We didn't have time to be freaked out about just seeing that whole situation, because within seconds the clouds went from a light pissy rain to a torrential Noah's Ark situation. Dennis was driving the boat and shouted to Brian he couldn't see past the boat's bow. Brian climbed up there to guide him as lightning stopped fucking around and started getting serious. Michelle and I huddled together in the boat's tiny covered area and I tried to hide my extreme fear and the fact I had started to pray. No one else seemed freaked out and Brian even let out a few WHOOS and ALL-RIGHTS! Dumbass. In retrospect sure I felt dumb, but at the time I seriously thought we weren't going to make it. Though Florida may have made me unaffected by hurricanes, it did give me a healthy respect for lightning, and that's what was scaring me the most.
Of course all's well that ended well and now it's nothing but a stupid story for me to tell whenever someone brings up the subject of tornadoes. Or in this case, even when no one brings it up but I just feel like talking about it.
The only problem I discovered yesterday was not any damage to our house or cars (there had also been widespread hail reported) or any tree limbs down, but came about when we decided to watch the season finale of Friday Night Lights we'd taped the night before. The local news channel, the same one who a month ago swore we were going to be buried in snow for twelve hours straight and we got nary a flake, deemed it necessary to INTERRUPT THE SEASON FINALE OF MY FAVORITE SHOW three or four times throughout the episode. That was in addition to running that constant red line at the bottom that kept telling us we were under severe thunderstorm warnings and a tornado watch until 1 a.m. and that horrible beeping noise. If you don't think I haven't already sent a very angry email to WIS-TV, you don't know me at all.
Happy Easter!
Friday, April 10, 2009
And a Good Friday to you too
I'm disappointed to report that last night went really well and I had a great time. The service was good, the food was good and there's nothing to make fun of. I hate when that happens. While his parents did indeed tell everyone they introduced me to that I'm Jewish, it wasn't awkward or embarrassing, but made me feel something like pride about my family and my roots. My dad would've been really excited to hear all about it. And when the lady sitting next to me said at the end of the night, I feel so lucky to have met you and that I got to sit next to someone who knew so much about this, I may have even gotten a little teary. Hmph.
Of course she did also ask the Number One Most Popular Question I will forever and always get asked: Do you all have any children? I don't know why I still get suprised when this happens, but either way his parents and I shared a little private laugh and I told her, Not yet but we're working on it with a lot of dedication right now.
I learned a couple of interesting things too (remember that I am a religious retard so any discoveries I make is most likely stuff everybody else already knows): that Jesus' Last Supper was also a Passover seder and that he died at 3:00 p.m. the next day (Good Friday). I knew the day; I didn't know the time. I like knowing things like that. I also like that while I used to think Brian's and my religions were polar opposites, I now know that isn't true and it's nice they go together so seemlessly. Things may have been trickier if he was a Muslim and I was a Jew - I could see the potential for some awkwardness there.
There are still a lot of things I'm not sure about with what my stance is regarding religion. Many, many questions and a few issues. But in the meantime, I enjoy the occasional trip to church with his parents and also the actual church itself. Which is a good thing, because we'll be back there again on Sunday. Twice in one week - God, are You seeing this? I promise I'm not trying to butter you up for any Big Thing I may be asking of You lately; it just so happens the two holidays fell really close together this year!
Other than church activities, I don't have much planned for the weekend. We're still in a financial quandry thanks to that piece of shit we call a truck, so that tends to put some limitations on entertainment choices. It's okay though; I'm about to make myself presentable enough to go to the library, where there are many free books sitting there waiting for me to pick them up. And as I've said before, as long as I have a good book, I will never be bored.
Of course there's plenty of house and yard work to be done as well, but let's not get crazy.
Of course she did also ask the Number One Most Popular Question I will forever and always get asked: Do you all have any children? I don't know why I still get suprised when this happens, but either way his parents and I shared a little private laugh and I told her, Not yet but we're working on it with a lot of dedication right now.
I learned a couple of interesting things too (remember that I am a religious retard so any discoveries I make is most likely stuff everybody else already knows): that Jesus' Last Supper was also a Passover seder and that he died at 3:00 p.m. the next day (Good Friday). I knew the day; I didn't know the time. I like knowing things like that. I also like that while I used to think Brian's and my religions were polar opposites, I now know that isn't true and it's nice they go together so seemlessly. Things may have been trickier if he was a Muslim and I was a Jew - I could see the potential for some awkwardness there.
There are still a lot of things I'm not sure about with what my stance is regarding religion. Many, many questions and a few issues. But in the meantime, I enjoy the occasional trip to church with his parents and also the actual church itself. Which is a good thing, because we'll be back there again on Sunday. Twice in one week - God, are You seeing this? I promise I'm not trying to butter you up for any Big Thing I may be asking of You lately; it just so happens the two holidays fell really close together this year!
Other than church activities, I don't have much planned for the weekend. We're still in a financial quandry thanks to that piece of shit we call a truck, so that tends to put some limitations on entertainment choices. It's okay though; I'm about to make myself presentable enough to go to the library, where there are many free books sitting there waiting for me to pick them up. And as I've said before, as long as I have a good book, I will never be bored.
Of course there's plenty of house and yard work to be done as well, but let's not get crazy.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Oy - tonight we'll knosh until we plotz
Yiddish words are so much fun.
Well the day is finally here - tonight is the church Passover dinner, which is sure to bring the laughs. I guess it's sort of a big deal to me as well, as I feel we've come a long way from when I felt like the black sheepess of the family, with their oldest son living in sin with a Jew and all. From when the first time I ever visited his mom and George's house and noticed a book titled "How to Lead Your Jewish Friends to the Messiah," displayed surreptitiously on their coffee table. Back then there was a lot of tentativeness from them, with conversations like this:
Iris: I'm sorry if you can't eat this Kim ("Kee-yim,") but I put bacon in the potato salad
Me: That's okay; I'm not a practicing Jew and I love pork.
Iris: Well, I made a ham too; is that okay?
Me: ...
and
George: What tribe in Israel does your family descend from?
Me: I didn't know they had tribes in Israel, so I have no idea. Leviticus?
(Brian later confirmed there are indeed tribes that Jews come from and what's sad about that is he has a lot more knowledge of Judiasm than I do, thus he makes me look bad.)
I'm sure there's potential for some awkwardness tonight as well however, as George has little to none in the social filters department. I can picture him introducing me to people repeatedly and gleefully telling them I'm Jewish. In fact I know he will. Sort of different but also similar, a few weeks ago they had their next door neighbor over for Sunday "dinner." (I will never say that without quotation marks). When he introduced us, George told the guy I used to live in upstate New York. This guy is from Michigan. From what I can tell, Michigan is a long way from New York so I wasn't quite sure how to respond and neither was the neighbor. One thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, except maybe we're both Yankees in George's mind and so there was potential for bonding? Also please note I lived in New York the first five years of my life and then lived and grew up in Florida. I guess he saves that part for when he introduces me to anyone from anywhere in the south. But I'm already prepared for the weirdness tonight, so no problem. I do wish I had this shirt to wear tonight though:
Not that any of the Baptists would get it. Catholics would, because like Jews they are very wise in the ways of the guilt. I always say the only difference is Jews are born with it and Catholics have to go to school to learn it - ZING! I crack myself up.
We'll probably join them at church on Sunday as well to celebrate Easter. I gots to have all my bases covered, yanno? Plus I've always loved Easter. Which side are you on as far as Cadbury vs. Reese eggs? For me it's Reese's all the way. (I'm sure Heather will pick Cadbury because she likes being ornery that way with me, hee hee!)What the F is up with that yellow shit in the middle of the Cadbury? I know it's supposed to be yolk, but EWWWW. And if the white stuff is marshmellow, well then I hate marshmellow so there you go. Sister developed a little problem with Peeps a few years back and I'm not sure if she's yet to be able to be in the same room with them again without gagging, but again no marshmellow for me. I will roast them and hand them to you all day long but I refuse to put a black charred sticky sugar blob in my mouth hole ever. They are acceptable in Rice Krispie treats and that is all.
And for now, that IS all.
Monday, April 6, 2009
From zero to bitch
Today is one of those days I feel like my fight or flight instinct is on high alert and I either want to punch someone in the face (myself would suffice) or get in my shitty car, start driving in any direction and BE GONE. This doesn't happen very often, I have no idea what brought it on and I know it will pass soon. Having this much pent up unprovoked rage isn't healthy, so tonight's exercise might have to include more than just a nice neighborhood walk. A punching bag would prove very effective, but I don't own one of those. Not sure why.
I thought the work day would be pretty laid back, as the boss isn't here and I have a light week scheduled. Don't ever go into work thinking that - I should've known better. My phone hasn't stopped all day and at the other end of the line is some asshole asking me not relevant or else calling to bitch to me about shit that's out of our control.
Brian picked the wrong day to also call many many times. Not totally his fault, but uhhhh....
Rage. It's not good for the skin.
The repeat performance IUI went well on Saturday. This time we made the trip without his mom tagging along which was much cooler - she doesn't make me feel pressure per se; we just can't totally relax and be ourselves in front of her. That puts a strain on people who curse a lot.
