Delusions of Grandeur

I Entered A Church And Didn't Burst Into Flames

2011-07-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

Even though Pat Robertson bends his head in pained prayer for me when he hears me say it...

Dear Heavenly Father, I ask that you protect the church from the abomination of Suzi Que & that you will rain strings of garlic and crucifixes down upon the fellow parishoners so that they might fight off her evil...Oh, and a silver bullet or spike to drive through her heart wouldn't hurt...Rock on, Big G!

I went to church this morning.

No, no, I haven't lost my mind or belief in the tenet of freedom of thought. There's this really cute little Unitarian church that I discovered awhile back because of their lecture series on B.F. Skinner's "About Freedom". I don't why but today I felt like some insightful discussion would be a good thing. I mean, in what other church will the band play "Without Love" by the Doobie Brothers and encourage you to dance? Today was the Native American tradition of the "talking stick" and it was really cool. I had nothing to add, it was just a day of listening for me...and that's rare so I went with the silence.
"Our god is an awesome god and he reigns from Heaven above..."

It's been a weekend full of parties for me and I would love to show you pictures of me and my smiling friends being all fabulous and stuff...
but, really, who gives a shit? That and my computer is on its last leg and I can't get any of the pictures of my fabulous, charmed life to load. Bummer, dude!

Last night was a friend's graduation from nursing school. I had a new dress, was feeling all cute with my new haircut and went to the bathroom to discover this:

My teeth were a lovely deep shade of eggplant. Moral of the story: Remain humble and don't let your vanity get the best of you. Drats! Why do some people get to be arrogant assholes and I don't? And, truth be known, my hair looks more like a girl from the 1800s who had her locks cut by an angry nun as punishment for, oddly enough, vanity.

Okay, so maybe that analogy only makes sense to me but picture a young child's "I had lice" homemade haircut done by mom.

Have a good, long weekend!

Memorable First Date

2011-06-29T13:38:00.000-07:00

WARNING: Due to me being a numbskull when it comes to "techy" things, you might need a magnifying glass to read the latter part of this post.

First dates are all pretty memorable to me because they are so few and far between. This is not only due to the fact that I'm a warty hag (kidding) but also because I'm a chronic relationship jumper. I have one date and presto...instant relationship. It's almost like, "Just add wine", and you can have me as your girlfriend...forever.

Probably the most memorable date to me, however, was THE FIRST DATE...EVER. Now, I have always been a late-bloomer. I did everything at least a few years after my friends. I learn through observation and what I saw of dating didn't seem appealing...

Homeroom my sophomore year

It seemed pretty terrible, actually. Teenage boys are G-R-O-S-S. Zitty, bad breath, stinky shoes, poorly-fitting clothes, they made bad jokes about your hair and makeup and then expected you to suck face with them later, which the idea of "sucking face" scared the crap out of me because: 1) I hadn't tried it with anything or one other than a My Buddy doll and 2) I just KNEW it would lead to sex.

Hey, you sexy thang, remember me?

But then there was Michael...*deep, dreamy sighs*... Michael. I felt he was a real step above the rest because he was getting his pilot's license, covered his books in weird aviation maps, and he wanted to be an ornithologist. There were red flags, too, like his caterpillar-like mustache, his obsession with Metallica, and the fact that he openly bragged about his father being his best friend. Who does that at 17?!

Fast forward through introductions, me waiting and waiting and then finally asking him out, and my friends making fun of me being in love with a guy who wore purple button-up shirts and black jeans. The night of the date, he comes to pick me up and presents my mother with an itinerary for the date with times included. Wrong move. My mom, who's just a tad rough around the edges and not used to Michael's Beaver Cleaver ways, says, "Well, do you have you business card and resume, too?" My mom, concerned about my extreme shyness and not having had a date by the time I was 16, was so thrilled for an actual boy to take me out that she didn't even set a curfew. To seem more lady-like, I made her come up with one. Alright, I digress...

Anyway, we did the typical thing: a movie. I think it was one of the Brady Bunch remakes, perfect for two high school nerds. So, the date starts narrowing to an end and I was pretty pleased that he had made zero attempts at hitting any bases. Then...on the way home...he turns on the dark dirt road that IS the LONG way home. I gulp. He puts a Led Zepplin tape on. The song...Kashmir. Even at that tender age I KNEW that song = SEX. Michael takes the plunge and pulls over, leans into me and I realize that I still have my seatbelt on. I am trapped in this moment so I have to let it happen. And it does. And it is awful.

It was like a Mack truck had plowed over my nubile teenage face, that caterpillar-like mustache waging a war against the patch of skin between my upper lip and nose. I heard cartilage in my nose crack, I felt mustache-burns...there would be no hiding this from my mother. I realize now I'm rambling but the date basically ends like this: He full-on cops a feel of my A-cup, I slap him away and say something stupid like, "Nuh-uh, Mister. I am tight as a clam"... And Mr. Michael never talks to me again. I am heart-broken that a fellow nerdster didn't appreciate my chaste ways...and pine for him the remaining years of high school. Sad but true.

Luckily, as I've aged I have perfected my technique...

Let"s just hope he has, too.

This nonsense I wrote for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

Sir Beards A' Lot

2011-06-28T13:33:00.000-07:00

This is kind of how I'm feeling today and let me tell you why...

Just call this the summer of the beard. Expect to hear frequent stories about facial hair (hopefully not mine) because a beard you could lose your youngest child in seems to be en vogue for a certain crowd....

Exhibit A: Lovingly referred to as the Indie Jesus, Hipster Haysoos, Modern Mohammed...

There are various combinations of how this guy presents himself (shortened hair, maybe some cut-off, oversized Wranglers, a trucker cap, I've even seen a camo coat or two) but he will ALWAYS wear worn-in second-hand clothes and he will ALWAYS have a PBR in his hand (unless in recovery)...and he will ALWAYS love music by bands you've never heard of. He will be well-read, play guitar, enjoys a little marijuana on a warm summer night with his friends and eats only locally-grown food and drinks only fair-trade coffee or tea. He might smoke cigarettes but they will only be American Spirit and he will definitely ALWAYS roll his own. All of this stuff I love, too, but I'm a little put-off by the Beardy-Weirdy Man these days. Why? Because I was attacked by one at a cookout over the weekend. Oh, and did I mention it was my good friend's boyfriend? Yes, my friends, the Hipster Haysoos might preach all love and gentleness BUT...but...they are savage, rabid beasts with an apparent affinity for some other rare goody: Redheads.

So, I was standing in line for the bathroom at said cookout enjoying my wine buzz and simply waiting when someone walks up behind me, grabs me around my waist to pull me closer into them and the hand starts inching upward. When I turn around, all I see is this

next to my cheek and reeking of beer and whatever grossness a beard holds. It's Mr. X... and he is groping and spooning me outside the freaking bathroom. I tell him he needs to find his girlfriend and he has the nerve to say, "You really think so?" What the hell? Of course...

After the gruesome details of the story are relayed to a litany of female friends for advice on the situation, guess who the friend is mad at? Moi. Holy Larry, get a backbone, girl! There are plenty of other Beards out there...maybe even one that won't fondle your friends How can you tell the difference in them anyway? I'm assuming it's just trial and error. The long, bushy black one didn't work for you? Find a mid-length chestnut one with an added fu manchu!

