Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The Worst Mom Ever!
Let's face it... I am the worst mom ever. I was gone for 9 days. Then I came home to my babies for only 8 days and now I am preparing to leave again... FOR 18 DAYS!!! My poor babies. I feel awful, the guilt is eating away at me. And what's worth, they are treating me like a queen... showering me with love and affection. If they were upset I left them for days on end, they certainly aren't acting like it. But what about when I do it to them again. I have never left them alone for this long. I can't bear the thought of them hating me when I return!! They are my boys, my babies. They soothe me when I have had a bad day. They are always there for me. All they want to do, is be there for me. Their love is unconditional. They... are my dogs. If you have them, you understand. They are your babies. And right now, I feel like the worst dog mom ever!!!
Friday, December 26, 2008
Marriage Secrets
What makes a marriage last? And not just last... but happy? These are questions I have been pondering and not just because I am home visiting my parents who have been married for more than 30 years... and certainly don't always have a happy marriage. They bicker and pick on each other and sometimes, I think, intentionally piss each other off. Or my newly married friends, who seemed to have the perfect relationship and are having problems now, not problems that would break up their marriage, but things are no longer perfect. Then there is my two girlfriends who each got married and divorced in a year. I'm just wondering, does marriage ruin the relationship?? Can things be all fine and dandy until you throw that marriage thing in there? I know relationships are not all fun and games. I understand there are fights, tears and words you wish you could take back. But, I guess my question is, do the trying times get enhanced once you slip the wedding band on?? Is is because we stop trying so hard? Now we have the guy/girl and so we don't have to impress as much (bring flowers, remember to compliment, listen). Or perhaps those fights were happening all along behind the scenes. Perhaps when people get married, they just get vocal about their problems. You always hear men or women bitching about their spouses, like it's funny. It's a joke. Bottom line is... I don't want to be one of those couples... married or not... laughing about how much I dislike my partner. I don't expect things to be roses and sunshine always, but I do want to love the man that I am with for the rest of my life. I want to be happy with him for the rest of my life. I want to feel lucky to have him for the rest of my life. I want to remember how I feel about him now... forever. Can that be done?? What is the secret to a happy marriage???
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
To Sue or Not To Sue: That is the question
I woke up this morning dreaming about how I could win over a jury... let me take about 17 steps back...
I've been stewing over the idea of suing the orthopedic specialist who missed my blood clot diagnosis and landed me in the hospital.
Let me go back to the beginning... for those of you who know this story... think of this as a choose your own adventure book and start reading again at the stars... for those of you new... continue here.
I fell down the stairs in April, hurt my foot, went to Urgent Care, they X-rayed it, no break, wrapped it up told me to see my doctor if I was still in pain in 5 days.
Sure enough I was, so I went to my doctor who sent me to have an MRI after those results were muddy at best, my doctor sent me to an orthopedic specialist (we are now about 2 weeks post-injury) The orthopedic specialist put me in one of those walking boots, to be worn at all times except for when I was sleeping or showering and sent me to have a CT Scan of my foot (add a week) and then come back to see him. By the beginning of week 4, (my next appointment was Friday, exactly one month after the original injury) I knew something was really wrong. My leg was swollen up to my knee, so swollen and red it was bigger than my thigh and the skin hurt it was pulled so tight. It was so painful there were nights when I would cry and crawl upstairs to bed and cry and scream as I walked down the stairs to work. The orthopedic specialist gave me no pain medication- told me I didn't need it, but I was in so much pain I couldn't bear it and the stuff my other doctor had give me was gone so I called his office four times in 3 days. Once I left a message on a machine that said that it was checked every 10 minutes and someone would get back to me, no one ever did. Once I talked to someone and they said he was in surgery but they would leave him a note. The next day I talked to someone who said there was a note for him but she would leave another one. No one ever called me back. And no one ever asked me what was going on, why I was having so much pain. Apparently, by this point, the symptoms of a blood clot were so apparent that a med student could easily have diagnosed it without even looking at it. Finally I gave up, deciding I would just attend my appointment on Friday and then they would all feel really stupid because they would realize that something was really wrong. They did... but that something turned out to be a blood clot that started in my ankle and went all they way up to mid-thigh. It had been growing for more than three and a half weeks. I had certainly had it the first time I saw this orthopedic specialist. I had also had it long enough to have two pieces break off and travel through my heart and lodge in my right lung. Luckily they were small enough they didn't lodge in my heart because then, I would have died. I was a walking time bomb for three and a half weeks.
***So I have went through a series of emotions about whether or not to sue this doctor. No matter what I still would have gotten the blood clot. It started forming three to five days after the injury. But as my sister, who is now a PA tells me, a blood clot should always be on the top of an orthopedic specialists mind. I was a smoker and on birth control (factors I disclosed to him), two big risk factors added to the fact that he was isolating my leg almost 24 hours a day. All of that and apparently it never occured to him that I could have a blood clot. For me the bottom line is, if he had paid attention, the blood clot would have been caught way earlier and wouldn't have spread to my lungs. And more importantly, I called that office and was ignored. And during that time that I was ignored, I could have died. I understand that everyone makes mistakes and because of how the medical profession works he's never going to write me an apology letter, so I guess I think the closest thing I'm going to get to an apology, is a little bit of money. I don't want to take this guy's license, or put him out of business. But I hope he has learned a lesson. I hope he has learned to listen to his patients. I hope his whole office staff has learned that if a patient makes that many phone calls, someone needs to talk to her. So last night, my sister said that she thinks he realizes that he screwed up and that he would probably just settle out of court with me, but that a jury would probably be unsympathetic if my case went to court, because I did live. So I was thinking about it. And I think she's wrong, I think I could totally make a jury sympathetic to me. I did everything I was supposed to do, lisened to my doctor and when my body told me something was wrong, I tried to call and tell them that and I got no response. I could have died at any second, this doctor is just lucky that I am young and healthy and he made this mistake with me, because that's probably why I didn't. I am a very charasmatic person (plus I cry just thinking about it and juries love tears, right?) and what happened to me could happen to anyone. I could make a jury see that, I'm sure of it. Bottom line, I don't want to go this to go to a jury. But I am leaning more and more toward the suing. He came to see me in the emergency room of the hospital just minutes after they told me I had a blood clot in my leg the size of Texas and he was so arrogant.
He said condscendingly, "So did they tell you about your blood clot?"
"Yes"
"So that's what's really important right now. Why don't you focus on that and then call me in about a week."
As if I didn't realize that his mis-diagnosis didn't land me here. That he could have sent me here 2 weeks earlier and saved me a lot of time and trouble.
This has been life-changing.
Am I better off knowing I have a clotting disorder than not knowing? Absolutely.
But I would have learned that 2 weeks earlier too.
I am now dealing with massive anxiety attacks, that my therapist says are post-traumatic. Would I be dealing with them 2 weeks in?? Who knows??
I feel like we are all allowed to make mistakes, but we also have to be accountable for them. And if I let this guy just walk away... how is he accountable? How is he learning anything from his mistake?
I haven't decided... but you know I am such a big closure girl and I really feel like this would give me some closure.
To sue or not to sue: that is the question...
I've been stewing over the idea of suing the orthopedic specialist who missed my blood clot diagnosis and landed me in the hospital.
Let me go back to the beginning... for those of you who know this story... think of this as a choose your own adventure book and start reading again at the stars... for those of you new... continue here.
I fell down the stairs in April, hurt my foot, went to Urgent Care, they X-rayed it, no break, wrapped it up told me to see my doctor if I was still in pain in 5 days.
Sure enough I was, so I went to my doctor who sent me to have an MRI after those results were muddy at best, my doctor sent me to an orthopedic specialist (we are now about 2 weeks post-injury) The orthopedic specialist put me in one of those walking boots, to be worn at all times except for when I was sleeping or showering and sent me to have a CT Scan of my foot (add a week) and then come back to see him. By the beginning of week 4, (my next appointment was Friday, exactly one month after the original injury) I knew something was really wrong. My leg was swollen up to my knee, so swollen and red it was bigger than my thigh and the skin hurt it was pulled so tight. It was so painful there were nights when I would cry and crawl upstairs to bed and cry and scream as I walked down the stairs to work. The orthopedic specialist gave me no pain medication- told me I didn't need it, but I was in so much pain I couldn't bear it and the stuff my other doctor had give me was gone so I called his office four times in 3 days. Once I left a message on a machine that said that it was checked every 10 minutes and someone would get back to me, no one ever did. Once I talked to someone and they said he was in surgery but they would leave him a note. The next day I talked to someone who said there was a note for him but she would leave another one. No one ever called me back. And no one ever asked me what was going on, why I was having so much pain. Apparently, by this point, the symptoms of a blood clot were so apparent that a med student could easily have diagnosed it without even looking at it. Finally I gave up, deciding I would just attend my appointment on Friday and then they would all feel really stupid because they would realize that something was really wrong. They did... but that something turned out to be a blood clot that started in my ankle and went all they way up to mid-thigh. It had been growing for more than three and a half weeks. I had certainly had it the first time I saw this orthopedic specialist. I had also had it long enough to have two pieces break off and travel through my heart and lodge in my right lung. Luckily they were small enough they didn't lodge in my heart because then, I would have died. I was a walking time bomb for three and a half weeks.
***So I have went through a series of emotions about whether or not to sue this doctor. No matter what I still would have gotten the blood clot. It started forming three to five days after the injury. But as my sister, who is now a PA tells me, a blood clot should always be on the top of an orthopedic specialists mind. I was a smoker and on birth control (factors I disclosed to him), two big risk factors added to the fact that he was isolating my leg almost 24 hours a day. All of that and apparently it never occured to him that I could have a blood clot. For me the bottom line is, if he had paid attention, the blood clot would have been caught way earlier and wouldn't have spread to my lungs. And more importantly, I called that office and was ignored. And during that time that I was ignored, I could have died. I understand that everyone makes mistakes and because of how the medical profession works he's never going to write me an apology letter, so I guess I think the closest thing I'm going to get to an apology, is a little bit of money. I don't want to take this guy's license, or put him out of business. But I hope he has learned a lesson. I hope he has learned to listen to his patients. I hope his whole office staff has learned that if a patient makes that many phone calls, someone needs to talk to her. So last night, my sister said that she thinks he realizes that he screwed up and that he would probably just settle out of court with me, but that a jury would probably be unsympathetic if my case went to court, because I did live. So I was thinking about it. And I think she's wrong, I think I could totally make a jury sympathetic to me. I did everything I was supposed to do, lisened to my doctor and when my body told me something was wrong, I tried to call and tell them that and I got no response. I could have died at any second, this doctor is just lucky that I am young and healthy and he made this mistake with me, because that's probably why I didn't. I am a very charasmatic person (plus I cry just thinking about it and juries love tears, right?) and what happened to me could happen to anyone. I could make a jury see that, I'm sure of it. Bottom line, I don't want to go this to go to a jury. But I am leaning more and more toward the suing. He came to see me in the emergency room of the hospital just minutes after they told me I had a blood clot in my leg the size of Texas and he was so arrogant.
He said condscendingly, "So did they tell you about your blood clot?"
"Yes"
"So that's what's really important right now. Why don't you focus on that and then call me in about a week."
As if I didn't realize that his mis-diagnosis didn't land me here. That he could have sent me here 2 weeks earlier and saved me a lot of time and trouble.
This has been life-changing.
Am I better off knowing I have a clotting disorder than not knowing? Absolutely.
But I would have learned that 2 weeks earlier too.
I am now dealing with massive anxiety attacks, that my therapist says are post-traumatic. Would I be dealing with them 2 weeks in?? Who knows??
I feel like we are all allowed to make mistakes, but we also have to be accountable for them. And if I let this guy just walk away... how is he accountable? How is he learning anything from his mistake?
I haven't decided... but you know I am such a big closure girl and I really feel like this would give me some closure.
To sue or not to sue: that is the question...
2008- A Look Back
So I was sitting here thinking back on 2008 when I realized what a life-changing year this had been for me...
I nearly died
I had to quit drinking, smoking & birth control, all on the same day
I started having anxiety attacks-daily
I began having the worst PMS ever
Then I got horrible, horrible cramps
Along came the migranes
And the slew of ever-changing medications to try to cure my craziness.
Of course all of this came at a price- a very steep price- so for the first time ever, I went into debt (a place I am very uncomfortable being)
Then in this failing economy we were told no raises, no bonuses, just be lucky we have jobs!
And of course, I can't forget somewhere in the middle of all of that, I met the love of my life- the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. What a year!!!
I just wanted to take a minute to thank the people who have been there through it all... my friends and family, who were there when I was in pain and listened to me bitch, rushed to and never left my hospital bedside, filled the room with flowers, but more importantly gave me the support and love that I so needed at that time. And then in the weeks and months after, when it was like one blow after another, when it seemed like I should be getting better but instead always had a new problem, they were always there to listen to me. And I know so many times I was such a bitch to be around and they never compained (at least not to my face ;-)
Thank you all for being there for me... you know I have such high expectations for all of my friends, you have surpassed them and it will NEVER be forgotten.
To my boyfriend, the love of my life, my rock. The man who the first night I hung out with him, I had a massive anxiety attack and spilled it all... all about how crazy I was. Instead of running (probably like he should have) he rubbed my back and told me it was going to be okay. He still does that to this day. Before we even met, when we were just talking on the phone, that's when I was hospitalized, he sent a real fresh freezer-packed lei to the hospital for me. I couldn't even describe to you how supportive he has been of me and all my pu-pule pills (pu-pule is crazy in Hawaiian!!) And no one has gotten the wrath of my PMS worse than him. I don't know how I would have made it through this year without him. I can't think about trying to make it through this year without him.
I know I am not perfect- I mean I am perfect (insert your laughter) but we are still working on fixing my craziness. I feel like we are finally on the right path, and I just hope you all know that I could NOT have gotten here without you, your love and your support. Whether you knew it your not, there were days I wanted to quit, days I was so frustrated, days I was so over feeling crazy, or being in pain and then one of you, without even knowing, would do something nice and remind me what I was fighting for. I LOVE YOU ALL MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW. I don't have family here... you all are my family... Thank from the bottom of my heart for making what could have been a devestating year.. bearable!
I nearly died
I had to quit drinking, smoking & birth control, all on the same day
I started having anxiety attacks-daily
I began having the worst PMS ever
Then I got horrible, horrible cramps
Along came the migranes
And the slew of ever-changing medications to try to cure my craziness.
Of course all of this came at a price- a very steep price- so for the first time ever, I went into debt (a place I am very uncomfortable being)
Then in this failing economy we were told no raises, no bonuses, just be lucky we have jobs!
And of course, I can't forget somewhere in the middle of all of that, I met the love of my life- the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. What a year!!!
I just wanted to take a minute to thank the people who have been there through it all... my friends and family, who were there when I was in pain and listened to me bitch, rushed to and never left my hospital bedside, filled the room with flowers, but more importantly gave me the support and love that I so needed at that time. And then in the weeks and months after, when it was like one blow after another, when it seemed like I should be getting better but instead always had a new problem, they were always there to listen to me. And I know so many times I was such a bitch to be around and they never compained (at least not to my face ;-)
Thank you all for being there for me... you know I have such high expectations for all of my friends, you have surpassed them and it will NEVER be forgotten.
