Dear Ex-Boyfriend(s),
With Valentine's Day looming before me - and trust me it's looming - it really should come as no surprise that you've all been in my thoughts these past few days much like a bad eighties song you can't stop yourself from singing. And it seems to me, especially when considering my dreams as of late, that each one of you has left an indelible impression on me, much like the way water wears down a rock over time. And so, with a great need to cleanse my soul and seek some other form of clarity not disguised as a disgruntled mermaid, I've decided that there's no time like the present to begin the purging. Consider yourselves warned. Further reading by former boyfriends may prove hazardous to your ego(s).
It all started in kindergarten when Jamie R. decided he liked Jill S. much better than he liked me. In a long string of men bearing the XY equational chromosome, he was the very first boy who ever made me feel invisible, despite my desperate attempts to play the farmer's wife at recess time and not my usual role of the cheese standing alone.
Even at a young age, I learned the horrible truth. Boys did prefer blondes over brunettes. And so I swore off boys for two years, resisting the temptation to fall in love again until third grade when my desk was directly opposite that of Jeff C.'s. And Jeff C. was my kind of boy, with an Italian last name to match his dark, handsome looks and fine feathered hair. He spoke quietly, and seemed somewhat shy. But in reality, he hid a horrible secret.
Head lice.
And somehow, after he came back to school with a head of hair shaved down to its last half inch, the love my heart had harbored for so long vanished like a ship in the night, never to be seen or heard from again. It was, in one word, depressing.
Needing a year to recover and fumigate the image of head lice from my mind, it wasn't until 5th grade that I gave the thought of boys much thought again. This time Bobby L. was the boy of my dreams and once again, his desk was directly beside mine. Back then I was working off the theory that the desk to Stacey ratio usually equated out to be true love.
Bobby L. however took my heart, ripped it to shreds and then told everyone about it. And the cute Pink Panther card I had purchased just for him for Valentine's Day would be my very first, though certainly not my last, gut checking reality that February's made up holiday was guaranteed to disappoint as much as it could make you happy.
Proving to be a bit smarter than your average bear, all thoughts of boys were put promptly out of mind until 7th grade. And despite sporting a full set of silver railroad tracks disguised as braces to make my teeth straight, I was intent on gaining that one crucial thing every newly turned teenager girl dreams about. Her first kiss.
Unfortunately I can't seem to recall the individual responsible for giving me my very first kiss. An unmemorable memorable moment to be sure. It could have been the night I went steady with Heath L. (and was the envy of at least 3 of my friends) for all of 3 hours at our school's roller skating dance. And how sweet a dance it was, for I will always remember that during those wonderful 3 hours our song was "Love Bites" by Def Leopard. A more fitting song, I couldn't have chosen myself if the DJ hadn't played it almost the entire night repeatedly. One sad week later, Heath and I had parted ways and to this day, I still cannot listen to that song without getting an enormous lump in my throat.
For the rest of my middle school/early high school years, I went for crushes rather than actual boyfriends. Loving from a distance was while not as enjoyable much safer to my tender heart and fragile ego. This however did not stop me from making the occasional ass of myself as I attempted to get the attention of Chad F, John P, Scott B, Kevin D and various other boys of no concern.
Then came Tom G. - my first, honest to God boyfriend not counting Kevin C. who during our break up conversation on the phone told me and quite emphatically to "Blow him." (My reply, "Been there, done that." And wow, I hope my Mom passes this entry by.) Needless to say, we'll count Tom as the number one boyfriend even though he turned out to be an absolute pansy, necessitating that I meet him in the parking lot after school to return his class ring and dump his ass right there on the asphalt.
Fast forward to college and my not so secret crush on Bill A. and the reason why I started questioning my taste in men. Bookish boys are handsome by far, but boys with noses that never leave their books should be left behind. Take that as a bit of Stacey wisdom. Anyhoo, college took me to a whole new level. (Note: I am not even going to mention Heath F. from high school as he is quite unmentionable in more ways then one, so don't even go there Brenda.)
In college, I really took to living in a coed dorm like a fish takes to water. I was like, "Hello." And trust me when I tell you, I was slowly attempting to break out of my mold and into the wild child I wanted to become. Hence 3 in the morning trips up to Daryn S's room on the third floor just to say hello, agreeing to the bad ideas of Matt K, getting a little extra help with my math homework from Eric G., flirting shamelessly with Dave M. AKA "Lettuce" as I drunkenly told him to the tune of the Cranberries Linger that I was madly, hopelessly and completely in lust with him, until I finally set my sights on Neville C.
Ahhh ... How fondly I look back on the night when he stole my doorsitter book, allowing me no other choice but to follow him back to his own down and spend the night. It was all good, well until the next morning when I had to sneak out of his all male floor dorm and back to my own without getting caught. Thanks to Dave (can't remember your last name, but you were in my EN101 class) with the big mouth, who not only announced my presence in the lobby but also felt the need for a repeat performance that morning in the completely packed with people cafeteria. (Jackass!)
Neville and I didn't exactly work out, and in a convoluted story way too long to tell, I will leave it at that for tonight. Little did I know however, the whole scenario that set itself into motion would lead me into the arms of he who shall be forever known as Moron.
Moron and I started out as friends, and for all intents and purposes somehow managed to end up together in a bizarre twist of fate. And what a twist of fate it was. One positive pregnancy test later, an engagement ring and an "Oh shit! What are we going to do now?"
we we're moving in together and planning for our future.
But despite our best attempts to see that future in together, Moron decided that the ring he placed on my finger would be much better on the hand of someone else. Four months after our daughter was born, the cheating slimeball moved out of our house to shack up with his girlfriend who he later made his wife, leaving me with a ring that held no promise and a baby girl to raise alone.
Still it was this final heartbreak that finally proved to me what I had believed all along about men. The simple truth of the matter - which had been proved time and time again by all the male role models in my life - was that when the going gets tough, the tough take off running, never to be seen or heard from again.
I know, I know ... Some of you out there are squirming in your chairs, searching for the comment button to tell me this isn't true. And believe me when I tell you, that I'm ever so slowly learning that. So keep the "Stacey, you can't possibly believe that," comments to a minimum. (I'm working on becoming less jaded, but as you all know these things take time.)
Anyhoo, Moron was the final straw. I packed up my heartache, my house, my daughter and my life and decided a new direction was in order, one that didn't include men, And I kept to that promise for a good many years before I met Mike.
Mike made me want to be everything that I was not. To me, he was perfect in every way. Smart, funny, blessed with a wonderfully sarcastic wit, kind and sincere, he was and is the kind of man I had always dreamed about. However things with us were based on a series of half truths and outright if he doesn't ask, I won't tells. Still young and quite seriously naive, I learned the hard way that sometimes the relationships you really want to make a go of, are the ones you've screwed up right from the beginning. And sometimes you ruin a great friendship along the way.
Back in the I'm never speaking to another man as long as I live mode, I easily shunned every male I came in contact with, adopting an attitude that said, even when I was as silent as a stone, that I was the sort of girl who just didn't have time to allow any man into my life.
And I was doing just great on that too, despite small distractions known as Chuck, Mark, Brian, and I don't even know who else, all of whom helped make my dysfunction's all that easier to deal with. I'd say thanks, but I wouldn't mean it. So why bother?
So I did the only thing I could do, raised my daughter, worked hard at my job and made the very best life for us that I could. Until that fateful day when I met Sean and saw, even if it was only for a moment, what appeared to be a bright light in the sky.
That bright light however went from high at a 100 watts down to barely glowing all in a matter of 5 months. Never in my life have I ever met a man so intent on making me miserable, that I didn't even want to be around myself while I was dating him. Check it out people, it's all documented in the archives. Just read January 2004 to May of 2004, and the evidence will all be appallingly clear.
So what exactly have I learned from all of this? (Not including that this post is taking me forever to complete ...)
Well, I suppose I've learned that some things are meant to be and some aren't. Some guys treat you like a doormat because you allow them to. Some men aren't the kind of men you'd want to spend the rest of your life with. And some men, teach you lessons you really need to learn. But most of all, I've learned that throughout all the ups and downs of love, I remain as always, me. And as long as I've got myself in my own corner, fuckwits beware.
(Sorry, had to get the word fuckwit into this post somehow, as I really didn't rip anyone's egos to threads. Not that I wasn't tempted. I'm just trying to use my gift for good and not for harm.)
Searching for Sigmund
Very strange dreams last night involving swimming in a salt water stream and people dressed up in assorted fish-life costumes performing a synchronized swimming water show where the star mermaid was pissed because she wasn't getting enough face time ...
And there was more - such as a great white costume floating about all menacing like, as we trooped around playing star detectives for what purpose I haven't a clue, and the fact that the really hot guy in my dream was so much of an asshole that punching him in the face seemed to be a better option than letting him hang on to those good boy looks.
As silly as all this sounds, I didn't watch a speck of the Discovery channel last night to induce such oddities in my mind. This possibly more scary than I can even begin to imagine, suggesting that all of this just may be hanging around in my subconscious. Uh oh.
If there are any dream interpreters out there, feel free to dazzle me with your brilliance and go a little Freud on me.
And there was more - such as a great white costume floating about all menacing like, as we trooped around playing star detectives for what purpose I haven't a clue, and the fact that the really hot guy in my dream was so much of an asshole that punching him in the face seemed to be a better option than letting him hang on to those good boy looks.
As silly as all this sounds, I didn't watch a speck of the Discovery channel last night to induce such oddities in my mind. This possibly more scary than I can even begin to imagine, suggesting that all of this just may be hanging around in my subconscious. Uh oh.
If there are any dream interpreters out there, feel free to dazzle me with your brilliance and go a little Freud on me.
Growing Pains
I feel quite like a little old lady shrinking into her own shoes as I've wandered around the house today. And this is one of those moments where I often remark on my own stupidity of attempting to do too much on my own without asking for help, as if help were an evil word.
Today's evil word however is back pain. As in I haven't slept right in days, I'm all out of tylenol to make it feel better and my hot water tank has finally told me to take a hike after one too many hot showers. Or as I'm more apt to put it, "Screw you Stacey. This ain't no five star hotel you're running here."
So forgive my lack of blog for the past two days and this even shorter post tonight. I've no choice but to go door to door until someone agrees to walk all over me.
(On second thought, maybe I'll just call an old boyfriend and see if he's free for an instant replay.)
Today's evil word however is back pain. As in I haven't slept right in days, I'm all out of tylenol to make it feel better and my hot water tank has finally told me to take a hike after one too many hot showers. Or as I'm more apt to put it, "Screw you Stacey. This ain't no five star hotel you're running here."
So forgive my lack of blog for the past two days and this even shorter post tonight. I've no choice but to go door to door until someone agrees to walk all over me.
(On second thought, maybe I'll just call an old boyfriend and see if he's free for an instant replay.)
Honesty is the Best Policy
Sometimes you need to be reminded of all the stupid things you've done to better appreciate how far it is you've come. Tonight's list is one I'm sure my best friend Brenda will be quite familiar with. She was after all present for 98.9% of it.
1. Crushing smarties in Mrs. Adams English class in order to snort them. (FYI: Burned horribly.)
2. Riding on the top of the hood of LB's car. (Holding on to what I don't know.)
3. Patio Motel Room 3. (Incredibly stupid!)
4. Getting in school suspension because the ISS teacher had a nice ass. (Although he did write in MY yearbook that he enjoyed having me - correction - my presence in the ISS room.)
5. Adnerb and Yecats. And really, you can't name a pair of shoes after yourself, it's just wrong.
6. Skipping school with Rob and Robin to watch Brahm Stoker's Dracula.
7. Giving blood to go home early from school without permission.
8. Sass mouthing the vice principal, the day we forged notes to leave early.
9. Forging another note saying I had missed school due to a death in the family, not mentioning that it was my Dad's dog, and subsequently earning ISS (once) again.
10. Borrowing my Mom's car to go joyriding (without a license) and getting caught because I changed the radio station and put too much gas back into the tank.
11. The garage incident. (Ooops, my bad.)
12. Our entire senior year of gym class and the excuse that we could just stand there doing nothing because we were seniors ...
13. Failing my Math regents with a 32. (Attending summer school and earning an 86.)
14. The night I stole your shoe and you almost fell into a pond on private property.
15. Sneaking Mike S. into the house on prom night.
16. Making asses of ourselves on prom night, even though we didn't actually go. (No jeans allowed, the bastards!)
17. Playing on railroad tracks.
18. That one thing I cannot mention for legal repercussions but that involved a lot of red snow cone flavoring and oyster crackers.
19. Flushing your favorite sweatshirt down the toilet in college.
20. Swimming in the creek on an incredibly cold night because Rob dared me to.
21. The college video. (Which speaks for itself.)
22. Any of the guys we hung out with that we shouldn't have.
23. Not stopping you sooner from making out with the bouncer at that one bar before everyone could start chanting your name.
24. Skipping my American Government class to attend the same badminton class as Brenda because I liked a guy named Karlton who informed me that he was from another planet.
25. The accident with Dave aka "Lettuce" (we met over the salad bar) in the Price Chopper parking lot.
26. The incident at Shana's party where the cops had to be called and we were too chicken to go home and face the music, so we (Brenda, Beth, Kerri and I) slept in my Mom's car in the Tops Parking lot. (And froze our collective asses off.)
27. Hanging out with PJ to wake and bake.
28. The night I didn't come back to the dorm room. (Actually a proud moment, thank you all for clapping upon my return the next morning.)
29. .74 my first semester at college.
30. Too many more that I can't even begin to mention on here without moving to another country and changing my name.
1. Crushing smarties in Mrs. Adams English class in order to snort them. (FYI: Burned horribly.)
2. Riding on the top of the hood of LB's car. (Holding on to what I don't know.)
3. Patio Motel Room 3. (Incredibly stupid!)
4. Getting in school suspension because the ISS teacher had a nice ass. (Although he did write in MY yearbook that he enjoyed having me - correction - my presence in the ISS room.)
5. Adnerb and Yecats. And really, you can't name a pair of shoes after yourself, it's just wrong.
6. Skipping school with Rob and Robin to watch Brahm Stoker's Dracula.
7. Giving blood to go home early from school without permission.
8. Sass mouthing the vice principal, the day we forged notes to leave early.
9. Forging another note saying I had missed school due to a death in the family, not mentioning that it was my Dad's dog, and subsequently earning ISS (once) again.