We got there right on time at 10:00 and they immediately called Brian in to do his thing. He mentioned he wished he had a t-shirt made up that said "Super Stroker" that he could wear for these occasions but I took it in stride, knowing that's how he deals with being nervous - the stupid jokes. I never really thought about it, but unless you're in the porn business, semi-public masterbation must be a little bit stressful. But like last time, he handled his business (literally!) like a champ and was done in less than fifteen minutes. Whoever said Hustler magazine doesn't have its useful place in society has never gone through fertility treatments.
So thank you, Larry Flynt; you provided us with enough time to go grab some Egg McMuffins before it was time for me to have to be back in the office for my part of the procedure. That McDonald's right across the street from the clinic must do a ton of business from the infertile portion of the population. Just saying.
I had a different doctor than the one I've seen previously and this one wasn't young or cute, but he was a little old and weird. I liked him all the same. He reiterated my follicles looked good, that there were three big ones this time and 95 million sperm. Not to get too graphic, but he also noted my cervix gave obvious signs of ovulation, which nobody said last time. I know better than to be all hopey this time, but it was encouraging to hear that everything was as good if not better than last time. We also topped off the procedure with some more activity of our own, because you know - if 95 million is good, 190 million is better. And activity in our case usually begets more activity, though I had to remind him last night he accidentally deposited everything in the wrong location.
Okay, that was just gross. But true!
The doctor did say something weirdly comforting; that all we can all do is our best with trying for this and then let God and/or magic take care of the rest. I completely agree. But here's the thing. I don't want to hear from well-meaning people who tell me maybe it's not meant to be. I know this to be true, but I'm not ready to give up yet, so I'd rather not even enter into that line of thinking or conversation yet. My aunt told me that on the phone yesterday and I know she means well, she's just stupid sometimes.
That's like a comment I read somewhere not too long ago on a fertility site where someone chimed in that people who aren't able to have kids should probably take it as a sign that God is trying to thin the herd and keep from breeding too many idiots. I wanted so badly to get ahold of that person's contact information. Just to explain some of the examples of awesome parenting I've seen in my time - because in thier opinion everybody who currently has children must certainly be of high intelligence and background. Okay, that's enough of that - not in the right frame of mind to really be discussing this subject AT ALL.
Other than this, I sadly missed the cousin's girlfriend (baby mama) while she was here; she flew back to Florida yesterday. When Brian was over there Saturday night, she told him, "I wish Kim would've come with you - I really wanted to show her the baby!" Ahaha! I bet you did, honey! DARN IT ALL! What's awesome about that is that his cousin, aunt and uncle are still here for another week so I'll definitely make a point to visit them; they weren't the ones I was trying to avoid. Yeee!
The next couple of nights we're having our last hurrah of frozen overnight temperatures. While at first I was begrudging having to bring all the plants back inside, I just realized this is a good opportunity to have a couple more fireplace nights. And there is nothing like the fireplace (besides actual real sedatives) to calm me, so this couldn't have come at a better time.
Signing off now.
Click click boom!
I thought the work day would be pretty laid back, as the boss isn't here and I have a light week scheduled. Don't ever go into work thinking that - I should've known better. My phone hasn't stopped all day and at the other end of the line is some asshole asking me not relevant or else calling to bitch to me about shit that's out of our control.
Brian picked the wrong day to also call many many times. Not totally his fault, but uhhhh....
Rage. It's not good for the skin.
The repeat performance IUI went well on Saturday. This time we made the trip without his mom tagging along which was much cooler - she doesn't make me feel pressure per se; we just can't totally relax and be ourselves in front of her. That puts a strain on people who curse a lot.
We got there right on time at 10:00 and they immediately called Brian in to do his thing. He mentioned he wished he had a t-shirt made up that said "Super Stroker" that he could wear for these occasions but I took it in stride, knowing that's how he deals with being nervous - the stupid jokes. I never really thought about it, but unless you're in the porn business, semi-public masterbation must be a little bit stressful. But like last time, he handled his business (literally!) like a champ and was done in less than fifteen minutes. Whoever said Hustler magazine doesn't have its useful place in society has never gone through fertility treatments.
So thank you, Larry Flynt; you provided us with enough time to go grab some Egg McMuffins before it was time for me to have to be back in the office for my part of the procedure. That McDonald's right across the street from the clinic must do a ton of business from the infertile portion of the population. Just saying.
I had a different doctor than the one I've seen previously and this one wasn't young or cute, but he was a little old and weird. I liked him all the same. He reiterated my follicles looked good, that there were three big ones this time and 95 million sperm. Not to get too graphic, but he also noted my cervix gave obvious signs of ovulation, which nobody said last time. I know better than to be all hopey this time, but it was encouraging to hear that everything was as good if not better than last time. We also topped off the procedure with some more activity of our own, because you know - if 95 million is good, 190 million is better. And activity in our case usually begets more activity, though I had to remind him last night he accidentally deposited everything in the wrong location.
Okay, that was just gross. But true!
The doctor did say something weirdly comforting; that all we can all do is our best with trying for this and then let God and/or magic take care of the rest. I completely agree. But here's the thing. I don't want to hear from well-meaning people who tell me maybe it's not meant to be. I know this to be true, but I'm not ready to give up yet, so I'd rather not even enter into that line of thinking or conversation yet. My aunt told me that on the phone yesterday and I know she means well, she's just stupid sometimes.
That's like a comment I read somewhere not too long ago on a fertility site where someone chimed in that people who aren't able to have kids should probably take it as a sign that God is trying to thin the herd and keep from breeding too many idiots. I wanted so badly to get ahold of that person's contact information. Just to explain some of the examples of awesome parenting I've seen in my time - because in thier opinion everybody who currently has children must certainly be of high intelligence and background. Okay, that's enough of that - not in the right frame of mind to really be discussing this subject AT ALL.
Other than this, I sadly missed the cousin's girlfriend (baby mama) while she was here; she flew back to Florida yesterday. When Brian was over there Saturday night, she told him, "I wish Kim would've come with you - I really wanted to show her the baby!" Ahaha! I bet you did, honey! DARN IT ALL! What's awesome about that is that his cousin, aunt and uncle are still here for another week so I'll definitely make a point to visit them; they weren't the ones I was trying to avoid. Yeee!
The next couple of nights we're having our last hurrah of frozen overnight temperatures. While at first I was begrudging having to bring all the plants back inside, I just realized this is a good opportunity to have a couple more fireplace nights. And there is nothing like the fireplace (besides actual real sedatives) to calm me, so this couldn't have come at a better time.
Signing off now.
Click click boom!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Birds and bees and syringes and pee sticks
How naive I used to be. There was a time, right around the time I got my first period (The summer I turned twelve - I like to compare that with other girls; so, when and where did you first get yours? I was in New York with my sister visiting family for the summer, my grandmother had taken us grocery shopping and then to McDonald's for lunch, Sister and I went to use the bathroom and we discovered that Girl You'll be a Woman Now) that I thought having a baby was easy. You meet a nice guy, get married (I was taught old school), you and your husband share a special hug, and you have babies. SILLY ME. As if a big penis doesn't sound scary enough when you're learning about the birds and bees (What do birds and bees have to do with sex? Anyone?) - I'm glad I didn't know back then it was also going to involve a bunch of peeing (both in cups and on sticks), leg spreading (for strangers), calendar checking, day counting and blood donating (without the complimentary juice, cookies and t-shirt afterwards).
This is the part where I'm supposed to say, but look at how amazingly far technology has come; the fact that so many people are able to have babies now who wouldn't have even twenty years ago. Okay, yeah. Yay for technology. And what about the part where his parents so generously offered to help us out with this, a true blessing. Yes. Still thankful, yes. Correct me if I'm wrong but I am allowed to have more than happy unicorn kitten fart feelings over this whole thing, because to be honest, I'm a little worn out from all the positivity.
It's hard to believe, but it's already been four months of this baby business. One third of a year. I now know why they tell you in the beginning to be prepared for a time consuming situation and I should have heeded that warning a little more seriously. This seems like it's been going on a really long time, is all I'm saying.
But whatever. What else did I have to do the past few months anyway, right? Haha.
I peed on yet another stick this morning, and though it brought bad flashbacks to a couple of weeks ago, this time it was just to see if I was ovulating. Which it said I am. When I called Monique (she's on my damn nerves, especially after causing me to have a freaking car accident yesterday) (yes I've decided to blame her) to report the results, she said and I quote "Ruh-Roh." Huh? I thought you said only yesterday that if the test was positive, we go forth with the IUI on Saturday instead of Sunday - what's the biggie? But no; a positive test result was not good enough for Monique, that pain in the ass - she wanted me to go in and get MORE blood drawn just to make sure. Sweet Christ.
But okay, I hung up with her and hurried on downtown, made it there in twelve minutes, got pricked yet again (left arm now has serious track marks) and paid another seventy bucks just to confirm that yes, the test was correct. Now I no longer need to get an Hcg shot (What? Gee willicers, my night just won't be complete without Brian giving me an injection!) and everything's a go for tomorrow morning's trip to Charleston.
