Silly Little Girl

My exact thought process. Beware.

I need to write on my blog. Why do I keep a blog if I'm not going to write anything worthwhile?

I should just write the things I'm thinking. Christ, wouldn't that be scary. Those people do not need to know how fucked up I am.

How bad would it be if I admitted I was totally scared that I'm making the wrong choice? Is it too late to change my mind? I only want to change my mind because my colleagues were nice to me today.

I wish I didn't always change my mind.

Writing exactly what I'm thinking is hard. My mind is trained to automatically self edit and that doesn't seem honest.

I hope I like teaching. I hope it likes me. I wish I could still go to the gym down here, but what if I ran into Andy?

I feel really bad about what I'm doing to Andy. Doesn't matter, he's leaving anyway.

This cough medicine is making me stupid. I need more.

Remember the days when it took way more than half a bottle of guafinesin and condeine to fuck me up? Weren't those stupid days.

I wish I was hungry, then I'd have something to do.

I was so wrong about Tiffany.

Which brings me to my fully self-edited, not so real-time thinking process that whoa dudes! I was so wrong about the girl at my work that I hated. No, not that one! Not the other one that I was totally wrong about! The loud-breathing one!

How stupid am I? You'd think by now I'd learn to give people a chance. I had to, in good conscience, confess my leave to Tiffany this week so she wouldn't be totally smacked in the face with it. In doing so, I totally made a friend, and today she took me out to lunch as a "good-bye meal" type of thing. How nice is that? GODDAMNIT, SELF, STOP BEING SUCH A JUDGMENTAL ASSHOLE. Maybe I'd have more friends here if I'd stop judging people. And then maybe I woulnd't want to leave.

Whoa. Epiphany.

Prettier than anything I could write.

I have heard complaints (from me) that I do not post nearly enough pictures. Well, here I am to remedy that.

This is someone who is cooler than you, me and James Dean. You should accept this now, and move on with your life. Also, give him popsicles.

This is the beauty and lovely that is Thesesa. She is everything that is cool in my familia. However, if I suddenly stop posting, it will be because she murdered me down dead for putting pictures of her lovely on the innernet, cuz she don't need no more stalkers, y0.

This is me. I am foolish looking at the best of times.

What? Your kid doesn't sneak into his best friend's room and put dresses on? Whatever. He's still cooler than you, even if he is a little "gender-confused."

This, folks, right here, is why I'm not currently tied down with four-point restraints in a hospital somewhere in East Bumblefuck, PA. I am a firm believer in the idea that it is his beard that gives him the power to keep me sane.

Jesus God, he is sexy.

Also, it looks like he has an electric booger coming out of his nose. In reality, that is a Christmas light.

Or is it?

More later. Cold medicine and exhaustion is making my brain all foggy and incapable of typing coherent sentences. More so than usual, anyway.

 

Evolution of girl and (her) man.

I had my first "serious" boyfriend when I was 13. His name was Andy, and he was about as geeky as geeky gets. Of course, at the time, I thought he was totally cool, yo, because he had a car and was in a band. It was right around this time that I started going round the "bad girl" bend, and Andy was just about the antithesis of "bad." Painfully obedient, achingly, boringly sweet, Andy was just an all around good kid. I was with him for about a year and a half.

As an aside, I met up and shot some pool with him about a year ago, and Jesus God was this kid BORING. And ugly, for that matter. What did I ever see in him?

Next up was Ryan. Poor, sweet Ryan. Ryan wasn't exactly what you'd call a good boy; he was mad emo and "punk", and as such was totally rebellious and didn't care about the man, man! Still, he was a nice kid, and wouldn't ever hurt anyone. At that time, I was a total asshole. To everyone. I picked fights with kids at school whenever I could, ran away from home and slept in fields to prove how badass I was, cheated on poor Ryan to no end, and basically was an all around C. Ryan put up with me for about 8 months.

Cue Dylan. The baby daddy. Dylan and I were just about even on the asshole scale, and that's pretty much all I'll say about that.

Next, as I started cleaning my act up, bit by bit, was a series of casual "boyfriends," each one more lawless than the last, in their own ways. First was BJ, who was a certified sociopath. Then Phil, who did more drugs than anyone I've known to date, and finally, Nik. Ah, Nik, who I love more than breath, but who has an arrest record that puts Robert Downey Jr. to shame.