So, I'll be keeping my happy haunches at home for awhile because people just can't behave. How was your weekend? Were you attacked by a 6 foot beard?

A Random Monday Post

2011-03-21T16:12:00.000-07:00

I was listening to a radio show about this particular Steinbeck book and I fell in love with this excerpt:

"I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment." (John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley)

If this doesn't describe the cadence of my life, then nothing does. Live large, with zest, be creative and have no regrets!

Anyway, know this guy?

It's Garrison Keillor...and I have some good news: He's retiring!!!!! I hope this means that his stinkin' radio show, 'A Prairie Home Companion" is retiring, too. It is the most boring, ridiculous show EV-er and it takes up 2 hours of radio time that I'm CERTAIN can be filled with something less...less... well, something less Garrison Keillor. Look, I am a nerd and I love nerd humor probably more than a person should BUT...this show is beyond nerd humor. When I hear the show, I envision the audience being full of school teacher retirees wearing elastic-waisted khakis. You know, the "Vera Bradley Crowd"...

Yes. I AM a snob. But I'm a cerebral snob... Anyway, a 2 hour show full of bad jokes, Garrison Keillor's painfully snooze-worthy stories about Lake Woebegone, and THE worst music I have ever heard...I would rather be beaten with a stick by a quilted-bag-toting retiree...

And now here's something we hope you really like...

I'm kind of obsessed with pirates and the idea that they still exist, so here ya go... Arrr!

Somali pirates have put their ransom prices "on sale". Yes, they are decreasing their ransoms by 20% because those rescuing hostages aren't able to afford the ransoms SOooo...the pirates currently have too many hostages. These guys are shrewd businessmen, huh? Dang, just quit taking people!

For a limited time only, free your hostage at rock-bottom prices! We're overstocked and everything (er, everyone) must go!

And here is a gratuitous picture of me and my grad school buddies, who happen to be some of my best friends. Yet another birthday celebration...

Ugh. My friends are all disgustingly beautiful...

*Siiiiiiiigh* Monday, monday...

Party Hardy

2011-03-20T12:06:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to a trashed house that smelled like a good time. It reeked of champagne, pear vodka, cheap beer...and man. No, no, don't get excited for me. I didn't get lucky and, frankly, I didn't like the way this man smelled. Really, man-smell makes me gag and I need to move on from the topic before my acid reflux resurfaces... Said man was my best friend's faux boyfriend and had split a cab with us. They stayed on the couch... and I went to bed with my cats.

Last night, we celebrated... come on, Oprah, help me out...

Lori's 30th Birthdaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!!!

Beautiful lady friends at dinner. I love that I'm so pale that the flash bounces off my skin... Jamie, the woman next to me, has given up alcohol for Lent. I know it's supposed to be about sacrifice but...daaaaaaaaang...

Amber, one of my best friends, and me. The gin sodas were having an effect by this point, to say the least...droopy eyes. You know, Amber forced all of us to wear a lei but I'm now noticing how she doesn't have one...sneaky, sneaky.

Brittany trying to tempt me with some cheesecake but I resisted the devil. "Get thee behind me, Satan!", I told her as I smacked the plate out of her hand and wrestled her to the ground.

Well, I can't get the other pictures to upload so I'm giving up. It was a crazy night, full of dancing and laughter.

Well, it's been a busy, fun weekend. How has yours gone? Happy Monday!!!!

Ugliness

2011-03-19T07:48:00.000-07:00

For some reason, this picture really freaks me out.

Well, I awoke feeling spunky and had planned on writing about something completely vapid and silly. Then I read others' posts. Depression, death, tumultuous change...it deflated my bubble of laughs and made me reflect on my own life (as we selfish ones are prone to do).

It has been a cold, bleak winter and I desperately need sun. It appears I am not the only one and as much as I want to glean comfort from company, I do not. There are times I feel so lonely, hollow that I literally ache. I would prevent anyone from feeling such desolation of the soul if I could. I'm on the continued journey of living a robust, fulfilled life and of being appreciative for all that I have, being thankful and mindful of every person and every moment. I want to love more fully, more innocently, and I am struggling with this. Anger, jealousy, selfishness all get in the way. I can be pretty ugly.

I am a work in progress. I remind myself that I am merely doing the best that I can at any given time...but, really, am I?

My challenge for the week is to be honest with myself and others, decrease my defensiveness, and REALLY do my best. Also...I want to have one week that is completely, totally, absolutely free of any bad behavior...no tantrums, thinking before I speak, and attempting, attempting to practice empathy (*deep sighs*). I have the tendency to not only shoot from the hip but shoot from the mouth, as well. I purposely try to wound with words and, to be honest, I gain a sense of power and satisfaction at times. The scary thing is how automatic the words just surface and fly from my mouth...and how good I am at it. If my momma heard some of the things that spew from this face, she would either blush or give me a high five depending on her mood (now you know where I get it from). Don't piss me off!!!

Whisper Sweet Nuthins In My Ear...Or Just Lick It

2011-02-28T16:33:00.000-08:00

Well, that's a cool trick to get the baby to smile....

Anyway, if the presenter in my training had gingerly licked my ear every so often just like this nice little girl is doing for her brother, I might not have embarrassed myself by nodding off so much today. Just saying...

If anyone who reads this is in the field of human resources, let me go ahead and apologize for being offensive...because I'm gonna. How do you sleep at night?! How do you get up in the mornings and actually make it to work?! I don't want to go so far as to use the word 'pointless' but...I mean, if it fits into the job description... Do you know what your trainings DO to people? And if your profession is basically to interact with and inform humans, how come you have a hard time relating to them? Why are so many of you such dry little toads and...not personable?

I had to attend an all-day training today that was designed and facilitated by HR. By 9:30am, I was ready to shoot myself in the face. If I ever see another PowerPoint presentation with that silly graphic of the pot-bellied stick-man scratching his head, the light bulb over him flashing or of him dancing or of him in the boat paddling, question marks in varying sizes in an arc over the boat, well, I just might shoot myself in the face...ok, in the foot at the very least. Really, HR. Just give us our damn employee handbooks and let us figure stuff out on our own! If I have questions, you will be the first to know...I promise! Just for you, I will contact you next week and ask what to do in case of a fire. Or what number to call if I want to rat out a colleague on allegations of fraud. Or even what to do if I give someone the wrong dose of medication, which I shouldn't be doing...but I'll even let you tell me that! I don't need you to explain every page of it through a prepared presentation with those crappy canned clip-art graphics (that make me crazy) and I really don't need you to print off handouts of said presentation. GAWD!!!! Save a tree, save some paper...save an employee!

To make matters worse, the lady who sat behind me had GERD or some bad reflux or something. She kept gurgle-burping in a way that reminded me of an ostrich. Yes, ostriches gurgle-burp when they're feeling aggressive. I've had my fair share of ostrich run-ins at petting zoos. One time, I threw a big carrot at one, he caught it mid-air, swallowed it whole then stared right at me like, "What'd you think about that, bitch?" He even cocked his head! But that's a whole other post.

Oh, and I didn't even complete my online trainings today, HR. I skipped them, went straight to the assessments and took them until I passed. HA!

Happy Gurgle-Burping! What did your Monday unfold?

The Idiot, the Fool, the Skank...