We have to be there by 10:00 and she warned me that the Cooper River Bridge Run is also tomorrow morning, so we'll probably run into some horrendous traffic which I'm very excited about.
Despite everything I just said (bitched about would be the more accurate term), I am still excited about everything. It sometimes takes awhile, for us anyway, for good things to come to us, but they always do eventually. Patience has never been my strong suit, so even though it sounds like I'm angry and bitter it's mostly just me blowing off some steam. I do recognize the positive in all this. If I do end up getting a kid, that kid will eventually fuck up and look at all this extra guilt making material I already have:
"Do you know what I went through just to have you and now you think it's okay to make a "D" in Algebra?"
"But Mom, you never even PASSED Algebra!"
"Don't talk back to me, Young Lady/Man!"
I am happy, it's just not totally obvious right now.
In other news, Delorme just stopped by to say hi and I was happy to finally be able to give him his long overdue birthday present. Except when I handed him the six pack of the German beer, only five beers were present. He laughed and said had Brian been here, he would've shared it with him anyway. I think I'm going to smack him in the mouth when he gets home, just for fun.
This is the part where I'm supposed to say, but look at how amazingly far technology has come; the fact that so many people are able to have babies now who wouldn't have even twenty years ago. Okay, yeah. Yay for technology. And what about the part where his parents so generously offered to help us out with this, a true blessing. Yes. Still thankful, yes. Correct me if I'm wrong but I am allowed to have more than happy unicorn kitten fart feelings over this whole thing, because to be honest, I'm a little worn out from all the positivity.
It's hard to believe, but it's already been four months of this baby business. One third of a year. I now know why they tell you in the beginning to be prepared for a time consuming situation and I should have heeded that warning a little more seriously. This seems like it's been going on a really long time, is all I'm saying.
But whatever. What else did I have to do the past few months anyway, right? Haha.
I peed on yet another stick this morning, and though it brought bad flashbacks to a couple of weeks ago, this time it was just to see if I was ovulating. Which it said I am. When I called Monique (she's on my damn nerves, especially after causing me to have a freaking car accident yesterday) (yes I've decided to blame her) to report the results, she said and I quote "Ruh-Roh." Huh? I thought you said only yesterday that if the test was positive, we go forth with the IUI on Saturday instead of Sunday - what's the biggie? But no; a positive test result was not good enough for Monique, that pain in the ass - she wanted me to go in and get MORE blood drawn just to make sure. Sweet Christ.
But okay, I hung up with her and hurried on downtown, made it there in twelve minutes, got pricked yet again (left arm now has serious track marks) and paid another seventy bucks just to confirm that yes, the test was correct. Now I no longer need to get an Hcg shot (What? Gee willicers, my night just won't be complete without Brian giving me an injection!) and everything's a go for tomorrow morning's trip to Charleston.
We have to be there by 10:00 and she warned me that the Cooper River Bridge Run is also tomorrow morning, so we'll probably run into some horrendous traffic which I'm very excited about.
Despite everything I just said (bitched about would be the more accurate term), I am still excited about everything. It sometimes takes awhile, for us anyway, for good things to come to us, but they always do eventually. Patience has never been my strong suit, so even though it sounds like I'm angry and bitter it's mostly just me blowing off some steam. I do recognize the positive in all this. If I do end up getting a kid, that kid will eventually fuck up and look at all this extra guilt making material I already have:
"Do you know what I went through just to have you and now you think it's okay to make a "D" in Algebra?"
"But Mom, you never even PASSED Algebra!"
"Don't talk back to me, Young Lady/Man!"
I am happy, it's just not totally obvious right now.
In other news, Delorme just stopped by to say hi and I was happy to finally be able to give him his long overdue birthday present. Except when I handed him the six pack of the German beer, only five beers were present. He laughed and said had Brian been here, he would've shared it with him anyway. I think I'm going to smack him in the mouth when he gets home, just for fun.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
I gave it to him in the rear but he was cool about it
I tweeted, twatted or whatever the hell the other day "Just when you think it can't get any worse someone sneaks it in your butt." Oh, the prophetic nature of that statement. That's why you'll never hear me say something stupid like, "It just can't get any worse!" because OF COURSE IT CAN AND IT USUALLY WILL!!!
Money has been a major issue for over week. Add to that the general stresses of a busy work week, a broke-down truck (it's fixed, praise Jesus) and many more doctor's visits with all the poking, prodding and important time-sensitive activities that go along with all that. Just today I was back there again, with strict instructions to be waiting on a call from Nurse Monique to give me further instructions. Of course she called while I was racing back to work in a monsoon from running errands on my "lunch hour."
I was stopped at a red light behind some other cars. My phone rang. I could HEAR it; I could not FIND it. While searching frantically through the black hole I call a black purse (swapping that bitch out tonight, I can tell you that much), my foot slipped off the clutch and I bonked into the car in front of me. Hard. Fuckitty Fuck. While I sat there in shock for a second, I noticed his license plate was of the South Carolina state government employee variety. Aces!
We both got out and proceeded to inspect the damages. I was already trying to calculate how much our insurance would go up, but was having a hard time seeing any damage to his car. He couldn't see anything either and then it hit me. I knocked on my front fender area and said, "Oh, I forgot - this car is plastic!" He kind of laughed, inspected his shit for another few seconds and said, "Well, alright. Thanks for stopping anyway." I said, "No, thank you Sir!" FOR BEING THE COOLEST GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEE EVER!!! The whole ordeal only lasted as long as it took the light to turn green again (which tells you how messed up the friggin' lights are around here) and we were soon both on our way again.
What. The. HELL.
Well. Thank God it ended up like that and after I stopped shaking I felt so much relief, I kind of started laughing and haven't really stopped. This isn't sane laughter by any means, but what the hey, it's laughter.
Luckily the only things I have to worry about the next few days are having sex tonight (nurse's orders, no joke), peeing on an ovulation test tomorrow and scheduling the next baby making time for either Saturday or Sunday, based on what my pee says tomorrow. After the week I've had, all that will be a total breeze.
I'm spent.
Money has been a major issue for over week. Add to that the general stresses of a busy work week, a broke-down truck (it's fixed, praise Jesus) and many more doctor's visits with all the poking, prodding and important time-sensitive activities that go along with all that. Just today I was back there again, with strict instructions to be waiting on a call from Nurse Monique to give me further instructions. Of course she called while I was racing back to work in a monsoon from running errands on my "lunch hour."
I was stopped at a red light behind some other cars. My phone rang. I could HEAR it; I could not FIND it. While searching frantically through the black hole I call a black purse (swapping that bitch out tonight, I can tell you that much), my foot slipped off the clutch and I bonked into the car in front of me. Hard. Fuckitty Fuck. While I sat there in shock for a second, I noticed his license plate was of the South Carolina state government employee variety. Aces!
We both got out and proceeded to inspect the damages. I was already trying to calculate how much our insurance would go up, but was having a hard time seeing any damage to his car. He couldn't see anything either and then it hit me. I knocked on my front fender area and said, "Oh, I forgot - this car is plastic!" He kind of laughed, inspected his shit for another few seconds and said, "Well, alright. Thanks for stopping anyway." I said, "No, thank you Sir!" FOR BEING THE COOLEST GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEE EVER!!! The whole ordeal only lasted as long as it took the light to turn green again (which tells you how messed up the friggin' lights are around here) and we were soon both on our way again.
What. The. HELL.
Well. Thank God it ended up like that and after I stopped shaking I felt so much relief, I kind of started laughing and haven't really stopped. This isn't sane laughter by any means, but what the hey, it's laughter.
Luckily the only things I have to worry about the next few days are having sex tonight (nurse's orders, no joke), peeing on an ovulation test tomorrow and scheduling the next baby making time for either Saturday or Sunday, based on what my pee says tomorrow. After the week I've had, all that will be a total breeze.
I'm spent.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Pondering
Painful zit locations: Inside the nose, under an eyebrow. Currently l have them in both places and what are the odds of that? I thought for one quick minute about putting zit medicine in my nose but then I remembered I haven’t had any zit medicine since 1989.
A fun game I’ve been playing lately in my head is thinking “I pity the fool,” and applying it to whenever I have an exchange with someone. As in, “Kim, will you be available for a short meeting next Wednesday?” Me (in my head): “I pity the fool who asks me to go to a meeting.” It’s fun times. In my head. I pity the fool who’s in my head.
Not that I really want to, but sometimes I think it would be fun to live in an apartment again. Not like the kinds I’ve lived in before per se, which were mostly glorified more expensive dorm rooms, but one of those long-term deals, where it seems like you’re living in a house you can decorate and do whatever to. It would also have to have some sort of outdoor space, preferably a flower and plant-laden terrace. Apartments are so great for social observances, what with the living in awkwardly close quarters with a wide variety of total strangers. I can practice my people wondering with the neighbors I have now, especially now that everyone and their brother has taken to walking their dogs the same time I do (I’ll be switching it up and going in the morning for the next few days, because all the barking and leash pulling is pretty annoying), but it’s not quite the same thing. I don’t miss the limited parking and nocturnal loudness.