Ok, I'm not listing all these boys to show you the notches on my lipstick case or whatever, I've got a point, I promise. Here's what I'm getting at: I noticed this morning that when I was a fucked up, badass chick, I gravitated toward the nice boys that I could emotionally beat down and corrupt. The more I got my shit together, the more I gravitated towards men who could do the same to me. This is...unhealthy, no?

But wait! I'm not totally fucked up anymore. Maybe I was 3 years ago, but it's different now. Now, I have my shit together, I'm totally law abiding, and for all intents and purposes, so is my boyfriend. He may have been somewhat "hardened" when I met him, (if by "hardened," you mean "Criminal") but, aside from the recent snag, he's got most of his shit together now. I like good boys now! Seriously, I do! But a girl can still fantasize, right?

Because today, when I was thinking about the next, and last, in the series of hearings related to Nik's case, I remembered that he told me he has to appear as a prisoner in custody, cuffs and all. And when I pictured my sweet, loving, supportive boyfriend in handcuffs, I could feel my body react. Dude...that's hot.

So my point* is, even though I'm a "good" girl, who wants a "good" boy, I still sort of think that the badass side of a man, my man, is ridiculously hot.

*In case you haven't noticed, when I say "point," I really mean "rambling, unsupported and foolish nonsense that totally draws no parallels between one thought and the next." Thank you very much, good bye.

End Scene

Recap from Sunday on -

Sunday - dinner at mi casa su mi madre. Monday morning - fake Christmas with Donovan, sit-down dinner at Nik's Aunt's. Tuesday was Christmas at Nik's aunt on his mom's side, as is usual business. All was enjoyable. Then, yesterday. Oh lord, the saga that was yesterday. Let me recap for you, because it is long and convoluted.

9AM - arrive at courthouse. Courthouse is...unusually quiet. Wait outside courtroom. No judge, no attorney. Hmm. Check in with Sherriff's office. Get told that all judges are on vacation till January. Check in with D.A.'s office. Wait a million hours for them to find his file. Get told that no, we misunderstood. We were supposed to report to the PRISON at 8AM for him to begin his sentence.

You see, we thought that the sentencING was deferred until Wed, that nothing was officially ordered. Oh no, as we learned, it was the SENTENCE itself that was deferred. He was officially given 90 days incarceration, with immediate screening for house arrest. It was then that we realized that though about a million civil rights had been violated, in some ways the judge really cut him a break. He didn't make him report until after Christmas, and Nik is apparently the first in years to get house arrest for this type of offense.

[update - had to edit due to certain googleable tidbits]

Ridiculously long story short, prison sucks, county government sucks, but my loving fiance is home, where I can make him vaccuum and cook cheesesteaks.

The one where I still don't make sense

Because I can't seem to get my head together enough to create a genuine post with like, a theme and transitional sentences and shit, I'm just going to make a list of random and wholly unrelated ideas and events.

1. Christmas is coming, and I am thrilled, because I am nine. I'm insanely in possession of the Christmas spirit this year, and the fact that my house is still not decorated is killing my soul, a little bit.

2. Lauren and I have a date tomorrow night. With each other. But not in a touch-my-boobs kind of way. We're going to drink spirits and watch movies and talk about how boys suck. Except not really, because that would make us 15. Except yes, really, because we're 15.

3. I still hate this girl at my work, with her loud breathing and bad music and idiocy. I want to scratch her big stupid face off.

4. I borrowed Alicia Keys' new album from my son's father's girlfriend, and I must say -  though the other 12 or so tracks leave much to be desired (in my mind) there are two killer tracks. "No One" is, of course, her hit single, and it's a hit for a reason. I like it - it's catchy and classic. However, "Go Ahead" blows it out of the park. I can't remember the last time a song came out in my lifetime that I thought was completely timeless. This song is amazing. The beat is one you can't help but move to, but it's classic. Part of it reminds me of a throwback to Aretha and Patty LaBelle, but there's definitely a newness to it. I would recommend buying the CD just for this song, but I'm sure you can download it somewhere.

5. I cleaned my ring yesterday. Goddamn is it sparkling now.

6. I need to write a FAQ. But it will be a sham, because it's not like anyone actually asks me questions. Ask me questions, you bastards!

