A Swift Kick & A Band-Aid

Don't get confused
because you see me lookin' at you...
And I'm not leaving with you
just because you asked me to

Thank all things holy for a CVS near the office ...

My feet were bleeding before I even made it in the building today. When I walked back in the door I was wearing seven ... count em ... SEVEN band-aids

Looks like I'm just not your girl, Shoes ...

The Shadow of the Day
Will Embrace the World in Gray
And the Sun Will Set For You

Just when you feel like the clouds might be parting, you realize that the peace you had found was just the eye of the storm as it was passing through.

You guessed it ... death number six, in just fifteen months.

This one makes me almost as angry as my grandmother's did ... it was preventable. Her own family was too dysfunctional to make a difference in her care and she was too stubborn to find new doctors ... despite how badly they continued to fail her.

Her husband is devastated and already hospitalized, awaiting a surgical procedure, with no one to go home to once he is discharged. And still ... each family member is focused on themselves, putting the blinders of selfishness they have lived with for the past decade to maximum usage.

I could understand if the dysfunction drove them apart completely ... but each of them will ride into to town on the a variety of high horses demanding to be the ultimate decision maker and first person called for everything. It is no different than my aunt who hardly spoke to my grandmother and then came to town when she died ... to fulfill her responsibilities as the eldest child. It is just pathetic and stupid.

Where were all of you when I was calling doctors, making appointments, checking for interactions in medication and accurate dosing, buying food and cooking when they were too tired and needed to be taken care of? In your nice comfy lives, half a country away where she was out of sight and out of mind. Not your problem, right?

I fully expect to be made the scapegoat for all their anger this week. And trust me, they are angry with her (especially in death). Despite everything I did to make things better, they will need someone to yell at. To those family members, I have only one thing to say: I wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire.

Don't get me wrong ... this woman was not the nicest of people, not even to her family. More likely she behaved worse with her family than anyone else ... but she is still a human being and she is still their mother. She deserved better than being left to die at home, alone.

I feel like everything I sow
Is being swept away

Think you had a crappy day? At least you didn't get a jury summons.

Fucking judicial system

No You Don't Mean Nothing At All To Me

I'm headed out the door and into the freezing abyss of painful drama (read: Kansas) around noon...

It is the last step for us in the criminal portion of this nightmare ... sentencing. Eleven months to the day that grandma was killed.

Some of the family that I think should be there will be staying home. The satan-spawn patiently waiting for the moment she can really take my dad to the cleaners, however, has demanded her presence be allowed *JOY!* It has been a roller coaster of heart break and hatred I had no idea I had the capacity to feel toward another person, let alone someone my own father would bring into my life.

I am so emotionally drained from the past year that my only prayer at this point is for the strength to address the court and share with the defendant's family my pain as they sit hoping for a light sentence.

Wish me luck (and vote for Hook while I'm gone, if you haven't already)

Am I Living In Groundhog Day?

Please see yesterday's post for more information

Insomnia, stirring deep inside
Insomnia, somebody turn out the lights

I'm not sure if I am officially back on my insomnia kick, but last night was a struggle. This morning has been even worse.

I tried going to bed well before midnight but I'm not sure how many hours went by before I actually fell asleep. At 12:45 I was getting up to turn the heat down because I was just too hot under the blanket.

I tossed and turned all night long, unable to get comfortable. I could not let go of being awake - mentally, physically - my body and mind wanted to be awake. I do not feel like I dozed for more than 30-40 minutes at a time.

At 5:30 the terrible headache and frustration were just too much. I gave up on sleep and have been watching TV in the living room ever since.

I feel unrested, achey, tense, and frustrated ... and I still have the headache. I sure hope this isn't an indication of how my day is going to go ...

Midterm Disappointment

As ArmyWifeToddlerMom has said, she did not sleep well, neither did I.

When I went to bed I was mostly ignoring the election game but I couldn't help noticing it looked like my team was in trouble**

The Virginia race was tight but at least Allen was on top when I shut everything down. Now Webb is claiming victory? And we have to wait until Thanksgiving for the official word?

And this Pelosi nonsense? I must be in a dream ... please let me be in a terribly, horrible nightmare ...

But Andi has things right with the silver lining ... we have a mission to make sure each and every mistake these fools inflict upon our country is loudly and widely publicized so that their true colors will show in time to keep them out of the Presidency in '08.

** For the asshat that like to leave halfwit political comments - my team is the Republican side

Everything Just Fell Apart

If you thought I hated my landlord before ...

One - My oven has been out of commission for a good several weeks and there is no promise of it being fixed anytime soon. How is a domestic diva to do any baking or food making under these conditions????

Two - When I asked about the light fixure dangling by its wiring above my bed (take note that my landlord caused this damage himself) something he said was, "I was under the impression that you were ok with that." Seriously? Who thinks that?

Three - My A/C is out for the second summer in a row. The temp on the thermostat does not move, the airflow from the vents is practically nil. I went out to the storage closet where our unit is to figure out the problem today and found it was not the icebox it usually is (gotta love inefficiency, right?). I felt the duct work, most of it was chilled but a portion was freezing. I checked the filter - it had wet spots on it. Great. The A/C had frozen up and I spent the day thawing it out. See what happens when you fix things on the cheap? They break again ... soonly ...

The kicker? He's been on a business trip for the last month (with his car parked at my house ... the jackass) ... in CHINA! And he won't be back until after Labor Day. It took him two weeks to get the A/C fixed last summer when he wasn't just getting back from a business trip. Shouldn't people like this have a management company running their property?

I can honestly say I've never had such a lazy, cheap landlord. Anyone know the point at which I can start deducting money from my rent for his lack of upkeep?

Credit Card Bandits

I got a voicemail from my credit card company today asking me to call them in response to a security concern. They left a number and told me which prompts to follow, and that any agent at that point could help me.

I checked my account and didn't see anything wrong. But still I was nervous.

As well I should have been. When I called, they told me that there were two charges made today that seemed out of place. One was to a grocery store, the other for some kind of needlework ...

... In BRAZIL ...

Yeah, I call those charges fully out of place. I've never been to South America, let alone Brazil.

So I'll spend the next 7 to 10 days without my Mastercard. Thank God I have a back up.

The oddest part, I can't quite bring myself to shred the gold little thing ... I've memorized the poor numbers with the black worn off ... it would be like killing one of my oldest stuffed animals. It has been such a good card to me ...

House Centipedes Must Die

I am aware that these little bastards are generally harmless but wtf are they doing in my house?

They are supposed to like dark, damp places ... my bedroom is anything but damp and dark. Remember ... I have an entire wall of window through with the fire of Hades warms my room to the temperature of the sun.

To get rid of them you're supposed to seal cracks in the walls. Well we sure do have our fair share of cracked walls (and doorframes) ... Not to mention windows with a layer of sand on the sills because they don't seal, a door with a gap that allows moisture into the entryway, and water damage on one of our ceilings ... I think I've figured out how they are getting in!

Seriously, I don't care how many spiders they eat ... in my house, they die!

That Sock Conversation

11:06 PM
me: well I'll do my best to keep you readers happy
just don't let me get bored, I start blogging about obscure things

reader: hey, it's all about substance

me: like cadavers or how terrible sex with socks on is

11:07 PM
reader: depends on what kind of socks

me: if they are socks, they suck
end of discussion

11:08 PM
reader: whatever, you're telling me there's no difference between ankle socks that get your feet and big ass tube socks that go halfway up your leg?

--------------------------------------------
I never got to finish this conversation, so I'll defend my position via blog ...

Having sex with socks on sucks. Period. SUCKS! Suck suckity suck suck sucks. I don't care how great the sex is, wearing socks just taints the whole damn experience for me.

Maybe this is just me, the person who can't stand other people's feet touching her own, but it is a huge peeve. I don't even like to wear socks during the day time, why would I want to wear them to bed? They make you all hot and make your feet get all caught up in the blankets. And then while you're having sex? That's just unnecessary friction potential and poor body ventilation.

Plus, if I'm wearing socks, my dude can't do that little thing I like ...

So you see, the type of sock does not matter. A sock is a sock is a sock. All of them evil, no matter their type.

Ghost Dreams

I'm not really sure what has been going on lately, but I can't sleep for crap. There have just been a string of odd, creepy dreams that leave me tossing and turning for hours. I suppose I wouldn't mind so much if it were normal for me to dream, but it isn't. In the past, dreams have meant something. They have been previews of events to come or they have carried with them messages for me to decipher.

Last week there was the talking dog that left me feeling particularly disturbed one morning. Last night it was ghosts.

In a very House on Haunted Hill fashion, there were a group of people staying at my grandmother's house. Each person had their own bedroom ... and each was haunted in a different psych-ward induced nightmare-ish fashion. The house was filled with a variety of screams and terrible noises all night.

