26 October 2007
Flip That House
Isn’t it funny how when you're sick and laying in bed or on the couch at home, you just stare at the walls and then your inner Christopher Lowell pops out and you’ve got the whole place redecorated in your head...my living room is FABULOUS when I’m half comatose!
24 October 2007
Photos
These are crappy, but at least you can tell that we had a fun night at Jil's bachelorette party! The videos are hilarious, but I didn't bother to upload them because there's no sound. Plus, Jil is dancing around in lingerie, so they might end up on YouTube, and we CAN'T HAVE THAT!!
Tanya Does The Tea Room
Jilio
Leslye
The tattoo that Liz so loving constructed for me out of various other tattoos. This photo doesn't show the big sparkly "SEXY" that she pasted on above the kitty.
Tanya Does The Tea Room
Jilio
Leslye
The tattoo that Liz so loving constructed for me out of various other tattoos. This photo doesn't show the big sparkly "SEXY" that she pasted on above the kitty.
11 October 2007
Another Quote
"A vigorous five-mile walk will do more good for an unhappy but otherwise healthy adult than all the medicine and psychology in the world."
Paul Dudley White (whoever he is!)
Paul Dudley White (whoever he is!)
10 October 2007
Anne Lamott
"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up."
"When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens."
"You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do."
"Any willingness to let go inevitably comes from pain; and the desire to change changes you, and jiggles the spirit, gets to it somehow, to the deepest, hardest, most ruined parts."
~all Anne Lamott
"When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens."
"You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do."
"Any willingness to let go inevitably comes from pain; and the desire to change changes you, and jiggles the spirit, gets to it somehow, to the deepest, hardest, most ruined parts."
~all Anne Lamott
09 October 2007
Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged...
I have been hasty in my decision to accept no blame. So, let it be stated that, compliments of my son (wise at 10), I know that I had a lot to do with my recent break-up. I often took W for granted, I was too lax in my insistence that we seek help as a couple, I drank too much and said things I didn't mean (oh, wait, I did that the other day, too...shit), etc etc. I tried to change him and that was wrong; it would have been more acceptable, and might have even worked, if I explained WHY I was doing it. Instead, starting about last January, I sat alone in the other living room on the nights that he was home, and ignored what was going on between us (nothing).
I was very passive-aggressive, saying things like, "well, I was HOPING that you would want to stay home and talk with me instead of going to that damned bar to play pool with your buddies." I told him often -- and I stil believe this, actually -- that the bar and his drinking friends (oh, and the college pootie that apparently he is loving on these days) were more important than our relationship, and more worthy in his mind of his time. Boy howdy, he proved me right on that one! But still, I could have and should have handled it (and most other things) a lot differently.
I wish that now he would just grab his balls in his hand and agree to meet me to talk. I think that he would be surprised that I have a lot of negative things to say about myself, too. It takes two to fuck up a relationship, although it really only takes one to decide that it's over.
And I have positive things to say: he's funny, smart, kind, friendly, people like him, he's handsome, good with kids, willing to help always, he drives at night and in the snow, he's a hard worker, good in the sack, and loving. Just to name a few things. I won't go too far on the negative side because this is a public forum and there's no reason to be intentionally nasty. Buuuuut, he is immature, an alcoholic, unwilling to face certain truths and work to make them better, and generally lazy about making himself a better person. Please note that I myself identify way too closely with all but the immature part!
(Romans 14:1, 4, 12, 22)
Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters...Who are you to judge someone else's servant? To his own master he stands or falls...So then each of us will give an account of himself to God...So whatever you believe about these things keep between yourself and God.
I was very passive-aggressive, saying things like, "well, I was HOPING that you would want to stay home and talk with me instead of going to that damned bar to play pool with your buddies." I told him often -- and I stil believe this, actually -- that the bar and his drinking friends (oh, and the college pootie that apparently he is loving on these days) were more important than our relationship, and more worthy in his mind of his time. Boy howdy, he proved me right on that one! But still, I could have and should have handled it (and most other things) a lot differently.
I wish that now he would just grab his balls in his hand and agree to meet me to talk. I think that he would be surprised that I have a lot of negative things to say about myself, too. It takes two to fuck up a relationship, although it really only takes one to decide that it's over.
And I have positive things to say: he's funny, smart, kind, friendly, people like him, he's handsome, good with kids, willing to help always, he drives at night and in the snow, he's a hard worker, good in the sack, and loving. Just to name a few things. I won't go too far on the negative side because this is a public forum and there's no reason to be intentionally nasty. Buuuuut, he is immature, an alcoholic, unwilling to face certain truths and work to make them better, and generally lazy about making himself a better person. Please note that I myself identify way too closely with all but the immature part!
(Romans 14:1, 4, 12, 22)
Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters...Who are you to judge someone else's servant? To his own master he stands or falls...So then each of us will give an account of himself to God...So whatever you believe about these things keep between yourself and God.
04 October 2007
From MSN.com Today
This is from an article about how to be a happier person. Other things you should do: practice random acts of kindness, talk to friends often, express gratitude (THANK YOU, FRIENDS!!! -- look, I just did two in one!), and this, reappraise history:
"Yes, you can rewrite history—and feel better about yourself in the bargain. Set aside a little time each week to write about or record—or even just mentally revisit—an important event in your past. Reflecting on the experience can reshape your perception of it, as well as your expectations for the future, says Robert N. Butler, MD, president of the International Longevity Center-USA in New York City. When creating this "life review," you get to list all your accomplishments—an instant self-esteem booster. Organize your historical review by epochs: your postcollege years, early marriage, career, motherhood. Subdivide each section into triumphs, missteps, and lessons for the future.
It's helpful to look at the bad times as well as the good. Perhaps now that a few years have passed, you'll be able to see how that breakup or failed job opportunity opened other doors and finally forgive yourself—and your ex-boyfriend or would-be boss. "Even if a memory is painful, it's good to work through it," says Butler. "If you can come to terms with past events, you'll be better able to handle tough times down the road." So be honest, but also go easy on yourself. Remember: You are the heroine in this tale."
"Yes, you can rewrite history—and feel better about yourself in the bargain. Set aside a little time each week to write about or record—or even just mentally revisit—an important event in your past. Reflecting on the experience can reshape your perception of it, as well as your expectations for the future, says Robert N. Butler, MD, president of the International Longevity Center-USA in New York City. When creating this "life review," you get to list all your accomplishments—an instant self-esteem booster. Organize your historical review by epochs: your postcollege years, early marriage, career, motherhood. Subdivide each section into triumphs, missteps, and lessons for the future.
