Monday, September 25, 2006

What a lovely fall day...

I'm getting excited for fall, people. It hit really quick this year, and that breeze hitting my face is way yummy. I've been driving home with all my windows rolled down, and those little beams of sunlight hitting my cheeks...the little frizzy hairs on my forehead lifting up with the air....wow.

I'll update soon with pics of Charky's birthday, the Ellijay Apple Festival, and Halloween.
Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Sunday, September 24, 2006


Check it

Fall in Crittersville

Thursday, September 21, 2006

I'm a Material Girl

So I thought I'd admit my naughty behavior for the day. I was vain. I loved riding in my boss' brand new Porsche Carrera. I loved having my BCBG shoes complimented because they were the nicest shoes I had seen so far that day. I enjoy going out to eat at lunch - for free - at nice places.

I need to volunteer or something. What a stupid materialistic wench I'm becoming.

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Let me tell you about my favorite thing: Me

Just in case I don't update y'all enough about who I am where I am and where I'm going....let me tell you some more.

I'm fucking tired of all you people acting like adults. Quit being so damn serious. Open your heart up and drop your guard. Dump all of that bullshit you call baggage and smile a little. Laugh at how stupid you are.

Eat a lollipop. Or better yet, an ice cream cone. And don't you dare count the fat grams or calories. Just eat it. And enjoy that feeling you had as a little kid, on a windy fall day, when a ice cream cone could make you feel giggly.

Turn on some old school funk and shake your butt. In front of adults. Preferably in front of a restaurant. With a friend. Shake and shake and shake until your thighs hurt and the corners of your mouth sting from giggling and smiling too much. Enjoy the cheers and applauds you get from onlookers.

Pull a Calvin and draw a picture of black bears attacking a black forest campground at midnight - and borrow your kid's black crayon. Laugh some more, because your crayola pictures still suck.

Call someone out of the blue that you haven't talked to in a long time. Apologize/make amends/or whatever, then tell them how wonderful they are. Like a little kid, offer one of your new favorite toys. Like your ipod. Or your new CD. Laugh because you aren't so serious you feel comfortable enough with yourself to call someone unexpectedly like that.

Find a former flame on MySpace. Preferably someone who you still kind of have bad blood with. Tell them they are great, because they helped make you who you are. You wouldn't be the most fantastic lover in the world without them. Then laugh, because I know that person made you smile once. You can still think they are funny.

I forgive all of you out there who are unable to live your miserable little pathetic existences without any glee. Or joy. Or laughter. Those of you who choose to be adult about everything. You can't even laugh about burping, or passing gas anymore. What fun are you?

I forgive all of you out there who "grew up and found out who I am". If you did, your life is half over and there isn't much left to enjoy. You are a constantly evolving changing creature who will never, ever stop learning and loving and laughing. Because when you do, you die.

So chase a fucking butterfly, shake your ass at strangers, and put your hair into pigtails. Because you can. And it feels sooooo much better to enjoy this life than it does to pretend, doesn't it?


Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Sunday, September 17, 2006



No more monkey mind

The Three Things Bothering Me Today

Current Mood: A little scared. Definitely vulnerable.

Reason #1: I'm pretty sure I'm having a miscarriage. Started day before yesterday, and I think it's almost over. I was surprised at how it hurt much less than having an abortion. Food for thought, unexpectedly pregnant-women world-round. Perhaps the old way of inducing abortion with teas made of herbs and flowers is the right way.

Anyway, I don't have medical insurance this week, as I'm between jobs. Heh. Z keeps telling me he's all worried I need to go have a D&C. I told him that a douche will work just fine, thanks, I don't need a $1K hospital bill. I think Crittersville Medical Center may cut me off soon, anyway. I'm always late paying their outrageous bills that aren't ever covered by insurance. And I can't keep saying, "well it's a life or death thing. I could die if I don't get seen by a Doc." In truth - it's always a life or death thing, isn't it?
---------------------
Reason #2: I start my new job tomorrow. And while I know this is a great opportunity and I know I'm doing the right thing I'm still a little frightened. It's very hard to get stuck in a rut - a dysfunctional, psychologically trying rut at that - and then all of a sudden just leave that dysfunction. Now I'm moving onto a new job, where I'm trying to remain optimistic that I'm not going to have to acclimate to different kinds of dysfunction. With my already dysfunctional self.
----------------------
Reason #3: I found my two ex-best-friends online, on MySpace. Don't get me started on how MySpace sucks and is for the followers. Anyway, I found both. One of them I lost only pretty recently - three or four years ago. Haven't spoken to him since. Don't really have an urge to talk to him. I think the last time I got hurt by him was enough. I know when to walk away from punishment. I'm not a sadist or anything. However, seeing his page was disconcerting to say the least. All kinds of questions are raised. "Do you think of me?" "Do you regret knowing me?" "Are you sorry for anything that transpired between us?" "Do you know that I protect your memory by not talking about you - that everyone who knows you says untruths about you? They do this because they don't really know you. But I do."

My other ex-best-friend dumped me when I was sixteen. We had kept up our relationship long distance, between here and California. I admitted to her, on the phone, that I was a cokehead. And she didn't like it. Quit talking to me altogether.