To my boyfriend, the love of my life, my rock. The man who the first night I hung out with him, I had a massive anxiety attack and spilled it all... all about how crazy I was. Instead of running (probably like he should have) he rubbed my back and told me it was going to be okay. He still does that to this day. Before we even met, when we were just talking on the phone, that's when I was hospitalized, he sent a real fresh freezer-packed lei to the hospital for me. I couldn't even describe to you how supportive he has been of me and all my pu-pule pills (pu-pule is crazy in Hawaiian!!) And no one has gotten the wrath of my PMS worse than him. I don't know how I would have made it through this year without him. I can't think about trying to make it through this year without him.
I know I am not perfect- I mean I am perfect (insert your laughter) but we are still working on fixing my craziness. I feel like we are finally on the right path, and I just hope you all know that I could NOT have gotten here without you, your love and your support. Whether you knew it your not, there were days I wanted to quit, days I was so frustrated, days I was so over feeling crazy, or being in pain and then one of you, without even knowing, would do something nice and remind me what I was fighting for. I LOVE YOU ALL MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW. I don't have family here... you all are my family... Thank from the bottom of my heart for making what could have been a devestating year.. bearable!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Art of Gift Giving
So listen up people... the art of gift giving is not that difficult. Let me GIVE you the basic rules. First of all... it totally does not matter how much money you spend but it does matter THAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE PERSON YOU ARE GIVING THE GIFT TO! All I'm saying is this, put a little time and effort into it. Does the person have a favorite hobby, like to go out to eat, love jewelry, have a favorite store? Think about those things and then act. I say stay away from the gift cards if at all possible, they are impersonal. But sometimes, if someone (like me right now!) needs money, a Visa gift card isn't such a bad gift!!!!
Where is this all coming from... well last night I received a gift of a wine carrying bag, a wine cork, a wine opener and a bottle of wine... from my aunt and uncle who thought I was still on the wagon (still not drinking because of my blood clot and the coumadin). Who in their right f-ing mind would give that gift to someone who is not drinking??? How unthoughtful and just plain rude is that? That's like giving an alcoholic a bottle of jack- "Just for entertaining of course!" WTF. Then, and this is a little thing, but it was a bottle of red. Now, I have drank wine with these people for years and never have I ever drank red. So you would think that they would maybe think to at least give me a bottle of the kind of wine that I actually like (white) but no, even that is too much. My mom reminded me that they are moving so they must just be trying to unload their wine supply. Then she took the bottle of red off my hands and said she would give me money for my favorite bottle of white (which is P.S. $12 with a Safeway club card). BTW... My mom, my sister and my cousin & his wife all got the same gift. If you're not going to bother to give a shit about the person you are giving the gift to, that why bother giving the gift???
Where is this all coming from... well last night I received a gift of a wine carrying bag, a wine cork, a wine opener and a bottle of wine... from my aunt and uncle who thought I was still on the wagon (still not drinking because of my blood clot and the coumadin). Who in their right f-ing mind would give that gift to someone who is not drinking??? How unthoughtful and just plain rude is that? That's like giving an alcoholic a bottle of jack- "Just for entertaining of course!" WTF. Then, and this is a little thing, but it was a bottle of red. Now, I have drank wine with these people for years and never have I ever drank red. So you would think that they would maybe think to at least give me a bottle of the kind of wine that I actually like (white) but no, even that is too much. My mom reminded me that they are moving so they must just be trying to unload their wine supply. Then she took the bottle of red off my hands and said she would give me money for my favorite bottle of white (which is P.S. $12 with a Safeway club card). BTW... My mom, my sister and my cousin & his wife all got the same gift. If you're not going to bother to give a shit about the person you are giving the gift to, that why bother giving the gift???
Living in Guantanamo
So I'm home for the holidays... for those of you who don't know, that's Minnesota.
Let me start at the beginning. After learning my flight was taking off 30 minutes earlier than I had planned, I hauled ass to the kennel to drop off my babies (don't worry, they are dogs!) and then rushed to the airport and through security only to get to my gate and find out I had a 3 hour delay because it was snowing in Minnesota. Guess I didn't have to run huh? Ahh, winter in Minnesota. How I miss it? NOT! But it sure is nice to have snow for Christmas, which is why I come home. So anyway, let's get to the good part. My family picks me up. It's -9 degrees, that of course does not include the wind chill. Those of you who have no idea what a wind chill is... have no idea. Basically what it means is it feels like -30. It's great to be home. We're driving home (my family lets me sit up front because they know what a wuss I am and that seat has butt warmers, I kiss the feet of the man or woman who invented butt warmers!!!) so I say to my dad, "I turned my house down to 72 before I left."
He laughs.
"What?" I asked.
"When we get home our engery saver will probably already be home so that means our house will be at 65, right Jan, isn't that what our energy saver is?? 65??"
I gasp!!!
"Are you kidding me?? Dad prisoners at Guantanamo Bay get better treatment than that!"
"Well Michelle, they are in Cuba. Besides, you are already supposed to be all tucked in your nice warm bed and you don't need the house to be that warm."
"That is unacceptable living conditions", I protest.
"Don't worry", my mom pipes in, "we'll turn it up to 70 while you're here."
Gee thanks I think 70... I live in Arizona and during the winter I keep my house at 76. But I don't want to press my luck so I guess 3 layers at all times it is!! Welcome home.
Now only if the story ended there...
So yesterday... we have a big day. My sister wakes me up to get into the shower. I turn it on, get in and literally 2 minutes later my hot water is gone... I mean gone. So I figure this is like Guantanamo Bay and I better ration. I put the shampoo in, turn the heat up and then jump under the water until it gets too cold. Now I figure I have just minutes of hot water left (the dial is near the end), so I put conditioner in my hair, soap on my face, soap on my body... and turned it all the way up. It was hot for all of two minutes... so I scrubbed as much soap off as I could... and then retreated. Where am I? Is this treatment just for me? Is it a sign I am never to come back?? So in the car to breakfast I tell my mom about my shower encounter.
"Really she says, we just got a new water heater. Your father is going to be pissed."
"Well something is not working right." I respond. "You know that's how you know your shower is over in prison mom, the water gets ice cold. Are you trying to tell me something??"
She just laughs.
This would be enough right... but there is more.
So last night, I go to wash my face, and there is no hot water... NONE. I mean I let the water run for minutes turned all the way up. So my mom comes up and I tell her. (After, of course, I had washed my face with freezing cold water) She says she'll have to leave a note for my dad. Uh-oh. Minutes later, I'm in my room and I hear footsteps (hard, unhappy footsteps going all the way to the basement). My mom comes back later.
"Thanks for telling us about the hot water problem. The pilot light was out on the brand new hot water heater. I hope this doesn't become a problem. That could have made for some cold showers for us tomorrow morning."
So glad I could be here to be your hot water guinea pig!!!
Let me start at the beginning. After learning my flight was taking off 30 minutes earlier than I had planned, I hauled ass to the kennel to drop off my babies (don't worry, they are dogs!) and then rushed to the airport and through security only to get to my gate and find out I had a 3 hour delay because it was snowing in Minnesota. Guess I didn't have to run huh? Ahh, winter in Minnesota. How I miss it? NOT! But it sure is nice to have snow for Christmas, which is why I come home. So anyway, let's get to the good part. My family picks me up. It's -9 degrees, that of course does not include the wind chill. Those of you who have no idea what a wind chill is... have no idea. Basically what it means is it feels like -30. It's great to be home. We're driving home (my family lets me sit up front because they know what a wuss I am and that seat has butt warmers, I kiss the feet of the man or woman who invented butt warmers!!!) so I say to my dad, "I turned my house down to 72 before I left."
He laughs.
"What?" I asked.
"When we get home our engery saver will probably already be home so that means our house will be at 65, right Jan, isn't that what our energy saver is?? 65??"
I gasp!!!
"Are you kidding me?? Dad prisoners at Guantanamo Bay get better treatment than that!"
"Well Michelle, they are in Cuba. Besides, you are already supposed to be all tucked in your nice warm bed and you don't need the house to be that warm."
"That is unacceptable living conditions", I protest.
"Don't worry", my mom pipes in, "we'll turn it up to 70 while you're here."
Gee thanks I think 70... I live in Arizona and during the winter I keep my house at 76. But I don't want to press my luck so I guess 3 layers at all times it is!! Welcome home.
Now only if the story ended there...
So yesterday... we have a big day. My sister wakes me up to get into the shower. I turn it on, get in and literally 2 minutes later my hot water is gone... I mean gone. So I figure this is like Guantanamo Bay and I better ration. I put the shampoo in, turn the heat up and then jump under the water until it gets too cold. Now I figure I have just minutes of hot water left (the dial is near the end), so I put conditioner in my hair, soap on my face, soap on my body... and turned it all the way up. It was hot for all of two minutes... so I scrubbed as much soap off as I could... and then retreated. Where am I? Is this treatment just for me? Is it a sign I am never to come back?? So in the car to breakfast I tell my mom about my shower encounter.
"Really she says, we just got a new water heater. Your father is going to be pissed."
"Well something is not working right." I respond. "You know that's how you know your shower is over in prison mom, the water gets ice cold. Are you trying to tell me something??"
She just laughs.
This would be enough right... but there is more.
So last night, I go to wash my face, and there is no hot water... NONE. I mean I let the water run for minutes turned all the way up. So my mom comes up and I tell her. (After, of course, I had washed my face with freezing cold water) She says she'll have to leave a note for my dad. Uh-oh. Minutes later, I'm in my room and I hear footsteps (hard, unhappy footsteps going all the way to the basement). My mom comes back later.
"Thanks for telling us about the hot water problem. The pilot light was out on the brand new hot water heater. I hope this doesn't become a problem. That could have made for some cold showers for us tomorrow morning."
So glad I could be here to be your hot water guinea pig!!!
Monday, December 15, 2008
Laying down the Law!!!
So my blog has done exactly what I wanted it to do... got people's attention, got people reading, and thinking, and debating. But it seems things are getting a little out of control on Living Lawless (i.e. Sexual Judgments) so as the blog master (I've always wanted to be master of something... ceremony... ju jitsu... S&M- I was just kidding about that last part;-) I'm taking back control!!!
Anyway... it's time for me to lay down the law!!!
Here at Living Lawless... there are a few things you should know..
1. You should always, always agree with what I write, even if I'm ranting and raving and way out of control. You should agree (or at least pretend to)
2. You must have a hatred for photo radar... not dislike... I said hatred. And you must always promise to try and duck tickets... If we don't pay, they don't make money and then maybe they will go away.
3. You must believe that getting new toilet paper and paper towel dispensers as opposed to me getting a raise is ridiculous... enough said.
4. You must never, ever under any circumstances use my blog to go after my friends. My friends are my family here. And we fight like family, we love like family, and we defend each other like family. Take your hatred elsewhere.
5. You must think crazy is cool... because a lot of the time I am!
6. You must think that I am one of the funniest people you know... and email this blog link to as many people as you know... Ready?? Go!!
So... now that we have all agreed on the rules.. and you have signed on the dotted line.. feel free to continue to read my hilarious, honest, open, over-the-top, sometimes boring, but always thoughtful blog. And keep those comments coming...
Anyway... it's time for me to lay down the law!!!
Here at Living Lawless... there are a few things you should know..
1. You should always, always agree with what I write, even if I'm ranting and raving and way out of control. You should agree (or at least pretend to)
2. You must have a hatred for photo radar... not dislike... I said hatred. And you must always promise to try and duck tickets... If we don't pay, they don't make money and then maybe they will go away.
3. You must believe that getting new toilet paper and paper towel dispensers as opposed to me getting a raise is ridiculous... enough said.
4. You must never, ever under any circumstances use my blog to go after my friends. My friends are my family here. And we fight like family, we love like family, and we defend each other like family. Take your hatred elsewhere.
5. You must think crazy is cool... because a lot of the time I am!
6. You must think that I am one of the funniest people you know... and email this blog link to as many people as you know... Ready?? Go!!
So... now that we have all agreed on the rules.. and you have signed on the dotted line.. feel free to continue to read my hilarious, honest, open, over-the-top, sometimes boring, but always thoughtful blog. And keep those comments coming...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Discriminated, Freezing & Annoyed: Not a good combination!
The Cardinals vs Vikings. Already I was torn, I have loved the Vikings since I was a little girl, but the Cardinals are playing well... and it would be nice to have some good football in the valley. So I ended up wearing a red Adrian Peterson T-shirt. The incognito Vikings fan!! I figured it would be a close game and I would spend the entire time cheering right... WRONG!
So first... It was freezing today. No sun, barely 50-degrees and we were tailgating outside. Sometimes I forget it can get cold in AZ and so I had a jacket but I definitely should have had one more layer on and a hat. So finally we are making our way to the stadium and I am super excited... 1. for the game and 2. to get out of the freezing cold. We get to the lines and the girls have to go through one side, boys through the other, because you have to be patted down. So I get in my line and the guy says to me, you can't take that bag in. Shocked, I respond "What?"
"It's too big."
"What do you mean it's too big??" (I mean I have a fairly large purse, but it's not a duffle bag, and they search them so why does it matter what size it is??)
"It can only be 12 inches, by 12 inches" (First of all, since when?? and second of all why?? That doesn't even make sense. If you are going to search my bag why does it matter how big it is. Do you think I am hiding bomb making materials in here?? Do I look like a purse terrorist to you?)
Then right before my eyes, we see the same man that just yelled at me let another woman with a big purse go through. So we say something to him, and he says "Oh, they'll catch her up there."
So not only is there rule a whole bunch of bullshit, but they are also not enforcing it all the time.
So we switch lines and I try again. Same story here, only this time I run into a very angry woman who says it said it on my ticket and I should already know not to try to bring it in. Where the fuck are we?? Even the airport let's me carry my purse on to the plane???
So after we walk all the way back and stash my purse in one of Andy's friends cars... we are finally allowed into the game. I am super excited. We make our way to our seats... (great seats by the way... club level... that means special!) and immediately I realize the roof is open. It's like 50 fucking degrees... cloudy... and now its freezing in the stadium too!!! Who makes these stupid decisions?? I asked someone who told me the NFL insisted the roof was open for the game, even if it rained. Are you f-ing kidding me?? Isn't that why we have a roof... for when it's too hot, or too cold??
And finally... we were sitting right in front of these drunk Vikings fans (fans who were giving Minnesota a bad name PS) They were so loud... and inappropriate.. and they yelled about everything. And the woman's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Seriously, I'm all for cheering... standing... clapping when things happen. But I just don't think it's neccessary to always be screaming!! Basically what I am saying is if you have an annoy voice... shut the fuck up!!!
But despite all that, I had a great time...
Vikings spanked the Cardinals.... 35-14... It was like a win-win game for me. Andy was great to hang out with!! And we had some good food.