It's helpful to look at the bad times as well as the good. Perhaps now that a few years have passed, you'll be able to see how that breakup or failed job opportunity opened other doors and finally forgive yourself—and your ex-boyfriend or would-be boss. "Even if a memory is painful, it's good to work through it," says Butler. "If you can come to terms with past events, you'll be better able to handle tough times down the road." So be honest, but also go easy on yourself. Remember: You are the heroine in this tale."
03 October 2007
A Little Humility is Good for Everyone
I think that THIS is a perfectly fitting punishment for an obnoxious teenaged thief. Kudos to her parents!
Still Crying, But Not So Much (the update)
1. Will is gone and I am feeling lonely and a little more hopeful that I will meet someone who deserves me, and vice versa.
1.5 I am only slightly pathetic.
2. Spencer is seeing a shrink (not related to #1). It is going well and I'm hoping that he can stay with me instead of moving in with his dad.
3. My house is now almost completely clean. Furniture is in place and I have begun throwing things out with a fervor.
4. The toilet broke and is now fixed.
5. The ominous "CHECK ENGINE" light on my car is glowing brightly, even after a large repair bill. It is replacing the "CHECK OIL" light, which went out when I got the oil changed. Broken engine mount is fixed.
6. The black circles under my eyes are getting lighter. I'm remembering to take my vitamins since I am basically not eating. 15 pounds and counting since September 14.
7. The carpet has been replaced and, while it is ugly Berber stuff, it certainly looks much better now. The carpet guy was a crazy person.
8. It is getting cold at night. And colder still, which means that I can have fires at night.
9. I can't eat! Remains the same.
10. I am hating my job only a little these days.
11. I am too lazy to look for a new job. Remains the same.
12. My self-esteem is shot but I am in high hopes that I can repair it. Some day I will talk privately with Will about what went wrong, and I believe that this will help me move forward and do it right next time.
13. My cell phone is broken. Remains the same, though I found an old one and am using that for the time being.
14. I have no social life. Remains the same.
15. I am angry with ME for allowing all this shit into my life and for letting it all bug me so much.
1.5 I am only slightly pathetic.
2. Spencer is seeing a shrink (not related to #1). It is going well and I'm hoping that he can stay with me instead of moving in with his dad.
3. My house is now almost completely clean. Furniture is in place and I have begun throwing things out with a fervor.
4. The toilet broke and is now fixed.
5. The ominous "CHECK ENGINE" light on my car is glowing brightly, even after a large repair bill. It is replacing the "CHECK OIL" light, which went out when I got the oil changed. Broken engine mount is fixed.
6. The black circles under my eyes are getting lighter. I'm remembering to take my vitamins since I am basically not eating. 15 pounds and counting since September 14.
7. The carpet has been replaced and, while it is ugly Berber stuff, it certainly looks much better now. The carpet guy was a crazy person.
8. It is getting cold at night. And colder still, which means that I can have fires at night.
9. I can't eat! Remains the same.
10. I am hating my job only a little these days.
11. I am too lazy to look for a new job. Remains the same.
12. My self-esteem is shot but I am in high hopes that I can repair it. Some day I will talk privately with Will about what went wrong, and I believe that this will help me move forward and do it right next time.
13. My cell phone is broken. Remains the same, though I found an old one and am using that for the time being.
14. I have no social life. Remains the same.
15. I am angry with ME for allowing all this shit into my life and for letting it all bug me so much.
02 October 2007
Looking for Suggestions
on what to say in the note I send to Will's mom when I return the engagement rings.
What I WANT to say:
Dear Lois,
Thank you ever so much for raising a fucking asshole who is interested in nothing but his own personal enjoyment and self-satisfaction. He is an alcoholic, self-absorbed fuckwad who ruined my life as I currently know it. Everything happens for a reason, so by some miracle of god your son did me a favor and moved out of my house. Of course, he left me with all the bills to pay, the yard to mow, no assistance whatsoever, and he left without saying goodbye. What he did say was that he's now free to fuck college girls which, BTW, he has been doing. Regardless, the fact that someone who asked me to marry him never really cared at all about me shows just how well he was raised...to be a codependent, useless and altogether non-self-sufficient person. It's very sad and it pains me to realize that I spent 2 years of my life hoping that he would change. It pains me further that my son had to experience a lot of the poor behavior, and even moreso that I still care.
Have a nice day.
Cynthia
What I WILL say (or something close):
Dear Lois,
I regret being in the circumstances that bring me to return these rings to you. I feel badly that things didn't work out as we had hoped. Please know that I think fondly of you and Chuck, and I wish you the best.
Regards,
Cyndy
What I WANT to say:
Dear Lois,
Thank you ever so much for raising a fucking asshole who is interested in nothing but his own personal enjoyment and self-satisfaction. He is an alcoholic, self-absorbed fuckwad who ruined my life as I currently know it. Everything happens for a reason, so by some miracle of god your son did me a favor and moved out of my house. Of course, he left me with all the bills to pay, the yard to mow, no assistance whatsoever, and he left without saying goodbye. What he did say was that he's now free to fuck college girls which, BTW, he has been doing. Regardless, the fact that someone who asked me to marry him never really cared at all about me shows just how well he was raised...to be a codependent, useless and altogether non-self-sufficient person. It's very sad and it pains me to realize that I spent 2 years of my life hoping that he would change. It pains me further that my son had to experience a lot of the poor behavior, and even moreso that I still care.
Have a nice day.
Cynthia
What I WILL say (or something close):
Dear Lois,
I regret being in the circumstances that bring me to return these rings to you. I feel badly that things didn't work out as we had hoped. Please know that I think fondly of you and Chuck, and I wish you the best.
Regards,
Cyndy
28 September 2007
Pooping At Work
Okay, now tears are running down my face for another reason altogether. Holy shit this is funny:
How to Poop at Work
We've all been there but don't like to admit it. We've all kicked back in our cubicles and suddenly felt something brew down below. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the WORK POOP is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work. Memorize these definitions and pooping at work will become a pure pleasure.
ESCAPEE
Definition: a fart that slips out while taking a leak at the urinal or forcing a poop in a stall. This is usually accompanied by a sudden wave of panic embarrassment. This is similar to the hot flash you receive when passing an unseen police car and speeding. If you release an escapee, do not acknowledge it. Pretend it did not happen. If you are standing next to the farter in the urinal, pretend you did not hear it. No one likes an escapee, it is uncomfortable for all involved. Making a joke or laughing makes both parties feel uneasy.