10. Borrowing my Mom's car to go joyriding (without a license) and getting caught because I changed the radio station and put too much gas back into the tank.
11. The garage incident. (Ooops, my bad.)
12. Our entire senior year of gym class and the excuse that we could just stand there doing nothing because we were seniors ...
13. Failing my Math regents with a 32. (Attending summer school and earning an 86.)
14. The night I stole your shoe and you almost fell into a pond on private property.
15. Sneaking Mike S. into the house on prom night.
16. Making asses of ourselves on prom night, even though we didn't actually go. (No jeans allowed, the bastards!)
17. Playing on railroad tracks.
18. That one thing I cannot mention for legal repercussions but that involved a lot of red snow cone flavoring and oyster crackers.
19. Flushing your favorite sweatshirt down the toilet in college.
20. Swimming in the creek on an incredibly cold night because Rob dared me to.
21. The college video. (Which speaks for itself.)
22. Any of the guys we hung out with that we shouldn't have.
23. Not stopping you sooner from making out with the bouncer at that one bar before everyone could start chanting your name.
24. Skipping my American Government class to attend the same badminton class as Brenda because I liked a guy named Karlton who informed me that he was from another planet.
25. The accident with Dave aka "Lettuce" (we met over the salad bar) in the Price Chopper parking lot.
26. The incident at Shana's party where the cops had to be called and we were too chicken to go home and face the music, so we (Brenda, Beth, Kerri and I) slept in my Mom's car in the Tops Parking lot. (And froze our collective asses off.)
27. Hanging out with PJ to wake and bake.
28. The night I didn't come back to the dorm room. (Actually a proud moment, thank you all for clapping upon my return the next morning.)
29. .74 my first semester at college.
30. Too many more that I can't even begin to mention on here without moving to another country and changing my name.
Happy Blog Day
Two years ago today, I stumbled on a little word called BLOG and I haven't been the same since. Happy Blog Day NWTLO. Your present - like everything else - is in the mail.
At the End of the Day
Such a quiet day at work today, you could have heard a pin drop. The phones weren't ringing, the fax machine was bare, and no one felt like doing any work today. Instead we all gathered - well my side of the hall gathered - into BM's office where we discussed everything from yesterday's reviews to Nick at Nite television programming, and Moe's really realistic Andy Rooney impersonation was a big hit as well.
Slug however was absent, and I have a feeling his review didn't go over quite so well. Not sure how that's going to pan out, but I'm hoping he pulls it together and gets himself grounded before the thaw moves us in full throttle again.
Truth be told, I enjoy our busy season. And it's a far cry better than having to wait for the snow to melt in order to leave the busy work behind and get back to the job.
About it for me for the night, I'm at the end of my tether for keeping my eyes open and staying awake. And since I don't want to fall asleep on the couch for a second night in a row, only to wake up at two in the morning to realize that "Ow. I've turned myself into a human pretzel," I think I'll play it smart and get to going while I still can.
Sweet dreams all.
Slug however was absent, and I have a feeling his review didn't go over quite so well. Not sure how that's going to pan out, but I'm hoping he pulls it together and gets himself grounded before the thaw moves us in full throttle again.
Truth be told, I enjoy our busy season. And it's a far cry better than having to wait for the snow to melt in order to leave the busy work behind and get back to the job.
About it for me for the night, I'm at the end of my tether for keeping my eyes open and staying awake. And since I don't want to fall asleep on the couch for a second night in a row, only to wake up at two in the morning to realize that "Ow. I've turned myself into a human pretzel," I think I'll play it smart and get to going while I still can.
Sweet dreams all.
Woops
A bit tired last night, and more so than I had initially thought. But then again, I guess waiting all day to be the last one reviewed by the firing squad had my nerves to the point of frazzled, that had I stuck my fingers into an electrical socket, they couldn't have been more frayed.
And speaking in my own defense, I was absolutely fine until my friend Jake (who was the first to be reviewed) sat in my office waiting for the come on in gesture while mentally - and in great detail - rambled on and away about whether this would be the year he'd get the axe. Thereby proving my point that gloom and doom can be contagious.
But it's hard to be only one person in a room of three others who get to decide whether or not they've liked your performance for the year and whether or not they'd like to reward you for it. And being last, well ... You kind of start wondering if they've saved the best for last or if they're just trying to limit the time it takes to pack up your personal belongings and march you out the door, all without creating too much of a drama scene.
As for me, I've come to the conclusion that I really DO like the new Vice President. Not only was he fair during the review, and even quite easy to talk to, but he paid me the highest compliment a girl like me always loves to get. He appreciated my sincerity and my honesty, and said that the (non-bullshit) way I went about asking for a higher increase, was a telling sign of my own personal integrity and my commitment to the company.
Hell ya, is all I have to say on that. I drove home with such a smile on my face that I didn't even bother to put on the highbeams. I was downright giddy, giggling and overjoyed that I stuck my courage to the sticking place. I am the official Shiz-net today.
And speaking in my own defense, I was absolutely fine until my friend Jake (who was the first to be reviewed) sat in my office waiting for the come on in gesture while mentally - and in great detail - rambled on and away about whether this would be the year he'd get the axe. Thereby proving my point that gloom and doom can be contagious.
But it's hard to be only one person in a room of three others who get to decide whether or not they've liked your performance for the year and whether or not they'd like to reward you for it. And being last, well ... You kind of start wondering if they've saved the best for last or if they're just trying to limit the time it takes to pack up your personal belongings and march you out the door, all without creating too much of a drama scene.
As for me, I've come to the conclusion that I really DO like the new Vice President. Not only was he fair during the review, and even quite easy to talk to, but he paid me the highest compliment a girl like me always loves to get. He appreciated my sincerity and my honesty, and said that the (non-bullshit) way I went about asking for a higher increase, was a telling sign of my own personal integrity and my commitment to the company.
Hell ya, is all I have to say on that. I drove home with such a smile on my face that I didn't even bother to put on the highbeams. I was downright giddy, giggling and overjoyed that I stuck my courage to the sticking place. I am the official Shiz-net today.
Blessed Relief
Home for a moment before heading back out to retrieve KC from Grandpa's but I had to stop long enough to share my happiness.
1. My annual review is over, over, over.
and
2. I negotiated for a higher increase and GOT IT!
I am SO proud of myself for finally having the guts to say, "I'm worth more."
More later. Can't be late.
1. My annual review is over, over, over.
and
2. I negotiated for a higher increase and GOT IT!
I am SO proud of myself for finally having the guts to say, "I'm worth more."
More later. Can't be late.
Oxygen Deprived Snow Day
Today turned out to be the unofficial take your daughter to work day. Or as I'm more apt to call it, pick your daughter up as soon as possible from the sitters to save yourself some dinero day.
Yes, yes. KC's school was canceled once again due to arctic conditions and buses unable to start. But of course, they tried to pass it off as a delay, first for one hour, and then another, until finally they threw their hands up in the air and said, "Hell with it. Let's just close!" Decision making skills I would have agreed with had they come up with that idea prior to my having dropped the minor child off at the sitters and heading in to work.
So there I was at work, eyeballing the calculator and watching dollar signs with wings kiss me good-bye as they fluttered out and away from my wallet. And I thought to myself "Hmmmm," as I tapped my chin and said very thoughtfully, "What to do to correct this?"
The answer came to me like a dream, but all screaming aside, I ignored my "don't even think about it" self warnings as I dialed my bosses extension.
Now I can always tell when my boss is going to answer his phone, because he clears his throat right before he answers. And usually, when I'm not the one calling him, I imitate his throat clearing - cough for cough - until he finally yells down the hall for me to knock it off.
This time however there was no cough clearing and no answer. (Damn!) He left me little choice but to go find him in person. But find him I did, and yes he did say to KC coming in for the afternoon. And so she did, complete with portable DVD player and the promise to behave after a lengthy car ride conversation in which I instilled the thought of everything in her room disappearing if she didn't.
Needless to say, I'm happy to report that her behavior was phenomenal - I also admit to still being in a state of shock. Happy shock, but shock all the same.
(Post Break x lots ...)
What you all don't know is that KC and I just finished (2 or so hours ago) tonight's DDR Max session. (I am in pain.) And for those of you who are now wondering what it is I'm talking about, DDR Max is a dance game that disguises exercise as something fun to do. And since it's too damn cold to brave the elements outside and I've more than learned my lesson on my last never went to but paid for a year gym membership, this really is the perfect solution ... Minus someone else doing it that is and my own lack of high metabolism leading to the gorgeously svelte body that God - in his infinite wisdom - has chosen NOT to bless me with. (Have I mentioned I've yet to understand his bizarre sense of humor?)
Anyhoo, we did about an hour before I finally collapsed on the floor in the attempt to catch my breath and said, "No more ..." At which point KC broke out the steel toe shoes and started kicking me repeatedly while I was down. And I was like, "Back little Linda Blair in training!" as I desperately tried to shield my face from the blows.
Alright. Alright. So none of the above paragraph really happened, short of me collapsing on the floor and praying for mercy, the remote control and the blessed off button.
Yes, yes. KC's school was canceled once again due to arctic conditions and buses unable to start. But of course, they tried to pass it off as a delay, first for one hour, and then another, until finally they threw their hands up in the air and said, "Hell with it. Let's just close!" Decision making skills I would have agreed with had they come up with that idea prior to my having dropped the minor child off at the sitters and heading in to work.
So there I was at work, eyeballing the calculator and watching dollar signs with wings kiss me good-bye as they fluttered out and away from my wallet. And I thought to myself "Hmmmm," as I tapped my chin and said very thoughtfully, "What to do to correct this?"
The answer came to me like a dream, but all screaming aside, I ignored my "don't even think about it" self warnings as I dialed my bosses extension.
Now I can always tell when my boss is going to answer his phone, because he clears his throat right before he answers. And usually, when I'm not the one calling him, I imitate his throat clearing - cough for cough - until he finally yells down the hall for me to knock it off.
This time however there was no cough clearing and no answer. (Damn!) He left me little choice but to go find him in person. But find him I did, and yes he did say to KC coming in for the afternoon. And so she did, complete with portable DVD player and the promise to behave after a lengthy car ride conversation in which I instilled the thought of everything in her room disappearing if she didn't.
Needless to say, I'm happy to report that her behavior was phenomenal - I also admit to still being in a state of shock. Happy shock, but shock all the same.
(Post Break x lots ...)
What you all don't know is that KC and I just finished (2 or so hours ago) tonight's DDR Max session. (I am in pain.) And for those of you who are now wondering what it is I'm talking about, DDR Max is a dance game that disguises exercise as something fun to do. And since it's too damn cold to brave the elements outside and I've more than learned my lesson on my last never went to but paid for a year gym membership, this really is the perfect solution ... Minus someone else doing it that is and my own lack of high metabolism leading to the gorgeously svelte body that God - in his infinite wisdom - has chosen NOT to bless me with. (Have I mentioned I've yet to understand his bizarre sense of humor?)
Anyhoo, we did about an hour before I finally collapsed on the floor in the attempt to catch my breath and said, "No more ..." At which point KC broke out the steel toe shoes and started kicking me repeatedly while I was down. And I was like, "Back little Linda Blair in training!" as I desperately tried to shield my face from the blows.
Alright. Alright. So none of the above paragraph really happened, short of me collapsing on the floor and praying for mercy, the remote control and the blessed off button.
Orbling's Curse
On the off chance that I ever find myself playing Survivor without the million dollar prize and an entire film crew to film all my actions, these are some of the things I wouldn't want to live without.
Be careful folks, you're about to get a one way trip into my psyche.
Be careful folks, you're about to get a one way trip into my psyche.
.jpg)
Dog Gone Tired
I was going to include a story about a pond incident to go with the pics tonight, but I've found I'm more tired than I thought. So I've saved what I've started to write and promise to finish it tomorrow. But for now, I think I'll go to bed.
Snow, Snow and More Snow
You know, maybe I should have gone into town for supplies last night. There's a blizzard outside and I'm all out of milk.
The agony!
The agony!
Anticipation
When you're as cold as I am, it's hard to think of anything else save for the fact that you can't really feel your toes, your fingers are numb, your heat seems ineffective at best and you really don't want to do much of anything that doesn't involve being under a fleece blanket somewhere. And so you get a little redundant. Unable to have conversations that don't have something to do with the weather and the way the freezing cold and the promise of snow - too much snow - can change your plans in a moments notice.
Today Bren, Robin and I were supposed to get together for lunch ... Or something. And though Bren and I talk nearly every day, I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't seen or spoken to Robin in years. Not on purpose mind you, but just because life seemed to have pulled me in a different direction than my other former college roommate.
And so I was excited and un-excited to see her. Though I'm quite sure that doesn't make much sense, so I'll explain. Excited because I haven't seen her in this side of forever and nervous to see her because, well ... I'm a much different person than the one she remembers. Some good. Some bad. And I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say, that it makes me a little nervous to stand before someone and wonder what it is they're thinking as they see you after such a long time.
Pathetic I know ... But true.
But it's a worry that I won't have to worry about today, as our plans have been cancelled and put off for next weekend. And next weekend will be easier to deal with, with the minor child present for the festivities, I know that some of the attention will be on her and not on me.
This may not be a good time to admit that I have sometimes managed to hide behind my guise as mother to escape attention. Which doesn't sound a bit like me that some of you may know or not know.
The truth of the matter is that I'm actually painfully shy, I've just learned to hide it remarkably well all these years. And how it is that a seemingly outgoing person such as myself, can also have the tendencies of a wall flower is beyond me. But I swear to you it's true. For like a chameleon, I have the ability to be lost in the crowd, as much as I have the ability to stand out from it.
Today Bren, Robin and I were supposed to get together for lunch ... Or something. And though Bren and I talk nearly every day, I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't seen or spoken to Robin in years. Not on purpose mind you, but just because life seemed to have pulled me in a different direction than my other former college roommate.