The girl in the bedroom next to mine was the only person I could communicate with. The ghosts in her room had slammed the door to the hall and refused to allow her to open the one that connected to my room. She kept screaming for help as I could hear her go insane with fear.

Futilely, I tried to reassure her - if you are nice to the ghosts, they will be nice back. I sat in my own room have a one sided conversation with at least 2 or 3 ghosts that I couldn't see but I knew were there. It was only small talk, but nothing had touched me and I was relatively sure I was free from danger.

On the other side of the wall I heard what sounded like chaos - her screaming, items being thrown, banging on the walls and doors. At one point, I think I heard her crying and saying that one of the ghosts was raping her.

I was powerless. It was up to her to keep her ghosts at bay. She hadn't shown them the respect that they wanted. If I went to help her, it would have been the two of us to die. No amount of outside effort could save her.

Make My Sty Go Away!

Ok, I'll admit it ... my bedroom is a complete fucking sty ... the only thing missing is pigs. There are empty boxes, piles of clothes, stacks of books, random collections of stuff ... the list is rediculous, I assure you.

The problem is that I think I'm just too overwhelmed with my own slovenliness to recover from the avalanche this time. Luckily there are no dirty dishes or things for actual animals to eat, or I'd be in real trouble.

I'm finally willing to pay whomever wishes to become the paid victim of this chaos that cleans it up. It will have to be a hefty pricetag, I'm sure. But I can live on credit for a while if I have to ... right?

Ice Cream Is A Meal

I don't care what you say, it is. And it is a perfectly reasonable meal after the time I've been having.

First I had a fitful sleep because of some crazy dream about a talking dog. The thing looked like a stuffed animal my grandmother had, but it was real. It died and I left it in the bathroom. I knew it was there, but I didn't do anything with it ... after all, it wasn't going anywhere, right? Wrong. Turns out it wasn't really dead. It started talking to me, telling me that it wasn't dead but horribly sick instead. But I couldn't find a way to get it to the vet, so I woke up in a panic about how it would be all my fault this dog died.

Solution: Ice cream for breakfast.

I discover my newest piece of artwork is warped and has to be weighed down to flatten, so there goes my plan for hanging that today. Grrr.

Then I decide to finally put together the awesome pub table I bought a couple months back. Which means taking apart the old one my roommate had a fit about me wanting to get rid of. Well, if I just take it apart, he can't be mad. It ended up coming apart quite easily, much to my surprise. But not without smacking my head on the hanging light above it and almost knocking myself out.

I think I inflicted some drain bramage though because following that, I voluntarily mopped the kitchen. Not swiffer mopped or some half-assed shit either ... I full on mopped with a real mop and then got down on the floor to use a rag on the floor. I've never mopped a thing in my life. I'm either missing brain cells or I really need a job.

So, thinking that my day was beginning to go well, I started in on the new table. The table itself went together in a flash, super easy. Rock on, maybe today won't suck so much after all.

But sometimes we realize, we jinx ourselves, even in thought.

I hit my head on the damn light fixture, almost breaking it, another two or three times ... I'm not really sure, but I think the number line got knocked right out of my head. 1+1 = 9, right? Right? Oh, I can't hear the answer anyway, the headache is too distracting.

But I was determined to get the four stools put together. And therein lies my mistake. On the first stool, I put the crossbar into one side of the base, laid it down and attempted to put the other side of the base on. And the stupid end of the crossbar snapped off inside the base piece. SON.OF.A...

That was the end of the line for me.

Solution: Ice cream for lunch.

I told you it was a reasonable meal ...

Enter Rat Tribble, Stage Left

After what was relayed as a night of one too many ... my dad is now the proud owner of a "cute," young, expensive purse dog. Yes, a purse dog.

A PURSE DOG... A 10 week old Yorkie to be specific ...

I'd feel sorry for him and shake my head in sympathy for the poor bastard, except he did this to his own damn self. I don't think the wicked step-mother knew it was happening or was even there to directly influence him. There's just no poor bastard about it at that point.

And to top it off, not one person in my family likes yappy dogs.

I think we're all starting to lose just a little bit of respect for the man we believed him to be ... I mean, come on ... this is worse than getting a cat ...

HEED THE OMEN

Tomorrow is my birthday ...

Stupid Zipper

MOM!!

The stupid zipper on my stupid backback got stuck .... and I can't undo it!!!

Good thing tonight was the last day of grad school...

Dear Immigration Protestors

Dear Immigration Protestors,

Thank you for bringing to our nation's capital your message. You have enlightened me and shown me a truth that I was before unaware of. I now see the real plight of immigrants.

Without your casual stroll enmasse across the National Mall during evening rush hour, I would never have known how many immigrants can afford to take a day off of work instead of having to slave away for their families. It must be so difficult having that kind of flexibility in your budget.

I am confused though. I read all of your signs that said "We Are America" and I listened to all the talk of how America depends on the work that you do. Yet, none of you showed up to work today and neither did your counterparts all over the rest of the country ... and America continued forward. Hmmm.

But what I am really thankful for is the honest expression of entitlement that has finally come out full force. It is terrific that you can stand there and demand the rights afforded to U.S. citizens, despite having broken the rule of law many times over, but after all ... that free speech is what America is founded on. I'm glad you could find such a selfish use for it. And all the space you are apparently entitled to in the streets and on the metro, I had no idea!

So, immigration protestors, congratulations. You achieved your goal of getting noticed. Your message that you cannot be ignored was received loud and clear. And thus, I will not ignore your cries. I will respond to the struggle you claim to fight with...

In fact, I will do everything in my power to ensure that your struggle continues and your battle becomes a steeper fight.

You see, I noticed you and your clan... and now I hate you ... because it took me an hour and a half to get home today. I watched as train after train, car after car of smug, arrogant, antagonistic protestors waved and taunted those waiting on the platform. You purposely targeted and inconvenienced me during my evening commute, because you thought it would make me contact my Congressman or Senator on your behalf? Isn't there some story about flies and honey that you should be learning right about now?

And while you're at it, go ask Apu why la migra isn't trying to nail his ass to the wall and maybe then you'll learn why he didn't have to protest for his rights.

Sincerely,
The Bitch from the Metro

Grandma Update

I got the following e-mail from my father this evening when I got home from work:

Court hearing this morning. Finally, a preliminary hearing scheduled for April 18. Likely he will plead/deal before that. Looking like all parties may agree on a 10 to 12 year sentencing - somewhere in that range - knowing that parole after serving 15% to 20% of time is possible.

And I haven't heard word one about anyone fighting to actually put him in a courtroom. Witnesses and a good case - and they are already talking about a bullshit plea.

I'm f'in disgusted.

Two Sides...

Either I'm having a fat day or my pants are having a small day.

I think it's probabaly the second ... I'm sure of it ...

Poor pants

Laid Up

I missed blogging about my St. Patty's day festivities yesterday, why? Because I was laid up in bed all day.

Because I was hungover? No...

Because I was getting laid by some hottie I met the night before? No...

But because I managed to find myself coming down with a nasty cold, just before going out on Friday. One of those *WHAM* you're sick kind of moments that hasn't eased up yet.

Of course, the sore throat and tiredness didn't keep me from ejoying my Guinness ... but it sure did a number on my plans for Saturday...

Freaked...

This morning, I was almost hit by a car.
I stepped into a crosswalk I use every day, confident that I had looked both ways. Apparently I hadn't. But somehow, on some level, I knew that the car was there when I walked into the street ... because there was no panic when I looked to my left and saw a car drawing closer. I stood there calmly, waiting to see if he would stop in time or swerve around me as he angrily gestured in my direction.
He stopped. I walked.

This evening, I walked past a girl sitting on the sidewalk with her arms and head on her knees - her pants and underwear pulled down to mid-thigh.
I walked past the girl, unaware of how long she'd been sitting there or how hold she was, and unable to stop. She was not using the sidewalk as her personal toilet, she was sitting with her naked skin on concrete. It was one of the most unnatural scenes I have ever run across.
I panicked. I walked ... quickly.

Tonight, I received an annonymous Valentine's Day gift.
Sitting on my kitchen table was a box from 1-800-flowers. The card read:

I couldn't have this delivered on Valentine's Day but this is your present from me. Since I don't have a girlfriend I wanted to give you something instead.

I am well and deeply freaked by today.

And Then There's The Anger...

First, I want to thank everyone for their supportive comments and e-mails. I haven't been able to read them without crying yet, but I know that time is coming. I am hoping to share my struggle without alienating those with the best of intentions, but that may happen. Because there was a second part to Tuesday's entry...

There's always the anger...