JAILBREAK (Used in conjunction with ESCAPEE)
Definition: When forcing poop, several farts slip out at a machine gun pace. This is usually a side effect of diarrhea or a hangover. If this should happen, do not panic. Remain in the stall until everyone has left the bathroom so to spare everyone the awkwardness of what just occurred.
COURTESY FLUSH
Definition: The act of flushing the toilet the instant the nose cone of the poop log hits the water and the poop is whisked away to an undisclosed location. This reduces the amount of air time the poop has to stink up the bathroom. This can help you avoid being caught doing the WALK OF SHAME.
WALK OF SHAME
Definition: Walking from the stall, to the sink, to the door after you have just stunk up the bathroom. This can be a very uncomfortable moment if someone walks in and busts you. As with all farts, it is best to pretend that the smell does not exist. Can be avoided with the use of the COURTESY FLUSH.
OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER
Definition: A colleague who poops at work and damn proud of it. You will often see an Out Of The Closet Pooper enter the bathroom with a newspaper or magazine under their arm. Always look around the office for the Out Of The Closet Pooper before entering the bathroom.
THE POOPING FRIENDS NETWORK (PFN)
Definition: A group of coworkers who band together to ensure emergency pooping goes off without incident. This group can help you to monitor the whereabouts of Out Of The Closet Poopers, and identify SAFE HAVENS.
SAFE HAVENS
Definition: A seldom used bathroom somewhere in the building where you can least expect visitors. Try floors that are predominantly of the opposite sex. This will reduce the odds of a pooper of your sex entering the bathroom.
TURD BURGLAR
Definition: A pooper who does not realize that you are in the stall and tries to force the door open. This is one of the most shocking and vulnerable moments that can occur when taking a dump at work. If this occurs, remain in the stall until the Turd Burglar leaves. This way you will avoid all uncomfortable eye contact.
CAMO-COUGH
Definition: A phony cough that alerts all new entrants into the bathroom that you are in a stall. This can be used to cover-up a WATERMELON, or to alert potential Turd Burglars. Very effective when used in conjunction with an ASTAIRE.
ASTAIRE
Definition: A subtle toe-tap that is used to alert potential Turd Burglars that you are occupying a stall. This will remove all doubt that the stall is occupied. If you hear an Astaire, leave the bathroom immediately so the pooper can poop in peace.
WATERMELON
Definition: A turd that creates a loud splash when hitting the toilet water. This is also an embarrassing incident. If you feel a Watermelon coming on, create a diversion. See CAMO-COUGH.
HAVANA OMELET
Definition: A load of diarrhea that creates a series of loud splashes in the toilet water. Often accompanied by an Escapee. Try using a Camo-Cough with an Astaire.
UNCLE TED
Definition: A bathroom user who seems to linger around forever. Could spend extended lengths of time in front of the mirror or sitting on the pot. An Uncle Ted makes it difficult to relax while on the crapper, as you should always wait to drop your load when the bathroom is empty. This benefits you as well as the other bathroom attendees.
FLY BY
Definition: The act of scouting out a bathroom before pooping. Walk in and check for other poopers. If there are others in the bathroom, leave and come back again. Be careful not to become a FREQUENT FLYER. People may become suspicious if they catch you constantly going into the bathroom.
How to Poop at Work
We've all been there but don't like to admit it. We've all kicked back in our cubicles and suddenly felt something brew down below. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the WORK POOP is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work. Memorize these definitions and pooping at work will become a pure pleasure.
ESCAPEE
Definition: a fart that slips out while taking a leak at the urinal or forcing a poop in a stall. This is usually accompanied by a sudden wave of panic embarrassment. This is similar to the hot flash you receive when passing an unseen police car and speeding. If you release an escapee, do not acknowledge it. Pretend it did not happen. If you are standing next to the farter in the urinal, pretend you did not hear it. No one likes an escapee, it is uncomfortable for all involved. Making a joke or laughing makes both parties feel uneasy.
JAILBREAK (Used in conjunction with ESCAPEE)
Definition: When forcing poop, several farts slip out at a machine gun pace. This is usually a side effect of diarrhea or a hangover. If this should happen, do not panic. Remain in the stall until everyone has left the bathroom so to spare everyone the awkwardness of what just occurred.
COURTESY FLUSH
Definition: The act of flushing the toilet the instant the nose cone of the poop log hits the water and the poop is whisked away to an undisclosed location. This reduces the amount of air time the poop has to stink up the bathroom. This can help you avoid being caught doing the WALK OF SHAME.
WALK OF SHAME
Definition: Walking from the stall, to the sink, to the door after you have just stunk up the bathroom. This can be a very uncomfortable moment if someone walks in and busts you. As with all farts, it is best to pretend that the smell does not exist. Can be avoided with the use of the COURTESY FLUSH.
OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER
Definition: A colleague who poops at work and damn proud of it. You will often see an Out Of The Closet Pooper enter the bathroom with a newspaper or magazine under their arm. Always look around the office for the Out Of The Closet Pooper before entering the bathroom.
THE POOPING FRIENDS NETWORK (PFN)
Definition: A group of coworkers who band together to ensure emergency pooping goes off without incident. This group can help you to monitor the whereabouts of Out Of The Closet Poopers, and identify SAFE HAVENS.
SAFE HAVENS
Definition: A seldom used bathroom somewhere in the building where you can least expect visitors. Try floors that are predominantly of the opposite sex. This will reduce the odds of a pooper of your sex entering the bathroom.
TURD BURGLAR
Definition: A pooper who does not realize that you are in the stall and tries to force the door open. This is one of the most shocking and vulnerable moments that can occur when taking a dump at work. If this occurs, remain in the stall until the Turd Burglar leaves. This way you will avoid all uncomfortable eye contact.
CAMO-COUGH
Definition: A phony cough that alerts all new entrants into the bathroom that you are in a stall. This can be used to cover-up a WATERMELON, or to alert potential Turd Burglars. Very effective when used in conjunction with an ASTAIRE.
ASTAIRE
Definition: A subtle toe-tap that is used to alert potential Turd Burglars that you are occupying a stall. This will remove all doubt that the stall is occupied. If you hear an Astaire, leave the bathroom immediately so the pooper can poop in peace.
WATERMELON
Definition: A turd that creates a loud splash when hitting the toilet water. This is also an embarrassing incident. If you feel a Watermelon coming on, create a diversion. See CAMO-COUGH.