Speaking of voyeurism. I really love my private office still and no longer feel guilty about working with my door shut. What I’ve found is that I like to work in complete silence, which I already knew. Low volume talk radio is acceptable sometimes, but music distracts me. Also, these walls are thin as shitwafers. I don’t try to eavesdrop, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. There’s this semi-annoying girl here who works in an office next door to mine. She must be newly out of school, because she still has the total sorority vibe going on, like ending every sentence as if she’s asking a question? Even things that are obviously not questions but declarative statements? And using “like” a lot (well, I do that too, so that’s cool) and that high-pitched squeaky voice…ugh. Today she must’ve been on a personal call (at least I hope so) because I overheard her say, “I don’t care what excuse he comes up with this time; he’ll be lucky if his stuff’s still INSIDE the house when he gets home!” Ooh, naughty fraternity boyfriend, what did you do wrong? It was awesome. I just have to remember when it comes to personal phone calls and bodily functions to try to keep it down.
Why you shouldn’t lie, reason number infinity: I had felt guilty for asking for time off a few weeks ago, even though I haven’t taken any significant days off since October (those Christmas weeks don’t count; everybody’s off) but instead of just putting in the leave request and leaving it at that, oh ho ho NOOO, I had to go and make up some vague Mother-related reason to my boss. IDIOT! Then of course I figured out I couldn’t go to Florida and I realized I couldn’t just forget about the time off I’d asked for, especially when my boss told me yesterday she hoped I had a good time in Florida! It was like some Mission Impossible shit gone wrong, only without the exploding gum. So now I’m taking Monday and Tuesday off for absolutely no reason whatsoever, except to save face. I have plenty of leave time built up so it’s not that big of a deal except I feel like an asshole for lying. I’m planning on doing some penance for it and using the next five days to do some productive house things. I’m still totally underachieving on the laundry front, so there’s no time like the present to catch up. Imagine how psyched I am about a vacation at home. Not even a little bit. Although time off of work is still pretty cool, so I’m sure I’ll be more on board with the idea by tonight or tomorrow.
Last night I came across the movie Rock Star playing on the annoying E channel (they love to throw in a long commercial break every time anything emotional is going on to totally ruin the mood). I doubt most people have seen or have the same fierce love I have for this 2001 Mark Wahlberg extravaganza, but it is one of my favorites. It was weird to see Jennifer Anniston again, back when she was still W.B. (With Brad) and no one could foresee the bleak future that was soon to be her love life. But really - anyone who still has a soft spot for 80’s hair metal would get a kick out of the movie, if for only the soundtrack. It’s kind of a lot like Boogie Nights except with rock & roll instead of porn and a much lesser caliber cast. Except Marky Mark, who I will love until the end of time. Say hello to your mutha for me, Mark. SNL joke, sorry.
I get pretty pro-plant at this time of year. How unoriginal of me. Usually what happens around now is all the plants get moved back outside (check) since if we do get another frost it would be mild enough for the plants to withstand as long as they’re under the porch roof – this is all except the spider plant that hangs in my kitchen window all year round to my daily delight. Usually we have a casualty or two and this year is no different, so I’ll need to replace the Hosta plant I became attached to. So we’ll go to Lowe’s or Home Depot and I’ll pick out the plant I need to replace plus one or two new ones and some other random things I can’t live without, like flowers or birdseed.
This year I’ve been thinking of adding some vegetables to the whole operation. I have pleasant memories of several vegetable gardens Delorme and I had shared and then just yesterday he even told me he was planting one again this year. Copycatting my memories! The best time ever was when we were being taunted by this varmint who kept tunneling through the garden eating and destroying our corn plants, ALWAYS AT NIGHT, THE SNEAKY BITCH! Delorme had recently gotten a handgun and was dying for a reason to use it, when one day he caught the little ratty mole thing and ran inside to get the gun. I got all excited and was like, “Let me do it! I want to shoot him for eating our corn!” He was very surprised by my bloodthirstiness but handed over the gun and I popped a cap in that little rat bastard (literally!) with one shot to the back of the head. That remains the only animal I’ve ever killed (we don’t discuss the cat I accidentally ran over in 1988 or the fish I accidentally stopped feeding) but damn was that shit fun. So yeah, I might be planting vegetables soon. It’s a commitment but I think I’m up for it. Who knows, I might even get to shoot something!
I pity the fool who steals from my garden.
A fun game I’ve been playing lately in my head is thinking “I pity the fool,” and applying it to whenever I have an exchange with someone. As in, “Kim, will you be available for a short meeting next Wednesday?” Me (in my head): “I pity the fool who asks me to go to a meeting.” It’s fun times. In my head. I pity the fool who’s in my head.
Not that I really want to, but sometimes I think it would be fun to live in an apartment again. Not like the kinds I’ve lived in before per se, which were mostly glorified more expensive dorm rooms, but one of those long-term deals, where it seems like you’re living in a house you can decorate and do whatever to. It would also have to have some sort of outdoor space, preferably a flower and plant-laden terrace. Apartments are so great for social observances, what with the living in awkwardly close quarters with a wide variety of total strangers. I can practice my people wondering with the neighbors I have now, especially now that everyone and their brother has taken to walking their dogs the same time I do (I’ll be switching it up and going in the morning for the next few days, because all the barking and leash pulling is pretty annoying), but it’s not quite the same thing. I don’t miss the limited parking and nocturnal loudness.
Speaking of voyeurism. I really love my private office still and no longer feel guilty about working with my door shut. What I’ve found is that I like to work in complete silence, which I already knew. Low volume talk radio is acceptable sometimes, but music distracts me. Also, these walls are thin as shitwafers. I don’t try to eavesdrop, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. There’s this semi-annoying girl here who works in an office next door to mine. She must be newly out of school, because she still has the total sorority vibe going on, like ending every sentence as if she’s asking a question? Even things that are obviously not questions but declarative statements? And using “like” a lot (well, I do that too, so that’s cool) and that high-pitched squeaky voice…ugh. Today she must’ve been on a personal call (at least I hope so) because I overheard her say, “I don’t care what excuse he comes up with this time; he’ll be lucky if his stuff’s still INSIDE the house when he gets home!” Ooh, naughty fraternity boyfriend, what did you do wrong? It was awesome. I just have to remember when it comes to personal phone calls and bodily functions to try to keep it down.
Why you shouldn’t lie, reason number infinity: I had felt guilty for asking for time off a few weeks ago, even though I haven’t taken any significant days off since October (those Christmas weeks don’t count; everybody’s off) but instead of just putting in the leave request and leaving it at that, oh ho ho NOOO, I had to go and make up some vague Mother-related reason to my boss. IDIOT! Then of course I figured out I couldn’t go to Florida and I realized I couldn’t just forget about the time off I’d asked for, especially when my boss told me yesterday she hoped I had a good time in Florida! It was like some Mission Impossible shit gone wrong, only without the exploding gum. So now I’m taking Monday and Tuesday off for absolutely no reason whatsoever, except to save face. I have plenty of leave time built up so it’s not that big of a deal except I feel like an asshole for lying. I’m planning on doing some penance for it and using the next five days to do some productive house things. I’m still totally underachieving on the laundry front, so there’s no time like the present to catch up. Imagine how psyched I am about a vacation at home. Not even a little bit. Although time off of work is still pretty cool, so I’m sure I’ll be more on board with the idea by tonight or tomorrow.
Last night I came across the movie Rock Star playing on the annoying E channel (they love to throw in a long commercial break every time anything emotional is going on to totally ruin the mood). I doubt most people have seen or have the same fierce love I have for this 2001 Mark Wahlberg extravaganza, but it is one of my favorites. It was weird to see Jennifer Anniston again, back when she was still W.B. (With Brad) and no one could foresee the bleak future that was soon to be her love life. But really - anyone who still has a soft spot for 80’s hair metal would get a kick out of the movie, if for only the soundtrack. It’s kind of a lot like Boogie Nights except with rock & roll instead of porn and a much lesser caliber cast. Except Marky Mark, who I will love until the end of time. Say hello to your mutha for me, Mark. SNL joke, sorry.
I get pretty pro-plant at this time of year. How unoriginal of me. Usually what happens around now is all the plants get moved back outside (check) since if we do get another frost it would be mild enough for the plants to withstand as long as they’re under the porch roof – this is all except the spider plant that hangs in my kitchen window all year round to my daily delight. Usually we have a casualty or two and this year is no different, so I’ll need to replace the Hosta plant I became attached to. So we’ll go to Lowe’s or Home Depot and I’ll pick out the plant I need to replace plus one or two new ones and some other random things I can’t live without, like flowers or birdseed.
This year I’ve been thinking of adding some vegetables to the whole operation. I have pleasant memories of several vegetable gardens Delorme and I had shared and then just yesterday he even told me he was planting one again this year. Copycatting my memories! The best time ever was when we were being taunted by this varmint who kept tunneling through the garden eating and destroying our corn plants, ALWAYS AT NIGHT, THE SNEAKY BITCH! Delorme had recently gotten a handgun and was dying for a reason to use it, when one day he caught the little ratty mole thing and ran inside to get the gun. I got all excited and was like, “Let me do it! I want to shoot him for eating our corn!” He was very surprised by my bloodthirstiness but handed over the gun and I popped a cap in that little rat bastard (literally!) with one shot to the back of the head. That remains the only animal I’ve ever killed (we don’t discuss the cat I accidentally ran over in 1988 or the fish I accidentally stopped feeding) but damn was that shit fun. So yeah, I might be planting vegetables soon. It’s a commitment but I think I’m up for it. Who knows, I might even get to shoot something!