And so I was excited and un-excited to see her. Though I'm quite sure that doesn't make much sense, so I'll explain. Excited because I haven't seen her in this side of forever and nervous to see her because, well ... I'm a much different person than the one she remembers. Some good. Some bad. And I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say, that it makes me a little nervous to stand before someone and wonder what it is they're thinking as they see you after such a long time.
Pathetic I know ... But true.
But it's a worry that I won't have to worry about today, as our plans have been cancelled and put off for next weekend. And next weekend will be easier to deal with, with the minor child present for the festivities, I know that some of the attention will be on her and not on me.
This may not be a good time to admit that I have sometimes managed to hide behind my guise as mother to escape attention. Which doesn't sound a bit like me that some of you may know or not know.
The truth of the matter is that I'm actually painfully shy, I've just learned to hide it remarkably well all these years. And how it is that a seemingly outgoing person such as myself, can also have the tendencies of a wall flower is beyond me. But I swear to you it's true. For like a chameleon, I have the ability to be lost in the crowd, as much as I have the ability to stand out from it.
Brrrrr ...
I feel like a weather person.
This morning's temp ... 11 degrees below that is actually 30 degrees below with the wind chill factor.
Someday I'm going to move some place warm. Until then, time to go start the car and go to work.
Happy Friday!
This morning's temp ... 11 degrees below that is actually 30 degrees below with the wind chill factor.
Someday I'm going to move some place warm. Until then, time to go start the car and go to work.
Happy Friday!
Turning Blue
According to a national news blurb that just played on the TV, Christian conservatives are outraged by SpongeBob SquarePants. Evidently SBSP is the new antichrist, whose evil intent is to lead the children of America down a path of destruction and anarchy. Now I can only wonder how long it will be before the official protest starts ... I mean God forbid they just monitor their own children's television viewing and turn it off if they don't like it. Who wants to do that when you can stage a rally?
Count me out of the rally though. I happen to like SBSP, in moderation that is. There is however one certain episode that I don't let KC watch and when it comes on, the TV goes off. I call it my parents power of choice. I choose to know what my kid is watching and I have (on more than one occasion) made decisions for her. It's called parenting, with or without a bible.
If I seem a little bitter today, please take note of the fact that I live in a BLUE STATE. I didn't vote for "the man" and I more than retain my right to now bitch about him for the next (horribly long) four years. I shudder at the thought but there it is. So much for my voice having a say in the matter, half the country voted against the guy and he still considered it a mandate. Whatever.
In other news, I've been lazy tonight. I have emails to write and I meant to get right back to people but I kind of conked out after preparing dinner and getting KC settled in for the night. And believe it or not, I actually thought about missing a post but then my sister Jo (I still like her) instant messaged me wanting to know another term for a production line (assembly line) as she couldn't manage to get it off the tip of her tongue. So we chatted for a few, very briefly touching on a darker subject before moving on to far less irritating things.
Where was I? Oh yes, I wasn't going to post tonight. Well, I wasn't going to, but then after talking to Jo, I felt a rush of blood flowing to the brain and began to think of a few things. Mainly SBSP and the news blurb and then it was on from there.
It is however cold as hell. Although according to my sources, that's an oxymoron. It's currently 5 below zero and expected to get much colder as the night wears on. My house feels like an icebox and truth be told, I'm scared to turn the heat on much higher. Not that the furnace doesn't work, but winter heating bills have been quite scary as of late. So we're maintaining 70 and not jacking it up any higher. As I've been known to say on more than one occasion, that's why we've got blankets. And lots of them. Even the fish have blankets ... (That may or may not be true.)
I had an interesting thought today. And silly enough, I'm not going to mention it just yet. I need to get a few opinions from a few people and gauge the interest before I get myself carried away. (Don't worry Mom. It's all legal.) So if any of you get an email from me soon, with some crazy bizarre idea, all I can ask you to do is humor me and maybe say yes if you like the idea.
But seriously now, I'm as cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra. (That was rather crass of me, but in my neck of the woods, it's a popular saying and so I said it.) And since there is nothing else for me to do here, I'm going to mosey my way upstairs for a little R&R.
Count me out of the rally though. I happen to like SBSP, in moderation that is. There is however one certain episode that I don't let KC watch and when it comes on, the TV goes off. I call it my parents power of choice. I choose to know what my kid is watching and I have (on more than one occasion) made decisions for her. It's called parenting, with or without a bible.
If I seem a little bitter today, please take note of the fact that I live in a BLUE STATE. I didn't vote for "the man" and I more than retain my right to now bitch about him for the next (horribly long) four years. I shudder at the thought but there it is. So much for my voice having a say in the matter, half the country voted against the guy and he still considered it a mandate. Whatever.
In other news, I've been lazy tonight. I have emails to write and I meant to get right back to people but I kind of conked out after preparing dinner and getting KC settled in for the night. And believe it or not, I actually thought about missing a post but then my sister Jo (I still like her) instant messaged me wanting to know another term for a production line (assembly line) as she couldn't manage to get it off the tip of her tongue. So we chatted for a few, very briefly touching on a darker subject before moving on to far less irritating things.
Where was I? Oh yes, I wasn't going to post tonight. Well, I wasn't going to, but then after talking to Jo, I felt a rush of blood flowing to the brain and began to think of a few things. Mainly SBSP and the news blurb and then it was on from there.
It is however cold as hell. Although according to my sources, that's an oxymoron. It's currently 5 below zero and expected to get much colder as the night wears on. My house feels like an icebox and truth be told, I'm scared to turn the heat on much higher. Not that the furnace doesn't work, but winter heating bills have been quite scary as of late. So we're maintaining 70 and not jacking it up any higher. As I've been known to say on more than one occasion, that's why we've got blankets. And lots of them. Even the fish have blankets ... (That may or may not be true.)
I had an interesting thought today. And silly enough, I'm not going to mention it just yet. I need to get a few opinions from a few people and gauge the interest before I get myself carried away. (Don't worry Mom. It's all legal.) So if any of you get an email from me soon, with some crazy bizarre idea, all I can ask you to do is humor me and maybe say yes if you like the idea.
But seriously now, I'm as cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra. (That was rather crass of me, but in my neck of the woods, it's a popular saying and so I said it.) And since there is nothing else for me to do here, I'm going to mosey my way upstairs for a little R&R.
Sing, Sing a Song
If only I were still in my twenties, I would go out for American Idol and thrill them with my lovely little singing voice. I'm sitting in my living room scared to death by the AI rejects and wonder how it is half of them managed to actually get to the auditions with no one telling them that they suck ... As in completely.
Meanwhile my poor assaulted ears have come to the conclusion that half of the world is full of tone death people and families who lie to them. Ouch! So Mom, I know you've heard me in the shower when I was a kid and maybe the last time I was at your house (you know that one Les Mis song that I sang over and over and over again until the hot water ran out and then of course my new obsession with WICKED), it's up to you to tell the world that I actually can sing ... And not just in the bathroom, my car or at home when the neighbors aren't around to hear.
(I take requests ... Send me yours and I'll dust off the vocal pipes.)
All that aside, I've got to make this short and sweet so I can wash that gray right out of my hair. And trust me when I say that this is going to take my full and complete attention. Last time I left the dye on too long and ended up looking like Snow White with raven black death hair, minus the small woodland creatures.
But just to satisfy your curiosities on what trials and tribulations today here's a brief run down.
1. Went to lunch with Toni and succeeded in dropping a piece of popcorn down my shirt, forcing me to turn my back to the bar room crowd and retrieve it without drawing too much attention to myself.
2. Was hit on by a lesbian at said bar ... And returned to work scared to death that I am giving off the wrong vibes. Hence the hair dye, and taking the appearance up a notch. (Single men of the world, call me. Seriously. We'll do lunch.)
3. Berated "Dug" for making off with my car keys and pressing the panic button and then followed him into Moe's office (my car was parked right outside his window) where "Dug" and I took turns setting it on and off as the lights blinked all spasmodic. That is until Moe yelled for us to go back to our offices and find something constructive to do.
4. Shared the lesbian lunch story with Jake, who said that there wasn't enough tongue action in my encounter to make it interesting.
5. Came to the conclusion that I DO NOT LIKE corn chowder. Nasty stuff, really. Ugh.
Alright, alright ... If I don't sign off and don the hair dye, I'll end up putting it off until tomorrow. And lord knows, I can't do that to my vibes.
Meanwhile my poor assaulted ears have come to the conclusion that half of the world is full of tone death people and families who lie to them. Ouch! So Mom, I know you've heard me in the shower when I was a kid and maybe the last time I was at your house (you know that one Les Mis song that I sang over and over and over again until the hot water ran out and then of course my new obsession with WICKED), it's up to you to tell the world that I actually can sing ... And not just in the bathroom, my car or at home when the neighbors aren't around to hear.
(I take requests ... Send me yours and I'll dust off the vocal pipes.)
All that aside, I've got to make this short and sweet so I can wash that gray right out of my hair. And trust me when I say that this is going to take my full and complete attention. Last time I left the dye on too long and ended up looking like Snow White with raven black death hair, minus the small woodland creatures.
But just to satisfy your curiosities on what trials and tribulations today here's a brief run down.
1. Went to lunch with Toni and succeeded in dropping a piece of popcorn down my shirt, forcing me to turn my back to the bar room crowd and retrieve it without drawing too much attention to myself.
2. Was hit on by a lesbian at said bar ... And returned to work scared to death that I am giving off the wrong vibes. Hence the hair dye, and taking the appearance up a notch. (Single men of the world, call me. Seriously. We'll do lunch.)
3. Berated "Dug" for making off with my car keys and pressing the panic button and then followed him into Moe's office (my car was parked right outside his window) where "Dug" and I took turns setting it on and off as the lights blinked all spasmodic. That is until Moe yelled for us to go back to our offices and find something constructive to do.
4. Shared the lesbian lunch story with Jake, who said that there wasn't enough tongue action in my encounter to make it interesting.
5. Came to the conclusion that I DO NOT LIKE corn chowder. Nasty stuff, really. Ugh.
Alright, alright ... If I don't sign off and don the hair dye, I'll end up putting it off until tomorrow. And lord knows, I can't do that to my vibes.
Tori Tag
Don't know who Tori is? Click the link above and check her out.
And for those of you interested in buying me gifts - or not - Tori makes a great just because you make me smile present ...
And for those of you interested in buying me gifts - or not - Tori makes a great just because you make me smile present ...
For the Girls ...
Men.
The very word sends chills to my soul. Good chills. Bad chills. Cold chills. Hot chills. Chills of pleasure. Chills of pain. Chills, chills, chills ...
Sometimes a girl can get lucky and find the man of her dreams. The kind of man who will take the time to get to know her, appreciate the individual that she is, and respect her enough to be honest, considerate, kind, and generous - in and out of bed.
But as we women know, you don't always get the pick of the litter on your first go round. In fact, sometimes finding the right one can take years. Seemingly endless years of aloneness as you wait for Prince Charming to get it all figured out and come knocking on your door. (Note: Prince Charming does not have your address! Do not depend on him to stop and ask anyone for directions to your humble abode. Remember girls, without your help, Prince Charming is as helpless as a babe in the woods!)
So it's no wonder that so many single women out there have chosen to make do. To take what's come along because it's there. To - and dare I say this - let go of more than a few standards in order to bag their man.
My friends, I stand before you today to tell you that I too am guilty in dating the "It's this or nothing man." The kind of guy I wouldn't have looked twice at, if it hadn't been for one small thing ... Desperation.
Desperation is an evil bedfellow. It sneaks in through the back door when you're not looking, sits down on your couch, and before you know has its feet propped up on your freshly polished coffee table. From there it wanders its way down your halls directly to your bedroom, reminding you each and every night that there is exactly one foot of empty space on each side of you as you sleep. And it wakes you up in the morning making you wish for the smell of someone else's bad morning breath, and that first morning kiss hello. Yes, desperation can make you do funny things.
But women, even though drastic times sometimes call for drastic measures this desperate girl has learned a few valuable lessons along her way. Dating a guy who doesn't bother to ask you anything about yourself, talks about his job, his ex, or his mother 24/7, works massive amounts of overtime and offers lame excuses for why he can make time for everyone else but you, and wouldn't know how to keep a promise or a date if his life depended on it, is NOT THE KIND OF GUY YOU NEED MESSING WITH YOUR HEART OR HEAD.
Let me provide you with some examples ... (And it would help here if you thought of this as "He might be a redneck if ...)
If your man drives across the state to make his living but tells you he can't come over to see you because it's snowing ... He's a fuckwit.
If your man calls you on the phone every night, allowing for only a half hour of conversation while only talking about himself and his day ... He's not only an egocentric jerk, he's also a complete fuckwit.
If your man introduces you to his family, but then refuses to meet yours ... He is a major fuckwit.
If your man makes plans with you and then goes AWOL for undisclosed periods of time while you wait at home, watching the phone and crying your tender little heart out ... He's the biggest fuckwit on the planet.
If your man refuses to talk to you either on the phone, on the computer, or through the use of smoke signals while acting like he needs to take a massive dose of midol because he needs his alone time despite the fact that he hasn't seen you in days ... He is, and let there be no doubt, the most incredible fuckwit you've ever met.
And finally ...
If you go to your mans house after he refuses to talk to you through any means of popular communication devices and refuses to let you in while you stand on his front porch, cell phone pressed to your ear only to have him refuse to answer the door or phone so that you can dump his ass in person ... Dump his ass immediately even if it means shouting at the top of your lungs and embarrassing him in front of all his neighbors! And I repeat, DO NOT ... DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT taking him back! For as far as fuckwittage goes, he is a total bastard fuckwit who never deserved to swap spit with you in the first place!
And for God's sake, if all of the above has happened to you and you continue to make excuses for him, and let him get away with treating you like dirt, do yourself a favor and break up with the man. Your self respect is worth far more than this fuckwit! (Thanks to a certain ex-marine for teaching me these lovely little life/dating lessons.)
So women PLEASE don't take a page out of my book and subject yourself to learning about fuckwits the hard way ... Get your ducks in order, print the worksheet below, and for goodness sake, DUMP THAT MAN!