HAVANA OMELET
Definition: A load of diarrhea that creates a series of loud splashes in the toilet water. Often accompanied by an Escapee. Try using a Camo-Cough with an Astaire.
UNCLE TED
Definition: A bathroom user who seems to linger around forever. Could spend extended lengths of time in front of the mirror or sitting on the pot. An Uncle Ted makes it difficult to relax while on the crapper, as you should always wait to drop your load when the bathroom is empty. This benefits you as well as the other bathroom attendees.
FLY BY
Definition: The act of scouting out a bathroom before pooping. Walk in and check for other poopers. If there are others in the bathroom, leave and come back again. Be careful not to become a FREQUENT FLYER. People may become suspicious if they catch you constantly going into the bathroom.
26 September 2007
Why I Am Still Crying
1. Will is gone and I am feeling lonely and slightly helpless.
1.5 I am pathetic.
2. Spencer is seeing a shrink (not related to #1).
3. My house is a wreck.
4. The toilet broke last night.
5. The ominous "CHECK OIL" light on my car is glowing brightly despite the fact that there is oil in the car.
6. I have black circles under my eyes.
7. The carpet has not yet been replaced.
8. It is getting cold at night.
9. I can't eat!
10. I am hating my job way too much.
11. I am too lazy to look for a new job.
12. My self-esteem is shot.
13. My cell phone is broken.
14. I have no social life.
15. I am angry with ME for allowing all this shit into my life and for letting it all bug me so much.
1.5 I am pathetic.
2. Spencer is seeing a shrink (not related to #1).
3. My house is a wreck.
4. The toilet broke last night.
5. The ominous "CHECK OIL" light on my car is glowing brightly despite the fact that there is oil in the car.
6. I have black circles under my eyes.
7. The carpet has not yet been replaced.
8. It is getting cold at night.
9. I can't eat!
10. I am hating my job way too much.
11. I am too lazy to look for a new job.
12. My self-esteem is shot.
13. My cell phone is broken.
14. I have no social life.
15. I am angry with ME for allowing all this shit into my life and for letting it all bug me so much.
25 September 2007
Fergie Dashes
Miss Girly Girl Fergalicious the First has finally realized that outside is NOT very fun after all. Sometime between last night and this morning at 8, she made her escape. Not sure, really, when it was, but I was much more alert this morning than I was last night, and I didn't see her sneak out the door in the twelve seconds that it took Spencer and I to get out. This may mean that she has ripped a hole in a screen, but I doubt it (she's not that smart). More likely is that she got out last night, which means that she was out in the pouring rain all night and morning, and boy howdy was she ready to come in at 9:15! Spencer and I heard a cat meowing when we left for school but figured that it was the neighbor's earless wonder cat. Her being out all night would explain the freakage of Death Row, who was losing his mind this morning when I got home. Anyhoo, Fergie's back in the house now and very content to stay there as far as I can tell!
24 September 2007
You know what sucks?
Being single. I guess I should have taken MUCH more advantage of the willing, naked man in my bed when I had the chance.
I have realized, much to my chagrin, that being a horndog is directly proportional to how many guys are waiting in line to sleep with you! This must be rectified ASAP.
I was driving home and thought of something funny that happened at work, and remembered that I have no one at home to share it with, and the waterworks have not stopped yet. This being lonely thing can suck it.
I have realized, much to my chagrin, that being a horndog is directly proportional to how many guys are waiting in line to sleep with you! This must be rectified ASAP.
I was driving home and thought of something funny that happened at work, and remembered that I have no one at home to share it with, and the waterworks have not stopped yet. This being lonely thing can suck it.
21 September 2007
Hundred Dollar Bills, Y'All
TGIF. Shit, I have had a hard week.
Good News First:
1. I am not so sad. I'm waiting for the point when I can say, "I have got a date - Friday night at eight - I hardly wait - I cannot be late!" (Nutty Professor, paraphrased)
2. Spencer's leg, aside from some fluid build-up, is fine, as per Dr Koch and an MRI. What they originally thought was a break is actually a bone contusion (aka BRUISE), and the ligaments were stretched but no tears. Hence, no surgery, no cast, no crutches. I swear, if any of the aforementioned options had been fact, I would be running down the street looking for a brick wall to slam my head into.
3. My dad bought tickets for Spencer and I to NYC in December. We're not going for Christmas because a) it's too expensive, b) I hate travelling over holidays, and c) I am not a fan of Christmas. I mean, really, why the hell am I going to spend good money to buy gifts for people I rarely see, just because someone ELSE'S kid was born 2008 years ago? In the immortal words of one fabulous Miss Kathy Griffin, "Jesus can suck it."
4. My meeting with my archenemy co-worker went really well and we are friends again. It's amazing what a little calm, reasonable communication does for a relationship of any sort.
Bad News:
1. I am still sad. Better, but still sad. It's hard to lose your best friend.
2. I just paid all the fucking bills and rent is due in two weeks.
3. The carpet installers never showed up this morning, so there is nasty carpet in my empty living room and all the furniture is jammed into the kitchen. This would be bearable except that I HAVE PEOPLE COMING OVER TOMORROW, GODDAMNIT. I guess we can sit outside. I just called the company and they said that they had to wait because the landlord wanted to get an estimate for cleaning before spending the money for new carpet. Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME??
This is old, white (formerly) carpet we're talking about here, that the previous tenant's dog must have soiled everywhere because there are black stains that have seeped through even after repeated cleanings, and paint spots where they painted the wall -- maroon (yes, they were lesbians). I sent him an email outlining the details of carpet maintenance, and how one cleans it when there is PISS fermenting on the floor below it -- ONE DOESN'T!!! You replace it, and you shut the fuck up because your tenant, who is loyal and has made your yard look better than any other on the block FOR FREE, has been paying $1200 a month since May 2006, and she deserves one damned nice thing in the stupid slum-partment. (post: he just authorized them to replace the carpet. I win.)
4. Spencer is still having issues at school. I am not so convinced that his teacher isn't a little bit menopausal, or PMSal, because she said on Wednesday that he was having a great week, and then yesterday afternoon said (in front of a lot of other kids) that he is so bad that he can't go on their field trip on Monday unless his dad or I chaperone. She also said, "if he spoils it, then they won't let us come back and that will ruin it for all future 5th graders." IN FRONT OF HIS CLASSMATES she said this. Well, it embarrassed poor Spencer to no end, to the point that he was crying by the time we got to the car, and this morning I sent an email to the principal telling him about the situation. I can't fathom that my son is SO BAD that he will ruin things for everyone to the point that King Soopers will never allow a group of schoolchildren to visit their facility again. Damn.