Over the years, through all of the thinking and the pain that comes out of rape, I really have grown to be fairly angry inside. There's no other label for it, no other expression for it, and I see no way around it, despite the toxicity that it brings to my life. Maybe it's just a stage I'm in as I learn to cope. But on the grief scale of life, there are really only a few issues that get me really fired up.

I hate, with a fiery passion, the word rape. Not for what it stands for, but for what it doesn't. In today's worldview, I wasn't raped - I was sexually assaulted. I say, no - I was raped. Does my blood mean less because fingernails and not a penis drew it? It is the same blood. Am I less violated because his penis was forced into my mouth and not between my legs? Both are a violation of the most personal kind. The socially accepted and utilized definition of rape says that my case, my pain, and my recovery aren't as difficult. The inherent judgment that I should be able to "get over it" easier, faster, and better is just salt in the wound. Even the media we use for entertainment support this idea. The girl on L&O:SVU that was "touched" is never as emotionally traumatized as the girl that was raped. From where I sleep at night, haunted by the memories, rape is rape and there is no slightly raped.

Invariably I've heard all of the "it's not your fault," "there's nothing you could have done," "you can't blame yourself." So much so that it is more than I can take. Because it isn't really support. By some, I've been painted as a victim. I am not a victim. I've looked to see what I would do differently. I've asked myself why I made the decisions I did at the time. I've replayed the night to see how something so heinous ever unfolded. I've explored how to keep myself safer in the future. I am not safer because I carry mace or a weapon, in fact, I carry neither. I am safer because I know that I have value and strength - I am empowered. A society that tells rape victims that there are just that, victims, tells them that they are weak and powerless. It takes away from them the idea that they can control their own environment and hold other people accountable for their behavior toward them. It tells women that they will forever be vulnerable, no matter what they do. It is a mentality that makes women helpless creatures that they need not be.

No woman deserves rape. No woman asks to be raped. And no woman should be labeled as, dismissed as, or relegated to being a victim because she has been raped, in any way.

No one can fix it. No one can make it go away. No one can make you forget. But people can care, and nurture, and make you feel loved. They can put their own feelings aside in the short term and make the effort to show you love in the ways you best understand it, rather than in the ways they understand to show it. They can make you feel safe. They can be selfless enough to let you be irrationally upset, without taking it personally. They can be sensitive to your wants and needs for more/less/different types of attention. They can be inconvenienced and do it gracefully. Unfortunately, these things a lot to ask of someone else ... and not many people are up to that task.

8 Years Ago

WARNING: The following is a very personal post about actual events.

On the night of January 24, 1998, America stood on the eve of Super Bowl XXXII. Football fans everywhere anxiously awaited the battle between the Denver Broncos and the Green Bay Packers.

Before that night, I was an awkward, late blooming 17 year old high school senior of the purest breed.

Since that night, no shower has ever made me feel completely clean, no heat has made me feel completely warm, no embrace has made me feel completely loved.

Eight years ago today, my innocence was stolen away from me.

In the house of a friend I trusted, with at least six other people nearby, I was trapped in rooms, pinned against walls, and molested despite my shouting at him to stay away from me. He had already hurt me, I didn't want it to happen again. He told me to be quiet when his fingernails drew blood. I spent the rest of the evening putting someone else between him and me, going room to room if need be. But that only worked for so long. He asked me if I liked it as he forced me onto a couch, kneeled on me, and made me perform fellatio on him. I locked myself in a bathroom until I thought he gave up. He tried to force me into a shower with him. I eventually slept in a room with someone else between me and the door, hoping that he would wake them by accident if he found me there. I don't remember if I slept at all. The next morning he smacked me on the ass and called me tiger.

I couldn't tell a soul back then. My friends believed it was all consentual. They winked and nudged for what felt like an eternity. I was dying inside. I don't know if it is what they really believed or what they needed to believe to get by. My grades plummetted and my parents screamed. They had taken everything from me before I broke. Curled in a ball, sobbing on the floor, about how betrayed I felt, I finally screamed back at them ... that I had been assaulted.

My mom yelled. My dad shut down. We've never discussed it again.

Now, I still can't really tell a soul. Most of my friends have never known. My relationships since then have been rocky. I've had a guy angry with me for having been assaulted. I've had a guy incapable of dealing with it. I've had a guy scream at me for being upset - my hysterics were selfish. The few friends I've told have said the obligatory apology and been done. Today, I simply can't look in the face of anyone that knows.

My life changed forever on January 24, 1998 but I don't know what night her life changed, or hers, or hers. But I'm sure there were others. I never spoke to his superiors or the police. And in my heart, I know there were others.

I walk through life feeling the stain it left behind. I hide in shadows to mask the obvious scar. I fear the pitiful looks and words that people give me. I am paranoid that people just know.

I've never found peace. I've never watched another Super Bowl.

That's Some Nerve

Just got off the phone with dad...

His car was broken into last night. His briefcase, gym bag, and a small duffle were all stolen. Important information about multiple aspects of his entire life, whisked away in the night ... all while his vehicle sat, accidentally unlocked, in his very own driveway.

The ironic part? Nearly every key he owned was in that car because he didn't trust them to be safe inside the house.

Those thugs really had some nerve...

FUMING MAD

I'm so F*CKING mad I could spit!

But in the interest of all involved, I can't blog about it just now.

Double F*CK!

Marcus Vick

Can we PLEASE get this douche off the news?

Sure, he can QB ... I'll give him credit for his skills ... But that's where it stops.

He's been nothing but a big basket of legal trouble for himself and for VA Tech for far too long. Not to mention a huge embarassment to his brother, Michael. I'm constantly surrounded by Hokies and every one of them has said good riddance to bad garbage since Marcus got himself kicked off the team.

And when fans care more about how much a douche you are than how they will win next seasons games, you've got to be a seriously big douche...

I mean, seriously... He gets kicked off the team, pulls this crap about 'screw - you - I'm - just - going - to - go - pro - and - then - you'll - see,' and now he's arrested for brandishing a firearm... Way to go, Fucktard... way to go...

Someone just throw this dumbass in jail for a little while and save us all the annoyance of having to change the channel everytime a new charge gets added to his record. Maybe being somebody's bitch for a few years will readjust his attitude a little bit.

I think Marcus is in for a rude awakening in the draft and the NFL... I knew a guy with exactly the same attitude once. Threatened to transfer to a rival college because coach didn't let him play his kind of ball. He eventually made it to the NFL... but he only lasted a couple of years on one team, a couple of years on another, and within six he was out ... no fame, no notoriety, no one knew who the hell he was ... Served him right.

Sheila, You Bitch!

I just spent the last six hours working on Sheila to make her run a little more smoothly. Yeah, six! For a good for nothin new hard drive no less. No, I'm not an idiot... she just wouldn't cooperate.

I swear, you try to give a girl an upgrade and there's just no damn appreciation!

I'm going to bed...

RIP Independence Air

I'm so bummed to find out my favorite airline has called it quits.

Guess this means paying a lot more for tickets again... Dammit!

Dear Flexies

Dear 'Flexible People'

We have had many good times together. You are wonderful to spend time with. But, I think you are a little confused about that label you put on yourself. You are not flexible.

You are flakey. You are unreliable. You are the antithesis of commitment.

In your aim to be the most easy going of the bunch, you are complicating the lives of others - namely mine in this case. It is often much less forthcoming than would be useful as the rest of us attempt to plan what you refuse to do.

Your last minute actions, notifications, and decisions do not adequately take into consideration the impact you have on others. You shirk a position that would allow you to be held accountable at a later date. You frustrate those around you that try to be a part of your lives.

I would like to ask that in the future, could you simply communicate your wants and/or needs instead of attempting to appear the least rigid or problematic of the group?

Thanks! I look forward to many more good times.

Love,
Your friend - Princess Planner Pants

Ear Drum, Meet Q-tip...

"Sometimes my mouth is good for something..." -- stepmom to Dad

UGH
*shudder*

Now how do I eject that DVD from my mind's memory playback system...

Gross

Lessons...

I learned three very important lessons tonight...

1. I don't like 7-layer burritos. And never again will I eat anything from Taco Bell that has beans in it. No ill effects, just a nasty taste.

2. Sheila is a bitch. I don't know what I did to piss her off, but apparently I did something... cuz not only is she not dead, she fixed herself and I have no idea how. Now, I have some idea what men go through...

3. Computers can and will delete an entire night's worth of work on a paper you didn't want to write in the first place, on the most inopportune night possible, just to make sure you remember what it feels like to build character.

Lessons suck...

Crushed

Anyone who knows me knows that Sheila is pretty much everything to me. She is my single greatest possession and I have my whole life stored on her hard drive.

Imagine how I feel right now, just home from work, expecting to finish up a couple papers... only to find that Sheila's dead... or damn close to it...

She didn't load right, I tried rebooting her a couple of times, but to no avail...