(Worksheet created by Kate Fillion & Ellen Ladowsky in How To Dump A Guy: (A Coward's Manual)
The very word sends chills to my soul. Good chills. Bad chills. Cold chills. Hot chills. Chills of pleasure. Chills of pain. Chills, chills, chills ...
Sometimes a girl can get lucky and find the man of her dreams. The kind of man who will take the time to get to know her, appreciate the individual that she is, and respect her enough to be honest, considerate, kind, and generous - in and out of bed.
But as we women know, you don't always get the pick of the litter on your first go round. In fact, sometimes finding the right one can take years. Seemingly endless years of aloneness as you wait for Prince Charming to get it all figured out and come knocking on your door. (Note: Prince Charming does not have your address! Do not depend on him to stop and ask anyone for directions to your humble abode. Remember girls, without your help, Prince Charming is as helpless as a babe in the woods!)
So it's no wonder that so many single women out there have chosen to make do. To take what's come along because it's there. To - and dare I say this - let go of more than a few standards in order to bag their man.
My friends, I stand before you today to tell you that I too am guilty in dating the "It's this or nothing man." The kind of guy I wouldn't have looked twice at, if it hadn't been for one small thing ... Desperation.
Desperation is an evil bedfellow. It sneaks in through the back door when you're not looking, sits down on your couch, and before you know has its feet propped up on your freshly polished coffee table. From there it wanders its way down your halls directly to your bedroom, reminding you each and every night that there is exactly one foot of empty space on each side of you as you sleep. And it wakes you up in the morning making you wish for the smell of someone else's bad morning breath, and that first morning kiss hello. Yes, desperation can make you do funny things.
But women, even though drastic times sometimes call for drastic measures this desperate girl has learned a few valuable lessons along her way. Dating a guy who doesn't bother to ask you anything about yourself, talks about his job, his ex, or his mother 24/7, works massive amounts of overtime and offers lame excuses for why he can make time for everyone else but you, and wouldn't know how to keep a promise or a date if his life depended on it, is NOT THE KIND OF GUY YOU NEED MESSING WITH YOUR HEART OR HEAD.
Let me provide you with some examples ... (And it would help here if you thought of this as "He might be a redneck if ...)
If your man drives across the state to make his living but tells you he can't come over to see you because it's snowing ... He's a fuckwit.
If your man calls you on the phone every night, allowing for only a half hour of conversation while only talking about himself and his day ... He's not only an egocentric jerk, he's also a complete fuckwit.
If your man introduces you to his family, but then refuses to meet yours ... He is a major fuckwit.
If your man makes plans with you and then goes AWOL for undisclosed periods of time while you wait at home, watching the phone and crying your tender little heart out ... He's the biggest fuckwit on the planet.
If your man refuses to talk to you either on the phone, on the computer, or through the use of smoke signals while acting like he needs to take a massive dose of midol because he needs his alone time despite the fact that he hasn't seen you in days ... He is, and let there be no doubt, the most incredible fuckwit you've ever met.
And finally ...
If you go to your mans house after he refuses to talk to you through any means of popular communication devices and refuses to let you in while you stand on his front porch, cell phone pressed to your ear only to have him refuse to answer the door or phone so that you can dump his ass in person ... Dump his ass immediately even if it means shouting at the top of your lungs and embarrassing him in front of all his neighbors! And I repeat, DO NOT ... DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT taking him back! For as far as fuckwittage goes, he is a total bastard fuckwit who never deserved to swap spit with you in the first place!
And for God's sake, if all of the above has happened to you and you continue to make excuses for him, and let him get away with treating you like dirt, do yourself a favor and break up with the man. Your self respect is worth far more than this fuckwit! (Thanks to a certain ex-marine for teaching me these lovely little life/dating lessons.)
So women PLEASE don't take a page out of my book and subject yourself to learning about fuckwits the hard way ... Get your ducks in order, print the worksheet below, and for goodness sake, DUMP THAT MAN!
(Worksheet created by Kate Fillion & Ellen Ladowsky in How To Dump A Guy: (A Coward's Manual)
This Side Up
Before I get to pointing out some of the new features around the blog, I'd like to take a moment and offer my thanks to all of you kind enough to leave me a comment today. I needed a pick me up, and thanks to all of you, I'll sleep a little bit more soundly tonight and hopefully better than last night.
Between KC not feeling well and Dr. Mom induced insomnia, sleep wasn't exactly my best friend last night. In fact when my alarm went off at 5 a.m. I made the (un)conscious decision to call work and let them know I wouldn't be in. Unfortunately Octavia (the kitten from hell) is worse than any alarm clock known to man and did her usual licking of the face and clawing of the shoulder until I finally roused myself from the bed, and stumbled my way down the stairs with both cats underfoot and running for their food dish.
KC however slept like a baby, after hours and hours of tossing, turning, coughing and sniffling through the night. My poor babe.
So we stayed home all day, watched SpongeBob SquarePants on the tele, ate Pastina for lunch, and placed wagers on which one of us was feeling worse than the other. I let her win, of course.
But other than almost suffering from a near nervous breakdown, I did manage to do some constructive blog related things today. The first being the wonderful how I'm feeling icon on the sidebar I've seen so many sporting on their own pages, followed by the "Read Me Disclaimer" that I found thanks to another blogger's page. (If I remembered where I saw this, I would give them credit for pointing me in the right direction. However I hope my thanks will suffice.) Along with that, I disabled anonymous content to the blog. Originally this is something I didn't want to do, but I've determined that it's the safest course of action to prevent being someone's blog hostage in future postings.
But the absolute best thing I managed to do today was track down a certain individuals ISP address which allowed me to permanently block her from this page. Now I can only hope that I've banned the right person. (Although I'm 99.9% positive that I did.)
As for now, I can only keep my fingers crossed and wish you all the sweetest of dreams as I sign off for the night in preference of my pillow.
Between KC not feeling well and Dr. Mom induced insomnia, sleep wasn't exactly my best friend last night. In fact when my alarm went off at 5 a.m. I made the (un)conscious decision to call work and let them know I wouldn't be in. Unfortunately Octavia (the kitten from hell) is worse than any alarm clock known to man and did her usual licking of the face and clawing of the shoulder until I finally roused myself from the bed, and stumbled my way down the stairs with both cats underfoot and running for their food dish.
KC however slept like a baby, after hours and hours of tossing, turning, coughing and sniffling through the night. My poor babe.
So we stayed home all day, watched SpongeBob SquarePants on the tele, ate Pastina for lunch, and placed wagers on which one of us was feeling worse than the other. I let her win, of course.
But other than almost suffering from a near nervous breakdown, I did manage to do some constructive blog related things today. The first being the wonderful how I'm feeling icon on the sidebar I've seen so many sporting on their own pages, followed by the "Read Me Disclaimer" that I found thanks to another blogger's page. (If I remembered where I saw this, I would give them credit for pointing me in the right direction. However I hope my thanks will suffice.) Along with that, I disabled anonymous content to the blog. Originally this is something I didn't want to do, but I've determined that it's the safest course of action to prevent being someone's blog hostage in future postings.
But the absolute best thing I managed to do today was track down a certain individuals ISP address which allowed me to permanently block her from this page. Now I can only hope that I've banned the right person. (Although I'm 99.9% positive that I did.)
As for now, I can only keep my fingers crossed and wish you all the sweetest of dreams as I sign off for the night in preference of my pillow.
Emotional Hijacking
I've spent almost the entire morning in what can be best described as emotional turmoil of the worst kind. I made an error in judgment and I will own it, because the fault is all mine. I shouldn't have posted the picture I took of my niece (waiting for the bus on her first official day of school) without gaining my sister's permission prior to doing so. It was wrong and I apologize for not respecting her privacy.
My Dad was pretty up in arms about it too. And as I could have guessed, my sister called him first thing this morning to tell him what a horrible person that I am. To be thirty years old and have your father call you to basically say what a shit he thinks you are for not thinking is pretty painful. But the worse thing was when he said that as far as he's concerned the whole idea of my blog is pretty stupid to him.
"I've never read it and I don't ever want to," he said. "If it's personal, it shouldn't be on the internet."
And without him reading it, there's no way to prove to him that it's not the SLAM book my sister has described, filled to the brim with evil content concerning my family and my lack of regard for them. But how do you prove this to someone who doesn't want to know the truth?
"I'm no different from Audrey," I tried to explain to my Dad. "Being a writer is like being an artist, except instead of colors I use words. No one has ever yelled at Audrey and told her she was stupid or complained about what she's painted. She's put her feelings on canvas and everyone tells her how proud they are of her."
"She doesn't post them on the internet though," he tossed back.
"No, she just puts them on display in a public gallery for anyone in the world to see. My writing, my blog, it's the same thing except they're words. My life put down on paper for anyone to read. It's who I am."
"I don't like it."
"That's just it. You don't have to. No one is forcing you to look at it, to read it, to even acknowledge that it exists. And SHE can do the same thing. SHE doesn't have to read it, and I've asked her time and time again not to. No one is holding her hostage and forcing her to look. SHE does that all on her own."
"Still Stacey ..." He said, "I don't want you posting anything about anyone on there anymore."
"I can't do that," I answered. "How can I write about my life, if I can't write about the people in it? It wouldn't be about me anymore, it wouldn't be real."
I could not however change my Father's mind, for much like me, once his mind is made up, he's too damn stubborn to change it.
I did however try to go on with my morning, despite feeling like I'd been run over by a Mack truck and a migraine the size of Kentucky. I thought we could all move on from here but as it turns out I was wrong.
Signing back on to my computer, I found two more emails from my sister regarding my infraction and my blog in general. I feel the need to post them here in defense of myself, to prove to all of you out there that I am really not this bad horrible person she says that I am, and because I think I really need to hear someone other than myself and my best friend say that this is really blown out of proportion.
This dear people is my sister as I've known her for the past 30 years ...
don’t call my house or I will get you for harassment, don’t show your face cause I promise you, I will not be forgiving this time. GROW UP! GET REAL!
ps I saved your message to play for DAD! TO hear how you turned something that you did on me! you are pathetic!
YOU SORRY SAKE OF SHIT! FUCK YOU FAT ASS! GEEK LOSER BITCH! 100% DRAMA QUEEN! poor Stacey, poor SKANK! BEFORE I GO< fuck you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU DUMB FUCKING BITCH HIDING BEHIND A FUCKING COMPUTER!
FROM HERE ON OUT YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!!!!!!!!
Is it wrong of me to hope that she really means to leave me alone this time? Do I really need a person who caused nothing but pain and hurt in my life? Can I wash my hands so easily of my flesh and blood? Have I really done anything to deserve this?
I feel like I'm on a sinking raft in the middle of the open sea.
My Dad was pretty up in arms about it too. And as I could have guessed, my sister called him first thing this morning to tell him what a horrible person that I am. To be thirty years old and have your father call you to basically say what a shit he thinks you are for not thinking is pretty painful. But the worse thing was when he said that as far as he's concerned the whole idea of my blog is pretty stupid to him.
"I've never read it and I don't ever want to," he said. "If it's personal, it shouldn't be on the internet."
And without him reading it, there's no way to prove to him that it's not the SLAM book my sister has described, filled to the brim with evil content concerning my family and my lack of regard for them. But how do you prove this to someone who doesn't want to know the truth?
"I'm no different from Audrey," I tried to explain to my Dad. "Being a writer is like being an artist, except instead of colors I use words. No one has ever yelled at Audrey and told her she was stupid or complained about what she's painted. She's put her feelings on canvas and everyone tells her how proud they are of her."
"She doesn't post them on the internet though," he tossed back.
"No, she just puts them on display in a public gallery for anyone in the world to see. My writing, my blog, it's the same thing except they're words. My life put down on paper for anyone to read. It's who I am."
"I don't like it."
"That's just it. You don't have to. No one is forcing you to look at it, to read it, to even acknowledge that it exists. And SHE can do the same thing. SHE doesn't have to read it, and I've asked her time and time again not to. No one is holding her hostage and forcing her to look. SHE does that all on her own."
"Still Stacey ..." He said, "I don't want you posting anything about anyone on there anymore."
"I can't do that," I answered. "How can I write about my life, if I can't write about the people in it? It wouldn't be about me anymore, it wouldn't be real."
I could not however change my Father's mind, for much like me, once his mind is made up, he's too damn stubborn to change it.
I did however try to go on with my morning, despite feeling like I'd been run over by a Mack truck and a migraine the size of Kentucky. I thought we could all move on from here but as it turns out I was wrong.
Signing back on to my computer, I found two more emails from my sister regarding my infraction and my blog in general. I feel the need to post them here in defense of myself, to prove to all of you out there that I am really not this bad horrible person she says that I am, and because I think I really need to hear someone other than myself and my best friend say that this is really blown out of proportion.
This dear people is my sister as I've known her for the past 30 years ...
don’t call my house or I will get you for harassment, don’t show your face cause I promise you, I will not be forgiving this time. GROW UP! GET REAL!
ps I saved your message to play for DAD! TO hear how you turned something that you did on me! you are pathetic!
YOU SORRY SAKE OF SHIT! FUCK YOU FAT ASS! GEEK LOSER BITCH! 100% DRAMA QUEEN! poor Stacey, poor SKANK! BEFORE I GO< fuck you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU DUMB FUCKING BITCH HIDING BEHIND A FUCKING COMPUTER!
FROM HERE ON OUT YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!!!!!!!!
Is it wrong of me to hope that she really means to leave me alone this time? Do I really need a person who caused nothing but pain and hurt in my life? Can I wash my hands so easily of my flesh and blood? Have I really done anything to deserve this?
I feel like I'm on a sinking raft in the middle of the open sea.
Dirty Laundry
First and foremost and before I say anything else, I DO want to apologize to my sister Amy for posting my niece's picture on NWTLO without her prior approval. I am - if anything - very cautious when it comes to kids and computers, changing their names and posting few - if any - pics of anyone other than myself, my adult friends, and occasionally a picture of KC or my own self as a child. So for that I do sincerely apologize.
However - and this is one hell of a BIG HOWEVER, my sister AMY is the only person in my family who has ever expressed any opposition to my blog under the misguided opinion that when it comes to my personal freedom of speech, my voice and my opinions should be censored. (Read her BLOG COMMENT here.) And I know that what she really wants, is to do what she's always done my entire life, make it all about her and bully me into submission.