5. CU is playing Miami (OH) in football tomorrow (which is good news) and I don't want to go (that's the bad news). I am emotionally drained and tired, and my Tylenol PM buzzed me out instead of knocking me out last night. I really don't need to see a bunch of old friends when I look like this. I'm sure that they've seen me look worse, but not in the past few years. Ugh. Of course, I must go, and I must go EARLY because Big D is getting into Denver at some ridiculous hour like 7 am, and then we must commence to partying. Tonight is going to be spent shaving, grooming, whitening, digging through the closet, and fighting a sick feeling in my stomach. I haven't been drinking at all (!) because I'm afraid that, just like eating, it will make me puke. Puking = no good, very bad, yucky. So tomorrow should be interesting. Pictures to follow.
18 September 2007
Cheerier
Okay, well, THIS ARTICLE just cheered me right the hell up. In a sick and twisted kind of way, but still.
Revelation
I slept exactly 0.0 minutes last night. My blood pressure was too high, and I kept thinking about things like: I must clean the storage area! I need to stop drinking because I have to save money! I have no one to help me with Spencer! I have no one to sleep with! I have no one to have sex with! I am fat, ugly and stupid! I need to finish painting the kitchen! The whole house needs to be cleaned by Saturday! I have so much work to do - oh, that's right, must order furniture for the intern house, make an Office Depot order, enter that new project, research more data storage options! and on and on and on....every time I closed my eyes, I would see something, and they would shoot back open again. I even had songs running through my head and was reading mental blog posts with my eyes closed, my most recent post included.
SO, this morning at 8:00 I took Spencer to school and came home and slept for an hour. I had the weirdest dream. I woke up like, WOW...well, I hadn't thought about that before. But that short and simple dream made me recognize the point in my life when I started thinking that I wasn't good enough for anyone, and when I started accepting anything that was thrown at me, no matter how much it smashed my self-esteem. I realize that it's no one's fault but my own, for taking everything so personally and assuming that I deserve to be treated that way. I think, back then, I wanted the drama. Now it's a habit.
The dream: I was in my old bedroom. My parents were in another room of the house. Out of nowhere, my bedroom door shot open, and in fell (literally) my first and former boyfriend, Paul. He was naked. I laughed and said that he needed to put some damned clothes on because my parents were right there. He was smoking a cigarette, but for some reason that didn't bother me. Paul handed me a folder, and it was filled with things he wrote/painted for me. One of them was a purple piece of construction paper, with a bright yellow/red/orange sun painted in the middle and said, in silver marker, CYNDY IS #1!! #1 WOMAN!!, all over it. There were other things, like poems, in the folder, but that's what I recall most vividly. He sat there smoking and drunk, and asked me when we were going to get married. And, in my dream, I got very very sad because I realized that he didn't really mean any of it at all, just like in real life.
Here's some Paul history: we met when I was 17 and he was 21, and I thought he was SO CUTE. And I thought he thought that *I* was SO CUTE, but really he was on drugs and I could have been Phyllis Diller for all it mattered. I went to his friend's house with him and we made out all night. Nothing more, though he did do something that evening that I have never seen before or again (no, I'm not telling). I thought he was the shit. Too bad that he was married (briefly, he got her pregnant) and lived far away (25 miles is far when you have to ask to borrow the car from your mom and then pay for gas).
In the spring when I was 22, I ran into him again at a bar, and we hooked up that night. We continued seeing each other for a while, but I had to go back to college...he came with me. After about three weeks of witnessing his childish behavior and dealing with his obvious and scary addiction(s), and feeling uncomfortable in my own home, I kicked him out.
I should have known better when I think back on the fact that, at 26, he had no car, no job and his parents gave him money and bought him shirts for job interviews. He never once looked for a job when we lived together. All he did was sit around the house drinking cheap beer and watching talk shows. If he went out, he made inappropriate comments and hit on other women right in front of me. When I made him leave my house, I had to drive him to his mom's house in Michigan and drop him off with all his stuff. I felt such relief driving back home, but also guilt. It was as if I blamed myself for his situation because I couldn't make him "better." I started thinking about when I would see him again -- and I wasn't even home yet from dropping his worthless ass off!
A couple years after that, I sent him a birthday card. What I got in response was a nasty letter from his current girlfriend, saying that he didn't remember me, and that I should never attempt to contact him again. Of course, that was bullshit, but whatever. I went on my way, lived with another alcoholic, had Spencer, etc.
Some ten years later, I received an email from Paul. Ahhh, technology. We started talking on the phone and he would tell me about his kids and impending divorce and talk to me in a way that we had never communicated before. I even talked to his wife a few times; they were merely living together at that point and were more friends than anything. He began talking about how miserable he was in Michigan and how he would love to be in Boulder. He said that he had really cleaned up his act, and he sounded sincere. I told him that he could stay with me if he moved here, until he found his own place. I was so excited to have my cute boyfriend back -- yeah, the one who had previously shown no respect for me at all!
Well (even though it's too late now), to make a long story short, he came to Boulder that summer. He planned to arrive on a specific day but didn't show up. He called the next day, saying something about a delayed flight. When I picked him up at the airport, I could see immediately that I wasn't ready for this. His eyes were bright yellow from jaundice, all his wordly possessions were in two bags, and he reeked. I found out later that he had had an alcoholic seizure in the Dallas airport, and that's why he was late...they took him to the indigent hospital overnight for tests (I found the results in a closet one day - "severe alcoholism, cirrhosis, seizure disease due to alcoholism"...at 40 years old...scary). The second day he was in Boulder, I went to work and he got drunk. DRUNK drunk. Thank God that Spencer was with his dad. Paul was passed out on the couch when I got home, and I couldn't wake him up, so I called an ambulance. In the meantime, I located a garbage bag full of beer cans and an empty fifth of vodka in the kitchen. He drank a CASE of beer and a pint of vodka in ONE DAY. The cops came, the ambulance came, the fire truck came...and they took him out of my house. While an officer was asking me some questions, Paul spat on me. And, still, I packed up his stuff and drove it to the detox center they took him to because I didn't want him to feel lost. The officer wouldn't let me bring the stuff in the building, because he thought that Paul was a danger to me.