I pity the fool who steals from my garden.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Some of the best laid plans
Woody Allen has this great quote (well, he has a lot of great quotes and also his books are so much better than his movies and a lot of people don't know that except I do want to see Vicky Cristina Barcelona if only for the Scarlett Johansson/Penelope Cruz make-out scene) and anyway the quote is this:
"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." He also said "Why are our days numbered and not, say, lettered?" but that's not really relevant to my point.
You know how in job interviews they sometimes ask Where do you see yourself five years from now? Just once I'd like to have the balls to answer truthfully: I have a hard time seeing where I'll be five days from now. Because I should know better than to write things down on my calendar(s), in pen anyway, until after they've occured. That is the number one way to jinx myself, such is the power of my pen to paper.
We were supposed to go bowling last night. Until Brian's truck took a dump and he spent two days working on it only to find out it's going to cost another five hundred dollars or so before it's fixed and I don't know about you, but we don't have five hundred lying around the house anywhere. Well, I shouldn't assume - you may very well have five hundred lying around somewhere, but I can assure you we do not. This might take a few days. He was gone from 7:30 yesterday morning until 9:30 last night working on it and all we did when he got home was eat bacon, watch part of a fishing documentary (still impatiently waiting for Deadliest Catch to begin) and went to bed at 10:30.
I was supposed to leave for Florida on Tuesday. Then things at work started happening so that this coming week looks a little like a guided tour through hell, the aforementioned truck took all our money and it started making a lot more sense for me to go the following week instead. And although I don't want to be cynical about it, I hesitate to get too excited until I actually wake up one morning next week, look around, and realize I'm at Sister's house. I really want to be at Sister's house.
Treat yourself as if you were already pregnant, the nurse said over two weeks ago. Okay, that's easy enough, I guess. Until I peed on a stick that turned very rude and said NO when all I asked of it was for it to say YES. I'm sorry, but NO doesn't follow along with the plans I was excitedly, if tentatively, making. In my head, not on my calendar(s) of course, because even I'm not that stupid.
"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." John Lennon said that one. So, I guess that's what's going on right now. Life sounds much better than in the interim, limbo, or purgatory. It's just life. Which is still better than the alternative.
"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." He also said "Why are our days numbered and not, say, lettered?" but that's not really relevant to my point.
You know how in job interviews they sometimes ask Where do you see yourself five years from now? Just once I'd like to have the balls to answer truthfully: I have a hard time seeing where I'll be five days from now. Because I should know better than to write things down on my calendar(s), in pen anyway, until after they've occured. That is the number one way to jinx myself, such is the power of my pen to paper.
We were supposed to go bowling last night. Until Brian's truck took a dump and he spent two days working on it only to find out it's going to cost another five hundred dollars or so before it's fixed and I don't know about you, but we don't have five hundred lying around the house anywhere. Well, I shouldn't assume - you may very well have five hundred lying around somewhere, but I can assure you we do not. This might take a few days. He was gone from 7:30 yesterday morning until 9:30 last night working on it and all we did when he got home was eat bacon, watch part of a fishing documentary (still impatiently waiting for Deadliest Catch to begin) and went to bed at 10:30.
I was supposed to leave for Florida on Tuesday. Then things at work started happening so that this coming week looks a little like a guided tour through hell, the aforementioned truck took all our money and it started making a lot more sense for me to go the following week instead. And although I don't want to be cynical about it, I hesitate to get too excited until I actually wake up one morning next week, look around, and realize I'm at Sister's house. I really want to be at Sister's house.
Treat yourself as if you were already pregnant, the nurse said over two weeks ago. Okay, that's easy enough, I guess. Until I peed on a stick that turned very rude and said NO when all I asked of it was for it to say YES. I'm sorry, but NO doesn't follow along with the plans I was excitedly, if tentatively, making. In my head, not on my calendar(s) of course, because even I'm not that stupid.
"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." John Lennon said that one. So, I guess that's what's going on right now. Life sounds much better than in the interim, limbo, or purgatory. It's just life. Which is still better than the alternative.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Distractions
Have you ever socialized with a couple who couldn't help but to have raging, screaming arguments in front of you? Whether in a double date situation or in a larger group, it's just no good for anyone involved. Sister and I were just talking about married friends of theirs who do it fairly frequently in front of her and her husband and then last night the Rednecks had it out in front of us. Awk-ward. I'd like to know if there's a proper ettiquette in handling it. Ignore it? Try to steer the conversation toward a more neutral topic like politics or religion?
Redneck Wife and I were leaving to go to the grocery store to pick up frozen pizza for dinner. Because we like to bring the klass on a Friday night. We've done this plenty of times in the past without incident. Except most of the time she brings her kids with us, which...I sort of hate and also doesn't make much sense when you figure Brian and Redneck Husband are there at the house, perfectly able to keep the kids from burning anything down, killing small animals or other things of that nature. I know it's possible, because I've seen it. But last night the kids had another friend over and the Wife figured (correctly) we could get the errand over with a lot quicker without bringing them along.
We went outside to where the men were working on Brian's truck and told them. You would've thought she had just announced the end of life as we know it by the way he reacted. There was cursing. There was throwing of large heavy tools. There was a very loud, heated and insulting exchange between them. Brian and I made eye contact for the briefest second and I quickly got into her truck. She got in, shut the door and said I hate him sometimes and I had no idea how to respond. I pretty much just agreed with her and quickly and awkwardly changed the subject.
I thought of how I could've maybe handled it better. I couldn't really commiserate with her and talk shit about Brian because he's never come close to acting like that. And she's known Brian since they were little kids so she already knows that. We're not close enough friends for me to give her any advice, not that I usually would anyway. If I could say what I am thinking whenever this happens: You're too good for him. You're too smart for him. You have a college degree and he's a functioning illiterate. I know he was the first real boyfriend you ever had (Translation: the first real good sex you ever had), I know you accidentally got pregnant when you were on the verge of breaking up and then figured you were screwed literally as well as figuratively so you did the "right" thing, but it's never too late and you know your parents would be thrilled if you divorced him and would probably buy you a new house. I don't think he's ever going to change and I don't think you're ever going to be happy unless you leave him.
Maybe some people could say it. I can't. Maybe I should though? She told me last night she only has four close friends and that I'm one of them. So if that's how she feels about me, do I OWE it to her to say it? All of the above is true, but I just don't feel it's my place to butt in when she's never asked me what I thought about it; she mostly just complains a little and then we move onto a different topic. Eh, who knows. All I know is whenever we're around them and something like that happens, I have the insane urge to go home and blow Brian to show my appreciation for him not being a douche. Maybe someday I'll actually act on it.
One of the responses I got back yesterday via text when I sent out my Bad News Bulletin was from my excellent friend Kristen. It said, "So, we just keep continuing to have baby prayers, that's all. What do you think about going bowling this weekend?" That ranks up there in the top five messages I've ever gotten in my life. And yes, I think we are going bowling tonight. Because when life hands you lemons you should always turn them into balls.
Redneck Wife and I were leaving to go to the grocery store to pick up frozen pizza for dinner. Because we like to bring the klass on a Friday night. We've done this plenty of times in the past without incident. Except most of the time she brings her kids with us, which...I sort of hate and also doesn't make much sense when you figure Brian and Redneck Husband are there at the house, perfectly able to keep the kids from burning anything down, killing small animals or other things of that nature. I know it's possible, because I've seen it. But last night the kids had another friend over and the Wife figured (correctly) we could get the errand over with a lot quicker without bringing them along.
We went outside to where the men were working on Brian's truck and told them. You would've thought she had just announced the end of life as we know it by the way he reacted. There was cursing. There was throwing of large heavy tools. There was a very loud, heated and insulting exchange between them. Brian and I made eye contact for the briefest second and I quickly got into her truck. She got in, shut the door and said I hate him sometimes and I had no idea how to respond. I pretty much just agreed with her and quickly and awkwardly changed the subject.
I thought of how I could've maybe handled it better. I couldn't really commiserate with her and talk shit about Brian because he's never come close to acting like that. And she's known Brian since they were little kids so she already knows that. We're not close enough friends for me to give her any advice, not that I usually would anyway. If I could say what I am thinking whenever this happens: You're too good for him. You're too smart for him. You have a college degree and he's a functioning illiterate. I know he was the first real boyfriend you ever had (Translation: the first real good sex you ever had), I know you accidentally got pregnant when you were on the verge of breaking up and then figured you were screwed literally as well as figuratively so you did the "right" thing, but it's never too late and you know your parents would be thrilled if you divorced him and would probably buy you a new house. I don't think he's ever going to change and I don't think you're ever going to be happy unless you leave him.