2011-02-26T17:33:00.000-08:00

Don't you hate it when you realize you're being stupid? And I'm not just being stupid, I'm being completely, ridiculously idiotic...oh, and I'm being a skank, too. What's worse is that there are times when I just don't care and I justify myself. I admitted in a previous post that I'm on a mission of self-exploration and will hopefully develop the strength to rescue myself from inevitable disaster as a result. I'm hoping to evolve a little during that time but I don't have faith that I will be able to do that. I'm the equivalent of an emotional neanderthal. It will be eons before I reach any enlightenment in that area. Go ahead and judge me if you can possibly figure out what I'm talking about. I don't care. It's my blog, I'm just being honest, and I judge myself about a million times a day so that's taken care of, thankyouverymuch.

There are times when we believe what we want to believe, we see what we want to see. We choose our reality. In my profession, we call this a delusion. Ahhh...this blog is aptly named as I am amidst the biggest delusion of my life. I feel like a cardboard cutout blankly placed in still-frame scenes in the mind a real sadistic asshole. I even feel 2-D, like I lack substance. At times, things seem so real and tangible and I feel that all will be well. At times, I feel there is possibility and all is not a lost cause BUT that IS the delusion. I have to separate, sift, filter out the "filler", the "fluff" that gives me the illusion that everything IS okay...because it is NOT! What IS genuine? I'm certainly not. Right now, I'm able to function because I'm well-defendend psychologically. I have developed a host of cognitive distortions that, oddly enough, keep me sane. Today, however, those distortions are nowhere to be found and I am seeing things through the lens of reality. It's painful , raw but necessary. I feel vulnerable, exposed, wounded, and mostly...I just feel lonely.

I need to snap out of my stupor. I need to surrender my pipe dreams and to stop trying to make something of them because I am alone in this. Daily, I question, "How in the hell did I get here?" I need to develop a back bone, some self-respect, and I need to walk --no, RUN-- from this situation and quit being the fool. And mostly, I need to stop being a skank.

I just need to love myself more.

Misty, Water-Colored Memories...Of the 1990s

2011-02-19T16:30:00.000-08:00

Oh, youth. Why do so many people long to return to their high school days? Why do so many people fancy themselves to have been so much more attractive and have had so much more fun in their youth? Because our memories are FALSE. Sorry. They just are. High school wasn't FUN...it was torture. It was like a 4 year-long hazing before being initiated into adulthood. I was awkward, painfully shy, even more painfully self-destructive and paranoid. I had a total of 4 friends, 2 of whom were pregnant or had had children by the time we graduated so my weekends were spent in Unhappy Teen Mom Hell. I didn't get invited to a single party, went on a total of 3 dates (one with a guy who pretended to type throughout an entire movie) but... the worst part of it? I had yet to discover hair product!

Exhibit A

Well, the quality is compromised but I am the redhaired Q-Tip in the "gunney sack" dress. With pumps. Yes, I said 'pumps' as in "and a bump". Okay, not enough to convince you of my need for at least a little pomade?
Try Exhibit B ...
It might look relatively tame here BUT I was wearing so much Aqua Net on that helmet (a la news anchor), I probably should have been banned by the EPA.

So, in hindsight, we might have had fewer wrinkles but we were dumb, naive, misguided, had poor fashion sense ( I tucked in my T-shirts for chrissakes), no straightening irons or Frizz-Ease, had terrible taste in guys/ girls and listened to Ace of Base. (YES...you did).

Gotta love the 90s...and fall to our knees after realizing they are behind us. Have a great weekend!

A Top 10 List

2011-02-17T06:28:00.000-08:00

Well, I screwed up and used an incorrect prompt for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Since I squeezed my brain's last useful juices to get this written, I'm going to go with it.

A Top 10 List of Things I Would Rather Do Than Have Sex With David Letterman

Let me start off by saying that I think David Letterman is kind of cute...and every person has their price, so I've heard... right? RIGHT?! Kidding...kind of. (Hey, I'm poor, he's not...it could work). Anyway, here is my list:

10. I would rather floss his gap.
9. Put sunscreen on his bald spot (I'm sure he has one somewhere).

8. Share body oil with Richard Simmons.
7. Shave Dave's back. Heck, shave MY back.

6. Have lunch with Rush Limbaugh, Mike Savage, Ann Coulter, and Glenn Beck...at the same time!

5. Eat liver.

4. See Al Franken in adult diapers, wearing bunny ears and holding a teddy bear.

3. Flirt with Prince Charles at a bar....and give him my number.

2. Jeggings...need I say more?

And, finally...

1. I would rather bathe in David Letterman's used bath water than have sex with him.

And now that we are all thoroughly grossed out, I bid you adieu!

That Which Doesn't Kill Us...

2011-02-15T10:24:00.000-08:00

So, a return. MY return, two holidays and two months later. Were you scared I had been lying in a pool of my own waste and surrounded by my hungry cats, awaiting rescue for all that time?

Life has been a roller coaster. If I ever insinuate that the ride has been fun, I am lying. Obviously, I cannot go into full details on this dinky little blog but I can say this much: My emotional limits have been tested. My constitution, resilience, patience, affective endurance have all been pushed to their extremes. Amazingly, I haven't cracked...but I'm pretty close. I am learning that I am as strong as I thought yet more permeable in some ways than I realized. Things and people flow into my life, ebb away and remain on the fringe...but their impact stays with me. I am forever changed.

I plan on this just being a cathartic rambling, a binging and purging of thought for myself so bear with me...

I'll start with the good stuff first:

Yes...yessssss!!!! I finally did it, I quit my job in residential treatment nearly 1 month ago. I start my new job on Monday (fast, huh?) It's bittersweet in that I do miss some of the people I worked with but the work environment and the upper management became greedy little soul-sucking vampires cracking their whips at me to prioritize work in a way that I disagreed with. My new job entails little actual 1:1 therapy so it will be a welcome reprieve from residential work. I love the therapeutic process but the past few months have been emotionally top-heavy in my personal life. I'm a trained and licensed therapist but...I am human. There is only so much I can handle, being an emotional midget and all (not PC BUT 'little person' didn't have the impact I wanted). I can't imagine feeling how I feel today and still be working that job. My future clientele are children ages 0-3 and I am jumping into it with an open mind and a hopeful heart. We have to work so why can't it be a labor of love? Or at least a labor with sweet little innocent babies that can't curse at you? Did I mention the great benefits...eh?

Speaking of love, guess who is doing a thorough inspection of her soul to resurrect its meaning?

Yep! Raising my hand and waving it right here. Life has thrown me some doozies of curve balls. I realize how jaded I had become and I quit paying attention to my own life and how my negativity could affect others. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except banalities, desires that were rooted in lesser emotions. No one mattered but me and the result? People I love are suffering. Why am I using the past tense when all of this is very much rooted in the present? Oh, I digress...