But seriously... it should not be that difficult to get into a football game (especially one I have a ticket for)... I should not be freezing inside the stadium.. and annoying fans should learn how to shut the fuck up.
((Just one last thing... I read the back of my ticket... and no where did it say that my purse could be no bigger than 12x12... so also... they are f-ing liars!!!
Now I'm really done!!!))
So first... It was freezing today. No sun, barely 50-degrees and we were tailgating outside. Sometimes I forget it can get cold in AZ and so I had a jacket but I definitely should have had one more layer on and a hat. So finally we are making our way to the stadium and I am super excited... 1. for the game and 2. to get out of the freezing cold. We get to the lines and the girls have to go through one side, boys through the other, because you have to be patted down. So I get in my line and the guy says to me, you can't take that bag in. Shocked, I respond "What?"
"It's too big."
"What do you mean it's too big??" (I mean I have a fairly large purse, but it's not a duffle bag, and they search them so why does it matter what size it is??)
"It can only be 12 inches, by 12 inches" (First of all, since when?? and second of all why?? That doesn't even make sense. If you are going to search my bag why does it matter how big it is. Do you think I am hiding bomb making materials in here?? Do I look like a purse terrorist to you?)
Then right before my eyes, we see the same man that just yelled at me let another woman with a big purse go through. So we say something to him, and he says "Oh, they'll catch her up there."
So not only is there rule a whole bunch of bullshit, but they are also not enforcing it all the time.
So we switch lines and I try again. Same story here, only this time I run into a very angry woman who says it said it on my ticket and I should already know not to try to bring it in. Where the fuck are we?? Even the airport let's me carry my purse on to the plane???
So after we walk all the way back and stash my purse in one of Andy's friends cars... we are finally allowed into the game. I am super excited. We make our way to our seats... (great seats by the way... club level... that means special!) and immediately I realize the roof is open. It's like 50 fucking degrees... cloudy... and now its freezing in the stadium too!!! Who makes these stupid decisions?? I asked someone who told me the NFL insisted the roof was open for the game, even if it rained. Are you f-ing kidding me?? Isn't that why we have a roof... for when it's too hot, or too cold??
And finally... we were sitting right in front of these drunk Vikings fans (fans who were giving Minnesota a bad name PS) They were so loud... and inappropriate.. and they yelled about everything. And the woman's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Seriously, I'm all for cheering... standing... clapping when things happen. But I just don't think it's neccessary to always be screaming!! Basically what I am saying is if you have an annoy voice... shut the fuck up!!!
But despite all that, I had a great time...
Vikings spanked the Cardinals.... 35-14... It was like a win-win game for me. Andy was great to hang out with!! And we had some good food.
But seriously... it should not be that difficult to get into a football game (especially one I have a ticket for)... I should not be freezing inside the stadium.. and annoying fans should learn how to shut the fuck up.
((Just one last thing... I read the back of my ticket... and no where did it say that my purse could be no bigger than 12x12... so also... they are f-ing liars!!!
Now I'm really done!!!))
Friday, December 12, 2008
Let down... and not gently
Every once in a while we all get let down... even by our closest, best, most thoughtful and caring friends. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. When you needed me I dropped everything to be there... to do whatever was needed to make you feel better. To support... to love... And today, I needed you. I needed you to help me feel better. To do me a favor so that I could make it through my day. A favor I asked for way in advance... and you promised you would do. But instead you decided shopping was more important... so you blew me off. You left me to spend the entire day at work in pain... knowing full well what I would be going through. But perhaps even worse... you made my babies suffer... 24 hours with no bathroom breaks... meant two nice big pee spots on my carpet when I got home. And I can't blame them. It's my fault really. They are my responsibility... and I shouldn't have forgotten my meds... but you still let me down. It doesn't mean I don't love you... or that I love you any less... but you picked shopping over me... and that's just a sad fact. One I hope never happens again...
The lesson here my friends... we all make mistakes... we all fuck up... we all make bad choices...
But I think when we put something as stupid as say "shopping" in front of our friends... we are really dropping the ball.
Time to pick it up... learn from our mistakes... make our apologies and move on.
You don't let great friends go over stupid things like this.. but you certainly don't let them slide either.
I just think everyday you should be asking yourself.. what kind of friend do I want to be... and what kind of friend am I being?
The lesson here my friends... we all make mistakes... we all fuck up... we all make bad choices...
But I think when we put something as stupid as say "shopping" in front of our friends... we are really dropping the ball.
Time to pick it up... learn from our mistakes... make our apologies and move on.
You don't let great friends go over stupid things like this.. but you certainly don't let them slide either.
I just think everyday you should be asking yourself.. what kind of friend do I want to be... and what kind of friend am I being?
The Chameleon...
Recently I have discovered a new type of person... well I guess probably not new, but new to me. I've dubbed him/her... the chameleon. We all know one, but just maybe haven't stopped to realize who they are. It's the friend who is always on your side. The co-worker who thinks your ideas are great. The significant other who wants to do whatever you do. It must get tired being the chameleon, constantly changing your colors, your beliefs, your opinions, your stories. And here's the scary part, like a chameleon in the wild, I think most human chameleons are really good at hiding their true colors. They let you see exactly what you want to see... and no more. It is only if you catch a chameleon off guard... or out of their element that you can ever really bust them. They are smart, sneeky, deceiteful creatures. So here is my point for all of you... They are all around us... pretending to be exactly what you wanted them to be... or exactly what they are expected to be. Open your eyes... look closely... I think it's about time we start busting the chameleons at their own game!!!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
A Hilarious First
A first for me!!! Let's face it... it doesn't happen very often for me (I'm kinda one of those been there, done there kinda girls!!) So I get super excited to do something new... and let's just say this last adventure did not disappoint.
Yes... I have a bucket list. I decided to make it early in life... and add all along the way, making sure that I am always pushing myself to do different things. So one of the things that has been sitting on my list for at least a year... going to a comedy show. Then I heard Chelsea Handler, star of one of my favorite late night talk shows and author of a book I'm reading right now, was coming to Phoenix. I had to go!! I easily found two girlfriends to accompany me... and we were off. I was hoping to be entertained... but I got that... and so much more!!
First... Heather, Long-boobs, camel-toe opened. She was hilarious in her own way (If you don't watch Chelsea Lately... at least for the round tables at the beginning of the show... you are totally missing out!!)
And then came Chelsea!!! I know that she is supposed to be a raging alcoholic... who loves to fuck... sometimes really wierd guys... at least until she got her new boyfriend (who she calls the "silver fox") and I have heard is the head of E! which is why she got a show. P.S. I don't really care why she got a show... she is fucking hilarious... she should have one!! So anyway... this whole drinking thing. As a loyal Chelsea Lately viewer I can tell you she is not drunk while she tapes the show... the same however is not true for her comedy shows. She was definitely drunk... except she could still do her show... and make me laugh so hard my stomach hurt. Do they call that "functioning alcoholic"??? If so, I say function away... she cracked me up. On stage... she had two water bottles and glass with a stray and a lemon... I can only assume vodka and soda accompanied it! (Correct me if I'm wrong Chelsea!!!) Whatever it was, it doesn't matter. Her show was everything I wanted and more. Totally inapporpriate... a lot about sex... with a little something else thrown in. I laughed so hard I cried, nearly peed my pants... and seriously felt like I had been doing sit-ups for hours. My first comedy show... definitely a success... I may be addicted now... who's next?!!
Yes... I have a bucket list. I decided to make it early in life... and add all along the way, making sure that I am always pushing myself to do different things. So one of the things that has been sitting on my list for at least a year... going to a comedy show. Then I heard Chelsea Handler, star of one of my favorite late night talk shows and author of a book I'm reading right now, was coming to Phoenix. I had to go!! I easily found two girlfriends to accompany me... and we were off. I was hoping to be entertained... but I got that... and so much more!!
First... Heather, Long-boobs, camel-toe opened. She was hilarious in her own way (If you don't watch Chelsea Lately... at least for the round tables at the beginning of the show... you are totally missing out!!)
And then came Chelsea!!! I know that she is supposed to be a raging alcoholic... who loves to fuck... sometimes really wierd guys... at least until she got her new boyfriend (who she calls the "silver fox") and I have heard is the head of E! which is why she got a show. P.S. I don't really care why she got a show... she is fucking hilarious... she should have one!! So anyway... this whole drinking thing. As a loyal Chelsea Lately viewer I can tell you she is not drunk while she tapes the show... the same however is not true for her comedy shows. She was definitely drunk... except she could still do her show... and make me laugh so hard my stomach hurt. Do they call that "functioning alcoholic"??? If so, I say function away... she cracked me up. On stage... she had two water bottles and glass with a stray and a lemon... I can only assume vodka and soda accompanied it! (Correct me if I'm wrong Chelsea!!!) Whatever it was, it doesn't matter. Her show was everything I wanted and more. Totally inapporpriate... a lot about sex... with a little something else thrown in. I laughed so hard I cried, nearly peed my pants... and seriously felt like I had been doing sit-ups for hours. My first comedy show... definitely a success... I may be addicted now... who's next?!!
Sexual Judgements
So recently I found myself thrust into the middle of a discussion between casual and relationship sex. The value, or lack there of, of each, and the effect each can have on your future or current state. As the conversation, got me all fired up... I decided I should be able to (even though it totally doesn't concern me) voice my opinion here. (Let's be honest, when was the last time I stayed out of something controversial??)
So basically these are two very good friends, one female, one male. One who believes and practices casual sex (practices-like it's a religion?!!!). The other who reserves sex for serious committed relationships. Is one way right and the other wrong? Hell no. When it comes to sex, my philosophy has always been to each their own. As long as your needs are being met, and your feelings protected... do as you please.
But in case you haven't noticed from previous posts... I fall into the casual sex religion. In fact at the ripe old age of 27 (no I am not going to tell you how many people I have slept with!!)... there have been 4 times in my life when I was in a relationship (including right now), but since the age of 17 I have been having sex. Sometimes it was for the wrong reasons; I was looking for validation, or love, or I hoped this boy cared more than he really did. But often, it was just because I really enjoy sex and so I felt like I shouldn't deny myself that just because I hadn't found anyone I wanted to sleep with... and date!!! (As most of you know, it's a tough combination to find!!!)
Anyway, the part that fired me up about the conversation (that I was not a part of)... was the part where friend 1 said to friend 2 that he/she was not allowing his/herself to find a relationship because of the casual sex. And that the casual sex was the reason he/she was alone!!! I call total bullshit on that... and I can back it up with a relationship to prove it.
As I mentioned before... I've never really stopped having sex (I mean I've had dry spells, but that's a totally different blog)... and I am in a wonderful relationship now.. with a man I plan to marry. We are in a long distance relationship... and didn't meet in person until about 5 months after we started talking. (It wasn't internet dating or anything like that.... although I have done that... and have some crazy stories... blogs to come.. I promise!) But we started talking because a very good mutual friend of ours thought we would hit it off at her wedding... and have a great "wedding fling" (again a casual sex situation). That's what it was supposed to be... and so before I realized I was falling in love with him... I was still having casual sex.
Bottom line... my casual sex didn't stop me from finding the right one... and falling in love.
I think everyone should make decisions about when they are going to have sex or not, all on their own... but the bottom line is... I don't think any of us have the right to be making sexual judgements.
So basically these are two very good friends, one female, one male. One who believes and practices casual sex (practices-like it's a religion?!!!). The other who reserves sex for serious committed relationships. Is one way right and the other wrong? Hell no. When it comes to sex, my philosophy has always been to each their own. As long as your needs are being met, and your feelings protected... do as you please.
But in case you haven't noticed from previous posts... I fall into the casual sex religion. In fact at the ripe old age of 27 (no I am not going to tell you how many people I have slept with!!)... there have been 4 times in my life when I was in a relationship (including right now), but since the age of 17 I have been having sex. Sometimes it was for the wrong reasons; I was looking for validation, or love, or I hoped this boy cared more than he really did. But often, it was just because I really enjoy sex and so I felt like I shouldn't deny myself that just because I hadn't found anyone I wanted to sleep with... and date!!! (As most of you know, it's a tough combination to find!!!)
Anyway, the part that fired me up about the conversation (that I was not a part of)... was the part where friend 1 said to friend 2 that he/she was not allowing his/herself to find a relationship because of the casual sex. And that the casual sex was the reason he/she was alone!!! I call total bullshit on that... and I can back it up with a relationship to prove it.
As I mentioned before... I've never really stopped having sex (I mean I've had dry spells, but that's a totally different blog)... and I am in a wonderful relationship now.. with a man I plan to marry. We are in a long distance relationship... and didn't meet in person until about 5 months after we started talking. (It wasn't internet dating or anything like that.... although I have done that... and have some crazy stories... blogs to come.. I promise!) But we started talking because a very good mutual friend of ours thought we would hit it off at her wedding... and have a great "wedding fling" (again a casual sex situation). That's what it was supposed to be... and so before I realized I was falling in love with him... I was still having casual sex.
Bottom line... my casual sex didn't stop me from finding the right one... and falling in love.
I think everyone should make decisions about when they are going to have sex or not, all on their own... but the bottom line is... I don't think any of us have the right to be making sexual judgements.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Update to the Update: Tough Times??
Some might call this third blog about new paper towel & toilet paper dispensers obsessive... but fuck "some". Today, as I was again discussing my frustrations with our ability to get new bathroom appliances but not properly compensate our hard working staff... someone said to me, "You know those automatic paper towel dispensers are just so they can save money on paper towels, so there aren't so many wasted?!" It was a point I hadn't yet thought of but to one I say this... If your automatic paper towel dispensers actually work... and people want to use the over abundance of paper towels they always use to dry their hands... they will just wave their hands more than once. It doesn't take a genius... or a mensanite... I mean it's not like they cut you off. Like a little voice from inside the dispenser says, "I'm sorry ma'am you've reached your paper towel limit" and then stops the dispensing. Someone show me the graph that proves how quickly these high tech bathroom appliances are going to pay for themselves. But you know what will be a problem, the liability you will have on your wet hands when I for real lose it... because I have to keep drying my hands on my f-ing jeans. They are brand new... do you think they could work properly for a day?? And what about the toilet paper dispensers... because there is nothing stopping the over-usage there. No waving to get four squares... or button pushing to dispense the perfect ass-wiping amount. Oh no, you could pull toilet paper to your hearts desire. So how are those benefiting us? How are they saving us money? The answer, my friends, is it is all a bunch of waha... waha... that ends with wasting money... and without my raise. I rest my case... at least for now.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Update: Tough Times??
So I'm in our wonderfully new applianced bathroom today. And I go to wash my hands...
Water on-check
Soaping hands up- check
Rinsing hands off-check
Drying hands off- nothing!!!