But I'm much too old to play that game anymore. And I'm sick to death of the double edged sword my sister feels she has the right to carry around. And she wields it well, despite trying desperately to convince you (the reader of way too much family drama) that the "True Stacey" is indeed the evil, pen wielding criminal mastermind.
What she doesn't mention is how her own behavior factors into much of what I have written and what I will continue to write. Perhaps she's forgotten that it was she and not me, who sent the stinging barbs my way the moment I first walked in her door Saturday, and perhaps she doesn't recall that she spent the entire afternoon doing so. So yes, my sister DOES KNOW what I will write about on my blog following a family gathering, she always sees fit to supply the story line.
Am I the best sister in the world? I'll be first to tell you absolutely not. But then again, I hardly had or have an inspiring role model. (What do they say about people in glass houses throwing stones?)
I'm not perfect and I never claimed to be. I could be a better person in a lot of different ways. But in one way I can say with absolute truth, that I have never intentionally set out to hurt my sister or her feelings. If anything, I've tried to be supportive of a person who believes she has the right to belittle me to anyone and everyone willing to listen. I've tried to be sisterly to a woman who constantly takes pride in putting me down, considers me competition in a race to our parents and siblings affection, and who has on more than one occasion treated my daughter as an extension of myself.
This is the same woman who called me a day or two before Christmas, and took pleasure in telling me that she was broke and I needed to give her an idea of what cheap gift I'd like for Christmas. She's also the same woman who a few weeks after my birthday, and while I was completely out of it on pain meds due to my tooth extraction, came over with my Dad to give me my birthday present.
Would that I could do the smile on her face justice as she handed me that package, I would describe it as the cat who ate the canary. But what she didn't know, is that someone in the family had already warned me in advance to its contents. So instead of getting the reaction she wanted, which was me angry and losing my cool, she got nothing. I simply opened the self help book, glanced at the cover and set it down on the floor, with the briefest of thanks to make mention of it.
But this isn't really about her DISINGENUOUS gift giving. (Though she should really save her money and not bother, if not giving something from the heart.) It's about how SHE treats others and then expects to be treated. It's about the things she says and does that do not reflect the person she pretends to be. It's about the fact that I love her because she is my sister but do not like her very much at all, for how she continues to twist things to her own reality.
Which is why, since last summers major blowout, I have purposely distanced myself from her. I don't call, I don't go over, I don't act like a sister who shares her blood, her bonds, her past and her present. I'm a stranger who happens to be related because that is what she wants me to be. She chose my path and now claims to be angry that I'm walking in the direction of non-toxicity.
I've reached the point where I no longer care what it is she wants from me and have decided to live my life without her surplus of family drama and her Stacey is an evil bitch campaign. Cause no matter what I do, don't do, don't write, don't say, she's never going to be happy with it anyway ...
So I say to you my sister with all sincerity that I do love you. You're my blood. You're the mirror opposite of me. But I can't give you what you want. This blog isn't going to disappear. These words are never going to be written in invisible ink. You don't have the right or the power to tell me what I can and can't write about ... Past, present or future. But what you can do, if you find this all so upsetting, is STOP READING. The choice is yours ... Why don't you make it?
And just for future reference, this blog no longer allows anonymous content.
However - and this is one hell of a BIG HOWEVER, my sister AMY is the only person in my family who has ever expressed any opposition to my blog under the misguided opinion that when it comes to my personal freedom of speech, my voice and my opinions should be censored. (Read her BLOG COMMENT here.) And I know that what she really wants, is to do what she's always done my entire life, make it all about her and bully me into submission.
But I'm much too old to play that game anymore. And I'm sick to death of the double edged sword my sister feels she has the right to carry around. And she wields it well, despite trying desperately to convince you (the reader of way too much family drama) that the "True Stacey" is indeed the evil, pen wielding criminal mastermind.
What she doesn't mention is how her own behavior factors into much of what I have written and what I will continue to write. Perhaps she's forgotten that it was she and not me, who sent the stinging barbs my way the moment I first walked in her door Saturday, and perhaps she doesn't recall that she spent the entire afternoon doing so. So yes, my sister DOES KNOW what I will write about on my blog following a family gathering, she always sees fit to supply the story line.
Am I the best sister in the world? I'll be first to tell you absolutely not. But then again, I hardly had or have an inspiring role model. (What do they say about people in glass houses throwing stones?)
I'm not perfect and I never claimed to be. I could be a better person in a lot of different ways. But in one way I can say with absolute truth, that I have never intentionally set out to hurt my sister or her feelings. If anything, I've tried to be supportive of a person who believes she has the right to belittle me to anyone and everyone willing to listen. I've tried to be sisterly to a woman who constantly takes pride in putting me down, considers me competition in a race to our parents and siblings affection, and who has on more than one occasion treated my daughter as an extension of myself.
This is the same woman who called me a day or two before Christmas, and took pleasure in telling me that she was broke and I needed to give her an idea of what cheap gift I'd like for Christmas. She's also the same woman who a few weeks after my birthday, and while I was completely out of it on pain meds due to my tooth extraction, came over with my Dad to give me my birthday present.
Would that I could do the smile on her face justice as she handed me that package, I would describe it as the cat who ate the canary. But what she didn't know, is that someone in the family had already warned me in advance to its contents. So instead of getting the reaction she wanted, which was me angry and losing my cool, she got nothing. I simply opened the self help book, glanced at the cover and set it down on the floor, with the briefest of thanks to make mention of it.
But this isn't really about her DISINGENUOUS gift giving. (Though she should really save her money and not bother, if not giving something from the heart.) It's about how SHE treats others and then expects to be treated. It's about the things she says and does that do not reflect the person she pretends to be. It's about the fact that I love her because she is my sister but do not like her very much at all, for how she continues to twist things to her own reality.
Which is why, since last summers major blowout, I have purposely distanced myself from her. I don't call, I don't go over, I don't act like a sister who shares her blood, her bonds, her past and her present. I'm a stranger who happens to be related because that is what she wants me to be. She chose my path and now claims to be angry that I'm walking in the direction of non-toxicity.
I've reached the point where I no longer care what it is she wants from me and have decided to live my life without her surplus of family drama and her Stacey is an evil bitch campaign. Cause no matter what I do, don't do, don't write, don't say, she's never going to be happy with it anyway ...
So I say to you my sister with all sincerity that I do love you. You're my blood. You're the mirror opposite of me. But I can't give you what you want. This blog isn't going to disappear. These words are never going to be written in invisible ink. You don't have the right or the power to tell me what I can and can't write about ... Past, present or future. But what you can do, if you find this all so upsetting, is STOP READING. The choice is yours ... Why don't you make it?
And just for future reference, this blog no longer allows anonymous content.
Dr. Mom
Spent the entire day playing nurse to KC who hasn't been feeling very well since sometime late last night. Right now I believe we're in the realm of the common cold, sniffles, cough, low grade fever and the desire to sleep. Although from the sounds of it, it doesn't sound like she's sleeping again just yet, which means I'm back upstairs and back on duty. Goodnight all.
Pin the Tail On Who?
Other than a few well placed barbs sent in my direction yesterday - compliments of my older sister of course - I returned home from the family gathering slightly tired, slightly less hungry, and quite possibly slightly less sane, but for all intents and purposes unscathed as far as the eye could see ... This primarily due to a game of pin the tail on the donkey and a wonderful pink paper blindfold.
Spinning madly about in circles - alright only three times around, but the centrifugal motion was enough to make my stomach clench in protest - and using only my arms for guidance, I attempted to stick rather than pin the tail on the jackass. (Did I say jackass? I meant donkey.)
Gingerly taking a step forward, I ignored the wall completely, reaching out in the direction of my sister as I did so. She however had foreseen my oh so obvious movements and understood immediately what I was about, grabbing my hand as she muttered under her breath, "I may be a jackass but you're going in the wrong direction."
Smiling on the inside and most likely on the outside as well, I once again returned my attention to the wall, running my fingers over its contours until I felt the poster and the unmistakable bumps of other tails already in place. Taking a moment to choose my spot, I stuck the tail on only to realize as the blindfold was removed that I was not only off by a little, I was off more than a mile. (Ergo my lifelong ambition to be a professional Donkey Tail Pinner, snuffed itself out much like the candles of my nieces birthday cake as she made her wish. A wish she was more than proud to announce to anyone and all listening - although I think she was thinking in the terms of presents when she said, "Another birthday."
Spinning madly about in circles - alright only three times around, but the centrifugal motion was enough to make my stomach clench in protest - and using only my arms for guidance, I attempted to stick rather than pin the tail on the jackass. (Did I say jackass? I meant donkey.)
Gingerly taking a step forward, I ignored the wall completely, reaching out in the direction of my sister as I did so. She however had foreseen my oh so obvious movements and understood immediately what I was about, grabbing my hand as she muttered under her breath, "I may be a jackass but you're going in the wrong direction."
Smiling on the inside and most likely on the outside as well, I once again returned my attention to the wall, running my fingers over its contours until I felt the poster and the unmistakable bumps of other tails already in place. Taking a moment to choose my spot, I stuck the tail on only to realize as the blindfold was removed that I was not only off by a little, I was off more than a mile. (Ergo my lifelong ambition to be a professional Donkey Tail Pinner, snuffed itself out much like the candles of my nieces birthday cake as she made her wish. A wish she was more than proud to announce to anyone and all listening - although I think she was thinking in the terms of presents when she said, "Another birthday."
Family Gathering
On my way out the door to today's family gathering and I am 98.9% positive I'll have something worthy to post about later.
Wish me well ... These times can be trying.
Wish me well ... These times can be trying.
Cold Toes
Can't seem to get warm tonight despite the heat being on, and my face half hidden by the soft gray turtleneck I'm wearing quite literally up to my eyeballs. I feel like Mask of Zoro, minus on horseback, cling clanging sword and the prerequisite male parts to make it so. Worse yet, my toes are numb and though I try never to talk about my toes, there it is.
Absolutely nothing to report today. Well other than the fact that I actually did a little work this morning, much to the chagrin of the administrative assistant, whose desk was in the direct line of a moving pile of clutter that went from my office to hers. Or as I decided to call it, Karma. She's been on my shit list for a few weeks now (various reasons) so I didn't feel an ounce bad while I was sneaking down the hall and into her office to do a drop and run. (Although it should be noted that running in heels hardly leads to doing much of anything in stealth.)
She however - and as I predicted - made short work of catching me in my own office with the intent on lecturing me on the evils of hoarding files for extended periods of time. Smiling sweetly - or as others have more commonly referred to it as my shit eating grin - I did what I always do when the situation calls for quick thinking. I sang.
Lucky for me, I was listening to my favorite song from WICKED when she came down to chew me out. And so as she gave me the hairy eyeball, I offered up the following lyrics ...
"No good deed goes unpunished. No act of charity goes unresented. No good deed goes unpunished. That's my new creed."
With nothing to do other than raise her eyebrows and give a weak hearted grin, the situation was easily diffused by Broadway. (Always my secret weapon of choice and one I learned from my Mother, who also knows the power of a good showtune in the workplace.) The momentum as well as the battle lost, she left on a high note ... And to think, I used to believe I was a mezzo soprano.
Absolutely nothing to report today. Well other than the fact that I actually did a little work this morning, much to the chagrin of the administrative assistant, whose desk was in the direct line of a moving pile of clutter that went from my office to hers. Or as I decided to call it, Karma. She's been on my shit list for a few weeks now (various reasons) so I didn't feel an ounce bad while I was sneaking down the hall and into her office to do a drop and run. (Although it should be noted that running in heels hardly leads to doing much of anything in stealth.)
She however - and as I predicted - made short work of catching me in my own office with the intent on lecturing me on the evils of hoarding files for extended periods of time. Smiling sweetly - or as others have more commonly referred to it as my shit eating grin - I did what I always do when the situation calls for quick thinking. I sang.
Lucky for me, I was listening to my favorite song from WICKED when she came down to chew me out. And so as she gave me the hairy eyeball, I offered up the following lyrics ...
"No good deed goes unpunished. No act of charity goes unresented. No good deed goes unpunished. That's my new creed."
With nothing to do other than raise her eyebrows and give a weak hearted grin, the situation was easily diffused by Broadway. (Always my secret weapon of choice and one I learned from my Mother, who also knows the power of a good showtune in the workplace.) The momentum as well as the battle lost, she left on a high note ... And to think, I used to believe I was a mezzo soprano.
Ugh and Other Known Facts
When it comes right down to it, you can't be happy go lucky all the time. Sometimes you've got to put on a brave face, square your shoulders, and pretend like you're in control, even if you happen to be spiraling out of it.
And out of control is a bad place, quite like being mired in quick sand with no thought to escape as you're gradually sinking down. Instead you just wallow there and wait, not bothering to look around for help, no desire to call out.
I always know things are starting to get ugly when I stop walking out to the mailbox. For some reason I'm a firm believer in if you ignore it, it will go away. That is until the bill collectors call.
But even then there's ways to get around them. You can leave your answering machine on all day, hoping that by saying the number only on the outgoing message and not your name, they might believe they've got the wrong number. And you can come home from work and sign onto the internet and leave it on all night until just before you go to bed, thereby alleviating the panic attack you have every time you hear the phone ring.
Avoidance however can only take you so far and sooner rather than later you know it's time to face the music and sing along with the choir. As for me, I'm wishing I had listened to the little voice inside my head that said, "Slow down Stace, you know this is going to land you in hot water." Because as usual, I was right.
And though I'm currently up to my elbows, I'm confident that the wading pool is somewhere close before me. Cause just as good as I am about getting myself in over my head, I have one hell of a mean doggie paddle to get myself out.
And out of control is a bad place, quite like being mired in quick sand with no thought to escape as you're gradually sinking down. Instead you just wallow there and wait, not bothering to look around for help, no desire to call out.
I always know things are starting to get ugly when I stop walking out to the mailbox. For some reason I'm a firm believer in if you ignore it, it will go away. That is until the bill collectors call.
But even then there's ways to get around them. You can leave your answering machine on all day, hoping that by saying the number only on the outgoing message and not your name, they might believe they've got the wrong number. And you can come home from work and sign onto the internet and leave it on all night until just before you go to bed, thereby alleviating the panic attack you have every time you hear the phone ring.