No magical thinking here or weird New-Agey stuff (although I DO lean more that way) but I cannot believe that mere circumstance led to the turn of events over the past months. What else can happen that will make me realize that something in this universe is trying to get my attention? I need to fucking wake up, pay attention and do something. I have to be woman enough to admit fault and bold enough to commit to CHANGE!!!! To keep living as I have been is to take everything and everyone for granted, to acknowledge only myself, to suffer quietly, alone; to lack love, joy, happiness, and to not rejoice in a goddamn thing. I have lost sight of love, its power. My personal tenet in life has always been to love purely, without judgement, without condition; to practice patience, kindness, and to let those whom I love KNOW it...always. Sometime in the past year, I have evolved into some kind of demanding, callous, rejecting, jealous, heavy-drinking...toad. Specifically, this toad

because it is toxic and will devour pretty much anything that crosses its path (Sonoran Desert Toad, FYI). That's me! Love is not demanding or jealous or transient or conditional or spiteful or rejecting or solely about the self. But I am working on recentering. Wish me luck and wisdom because I need it. It's scary when you finally wake up and realize how far you have strayed from yourself. You work hard to lay the ground work only to frivolously dig it up. So, to those of you who know me intimately and personally (yet STILL don't 'Follow' me...humph), know that I still have that trace of purity in my soul and love you unconditionally. I need some time to find my equilibrium again. But, hey, some of you do, too (*wink wink*). Looove Looove Looove...

What new journeys have you all begun since I've been MIA from Blogger-Ville? I wish YOU love, wisdom...and just a bit of luck.

Happy Freaking Holidays

2010-12-25T11:02:00.000-08:00

This Christmas, I'm feeling as weird and awkward as Nancy Reagan sitting on Mr. T's lap.

Yes, that's what I said...

Things are a bit, umm, squirrely in my household so the decision for me to stay home while E. traveled to Tennessee was made. So, here I am, alone. At Christmas. And if you know anything about me at all you will know that I am fine with that. Sometimes I wish I had that sense of attachment to people, to traditions, to family that most others seem to possess. But I just don't. I love people (some of them ,anyway), I love, love, love my family, and traditions are cool...if you can remember to keep them going. You know, I can't even remember what I did or who I saw last Christmas, what I gave or what I got.

In general, this Christmas, I am feeling like this...

on the inside. Yes, folks, if I could depict my current mental state, this is it. A tangled, jumbled, toxic web of chaos and artificial happiness...with a dash of Tannenbaum and pine cones...just to be festive. Oh, I won't dwell on the subject. I hope you and yours are having a hot-diggity-dog damn good time!

There is beautiful, fluffy snow on the ground, I am off work for 48 full, wonderful hours and I have plenty of wine to keep me company. I plan on turning on some music, pouring a cup of cheer and just seeing what unfolds. I can always turn to my neighbors if I need actual human contact but for now, I am looking forward to immersing myself into solitude and doing a little introspection, soul-searching, if you will. My best friend told me this is what she fears for me in my future...me ending up alone. You know, the sterotyped image: Spinster eating popcorn and working crossword puzzle falls from her Lazy-Boy recliner, can't get up and is forced to lie in a pool of her own waste for 36 hours before she's dicovered, her 14 cats circling her. What's that saying? One bad relationship away from becoming a crazy cat lady? I digress...

Being alone: It's not so bad. I kind of like myself, if you can't tell. I feel we are so involved in each others' business. A society of constant contact...social networking, cell phones, GPS...it's suffocating. Okay, how can I say that then post it on a blog? I laugh at my own hypocrisy sometimes. Oh, well. Hardly anyone lives up to their ideals. If they do, they're usually those annoyingly intense and dogmatic people who are insufferable and generally a pain in the ass to be around. The ones that tell you what to eat, try to convince you your way of doing things is flawed and make you think, "Would you just shut the fuck up?!", every time they're around. Whoa...I'm rambling.

So, what traditions do you remember to carry on from year to year? And any tips or suggestions on how to become more attached to people and traditions?

Well, I'm off to check my fake Facebook account to troll around profiles of people I went to high school with to see how fat and old-looking they've gotten. Hey, don't judge! You know you do it, too! Anyhoo...Joyeux Noel!!!!

Some of My Favorite Things: Nerd Alert

2010-12-11T07:20:00.000-08:00

Do you ever wake up in the morning, look at yourself and think, "Damn! I am UUuuuuugleeeee!" Well, it's one of those mornings. I slept for something like 10 hours but I would hardly call it "Beauty Sleep".

As I write, there is a man standing on my front steps surveying my yard. He appears to be some yuppie who was bumbling home from the annoyingly overcrowded farmer's market in my neighborhood. He's really studying my yard...and I'm a bit embarrassed. It's like when you decide to wear a skirt but you don't feel like shaving. You hope no one notices but then the sun highlights your legs just so...and your whiskers are beaming in all their glory. I still have dead, mangled sunflower stems lining my sidewalk and I never bothered to dig up the garden so it's teeming with broccoli that looks like a mini-forest in Bavaria. I do have Christmas decorations on the door... but I also have a ceramic jack-o-lantern and rotten pumpkin on my porch. *shrug* I'll do something about that today...maybe. Hell, maybe I'll throw a turkey and some easter eggs out there and just have a stinking, rotting smorgasboard of decoration for all seasons.

Okay, now for the actual topic of this post: My Favorite Things = Words. They excite me, make me feel funny in places where I thought blood flow had long ago ceased. When I was 7, my mother did something that, in looking back, was out of character for her but it's the best memory of my childhood (well, top 10 at least). She bought me a dictionary. A big, fat, Webster's dictionary for youth that had pictures randomly scattered through it...and it changed my life. I HEART WORDS, all words, even foreign words like 'perestroika' and 'glastnost' and 'haricots verts'. Okay, there are a few words that I detest, like 'pudding' and 'moisten', but you get what I'm saying. Here are some of my personal favorites: Circumlocution, erudite, obsequious, tectonic (a topic, but a cool word), aberration, alacrity, modicum, vociferous, sanguine, pecuniary....just to name a few. I won't bore you with too many more. Also, any kind of medical or biological terms really rev my motor.

So, what are some of your favorite things?

Thanksgiving 2010

2010-11-30T06:49:00.000-08:00

I just read a post where the lady says 'vagina' a lot and I'm a little jealo us. My post is about my Nannie. 'Nannie' and 'vagina' do not go together...ever.

On Thanksgiving day, I planned on going to western Kentucky to visit my father's family, who I haven't seen/ talked to in 7 years. (It's a long story that involves a murder investigation, no lie). However, that's not what I did. Instead, I enjoyed some Waffle House and went to the casino for bloody marys and poker. Okay, judge me. But if you had an ax to grind with family for nearly a decade and then they suddenly invite you to Thanksgiving dinner, wouldn't you be a little hesitant? I didn't know if I was going to be ambushed by the film crew for the Maury Povich show when I got there or what. (Can someone say paranoid?) Needless to say, strong drinks and blowing money unnecessarily was a much more viable option for me...and that's what I did.

By Saturday, I had a change of heart. Honestly? I was curious as hell so I made the trip. Here I am with my father's sister and his mother who is now in a nursing home:

And you know what? It was a wonderful visit! My aunt gave me tons of pictures and memorabilia from my father's childhood and my childhood, too. My mother was never good at archiving her children so I really have nothing to remind myself I was ever young and little...until now. My grandmother (Nannie) was beyond ecstatic to see me. She kept touching my hair, telling me I should leave it alone and let it be curly. My poor sweet Nannie. She had a stroke in 2003 that left her completely debilitated on her right side. This is a woman who has survived histoplasmosis, a ruptured appendix, Rocky Mountain spotted fever; she was shot in the head by her brother-in-law (accident, they were shooting chickens in the yard) AND survived another gunshot to the throat (life was rough in Alabamy). She's had colon cancer, a stroke, and has lived to tell about it. I hate that she was caught in the middle of the weirdness between me and her caretakers. But that's all in the past. I am moving forward and am excited about having them in my life once again.