Our beautiful (I say beautiful, but really they look like cheap steel boxes) new handless paper towel dispensers, don't work. I mean nothing. I wove my hand slowly across the front... quickly across the front... slowing underneath... quickly underneath... I touched the "magic button" on the bottom... NOTHING. And then I move to the other magic dispenser... and repeated all my tricks... and still NOTHING. Listen... I'm not trying to say anything, but never have my smooth strokes ever been denied like this before!!! So after five minutes of stroking (which is way beyond my limit!!!) I dried my hands on my fucking jeans and left the bathroom. This my friends is my raise's replacement?? WTF??? At least with our old paper towel dispensers, I got a paper towel... and a chance at a raise!!! I'm not trying to raise some hell, but whose f-ing idea was this? Under what circumstances are non-touch paper towel dispensers worth more than your producer's sanity?? I am on the brink of losing it... and the fact that I can't even get a paper towel to wipe my G-D hands is only pushing me closer to the edge. And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone... don't look now... but we may be on the verge of a paper towel mutiny in the women's bathroom...
Water on-check
Soaping hands up- check
Rinsing hands off-check
Drying hands off- nothing!!!
Our beautiful (I say beautiful, but really they look like cheap steel boxes) new handless paper towel dispensers, don't work. I mean nothing. I wove my hand slowly across the front... quickly across the front... slowing underneath... quickly underneath... I touched the "magic button" on the bottom... NOTHING. And then I move to the other magic dispenser... and repeated all my tricks... and still NOTHING. Listen... I'm not trying to say anything, but never have my smooth strokes ever been denied like this before!!! So after five minutes of stroking (which is way beyond my limit!!!) I dried my hands on my fucking jeans and left the bathroom. This my friends is my raise's replacement?? WTF??? At least with our old paper towel dispensers, I got a paper towel... and a chance at a raise!!! I'm not trying to raise some hell, but whose f-ing idea was this? Under what circumstances are non-touch paper towel dispensers worth more than your producer's sanity?? I am on the brink of losing it... and the fact that I can't even get a paper towel to wipe my G-D hands is only pushing me closer to the edge. And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone... don't look now... but we may be on the verge of a paper towel mutiny in the women's bathroom...
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Tough Times? Not wiping my ass!!!
So the other day I get this e-mail at work, and it's from one of our maintenence guys about how they were installing new toilet paper dispensers in the bathrooms. And soon we would be getting new paper towel dispensers, you know the kind you just wave your hand under and the paper towel automatically comes out. I blow it off, until today... I'm shi shi-ing (that's peeing in Hawaiian!!) and I go to get some toilet paper and realize I'm pulling it from a brand new dispenser. And then it hits me. Just a couple weeks ago we had this nice little meeting to talk about how the economy sucks... and so we should not expect raises. And they were going to ask the people who had raises built into their contracts (not me) to forgo them this year. There was also some talk (behind the scenes) that perhaps another round of layoffs would be coming next year. So basically, I realized. We somehow have money to make sure the toilet paper I wipe my ass with and the paper towels I dry my hands on come from the finest of machines, but we don't have the money to give our people (who P.S. are already under paid... and struggling) a raise. I think this is nothing less than a bunch of waha nui (that's Hawaiian for bullshit). We don't need an ice cream social once a month... or even a bar-b-que. We need money to pay our bills and buy our friends and family presents this holiday season. These "tough times" don't just effect our station. They are affecting our lives. And we should know... we do stories about it every day. So all I'm saying is... I was perfectly fine getting my toilet paper from the slightly g-hetto t-p dispensers, but really, big thanks for making that job easier. Now if I could just figure out how to pay my mortgage.....
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Thank this!!!!!
I got the funniest thing in the mail from my mom today. For those of you who know my mom, this will be hilarious, but I'm pretty sure the rest of you will get a kick out of it too. (That's so one of her lines- kick out of it!)
A little background if you don't know her. We are from Minnesota (think Sarah Palin, I mean... my mom doesn't hunt moose, she's not a hockey mom, neither my sister nor I were knocked up at 17 and as far as I know she has never talked about putting lipstick on a farm animal... so basically think the accent and maybe the down-home attitude), she is the friendliest woman ever, you know the kind that has a meaniful conversation with the person in the line behind her at the grocery store, and she is always involved... in everything!!!)
So first... The note that came with my letter today. It read:
Michelle-
This was in the Mpls Star Tribune (our newspaper in MN) and made me laugh. I hope you do the same. I just wanted you to know your mother isn't the only one to say thank you! Love ya, Mom
Before we get to the newspaper clipping enclosed... I must first give you the back story. One weekend when I was about 18-years-old, my mom and I had driven down to my grandma's house. This is about a 3 hour drive through the farmlands of southern Minnesota... enchanting... really!!! So at about 11pm on a Saturday night, we are drving home. I am driving, as we were taking turns, when all of a sudden red and blues in my rear-view mirror. I was pulled over by a kind officer of some hick town... who as soon as he saw I was from the "big city" on my license, was bound and determined to give me a ticket. But not just a speeding ticket, the biggest one he could give me. He proceeded to tell us, he had been following me for about 2 miles and at one point I was going 16 miles over the speed limit- I call B.S. (and which P.S., put me into a whole new level of the amount of money I was going to have to pay this small town for speeding. Ironic, isn't it??) Now before I go any further, I would like to point out that at this very moment (despite what you may think about my driving now), I had a clean driving record. No speeding tickets, I hadn't even been stopped, and photo radar wasn't even a blip in my world. So anyway, this kind officer writes me a speeding ticket for spending a weekend at my grandma's and driving home on a Saturday night with my mom (that'll teach me). If that weren't enough... my mom... from the passenger seat, begins thanking this officer, not once... but over and over again. While I was rolling my window up she was still shouting her thanks at this wonderful man of the law. As soon as I was sure he was out of earshot, I shot my mom one hell of a look. "Why are you thanking him?? He just wrote me a huge speeding ticket!!!" Her reply, "I don't know. He was nice!"
So fast forward to tonight... and the newspaper clipping in the letter from my mom. It should put it all into perspective!!!
It was one of those Dear so-and-so things. The reader writes in a question, the "expert" answers. This one happened to be to Miss Manners, who I can only assume is the word on what polite people should and should not do. It went like this:
Dear Miss Manners: Receiving a citation from a law enforcement officer, in person, is generally a very unpleasant surprise (for example, when being stopped for speeding). However, at the conclusion of such interaction, it seems dismissing the officer with a "thank you" after receipt of the citation is awkwardly impotent. I can think of no other appropriate-yet polite and neutral phrase- to dismiss the officer after such an involuntary transaction has transpired that would serve to acknowledge receipt, yet not necessarily be thankful.
Miss Manners Response: Are you telling Miss Manners that you do not feel grateful to the kind officer for rescuing you from potentially dangerous behavior? If not, do you not see the advantage of two polite words that hint that you do? Miss Manners has never heard of a simple "thank you" being used in court as evidence of guilt.
This is what I have to say to Miss Manners... F-off. And as far as I'm concerned, the only thank you that should be given should come with a whole lot of sarcasm. They already gave you a ticket, what else are they going to do?
But at least these people are getting tickets from real officers... not I-Robot hiding on the side of the road. You should see what kind of thanks I give to them!!!
A little background if you don't know her. We are from Minnesota (think Sarah Palin, I mean... my mom doesn't hunt moose, she's not a hockey mom, neither my sister nor I were knocked up at 17 and as far as I know she has never talked about putting lipstick on a farm animal... so basically think the accent and maybe the down-home attitude), she is the friendliest woman ever, you know the kind that has a meaniful conversation with the person in the line behind her at the grocery store, and she is always involved... in everything!!!)
So first... The note that came with my letter today. It read:
Michelle-
This was in the Mpls Star Tribune (our newspaper in MN) and made me laugh. I hope you do the same. I just wanted you to know your mother isn't the only one to say thank you! Love ya, Mom
Before we get to the newspaper clipping enclosed... I must first give you the back story. One weekend when I was about 18-years-old, my mom and I had driven down to my grandma's house. This is about a 3 hour drive through the farmlands of southern Minnesota... enchanting... really!!! So at about 11pm on a Saturday night, we are drving home. I am driving, as we were taking turns, when all of a sudden red and blues in my rear-view mirror. I was pulled over by a kind officer of some hick town... who as soon as he saw I was from the "big city" on my license, was bound and determined to give me a ticket. But not just a speeding ticket, the biggest one he could give me. He proceeded to tell us, he had been following me for about 2 miles and at one point I was going 16 miles over the speed limit- I call B.S. (and which P.S., put me into a whole new level of the amount of money I was going to have to pay this small town for speeding. Ironic, isn't it??) Now before I go any further, I would like to point out that at this very moment (despite what you may think about my driving now), I had a clean driving record. No speeding tickets, I hadn't even been stopped, and photo radar wasn't even a blip in my world. So anyway, this kind officer writes me a speeding ticket for spending a weekend at my grandma's and driving home on a Saturday night with my mom (that'll teach me). If that weren't enough... my mom... from the passenger seat, begins thanking this officer, not once... but over and over again. While I was rolling my window up she was still shouting her thanks at this wonderful man of the law. As soon as I was sure he was out of earshot, I shot my mom one hell of a look. "Why are you thanking him?? He just wrote me a huge speeding ticket!!!" Her reply, "I don't know. He was nice!"
So fast forward to tonight... and the newspaper clipping in the letter from my mom. It should put it all into perspective!!!
It was one of those Dear so-and-so things. The reader writes in a question, the "expert" answers. This one happened to be to Miss Manners, who I can only assume is the word on what polite people should and should not do. It went like this:
Dear Miss Manners: Receiving a citation from a law enforcement officer, in person, is generally a very unpleasant surprise (for example, when being stopped for speeding). However, at the conclusion of such interaction, it seems dismissing the officer with a "thank you" after receipt of the citation is awkwardly impotent. I can think of no other appropriate-yet polite and neutral phrase- to dismiss the officer after such an involuntary transaction has transpired that would serve to acknowledge receipt, yet not necessarily be thankful.
Miss Manners Response: Are you telling Miss Manners that you do not feel grateful to the kind officer for rescuing you from potentially dangerous behavior? If not, do you not see the advantage of two polite words that hint that you do? Miss Manners has never heard of a simple "thank you" being used in court as evidence of guilt.
This is what I have to say to Miss Manners... F-off. And as far as I'm concerned, the only thank you that should be given should come with a whole lot of sarcasm. They already gave you a ticket, what else are they going to do?
But at least these people are getting tickets from real officers... not I-Robot hiding on the side of the road. You should see what kind of thanks I give to them!!!
The Devil... Part Dos
The devil strikes again...
This is a very serious warning for all you valley drivers. Pay close attention or else you may end get caught up in the viscious trap of the devil just like I did. (For those of you new to my blog, you should really go back and read The Devil... Part Uno. It was in August... way back in the day. J knows how to link to things like that, but we all know I'm not that computer savvy, so don't be f-ing lazy... click on August... and then The Devil... and then we'll all be up to speed.) Speed... interesting... because as we all know, that is all the devil cares about these days. So here's my new photo radar run-in. I'm on my way to work today because I got called in to produce the 9. Good times already, right? I'm on the I-10, right before you get to the ramp to get on the 51. I, of course, having already made this trip like 300 times since they started installing these devil followers, also known as photo radar cameras, know that there is a fixed camera coming up on my right hand side. I also know that it tries to trap you because that is an area that goes from 65... to 55... with almost no warning. I laugh in the devils face... I'm too smart for you... I know exactly what's coming... and then I see a flash. WTF?? I look left... Those bastards have put a mobile photo radar van on the left hand side of the road... literally 50 yards in front of the stationary photo radar unit. They have done it just to catch me. They are on to me and my sneaky ways. I know when they are coming and so I always slow down to just under where the camera snaps (See I also know how fast I can be going... you should know too. In a 65mph zone the camera snaps at 76. In a 55 mph zone the camera snaps at 65.) So they put the f-ing mobile van just before where I would have slowed down to avoid the photo radar ticket all together. (Let me just make one thing clear here... I am not one of those people who slams on their brakes the minute they see photo radar. In fact I hate those people, those people are a danger to the roads. You don't have to slow down to five miles under the speed limit when you pass the photo radar. They do not give out gold stars for going super slow. You only need to ease off the gas enough to make sure you are under the clicking speed. If anyone needs lessons, I'd be happy to take you out.) Anyway, my point to you all is this... it is obvious the devil is after me. Now I am doing my best to avoid his fiery photos, but you could be next. Save yourself!! I am warning you... this devil has no kryptonite.
This is a very serious warning for all you valley drivers. Pay close attention or else you may end get caught up in the viscious trap of the devil just like I did. (For those of you new to my blog, you should really go back and read The Devil... Part Uno. It was in August... way back in the day. J knows how to link to things like that, but we all know I'm not that computer savvy, so don't be f-ing lazy... click on August... and then The Devil... and then we'll all be up to speed.) Speed... interesting... because as we all know, that is all the devil cares about these days. So here's my new photo radar run-in. I'm on my way to work today because I got called in to produce the 9. Good times already, right? I'm on the I-10, right before you get to the ramp to get on the 51. I, of course, having already made this trip like 300 times since they started installing these devil followers, also known as photo radar cameras, know that there is a fixed camera coming up on my right hand side. I also know that it tries to trap you because that is an area that goes from 65... to 55... with almost no warning. I laugh in the devils face... I'm too smart for you... I know exactly what's coming... and then I see a flash. WTF?? I look left... Those bastards have put a mobile photo radar van on the left hand side of the road... literally 50 yards in front of the stationary photo radar unit. They have done it just to catch me. They are on to me and my sneaky ways. I know when they are coming and so I always slow down to just under where the camera snaps (See I also know how fast I can be going... you should know too. In a 65mph zone the camera snaps at 76. In a 55 mph zone the camera snaps at 65.) So they put the f-ing mobile van just before where I would have slowed down to avoid the photo radar ticket all together. (Let me just make one thing clear here... I am not one of those people who slams on their brakes the minute they see photo radar. In fact I hate those people, those people are a danger to the roads. You don't have to slow down to five miles under the speed limit when you pass the photo radar. They do not give out gold stars for going super slow. You only need to ease off the gas enough to make sure you are under the clicking speed. If anyone needs lessons, I'd be happy to take you out.) Anyway, my point to you all is this... it is obvious the devil is after me. Now I am doing my best to avoid his fiery photos, but you could be next. Save yourself!! I am warning you... this devil has no kryptonite.