Maybe some people could say it. I can't. Maybe I should though? She told me last night she only has four close friends and that I'm one of them. So if that's how she feels about me, do I OWE it to her to say it? All of the above is true, but I just don't feel it's my place to butt in when she's never asked me what I thought about it; she mostly just complains a little and then we move onto a different topic. Eh, who knows. All I know is whenever we're around them and something like that happens, I have the insane urge to go home and blow Brian to show my appreciation for him not being a douche. Maybe someday I'll actually act on it.
One of the responses I got back yesterday via text when I sent out my Bad News Bulletin was from my excellent friend Kristen. It said, "So, we just keep continuing to have baby prayers, that's all. What do you think about going bowling this weekend?" That ranks up there in the top five messages I've ever gotten in my life. And yes, I think we are going bowling tonight. Because when life hands you lemons you should always turn them into balls.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Take this job and shove it
Catching up on some blog reading this morning and I ran across the always amusing Whiskey, who wrote about some bad jobs she's had in the past. This is a topic that never gets old for me, as whenever I'm having a less-than-fun day at work, all I have to do is reach back to the dusty files of my mind and pull a wretched job memory from my past. There are plenty to choose from and it never fails to put things into perspective.
This subject also came up the other night while talking with two friends who had both just quit working at a horrible place, the only benefit being they'd met each other during their short tenures there. They told some horrifying things about it; the building that had no windows, the broken promises especially when it came to their pay, the no-breaks rule, the no-talking to co-workers rule, the having to sneak next door to grab a soda since the bastard owner didn't even supply a vending machine rule. Answering phones all day to people who threatened lawsuits. I could literally feel their relief at having this place be in their past; I've been there quite a few times. Those jobs you leave on Friday afternoons like Fred Flintsone leaving the quarry, all Yabba Dabba Doo, blasting loud music in your car, relishing the two days of freedom ahead, only to have Sunday night arrive all too quickly, when you then experience the dread in the pit of your stomach wondering how you will be able to bear another week of the place. There's nothing worse.
If I ever wrote a completely HONEST resume' (and who really ever does that?), it would have to include the following:
- Call Center for Dell computer tech support - I lasted the three-week training period, period. After hearing about how bad it sucked there from the full-time employees and seeing for myself the lack of will to live I felt every time I entered the building, I knew the sooner I got out the better it would be for everyone, mostly me.
This subject also came up the other night while talking with two friends who had both just quit working at a horrible place, the only benefit being they'd met each other during their short tenures there. They told some horrifying things about it; the building that had no windows, the broken promises especially when it came to their pay, the no-breaks rule, the no-talking to co-workers rule, the having to sneak next door to grab a soda since the bastard owner didn't even supply a vending machine rule. Answering phones all day to people who threatened lawsuits. I could literally feel their relief at having this place be in their past; I've been there quite a few times. Those jobs you leave on Friday afternoons like Fred Flintsone leaving the quarry, all Yabba Dabba Doo, blasting loud music in your car, relishing the two days of freedom ahead, only to have Sunday night arrive all too quickly, when you then experience the dread in the pit of your stomach wondering how you will be able to bear another week of the place. There's nothing worse.
If I ever wrote a completely HONEST resume' (and who really ever does that?), it would have to include the following:
- Call Center for Dell computer tech support - I lasted the three-week training period, period. After hearing about how bad it sucked there from the full-time employees and seeing for myself the lack of will to live I felt every time I entered the building, I knew the sooner I got out the better it would be for everyone, mostly me.
- Data Entry/Customer Complaint person for well-known satellite TV company - This was one of those places that had no windows and a very factory-like atmosphere that also included no breaks. Excuse me, but having a basic knowledge of human resources, I am aware that employers are required to give two fifteen minute breaks for every eight hours an employee works. I don't know how these places get away with not providing that, except maybe no one has ever complained? I don't know. I lasted there for about a month, until I bugged the temp agency enough and they found me something else. Don't put a smoker on a job assignment that doesn't provide breaks, assholes. Actually, don't put a NON-smoker in a Nazi place like that at all.
- "Paralegal" for small desperate lawfirm - The lawyer who owned this firm had just recently parted ways with the larger lawfirm in town and was Very Bitter and also ready to Prove Herself. Some of the office staff's duties beyond the scope of legal assisting included: making her nail/hair/facial appointments, making her dinner reservations, picking up/dropping off her dry cleaning, vacuuming and dusting the office including the upstairs which was also personal quarters for she and her husband...and this woman was a cold-hearted bitch on top of it all. She was on her third marriage at the time, something I'm still sad I didn't bring up when she gave me my 90-day review and told me she had accomplished so much more than I did by the time she was my age (27 at the time). I walked out of that review and quit via phone call the next day. Later I found out within several months of my leaving, her law partner had also left and she only had one person from her original staff who loyally stuck by her side. And that person was related to her.
- Jewelry Counter Person at Walmart: I also lasted only the duration of the training period, plus one shift. I hear it's not a bad company to work for; I wouldn't really know.
- Accounting Drone in small town courthouse: I really thought I'd enjoy this job. We were back in my hometown for the summer so Brian could work as an intern on a golf course before starting school. I knew I wouldn't be there permanently and did feel guilty about that...at first. After three months of bitchy catty office women, non-stop gossip and monotonous boring pencil and paper pushing, I could barely contain my glee upon turning in my resignation letter. They were not pleased with me leaving after three months, but hey - shit happens. To you, fuckers! Hahaha!
- Bookeeper for small construction company: This was a job I took after we first moved back up here, while waiting an agonizing month to get an interview at USC. I didn't mind the twenty mile commute. I didn't mind the 7:30 to 5:00 work day with half-hour lunch. I didn't mind it was out in the middle of nowhere so the half-hour lunch was spent reading in my car. I might have minded the fact there were no paid sick or vacation days until after you'd worked there for a year and they only gave five paid holidays per year as well. I might have minded that, had I stayed long enough. What I did mind was the owner of the company and his male-chauvenistic, tightwad, Type A Heart Attack at Any Moment Screaming Fits at his entire office staff almost daily.
I loved how I ditched this job so much; in fact it ranks among my favorite cut and run stories of my whole life. On a beautiful sunny early October afternoon after working at this place almost a month, I got the call I was waiting for; the college had decided to hire me. My now-boss apologized for the lengthy hiring process and asked if I could start the following Monday. I told her I couldn't wait. I then started thinking about how I could make my great escape with the least amount of awkwardness (for myself). That night, I didn't sleep. Instead, I stayed up scheming and wrote them a three page letter about how I was sorry for having to leave on such short notice, but that maybe they should show their appreciation to the poor girl who I was leaving behind; the one they were paying nine bucks an hour and no benefits who worked her ass off for them. I saved a copy of the letter in my journal.
The next morning, a Friday, was payday. I drove out there with a spring in my step and a song in my heart, though I was pretty nervous. Because of stressing about it all night, it had taken on Mission Impossible-type logistics in my head. I parked at the edge of their small dirt parking lot, as close to the road as possible. I walked into the office and straight to my desk, where I knew my paycheck would be. The office was one big room; everybody could see you at all times. I didn't see the check there at first and started to freak, until I noticed it sitting on my keyboard, no envelope or anything, just a plain check sitting right there in front of the construction guys and everyone to see. Professional. But whatever; I grabbed that bitch and replaced it with my letter. I told girls I needed to get something out of my car and they barely noticed, with the early morning commotion going on (which was a key component of my evil plan). I calmly walked out of the building, my steps quickening the closer and closer I got to my car. I got in and without looking to see if anyone saw me, got the fuck out of there. I drove straight to the bank they had their account with and cashed the check immediately. I didn't know if they would try to hold the money or what, but I wasn't taking any chances. After that I went shopping and bought myself a new outfit to wear on my first day back to work at the college; the job I'd been waiting to go back to for so long. It was such a happy day. And to this day, whenever we pass that stupid place on the way out to my inlaws' house, I give it the ol' one-finger salute every time. With a big-ass smile on my face - suckers!
Lest you think I'm a bad person or without a conscience, let me just say this. Most of my jobs have been great experiences and I'm a very caring and loyal employee. I am still in touch with a lot of my past co-workers to this day and they're now more like family than anything else. I've cried and been cried over several jobs upon leaving them. When you work for good people, you want to do the best job you can possibly do for them; at least I do. But if you're an asshole of a boss? I have no kind thoughts or words for you. If you can't at least FAKE treating your employees with respect, go fuck yourself.
Anyway, those are some of my horror stories. If you ever feel the need to share some of yours, I'd love to hear them.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
*Burp*
Oh, excuse me.
My stomach feels weird; kind of like I've been invaded by 112 million sperm.
WHAT THE HELL!
I mean, Brian's pretty pleased with himself since the doctor told us TEN million is a good "normal" count, but I'm a little freaked out by that number. That's a lot of swimmers! My favorite text of the day was from my friend Kristen who just wrote, "Swim little bitches, swim!" (Insert Finding Nemo song here; I just can't remember it right now). Luckily I only have the two little Lolly and Ollie Follies, so I don't have to worry about becoming a freak of nature (moreso than I already am) and giving birth to a continent. Brian's take on the whole thing was, "Damn, all I have to do is jerk off a few more times and I could populate New York City." Disturbing.