7. I can't wait to go home and play video games.

8. I can't wait until midnight, when my paycheck clears.

9. Did I tell ya'll that I skipped that job interview I had last Friday? Well, I did. So there.

10. Lists are hard.

11. I still love Herbert.

12. I realized today that no matter how early you get up, or how well you prepare, there is no quick way to hustle a cranky four year old out the door at 5 in the morning.

13. Mmm, beef stew.

14. Ewww, beef curtains.

15. Word association is fun.

16. My head is all with the achey, for no reason. Stupid head!

17. I love Harry Potter so much.

18. I wish Nik loved Harry Potter so much. Bastard.

19. I wish more people liked me at my job.

20. They probably would if I was a nicer girl.

21. This sucks. I'm done.

And then I shut my big fat mouth and posted stupid pictures

I spent a solid 45 minutes trying to write a post about The Crazy That Ate My Brain. I kept deleting and retyping, yet no matter how many times I revised it still seemed to me that I'd tried to jump on some invisible band wagon, waving my arms and screaming "Look! Over here! I'm crazy, too!" There are a few blogs that I really love that have been brave enough to share some of their struggles, and I almost feel like I'm cheapening their experiences by bitching about my own miniscule bullshit. So! Instead!

I'm just going to post dumb pictures of things that made me feel like maybe Crazy wasn't Eating My Brain.

I'm sorry. All I have is a crappy camera phone. Anyway, pictured is my son, holding the doll I lovingly and meticulously made out of play-dough. She had awesome string hair, a headband that matched her belt, and a pretty blue dress. She had eyebrows and pretty facial features and big, full, red lips. I made her able to stand on her own. I loved her. My son loathed her. As you can see in the picture, his eyes are full of malicious spirit, and he's ready to Fuck Her Up. First, though, he asked me what her name was. I decided she should be a Felicia. He decided she should be Felicia Poopy. The child obviously lacks any true respect for my creative masterpieces.

Felicia Poopy was completed manhandled, and after chasing my child around my living room (and the basket of laundry you see back there) I finally retrieved her, but alas, the damage was done.

Her left eyebrow is missing, her lips got rearranged, her boobs got smushed, and she is obviously mega fucking pissed about it. Felicia Poopy would like to know if you got a problem, because if you do, we can go right now.

Hem. Anyway. That brings us to today, where I am at work, being mad buzy buzy bee, y0. I was wicked productive this morning, and the only break I took all day (besides this fucking entry) was to draw this:

Clearly, that is Herbert, and Herbert will continue to rock my socks on the whiteboard until the end of days. Or, January. Whichever comes first.

Also pictured: Uneven Christmas trees with presents that may have come from the American Red Cross, and that spiral weird-fuck tree thing I've had forever.

 

A surprisingly pleasant turnout.

The weather yesterday morning did not bode well for a good day. When I woke up at 7:30, it was dreary and wet and just this side of freezing. I dragged myself out of the comfort of my deliciously warm and soft bed anyway and started getting our shit together for the game.

We got down there around 11am, and walked 20837452938 miles to meet up with Tara, who was there with her boyfriend and his friends. We ate their food while I drank margarita straight from a Cuervo jug. After a bit we went to the entire other end of the lot (another 8924758923745 miles) to meet up with Nik's friend, Bobby. As an aside, Bobby is adorable. Dead ringer for a fairer Matt Damon. Gah.

Eventually we headed up to the stadium. After another 892745897234 miles and 9082758934759834753947 stairs, we found our seats. I was surprised by how easily I could see everything on the field from that high up.

The Eagles made a pitiful showing in the first half. The only good play - a beautifully executed flea flicker that sent a t-d into the endzone - was destroyed by a stupid holding penalty on the part of one, LJ Smith. Bastard. Three interceptions were thrown and the Dolphins immediately scored on an eighty-some yard kick return. I was disgusted.

Aside from that, I was freezing my ass off. I was heavily layered up top, but woefully underdressed on the bottom in simple long johns and jeans. As I looked around I could have kicked myself - it never occured to me to bring a blanket. Nik had a stomachache all morning that was progressing badly, we were both miserably congested and freezing, and the Birds were making us near suicidal. At half time, we decided to call it quits and head home.

Of course, immediately after we left the Eagles started playing something that actually resembled good football, and we took the game back to win, 17-7. It was ok, neither of us minded too badly, since the day had still been a major success, due to the fact that right before we began to climb the stairs into the stadium, Nik went down on one knee, presented a diamond solitaire, and asked me to be his wife.

I said "Yes."