Avoidance however can only take you so far and sooner rather than later you know it's time to face the music and sing along with the choir. As for me, I'm wishing I had listened to the little voice inside my head that said, "Slow down Stace, you know this is going to land you in hot water." Because as usual, I was right.
And though I'm currently up to my elbows, I'm confident that the wading pool is somewhere close before me. Cause just as good as I am about getting myself in over my head, I have one hell of a mean doggie paddle to get myself out.
Trains, Planes and School Delays
Frogging heck!
The list of school closings is scrolling across the bottom of my screen and KC's school is on a delay ... (It's just a little freezing rain for goodness sake, not a white out!) Which means one of two things ... Either those bastards are going to close after I've already dropped her to the sitters and waste me some serious cash today OR they're not going to close and she's going to be wherever else I take her and miss school.
I'm writing a letter of complaint!
Indecisiveness this early in the morning does not work for my schedule! Make up your damn minds!
What to do? What to do?
The list of school closings is scrolling across the bottom of my screen and KC's school is on a delay ... (It's just a little freezing rain for goodness sake, not a white out!) Which means one of two things ... Either those bastards are going to close after I've already dropped her to the sitters and waste me some serious cash today OR they're not going to close and she's going to be wherever else I take her and miss school.
I'm writing a letter of complaint!
Indecisiveness this early in the morning does not work for my schedule! Make up your damn minds!
What to do? What to do?
Advil On My Mind
I've a headache and I've been crying ... Not over anything important mind you, but a really good book. I'd say more, but I'm feeling all verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you yes another topic. Tomorrow that is ... Until then, this is why I'm taking two advils and going to bed.
PS. I Love You written by Cecelia Ahern (And she's only 23 years old! That's it! I've further depressed myself! I'm taking three advils!)
PS. I Love You written by Cecelia Ahern (And she's only 23 years old! That's it! I've further depressed myself! I'm taking three advils!)
Seeing Is Believing
Either I'm seeing things and am really not feeling well, or blogger is in the middle of having a moment ... Hmmmmm.
Bring On the Blog Patrol
I was feeling quite well earlier and now for some unknown reason feel all twisted up inside, quite like a dull pain that settles in your stomach as it gradually builds to intolerable. And even though I know it can't be true, even I have to admit I find myself wondering whether or not my own cooking has done me in. Hence the reason why I've been making up new song lyrics to Tainted Love for the past twenty or so minutes ... Except it goes something like this, "Oh tainted chicken."
Now that you all know where I'm coming from here, I'm sure you'll all be very generous and understanding when you realize the rest of this post is yet another one of my famous Stacey sent emails.
I sent this earlier to a fellow blogger/friend - who shall remain linkless, as I believe this is the way he would prefer it - who has as of late been a little lax on his posting ... A bit rude of me, I know ... But really. A blog is like a child, you cannot give birth to it and then ignore it! It depends on you. (Tim, this goes for yours too ... But I'm being too polite to mention it right now. Oh and Orbling, last update on December 31 ... I'm not the Blog Patrol, but really! Can I even begin to tell you the heartbreak I go through every day when I check your blogs and they're not (gasp) updated! And Mom. Mom who thought I'd forget about her Abandon-a-Blog routine. I'm disappointed. Such a fine writer not writing is a shame. What has this world come to.)
Okay ... Stepping down from the soapbox, trying to maintain an innocent, I didn't just say all that appearance. On to the email ...
From: Stacey
Sent: Monday, 1/10/2005 6:29:06 PM Eastern Standard Time
To: Andrew
Subject: Lack of Gravity
Dear Andrew,
I'm running out of things to read with my cup of cocoa in the morning before going to work. And because I know you (don't) care about this, I'm hoping to guilt you into blogging something (anything really, I'm not picky) in the near future for me to read. Think of it as your civic duty, or increasing your good karma, or just making one small, insignificant girl happy. No, I don't know who she is either, but just think of that happy smile she'd get on her poor, pathetic face if you would only blog with some consistent frequency.
That being said, I hope your New Year's went well and that you are not ignoring the shark alarm warning as sharks have been known to bite more than once in the same place. They're not like lightning you know ... And really, adrenaline rush? I can't even bring myself to comment on that. My kind of rush is watching the Discovery Channel for the duration of shark week and then toe testing the water of the local pool to make sure there's nothing but chlorine in it ... And even then, I'm always on the look out for UDF's ... Unidentified Dorsal Fins ... I've seen Jaws, I know how they work!
Anyhoo, write something ... Even if it's only your grocery list, to do list, take over the world list, people you'd like to maim after a meeting list ... You get the point.
Until then I'll just be here ... Waiting. (And not patiently mind you.)
Stacey
PS ... If you haven't smiled by now, you're missing the whole point of this email.
______________
From: Andrew
Sent: Tuesday, January 11, 2005 10:29 AM
To: Stacey
Subject: RE: Lack of Gravity
I laughed out loud. I will blog today just for you.
New years was very gentle...
Andrew
Now that you all know where I'm coming from here, I'm sure you'll all be very generous and understanding when you realize the rest of this post is yet another one of my famous Stacey sent emails.
I sent this earlier to a fellow blogger/friend - who shall remain linkless, as I believe this is the way he would prefer it - who has as of late been a little lax on his posting ... A bit rude of me, I know ... But really. A blog is like a child, you cannot give birth to it and then ignore it! It depends on you. (Tim, this goes for yours too ... But I'm being too polite to mention it right now. Oh and Orbling, last update on December 31 ... I'm not the Blog Patrol, but really! Can I even begin to tell you the heartbreak I go through every day when I check your blogs and they're not (gasp) updated! And Mom. Mom who thought I'd forget about her Abandon-a-Blog routine. I'm disappointed. Such a fine writer not writing is a shame. What has this world come to.)
Okay ... Stepping down from the soapbox, trying to maintain an innocent, I didn't just say all that appearance. On to the email ...
From: Stacey
Sent: Monday, 1/10/2005 6:29:06 PM Eastern Standard Time
To: Andrew
Subject: Lack of Gravity
Dear Andrew,
I'm running out of things to read with my cup of cocoa in the morning before going to work. And because I know you (don't) care about this, I'm hoping to guilt you into blogging something (anything really, I'm not picky) in the near future for me to read. Think of it as your civic duty, or increasing your good karma, or just making one small, insignificant girl happy. No, I don't know who she is either, but just think of that happy smile she'd get on her poor, pathetic face if you would only blog with some consistent frequency.
That being said, I hope your New Year's went well and that you are not ignoring the shark alarm warning as sharks have been known to bite more than once in the same place. They're not like lightning you know ... And really, adrenaline rush? I can't even bring myself to comment on that. My kind of rush is watching the Discovery Channel for the duration of shark week and then toe testing the water of the local pool to make sure there's nothing but chlorine in it ... And even then, I'm always on the look out for UDF's ... Unidentified Dorsal Fins ... I've seen Jaws, I know how they work!
Anyhoo, write something ... Even if it's only your grocery list, to do list, take over the world list, people you'd like to maim after a meeting list ... You get the point.
Until then I'll just be here ... Waiting. (And not patiently mind you.)
Stacey
PS ... If you haven't smiled by now, you're missing the whole point of this email.
______________
From: Andrew
Sent: Tuesday, January 11, 2005 10:29 AM
To: Stacey
Subject: RE: Lack of Gravity
I laughed out loud. I will blog today just for you.
New years was very gentle...
Andrew
I Remember MTV
Did you know that if you wake up early enough (or stay up late enough) you can actually see music videos on VH1? I know it sounds simply archaic! I mean who actually remembers that the VH of VH1 once meant Video Hits and the M in MTV was for Music? I think it's safe to say that M now stands for Mindless and VH - this one is quite a bit harder - really means Videos Have been replaced by anything reality based. Strange Love? Come on now ...
And is it just me, or is anyone else happy to see that Vince Neil has made a comeback? Sure, he's not as pretty as he once was when Motley Crue was in full swing, but I just saw his remake show the other day, and despite the fact that they dyed his hair some odd shade of brown, he's looking quite well for a guy his age, sans really tight spandex of course. Red, White & Crue baby!
Listen to me though, I'm watching the Mr. Brightside video by The Killers off the album Hot Fuss, and I can't decide if I actually like the song or am biased because I find the lead singer incredibly attractive with his puppy dog eyes and lack of an upper lip. And isn't that Julia's older brother Eric Roberts in the video? Any video with him in it gets my vote, as I find him oddly appealing.
But seriously, I never was a big Crue fan. Back in high school I was all about extolling my anger on the world with Pink Floyd blaring out of my bedroom. Welcome to the Machine was so my song. To this day it still reminds me of a man named Corky who attempted to date my Mother and got a healthy dose of teenage angst leveled against him. Though truth be told, I believe I won that battle ... He was never heard from again and I'm sure my Mother wasn't too devastated by the whole affair until the Nymo bill came. Which reminds me, I heard a cover of Another Brick the other day and it was absolute shit. And like my friend Mike said the other day when this came up in conversation, newer bands shouldn't even attempt covers of classics, as they always end badly.
Honestly though the absolute truth of the matter is when it comes to music, I can listen to just about anything at anytime. Hell I was a music nerd in high school. I sat second chair, first row flute. I played the piano ... Somewhat badly. I could/can play Stairway to Heaven on the guitar. I hung out with the drummers and held the symbols while walking backwards for Jon S. in a Memorial Day Parade. I hung out in the practice rooms during lunch. I was in the drama club. I sang in chorus. I also sang in jazz ensemble and girls ensemble and once sang in a Price Chopper for Christmas. I went to NYSMA competitions. I didn't need to plug my ears while singing to see if I was in tune or not ... Cough, cough Dawn S. I had solos. I sang in front of the school and wasn't embarrassed.
And last but not least, I was and I shouldn't be admitting this, the drum major of the marching band my Senior year. And though they couldn't see me (5'0" tall) there was no doubt they could hear me and my whistle. How I managed to retain my coolness still escapes me ...
And is it just me, or is anyone else happy to see that Vince Neil has made a comeback? Sure, he's not as pretty as he once was when Motley Crue was in full swing, but I just saw his remake show the other day, and despite the fact that they dyed his hair some odd shade of brown, he's looking quite well for a guy his age, sans really tight spandex of course. Red, White & Crue baby!
Listen to me though, I'm watching the Mr. Brightside video by The Killers off the album Hot Fuss, and I can't decide if I actually like the song or am biased because I find the lead singer incredibly attractive with his puppy dog eyes and lack of an upper lip. And isn't that Julia's older brother Eric Roberts in the video? Any video with him in it gets my vote, as I find him oddly appealing.
But seriously, I never was a big Crue fan. Back in high school I was all about extolling my anger on the world with Pink Floyd blaring out of my bedroom. Welcome to the Machine was so my song. To this day it still reminds me of a man named Corky who attempted to date my Mother and got a healthy dose of teenage angst leveled against him. Though truth be told, I believe I won that battle ... He was never heard from again and I'm sure my Mother wasn't too devastated by the whole affair until the Nymo bill came. Which reminds me, I heard a cover of Another Brick the other day and it was absolute shit. And like my friend Mike said the other day when this came up in conversation, newer bands shouldn't even attempt covers of classics, as they always end badly.
Honestly though the absolute truth of the matter is when it comes to music, I can listen to just about anything at anytime. Hell I was a music nerd in high school. I sat second chair, first row flute. I played the piano ... Somewhat badly. I could/can play Stairway to Heaven on the guitar. I hung out with the drummers and held the symbols while walking backwards for Jon S. in a Memorial Day Parade. I hung out in the practice rooms during lunch. I was in the drama club. I sang in chorus. I also sang in jazz ensemble and girls ensemble and once sang in a Price Chopper for Christmas. I went to NYSMA competitions. I didn't need to plug my ears while singing to see if I was in tune or not ... Cough, cough Dawn S. I had solos. I sang in front of the school and wasn't embarrassed.
And last but not least, I was and I shouldn't be admitting this, the drum major of the marching band my Senior year. And though they couldn't see me (5'0" tall) there was no doubt they could hear me and my whistle. How I managed to retain my coolness still escapes me ...
.jpg)
.2.jpg)
Without Help From Heloise
I'm sitting here with a towel wrapped around my head, and absolutely no interest in doing everything I'm supposed to do today, including but not limited to picking up around the house, combing the rat nest out of my hair and at some point driving into the city for a little Barnes & Noble Christmas gift certificate shopping. And when one considers - as I generally do now that I'm driving a new vehicle - the snow to road ratio outside, it's easier to make up reasons to stay inside rather than join the masses of ignorant, don't know well enough to slow down drivers out on the open road.
However I can be easily swayed to change my mind. Say for instance that Brenda were to call and say, "Stace ... You, me, shopping." I can guarantee I'd be out the door within five seconds flat, kicking the four wheel drive in gear and ignoring the fact that as usual, living out in the middle of nowhere like I do, the plows haven't bothered to beat a path down our little road. (Unlike last night when I was creeping along the shoulder to avoid being pushed off into the ditch as they hogged the road with their giant shovel.)
But as I look around the living room where I am typing, it's becoming appallingly apparent that regardless of my lack of liking for housework, I need to learn to loathe it a little less, at least for the next hour.
Which means that I'm grounding myself for the afternoon - Brenda, call me - to accomplish everything and anything that I should have done the entire week. That is unless my phone rings and someone comes up with a better plan ...
Toodles all, I'm about to get my clean on.
However I can be easily swayed to change my mind. Say for instance that Brenda were to call and say, "Stace ... You, me, shopping." I can guarantee I'd be out the door within five seconds flat, kicking the four wheel drive in gear and ignoring the fact that as usual, living out in the middle of nowhere like I do, the plows haven't bothered to beat a path down our little road. (Unlike last night when I was creeping along the shoulder to avoid being pushed off into the ditch as they hogged the road with their giant shovel.)
But as I look around the living room where I am typing, it's becoming appallingly apparent that regardless of my lack of liking for housework, I need to learn to loathe it a little less, at least for the next hour.