Titties & Turkey
So tonight, I celebrated Thanksgiving. Yes I know it is 5 days early, but when you work in a business that sees no such thing as a holiday, you have to be creative. So a girl from work decided to set up this whole pot-luck Thanksgiving. At first, I hesitated about participating, in fact, I think she had to send me like 3 emails to get me to respond. Finally, I asked what I had to bring. She said a salad and utinsils. I was in. I mean I can do a salad. Really, I was just worried they would expect some real cooking out of me and hello?? We all know that does not happen. Moving on... I arrive for our pot-luck Thanksgiving to find a mish-mash of people from work (I mean, all the cool people, but quite an eccletic group). It's perfect! We all sit down to enjoy our home cooked (in about 8 different homes) meal. At first, there is a bit of silence, but then we find our groove. And I found that it wasn't that different than any other family Thanksgiving I had been to. We all went around and said what we were thankful for. We all pooked fun at each other. (Poor J got it so bad because she was wearing a see-through shirt, but then proceeded to tell everyone that she had "tried to cover the girls up". Of course, we couldn't let it go. I was wearing a low cut shirt, perhaps showing the girls off even more than J, but it was just the "I tried to cover them up" thing that sealed her fate. Needless to say, she was badgered enough that she changed her shirt, a move I consider surrendering and a stance I would never take, especially when engaged in a boob-war. But to each their own... right?) There were several hilarious moments... mostly started by inappropriate comments. At one point, I went to take the trash out and almost ate shit over one of J's three doggie gates... (P.S. She is like psycho dog mom, afraid at any moment her baby will escape. Tonight I asked her what she was going to do if she had kids. She said I don't know but you are supposed to watch them at all times!! Man she cracks me up.) I was laughing hysterically. I had only one glass of wine, but it totally brought me back to my fall down the stairs that started the demise of my life. I shouldn't laugh, but at this point what else are you going to do. Then... there was my covert operation with Ace to get my folding chairs out the front door... the front door that has not one, but two signs that says you can't use it... again because of J's fear that her dog will make a run for it. And finally... there was the moment with R by the fire pit. I was showing her all the new pictures of the twins... and without thinking, I flipped to the next picture, which happened to be a topless picture of me, that I had sent to my boyfriend. All I could say was "Uh, oh!!" We laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Tonight I realized when you become our age, and live as far away from family as many of us do, you need to rely on the people around you, especially during the holidays. Tonight I realized Thanksgiving can be just as dysfunctional, even if there is no family involved. Tonight I realized it's not so much about the food (although it was fantastic)... but more about the company... the conversation... the laughs.
It's a celebration I hope we make a tradition... and therefore, one that needs a name. My vote was Titties & Turkey. But of course, it's up for discussion... if you have something better... throw it out there. And if I missed any of the hilarious moments (there were so many), this is your time to share. Bottom line thanks for the food...the fun... and the friendship.
Tonight I realized when you become our age, and live as far away from family as many of us do, you need to rely on the people around you, especially during the holidays. Tonight I realized Thanksgiving can be just as dysfunctional, even if there is no family involved. Tonight I realized it's not so much about the food (although it was fantastic)... but more about the company... the conversation... the laughs.
It's a celebration I hope we make a tradition... and therefore, one that needs a name. My vote was Titties & Turkey. But of course, it's up for discussion... if you have something better... throw it out there. And if I missed any of the hilarious moments (there were so many), this is your time to share. Bottom line thanks for the food...the fun... and the friendship.
Update: Crazy Insomniac
It was just as I had anticipated... I was up until sometime after 7am. My alarm went off at 10am because even though it is Saturday, I had things to do. I slept through it until about 1pm, when I started to hear it but was still so tired I just choose to ignore it for the next hour or so until I dragged myself out of bed... to start my day at 2:30pm. There is nothing healthy or normal about this crazy sleeping pattern of mine. So you would think I would be all wide awake, but as I was driving home from my friend's house at 12:30am... I was practically falling asleep again. WTF?? I have issues... deep and serious sleep issues. They should study me... I wonder how I find a sleep specialist??
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Crazy Insomniac
It's official... I am an insomniac. So I figured what better time to discuss the issue, then when I'm right in the middle of it. (Hello, 5:15am!!) But of course, I couldn't be your run-of-the-mill insomniac, you know the kind that just can't sleep, gets a prescription for sleeping pills and calls it a night (pun totally intended!). No, instead I have developed my own form of insomnia, that naturally is crazier that having insomnia in the first place. It goes a little something like this...
Let's just use today as an example:
I am driving home from work at 7:30pm... so tired at times I feel my eyes closing. I literally may be a danger on the road at this point, but somehow I safely make it home. I manage to stay awake long enough to feed my dogs and myself, before falling asleep on the couch. This is not a "nap", but a deep sleep. At 11:00pm I am apparently (although I dont' really remember) awoken by a phone call from my boyfriend. I answer... allegedly talking to him for about four minutes when he says I fall silent. After screaming my name into the phone a few times, he hangs up. A couple minutes later, he calls back. Again I answer and he asks me if I just fell asleep while I was on the phone with him... my response (groggily) "I don't know, did I?" At this point he decides I am in no condition to talk to and tells me he'll call me later. I fall immediately back into my deep sleep (that is if I ever emerged from it in the first place). I wake up at 2:15am, vaguely remembering that I may have had a phone conversation with someone. I frantically look for my cell phone and find it underneath me in the couch. I look at the call history to see that only my boyfriend called (thank god, I mean I don't want to be sleep-talking to anyone important- no offense baby.. Love you!!) I call him back and ask him if we talked... he tells me the whole story... I laugh... out loud... hard. In fact, I am laughing now. You must admit, it is funny. (In a "is there any part of my life that is not crazy" kind of way) Anyway, we talk for about 45 minutes when we decide we are both tired and need to go to bed. So I gather my shit (meaning my glass of water and my dogs) and head upstairs to bed. I put my pjs on, brush my teeth, wash my face and get into bed, ready to pick right up on my deep sleep... I mean I am still tired. But no. Now that is out of the question. So I turn on the tv, maybe watching that will relax me into sleep... 1 hour later, no such luck. I read a chapter of my book... still wide awake. I masterbate (maybe I just have some pent up needs?!!) Nope still can't sleep... and so here I am. Now this is not the first night that this has happened. In fact, it's like the third night this week, so let me tell you how this story is going to end. I will end up falling asleep... into a really deep sleep... anywhere between 1 and 2 hours before I need to get up. At this point, I will sleep through my alarm (which is so loud, it probably wakes the neighbors- just ask my boyfriend.. did I mention I love you?!!) I will wake up, in a panic, when I am supposed to be somewhere (I swear it's like a gift. Wednesday morning I had a doctors appointment at 8am... that's when I woke up. I'm supposed to be at work at 9am, that's when I woke up this morning) So then my day starts with panic... and I work through it with some sort of very fucked up sleep. If at this point you are thinking I should just get a sleeping pill, listen know-it-all, I've thought of that, but that seems a little dangerous, doesn't it?, considering when I do fall asleep, I am already dead to the world (but apparently sometimes carrying on conversations) Let's add a medication that is supposed to make me sleep to the mix and I'm a little concerned about the outcomes. So I'm kind just left with this fucked up insomnia huh? What do you do at 5:15 in the morning when you have tried everything, but can't fall asleep? Should I just start the coffee and get my day going? But the problem is, I am still tired. I want to sleep, but I can't. It's kinda like the story of my life... I just can't have the things I want. I want to get a raise so I can afford to live, but the economy blows. I want my boyfriend to live in the same state as me, but he has his own responsibilities. I want my special (it's a work thing, just means more time and stress for me) to be done so I don't have to worry about it anymore. I want, I want, I want. I kinda sound like that spoiled brat from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory... "I want a golden egg daddy and I want it now!!!" Wow... I am so off topic now it's not even funny... see this is exactly what is going on in my head. And if you are crazy... apparently so is your insomnia. I guess I'm off to try some warm milk or something fucked up like that. Hope you are sleeping well... really I do!!!!!
Let's just use today as an example:
I am driving home from work at 7:30pm... so tired at times I feel my eyes closing. I literally may be a danger on the road at this point, but somehow I safely make it home. I manage to stay awake long enough to feed my dogs and myself, before falling asleep on the couch. This is not a "nap", but a deep sleep. At 11:00pm I am apparently (although I dont' really remember) awoken by a phone call from my boyfriend. I answer... allegedly talking to him for about four minutes when he says I fall silent. After screaming my name into the phone a few times, he hangs up. A couple minutes later, he calls back. Again I answer and he asks me if I just fell asleep while I was on the phone with him... my response (groggily) "I don't know, did I?" At this point he decides I am in no condition to talk to and tells me he'll call me later. I fall immediately back into my deep sleep (that is if I ever emerged from it in the first place). I wake up at 2:15am, vaguely remembering that I may have had a phone conversation with someone. I frantically look for my cell phone and find it underneath me in the couch. I look at the call history to see that only my boyfriend called (thank god, I mean I don't want to be sleep-talking to anyone important- no offense baby.. Love you!!) I call him back and ask him if we talked... he tells me the whole story... I laugh... out loud... hard. In fact, I am laughing now. You must admit, it is funny. (In a "is there any part of my life that is not crazy" kind of way) Anyway, we talk for about 45 minutes when we decide we are both tired and need to go to bed. So I gather my shit (meaning my glass of water and my dogs) and head upstairs to bed. I put my pjs on, brush my teeth, wash my face and get into bed, ready to pick right up on my deep sleep... I mean I am still tired. But no. Now that is out of the question. So I turn on the tv, maybe watching that will relax me into sleep... 1 hour later, no such luck. I read a chapter of my book... still wide awake. I masterbate (maybe I just have some pent up needs?!!) Nope still can't sleep... and so here I am. Now this is not the first night that this has happened. In fact, it's like the third night this week, so let me tell you how this story is going to end. I will end up falling asleep... into a really deep sleep... anywhere between 1 and 2 hours before I need to get up. At this point, I will sleep through my alarm (which is so loud, it probably wakes the neighbors- just ask my boyfriend.. did I mention I love you?!!) I will wake up, in a panic, when I am supposed to be somewhere (I swear it's like a gift. Wednesday morning I had a doctors appointment at 8am... that's when I woke up. I'm supposed to be at work at 9am, that's when I woke up this morning) So then my day starts with panic... and I work through it with some sort of very fucked up sleep. If at this point you are thinking I should just get a sleeping pill, listen know-it-all, I've thought of that, but that seems a little dangerous, doesn't it?, considering when I do fall asleep, I am already dead to the world (but apparently sometimes carrying on conversations) Let's add a medication that is supposed to make me sleep to the mix and I'm a little concerned about the outcomes. So I'm kind just left with this fucked up insomnia huh? What do you do at 5:15 in the morning when you have tried everything, but can't fall asleep? Should I just start the coffee and get my day going? But the problem is, I am still tired. I want to sleep, but I can't. It's kinda like the story of my life... I just can't have the things I want. I want to get a raise so I can afford to live, but the economy blows. I want my boyfriend to live in the same state as me, but he has his own responsibilities. I want my special (it's a work thing, just means more time and stress for me) to be done so I don't have to worry about it anymore. I want, I want, I want. I kinda sound like that spoiled brat from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory... "I want a golden egg daddy and I want it now!!!" Wow... I am so off topic now it's not even funny... see this is exactly what is going on in my head. And if you are crazy... apparently so is your insomnia. I guess I'm off to try some warm milk or something fucked up like that. Hope you are sleeping well... really I do!!!!!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
"F" the economy
Is it just me, or is anyone else already feeling the stress of the holidays? Not because the decorations are already starting to emerge (hello, people can we at least get through Thanksgiving??), but more because this year I have no idea how the hell I am going to pull Christmas off. I can barely pull my bills off... I am in debt for the first time in my life (and just getting deeper p.s.)... I've just been told by work not to expect anything in the line of a raise this year (but I should consider myself very lucky to still have a job)... and one of my credit cards just got cancelled (for no reason other than the credit card industry is so bad that the entire company went under!!!) Did I mention I decided to buy a house and have a mortgage, make a 25 mile drive to and from work, get a blood clot that landed me in the hospital for 6 days... and has me paying a ridiculous amount of medical bills (think in the thousands) and then I fell in love long distance!!! Seriously, I wouldn't give him up for the world, but hello? Long distance love is pricey!! So now he's paying for my next trip to visit. You may be saying "how sweet" or "isn't she lucky" (and I am), but that is just not in my DNA to allow someone to pay for me, to have to rely on someone else to be able to do what I want. So back to the issue at hand. I have been trying to come up with creative, thoughtful, cheap gifts for my family since love is just about all I can afford these days. There are several problems with this... first, I am not artistic so making something is really scary... and second, giving a gift that someone is going to not just like, but love, something that shows them that I really know who they are and what they like, has always been really important to me. Now try to do that on a budget?! Bottom line... like everything else in my life, I'll make it happen or fake it trying. But... I just have to say this... trying to make "dollars and sense" when "money really matters" is harder than I had hoped. So in the meantime, I'll add it to my list of "things to worry about". All I have to say is "F" the economy!!!
Saturday, November 15, 2008
The brothel...
This story is old, but totally worth telling! It came up the other day, and I decided I must share.
My friend "J" used to live in Tucson and while she was there, she became totally obsessed with this band (and it's lead singer). So, every once in awile they come to the Valley to play a show and everytime they do, she drags me to them with her... promising this is the time she is actually going to talk to the singer!!! (In truth, she only drug me to the first show. I really like the band now and enjoy going to the shows) Anyway, so one day she told me they were playing a show in Tempe on Saturday night and asked me if I wanted to go. I of course said yes and asked where (I lived and drank in Tempe for 9 years, I figure there are not too many bars I haven't been too, although I may not remember them all!!!) She told me the name of the bar and surprisingly I had never heard of it. Then she told me where it was and I couldn't even picture where a bar would be there. But whatever, we were in. So we decide to meet at this bar. First of all, it's in the middle of a warehouse district. I mean, you drive down a road, lined with warehouse businesses... when all of a sudden this two story building with music blaring and white lights in the trees appears. We figured this must be it... and parked. As we walked up to the building, I got a very wierd feeling... (Note to all: listen to your gut... it is always right!) But we continued on, up the wooden stairs to the second story patio area where we entered another world. There was this large outdoor bar, made of concrete. On top of it were several scantily clad (think stripper-like) women, dancing, for money, which was being cleverly placed in their g-strings. J and I made our way through the patio, thinking that was obviously not where we belonged. We went through a heavy black door... into what looked kind of like a house.. only if your house was dark and creepy. There was a tiny bar with a couple of stools and a little area where some hard rock band was playing. I mean four feet away from me the lead singer was screaming his song... and thrashing his head around so his sweat was actually hitting me. I wanted to bail but instead we sat down at the small bar and ordered drinks. (Well, J ordered a drink, unfortunately at this point in my life I couldn't drink which just made this all the more painful) As we looked around at the eccletic group of people and wondered where the hell were we, we saw a spiral staircase. A staircase that apparently took us downstairs to the area where our band was going to play. Soon I realized that was the only way up and down. And I watched time and time again, as someone would have to back up to let someone up the one-person-at-a-time metal staircase. As J was yelling over the horrible rock band to have some sort of conversation, I realized where we were... The Hotel California... "You can check out, but you can't ever leave." That's when J told me we needed to go outside so she could smoke. We went out to the patio and took a spot in the corner. We were standing there talking, J with her back to the crowd. I felt like almost every guy out there was looking at us (did I mention 90% of the people out there were men... duh? That's where the nearly-naked chicks dancing on the bar were) I blew it off, believing they were looking beyond us, to the dancing ladies. After J's smoke, we went back inside and she asked if I was ready to go downstairs. At this point I freaked out. The Hotel California got the best of me. I actually started to have a panic attack and had to take a Xanax to get through it. After a couple minutes of coaxing, J convinced me it was time to tackle the stairs. So after careful timing... we went down. There we found yet another bar... a big room that apparently our band would play in.. a hall leading to a living room-like area that no one was in... another hall with a bathroom and several closed doors... but that wasn't the wierd part. First, there was this door with a keypad on it. People kept going in and out, first entering some code before the door would unlock and allow them in. Then there was an area with a velvet rope and a bodyguard in a suit. Young women and some guys were going in and out... only after first meeting the bouncer's approval. We fell into a conversation with a couple of people who happened to be waiting for the same band we were, which is how we learned what was behind the velvet rope. Apparently the guy had asked the bodyguard who told him there was a hot tub back there... and that "what happens back there, stays back there" WTF... where the hell were we? At this point, J tells me she needs another smoke, which requires another treck up the staircase from hell... and into stripper city. I'm ready to kill her, but I don't dare be left alone in this crazy place... so I go. As I'm up there this time, I see two of the "ladies" I had seen exit the velvet room, now "working the crowd" on the patio, going from group of guys, to group of guys. I start to wonder if they aren't prostitutes... or something like that. Then I realize guys really are staring at J and I, probably wondering if we are in the same "line of work". J finishes her smoke and we go back down into the depths of hell. Now, finally it is time for our band to play. We go into the room with about 10 other people. (Apparently our music choice isn't really popular with the hookers... good to know) The band starts to play, sounding as good as they always do. During their show, some people wander in. A way too young blonde, with an old guy. Another guy who wanders up to them, pulls the girl away for a minute or two... before sending her back to grandpa (can you say "pimp") The show is great, but short and as soon as it is over, we are ready to try to make our escape from the Hotel California. We leave in one piece, but I don't think we will ever be the same. J and I both agree that it is an experience that we could try to explain, but if you were not there, you will just never understand. (I hope my description has given you some mental picture) Later, my google-stalking friend finds several websites which say said bar is a cover for a brothel and that they film pornos there. And it all starts to make sense. Will I ever go back?? Hell no. But as they say, you never forget your first trip to a whore-house, right??