Two days later, he was sitting on my doorstep. He had gotten out of detox the day before and immediately got drunk. In the process, he lost his luggage and wallet. I let him in the house and helped make arrangements for him to leave on the bus for another ex's place in Florida (I told her the facts and she still wanted him back and I thought she was SO stupid). I have never seen him again, though his ex-wife sent Christmas cards for a while. I guess she felt bad about sending him my way, but I understand why she did. She wanted him gone and I wanted him back, same as the chick in Florida. Patterns, patterns...
My point in all this blather is that my dream helped me recognize that my pattern of unhealthy relationships started a long, long time ago with Paul. He was the most severe case, but it has always been basically the same. I will do almost anything to keep a partner around, mainly because I'm afraid I will not find anyone else. There has never been a case in my life when I have had a partner who would do anything for me, to make things work out and really TRY. Never. Every single one of them has been dysfunctional to the point that communication is basically a non-issue unless I instigate it, and when I do is when I get hurt, so I avoid doing it. That's saying something really harsh about me, and I see that. Until now, I have always thought that I was being a nice person, doing things for people who treat me like shit, but now I see it's just pathetic on my part. It's time for me to start over again, with a new attitude and respect for myself.
SO, this morning at 8:00 I took Spencer to school and came home and slept for an hour. I had the weirdest dream. I woke up like, WOW...well, I hadn't thought about that before. But that short and simple dream made me recognize the point in my life when I started thinking that I wasn't good enough for anyone, and when I started accepting anything that was thrown at me, no matter how much it smashed my self-esteem. I realize that it's no one's fault but my own, for taking everything so personally and assuming that I deserve to be treated that way. I think, back then, I wanted the drama. Now it's a habit.
The dream: I was in my old bedroom. My parents were in another room of the house. Out of nowhere, my bedroom door shot open, and in fell (literally) my first and former boyfriend, Paul. He was naked. I laughed and said that he needed to put some damned clothes on because my parents were right there. He was smoking a cigarette, but for some reason that didn't bother me. Paul handed me a folder, and it was filled with things he wrote/painted for me. One of them was a purple piece of construction paper, with a bright yellow/red/orange sun painted in the middle and said, in silver marker, CYNDY IS #1!! #1 WOMAN!!, all over it. There were other things, like poems, in the folder, but that's what I recall most vividly. He sat there smoking and drunk, and asked me when we were going to get married. And, in my dream, I got very very sad because I realized that he didn't really mean any of it at all, just like in real life.
Here's some Paul history: we met when I was 17 and he was 21, and I thought he was SO CUTE. And I thought he thought that *I* was SO CUTE, but really he was on drugs and I could have been Phyllis Diller for all it mattered. I went to his friend's house with him and we made out all night. Nothing more, though he did do something that evening that I have never seen before or again (no, I'm not telling). I thought he was the shit. Too bad that he was married (briefly, he got her pregnant) and lived far away (25 miles is far when you have to ask to borrow the car from your mom and then pay for gas).
In the spring when I was 22, I ran into him again at a bar, and we hooked up that night. We continued seeing each other for a while, but I had to go back to college...he came with me. After about three weeks of witnessing his childish behavior and dealing with his obvious and scary addiction(s), and feeling uncomfortable in my own home, I kicked him out.
I should have known better when I think back on the fact that, at 26, he had no car, no job and his parents gave him money and bought him shirts for job interviews. He never once looked for a job when we lived together. All he did was sit around the house drinking cheap beer and watching talk shows. If he went out, he made inappropriate comments and hit on other women right in front of me. When I made him leave my house, I had to drive him to his mom's house in Michigan and drop him off with all his stuff. I felt such relief driving back home, but also guilt. It was as if I blamed myself for his situation because I couldn't make him "better." I started thinking about when I would see him again -- and I wasn't even home yet from dropping his worthless ass off!
A couple years after that, I sent him a birthday card. What I got in response was a nasty letter from his current girlfriend, saying that he didn't remember me, and that I should never attempt to contact him again. Of course, that was bullshit, but whatever. I went on my way, lived with another alcoholic, had Spencer, etc.
Some ten years later, I received an email from Paul. Ahhh, technology. We started talking on the phone and he would tell me about his kids and impending divorce and talk to me in a way that we had never communicated before. I even talked to his wife a few times; they were merely living together at that point and were more friends than anything. He began talking about how miserable he was in Michigan and how he would love to be in Boulder. He said that he had really cleaned up his act, and he sounded sincere. I told him that he could stay with me if he moved here, until he found his own place. I was so excited to have my cute boyfriend back -- yeah, the one who had previously shown no respect for me at all!
Well (even though it's too late now), to make a long story short, he came to Boulder that summer. He planned to arrive on a specific day but didn't show up. He called the next day, saying something about a delayed flight. When I picked him up at the airport, I could see immediately that I wasn't ready for this. His eyes were bright yellow from jaundice, all his wordly possessions were in two bags, and he reeked. I found out later that he had had an alcoholic seizure in the Dallas airport, and that's why he was late...they took him to the indigent hospital overnight for tests (I found the results in a closet one day - "severe alcoholism, cirrhosis, seizure disease due to alcoholism"...at 40 years old...scary). The second day he was in Boulder, I went to work and he got drunk. DRUNK drunk. Thank God that Spencer was with his dad. Paul was passed out on the couch when I got home, and I couldn't wake him up, so I called an ambulance. In the meantime, I located a garbage bag full of beer cans and an empty fifth of vodka in the kitchen. He drank a CASE of beer and a pint of vodka in ONE DAY. The cops came, the ambulance came, the fire truck came...and they took him out of my house. While an officer was asking me some questions, Paul spat on me. And, still, I packed up his stuff and drove it to the detox center they took him to because I didn't want him to feel lost. The officer wouldn't let me bring the stuff in the building, because he thought that Paul was a danger to me.
Two days later, he was sitting on my doorstep. He had gotten out of detox the day before and immediately got drunk. In the process, he lost his luggage and wallet. I let him in the house and helped make arrangements for him to leave on the bus for another ex's place in Florida (I told her the facts and she still wanted him back and I thought she was SO stupid). I have never seen him again, though his ex-wife sent Christmas cards for a while. I guess she felt bad about sending him my way, but I understand why she did. She wanted him gone and I wanted him back, same as the chick in Florida. Patterns, patterns...
My point in all this blather is that my dream helped me recognize that my pattern of unhealthy relationships started a long, long time ago with Paul. He was the most severe case, but it has always been basically the same. I will do almost anything to keep a partner around, mainly because I'm afraid I will not find anyone else. There has never been a case in my life when I have had a partner who would do anything for me, to make things work out and really TRY. Never. Every single one of them has been dysfunctional to the point that communication is basically a non-issue unless I instigate it, and when I do is when I get hurt, so I avoid doing it. That's saying something really harsh about me, and I see that. Until now, I have always thought that I was being a nice person, doing things for people who treat me like shit, but now I see it's just pathetic on my part. It's time for me to start over again, with a new attitude and respect for myself.