Other than that, everything is cool. His mom came with us and when he got called in for his date with his hand (this has to happen first, obviously) his mom said to me, "I didn't know what to say to him; should I have wished him good luck?" That was cute. But I told her it was probably for the best she didn't say anything to him. And lucky for him, this time materials were provided to help things along. In the Columbia office, they were not and I thought that was a rip-off for how much money we're paying. You can't invest some of that into a small but effective magazine collection? This place even had a widescreen TV and dvd's available! But Brian said all he could picture was turning the TV on, putting the dvd in and the volume being up really loud, allowing the whole office, including his mother, to hear. He just kept it simple and stuck (haha, ewww!) to the magazines.
My part of the procedure took less than five minutes - insert sperm, tilt pelvis up for fifteen minutes, get dressed and go. As the doctor was finishing up, he said, "Congratulations; you're pregnant," which I know was just some positive vibe thing and I appreciated it, but yes it will be a full two weeks (from tomorrow) before I'll know for sure. I'm not going to cheat either. Getting a false result on something like this would not be fun. Remind me I said this in about a week.
An unpleasant surprise was when Nurse Monique (who Brian thought was hot and I think looks exactly like our friend Shari - yes, hot) went over the instructions with us and told me ix-nay the caffene. For a few weeks, anyway. God-dang-it, because I haven't given up everything else already!?! But yes - I'm going to the store and I'm going to experiement with decaf and flavored creamers on the advice of coffee guru Johnann. I think her theory of disguising the taste (or lack thereof) with the creamer and sugar (I'm NOT giving up the sugar) (Unless they tell me to), I'll be okay with it. Preparing now for major headache tomorrow morning when my body realizes it missed it's morning dose of go-go juice.
In the meantime, Hot Nurse told me to take it easy the rest of today and that intercourse tonight could only help things along. Noted and will take under advisement.
But how many more millions do we actually need, really?
Thank you guys again for giving a fart. You make me feel all mushy and stuff. Then again that could be the leftover lube. But still. I love you all.
My stomach feels weird; kind of like I've been invaded by 112 million sperm.
WHAT THE HELL!
I mean, Brian's pretty pleased with himself since the doctor told us TEN million is a good "normal" count, but I'm a little freaked out by that number. That's a lot of swimmers! My favorite text of the day was from my friend Kristen who just wrote, "Swim little bitches, swim!" (Insert Finding Nemo song here; I just can't remember it right now). Luckily I only have the two little Lolly and Ollie Follies, so I don't have to worry about becoming a freak of nature (moreso than I already am) and giving birth to a continent. Brian's take on the whole thing was, "Damn, all I have to do is jerk off a few more times and I could populate New York City." Disturbing.
Other than that, everything is cool. His mom came with us and when he got called in for his date with his hand (this has to happen first, obviously) his mom said to me, "I didn't know what to say to him; should I have wished him good luck?" That was cute. But I told her it was probably for the best she didn't say anything to him. And lucky for him, this time materials were provided to help things along. In the Columbia office, they were not and I thought that was a rip-off for how much money we're paying. You can't invest some of that into a small but effective magazine collection? This place even had a widescreen TV and dvd's available! But Brian said all he could picture was turning the TV on, putting the dvd in and the volume being up really loud, allowing the whole office, including his mother, to hear. He just kept it simple and stuck (haha, ewww!) to the magazines.
My part of the procedure took less than five minutes - insert sperm, tilt pelvis up for fifteen minutes, get dressed and go. As the doctor was finishing up, he said, "Congratulations; you're pregnant," which I know was just some positive vibe thing and I appreciated it, but yes it will be a full two weeks (from tomorrow) before I'll know for sure. I'm not going to cheat either. Getting a false result on something like this would not be fun. Remind me I said this in about a week.
An unpleasant surprise was when Nurse Monique (who Brian thought was hot and I think looks exactly like our friend Shari - yes, hot) went over the instructions with us and told me ix-nay the caffene. For a few weeks, anyway. God-dang-it, because I haven't given up everything else already!?! But yes - I'm going to the store and I'm going to experiement with decaf and flavored creamers on the advice of coffee guru Johnann. I think her theory of disguising the taste (or lack thereof) with the creamer and sugar (I'm NOT giving up the sugar) (Unless they tell me to), I'll be okay with it. Preparing now for major headache tomorrow morning when my body realizes it missed it's morning dose of go-go juice.
In the meantime, Hot Nurse told me to take it easy the rest of today and that intercourse tonight could only help things along. Noted and will take under advisement.
But how many more millions do we actually need, really?
Thank you guys again for giving a fart. You make me feel all mushy and stuff. Then again that could be the leftover lube. But still. I love you all.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Stream-of-psycho-ness
My first thought upon waking this morning: "What in the fuckity FUCK am I about to do???"
I'd like to say things have improved from there, but I don't like to lie. To give you a little glimpse into the psychosis, I'm pretty much veering back and forth between, "What if it doesn't work? to What if it DOES??" The best way I can describe it is I feel like I always do when I'm about to get on a plane - only without Xanax this time. And after checking the weather report and seeing there will be storms and turbulence the entire flight.
I wish I knew how to meditate - don't you just sit there Indian-style and go, "Om?" with your eyes shut? Because I just tried that and it didn't work and my foot fell asleep.
The times when you need drugs the most? Are always the times you can't have any. The irony does not escape me.
I put my lunch together this morning; soup, crackers, yogurt. As far as I can figure it's still sitting on the kitchen counter and I'm now eating a slice of pizza. Which, had I thought about it, I should've gotten sushi for lunch, because duh. That's one of the no-no's just in case I do happen to catch pregnant tomorrow. Not that I really want sushi, but I know once I can't have it, I'll want the hell out of it. I know me. I know me very well. By the way, does anyone know if you're allowed to eat tuna fish? I can never remember that and I'm avoiding looking anything up online that is pregnancy-related. Don't want to jinx anything.
Psst, anybody got a sedative? Ha, kidding! I wouldn't take one if you flipped it into my mouth with a Quaalude chaser and a nice cold crispy caffeinated Coke to wash it all down with! And if you believe that one, I have a stimulus package I'd like to sell you.
I figured writing would help. I figured wrong.
Uh...what else? Oh yeah. The Beatles thing was cool last night. It would've been a lot cooler had they played Come Together, Helter Skelter, Help, and Lucy in the Sky. I told HeatherI knew better than to hope for Dear Prudence, Blackbird and Norwegian Wood; I'm not stupid. But those others I thought would be pretty standard ops for a Beatles-esque experience. But they didn't consult me. A bonus was the first part of the show they were backed by the South Carolina Philharmonic Orchestra - way cool. A bonus-opposite was our seats were at the very front of the balcony section and while making our way to them I got the worst case of vertigo/acrophobia (fear of heights - I just looked it up) and then claustrophobia I think I've ever had. It only lasted a few minutes, but damn; have you ever had to keep your shit together for a short period of time in public but you knew any minute there was potential to Make a Scene? I was so on the verge. I'm really happy I didn't. I remembered Laura'sthoughtful pot post yesterday and at that moment was EXTREMELY thankful I wasn't high like I totally would've been back in the day. That would've been bad news bears.
It's been a long time since I've partaken in the weed, but I bet starting tomorrow I'll want some. Weed, sushi, coffee, tunafish...And by the way - who in their right mind tries to get pregnant this close to St. Patrick's Day, dumbass!? I drink like twice a year and this holiday is one of the days. Idiot. Well, we only have plans so far to go to a pre-St.-Pat's party this weekend, so I'll just buy some Sprite and green food coloring and be done with it. And oh yeah, ha-ha, if Brian thinks he's getting drunk on St. Patrick's Day, he can kiss my blarney stone. It's all about the spousal support, right?
Did you know Daylight Savings Time starts back this coming weekend? Who's the d-bag who decided to make it so early this year? After having it start so late in the Fall. I know there's like one or two states that don't observe it - someday I will move there. It's horseshit.
My mom asked me if I wanted her to drive up here for the procedure tomorrow. Ha! But I guess to you, the untrained ear, that sounds like a very nice offer, right? Well, just so's you don't think I'm a heartless bitch, let me tell you the rest of the story (damn, Paul Harvey died the other day, sad) before you judge me. I thanked her but told her it's not necessary right now (leaving out of course the fact Brian's mom is coming with us) but that hopefully it'll work and she can come up to go to an appointment with me later down the road when there will be more exciting things happening than a five-minute proceedure and we won't even know anything for two weeks. She then started to drunk-cry (it was an hour past vodka:thirty - I should've known better than to call that late) (late being 7:30) and tell me she feels guilty. Because all this? The reason I haven't had a baby yet? Is her fault. Yes. Do you not know how a martyr's mind works? Everything bad is because of them/happens to them/whatever to them, but it's ALWAYS about them. Nevermind that she actually DID have two kids without the benefit of fertility technology back then. No. That doesn't matter. She had "problem" pregnancies (I wanted to suggest that perhaps cigarettes and booze probably weren't the best choices, but of course I didn't) and because of her problems, my life has been incomplete.
'Ludes? Anybody? No? Okay.