Half my program files are gone and not a single personal file or folder is left in existance.

I'm crushed... and have no idea how to fix it....

On *gasp* Snow

Yes, the first snow of the season has arrived. *grump* And thus marks the period of the year where I will now leave my house if and only if (and/or when) I am forced to do so.

*pout*

Why can't the snow just keep the hell away from me?! If I wanted to see snow, I'd have opened a photo album. If I wanted to experience snow, I'd have gotten on a plane and gone to where it is supposed to snow. It is not supposed to snow within a 10 mile radius of me... ever... regardless of where I stupidly moved to pursue this damn career of mine... unless I have expressedly told the weather otherwise, in writing, in triplicate, 45 days in advance....

Yeah, yeah, snow is a wonderful, life sustaining beauty we have been blessed with. Fine, I'll give you most of that. Lord knows my beloved Southern California would be even more screwed on its water situation if we didn't have snow...

...But it's violating the restraining order ... *whine*

You're Flippin Kiddin Me...

I already know we have some seriously bitchy power delivery systems out here where I live. Personally, I blame the shitty construction that also allows me the following luxuries:

- awesome acoustics with which to hear the mini-Olympians running track and doing the long jump directly above my bed at 7am
- cold air that always seems to find its way into the house during the worst part of the dreariest days of winter to create treacherous drafts
- heat that builds up in my room so easily that even when there are 5 inches of snow on the ground right outside, my room is an unbearable sauna.

I have put up with power outages during rainstorms, snowstorms, the nicest spring day, and clear evenings. In fact, I even put up with one night where the power went out and came back on again at least four times...each time waking me up as my cordless phone searched for its base station. I won't even set my clock radio anymore because the power flips off that freakin often.

But tonight, the gremlins gnawing on the power lines went too far...

I just gotten home from a long day at the office where the computer corrupted a big file (and my boss frustrated the hell out of me) and an extraordinarily long class session where the prof tried to argue with me about whether my paper was late (no f'in way, pal). All I wanted to do was read my e-mail and have some dinner. I opened outlook, waited for the mail to download off all the servers, and started to delete the junk...

When the power blipped...just enough to make my computer restart...

Every bit of the day's e-mail from the main server (with the exception of 2 messages that I couldn't give two shits about) was gone. Not in outlook, not on the server... gone.

You have got to be flippin kiddin me! You just do not mess with a woman's e-mail...

Back to the Grindstone

...err... headstone? I don't even know what you call my job...

My first day back after being gone for 10 whole days, according to my boss "a ton of shit when down" while I was gone, and I was so bored ... I hella fell asleep at my desk... twice...

Damn my job is exciting!

Going Down

I didn't feel so well - ok, I felt like ass this morning.

Some type of hot flash overtook my senses...
I suddenly felt quite ill.
I took my jacket off...
I couldn't manage to cool down.
I touched my hand to any piece of cold metal I could find...
It worked until they grew warm.

I thought I was ok...
I was wrong.
The light headedness got worse...
My vision blurred...
My hearing faded...

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
I was going down.

I know what falling feels like later...
I didn't need that kind of hurt.
I slumped against the wall behind me...
I stayed on the floor for the next 6 stops.
I felt the angry stares from other cramped passengers...
I clutched my stomach praying not to hurl.

Finally it was my stop...

I made it through the rest of the day ok.

Working Girl

I went to work today and I was just girl... not working girl... not go-to girl... not awesome intern girl... just girl.

My computer wasn't fixed yet...

Without the ability to save or e-mail files my hands are tied. I love computers but I really hate being so dependent on the technology. There was honestly no point in me going to work. And my poor boss...

This computer fiasco could not have happened on a worse week for him. He tried to quit smoking but I'm fairly certain that went out the very same window he keeps threatening to jump out of. People from all over the office and other departments keep throwing things at him to do - the majority of which he has had no involvement in until they ask for a final product. Now how are you going to expect someone to just toss together a fantastic final product if it has taken meeting after meeting to develop it and you haven't included him? Boss really needed the ability to hand me some data and send me on my way to work my magic on the numbers... instead they went on his to-do list ... a list that takes a little bit of his soul with every glance he takes at it....

All because I was useless without a computer...

I did manage to get my outline for class and a lot of catching up on world affairs done though.

I would have rather played with the numbers...

WTF Wednesdays

Today could not be more of a WTF Wednesday...

Last night I closed a chapter in my life that was a lot harder to close than I thought it would be when I started writing it.

I woke up this morning already in a funk from the night before, doing what I could to put it in a little box to be dealt with later. I got to work later than I wanted to. 30 minutes into being there, my computer managed to crap out and in the process take with it every single spreadsheet, data file, regulation book, and reporting tool I had worked on since I began working in the office. I went down to my supervisor’s office to tell him the terrific news, and I just couldn't keep it together. It's not like me to not talk - and he knew he was in for it as soon as he couldn't engage me in a conversation - I couldn't fight back the tears. Sitting there making my supervisor uncomfortable as I tried not to cry, I turned beet red wishing I weren't such a girl. I left his office and went to the bathroom where I silently sat in a stall and tried to get the crying out of my system. As I was washing up, someone from the office came in ... there was no hiding that I had been crying but thank god, she just let it go. I tried to go back to my desk to call the computer people but my security badge went Tango Unicorn Uniform, leaving me locked out of my floor. FINALLY, I got back in when someone opened the door but again, there was no hiding the red puffy eyes. I was hanging my head in shame by this point. Crying at work is just so unprofessional...

The other intern came over to talk for a minute, causing the whole story to spill, and of course, the tears to again start gushing. I could kick myself for being such a girl...

The computer people were nice, but less than helpful when I did finally talk to them. I have to wait until they set me back up again, wait to see if they can recover what was lost, and just wait until they get it done. I can access the net but without my computer working properly, I can't email or even print. I flat out can't do my job. No matter that I work for the Office Director's assistant...

At 2:30, I got a call from my academic advisor that I couldn't take because my phone doesn't work in my office. Too bad it was a phone appointment I asked to be scheduled for NEXT week. Why am I not surprised that the front office messed up?

And I still have to go to my least favorite class tonight...

I think Wednesdays should be un-invented.

Women's Shoes

Whoever is designing these shoes... I hope you die a slow, painful death at the hands of your own torture devices. And I can think of a million and one ways to use these things as torture devices, let me assure you.

After two days in the wonderfully cute black heels that I thought fit so well I am damn near in tears at even the thought of having to wear shoes. By lunch my toes were literally bleeding.

At the expense of a paper due tomorrow I am desperately trying on every shoe I can find in the house to see if I can get my toes in anything without crying. I'm not having much luck...

With no less than 5 band-aids on my feet, and one injury left uncovered, can I call in sick because I can't walk?

Surgery Update

I was supposed to be spending the week with Dad while he was in town on business but life seems to have gotten in the way. I did manage to get an update on step-mom from him last night though...

Following a scary call Monday night rushing them to the hospital first thing the next morning they got good news and bad news.

Good news: They believe they got the whole tumor in the surgery.

Bad news: They want her to go through six cycles of chemo.

Good news: She should be able to do her treatments on an outpatient basis instead of being hospitalized like a couple of years ago.

I guess that works out to more good than bad, but still not much fun...

Where's My Rock?

I'm officially creeped out now.

First, I woke up experiencing a panic attack this morning. Yeah, that was fun. Squeeze ... pound, squeeze ... pound, squeeze ... pound... Just what I wanted to wake up to this morning - my heart trying to leap out of my chest. To make matters worse, I have no idea what the panic was about or how it was triggered.

Then, after I had calmed down, my condo started vibrating. I laid on the bed and felt a gentle vibration get stronger, then the windows kicked in. It lasted for close to 45 continuous seconds. It stopped rattling for a few seconds before there was another jolt and a little more vibrating. It really felt like a minor earthquake. It lasted too long and there wasn't enough noise for it to have been a truck outside. On some level it made me feel better, like I had a little piece of home keeping me company. But then I just felt like a crazy psycho when USGS didn't have any earthquake data in the area.

Next I opened up my e-mail to a message from an ex ... saying things weren't so good in his life and that hearing about my new life would cheer him up. He's random like that. At least once a year or so he is good for a 'why do I continue being such a dumb asshole' message sent my way.

I tried to get on track for the day and I didn't get too far before I was interrupted again. I was expecting a phone call... but not from him...

That's right, another ex. He 'thought I had left a voicemail last night' that said I needed to talk to him. Convenient how he was just bitching about his drama with the psycho chicks in his life.

I think I need to crawl under a rock for the rest of the day. I'm not sure I want to know what random life-test is lurking around the corner. This time it is a conspiracy for sure...I just know it...