Which means that I'm grounding myself for the afternoon - Brenda, call me - to accomplish everything and anything that I should have done the entire week. That is unless my phone rings and someone comes up with a better plan ...
Toodles all, I'm about to get my clean on.
A Little Me Time
I'm taking an it's all about me time out tonight.
A hot shower, a good dinner, fuzzy pj's, my favorite blanket, a soft pillow and a good book. And quite frankly, I cannot think of anything better to do on a quiet Friday night home alone.
Until tomorrow my friends ... NWTLO signing off.
A hot shower, a good dinner, fuzzy pj's, my favorite blanket, a soft pillow and a good book. And quite frankly, I cannot think of anything better to do on a quiet Friday night home alone.
Until tomorrow my friends ... NWTLO signing off.
Bored At Work
Sometimes I wonder why I do the things I do ... (Insert evil laugh here.) And then I remember.
____________________________________________________
From: Stacey
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2005 3:42 PM
To: John
Subject: Inclement Weather
Dear John,
This is not a "Dear John" letter ... Though it does give off that appearance.
Have you looked outside recently? It's looking MIGHTY DANGEROUS!!!
Toni thinks we should LEAVE EARLY. We (Not to be confused with the ROYAL "WE" but the combined forces of Toni, myself and those who shall not be named though I'm sure you can guess who they are if you give it even a moments thought) think it's absolutely imperative to CLOSE due to INCLEMENT WEATHER. (I ask again, have you looked outside recently?)
What do YOU think?
Check YES or no ...
[ ] YES
[ ] YES
Sincerely,
Stacey & the rest of the idiots at this end of the hall
_______________________________________________________
From: John
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2005 3:52 PM
To: Stacey
Subject: RE: Inclement Weather
Being the sympathetic boss that I am, and loathing the idea of carrying the weight of your untimely passing on my conscience, my answer is ... YES. Wait ... I changed my mind ... No.
________________________________________________________
Geesh ... Some people have all the nerve!
____________________________________________________
From: Stacey
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2005 3:42 PM
To: John
Subject: Inclement Weather
Dear John,
This is not a "Dear John" letter ... Though it does give off that appearance.
Have you looked outside recently? It's looking MIGHTY DANGEROUS!!!
Toni thinks we should LEAVE EARLY. We (Not to be confused with the ROYAL "WE" but the combined forces of Toni, myself and those who shall not be named though I'm sure you can guess who they are if you give it even a moments thought) think it's absolutely imperative to CLOSE due to INCLEMENT WEATHER. (I ask again, have you looked outside recently?)
What do YOU think?
Check YES or no ...
[ ] YES
[ ] YES
Sincerely,
Stacey & the rest of the idiots at this end of the hall
_______________________________________________________
From: John
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2005 3:52 PM
To: Stacey
Subject: RE: Inclement Weather
Being the sympathetic boss that I am, and loathing the idea of carrying the weight of your untimely passing on my conscience, my answer is ... YES. Wait ... I changed my mind ... No.
________________________________________________________
Geesh ... Some people have all the nerve!
Inclement Weather
Freezing rain and snow ... You gotta love this shit even when you don't. And it's to bad us Upstater's are tough when it comes to crap weather, nothing ever closes unless the power goes out with no chance of coming back on. Oh well, I'm to work anyway.
(Bren ... Call me!)
(Bren ... Call me!)
Birthday Blow Out
Still snuggled beneath a mountain load of blankets with her favorite stuffed animal by her side, my daughter is sleeping. Sleeping and dreaming of all the things she planned to do today. Her special day.
And even I was making special plans for today. Setting my alarm last night for five this morning to play Betty Crocker with a box of cake mix, a can of frosting and a bottle of sprinkles. Patiently paying close attention to the oven, watching the timer so that they'd be perfect. And thinking in my head what time I'd take my lunch today, in order to take cupcakes to KC's school so she could celebrate her ninth birthday with her friends.
But the Weatherman has done us in this morning. And across the bottom of the TV screen the name of her school flashes CLOSED. Knowing KC like I do, I'm expecting tears of disappointment this morning when I have to tell her that she won't be going to school today. And it's unfair, because the poor kid has been counting down for the last week and talking of nothing else.
I'm tempted to take her and the cupcakes into work with me for the day as the people I work with tend to spoil her whenever she is there. (Well, all except for Cheryl who hisses at anything under 5 feet tall ...) But she'd grow quickly bored and I'd probably go out of my head trying to entertain her all day in-between phone calls. I'm guessing I'm going to have to make an emergency "KC doesn't have school can you please watch her for the day?" call to Grandpa. And knowing my Dad like I do, I shouldn't even bother waking him up, but just take her down the road before going to work this morning.
My poor babe is going to be disappointed no matter what, so I guess there's no putting it off any longer. It's time to face the day.
And even I was making special plans for today. Setting my alarm last night for five this morning to play Betty Crocker with a box of cake mix, a can of frosting and a bottle of sprinkles. Patiently paying close attention to the oven, watching the timer so that they'd be perfect. And thinking in my head what time I'd take my lunch today, in order to take cupcakes to KC's school so she could celebrate her ninth birthday with her friends.
But the Weatherman has done us in this morning. And across the bottom of the TV screen the name of her school flashes CLOSED. Knowing KC like I do, I'm expecting tears of disappointment this morning when I have to tell her that she won't be going to school today. And it's unfair, because the poor kid has been counting down for the last week and talking of nothing else.
I'm tempted to take her and the cupcakes into work with me for the day as the people I work with tend to spoil her whenever she is there. (Well, all except for Cheryl who hisses at anything under 5 feet tall ...) But she'd grow quickly bored and I'd probably go out of my head trying to entertain her all day in-between phone calls. I'm guessing I'm going to have to make an emergency "KC doesn't have school can you please watch her for the day?" call to Grandpa. And knowing my Dad like I do, I shouldn't even bother waking him up, but just take her down the road before going to work this morning.
My poor babe is going to be disappointed no matter what, so I guess there's no putting it off any longer. It's time to face the day.
Hands Off the Peanut Butter
No matter where you work, there's always has to be that one person that drives you absolutely fucking nuts. Fucking nuts to the point that being in the same room with them often produces violent visualization involving random office equipment used for evil and not for good.
It all started with a jar of peanut butter. A jar that when I went to find it today, made me feel much like Old Mother Hubbard discovering that her cupboards were bare when she went to looking to give her poor dog a bone.
Except I had a bagel. A plain bagel. A bagel void of cream cheese, butter or any other yummy for the tummy topping to make it something other than ordinary.
Drastic times call for drastic measures. And having missed breakfast, I wasn't in the mood to mess around. With purpose I walked head held high down the hallway and into the kitchen, opening the cupboard that held two of my office vices. Hot chocolate mix and Peter Pan Plus Creamy Peanut Butter with 8 essential vitamins and minerals,
But when I looked, it wasn't there.
And so I looked again. Checking above, checking below, checking behind. All to no avail. My peanut butter was not in the cupboard. Still holding on for a spec of hope, I checked the fridge next and found much to my surprise, that our normally jam packed shelves and side door were suspiciously empty and on second glance, suspiciously clean.
It was at this point that I bellowed.
"Whoever took my peanut butter better report to the lunchroom pronto!"
I stood there waiting, my foot tapping impatiently, my stomach growling and thought quite possibly there was a good chance that I could faint. But no one came. In fact, no one said a peep. That in itself unusual in an office such as mine where there is no shortage of absolute loud mouths.
With the odds appearing horribly stacked against me, I had no choice but to make a choice. And so I called Doug.
"Hello?" he answered somewhat hesitantly, unsure who it could be calling him from the kitchen.
"It's me," I said. "I have a problem and you're the only man who can help me."
"Woo hoo ..." he answered.
I rolled my eyes and sighed, "No. Not THAT kind of help." Ugh. Just the thought of thinking like he was thinking made me want to wash my mouth out with soap. "Tell me something. Is that your Philly Cream Cheese in the fridge?" I asked.
"Uh huh."
"Oh really? Well I wouldn't normally ask, but I'm standing here with a toppingless bagel and my peanut butter is suspiciously missing. Would you mind sharing your cream cheese?"
"Yeah go ahead," he said. "It's not a problem. Although I should tell you now, that you're peanut butter is probably long gone by now."
"Long gone?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean by long gone?"
"Ask the kitchen gestapo." he whispered. "I'm sure she could tell you where your peanut butter is. But I'll give you a clue. It starts with a G and has an arbage on the end."
"Are you telling me that dumb bitch dumped everything in the garbage again?"
"Yup." he said popping the "P" on the end of the word. "I saw her in there last week with an incredibly large garbage bag and an evil look in her eyes." He paused for effect. "Nothing was safe. Not even the tupperware."
"Don't tell me anymore," I growled. "I don't want to do anything I won't regret later on."
It all started with a jar of peanut butter. A jar that when I went to find it today, made me feel much like Old Mother Hubbard discovering that her cupboards were bare when she went to looking to give her poor dog a bone.
Except I had a bagel. A plain bagel. A bagel void of cream cheese, butter or any other yummy for the tummy topping to make it something other than ordinary.
Drastic times call for drastic measures. And having missed breakfast, I wasn't in the mood to mess around. With purpose I walked head held high down the hallway and into the kitchen, opening the cupboard that held two of my office vices. Hot chocolate mix and Peter Pan Plus Creamy Peanut Butter with 8 essential vitamins and minerals,
But when I looked, it wasn't there.
And so I looked again. Checking above, checking below, checking behind. All to no avail. My peanut butter was not in the cupboard. Still holding on for a spec of hope, I checked the fridge next and found much to my surprise, that our normally jam packed shelves and side door were suspiciously empty and on second glance, suspiciously clean.
It was at this point that I bellowed.
"Whoever took my peanut butter better report to the lunchroom pronto!"
I stood there waiting, my foot tapping impatiently, my stomach growling and thought quite possibly there was a good chance that I could faint. But no one came. In fact, no one said a peep. That in itself unusual in an office such as mine where there is no shortage of absolute loud mouths.
With the odds appearing horribly stacked against me, I had no choice but to make a choice. And so I called Doug.
"Hello?" he answered somewhat hesitantly, unsure who it could be calling him from the kitchen.
"It's me," I said. "I have a problem and you're the only man who can help me."
"Woo hoo ..." he answered.
I rolled my eyes and sighed, "No. Not THAT kind of help." Ugh. Just the thought of thinking like he was thinking made me want to wash my mouth out with soap. "Tell me something. Is that your Philly Cream Cheese in the fridge?" I asked.
"Uh huh."
"Oh really? Well I wouldn't normally ask, but I'm standing here with a toppingless bagel and my peanut butter is suspiciously missing. Would you mind sharing your cream cheese?"
"Yeah go ahead," he said. "It's not a problem. Although I should tell you now, that you're peanut butter is probably long gone by now."
"Long gone?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean by long gone?"
"Ask the kitchen gestapo." he whispered. "I'm sure she could tell you where your peanut butter is. But I'll give you a clue. It starts with a G and has an arbage on the end."
"Are you telling me that dumb bitch dumped everything in the garbage again?"
"Yup." he said popping the "P" on the end of the word. "I saw her in there last week with an incredibly large garbage bag and an evil look in her eyes." He paused for effect. "Nothing was safe. Not even the tupperware."
"Don't tell me anymore," I growled. "I don't want to do anything I won't regret later on."
The Final Shard
Three posts in one day. And no, before you ask, today I have no life. I have no shards either ... Yes, you heard me right. The last and final shard has finally seen fit to get the hell out of my mouth! And it feels wonderful. I am running my tongue up and down my previously swollen and irritated gum and it's like heaven on earth. No more pain!
On a final note before I sign off for the night and drag my sorry ass upstairs to bed, I want to thank Orbling for the mental support he's given as of late. You're like my hero ...
Brenda however should stay away from giant rubber bands.
On a final note before I sign off for the night and drag my sorry ass upstairs to bed, I want to thank Orbling for the mental support he's given as of late. You're like my hero ...
Brenda however should stay away from giant rubber bands.
Why Bother?
To the idiot who felt the need to send me a one word email at approximately 1:54:29 PM Eastern Standard Time, please make a mental note that you are an ASSHOLE.
Definition:
Main Entry: ass·hole
Pronunciation: 'as-"(h)Ol
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 : usually vulgar : ANUS
2 a : usually vulgar : a stupid, incompetent, or detestable person b : usually vulgar : a despicable place; usually used in the phrase asshole of the universe
Now that we're on equal footing with the name calling, please make a mental note that your email has been saved for future reference and will be forwarded to AOL's gatekeepers should you feel the need to share your limited vocabulary again.
Oh and one more thing, I'm telling INKY to add you to the FUCKWIT LIST!
Definition:
Main Entry: ass·hole
Pronunciation: 'as-"(h)Ol
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 : usually vulgar : ANUS
2 a : usually vulgar : a stupid, incompetent, or detestable person b : usually vulgar : a despicable place; usually used in the phrase asshole of the universe
Now that we're on equal footing with the name calling, please make a mental note that your email has been saved for future reference and will be forwarded to AOL's gatekeepers should you feel the need to share your limited vocabulary again.
Oh and one more thing, I'm telling INKY to add you to the FUCKWIT LIST!
Tavi the Terrible
There's nothing worse than the sound of an alarm clock when it feels like you haven't gotten enough sleep. When the damn thing went off this morning, I felt like crying "No, not yet. It cannot be." Instead I reached out from beneath the covers, displacing the sinister kitten from her comfy spot and tapped around in search of the snooze button.
Rewarded by the sound of silence, I pulled my blankets back up around my neck and settled my head back against my pillow, sighing in relief as my eyes shut once more to blessed darkness. But sleep was not to return. Instead the earlier referred to sinister ball of black fluff - now decidely awake and pressed against my shoulder - began her abandoned kitten routine.
Nuzzling her face against mine, she treated me to a gentle face lick, and then proceeded to claw the hell out of my shoulder, as her tiny little paws pressed up and down like a baby intent on nursing.
Not exactly at my best first thing in the morning, I shoved her off muttering four letters words as I did. "Jesus Octavia," note to self that her name is really only Octavia and the use of the Lord's name in vain was badly done of me, "You're worse than the G. Damn alarm clock!"