My friend "J" used to live in Tucson and while she was there, she became totally obsessed with this band (and it's lead singer). So, every once in awile they come to the Valley to play a show and everytime they do, she drags me to them with her... promising this is the time she is actually going to talk to the singer!!! (In truth, she only drug me to the first show. I really like the band now and enjoy going to the shows) Anyway, so one day she told me they were playing a show in Tempe on Saturday night and asked me if I wanted to go. I of course said yes and asked where (I lived and drank in Tempe for 9 years, I figure there are not too many bars I haven't been too, although I may not remember them all!!!) She told me the name of the bar and surprisingly I had never heard of it. Then she told me where it was and I couldn't even picture where a bar would be there. But whatever, we were in. So we decide to meet at this bar. First of all, it's in the middle of a warehouse district. I mean, you drive down a road, lined with warehouse businesses... when all of a sudden this two story building with music blaring and white lights in the trees appears. We figured this must be it... and parked. As we walked up to the building, I got a very wierd feeling... (Note to all: listen to your gut... it is always right!) But we continued on, up the wooden stairs to the second story patio area where we entered another world. There was this large outdoor bar, made of concrete. On top of it were several scantily clad (think stripper-like) women, dancing, for money, which was being cleverly placed in their g-strings. J and I made our way through the patio, thinking that was obviously not where we belonged. We went through a heavy black door... into what looked kind of like a house.. only if your house was dark and creepy. There was a tiny bar with a couple of stools and a little area where some hard rock band was playing. I mean four feet away from me the lead singer was screaming his song... and thrashing his head around so his sweat was actually hitting me. I wanted to bail but instead we sat down at the small bar and ordered drinks. (Well, J ordered a drink, unfortunately at this point in my life I couldn't drink which just made this all the more painful) As we looked around at the eccletic group of people and wondered where the hell were we, we saw a spiral staircase. A staircase that apparently took us downstairs to the area where our band was going to play. Soon I realized that was the only way up and down. And I watched time and time again, as someone would have to back up to let someone up the one-person-at-a-time metal staircase. As J was yelling over the horrible rock band to have some sort of conversation, I realized where we were... The Hotel California... "You can check out, but you can't ever leave." That's when J told me we needed to go outside so she could smoke. We went out to the patio and took a spot in the corner. We were standing there talking, J with her back to the crowd. I felt like almost every guy out there was looking at us (did I mention 90% of the people out there were men... duh? That's where the nearly-naked chicks dancing on the bar were) I blew it off, believing they were looking beyond us, to the dancing ladies. After J's smoke, we went back inside and she asked if I was ready to go downstairs. At this point I freaked out. The Hotel California got the best of me. I actually started to have a panic attack and had to take a Xanax to get through it. After a couple minutes of coaxing, J convinced me it was time to tackle the stairs. So after careful timing... we went down. There we found yet another bar... a big room that apparently our band would play in.. a hall leading to a living room-like area that no one was in... another hall with a bathroom and several closed doors... but that wasn't the wierd part. First, there was this door with a keypad on it. People kept going in and out, first entering some code before the door would unlock and allow them in. Then there was an area with a velvet rope and a bodyguard in a suit. Young women and some guys were going in and out... only after first meeting the bouncer's approval. We fell into a conversation with a couple of people who happened to be waiting for the same band we were, which is how we learned what was behind the velvet rope. Apparently the guy had asked the bodyguard who told him there was a hot tub back there... and that "what happens back there, stays back there" WTF... where the hell were we? At this point, J tells me she needs another smoke, which requires another treck up the staircase from hell... and into stripper city. I'm ready to kill her, but I don't dare be left alone in this crazy place... so I go. As I'm up there this time, I see two of the "ladies" I had seen exit the velvet room, now "working the crowd" on the patio, going from group of guys, to group of guys. I start to wonder if they aren't prostitutes... or something like that. Then I realize guys really are staring at J and I, probably wondering if we are in the same "line of work". J finishes her smoke and we go back down into the depths of hell. Now, finally it is time for our band to play. We go into the room with about 10 other people. (Apparently our music choice isn't really popular with the hookers... good to know) The band starts to play, sounding as good as they always do. During their show, some people wander in. A way too young blonde, with an old guy. Another guy who wanders up to them, pulls the girl away for a minute or two... before sending her back to grandpa (can you say "pimp") The show is great, but short and as soon as it is over, we are ready to try to make our escape from the Hotel California. We leave in one piece, but I don't think we will ever be the same. J and I both agree that it is an experience that we could try to explain, but if you were not there, you will just never understand. (I hope my description has given you some mental picture) Later, my google-stalking friend finds several websites which say said bar is a cover for a brothel and that they film pornos there. And it all starts to make sense. Will I ever go back?? Hell no. But as they say, you never forget your first trip to a whore-house, right??
Can someone say "awkward"?????
So the other night, "J" and I are out to dinner for a friend's birthday. Along for the ride are three of her other friends, you know from a different circle. 2 of them girls, 1 boy. Both girls in serious relationships (1 married, 1 engaged). All of them considerably older than J and I (I would say at least 5 years). (P.S. This is all background information for you, which will become very important when I get to the punch line. When is that happening? Chill out.. I'm getting there)
So.. we're having this lovely dinner.. talking about all sorts of things: getting drunk, relationships, etc. At one point, J and I (who are on one end of the table) are having our own little discussion when suddenly a few words from the other conversation grab our attention. It went a little something like this.
Girl #1-"Abnormal paps... yea. That was how we could always tell which of our friends had been sleeping around."
Girl #2- "Yea, that was always a sure sign of the whores."
Boy- "You know, most of the time those are caused by HPV, the sexually transmitted disease."
At this point, I'm not even sure where the conversation went at that end of the table, but I know how it went on my end... chirp, chirp.
I refused to look up, instead solely focusing my attention on my wine, examining it as I swirled it in my glass, wishing I could take a big pull off the bottle.
All the while, I can feel the tension from J.
You see, both of us have had those "abnormal paps". And both of us of had that lovely conversation with our gynos where we learned we had HPV. So, basically both of us are "those whores". I couldn't look at J for fear of giving away our dirty little secret. (Pun totally intended)
I have several things to say about this...
First, since when has this become dinner conversation? I must admit, I was caught totally off guard. I never thought I would have to worry about such a thing coming up at a birthday dinner.
Second, how the hell does the boy at the table know such things about abnormal paps??
And lastly, there is nothing wrong with being a whore!!
I felt a little defensive and part of me wanted to shout out..."Like 90% of the sexually active population has HPV. One of you probably has it and doesn't even know it!!" But the more sane part of me just wanted to hide. Should we feel ashamed we have HPV? I've known I've had it for years now, and so I have come to terms with it, and the whore-ish-ness that gave it to me. I actually look at it like this, for all the guys I have slept with, and all the times I was a whore... I feel pretty damn lucky to just have HPV, an STD that increases your risk of cervical cancer but that's about it. I just have to be dilligent about my yearly check-ups, which I am.
I hope that HPV is not like the new "in" dinner party conversation, but if having it means I was a whore... the honest answer is "yes-sometimes I was". Should I feel bad, maybe. But instead I just kinda feel like I bet I have a lot better stories than you do.
So.. we're having this lovely dinner.. talking about all sorts of things: getting drunk, relationships, etc. At one point, J and I (who are on one end of the table) are having our own little discussion when suddenly a few words from the other conversation grab our attention. It went a little something like this.
Girl #1-"Abnormal paps... yea. That was how we could always tell which of our friends had been sleeping around."
Girl #2- "Yea, that was always a sure sign of the whores."
Boy- "You know, most of the time those are caused by HPV, the sexually transmitted disease."
At this point, I'm not even sure where the conversation went at that end of the table, but I know how it went on my end... chirp, chirp.
I refused to look up, instead solely focusing my attention on my wine, examining it as I swirled it in my glass, wishing I could take a big pull off the bottle.
All the while, I can feel the tension from J.
You see, both of us have had those "abnormal paps". And both of us of had that lovely conversation with our gynos where we learned we had HPV. So, basically both of us are "those whores". I couldn't look at J for fear of giving away our dirty little secret. (Pun totally intended)
I have several things to say about this...
First, since when has this become dinner conversation? I must admit, I was caught totally off guard. I never thought I would have to worry about such a thing coming up at a birthday dinner.
Second, how the hell does the boy at the table know such things about abnormal paps??
And lastly, there is nothing wrong with being a whore!!
I felt a little defensive and part of me wanted to shout out..."Like 90% of the sexually active population has HPV. One of you probably has it and doesn't even know it!!" But the more sane part of me just wanted to hide. Should we feel ashamed we have HPV? I've known I've had it for years now, and so I have come to terms with it, and the whore-ish-ness that gave it to me. I actually look at it like this, for all the guys I have slept with, and all the times I was a whore... I feel pretty damn lucky to just have HPV, an STD that increases your risk of cervical cancer but that's about it. I just have to be dilligent about my yearly check-ups, which I am.
I hope that HPV is not like the new "in" dinner party conversation, but if having it means I was a whore... the honest answer is "yes-sometimes I was". Should I feel bad, maybe. But instead I just kinda feel like I bet I have a lot better stories than you do.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Great Heart-break
Heart-break. I used to think it was the most horrible thing ever. Something no one should have to, or want to go through. I have a new outlook now. Because now, you see, I believe there are two kinds of heart-break. The kind you get when you just found out that your asshole husband has been cheating on you with women all over the country, even using the same line he used to make you fall in love with him, on another chick. And then, kind of heart-break I am experiencing. My bleeding heart is a self-imposed pain... and it is actually good. Stay with me. You see, I was lucky enough to find the love of my life. Not just someone I love, someone that gives me butterflies, makes me laugh when it doesn't seem possible, hugs me in just the right way, knows what I am thinking even before I do, is always looking out for me, makes me feel like I am THE most important and beautiful woman in the world. The kind of love I think just about everyone is looking for, but few find. I consider myself lucky, everyday I thank (insert your religious holy one) for giving him to me. But as we all know, nothing is perfect. Our obstacle happens to be an ocean... a big fucking shark infested ocean. Two seperate lives, two sets of friends, two sets of responsibilities, two different careers we have both worked extremely hard for. After 4 months and 1 week (but who's counting) we were reunited... and damn did it feel so good. He spent the past three weeks here with me. I was a little worried about how it was all going to work out, would our perfect relationship over the phone, be perfect in person? ((See my previous blog: Minutes)) But it was, he fit perfectly into my world, my arms, my heart. And all it did was to make me fall more in love with him. Something I actually thought was not possible. We had three weeks of bliss... a trip to Sedona, a pu-pu party, a Suns game, a Halloween party, numerous days spent snuggling in bed, walks with the dogs, dinners with friends and my mom. It was perfect... I have no other word than perfect. And then... then the dreaded day came when he had to leave. It was like D-day. And 24 hours before, my heart started breaking. In that final day I think I slept for 2 hours and cried for 8. Even now I am crying. Being away from him just breaks my heart... in a way I could never explain to you. I feel silly actually. For my entire life, I have prided myself on being someone who could do anything, be anything, handle whatever was thrown my way... and I never needed help. I still don't need help... but after these three weeks, I realize I want it. I don't want to go to the grocery store alone, because doing it with him was so much more fun. I don't want to go to bed with no one to hold me. I don't want to walk the dogs alone, with no one to laugh with at their silly moves to get ahead of each other. I don't want to shower alone, and have to get my own towel off the rack. And right now, I don't want to have to be wiping my own tears. I can do it... but I don't want to. And hence... the heart-break.. all associated with my long distance love. This is what I have to deal with for the love of my life. And in my opinion, our relationship is way deeper than just being "in love". That is why I have to make it through the pain. So, I am heart-broken... heart-broken because I am facing yet another countdown (8 weeks and 4 days) until I can feel the love of my life again. But this is a heart-break I would never give up. I could never wish this heart-break away. This pain, pain so bad it makes me physically keel over, feel like I have to throw up and makes me want to rip my heart out. This pain is all part of a great heart-break. A heart-break I can only hope will end with me and my love... together forever.
Too Available
Dating downfalls... I just read this great blog by my good friend "J" all about her problem when it comes to dating... her attraction to unavailable men. She's totally right on about everything she said... and don't worry, I will get back to her. But first, it got me thinking about me. And I think that I have always been too available. I always totally put myself out there, holding nothing back, expecting the best. I am the stereotypical dating optimist. But I hide it pretty well. For the majority of my dating career (Yes, it is a career. It is hard work... and dammit we should get paid for what we put up with on some dates!) I pretended that it didn't really matter... if he called, if we went out again, if it was yet another one-night stand. I pretended like I was in control, when in reality, I was always hoping that this guy would be different, this guy would turn into the one. This would be that one story... you know that one that every girl tells about her friend who met her husband in a bar, on a one-night stand and now they are happily married. My mind calls bullshit, but my heart was always secretly hoping it could be true. I think that's why I never held back. I never wanted to miss the one, I was always afraid if I didn't take this opportunity... that I may never find my true love. It's a theory that may make you vomit, in fact I'm a little disgusted at myself... but it has just always been the way I have worked. So consequently, there were quite a few... more times than I can count... that I got hurt, hoping this guy was different, this guy would call, this guy would stick around, this guy would be the one. Actually, that's why I think I don't really know exactly how many guys I have slept with. After they burned me, I burned them out of my brain. It was easier that way. Especially when your game is to pretend like you don't care. You can't let anyone see that along the way, you may be hurting. So, yes. I think "J" is totally right. We do all have our emotional, dating drawbacks. The things that sometimes hold us back. Do I think they will prevent us from finding our "true loves"? Hell fucking no. But I do think, that as friends, it is our job to call our friends out... I am always pushing "J" to just give it a chance. And I have had many friends along the line that have had to tell me to "give it up" or realize that he was "just not ever going to be worth it". Bottom line, we all have obstacles to overcome and as we all know... every date is an experience. Hell, the worst thing that could happen is they end up here... right???