Over the years this loss hurt. A lot. For example, several of my close friends here know of her and ask of her often - "Do you still talk to L?" "Has she called you?". I don't lie - I tell them why she didn't want to speak to me. I understand the whole I-can't-be-close-to-this-person-because-it-hurts-to-see-them-self-destruct concept. Shit, I've practically lived it with every friend I know. But I gotta tell you, it still hurts to miss someone for that long.

I remember it first became an issue when I became incredibly close with my current best friend (See * www.transplantedgirl.blogspot.com for reference). I had a really hard time calling her that because I had a best friend, you see. She just didn't have me.

The second time it bothered me was when I was giving birth to Charky. My husband wouldn't be there - he said he couldn't watch. My sister-in-law was there, and all of a sudden she asked if she could stay in the room while I gave birth. I was a little disconcerted - I mean, who wants their sister-in-law to see that???Ew. But I gave in. When I told the nurse it was okay I started to cry. I knew who I wanted to be there, holding my hand. And she wasn't. Because we weren't friends any longer.

Anyway, I thought I had found her online at MySpace. So I sent her a message, just asking if it was really her and commenting that I needed to make amends.

And she replied back. Guardedly. "How are You" typed out in an email sounds so insincere...trite, you know?

Or am I making more of a big deal of this than it really is? Were we not that close? I've been accused of hanging onto the memory of people for too long...and too emotionally. Was it nutty for me to miss her for the past decade? Was it nutty for me to feel like my life wasn't really happening because she wasn't part of it? Is it nutty for me to feel like I was just hit in the head by a two x four, that my life is veering on some weird course I wasn't prepared for?

I don't know the answers. And I don't know how to reply back to her message. I feel bitter about the whole thing. Accusatory. Like, "Where the fuck were you?" "What makes you so fucking special that you can't stick around when times are bad?" "Did you know that it got worse - that at that particular time - what you were afraid of was actually the beginning of the end?" or "I'm sorry I was such a fuckup. I didn't know that my being a fuckup was a good reason for those who love me to quit loving me."

I need a valium. And a margarita. And a bottle of Smirnoff. Because I hurt and I want to blunt it right now. My anxiety of miscarrying - losing yet another fetus from a man I really love. My anxiety of finding two people that I was probably a lot happier not knowing where to find them. My anxiety about a new job tomorrow, when I'm smack dab in the middle of a crying jag.

Aaaarrrghhh.

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Contemplating the Blog

In the past few years I've used my blog as a casual, albeit guarded vent. I fear for those who spill their guts on the web. Anyone can read it, and anyone with a little skill can look you up and find out what an eejit you are. Isn't protecting your inner feelings - as a skill - a sign of adulthood? Only little kids tell the truth all the time unabashedly.

My perspective is changing. For several years I've been living under a motto of personal honesty. Since I was a little kid I was told by my Dad - stop caring what other people think. They're too damn selfish to pay attention to you anyway.

And Dad, I think you are right. I'm hanging onto so much baggage...crap that adults hold onto like a bank safe. Adults don't talk about their transgressions. Their faults. Adults don't reveal that they are humans living the human condition.

Well fuck that. I'm tired of being an adult. I'm tired of acting like an adult. Only with childish glee and excitement do we really get close to the feelings that come with tripping on acid. And I'm a true believer that some of that giggling-crying-jag stuff that comes with an LSD trip does in fact bring you closer to God.

So enlightenment must become priority #1. And with that, I need to stop using my blog as a way to casually socialize with other adults online. No more. I need to take advantage. I've always been one of those people who can't keep a journal because I go back, reread what I wrote last year, feel ashamed and hate myself for being such an eejit. I know I can do that here on blogspot - edit out posts I don't like - but I haven't really taken advantage of that kind of editing tool. I feel comfortable keeping it real.

I'm now beginning on a new blogging path. I'm going to be unabashedly frank and honest, because, like that You Tube movie, "What We Are": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a15KgyXBX24, I am a monkey who tries to sit on a couch and spill my guts with another monkey. And somehow, watching that You Tube movie, spilling my guts to a monkey seems gay.

So be prepared, people. You may want to dump 'Anywhere But Here' as one of your favorites. Because I'm going all out. Tales of cocaine addiction, alcoholism, and blowjobs. Tales of what a shitty friend I am. Tales of how I am a liar.

Restraint is something created in our monkey mind. I'm over it.

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Monday, September 11, 2006

"Today is the greatest"....Billy Corgan

Time for an update, my peeps. More More More Mental Ramblings with a certain proviso -
* Blood Sugar 391 and holding. Mental state: A Little scattered.

- Suri Cruise is indeed a Cruise or Holmes spawn. You people need help. That poor baby is just another one of those ugly babies with a lot of hair. She wasn't the model in Sears commercials 3 years ago (as I heard last week). It's still up in the air whether Suri is a true genetic child of both the cult-goers, but leave the poor kid alone. She's kind of cute.