So..........how was your Thanksgiving?

Bitch-Fest Monday

2010-11-22T06:51:00.000-08:00

Since I usually gripe a whole bunch on Mondays, I will now refer to it as "Bitch-Fest Monday". However, I don't really feel like bitching today (Hell might be frozen right now). Okay, one little thing: I have to work a 12 hour day.

I was feeling particularly surly so I took a walk to clear my mind. Down the street a bit, in the distant stretch before me, I detected an unusual creature coming my way. It was red-ish and gold-ish and bald all over. Can you guess what it is?

Yes! A Tibetan monk! Only 1, not a flock of them roosting in a tree (although, admittedly, that would have been much cooler), but considering I live in Kentucky, it's a rare sight, indeed. AND...he was wearing Soft Spots and black dress socks. As he passed, a wave of calm and peace washed over me and I thought, "A fucken Tibetan monk on Speed Avenue; well I'll be damned." (Oh, and if you've never tried on a pair of Soft Spots at Wal-Mart, you really should. There's a reason they're so well-loved by the aged. Can you say, "COOooooomfy"?!)

On another note, I would personally like to thank Victoria's Secret for making me feel like a warty toad today. I never buy anything there, I just use those "Free Thong" coupons so now they try to entice me to actually pay cash money for their goods with the frequent delivery of their catalogs. And they almost have me...almost. Then I remind myself, "You are not 5'11", you are not 19, and you will not have as much success with those "cheeky" panties as that young nubile model so surrender the pipe dream and stick to the Hanes Her Ways."

Well, I hope your Monday is smashing.

Pagan Poetry

2010-11-15T06:04:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have days where you feel like this?

Well, hell yeah, it's Monday. I'm breaking from routine and NOT bitching, moaning, or complaining about this most cursed day. Instead, I feel like writing poetry or whatever it is that I like to write. It's cold, overcast and there is so much contrast in all of the colors around me. The catch is that I don't have time to write anything because I have to go into work 3 hours early (Nope. I won't even complain about that). What to do? I'll post something from the recesses of yesteryear, chosen at random. And here it is...sans title because, yep! I hate labels. And formatting is off because of the blog template. It's vague but I know what I was referring to. Emily Dickinson, eat your heart out.

Date: 12/7/2003

A tear in my heart, crying that never ceases. Gauzy mornings, fine-lines crossing into afternoon, entire days dragging on as lazily as love. These words printed, blunt and black, choke on white backgrounds. White, the color of infection, the birth of decay. Falling from my tongue, I choke on these words, stifled, filling the empty cavity of my mouth like cotton from the hollows of medicine bottles, offering no remedy only suffocation. If not these words, then what do I possess? We cannot own one another; we are not even the proprietor of our own soul.

Whoa...that was deep and a little schizophrenic. My imagery is a little all over the place. *shrug* Happy Monday!

Half of the Time I'm Gone and I Don't Know Where...

2010-11-04T16:02:00.001-07:00

Today the air was clear, sharp and felt to have a puritive effect on my mind. I stopped, looked at the sky: blue, sun peeking over clouds yet it rained , seemingly, only where I stood.

Sometimes I go through this life and feel as I've carved out this nice, comfortable little niche. It's a safe retreat from the daring that living requires. It is mind-numbing comfort. How often do you go about the world and use all of your senses? Realistically, we use all of our senses all of the time (and our brains, too, despite popular myth)...but how often can you name specifically what they have identified, in other words, how often do you truly feel? Not just bumbling about, feeling the toe you've stumped on the bed while making it or the papercut from filing the mass of documents on your desk, or even the embarrassment of being yelled at by a supervisor,
maintaining responsibilites, the things we think we have to do to sustain life but tasting, touching, smelling, feeling, feeling, every minute detail? I stopped on the sidewalk in front of a friend's house today because I was literally paralyzed by the smell of the leaves. I just stood there like a crazy person, my eyes closed and I could literally taste the dust the wind kicked up as it spread the leaves around on the street and along the tires of the parked cars. It reminded me of childhood and trick-or-treating and how I was the only one who actually liked the cheap candy in the black or orange wax paper that smelled a little like pee on your hands.

I've been walking around comatose for awhile. It's time to reinvigorate my spirit and start taking chances, leaps, and bounds into the unknown. I read a quote last night that began, "Freedom is in the unknown" (John C. Lilly, philosopher) and as I meditated on this (and the much longer portion of it), something in me began to awaken. I need to step out of my comfort zone. It's strange. As I write this, the front door ha just swung open as if to say, "Look, opportunity awaits." Yes, I am a little nuts, but I assume you already guessed this. Alright, so now that I feel the need to break out of this cozy little shell the question remains: What do I do?

If you could break out and do something completely unexpected and maybe just a little irresponsible, what would you do?

Pink Slip

2010-11-01T18:54:00.000-07:00

As if Mondays didn't stink enough, there was a little bit of this floating around the office today like the stink of an obese man with poor hygiene (and it wasn't the medical records guy this time):

No, no. I was spared because my boss really is a sadist, hates me and feels that releasing me into the boughs of freedom would be too kind. He likes to twist the spike of his heels into my back. Instead, he fires my best friend at work.

When I entered into the profession of therapist, I thought, "Job security". There's no shortage of crazy people or people with "problems". Couples, bratty kids, drug addicts, alcoholics, sexual predators, dysfunctional families, trauma... I mean, there's fodder for eternity, right? Nope. Not when the state pays your bills. My state is broke. So, because my company decided that one of us who provides THE essential service that keeps them in business is dispensible, one of us got the cut. And we did what good therapists do. She called me to her office and we had a good cry together.

Yeah, just like that. There, there...

I'm sick because I don't know why she was eliminated and I wasn't. She loved her job. I tolerate mine because I have to. She completed her paperwork in a timely manner. I...well, I don't. Mostly because I'm pulled in a million directions but, still. I SUCK at paperwork and I focus on it last because I wasn't trained in paperwork. Well, yes I was because, let's face it, that's what grad school is: paperwork. So scratch that sentiment. Anyway, I'm "high brow" and I like to think I'm taking the ethical high road by proclaiming my focus is on client care. Although the client drives me nuts most of the time, he/she is still my primary concern, not the date some document was turned in.

It's fucking scary. I hate this job but I want to be the one to leave it. I want the upper hand, the one to call it quits, to pull the plug...I want control. I want to be the one to say, "Well, we had our fun. It's not you, it's me. Really. I need to grow, to expand in ways that you don't allow. I need to get out there and figure things out on my own". Bad jobs that are this consuming really are like bad relationships. I don't like thinking that I could be the next to go without notice. It's my pride but I have a lot of it.

So, what about you? Any pink slips flying around your office?

Don't Stare At the Shadow!!!

2010-10-28T05:56:00.000-07:00

“Keep your face to the sunshine and you can not see the shadow” – Helen Keller

In what ways are you able to stay positive about something that sometimes brings you down?

Thank you, Mama Kat for the inspirational prompt. It's Writer's Workshop but I'm afraid I'm short on time so my masterpiece must wait for yet another day.

Staying positive is not my forte. In fact, I have to work at. Sometimes I feel I have to work at it harder than most but I know that's just my self-centered nature (ego) talking.

If you want to know the down side to any given situation, and I mean ANY situation, just ask me. If you need assistance with the 'Cons' on your list, I'm your girl. Sure, sure, this makes me a pretty unpleasant person to be around but...people suck, anyway, and I like being alone. Maybe I exaggerate a tad.