17 September 2007
Well, Now I Know...
...what it feels like a) to be treated like complete shit, and b) the true meaning of "he's really just not that into you." And it is sickening and very, very painful to realize that someone for whom you still care deeply JUST DOESN'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU. I thought long and hard before typing that sentence, mostly because it hurts a lot to see it in print. I need to remember to not take it personally.
I have a big pile of his stuff sitting by my back door that keeps me on the verge of tears and reminds me just how horribly I have been treated and simply put up with it. Can you believe I packed for him --and washed his dirty clothes in the process -- because he wouldn't come home to face the situation? He just didn't come home. We're on Night Four.
This is NOT how love is supposed to be, but I can see now how people end up in emotionally abusive relationships (no, there was not *intentional* abuse in our relationship). I just kept letting him hurt me and disrespect me, because I obviously have no respect for myself. I am a goddamned doormat. As I sit here with my blood pressure through the ceiling and my stomach aching and tears in my eyes, I see it all very clearly, and it sucks major ass for me. I believe that I wrote almost exactly the same thing not so long ago, so obviously the fact that I was being treated like shit didn't matter enough to me.
I can't believe that I kept trying, that I offered to talk so many times, but he either came home drunk or simply avoided me. Or both. What was I thinking by dragging it out??? I guess I was hoping that it would work, that he would change, that something would be different the next day, because I truly love this guy -- for who I *know* he can be, not the person who came home drunk and was rude and acted like a child. Therefore, I did my part in avoiding, too, but for different reasons.
I should have ended it all in August 2005, when we were first dating, when he came home on drugs, or when (on two different occasions) he left pot in the living room and porn in the DVD player, both of which were found by Spencer. Or on any number of the days when he avoided me because it was easier that way. But no, instead I let him move in with us because he was in a bad roommate situation. And I have been enabling and getting my heart stomped on ever since. See earlier posts for specific examples.
Also, I see now that something is seriously wrong with him, and he's avoiding that, too...not sure if it's depression, but it certainly has much to do with the drinking. As someone who over-imbibes on a regular basis myself yet manages to keep my shit together, and knowing many others who do the same, I can see that his issue is not just the booze. Something is making him behave this way. Maybe it's me. Regardless, it's painful and sad and stressful to watch, and even more so to be on the receiving end of the frustration. I would love to see him function as a grown-up and take responsibility for himself, but I'm pretty sure that it's not going to happen soon. I don't have the energy to drown myself in anger any longer by letting him stay in my life the way he is right now.
I wish that he could love himself, mostly, because there's a great guy in there. It's just that the layers on top have gotten so thick that he's going to have to work really hard to cut through them, and it is very apparent that he isn't ready. And this hurts my heart a LOT, for him and me. And for the lawn, which will suffer indeed. I would be willing to be friends when he's healthier. I would be willing to be more, probably, if the situation were different. But, since I doubt that will happen, I will miss forever the way our bodies fit together and the perfect spooning.
When I told Spencer this afternoon that it's just the two of us now, he asked me if I found any drugs or dirty magazines in the closet. Sigh.
My email to a friend this morning:
"Will and I went to dinner on Friday and had a relatively good time. Then we made the mistake of going to the Pub. About a half hour after he went downstairs to play pool, a mutual friend came upstairs and told that I ought to know that Will was down there talking about how happy he is to be free of me, and how now he can chase chicks (Will was much ruder than that, apparently, but I can’t bring myself to type it or I’ll cry). Whether or not he means it is beside the point...I read him the riot act, and went home. He hasn’t been home since. I was meeting some friends at the Pub the next day and saw him but we didn’t speak. Same for Sunday, when I met a friend to watch the Broncos game. I brought Will his phone and toothbrush, but just set them down and walked away. He didn’t make a move to speak to me. One thing he’s not going to do is make it uncomfortable for me to go to the Pub, and I guess he knows that now! I have no idea where he’s been staying or how he’s finding clean clothes....my guess is that he will pick up his stuff when I’m not home, and that we will never speak to each other again."
I have a big pile of his stuff sitting by my back door that keeps me on the verge of tears and reminds me just how horribly I have been treated and simply put up with it. Can you believe I packed for him --and washed his dirty clothes in the process -- because he wouldn't come home to face the situation? He just didn't come home. We're on Night Four.
This is NOT how love is supposed to be, but I can see now how people end up in emotionally abusive relationships (no, there was not *intentional* abuse in our relationship). I just kept letting him hurt me and disrespect me, because I obviously have no respect for myself. I am a goddamned doormat. As I sit here with my blood pressure through the ceiling and my stomach aching and tears in my eyes, I see it all very clearly, and it sucks major ass for me. I believe that I wrote almost exactly the same thing not so long ago, so obviously the fact that I was being treated like shit didn't matter enough to me.
I can't believe that I kept trying, that I offered to talk so many times, but he either came home drunk or simply avoided me. Or both. What was I thinking by dragging it out??? I guess I was hoping that it would work, that he would change, that something would be different the next day, because I truly love this guy -- for who I *know* he can be, not the person who came home drunk and was rude and acted like a child. Therefore, I did my part in avoiding, too, but for different reasons.
I should have ended it all in August 2005, when we were first dating, when he came home on drugs, or when (on two different occasions) he left pot in the living room and porn in the DVD player, both of which were found by Spencer. Or on any number of the days when he avoided me because it was easier that way. But no, instead I let him move in with us because he was in a bad roommate situation. And I have been enabling and getting my heart stomped on ever since. See earlier posts for specific examples.
Also, I see now that something is seriously wrong with him, and he's avoiding that, too...not sure if it's depression, but it certainly has much to do with the drinking. As someone who over-imbibes on a regular basis myself yet manages to keep my shit together, and knowing many others who do the same, I can see that his issue is not just the booze. Something is making him behave this way. Maybe it's me. Regardless, it's painful and sad and stressful to watch, and even more so to be on the receiving end of the frustration. I would love to see him function as a grown-up and take responsibility for himself, but I'm pretty sure that it's not going to happen soon. I don't have the energy to drown myself in anger any longer by letting him stay in my life the way he is right now.