All right. Well, I guess I should probably try and do something productive, even if that just means I manage to appear normal for the remainder of the time I have to be at work.
If you get a chance tomorrow morning around 11:30, say a little prayer for me. I heard that on the radio a little while ago and can't stop singing it so wanted to pass it along to you. But seriously. Thanks for sticking around through all this weirdness; it really means a lot.
See you on the flipside.
I'd like to say things have improved from there, but I don't like to lie. To give you a little glimpse into the psychosis, I'm pretty much veering back and forth between, "What if it doesn't work? to What if it DOES??" The best way I can describe it is I feel like I always do when I'm about to get on a plane - only without Xanax this time. And after checking the weather report and seeing there will be storms and turbulence the entire flight.
I wish I knew how to meditate - don't you just sit there Indian-style and go, "Om?" with your eyes shut? Because I just tried that and it didn't work and my foot fell asleep.
The times when you need drugs the most? Are always the times you can't have any. The irony does not escape me.
I put my lunch together this morning; soup, crackers, yogurt. As far as I can figure it's still sitting on the kitchen counter and I'm now eating a slice of pizza. Which, had I thought about it, I should've gotten sushi for lunch, because duh. That's one of the no-no's just in case I do happen to catch pregnant tomorrow. Not that I really want sushi, but I know once I can't have it, I'll want the hell out of it. I know me. I know me very well. By the way, does anyone know if you're allowed to eat tuna fish? I can never remember that and I'm avoiding looking anything up online that is pregnancy-related. Don't want to jinx anything.
Psst, anybody got a sedative? Ha, kidding! I wouldn't take one if you flipped it into my mouth with a Quaalude chaser and a nice cold crispy caffeinated Coke to wash it all down with! And if you believe that one, I have a stimulus package I'd like to sell you.
I figured writing would help. I figured wrong.
Uh...what else? Oh yeah. The Beatles thing was cool last night. It would've been a lot cooler had they played Come Together, Helter Skelter, Help, and Lucy in the Sky. I told HeatherI knew better than to hope for Dear Prudence, Blackbird and Norwegian Wood; I'm not stupid. But those others I thought would be pretty standard ops for a Beatles-esque experience. But they didn't consult me. A bonus was the first part of the show they were backed by the South Carolina Philharmonic Orchestra - way cool. A bonus-opposite was our seats were at the very front of the balcony section and while making our way to them I got the worst case of vertigo/acrophobia (fear of heights - I just looked it up) and then claustrophobia I think I've ever had. It only lasted a few minutes, but damn; have you ever had to keep your shit together for a short period of time in public but you knew any minute there was potential to Make a Scene? I was so on the verge. I'm really happy I didn't. I remembered Laura'sthoughtful pot post yesterday and at that moment was EXTREMELY thankful I wasn't high like I totally would've been back in the day. That would've been bad news bears.
It's been a long time since I've partaken in the weed, but I bet starting tomorrow I'll want some. Weed, sushi, coffee, tunafish...And by the way - who in their right mind tries to get pregnant this close to St. Patrick's Day, dumbass!? I drink like twice a year and this holiday is one of the days. Idiot. Well, we only have plans so far to go to a pre-St.-Pat's party this weekend, so I'll just buy some Sprite and green food coloring and be done with it. And oh yeah, ha-ha, if Brian thinks he's getting drunk on St. Patrick's Day, he can kiss my blarney stone. It's all about the spousal support, right?
Did you know Daylight Savings Time starts back this coming weekend? Who's the d-bag who decided to make it so early this year? After having it start so late in the Fall. I know there's like one or two states that don't observe it - someday I will move there. It's horseshit.
My mom asked me if I wanted her to drive up here for the procedure tomorrow. Ha! But I guess to you, the untrained ear, that sounds like a very nice offer, right? Well, just so's you don't think I'm a heartless bitch, let me tell you the rest of the story (damn, Paul Harvey died the other day, sad) before you judge me. I thanked her but told her it's not necessary right now (leaving out of course the fact Brian's mom is coming with us) but that hopefully it'll work and she can come up to go to an appointment with me later down the road when there will be more exciting things happening than a five-minute proceedure and we won't even know anything for two weeks. She then started to drunk-cry (it was an hour past vodka:thirty - I should've known better than to call that late) (late being 7:30) and tell me she feels guilty. Because all this? The reason I haven't had a baby yet? Is her fault. Yes. Do you not know how a martyr's mind works? Everything bad is because of them/happens to them/whatever to them, but it's ALWAYS about them. Nevermind that she actually DID have two kids without the benefit of fertility technology back then. No. That doesn't matter. She had "problem" pregnancies (I wanted to suggest that perhaps cigarettes and booze probably weren't the best choices, but of course I didn't) and because of her problems, my life has been incomplete.
'Ludes? Anybody? No? Okay.
All right. Well, I guess I should probably try and do something productive, even if that just means I manage to appear normal for the remainder of the time I have to be at work.
If you get a chance tomorrow morning around 11:30, say a little prayer for me. I heard that on the radio a little while ago and can't stop singing it so wanted to pass it along to you. But seriously. Thanks for sticking around through all this weirdness; it really means a lot.
See you on the flipside.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Come Together
I think the biggest thing I've learned on this journey to fertilization is how important timing really is in the great scheme of things. Certain things have to happen at certain, sometimes very precise times in order to get the outcome you want; in this case a baby. I've also learned my time is not nearly as important as the almighty doctor office time, friggin' bastardmotherfuckers. I had a little repeat of Sunday morning today by showing up at 8:00 on the dot for an ultrasound and bloodwork only to have to wait six hours to hear the results. Because why SHOULD they call me back before heading off to lunch, right? (Insert string of more colorful expletives here.)
But! The ultrasound showed what we wanted to see: the follies (Lolly and Ollie) have grown to the right size - rock ON, egg holders!! There were also other things they pointed out re: my uterus that I will spare you the details from; I'll just say everything looked the way it was supposed to look. They also took blood to determine if I was ovulating or not and that was the biggie that would determine if the Big Day would be Thursday or Friday. In the meantime I came back into work and found out the rest of my work week is going to be fairly frenzied. Of course. I spent the majority of the morning wondering what I'll need to do when, all while waiting for another FUCKING phone call.
But this time I only had to stalk Monique the nurse twice this time before she called me back with our instructions. According to the blood test, I'm not ovulating on my own (big surprise; this is what I think has caused our problems all along anyway - TIMING!), but no biggie; that is why we have the hSG medicine chilling in the fridge for. Tonight at 12:30 a.m., Brian will shoot me up one last time. This will then cause the peak time for the IUI to happen 11:30 Thursday morning. I hung up with Nusre Monique satisfied I finally have a date and time to look forward to. I was sitting there, absorbing the moment when my phone rang again.
It was Monique, calling me back to urgently tell me we need to have sex tonight. Normally, this would not cause me concern.
You know how I keep annoyingly bringing up timing? At the risk of sounding like my mother and repeating myself like a retard, here again is yet another example. She explained that on Thursday they'd like the sperm to be "fresh," and even though they want two days of build-up, more than that would be considered, well...old. And I thoroughly agree; I don't want some stale-ass sperm up in my nice new eggs, oh hells no. I don't keep milk or library books past the expiration date; I certainly don't want past-due seed.
There is a small problem however, in that tonight we actually have plans. Social plans that involve other people. In fact, the schedule, or timing, if you will, is so tight, I have to sneak out of work a half hour early, run home (well, driving would be faster, har har), get presentable and turn right around so we can meet our friends back downtown at 6:00 for dinner. After that we're seeing a Beatles tribute band in concert, something I couldn't give more of a shit less about now, but that Delorme had talked me into buying tickets for a month ago. We rarely if ever go out during the week, but of course, of course we are tonight.
I quickly came up with an efficient solution. I called Brian and directed him to snap one out as soon as he gets home from work; the earlier, the better. I think it caught him a little by surprise, but after a week or so of being allowed no release shall we say, he didn't put up much of an argument. Or actually any argument at all. Which makes me think. The more I go through all this stuff, the more I'm certain God has to be male. In order for me to have a baby, I've been poked, prodded, injected, given numerous vials of my blood, peed in numerous cups, taken all kinds of weird drugs, gotten so used to stripping from the waist down I don't even care who's in the fucking room anymore and all this is BEFORE going through the wonderous joys of pregnancy and childbirth. Him? He's had to jerk off a couple of times. Which, not to be rude, but that is not really much of a departure from his regularly scheduled program, if you know what I mean and I think you do. I'm not really complaining, but hell's bells it must be good to be a man!
To recap:
This afternoon/Tonight - Brian whacks off, we go hear Beatles music, we get home by 12:30 to inject me with ovulation drugs.
Tomorrow - I decide whether I will tell them at work I need Thursday off or not and if so, come up with some vague, yet plausible reason why I need to miss a very busy day.
Thursday morning - We leave home between 8:00 and 8:30 in order to get to the Charleston office by 10:30 at which time he spanks it yet again. An hour later Lolly and Ollie Follie finally meet Mr. Spunky and God help us all, our baby is made.
The next two weeks - I drive everyone insane until I'm able to take a pregnancy test.
Giddy-up!
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