Escape Artist

It was a little too warm
It was a little too light out
The celing fan's light fixture was insistant for attention

With the bulbs adjusted and the glass tweaked...
There was a patterned hum as the blades rotated

It was a little too uncomfortable
It was a little too wrong
The tossing and turning refused to take the night off

My insomnia has returned, in full force.

I woke up this morning far earlier than I wanted to and on the verge of tears. Just before waking up I was dreaming of an old job and re-experiencing the frustrations of working there. The nice people were all still there but the manager had been replaced with the former district manager who was worse, ten fold.

In the dream...
I was packing small bags with my things - the equivalent of cleaning out my desk. It was understood that I was quitting. The layout of the store was different but most everything else was the same. There was a snitch that made career points at everyone else's expense. The top management was rude and abrasive. In the midst of me doing my job and her in the middle of another task, she dropped everything came over to me. She ripped my name badge from my neck and demanded to know where I had gotten it. She made clear that if I wanted to quit, she didn't need me in her store for another minute longer. I snatched the name badge away from her and retreated to the break room. She continued to make comments as she walked to the back of the store to go to her office. It was too much for me to take and I screamed at her as she walked away, "if you didn't exist, this would be the greatest job on earth. I don't understand why you are even here." At which point I broke into tears in the break room and was consoled by another worker.

I couldn't fall back asleep after that. I was too upset and too disturbed by my childish reaction in the dream.

Yet another good night's sleep has managed to escape.

Dad's Sat Update*

It was a long day of post-op recovery for step-mom. Surgery takes a physical toll that catches up with a patient by day's end.

Daughter 1 and daughter 2 each drove down to Cedars this afternoon. Step-mom was boosted by that, as well as a personal call from her senior physician.

I stayed here last night at Cedars on a cot in step-mom's room. I think tonight
I'll head home for a few hours rest and to see that all is in good shape at home.

We're anticipating a visit by Dr. K - senior staff - tomorrow morning at 0700. Dr. K is a gem, a valuable resource for the women's health care initiative.

We're feeling fortunate, blessed to be surrounded with such great personal
and professional support, together with equally good news at this juncture.

Thanks again to all.

Best,

Dad& step-mom

There Aren't Words...

I called Dad last night to see how everyone was holding up after the surgery and found him still at the hospital, just where a devoted husband belongs when his wife has been through a major ordeal. Step-mom was in a private room in the hospital where she would recover for the next three or four days and Dad was awaiting a cot so he could sleep there with her. Her daughters were no where to be found.

Before he left they repeatedly pestered my father about where he would spend the night. Why? Because the very day their mother underwent surgery to remove internal organs and potentially deadly tissue these girls were plotting to throw a party in the parent-free house. Their excuse for not visiting was traffic...

It is labor day weekend and I'm sure my dad will spend a lot of it in the hospital keeping his wife comfortable and in good company. That leaves these satan-spawn to throw as many parties as they like. And if they are good at one thing it is answering when an opportunity like that knocks.

I don't know why I am shocked at this turn of events but my step-sisters never cease to amaze me. At 21 and 17 you would think that by now they would have developed some level of sensitivity and maturity. Maybe normal people of their age would have, but not these pieces of trash.

When my mom had outpatient surgery to remove a malignant mass I made sure I was not only in town but at the hospital with her before, during, and after. She didn't spend a moment of the few hours she was in the hospital outside of surgery without me. My brother was there for most of the time and her friend was there a good portion of the time as well.

My mom and I have our differences and have fought more often than not throughout my life ... but when it came right down to it, being there was more important than anything else I could have had going on in my life. I guess the same is not true for the step-sisters.

I am so beyond disgusted right now that there aren't words...

Evil Strikes Thrice

It has been confirmed that my step-mom has been attacked by cancer for the third time in her life. Her first two battles were with the same type. This time she is facing an entirely new monster.

Under the advisement of some of the best oncologists in the country, her first line of treatment is a hysterectomy - scheduled for tomorrow. Whether she will need additional treatment has not been decided at this point.

No family should have to suffer the pain of cancer as much as hers has.

Ban Renewed

I don't care how slim the chance is that a creepy crawly thing could actually hurt me... stuff like this is why they are simply and unwaiveringly banned from my house. I mean, just listen to this:

Thinking it was a mouse, I went to investigate the sound. The sound was coming from under some papers which I lifted, expecting to see the mouse scamper away," the 32-year-old psychotherapist said Wednesday. "Instead, when I lifted the papers, I saw this prehistoric looking animal skitter away behind a stack of books.

The Scolopendra gigantea has front claws that are adapted to deliver venom when it stings, which can lead to a blistering rash, nausea and fever. The sting is rarely life-threatening, but painful.

Banned. Period. Case closed.

Bail Shaft

I just got off the phone with Joshua Tree Superior Court in California...

And they tell me I need a lawyer now.

And I wasn't the one that got arrested.

But I won't see my bail again if I don't.

WHAT . THE . FUCK ?

Katrina

I want to send best wishes to Gulf Coast residents. I can't even imagine what you are in for this week and in the weeks to come. Many a blog will keep people updated but this is not one of them. Bou and Eric most definitely have their share of coverage and more expressive words about the subject than I could dream of being able to write.

The most I can really say is that people I know have loved ones in Katrina's path and they are worried. They are upset because they know there is nothing they can do but call and ask if everything is still ok. I have been along the coast there from Pensacola to NO itself and it is a shame to think of the desctruction she is capable of brining to it. So many people's lives at stake and so many resources that will be spent to put the pieces back together again.

I know now is probably not the best time for humor but sometimes it is how I deal with what I cannot control. So just remember, when the water's coming, do what the stupid chick in the horror flicks always does when some psycho is chasing her around the house ... always go up!

The Doctor Will Ignore You Now

4 weeks ago today I went in to have a long over do check up. It had been about six years since I was looked over for cancer, despite my high risk status and previous findings of pre-cancerous tissue. I had been putting it off out of fear of what they would say. Mentally I guess I'd rather stay guessing than hear the bad news. I hate the scars that the biopsies leave behind and some part of me was avoiding that as well.

Last night I got a little pre-printed card from the doctor's office with only my name, address, and biopsy date filled in by hand. Even the doctor's signature was a very, very poorly stamped signature. It was good news but am I the only one that thinks this is seriously unprofessional? First I had to wait a month to find out if I was infected with these evil, malicious cells. Then I'm not even worthy of a phone call or a letter that is (1) less obviously a form letter, and (2) has less of a generic 'keep an eye on it' type recommendation?

This office had come highly recommended. I will have to respectfully disagree and never go back. The possibility of cancer is far too scary to be blatantly treated like a number, especially in a private practice.

Crash-Bang-Ditch, pt II

I sat here thinking about this whole situation a lot over the last couple of days and I realized two things.

1. I am without a doubt my father's daughter
2. It's not about the money.

It irks me that my family is out the money but it isn't the end of the world that we are. Assuming the jackass goes to his court date at least some of the money will be returned by the courts. That means only the car costs and chiropractic costs will be left unpaid.

What really irritates me is the fact that my dad has jumped though hoop after hoop because of this pair. The time off work, the trips to the auto shop, the time spent thinking about what to do. The girl has been nothing but disrespectful from the beginning but Dad has a soft spot for people that live a tougher life than he does. He excuses away bad behavior with reasons of their stress or worry. Sometimes I think he'd just keel over on the spot if someone tapped him on the shoulder and said 'Thanks for all you've done but your services are no longer needed - no one in the world needs helping anymore.'

And because of that generosity he now has a car in his posession and there is nothing he can do with it. He doesn't have the title so he can't sell it. And even if he wanted to just hand it back to her and be assed out the cash, he can't - she won't return his calls and he doesn't know her address. The car is the stress on his life that he doesn't need.

So I believe Eric said it best earlier '... some people need a good beating, that is for sure...'

Crash-Bang-Ditch

Remember that accident I was in a month ago? Yeah, still not resolved.

The guy who was driving, that got arrested, and I bailed out of jail? Not returning my phone calls. Where's my $1600, pal?

The chick who's car he was driving? Still being a manipulative bitch. Not returning phone calls either. Dad took her car to be repaired under the agreement that she either repaid the money or would give him the title so he could sell it. Now she's doing neither. She wants it to run perfectly before she makes a decision. It had an exhaust leak and it sounded like a go kart before the accident. What do you want from us bitch? Where's the $1700?

Why am I so angry about it right now? Because I care about my dad and I care about how much stress he is under and I care about nice guys getting screwed over. He was nice to these people because I was in the car at the time of the accident...no.other.reason. Dad has just found out that his wife may have cancer, again. Yes, again. This would make the third time for her, I believe. And while I don't like the woman, I don't wish that torture on her or for the anguish it puts my dad through.