What? You missed me??
No one panic!! Nothing horrible has happened, at least nothing out of the ordinary for my drama-filled world (Yes! I got to use a hyphen. Incorrectly? Perhaps, but you should know right now... I-have-a-hyphen-obsession. Get on board. It's super fun!!) Back to the point... for the past 3 weeks, I have been spending every moment I could tear myself away from work with the love of my life, the long distance love of my life. Don't worry... there are pleanty of blogs to come about where we go from here... just wanted you to know... I had not forgot about you... my loyal 2 readers. (That might be a stretch, my I'm kinda heart-broken right now... just give it to me... yes!! Another hyphen!)
Bottom line--stay tuned!
Bottom line--stay tuned!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Whore vs. Wife
About a year ago, my friend "J" and I were having drinks. We were discussing past relationships, flings, guys that are interested in us now, etc. when we realized that men, all men, whether they admit it or not classify women in two categories. The whores... and The wives. The whores are the girls they find attractive (especially at 2am) The women they are pretty sure will sleep with them on the first date. The chicks they view as adventurous, strong-willed and wild in bed. The girls every guy wants to bang. But that's where it ends. Then there are the wives. They are the sweet, kind, caretakers. The girls that would make you homemade chicken noodle soup if you were sick. The girls that you could picture having your children. The women you want to marry. It goes like this, a lot of times guys just aren't ready for the wives, so they go from whore to whore to whore. Fullfilling their dirty needs, waiting to grow up. And then when they do, they start looking for a wife... leaving the whores in the dust. And here in lies the problem. We whores are datable. We could make a good impression on the parents. We could be a great wife. But men have already catergorized us as only the whore, a role they can not seem to see past. For a long time, I thought all men believed in this. And that I was destined to be someone's whore for the rest of my life, never having the opportunity to be looked at as a wife. And then I met the love of my life. The man who appreciates the fact that I was wild, in and out of the bedroom. Who likes that I am strong-willed, don't cook, and won't ever drive a mini-van. I found a man who thinks there is absolutely no reason a whore can't be a wife. His favorite line is "A lady on the streets and a freak in the sheets". He accepts me for exactly who I am... wanting nothing more and nothing less. So the point: Men-Open your fucking eyes. Stop thinking there are only 2 categories of women. Start realizing that if you looked at that whore as more than a whore, you might actually get incredible sex for the rest of your life! And Women-Embrace who you are. If you are a whore, accept it, love it, flaunt it, never change it and never settle for a man who can't see it's the whores that make the best wives!!!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Minutes...
I've been waiting for this day for so long, it feels like forever. (Really it's been 4 months... 120 days... 2880 hours... 172800 minutes... you get the idea). Sometimes it seemed so far away I thought it would never come, sometimes I thought there was no way in hell I could make it, sometimes I dreamed it was already here. And now here it is, and I feel like a ball of emotions. I'm so excited, so excited to finally be with him, feel his arms around me, kiss him, hold him, smell him, talk to him face to face. So excited to show him my world, for him to really be a part of my life. But at the same time, I'm a little afraid. What if the real life relationship, isn't as good as the phone romance. What if he isn't as attracted to me, or I to him? What if the real sex isn't as good as the phone sex? What if he gets here and we have nothing more to say? What if the sparks that I felt falling in love with him over the phone, don't exist in the real world? What if I created this whole romance in my head, what if it really isn't there? I know it sounds silly, but in my head everything is perfect (at least as perfect as things can be). We are meant to be together. We figure out a way to make our two lives one... we are soul mates. This is the first real test of that theory. And I am so afraid it will just turn out to be wishful thinking. You know how sometimes things are so great, you are afraid to move, or change for fear it will all fall apart?? Like athletes who wear the same socks til they lose. We are just so good, so in love long distance, I don't want it to all come tumbling down. I know it's crazy and that if we really are soul mates, it will be even better in person. This will only make our love stronger, but I'm still kind of nervous. In three short hours I will know. I will know the minute I see him, the minute I touch him, the minute I kiss him. They are the minutes I have been counting down to for 4 long months. The minutes I can simply not wait for... the minutes that I hope last forever.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Addiction
Addictions... I was thinking about addiction and how I truly believe some people just have an addictive personality, are easier addicted than others. I think I definitely fit into that category. So I decided to make a list of my addictions. Why? I don't know, but it seemed like fun.
Cigarettes- Past
Chap Stick- Present
Cell Phone- Present
Caffeine- Present
Birth Control- Past, I didn't realize I was addicted to "the pill" until they took it away from me. But now that I am experiencing what I can only believe is withdrawl symptoms, I must admit yet another addiction.
Text Messaging- Present, Seriously I used to be one of the haters. But I must admit, now I love it. It's so quick, you don't have to have time for a conversation and you can do it on your own time.
This Blog- Present, It started because someone asked me what my dream job would be and I said a columnist, where I could write about whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want. And then I decided, why don't I just start a blog, my own online column. And since I can't drink right now, I have a lot of free time on my hands... so here we are!! Thanks for supporting my new addiction!!
Cigarettes- Past
Chap Stick- Present
Cell Phone- Present
Caffeine- Present
Birth Control- Past, I didn't realize I was addicted to "the pill" until they took it away from me. But now that I am experiencing what I can only believe is withdrawl symptoms, I must admit yet another addiction.
Text Messaging- Present, Seriously I used to be one of the haters. But I must admit, now I love it. It's so quick, you don't have to have time for a conversation and you can do it on your own time.
This Blog- Present, It started because someone asked me what my dream job would be and I said a columnist, where I could write about whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want. And then I decided, why don't I just start a blog, my own online column. And since I can't drink right now, I have a lot of free time on my hands... so here we are!! Thanks for supporting my new addiction!!
Lame!!!
So the other day I was writing this story about a 64-year-old man who was hit by a run-a-way car while sitting at a bus stop. Now he is in the hospital in critical condition. And I was thinking to myself "I feel so bad for that poor old man." Then later it hit me. My dad could be that poor old man. My dad is 64-years-old. And I was thinking, "I wonder if you would call a 64-year-old elderly??" I would never call my dad elderly. It just re-enforced what I guess I already knew. My work world... and my real world really can't co-exist. In order to deal with the bad, the ugly, the sad, the disturbing, the heartbreaking stories that we cover on a daily basis. In order to see what would make a "good" story. You have to be able to seperate yourself from the emotions. Otherwise we would spend all our time crying, cursing god, or trying to hang ourselves. Don't get me wrong. It's not like that is all we cover, but it is a good portion of it. And you sort of have to become a little desensitized, or risk losing your mind. But it really boils down to this... somewhere, someone loves every person in the stories we tell.
I just read through that... and that was really lame. So lame I totally thought about deleting it, but then I kinda felt like that was cheating. I thought it, believed it was blog worthy and wrote it. So, now I'll post it... but I will not be proud of it!!
I just read through that... and that was really lame. So lame I totally thought about deleting it, but then I kinda felt like that was cheating. I thought it, believed it was blog worthy and wrote it. So, now I'll post it... but I will not be proud of it!!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Paybacks are a BITCH!
If you are anything like me, over the years, you have come to realize what a pain in the ass you used to be. (Yes, I used the past tense and I meant past tense. If you think I'm bad now, you should have seen me then!) I spent the majority of my teenaged years pouting, picking fights and causing problems. Especially for my mom. We couldn't have a conversation without screaming, crying and slamming doors. I look back at now with embarressment at how much grief and how many headaches I must have caused her. But, I also realize now that there are so many things I must have just tucked away, so many rude comments, things I never should have said, that I decided were not worth remembering. Luckily my mom has not forgotten. And every once in a while, she whips one out... just to remind me of what a stubborn, selfish, bitch I was. This one... well... this one may take the cake. The conversation goes like this...
Mom: So I was out to dinner with my book club... you know my new book club I'm in. (Before we go any farther, let me point out I'm from Minnesota and yes my mom has the accent!! Read it again, be sure to stress the vowels!!!)
Me: Uh huh. (Truthfully I don't remember, but sometimes it's just better to play along!)
Mom: One of the ladies was talking about her son who is getting ready to go to college and he is so stressed out he has actually broken out in hives. Can you believe it? You remember how stressed out you were trying to make college decisions???
Me: Not really.
Mom: You don't? You were a real pain. I mean I remember at one point telling you that you didn't have to go to college right away. You could take a year off and figure things out. And do you remember what you said to me?
Me: No, Mom... (Say it again, really exasperated... because that's how I did it.--Sidebar: Maybe I am still a big bitch??!!!)
Mom: You don't?
Me: No, Mom... (Even more exasperated... the point of frustration. Is this going anywhere?--Sidebar: It's official... I am still a bitch. See this is why I do this, it's like looking in a mirror. How do you people put up with me?)
Mom: You said to me, "I'm going to college Mom. I'm going to make something out of myself, unlike you!"
Me: Silent (And if you know me, speechless is never an issue.)
Me: (Finally) I said that?
Mom: Yes, you said that.
Me: I totally don't remember that. (Stammering) I'm so sorry Mom. Wow! I was a really big bitch.
Mom: It's okay. It did get you moving though. You started making decisions. (She laughs, maybe after 27 years of dealing with me, that's all you can do... laugh???)
Mom: I told my friend she might want to try it though. It worked for you.
Unbelievable huh?? It's amazing how easy it is to forget the horrible things you do or say, especially to the people who love you the most. That my friends is why I have always said if I ever have children, no girls. I know I will get one just like me. And there is no way I would make it through a mini-me. At least one of us wouldn't make it through. It's also why I think my mom has always hoped I would have a girl... because we all know, as the saying goes... Paybacks are a Bitch. (Just like I used to be!)
Mom: So I was out to dinner with my book club... you know my new book club I'm in. (Before we go any farther, let me point out I'm from Minnesota and yes my mom has the accent!! Read it again, be sure to stress the vowels!!!)
Me: Uh huh. (Truthfully I don't remember, but sometimes it's just better to play along!)
Mom: One of the ladies was talking about her son who is getting ready to go to college and he is so stressed out he has actually broken out in hives. Can you believe it? You remember how stressed out you were trying to make college decisions???
Me: Not really.
Mom: You don't? You were a real pain. I mean I remember at one point telling you that you didn't have to go to college right away. You could take a year off and figure things out. And do you remember what you said to me?
Me: No, Mom... (Say it again, really exasperated... because that's how I did it.--Sidebar: Maybe I am still a big bitch??!!!)
Mom: You don't?
Me: No, Mom... (Even more exasperated... the point of frustration. Is this going anywhere?--Sidebar: It's official... I am still a bitch. See this is why I do this, it's like looking in a mirror. How do you people put up with me?)
Mom: You said to me, "I'm going to college Mom. I'm going to make something out of myself, unlike you!"
Me: Silent (And if you know me, speechless is never an issue.)
Me: (Finally) I said that?
Mom: Yes, you said that.
Me: I totally don't remember that. (Stammering) I'm so sorry Mom. Wow! I was a really big bitch.
Mom: It's okay. It did get you moving though. You started making decisions. (She laughs, maybe after 27 years of dealing with me, that's all you can do... laugh???)
Mom: I told my friend she might want to try it though. It worked for you.
Unbelievable huh?? It's amazing how easy it is to forget the horrible things you do or say, especially to the people who love you the most. That my friends is why I have always said if I ever have children, no girls. I know I will get one just like me. And there is no way I would make it through a mini-me. At least one of us wouldn't make it through. It's also why I think my mom has always hoped I would have a girl... because we all know, as the saying goes... Paybacks are a Bitch. (Just like I used to be!)
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Rockstar: The Real Story
So, the other night my partner in crime "J" and I went to our new favorite band's show. We purchased $18 tickets online... put our best rock gear on... and headed out to the show. After a small problem finding the venue (J is totally directionally challenged) and a mile walk in the freezing cold (I thought we lived in AZ! WTF?)... we arrived!! We picked up our tickets at the will call... got patted down by kids... and received our over 21 "you can drink" orange wrist band of honor. And then we entered what can only be described as middle school. Immediately we make our way through the underaged crowd... and beeline for the bar, where we are greeted by one other orange banded concert-goer who says "finally some more people who can drink". By now we have had time to scan the crowd and I am embarrassed by where I am. Literally in punk rock middle school. I'm not really sure if there is anyone over the age of 16, with the exception of the few parents milling around, making sure their rebellious teen doesn't get into any trouble. As our band takes the stage, we look to our right. J says, "Oh look, he looks about our age." "Yeah," I respond "and he just put in ear plugs!" The band starts to play and J looks at me, motioning to a space in the middle of the crowd. "You must be kidding... I don't want to be surrounded by them" (them, of course, being the unpredictable teens) "Oh come on! I wanna see." I give up... and we move in. Just as we get settled, J gets jabbed from behind by the wild elbow of an obnoxious pre-pubescent boy. I secretly laugh. I told her. But she stands her ground. The band is playing, our favorite. They are hypnotizing and for a minute I forget I am in hell. Then I blink... and it's over. "What?" J exclaims, "That was like 20 minutes." "Really?" I say. But she's right... we paid $18 for 20 minutes. If I were picking up a hooker, that would have been a great deal... but for my favorite band, nothing short of disappointing. "Let's get out of here!" J commands. I agree... I've never felt so old or uncool in my life. As we begin tromping through the parking lot... making our mile treck back to the cars... J yells "Hey!". I turn to see who she is yelling at... and it is none other than two members of our new favorite band. J wastes no time in telling them how we feel. "You guys sounded great, but 20 minutes??" "Yeah, sorry" the lead singer responds. "Its the tour. We only play a 20 minute set." I now chime in... "We came all the way out here to see you guys, we're a little disappointed." "Yeah," J echoes my frustration, "and we were the oldest ones in the room". Nothing like meeting two members of your favorite band and laying into them right away!! The conversation continues... names exchanged... bum a smoke... headed to Vegas... two days off... where are you going... what's cool around here... we have your cd's... were at the last Tempe show... blah... blah.. blah. I'll just fast forward to the good part. The lead singer... we'll call him "C"... says "I'm supposed to stay here for the rest of the show, but maybe I'll try and skip out and buy you guys a drink since you came all the way out for 20 minutes. Take my number!" This is the part where I am waiting for J to react... hello... I know you want to sleep with him... pull out your phone! Finally my psychic message gets to her and she takes his number. He tells her to call it right away, so he'll know her number. She does.. he leaves himself a funny message. "Hey C... Remember to call J and living lawless. You're an idiot." We part ways.. J can't wipe the smile off her face. We leave, call about 45 minutes later to tell C where we're at. Have dinner, a drink, J gets discouraged. I pump her up. We move on to another bar... another drink. J feels defeated. We leave. Just as I suspected... J gets a call from "C" at 11:30. "Hey, we're headed out of town. Just wanted to tell you how nice it was meeting you both. Next time we're in town, I for sure owe you those drinks. Until then, feel free to call anytime." Since then, there have been a couple texts and myspace messages. That's right... we're friends with a rockstar. And that's the real story. Jealous??? You should be!!!!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Unloveable
Uncomfortabe in your own skin, angry with your emotions, mad at your thoughts, frustrated you have no control. It's a place, a feeling, a situation I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. There is nothing worse than knowing how truly irrational, unstable and emotional you are being and still not being able to fix it. There is nothing worse than knowing there is nothing anyone can say or do at that moment to make you feel better. There is nothing worse than making the people who love and care about you the most, the people who only want the best for you, feel awful and not stop yourself from doing it. There is nothing like listening to a laundry list of reasons you rock... but only HEARING the part where you are hurting someone else. There is nothing like having someone tell you they love you, know they would never lie to your or hurt you, but still not being able to believe it. When words of encouragement and love are somehow distorted in your brain to be painful lies. It is the darkest, lonliest, scariest place. A place where I don't even want to be with me, so why should anyone else? A place where I can't stand my actions, my words, my thoughts. A place where I know what I should be saying, feeling and thinking, but can't will it enough to happen. A place where I should just shut my self up and not talk to anyone, so that I can't hurt the people I love, but I can't even make that good decision. A place where I feel hopeless and helpless. A place where the only way to describe how I am feeling is unloveable. I hate the way I am acting, being, feeling... the decisions I am making. And so therefore, all I can believe is that, is how other people are seeing me as well. And if they aren't, that's how they should be. I am not worthy of the love, affection, caring and comfort that the people around me are trying to give. So their words can not... and should not be true. Then when the people that love me, who are trying to comfort me, can not... their feeling get hurt. Thus confirming for me what I already know... I am unloveable. And the vicious cycle continues.