Unfettered and without a seconds hesitation, despite a second shove from yours truly, Tavi resumed her plan of attack, this time deciding my hand was a chew toy.
"For the love of Go ... Monkeys!" I shouted. "I'm getting up you little pain in the ass!"
And I did. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed - it should be noted that my doing so never results in my legs actually touching the floor - and hopping down, I Helen Keller'ed my way through the darkness and into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly behind me before Cat-tankerous could follow me in. " Blessed peace," I thought to myself, as I turned the water on in the shower and stepped in, turning once to look back at the door where a little black paw playfully swiped at the throw rug within its reach.
Rewarded by the sound of silence, I pulled my blankets back up around my neck and settled my head back against my pillow, sighing in relief as my eyes shut once more to blessed darkness. But sleep was not to return. Instead the earlier referred to sinister ball of black fluff - now decidely awake and pressed against my shoulder - began her abandoned kitten routine.
Nuzzling her face against mine, she treated me to a gentle face lick, and then proceeded to claw the hell out of my shoulder, as her tiny little paws pressed up and down like a baby intent on nursing.
Not exactly at my best first thing in the morning, I shoved her off muttering four letters words as I did. "Jesus Octavia," note to self that her name is really only Octavia and the use of the Lord's name in vain was badly done of me, "You're worse than the G. Damn alarm clock!"
Unfettered and without a seconds hesitation, despite a second shove from yours truly, Tavi resumed her plan of attack, this time deciding my hand was a chew toy.
"For the love of Go ... Monkeys!" I shouted. "I'm getting up you little pain in the ass!"
And I did. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed - it should be noted that my doing so never results in my legs actually touching the floor - and hopping down, I Helen Keller'ed my way through the darkness and into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly behind me before Cat-tankerous could follow me in. " Blessed peace," I thought to myself, as I turned the water on in the shower and stepped in, turning once to look back at the door where a little black paw playfully swiped at the throw rug within its reach.
Motivation Operation
Another day off from work today and truth be told I'm quite sick and tired of being home ... Though this is quite possibly because I have a ton of stuff to do - like still take down the Christmas tree - and have absolutely no motivation to do anything let alone sit here and flip through bad morning television.
Packed KC up for school this morning and watched from the door as she got on the bus, turning around long enough to make a face at me for queering her out by standing there with a seriously bad case of bed hair, refusing to budge until the yellow door snapped shut behind her and the bus was once again on its way. And thought to myself, "Well that's done. Time to go back to bed now."
But as much as I love my bed, I really must find a little motivation today. Which is why, a few moments ago I went to the kitchen, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, popped a load of laundry into the dryer and made myself a nutritious breakfast to start my day. Two slices wheat toast, two eggs over easy, one 8 oz glass of apple juice and a horse pill sized morning vitamin to make up for all the green things I don't eat. (Note # 4 New Year's Resolution list.)
So enough blogging from me. I've a shower to take. But before I go, I want to share a link that was shared with me this morning via email from my new found friend Inky, whose blog is really quite amusing and well written. And since this seems to be a link to a friend, from a friend, to another friend for a friend, it's only fair that I credit everyone involved in making this link find its way to me.
So check em out ...
A Girl Called Inky
I Am Prepared to Give Up at Any Time
and finally
Invisible Book
(And to all the other blogs I read and enjoy on a daily basis, rest assured the minute I figure out how to make page links from NWTLO without throwing my whole template out of whack, I'll be listing you too.)
Packed KC up for school this morning and watched from the door as she got on the bus, turning around long enough to make a face at me for queering her out by standing there with a seriously bad case of bed hair, refusing to budge until the yellow door snapped shut behind her and the bus was once again on its way. And thought to myself, "Well that's done. Time to go back to bed now."
But as much as I love my bed, I really must find a little motivation today. Which is why, a few moments ago I went to the kitchen, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, popped a load of laundry into the dryer and made myself a nutritious breakfast to start my day. Two slices wheat toast, two eggs over easy, one 8 oz glass of apple juice and a horse pill sized morning vitamin to make up for all the green things I don't eat. (Note # 4 New Year's Resolution list.)
So enough blogging from me. I've a shower to take. But before I go, I want to share a link that was shared with me this morning via email from my new found friend Inky, whose blog is really quite amusing and well written. And since this seems to be a link to a friend, from a friend, to another friend for a friend, it's only fair that I credit everyone involved in making this link find its way to me.
So check em out ...
A Girl Called Inky
I Am Prepared to Give Up at Any Time
and finally
Invisible Book
(And to all the other blogs I read and enjoy on a daily basis, rest assured the minute I figure out how to make page links from NWTLO without throwing my whole template out of whack, I'll be listing you too.)
Big, Huge Mistake
Years back after a sordid obsession with online chat rooms and friendships that in turn did more harm than good, I decided to quit cold turkey and vowed to myself I would never again waste my time on instant messaging people I didn't already know. Last night as the dark descended outside and the quiet of the house was beginning to grate on my nerves, I broke that promise to myself and went into an AOL inspired chat room called Thirties Friends.
Unlike most people, I was actually just looking to strike up a friendly conversation with some virtual stranger to pass the time. With nothing good on the television and no desire to doll myself up and go out into the world for the evening, it seemed like the perfect plan to waste away the night.
Perfect plans however rarely work out perfectly.
Kicking back on the couch, discovery channel on low, and a champagne glass of apple juice by my side, the instant messages began to roll in.
Derrick from PA wanted to know my A/S/L and the color of my eyes - brown, by the way - John from KY taking a more direct approach, decided to share the fact that he had a seven inch tongue and all the patience in the world - mind you this was unsolicited information he was handing out. And with the instant message chime sounding off every few seconds, I picked my way through a mass of messages until finally coming across one that seemed somewhat normal.
Normal lasted for about 10 minutes before I was proved wrong once again. This time, and much to my chagrin, the guy seemed more interested in sharing his intimate fantasies with me. Now I'm all about people having fantasies and sharing them with the people they love - or lust after even - but the prude in me doesn't feel the need to share this with random strangers on the internet. In fact I'm in practice to be a Born Again Virgin. Which means that the any girl will do theory that most - though not all - virtual men seem to subscribe to was not working out for this particular gentleman's fantasy.
Trying to figure out the easiest way to get out of the conversation as politely as possible, I took advantage of the situation when his computer - which had logged him off earlier in the conversation - logged him off again. Quickly making myself invisible except to those members I allowed to see me online, I watched as his screen name popped up and thought to myself that I was in the clear.
But in the clear lasted as long as it took him to send me an email, an email I stupidly read alerting him to the fact that I was still online but in invisible mode. So I did the only thing I thought to be politically correct, I sent him an email explaining - okay lying - that I was tired and turning in for the night. An easy way to get rid of him I thought.
My online profile with a direct link to NWTLO gave him other ideas however and considering my easily diagnosed penchant for the written word, there was soon another email in my inbox. And one once read was hard to forget, though to say too much at this point would be doing a disservice to us all ...
I will tell you all however that I was amused, albeit very mildly and not for the reasons you think.
Unlike most people, I was actually just looking to strike up a friendly conversation with some virtual stranger to pass the time. With nothing good on the television and no desire to doll myself up and go out into the world for the evening, it seemed like the perfect plan to waste away the night.
Perfect plans however rarely work out perfectly.
Kicking back on the couch, discovery channel on low, and a champagne glass of apple juice by my side, the instant messages began to roll in.
Derrick from PA wanted to know my A/S/L and the color of my eyes - brown, by the way - John from KY taking a more direct approach, decided to share the fact that he had a seven inch tongue and all the patience in the world - mind you this was unsolicited information he was handing out. And with the instant message chime sounding off every few seconds, I picked my way through a mass of messages until finally coming across one that seemed somewhat normal.
Normal lasted for about 10 minutes before I was proved wrong once again. This time, and much to my chagrin, the guy seemed more interested in sharing his intimate fantasies with me. Now I'm all about people having fantasies and sharing them with the people they love - or lust after even - but the prude in me doesn't feel the need to share this with random strangers on the internet. In fact I'm in practice to be a Born Again Virgin. Which means that the any girl will do theory that most - though not all - virtual men seem to subscribe to was not working out for this particular gentleman's fantasy.
Trying to figure out the easiest way to get out of the conversation as politely as possible, I took advantage of the situation when his computer - which had logged him off earlier in the conversation - logged him off again. Quickly making myself invisible except to those members I allowed to see me online, I watched as his screen name popped up and thought to myself that I was in the clear.
But in the clear lasted as long as it took him to send me an email, an email I stupidly read alerting him to the fact that I was still online but in invisible mode. So I did the only thing I thought to be politically correct, I sent him an email explaining - okay lying - that I was tired and turning in for the night. An easy way to get rid of him I thought.
My online profile with a direct link to NWTLO gave him other ideas however and considering my easily diagnosed penchant for the written word, there was soon another email in my inbox. And one once read was hard to forget, though to say too much at this point would be doing a disservice to us all ...
I will tell you all however that I was amused, albeit very mildly and not for the reasons you think.
2005 Top Ten
A bit late, but as they say it's better to be late than never, my 2005 resolutions are now in full swing to either be studiously kept, conveniently forgotten or accidentally undone as fate would have it. And since I'm big on top ten lists, it's only fitting that I conserve my energies to those things that mean the most to me.
10. Get my finances back in order. Utilize savings account!
9. Lose the defense of clutter article tacked up on the fridge, and re-teach myself and KC the art of keeping a clean home. Donate those items that are no longer necessary and in good condition to Catholic Charities.
8. Take "IF" out of the equation. No more letting "IF" be an excuse for not accomplishing my dreams.
7. Get up, get out and get moving. A healthy Stacey is a happy Stacey.
6. Work for a living, but don't live for your work.
5. Be a better Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Woman.
4. Learn to like green vegetables, and other healthy foods.
3. Be open and available to finding love without losing myself in the process.
2. Make the world a better place, one small contribution at a time.
1. Complete the book I was born to write.
Oh and yeah, keep on blogging ...
10. Get my finances back in order. Utilize savings account!
9. Lose the defense of clutter article tacked up on the fridge, and re-teach myself and KC the art of keeping a clean home. Donate those items that are no longer necessary and in good condition to Catholic Charities.
8. Take "IF" out of the equation. No more letting "IF" be an excuse for not accomplishing my dreams.
7. Get up, get out and get moving. A healthy Stacey is a happy Stacey.
6. Work for a living, but don't live for your work.
5. Be a better Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Woman.
4. Learn to like green vegetables, and other healthy foods.
3. Be open and available to finding love without losing myself in the process.
2. Make the world a better place, one small contribution at a time.
1. Complete the book I was born to write.
Oh and yeah, keep on blogging ...
Highlights
Because I am far too tired (having just got home) and far too cold (having just turned the heat back on)to blog about last night in its entirety, I thought I'd entertain you all with the highlights.
The Outback restaurant is seriously overrated.
Liquor stores on New Year's Eve are packed with single, available men.
Upstate NY movie theaters that have outside ticket lines are by far the dumbest idea that anyone has come up with. Especially after freezing for 15 to 20 minutes to find out that the movie you wanted to see is sold out.
Margaurita's are YUMMY.
Good help at Blockbuster isn't hard to find. Seeing how long he'll stick around to help you out after you've good naturedly made him turn every shade of red in the book is even better. "We're starting out with Garfield and making our way to the Porn section."
Getting the kids to go to bed in order to get your drink on is difficult.
White Chicks - the movie - is hysterical. I want to marry a Wayans Brother!
Creamsicles - Orange mix with Vodka, vanilla ice cream and crushed ice - Taste more like yummy, delicious popsicles than liquor.
Trying to make more creamsicles after having had a few creamsicles is difficult.
The Scene ... A very messy counter. A bottle of orange vodka mixture, a pint of vanilla ice cream, a bag of ice and a blender. Brenda popping the lid on the blender and pushing the on button to no avail, me standing by with what I decided to call a mice cream scoop sing songing "You broke it, you broke it." Realizing some minutes later that we've managed to plug in the toaster and not the blender, as we laughed like lunatics in the kitchen.
Downing more creamsicles.
Having a girl camp out on the couches. Me on the shorter one of course.
Feeling like it was 1000 degrees as a result of too much alochol.
Waking up at around 3 something in the morning and getting somewhat sick in the bathroom.
Going back to sleep on a spiderman pillow, feeling much better.
Waking up and spending the rest of the day doing nothing, with little to no accomplishment.
Just talking, laughing and carrying on like idiots. It couldn't have been any better.
The Outback restaurant is seriously overrated.
Liquor stores on New Year's Eve are packed with single, available men.
Upstate NY movie theaters that have outside ticket lines are by far the dumbest idea that anyone has come up with. Especially after freezing for 15 to 20 minutes to find out that the movie you wanted to see is sold out.
Margaurita's are YUMMY.
Good help at Blockbuster isn't hard to find. Seeing how long he'll stick around to help you out after you've good naturedly made him turn every shade of red in the book is even better. "We're starting out with Garfield and making our way to the Porn section."
Getting the kids to go to bed in order to get your drink on is difficult.
White Chicks - the movie - is hysterical. I want to marry a Wayans Brother!
Creamsicles - Orange mix with Vodka, vanilla ice cream and crushed ice - Taste more like yummy, delicious popsicles than liquor.
Trying to make more creamsicles after having had a few creamsicles is difficult.
The Scene ... A very messy counter. A bottle of orange vodka mixture, a pint of vanilla ice cream, a bag of ice and a blender. Brenda popping the lid on the blender and pushing the on button to no avail, me standing by with what I decided to call a mice cream scoop sing songing "You broke it, you broke it." Realizing some minutes later that we've managed to plug in the toaster and not the blender, as we laughed like lunatics in the kitchen.
Downing more creamsicles.
Having a girl camp out on the couches. Me on the shorter one of course.
Feeling like it was 1000 degrees as a result of too much alochol.
Waking up at around 3 something in the morning and getting somewhat sick in the bathroom.
Going back to sleep on a spiderman pillow, feeling much better.
Waking up and spending the rest of the day doing nothing, with little to no accomplishment.
Just talking, laughing and carrying on like idiots. It couldn't have been any better.