So I am angry at these two yahoos for kicking a gift horse in the teeth. I feel like my hands are tied since this is all taking place in LA and I am not there. And I can't make my dad teach them a lesson. He has bigger, more important things going on in his life. When push comes to shove he'd probably take the hit to the wallet just to avoid the hassle of court.

If anyone in LA wants to handle this for me or break a jackasses knees in Brooklyn, let me know.

Do Not Pass Go

I woke up his morning with the distinct feeling that something, somewhere, was going terribly wrong..if it hadn't already. Not quite a panic but more than a worry - it started my day very poorly.

So far I haven't figured out what the evil I was feeling is so maybe it was just my dream...

I woke up in the middle of a dream where I was house sitting with friends. We were watching something on TV and a few of us were getting a little too loud. Cops showed up and sentenced me to pay for the actions of all with 10 mins in jail. I set off to find the jail and was having one hell of a time doing it. A little later my best friend showed up with the same sentence. She and I were still trying to find the jail and having no luck. We asked cop after cop in the middle of festivals that were going on. We made it to the justice center but the family area with food courts, shopping, fountains, and lush green terraces was so hugely like a mall that we still could not find where official business was to be conducted. We talked as we walked and discovered the officers who had handed out our sentences told each of us individually that we were paying for the actions of one man... and that each of our friends would continue to do so until he stopped. I was tearfully asking yet another officer how to find our way to jail and listening to him tell me to come back at 2am when things would be quicker when I woke up...

I hope this day is better than it feels like it's going to be...

Runs In The Family

I'll be taking it a little easy tonight.

Why?

Well I've taken a page out of Dad's book and I'm really hoping it doesn't become a whole chapter. Just before dinner I bent over, put my hands on my knees, and then slowly crumpled to the ground. There was a loud pop and a sharp pain in my lower back. Seems my sacro-iliac joint was none to happy this evening and needed to bring me down with it. Once the pain and tears subsided I was ok. It feels a little iffy now and then so I'm being extra careful.

Good thing I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow!

My Genes Don't Fit!

My time at the chiropractor was both heaven and hell on a table. He's a big believer in sports therapy and I couldn't agree more with his tactics. While he did inflict a lot of pain trying putting pinpoint pressure on muscle spasms, he more than made up for it with his massage therapy sessions. It's amazing how great a vibrating powertool can make a girl feel. I'll have to ask him how I can add one like his to my collection...

But I've managed to jack myself up so thoroughly that what should have been a 15 min appointment was an hour long. I have 2 more appointments this week and will be back three times next week. After that, the balance between targeted exercises and adjustments will depend on how much my body has healed. Good thing I found someone relatively convenient to get to.

I called dad to update him on what the chiro said but I didn't get too far... he was driving Lil Bro to urgent care again. Seems Lil Bro was having a dizzy spell and tightness in his chest that made him feel he needed medical attention but he was uncomfortable being behind the wheel.

I'm beginning to feel like I come from some sort of sickly stock... we're all just falling apart left and right! I blame the genes...

Emotional Masochist

The following is a real conversation:

Ex: its been a yr since ive seen u right
Me: yeah
Ex: when did we hook up?
Me: what's with all the questions?
Ex: im trying to remember the good times
Ex: ive had a bad day
Ex: trying to keep people stright... JK
Me: isn't it your gf's job to cheer you up then?
Ex: ses still at work
Ex: shes
....
Ex: I swear last i knew u were in Pa (*)
Ex: thats why i asked
Me: nope
Me: apparently you don't remember a whole lot of what it was like to know me
Me: feels real special
Ex: shut up
Ex: i remember ur ass and tits
Ex: and that wonderful smile
Ex: sorry im a in rare mood
Me: k
Ex: u really should send me a pic of u so when im down i can remember more of thoes days when we hooked up and all the fun we had

Why do I even answer IM's from people like this? I know exactly how it is going to turn out every. single. time... I am apparently an emotional masochist with the inability to learn. Maybe that makes me insane too...

* I have NEVER lived in PA...in fact, I have never even visited

Vacations Are Banned

You heard me... no more vacations! Not for my family at least. First there was my vacation troubles in LA last month (no, they aren't resolved yet) and now Dad.

A couple of days ago, while on vacation in Hawaii, Dad threw his back out... I only found out last night because I happened to call my mom to chat about my current medical woes. Mind you, Dad is a fairly healthy guy...goes to the gym... tries to eat well ... and follows most medical advice his docs give him if there is any trouble. He's had some back pain before but the problems were generally kept at bay by specific strengthening exercises given to him by his chiropractor. I guess they weren't enough anymore. In his words, "I thought I was headed to the hospital...I was in real trouble last night." Apparently the muscle spasms were so bad that it caused him some respiratory distress as well. I haven't gotten all of the details from him but a doctor was called to the hotel, he was having trouble breathing, he's been prescribed valium and vicodin, and has been to physical therapy every day since it happened.

So now you see... I hereby decree vacations BANNED in my family.

Now lets just hope Mom and Lil Bro (& GF) can make it home from their camping trip without a vacation fiasco of their own.

Mormon Underwear...

... whoa... call me naive... say I was brought up under a rock... say what you will, but realize first that I honestly had no idea Mormons had special underwear... some sort of knee-length thing with thick fabric buttresses over the special places.. mainly the nipples and pubes.... again, all I can say is whoa... the thought of someone needing reinforcements over their extra-sensitive bits just boggles my mind... Mormons must have nipples of steel... but, I digress...

.. this post, in no way, is meant as disrespectful of Mormons.... actually, I've never even met a Mormon... and as such, I usually wait until I've met people before I start making fun of them... so, this is NOT making fun of Mormons... it's just me... trying vainly to understand why the vast majority of the population isn't going Commando.... after all, God created us naked... and even after Eve bit into that forbidden fruit and covered herself in fig leaves, God issued no great commandment about negligees.. gentile or not.... surely God's Underwear is nothing but fur resting securely against denim.... as it was in the beginning, right?... or at least fur against silk... or satin... or burlap...

.. damn... there I go again... digressing... see, I have just had an email exchange with Boudicca... and it is quite possible that it is the strangest exchange via the internet that I've ever had... which is saying a lot.... anyway, I was told something that I was honestly ignorant of... sure, the Blogosphere is full of freaks, geniuses, flashers, and ego-maniacs... but in all my years of corresponding with them, I've never stumbled upon the fact that Mormons have special underwear.... so, thank you, Bou... I don't know where I'd be without you... still, someone should have sent me the memo...

... anyway, to cut a long story even shorter, here's the deal... as a public service announcement, be it herein known, Mormons wear a body sock with reinforcements... pretty damn kinky, if you ask me.... and I, as you all know, am a sworn proponent of boycotting knickers in general... freedom, that's what God intended... flowing in the breeze, and knocking at your knees mid-thigh....

... and it is at such times as I am currently experiencing - this shocking revelation of Mormon underwear - that I question the validity of the religious way of life....

... what's my point?... well, as is often the case, I have none... other than to say that if the Mormons ever moved to the South, they'd be in for trying times... indeed, they'd either convert to a different religion, or die of heat stroke... now, I'm all for religious tolerance, but I have to say... even the Great State of Tennessee is not friendly to cotton knickers in July and August... much less full-body socks with reinforced nipple-covers.... chaffing, rashes, and dehydration await the Mormons that wanders South... it's a sore, but salient fact, people... it's not the heat down here, but the humidity that kills ya...

July

... is apparently not my month...

At 7:45a the outside temperature is 77 with 90% humidity...making it feel like 85 according to the weather gods. The temperature in my house is about equal. The A/C isn't working, I can't turn the fan on, my old thermostat is in pieces on the dining room table (as is the new one for some reason), there are tools all over my dining room, and I've heard nothing from the roommate or the landlord about what is going on.

... stupid July ...

Traveling Demons

...I meant to write children... wonder how that slipped past the proofreading...

Anyhow, I'm back in DC after a series of terrible customer service experiences with United Airlines and experiences of even greater horror with the little demons they allow to travel their planes.

Today reaffirmed several long-held beliefs of mine as well...
1) When you need the shuttle to arrive on time, it will inevitably arrive early
2) Never, ever, EVER fly a major airline unless you have to
3) Children Devil spawn should travel in the cargo hold where their screaming, crying, shreaking, babbling, putrid smelling, seat kicking, hair pulling, arm poking, window slamming selves cannot be noticed.

All Hell Broke Loose

For the first time in a couple of days, I have a little bit of peace and time to explain what has kept me away. In short, Tuesday was a horrible place to be. Period.

It didn't start out all that bad. That morning a friend of mine also on vacation in LA borrowed his girlfriend's car and came up from downtown to visit. We had breakfast, took a little tour of town, bought his girlfriend's daughter a Care Bear, got the car washed, went to the Reagan Library...it was a relaxing day with someone I hadn't seen in years. We were just killing time together and having a good time.