- I am so incredibly glad Vincent got kicked off of Project Runway. Now for Laura. She sucks. It's one thing to be an incredibly accomplished Audrey-Hepburn-esque costume designer, but she hasn't a creative innovative bone in her body. Dammit to hell. I even liked trailer trash Kayne's gold monstrosity of a couture gown this week. If the dang criss-cross ribboning on the back hadn't have been cut at an angle, it would have been perfect. Very Stephanie Seymour. Screw Laura.

- Charky's first pair of glasses are ultra cute. Kind of cat-eyeish, and metallic purple. I'll post a pic soon.

- Since I'm off work this week, I get to see Nip/Tuck on Tuesday @ 10 PM!!!!!

- My parent's new dog is 6 months old now, and weighs 58 lbs. Ouch.

- Don't ever buy "Sweet" Italian sausage. It sucks too.

- If you ever buy those frozen green beans, get the ones in the "steamable" pack. You don't necessarily have to steam it like they say, but they are way better than any others I've had.

Love y'all. When I'm more sane I'll catch up further...





Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

clenched jaw boys born in 1988

A Man's Mental Age; Or, How I Am NOT Attracted to Jailbait

Z bears the mental age of about 17. I know I've mentioned in previous times that I believe men have a static, perpetual mental age, usually somewhere between 6 and 14. I'm lucky enough to have found a man who is stuck at 17, because these are among the most emotionally "adult".

The Idealized Static Age 17:

Truly appreciates women. Has some sexual experience, enough to know that a woman enjoying sex makes your own orgasm thirty times better. Is starting to figure out when women fake it.

Still engaged in little boy bad behavior (smoking,drinking,drugs, bars, metal) but has figured out what kind of bad behavior will send one to jail. Thusly, Static Age 17 knows boundaries.

After a few teen years of emotional frigidity - ie., "I just want to stick my penis in you. Don't touch me. Don't hug me. Don't kiss my body. Just let me grab your tits and I'll do the rest of the work." - this static age has actually come back to intimate embraces of the non-sexual kind. Enjoys the wanton cuddliness of children and puppies. Treats women as same.

Interests include being lazy. Competitive sports are usually those that require no physical exertion. Appreciated movies are truly that which entice 17-year olds.

--------------------------------------------------------

As a result, my pseudo-17 year old lover likes movies of a certain genre. Violence, but in a fantasized way. Lots of action. And shots of ass.

Z's birthday was Friday, and as a result, he picked this weekend's movie.
The Covenant.

The Covenant, in case you haven't seen the trailers, is like The Craft, but for this generation of supernatural-loving teens.

Starring four hot "18 year olds" with impossibly cut tummies (I've never seen an 18 year old with ridges and veins that defined), I didn't mind. Fine. So the plot sucks. And the realization of the plot, in terms of how the movie pans out, sucked too. I have plenty of opportunities to ogle eyecandy. It's like people-watching at the beach. No interaction, but you see plenty to keep yourself amused.

Unfortunately I had a sudden sinking feeling when in the midst of the movie, several of the characters have broken into their school admissions office in order to pull records on another student. They discover that his birthday was July 14, 1988, which had some kind of significance or another.

July 14, 1988.

In that very moment, I felt like a pedophile. As a woman who has always traveled in circles of friends older than me, I've never had the experience of a May-December romance, where I was the December. I've always been the jailbait. The baby.

And then I was checking out 18 year olds who were born in 1988. The year Rain Man, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Big, Die Hard and Crocodile Dundee were released. The year Geraldo Rivera's nose was broken in the midst of one of his ultra-shitty show episodes featuring white supremacists. The year "I heard it through the grapevine" got a revival after the California Raisins commercial came on.

Oh god, I felt so old. And I haven't felt that way in a long time, especially since I've been with Z. He makes me feel incredibly youthful. * In bed. :)

So I may put my static 17 year old on restriction now that his taste in movies made me feel a bit like a pedophile. And damn the internet for now immediately sending my blog to the FBI for investigation since I posted that word.

Go see The Covenant. And have your own mid-life crisis way too early.

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Lake Santeetlah 2003

C's third bday...her seventh is in two weeks. Bleh.

Bleh.

Yesterday was the last day at my old job. Very, very weird. My boss admitted that in a recent management survey, all of his employees found that he was a manipulator and a rule-follower. Hmmph.

I guess I'll tell more when the excitement fades. I'm still a little overwhelmed by the whole thing.

Yesterday was also Z's birthday. We went to chinese, where my daughter distracted us with her tales of how she was bad. I didn't know first graders cheat on tests, but they do. And now I need SuperNanny to come visit my house.

Yesterday I also freaked out and wanted to get drunk. Hard. With a whole lot of vodka. And limes. Dammit. I'm on Day 66 without alcohol, and I admit that this is much harder than I thought.

Rowr.

So I'm also trying to figure out what I'm going to do with myself for my week off of work. The only thing I've come up with is a lot of long, meditative walks where I make my body hurt. Because I like that. The inner sadist in me doesn't feel like I'm doing any good if it doesn't hurt. Bleh.

Now I have to go buy Charky glasses and find Z's birthday present. Wish me luck. I'm hanging in here.


Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.