It really is like Alice In Wonderland, falling down the black hole. I can feel myself falling but there is no way to stop it. And once I am down there, there is no turning back. It is the darkest and most alone I have ever felt and the worst part is... that is what I truly believe I deserve. And then... as quickly as the darkness comes... I see a light... a light at the end of my tunnel and I know I will make it through. But in the darkness and despair, it is hard to remember the light. And even scarier to worry that this time... it will not come.
It really is like Alice In Wonderland, falling down the black hole. I can feel myself falling but there is no way to stop it. And once I am down there, there is no turning back. It is the darkest and most alone I have ever felt and the worst part is... that is what I truly believe I deserve. And then... as quickly as the darkness comes... I see a light... a light at the end of my tunnel and I know I will make it through. But in the darkness and despair, it is hard to remember the light. And even scarier to worry that this time... it will not come.
You don't know!!!!
So, I totally feel like a bitch saying this... perhaps that is why I am saying it here. I could never say it out loud to anyone, but I have thought it so many times in the last five months... that if I don't say it somewhere, I am going to explode.
With that said... here goes.
Don't tell me you know how I feel. Don't tell me you know what I'm going through. Don't tell me you understand. There is no possible way you do. You have never had to realize that you spent four weeks, as a walking time bomb, one that could go off, taking your life at any minute. You have never had smoking, drinking and your sanity taken away in one swift move. You've never been poked every four hours for 6 days. And you've never had to face the fact that decisions you made... nearly cost you your life. You've never been told you have a mutation... a defect that will put you at risk for the rest of your life... and could cause you pregnancy problems. You have never made it through all that... only to learn that was just the beginning. The battle was not nearly over. Now... perhaps in part to the near-death experience and the fact that everything in your life is completely out of control, you have anxiety. Daily anxiety attacks that many times you can not control. A lack of control that makes you feel even more crazy that you already are... thus causing more anxiety... and the vicious cycle begins once again. You have never been there... you don't know. You don't know what it is like to be prescribed medication that is supposed to "solve your emotional problems", get your hopes up that you may be closer to normal again, and then get no results. You don't know what it is like to be taken off birth control (which did I mention you can never have again)... and be crazy for half of every month. Wild mood swings... migrane headaches... killer cramps... crazy. You don't know what it is like to be told there is really nothing that can be done for you, short of removing all your reproductive organs. You have no idea what it is like to face the fact that it may be nearly impossible for you to get pregnant... but at the same time, if you don't want to get pregnant you will forever have to use a condom. You don't know what it is like to have to carry five pill bottles with you at all times "just in case". You don't spend your life "pretending"... like you are happy, better, satisfied. You just don't know. I realize you may know what it is like to face one of these issues... or maybe even a couple during your life, but not all of them... at once. The bottom line is this... I appreciate the love and support. I appreciate people trying to help. I appreciate people trying to understand. But you could not possibly know what I am going through. You may think that all I am doing here is whinning, that I don't realize that everyone goes through tough times, that there are people who are way worse off than me, that it could have been much worse. That is again where you are wrong. I get that I am lucky I am still alive. That's part of what makes this all the more difficult. Because I made it, but I am still suffering. Because I should be happy, but instead much of the time I am miserable. You may think you know... but you have no idea.
With that said... here goes.
Don't tell me you know how I feel. Don't tell me you know what I'm going through. Don't tell me you understand. There is no possible way you do. You have never had to realize that you spent four weeks, as a walking time bomb, one that could go off, taking your life at any minute. You have never had smoking, drinking and your sanity taken away in one swift move. You've never been poked every four hours for 6 days. And you've never had to face the fact that decisions you made... nearly cost you your life. You've never been told you have a mutation... a defect that will put you at risk for the rest of your life... and could cause you pregnancy problems. You have never made it through all that... only to learn that was just the beginning. The battle was not nearly over. Now... perhaps in part to the near-death experience and the fact that everything in your life is completely out of control, you have anxiety. Daily anxiety attacks that many times you can not control. A lack of control that makes you feel even more crazy that you already are... thus causing more anxiety... and the vicious cycle begins once again. You have never been there... you don't know. You don't know what it is like to be prescribed medication that is supposed to "solve your emotional problems", get your hopes up that you may be closer to normal again, and then get no results. You don't know what it is like to be taken off birth control (which did I mention you can never have again)... and be crazy for half of every month. Wild mood swings... migrane headaches... killer cramps... crazy. You don't know what it is like to be told there is really nothing that can be done for you, short of removing all your reproductive organs. You have no idea what it is like to face the fact that it may be nearly impossible for you to get pregnant... but at the same time, if you don't want to get pregnant you will forever have to use a condom. You don't know what it is like to have to carry five pill bottles with you at all times "just in case". You don't spend your life "pretending"... like you are happy, better, satisfied. You just don't know. I realize you may know what it is like to face one of these issues... or maybe even a couple during your life, but not all of them... at once. The bottom line is this... I appreciate the love and support. I appreciate people trying to help. I appreciate people trying to understand. But you could not possibly know what I am going through. You may think that all I am doing here is whinning, that I don't realize that everyone goes through tough times, that there are people who are way worse off than me, that it could have been much worse. That is again where you are wrong. I get that I am lucky I am still alive. That's part of what makes this all the more difficult. Because I made it, but I am still suffering. Because I should be happy, but instead much of the time I am miserable. You may think you know... but you have no idea.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Heavily Medicated
The laundry list of medications that is my life...
Coumadin- 10mg Monday thru Friday
7.5mg Saturday & Sunday
Lexapro "my pupulei pills"-20mg Everday
Xanax- 1 pill at the onset of an anxiety attack
Midrin- 1 or 2 pills at onset of migrane
Vicodin- 1 pill every 4-6 hours to treat cramps
I though I would share the long list of medications that make up my life with you. Why? I'm not really sure. Maybe I'm just looking for a little validation that a list this long is crazy... crazier than I apparently am. I mean I am 27 years old, fairly healthy, in pretty good shape. So WTF... should I really need this many drugs to deal with my daily life?? I have even resorted to using one of those daily pill containers. You know, the one where you put your pills in for each day so you don't forget to take your meds. The ones your grandparents probably have. Yea, I'm at that point. So you may be thinking all those pills are a little extreme... and that perhaps I am just a wuss, who can't deal with my life, or things not being easy. To you I would say "Fuck off!!" If you are not crazy, you could not, would not and will not ever understand. If you don't get PMS, you could not, would not and will not ever understand. If you have never had a blood clot, you could not, would not and will not understand. If you have not had cramps, you could not, would not and will not understand. If you don't fit into any of these categories, thank what ever holy figure you believe in. Here's the thing... I would really like to be able to live my life prescription free... but I would also like to be able to live my life without pain, anxiety or feeling totally out of control. Now if only someone would make a pill... one pill... for all that!!
Coumadin- 10mg Monday thru Friday
7.5mg Saturday & Sunday
Lexapro "my pupulei pills"-20mg Everday
Xanax- 1 pill at the onset of an anxiety attack
Midrin- 1 or 2 pills at onset of migrane
Vicodin- 1 pill every 4-6 hours to treat cramps
I though I would share the long list of medications that make up my life with you. Why? I'm not really sure. Maybe I'm just looking for a little validation that a list this long is crazy... crazier than I apparently am. I mean I am 27 years old, fairly healthy, in pretty good shape. So WTF... should I really need this many drugs to deal with my daily life?? I have even resorted to using one of those daily pill containers. You know, the one where you put your pills in for each day so you don't forget to take your meds. The ones your grandparents probably have. Yea, I'm at that point. So you may be thinking all those pills are a little extreme... and that perhaps I am just a wuss, who can't deal with my life, or things not being easy. To you I would say "Fuck off!!" If you are not crazy, you could not, would not and will not ever understand. If you don't get PMS, you could not, would not and will not ever understand. If you have never had a blood clot, you could not, would not and will not understand. If you have not had cramps, you could not, would not and will not understand. If you don't fit into any of these categories, thank what ever holy figure you believe in. Here's the thing... I would really like to be able to live my life prescription free... but I would also like to be able to live my life without pain, anxiety or feeling totally out of control. Now if only someone would make a pill... one pill... for all that!!
Let your crazy hang out!
I was reading this article and it was about the ten things you should never do on a first date. #2 on the list... don't talk about your psychiatrist... or any psychiatric drugs you may be on. So it got me thinking about the first time I hung out with my now boyfriend (and love of my life). I had a massive anxiety attack... one that required not one, but two xanax pills to control. And then I proceded to tell him all about how ever since I got out of the hospital, I have been kind of crazy, and they put me on pills in hopes of taming my insanity, but obviously they hadn't exactly started working yet. All of that... and he didn't leave. He rubbed my back when I was freaking out.. and listened intently... even pretending like he didn't want to run, while I explained how insane I may be. And now... he is still there. I still tell him everything... about my PMS... cramps... and many prescription pills. So bottom line... what the fuck do "they" know. I think when it's the right person... at the right time... it won't matter how crazy you are... when you choose to disclose that information... or what drugs you take to try and deal with life. What it all boils down to is this... we should never be afraid to let our crazy hang out.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
THE PLACE
It's that heart aches... can't stop smiling... feeling like I'm floating place. The can't stop thinking about him... talking about him... wondering what he's doing place. The can't wait to hear his voice... love talking to him... can't hang up the phone place. The I can say anything... do anything... and he'll still be there place. The can't imagine my life without him... don't want to imagine my life without him... can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him place. The place where he makes me feel beautiful... happy... safe. The I've never felt this way before... didn't know it was possible to feel this way... never want to lose this feeling place. The he makes me love and appreciate myself more place. The he makes me want to be a better person place. The place where he is my heart and my soul. The place I dreamed about... and wished one day I could get to. The place you hear people talk about... but have no idea what it is like until you are there too. The place every woman deserves to be... treasured... valued... respected... honored... truly loved. It does exist... don't ever give up... until you find THE PLACE.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Nearly Naked
You know that dream, we've all had it, where all of a sudden you realize everyone is starring at you, because you are completely naked, exposed... with no where to hide?? What if that were not a dream... instead a reality? You were caught... nearly naked. Someone I know well recently experienced that for herself... we'll just call her "R". I'm sure you are wondering where... and how. So let me start by saying R did this to herself. Still, as I understand, it is a very interesting experience. You see, R decided to get painted. Think Hugh Hefner Playboy Party painted. You know... topless... with only a layer of paint between you and the world. You may be asking why? According to R, it seemed like a once in a lifetime experience, something she would never get the opportunity to... or think about doing again. And it seemed harmless. After the paint job, R tromped around... topless... for a couple of hours in a crowd of thousands of people. Let's just say it got some attention. Which R said at first was okay, but then became kind of wierd. People were starring, pointing, taking pictures and asking to take pictures with R. It was like a little window into the life of a celebrity. After the initial adrenaline rush wore off... R said it kind of felt like an intrusion, a little too much like being exposed. Not that she regrets doing it, or the experience... but it is interesting. You may think you would never do it... or that it is no big deal, but I think it is only after you experience it yourself, that you will truly know how you will feel. Bottom line, I believe in order to pull off something like tromping around with only a layer of paint keeping peering eyes from "the girls", you need to be incredibly comfortable with yourself, your body, and love being in the spotlight. For some people nearly naked is the perfect position... for others, it is simply over-exposed.
Friday, September 19, 2008
I Hate Crazy!
I hate being angry. I hate being irritated. I hate anxiety. But most of all, I hate that I can't control it... any of it. It is the most frustrating feeling ever! Have you ever felt your self getting irritated and irrational? Have you ever felt yourself teetering on the edge of the crazy mountain... realizing you were about to tumble over the side and still not being able to stop it? As if crazy, angry, over-the-top emotions weren't enough... now I can't even find a way to get it in check. It's enough to make a crazy person, crazier! I feel bad for the people that have to deal with me. Especially those who are closest to me, because, inevitably, I end up taking it out on them. And I can see myself doing it... but still I can't stop it. It's like I'm watching my crazy life on tv... I'm watching myself be a bitch to everyone around me. I'm watching me flip out about the littlest thing. I'm watching me get irritated over nothing. And as much as I want me to get it together... I just can't make me do it. I think having the ability to see myself clearly is way worse. You know those people who are annoying but have no idea? Those people who are obnoxious, but think everyone likes them? The people who think they are hilarious, but really they are offensive? Those people are lucky. At least they can continue living their life in their own little "I rock" bubble. I, on the other hand, don't have that luxury. I am well aware that I suck... and can be a real pain in the ass to be around. But even that isn't enough to make me stop. So in the end.. even I am irritated with me. I guess what it all boils down to... is I HATE BEING CRAZY!!!!
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