And then...all hell broke loose...

On our way to see a movie we got our directions turned around and we never made it to the theater. While trying to turn around a truck traveling far too fast hit the front of the car we were using. The driver was a kid from the high school I went to that got out of the truck already screaming. His mom traveling in the opposite direction showed up just seconds later and joined him in screaming out orders of who to call and what he needed to do. My friend and I didn't talk to them. They had never heard of the words calm or rational.

A few seconds later a woman walks out of her house to tell us she called the police. Not a minute later they were on the scene...bringing with them fire trucks and an ambulance. For a non-injury accident there were 5 officers, 2 fire trucks, and an ambulance.

The front end of the truck was damaged and plastic pieces from it had flown everywhere. It had no crumpling and could easily still be driven. The point of impact on our car was almost directly the left front tire. The car was kneeling down with the wheel well so deformed the tire was unable to rotate. Both vehicles were towed before anyone asked us how we felt about it or where we wanted it taken.

I called my dad who couldn't help but he called my mom and Lil Bro who both left work to do what they could. I stood there not knowing what to do...I had never been in an accident before.

While I was trying to arrange a way for us to get back to my mom's house I had three people standing around me, closing me in, wanting my attention. I hung up the phone and they all started talking at once. When I tried to answer I couldn't help but start crying. My heart was racing, my friend was holding his neck, an officer was rudely questioning my friend, and I couldn't do anything. It was a massive test of my compulsive need to organize and direct a situation to resolution.

Most of what happened in the middle of things I missed because I was taken to the ambulance. Paramedics were concerned about what might happen as a result of my anxiety and they acted like I was in hysterics. They took my pulse, pressure, and then put me on a heart monitor before they would let me sign AMA papers.

By the time they let me out the kid's entire family was there watching. He was whining that his truck was no good, that it was done, and it had been totally ruined. The same officer that had been rudely questioning my friend was still harassing him. The registration was missing and he couldn't reach his girlfriend at work. The officer repeatedly questioned if he was on probation or on drugs. None of the officers wanted to talk to me. My family kept calling, sometimes at the same time. I stood on the side of the road trying to get my family to stop calling and just coordinate within themselves while my friend tried desperately to reach the owner of the car and the police kept running searches on him.

My brother showed up just as the car was being towed away and the rude officer was taking down my name and address. Within minutes of the officer obtaining that information (and nothing else from me) another officer came up behind my friend and asked him to put his hands behind his back. He was under arrest because there was a warrant for his arrest in a county 4 hrs away. He asked that the contents of his pockets be given to me, the officer complied, and then he was gone.

I stood there in shock. I knew where he was going and how much his bail would be but I had no idea why he was leaving. He had never been read his rights or the reason for the warrant explained. Suddenly he was gone, the officers talking to one another in the middle of the street, and the whole thing was over. Not once did an officer ask me if I had a place to go or a way to get there despite knowing I was from out of town.

I walked to my brother's car as the police looked on... the car's owner finally called back and I couldn't do anything but tell her that her only car had been disabled and that her boyfriend had been arrested ... a motorcycle cop tailed my brother most of the way down the freeway as he drove me to mom's house ... I had no idea the day could get worse...

He had been arrested around 2:30p - It took me the remainder of the day to get him out of jail. I had to wait 1.5 hours before there was a record of him in the system and it wasn't until then that he got his phone call to tell me again how much his bail would be. The officer in the background told him he could leave as soon as his fingerprints done, his pictures were taken, and I paid his bail. We left immediately and my credit card was run at 5:44p and I was told to wait for the other paperwork. It arrived 2 hours later. I signed it and was told it would be another 6-8 hours before he would be released.

Mom and I went to get dinner and kill a little time before calling to check on him. No one would answer the phone so we drove back to ask in person. The answer was "about another hour, if that." So we unsuccessfully went to look for coffee and came back 45 mins later. A party for a departing deputy was announced over some kind of intercom system...which aggravated both mom and me. An hour later my friend was finally released, at just before midnight.

The legitimacy of his warrant is still in question. It was issued because the computer claims he didn't pay a fine from 1998. He says he paid it but I don't know if he can prove it. His bail is subject to forfeiture because failure to pay the fine was considered violation of a court order. He has to get the court's permission to leave the state and return home to Brooklyn. And the way things stand, he has to come back again for a court date in the beginning of August...something nearly impossible to do in his career field.

The car owner got her registration from the DMV Wed morning but it took all day to get the car released from the towing company. It now sits at an auto place where my dad takes his vehicles. We don't know what it will cost to fix, if it is worth it, or how long the owner will be able to borrow other people's cars.

My friend and the owner went back to her place last night but damn near nothing is resolved and it feels like my body is coming up with new aches and pains by the hour.

Tuesday is my new least favorite day...

Revenge

More than anything (besides snakes), I HATE spiders...especially the black or brown ones. They are creepy, crawly, and all kinds of hibblie jibblie. I've written before about them and their death warrant that is signed the moment they enter my house. Last night a rather large spider found out that when I say my house, I mean the house I'm staying in, and I mean business. So here's the story...

First night I'm here, there's a spider at eye level on the wall...mom kills it.

Next night, spider in the middle of the floor...mom kills it. I go to my room to go to bed, move the pillow, and the spider hiding underneath scurries across the bed, underneath the other one. I of course, freak the hell out. The evil army of eight legged repulsion crossed an unforgivable line...no one defiles my bed unless I say so... Mom and I ripped the bed apart, picking up the mattress and everything, but to no avail... the offender cannot be found. Only after all the bedding is shaken and the pillows pounded on the floor am I able to get into bed...and even then I hardly slept.

Next night, spider looking creature on the floor...it was some other bug unlucky enough to be seen by me... mom killed it.

Last night, I am tired and I am more than ready to go to bed. I perform what is now a ritual of moving the pillows and shaking them before I can get into bed...nothing happens...I think I am safe. I was wrong.

I grab my PJ top off the bed, turn it right side out, and pull it on over my head. I walk to the door to turn off the light when I feel something tickle. It wasn't a normal tickle. It was the kind of tickle that made my mind immediately freak out while hoping I'm just a paranoid psycho. Nope... I tug at my shirt to make the tickling stop and out plops the previous bedroom offender...he's big enough to have identifiable mass... I am shuddering at the realization that the evil doer didn't just get near me...it was on me...it touched me...it tickled me!

This could not stand! I look around the room and find my homicidal weapon of choice...the 3 inch heel big black boot...

In one motion I move the bag it had crawled under and swing down with the boot. It is a loud, satisfying thump on the carpet that sheers off a couple of legs and leaves its body slightly crumpled. But that is not enough for me. I must have revenge!

Several angry blows later, I emerge from my homicidal rage and bitterly tell mom of the unspeakable offenses and the spider's rightful demise. But still, I slept horribly... in fear that more are lurking... and may now have my number...

New Perspective

I spent most of last night putting a box of pictures in some semblance of chronological order and then into photo albums for better storage...and it was a horrible experience...

I have an entirely new perspective on my awkward early teens and how it came to be that I had no real friends to speak of... and it is even worse than the way I have remembered it all these years.

In my mind, I was just a loner & an outsider trying to break into established cliques as the new kid...

These pics show it was far more than that... I was three times the size most girls my age... both taller and an obese child... skin as pale as milk... clothing meant for women decades older than myself that would have been unattractive and terribly out of fashion for a woman of any age or size... hair without even a remote hint of organization or understanding of good looks... huge ugly glasses that cut into my cheeks when I smiled... If you looked at most of these pics and didn't know a thing more about me, you'd say I was the neighborhood window licker... with a permanent seat on the short bus...

Part of me wants to burn the pictures and another part of me wants to just sit on the floor and cry... the voice in my head is screaming 'why didn't anyone tell me?!?' Children are mean to one another... especially when someone isn't 'normal'... I know first hand...

I suppose I should just be happy that I was an ugly duckling that grew out of it...but some days when I look in the mirror, I still see the duckling...

Being in LA is depressing...

Family Dinner, pt. 1

Lil Bro came over to mom's house for dinner tonight...it quickly became one of the most scarring moments of my young adult life... Examples?

... Lil Bro has size issues with condoms... EW!

... Lil Bro takes after my dad... shudder

... Dad wasn't known to give a subpar performance... hibblie jibblie

You see? TMI...way too much TMI! So now I have to go poke out my ear drums with Q-tips and scratch out my mind's eye with a dull knife...

Pack Rat Overload

I've been sorting through boxes of my things over the past two days and I have discovered I am a much worse pack rat than I ever previously admitted. First off, the boxes seem to be more like bottomless pits. Second, I have no idea why I have some of this stuff...