I analyze everything to pieces so lots of stuff depresses me but the mainstay of my depression is my family (doesn't family depress us all?) This is where I air some dirty laundry so stay tuned... My step-father is an alcoholic who got fired from his job which leaves my mom to support the family. My mom is a depressed, nervous wreck who struggles with her weight and a few other health issues but she continues to eat fried, processed meat products like it's her job. (Can you tell her health depresses me, too?) My brother cannot hold down a job, either, lives in squalor, his wife is about to give birth to their 5th child in 5 years at the ripe age of 22, and don't even get me started on the nieces and nephews or I will burst into tears and won't make it to work. Okay. BUT...(and here comes the positive)...

This is where unconditional love, yes, cheezy at it sounds, but the power of unconditional love allows me to walk somewhere between the sun and the shadow. Maybe I should get with Michael Bolton and write a song about that...

Oh, Michael. How CAN we be lovers if we can't be friends?

I have to remind myself that just because they aren't living the way that I would, it doesn't mean their lives are without happiness or comfort. They have chosen their paths (albeit due to some serious psychopathology and addictions) and they can choose likewise, as well. (Not in that Republican sense; I mean, they make some really bonehead decisions). So, I simply love them, support them, let them know in small ways that I'm thinking of them, offer kind words, and maybe pay the occasional electric bill. And I don't judge them. I do worry a lot and I avoid a hell of a lot of phone calls but loving my family challenges me to search for the positives in a way that is out of character for me.

Wow. That was cathartic. Not exactly Pollyanna but it's the best I can do.

Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi Ce Soi?

2010-10-26T02:06:00.000-07:00

True story. Maybe TMI but, well, it's my blog.

I came home late last night after another heart-pounding, pulse-throbbing, hot night of adrenaline-pumping crisis. Okay, so maybe I take literary license in the description but humor me.

E. is in the kitchen fumbling around, eating something when she says what sounded a little like this, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah-wah-wah-wah ______ex?"

I couldn't really understand what she said so I mirror back, "Oh, you want to have sex?" wink. wink. nudge. nudge.

"No. I said I need some Gas-X".

My first thought is this:

And my second thought is: "Phew! Cause, baby, I'm tired and really just want a sandwich".

50 years of marriage is 18, 250 nights in the same bed. Wow. That's a lot of mornings of her waking up to my drool crusties and shit breath. So, how do you keep it fresh and freaky? There are a ton of "experts" out there (okay, in Cosmo) repeating the same old information: spice things up, change positions, play games, work on intimacy, bring in something new whether it's a toy or an outfit. But doesn't that sound like the same things we do for our bored pets or is that just my twisted perception of the last sentence? E. is not my bored pet...or is she? Hmmm... Anyway, I thought I was doing great in the romance department by being kind enough to not take a poop in her presence. And let's face it. Most days I feel about as sexy as this:

Wait. This guy is pretty awesome. I think I just found my Halloween costume. Eh? Eh?

So, how do you keep the homefires burning? There are those days when sex is a possibility and I think, "Eh. That would take a whole lot of effort and, well, I'd rather read". Don't lie. You've been there. The good news is that in a loving, committed relationship, that's okay sometimes. Isn't it? For me, anyway, it is. We would get nowhere in life or accomplish nothing if we solely feasted upon Eros...well, there's my dime's worth of philosphy for you.

There are times when I take E. and her patience for granted but I never claimed to not be a selfish bitch. And, unfortunately for her, most days I tend to look like this:

No. Wait. This:

Happy Tuesday! I'm taking a mental health day to read and probably not have sex.

Do you as women feel pressure to be sexy, whatever that implies to you? I feel the societal message to us (and men, too) is that there's something wrong if we're not "on" all the time or at the beck and call of our partners. Don't get me wrong; I'm by no means a feminist prude. Sex is good, sex is great! I have completely deviated from my original statement but so be it.

P.S. E. will officially murder me for this post. I've stolen her pimp cup.

I Need a Sick Day

2010-10-25T09:54:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wish you would come down with a cold just so you can stay home and lie in bed all day? Yeah, me either. Kidding. I do...wish...I could just stay home...in my pjs...and do nothing. Nothing except choose the next movie. Or finish one of my 5 books. However, I was blessed with the immune system of a Trojan. I rarely get sick. In fact, I have to fake sick at least once a year just to give myself some rest. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I am not cynical enough to not be thankful of this iron-clad immune system of mine (not yet, anyway). I just have to be more creative and come up with other ways to get out of work. I don't believe in falsifying deaths or accidents because that's just taboo. On occasion, I have been known to have a flooded basement or leaky roof or some other random "emergency". Why all the blather? Because today, you guessed it. I need a sick day. Maybe I can get E. to file a Mental Inquest Warrant on me. That's one I haven't used yet, mental illness. I guess that makes me a little bit of a hypocrite. I work with those who are mentally ill yet I'm a little afraid of my boss thinking I am. Everyone wants a sane therapist but I have to tell you: Most of us aren't. Well, therapists in private practice are probably a little more "with it" than those of us in psychiatric facilities but these are the dues that I must pay before being licensed autonomously. Some days it feels like a bad reality show, kind of like 'Survivor' meets 'American Gladiators' except I do get to eat and bathe but I don't have a big stick to knock my opponent off the balance beam. Rather, they get the sticks and I have to use crisis management skills to either talk them into dropping it or prying it away from them and putting them into a physical restraint. Actually, being marooned in a sunny, tropical place and being forced to eat sea worms is pretty appealing compared to my Mondays. But you already know how I feel about Mondays. *DEEP SIGH* I need a sick day.

Let's Go To the Gay Club, Boyee!

2010-10-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

I'm not a lesbian but my girlfriend is.

And Edgar Allan Poe thinks that' s hawt. See him sniffing E.'s hair?

A sick and twisted segue to a very serious subject. Why? Because that's how I handle sensitive matters:

So, why all the pro-gay stuff? Well, silly, it's National Coming Out Day. I'm hosting my own gay pride parade so bust out your ass-less chaps, start singing, "We Are Family" and join me! You bring the rainbow flag and I'll bring the good time!

If you have read my blog for any length of time you might have noticed a certain red-haired girl being featured often... and I'm not talking about myself. She is my partner, E., and we have been hiking our way to hell together for the past 7 years. Yes, I make jokes like that often to help me express my bitterness at the mainstream for how gay issues are handled. That bitterness extends from pop culture, media, to government, even to my own circle of friends at times. If our relationship disgusts you and you feel the need to preach to me or pray for me, keep on trucking. I've got an entire network of people praying for me and I'm pretty well-versed in Biblical matters and just don't care, anyway. I have had family members of friends (pretty much strangers) tell me, "Well, maybe Jesus will come into your heart one day". I've got my own family members thinking I'm "mentally damaged" because my dad killed himself when I was 7. (Okay, they might be correct in thinking there's something wrong with me... *smiles and insidious laughter*)

When I first told my mother, she not-so-eloquently equated my relationship with pornography. Sometimes upon finding out, I've had individuals (usually male) say, "Ooh, can I watch?" Would that EVER be said to a heterosexual couple? Probably not unless you're into that sort of thing. You're probably thinking, "Only a complete douche bag would say that". True, but it's surprising at who those douche bags turn out to be. E. and I get called 'fag' quite a bit when walking down the street in our neighborhood, usually by ruffians, but it happens, nonetheless. I've had men tell me, "You just haven't had me yet. I'll straighten you out". *Gag reflex and not very original * I've even had the well-intentioned female, "But you're too pretty to be a lesbian". That's the equivalent of telling an overweight someone, "But you have such a pretty face" or complimenting their personality.