I wish that he could love himself, mostly, because there's a great guy in there. It's just that the layers on top have gotten so thick that he's going to have to work really hard to cut through them, and it is very apparent that he isn't ready. And this hurts my heart a LOT, for him and me. And for the lawn, which will suffer indeed. I would be willing to be friends when he's healthier. I would be willing to be more, probably, if the situation were different. But, since I doubt that will happen, I will miss forever the way our bodies fit together and the perfect spooning.
When I told Spencer this afternoon that it's just the two of us now, he asked me if I found any drugs or dirty magazines in the closet. Sigh.
My email to a friend this morning:
"Will and I went to dinner on Friday and had a relatively good time. Then we made the mistake of going to the Pub. About a half hour after he went downstairs to play pool, a mutual friend came upstairs and told that I ought to know that Will was down there talking about how happy he is to be free of me, and how now he can chase chicks (Will was much ruder than that, apparently, but I can’t bring myself to type it or I’ll cry). Whether or not he means it is beside the point...I read him the riot act, and went home. He hasn’t been home since. I was meeting some friends at the Pub the next day and saw him but we didn’t speak. Same for Sunday, when I met a friend to watch the Broncos game. I brought Will his phone and toothbrush, but just set them down and walked away. He didn’t make a move to speak to me. One thing he’s not going to do is make it uncomfortable for me to go to the Pub, and I guess he knows that now! I have no idea where he’s been staying or how he’s finding clean clothes....my guess is that he will pick up his stuff when I’m not home, and that we will never speak to each other again."
13 September 2007
Bad day
So, after a lovely day at work during which a co-worker, notorious for her complete lack of social skills, yelled at me and made me cry...and I couldn't stop until this morning...Will and I had a talk last night...actually, I had the talk and he stared at the Food Network, except for when he was telling me that I was wrong. He didn't respond when I told him that I would still be willing to work on things -- but, once he walks out that door with his belongings, that's the end. I don't do "back together" because it ends up being "apart again" soon enough and it adds that much more pain to the already feeble heart.
He said he wants to remain friends, and I said that I will remain friendly, but not friends. I will give him a nice smile when I see him and I will be polite to his dates, should I run into that situation. And then I will probably turn around, go home, and cry, at least for a while. Time heals, right?
Who knew how painful this would be, especially considering how pissed I have been at him and how relieved I know I will be when he’s out of the house and I can stop worrying about his drunken, disrespectful, hurtful behavior? I will certainly miss his company a lot of the time, and it will be hard to not wait for him for dinner, and the bed will be very big and cold.
And now I'm crying again. Too much stress at one time...kid with an injury and a bad attitude at school, feeling pulled all directions at work and hence feeling miserably incompetent at all of it, and now a break-up of a 2+ year relationship and pseudo-engagement (yes, I had ringS. I gave them back last spring because I realized that he never meant to marry me. I figured it out when my pregnancy scare turned out to be just that, and he did tequila shots in celebration while I cried).
At least I should lose some weight out of the deal, given that I have had about two bites of food since Monday and I walk all the time to burn off some heartache. I haven't felt hungry. Mostly all I've felt is sadness and anger and stress and pain, which is really not very healthy. The only thing that would help -- right this minute -- is if Mr Perfect came out of the woodwork declaring love and bestowing gratitude for my existance, which would be such a stark comparison that I wouldn't be able to help cheering up on the spot. And I am NOT saying that I need a man. I just need to be shown the light in such a humongous way that it's like a slap in the face -- I DESERVE BETTER.
He said he wants to remain friends, and I said that I will remain friendly, but not friends. I will give him a nice smile when I see him and I will be polite to his dates, should I run into that situation. And then I will probably turn around, go home, and cry, at least for a while. Time heals, right?
Who knew how painful this would be, especially considering how pissed I have been at him and how relieved I know I will be when he’s out of the house and I can stop worrying about his drunken, disrespectful, hurtful behavior? I will certainly miss his company a lot of the time, and it will be hard to not wait for him for dinner, and the bed will be very big and cold.
And now I'm crying again. Too much stress at one time...kid with an injury and a bad attitude at school, feeling pulled all directions at work and hence feeling miserably incompetent at all of it, and now a break-up of a 2+ year relationship and pseudo-engagement (yes, I had ringS. I gave them back last spring because I realized that he never meant to marry me. I figured it out when my pregnancy scare turned out to be just that, and he did tequila shots in celebration while I cried).
At least I should lose some weight out of the deal, given that I have had about two bites of food since Monday and I walk all the time to burn off some heartache. I haven't felt hungry. Mostly all I've felt is sadness and anger and stress and pain, which is really not very healthy. The only thing that would help -- right this minute -- is if Mr Perfect came out of the woodwork declaring love and bestowing gratitude for my existance, which would be such a stark comparison that I wouldn't be able to help cheering up on the spot. And I am NOT saying that I need a man. I just need to be shown the light in such a humongous way that it's like a slap in the face -- I DESERVE BETTER.
11 September 2007
Oh WOW
Now THIS is a lovely and talented bunch. I'm guessing the mean IQ of all six of them is about 45. Jesus H. And WTF is up with MSN using the term "N-word" a million times and reporting that it "might be a hate crime?" NO FUCKING DUH it was a hate crime! How do people like that exist in this world? I think we should bring back lynching but reverse the roles -- let's make it legal for Black people to put on black robes with pointy hats and chase down ignorant redneck hillbillies, and string them up from trees and then cut their balls off and stuff them in their mouths, before pulling the bench out from underneath their feet. Paybacks are a bitch.
News, briefly...
1. Spencer fractured his tibia last week at football practice. Season over. No cast, but he's on crutches and isn't supposed to put weight on the leg. More x-rays in 10 days; if it isn't healing, then they will cast it. Pictures to follow.
2. Spencer has been rude to his teacher lately and hence has been put on a daily behavior rating scale of 1 (bad) to 5 (best). If he gets three 1's between now and the end of the school year, she's kicking him out of her class. His dad and I have been discussing moving him down there for school. He's seeing a shrink (we all are) next Weds.
3. Will is moving out on Friday.
4. I am facing about $1100 a month more in bills.
5. My blood pressure is through the roof.
2. Spencer has been rude to his teacher lately and hence has been put on a daily behavior rating scale of 1 (bad) to 5 (best). If he gets three 1's between now and the end of the school year, she's kicking him out of her class. His dad and I have been discussing moving him down there for school. He's seeing a shrink (we all are) next Weds.
3. Will is moving out on Friday.
4. I am facing about $1100 a month more in bills.
5. My blood pressure is through the roof.
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