...notes from college classes I took in '99 and '00... that I still must check to make sure there is nothing uber useful in them (completely ignoring the fact that I haven't needed in the last 5 yrs...)

...unfinished holiday projects from grade school... that I am somehow telling myself I will finish and then put on a garage sale... (what?)

...more keychains than the number of keys I have ever had in my life... that I'm pretty sure I can part with... (as long as I don't look at them a second time... )

...half used coloring books... that I am sort of sure I can part with... (but I am sad to see my wonderful handy work going away... )

...and the most bizzare... a mold of my upper teeth... Yep, that's right...a dentist quality model of my upper teeth... weird...

Back to the salt mines though...the trash pile isn't big enough yet...

Downers

Today just isn't working out to be a very happy day here in the land of the Princess...

1) I was again up WAY too early...and out of the house by 6am... Which is especially not fun in my current state of temporary illness. At least I got a little more sleep later though.

2) Drama...I'm just going to leave it at that.

3) A thunderstorm is on its way so Shiela will be out of service until it passes. I just can't risk what migh happen to her with all the power fluctuations we get when it rains.

4) I have to pack. Packing is the bane of my existance. I know it means I get to go somewhere fun but I hate packing. But I leave for Cali tomorrow...so I have no choice but to pack... dammit...

I'll be back later - hopefully in a better mood...

UPDATE: I guess there's just something in the cards today...trying to get a bowl out of the cupboard for lunch I ended up breaking one of my roommate's dishes on the counter. Guess I'll be avoiding any major stunts today...

Insomnia

Anyone who has known me for even a few month knows I often fight with insomnia. I'm a night person by nature and sometimes it just takes over. Last night was one of those nights. And I haven't been sleeping well for the past few days as it is.

I forced myself to go to bed around 2am but my body was not having it. I tossed and turned for probably an hour before I fell asleep. Unfortunately though, it didn't last long. I was awake off and on for the entire rest of the night. At 6am I was awake enough to realize what time it was and getting fully back to sleep was lost. By 7:30 I was wide awake and out of bed...and bitter about it...

Since then I've had breakfast, surfed my blogroll, and watched far too much TV. Far too many channels, nothing good on TV, and a blow to my self-esteem as I somehow got stuck on paid programming for fitness videos...

Fucking insomnia

Step-Skank

Err..I meant to title this step-sister...

Well the little skank has now officially followed in the older skank's footsteps and even managed to one up her. This morning, little skank smacked her Infiniti (that she did nothing to earn or pay for) into the whore's BMW. At least the older skank only wrecked her own car when she had accident after accident.

And will the little skank be held responsible? Not a prayer... Her mother the whore wouldn't hear of teaching her children how to be responsible for their actions. Or in reference to the skank, the words of my brother...

Lol. Responsible? Educated? Intelligent? Why be any of those things when you can just marry/divorce men as they hold/lack money?

Why dad married into this trash I will never understand...

Advertising...

... you know, I used to think that Skippy's sidebar photo of the hot devil-chick was the bomb... but, I have to say... his latest banner kicks ass, people...

... hey, I'm just saying...

UPDATE! UPDATE!

"So, for the remainder of May and all of June, if you visit my site, you will be exposed to large, veiny udders. If this offends you...hopefully I'll see you back in July. And if you like it, you are one sick bastard."

... they say these things come in 3's... Lord, help us...

Friday the 13th

In case you forgot to consult your calendar, today is the one and only Friday the 13th of the year...

I guess that means things promise to be extra evil today, so watch where you step...avoid ladders and black cats and all that good stuff...

I'll be avoiding my ground floor tonight - who knows what that ghost will be up to tonight. I haven't seen her in a while...and I'm pretty ok with that...

Step-Family

So I'm filling in the millions of questions that go along with trying to become a govie and it comes to the section on family... to include step-family. Are you for serious? For serious.

I have to admit being related to these ... uh ... misfits relatives?

Crap...this can't be good for my future in government...

Step Whore Mother Strikes Again

Please allow me to be hateful for a few moments...or however long it takes me to finish writing this post...

Allow me to set the scene...'Lil bro graduates from undergrad in 18 days. The completion of his studies includes two days of fun - a ceremony with the School of Engineering, an all campus commencement, an Engineering School reception, and a reception thrown by my parents. My dad's wife wants to be there for the whole thing...

"Now why is this a problem?" you may be asking yourself... Because she's a bitch. Maybe you're thinking I just didn't give the poor woman a chance...after all, stepfamilies are tough. WRONG! The bitch had her chance and about 15 others after that. It isn't that she is my dad's second wife - I was thrilled to see my parents get divorced. It should have happened 10 years earlier, in fact. She hasn't ever tried to replace my mom, probably because she's the worst parent on the planet...but that's for another day. She took over my dad's life the minute they started dating back in '99. She's had his balls up on a shelf ever since. No offense to anyone from New Jersey but she is your stereotypical gold digging Jersey bitch. Blue collar family with no history of higher education that resents the white collar highly educated family. That should help put things in the right perspective...

My dad married her I guess it’s almost 2 years ago now and I think we've said maybe 2 complete sentences to one another in that time. The night before the wedding I sat in front of the house on the tailgate of my boyfriend's truck crying my eyes out over the situation. He went inside and told my dad he needed to come out and talk to me. My dad came out to find me surrounded by a mountain of tissues, tears promising to continue for a long while. I begged him to tell me why he was marrying her. I got every answer in the book but the one I should have heard. The answer he kept going back to was "we bought a house and we live together, the church says we should be married then." (He started going to church after the divorce). I've always hated that answer and him, in part, for believing it. Once I realized I hadn't heard the one thing I needed to hear, the tears stopped. He never once said he was marrying her because he loved her. When I confronted him his answer was, "well I do." Nice try...

I stood there as part of the wedding party driving a fingernail into my palm to keep from making a scene. During the reception I was asked to give a toast and I didn't make it through one sentence before I burst into tears - and not happy tears... Tears of frustration that something so horrible had just taken place and I was powerless to rectify one ounce of the debacle.

Dad is Mr. Fix-it. She needed fixing. So did her skanked out, loser daughters. A match made in hell as the whore crew sucks money out of his account faster than they do dick off the street.

But back to the scorecard for 'lil bro's grad...
The people who don't like her besides me: ‘lil bro, dad's family (mom & sis), my mom.
The remainder of the people who will be at the reception that she doesn't know: mom's whole side of the family (~12 people).
People she does know & don't hate her: Dad.
Outcome: STAY HOME BITCH!

Wishful thinking I’m sure... I can’t wait to have a few and tell her how I really feel…

Worried

I was talking with the friend yesterday about her situation with the psycho and I just don't know what to do.

From where I sit this guy has a history of questionable behavior and is currently spiraling out of control. When they broke up 7 yrs ago for religious reasons (he's an atheist, she was a devout Christian) he went to the tallest building on campus for 2 reasons - to see in her window and supposedly to jump. Years later they began speaking again because he sent her an e-mail that sounded like a suicide note. Since then - even while they were dating - she has questioned his emotional stability. Now he's pulling stunts like showing up at her house, sending excessive e-mails, calling when she asked him not to...these are not the actions of a normal, stable individual. He's doing internet searches for her and visiting all 3 blogs of mine that he can find multiple times, nearly everyday (2 are old and not updated) - I'm assuming he's trying to find information about her. That's just plain obsession.

He broke up with her last December and his family still thinks they are dating. If that's not major denial, I don't know what is. Why can't she see that he is clearly not behaving normally and that living in this fantasy world is unhealthy for all parties involved?

I'm worried that someone is going to get hurt. We know he's thought about physically hurting himself and that he makes irrational decisions, some that could affect his future and career options. I think he is capable of physical action against her - maybe kidnapping her or even hurting her.

I can't file a restraining order against him on her behalf. I can't even convince her that I have reason to be worried. But I can't stop worrying...

A Psycho Ex Part 2

Well it seems that 'ol evil himself has been lurking around the site. Interesting...

We shall see what will come of this. My prediction - nothing good.

UPDATE
It has been confirmed - the psycho reads this blog. And it hurts his little feelings. Well I have this to say in response:

GROW A PAIR! Bring your shit to me DIRECTLY instead of whining in some corner about it.

A Psycho Ex

This manipulative piece of trash you see below is Leo. He is an ex of a very good friend of mine. He must be thwarted via any (edit: legal) means necessary. I don't care if you have to squash the little sumbitch like the nasty little bug that he is.

Edit: The pic has been removed as per my friend's request

My friend asked him to stop communicating with her after his little stunt a couple weeks back (he drove 8 hrs to her house and showed up unannounced after learning she was dating someone new). Instead of complying with her wishes he sent her 15, yes FIFTEEN emails today alone. One of them included a song he wrote for her and recorded in a sound file.

Psycho. Nothing short of psycho.

Make it stop!