Truth is, I'm not bitter the majority of the time. I am actually MOSTLY surprised at how gracious and supportive people are when I introduce E. as my partner. I'm of the mindset that you can say what the heck ever you want behind my back but please don't insult me or E. in my presence. Them's fightin' words, as my little sister would say.

There has been a lot of negative activity related to gay issues in the media recently: the Rutgers suicide, death threats at a Pride Festival in the Balkans, and the beatings in New York. It makes me sad and fearful because just when you think we might be reaching a point where we're making progress in tolerance (because acceptance is a whole other issue), there's another reminder of the prevalence of hatred.

Was this just a bunch of rambling or what? The point was to "out" myself in case you are not so quick-witted or in a serious case of denial. It's not to gain support and definitely not an attempt to gain sympathy. I just feel liberated in being able to talk about myself and my relationship and I hope, wish, and every other euphemistic verb that today will be a day in which others will feel liberated to the same.

Let's open the discussion: What social biases do you hold? Come on, we all have them. Internalized homophobia is definitely an issue for me at times.

Show Us Your Life: Trippy Kitchen

2010-10-09T08:23:00.000-07:00

I'm breaking down and posting because when I access my blog to do my daily lurking, I am sick of seeing that annoying picture of my face from my previous post. Remove it, you say? Oh, yeah. *shrug*

Kelli's Korner is hosting a link up where you show off various rooms of your home. I'll just tell you like it is: Our house is a dump. A comfortable, funtional dump I might add, but a dump nonetheless. I'll keep you waiting no longer. Enter at your own risk.

What the heck is this? A new piece of digital art that E. has been working on? A college acid trip coming back to haunt you?

Nope! It's our kitchen floor. See my feet right there, standing on it to prove it.

Actually, I like the floor. It's that good, hardy, thick linoleum that's textured so you can't ever get it clean. It's one of the few charming and promising elements in our house. But it's not exactly "Parade of Homes" material. This little kitchen is of the "anti-recessed lighting-granite counter top-stainless appliances" variety...because it has none of that. No doors on the food pantry and the cabinetry is hideous so I won't nauseate you with pictures. But it's home!

Well, I hope you enjoyed the psychedelic, funkdadelic floor.

Tuesday Truth: I Am A Hypocrite

2010-09-14T16:40:00.000-07:00

I'm posting a picture because I haven't in awhile. At least a picture that I'm not breaking copyright laws to use.

I asked E. to take a senior portrait of me.

As I sit here, I realize 2 things: 1.) I REALLY need to shave my legs and 2.) I am a hypocrite.

I'm always griping about technology and how it separates us from other humans; it enables those of us with (ahem) intimacy issues. I complain about social networking sites (you know the one...don't make me say it) and how we lack the ability to really connect with others outside of them, it seems. I go on at length about the need for us to forge meaningful relationships with those closest to us and blah. Blah. Blah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

So, I arrive home from a long day of work and E. tells me, "Oh, I told the neighbors we would meet them for pie later. They said they haven't seen you in awhile and they miss you. P. got a new job that he wants to tell you about." What do I do? I whine. Like a 9 year old.

"Whaaat? Whyyyyy? I want to watch Big Love and eat peanut butter and jelly and I'm soooooo tired. And I need to work out. Besides, they're so loud and I really don't feel like listening to them tonight."

E. just looks at me, shrugs, ignores me and eats pie with the neighbors. Me? Oh, I decide to sit at home by myself, read blogs and then write a post of my own, to hell with going all communal with the neighbors. See? That's my hypocrisy. What's yours?

Every Day Is Like Sunday...And Why That's Not Always a Good Thing

2010-09-12T14:24:00.000-07:00

What? You thought you would be getting a light-hearted, positive post from me or something? Not on your life. Today I'm a mess and you get to hear about it.

Sunday is my most-hated day of the week. I've been doing okay at work but my anxiety always, always, ALWAYS spikes on Sunday. I never know what I'm walking into on Monday. We're having issues in the clinical department, I run the dreaded substance abuse group tomorrow (I do it every week and yet it still sneaks up and scares me...every. single. time), AND I'm behind on my notes. To say that my production is at an all-time low would be an understatement. To say that I'm a liability because I can't get my shit done on time would be more accurate.

I thought I was feeling drained from being in front of a computer with fluorescent lighting blazing overhead soooooo...I got some lamps and amped my office up with some sexy mood lighting. I listen to Radiohead all day, I keep my door shut. All this does is make me sleepy and enables me to get up and do push ups and jumping jacks whenever I want. Yes...I do this...in an effort to keep myself on track. I make tea. I make coffee. Iiiiiiii...make excuses. Let's face it. This job blows. And my boss? Well, he's... I need to stop with this right now before I go too far and say something I mean but something that shouldn't be posted online. I am too insubordinate to work in an office. Can I get a 'hell, yeah'? On the bright side, I won't have to do this forever. One day, I will be autonomous (as I stare into the sunlight, my dreams beaming before me, playing out like a love scene in a movie...not to be confused with 'sex scene' but, hey, that would be alright, too)...

Now, onto CHAOS theory to lighten things up. I stole this idea from a fellow blogger, Paula. CHAOS stands for "Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome", and boy do I have it. I typically don't get in from work until 7pm so THE last thing I want to do is tidy my home. We live in a cheap house that's older than Methusula, and, although in decent condition, it still looks pretty shitty mostly. As I write this, I heard some candle wax thud to the floor. Anyway, in my spare time you will rarely find me cleaning or organizing. What DO I do, you ask? I read, I bake, I make porn...(kidding, just seeing if you were listening). And with 3 cats, I made the mistake of getting the super-cheap litter last time...big mistake. It smells like a feline outhouse in here. (Hmm...that's kind of what it is, isn't it?) Sure, we could do better but, well, it's not a priority, obviously. I HATE having people drop in without notice and only my closest friends and confidants are allowed over regularly. I NEVER have anyone over for dinner but mainly that's because I don't have a dishwasher and refuse to use paper products (aside from the obvious). Are any of you as weird about this as I am? I'm thinking it's a 'no' because I don't know anyone who lives as poorly and cheaply as E. and I.

Happy M0nday! Welcome back, Business Casual. Good bye, my soul. (Ha! I love drama).

Writer's Workshop: Nothing In Common With Anyone Either Way

2010-09-09T04:18:00.000-07:00

This prompt courtesy of Mama Kat: A list of things you no longer have in common with your married/child bearing friends…and why you love them anyways.

Oh, holy (unrecognized) matrimony...

E. and I are kind of between that single and married state. We get the best of both worlds. Some Friday nights we , as Mama Kat says, "Watch re-runs of Snapped while stuffing (our)my face with chocolate and wondering why men aren’t interested in me" but we usually do it as a couple. We wake up late on Sunday mornings with hangovers wondering, "What did I DO last night?"...only we recognize the person in bed next to us. Okay, I'm kidding about some of that. But we function basically as a childless, old-fart married couple. Here are the main differences between us and our married/ child-bearing and single friends.

No Common Ground With the Married Ones: The Main Differences

For one, legal marriage. Some of those nearest and dearest to me bagged their conquest, got the ring, and made honest women (and men) out of themselves. E. and I, on the other hand, are still sentenced to merely shacking up. Yeah, yeah, I know. That's what we've chosen to do. (What? I'm not bitter).

We still have interests in things other than child development and play dates. I know your child is smart and cute and funny...but so are my cats. I LOVE babies...but I love other things, too.

I don't know a damn thing about breastfeeding and from the looks and sound of it...I don't want to. I would rather take a bubble bath with Chelsea Handler's dad.

Now, the Singletons

A pregnancy scare for my single friends is an embarrassment and a crisis. If we ever had a pregnancy scare, we'd find a way to get onto Oprah.
My single friends think I'm co-dependent because I check with my significant other before making plans to go out with them.
We prefer board games to drinking games. I still don't know what the heck 'beer pong' is.
We prefer sitting in our back yard to sitting at a bar.
Being alone is not sad and depressing; it's a rarely-experienced luxury.

To be honest, I still relate to all my friends whether they're married or single. The married ones at times become self-righteous when the topic of children pops up while the single ones tell me I'm boring. Once we get past the fact that I'm an ignorant, childless bore, I either bask in the glow of their child's brilliance OR help them heal their wounds from not receiving a response to their text...whichever is more appropriate.

Tuesday Truth: I Am A Loner

2010-09-07T08:30:00.000-07:00

I haven't participated in Tuesday Truth with Kelli in awhile. Heck, I haven't participated in anything in awhile HENCE the title of this post. My confession: I am a loner...and I like it.

My neighbor and I have had this conversation many times, the difference between "shyness" and "antisocial tendencies". I've always described myself as shy. Talking to people has typically been painful and only in my adulthood have I been able to master the "fake it 'til you make it" tactic. You would NEVER know I'm shy...but maybe I'm not. The conclusion that said neighbor and I have reached is this: shyness indicates a desire to connect with others socially but feeling unable to do so. Being antisocial, on the other hand, implies no desire at all to connect with others socially and, in turn, coming across as rude, awkward, or diffident. I feel I'm a mix.

I cannot tell you the last time I felt lonely. I'm not especially close to my family (although I love them dearly) and E. and I have lived in Louisville for going on 6 years... we have a grand total of 5 friends. We go weeks and months without seeing these friends even though they live maybe 10 minutes from our house. I often feel smothered (which is why I ditched Facebook a year ago) and I hate feeling obligated to do things. My experience has been that the more friends you have, the more parties you're invited to, the more showers you become involved with, the more time you have to devote your beloved weekends to, and the more time you're ensconced in their lives and their dramatics. It's stressful...and I'm selfish. I like my 'me' time. My friendships are precious to me...perhaps because there's such space between us and our times together are truly enjoyable. Moving 4 hours away did wonders for my relationship with my family.

I've been alone all weekend...no neighbors, no friends, no E...it has been nice. Not to suggest I have no connection with these individuals but sometimes it's refreshing having nothing but your own whims to attend to. "I am a rock...I am an island..." E. will appreciate that statement. E. and I had a 48 minute phone conversation last night...nearly an hour. We become engrossed in the daily "funk" and lose touch. Space, precious distance, can be therapeutic to a soliatary soul. Ah...I wax poetic...

And just look at the effect I have on babies...

So, where do you fall on the spectrum or is this a non-issue for you?

" A rock feels no pain. And an island never cries..."

It's My Blog and I'll Blog What I Want To.

2010-09-06T19:55:00.000-07:00

On this glorious holiday that celebrates our workers I did just that: I worked. Why postpone the work week, anyway? E. has been gone, the neighbors have been gone, I have felt like "Last Woman Alive" on my little block. I've been coming home from work, making myself a martini (or 3), and reading in silence. It has been absolutely beautiful and perfect.

So, I was reading one of my favorite blogs in which the cynical writer basically blasted all of her gentle readers. I might be parapharsing here but she basically said this: We're boring. Our blogs are *gasp* boring. The evidence she had on hand was a tale of a blog entry discussing the writer's cats. Guilty as charged. I'll even point out that I wrote about soap a month ago. Sure, most of my topics are pointless but if you read my sidebar, I promise just that: pointless entertainment. If it's mental stimulation that you crave, I suggest this: work a crossword puzzle, read a book, engage in conversation with an actual human.

My days are consumed with seriousness; from discussing trauma to being trained in how to effectively treat juvenile sex offenders, adolescents with drug addiction, retraining a kiddo with encopresis to use the toilet once again as a teenager (yeah, yeah, that's what I signed up for, I know)...pardon me if I don't much feel like enlightening the 3 readers I have with information that can be found elsewhere on the web...and written much better, I might add. The stupid crap I write on my blog is for me and if you like reading it then, yes, of course that makes me happy. However, it's not why I write. Her advice to "stop writing about yourself", to me, defies the point of having a blog. Whether I have pictures of my cats or of me smiling on vacation or of the hair growing from the huge, fleshy mole on my left arm...I will post them and make you think my life is simple, vapid, insipid and...perfect. Like this:

Nothing on my mind except how to prevent basal cell carcinoma. Minor trivialities, friends. (Yes, that is a"momkini" I'm wearing).

Notice any similarities between me and the dolphins? Huh? Anyway, I dug that boogie board out of the trash. Yes, made E. pull over because I saw "a perfectly good little float in that trash can". I still kicked the 10 year olds' asses in the water. Mama's still got it. And since I'm getting lucky with the picture uploads, I'm going to keep at it. Enjoy my boring life.

The only tub in West Virginny...

Just because it's cute...

I am savage.

Wind, sun, pale faces, Blue Ridge Mountains...

The spitting image of doing something important with this fire.

Doing our best to threaten traditional marriage. Awww...we're really too cute to be living in such sin.

Normally, I don't like paying to work this hard but it was fun.

The only thing scarier than a character from Poe's work? Vacation hair.

Mmmm...nothing like macaroni and soy dogs made on a camp fire.

I love vino and fresh air and E. and a pre-paid vacation. I'll drink to that. Hell, I'd drink to burping the alphabet at this point.

There. I hope I didn't make you yawn too much or the topic too soporific for you, Gentle Reader.

Heebie Jeebies

2010-08-30T17:48:00.000-07:00

Two posts in 1 day. Who knew I had it in me? Anyway, I'm breaking the rules of my work on purpose right now so I can post. The crisis phone has finally slowed so I'm back in my office and able to concentrate on catching up on documentation...(evil laughter at my own joke).

My office is a creepy place at night. It's in the basement of an old building and at the end of a long hallway after a series of locked doors. The seclusion rooms (padded cells) are across from me and I can smell the nasty rubber flooring. Last Thursday night, I rushed out of here at 11:45pm because I heard a door slam in my hallway...and I know I'm the only one here. Just now, I heard a loud bang like something falling to the floor...and I know I'm the only one here. Mind you, I am hyper-vigilant and usually over-caffeinated but this place looks and smells like something you would see on Ghost Hunters. And it's too early to rush home. I'm a little spooked right now. I wonder if E. will come and sit with me? Now it's the quiet that's bothering me. I'm turning into some sweaty, trembly, bug-eyed character from a Poe story! I'll probably bring about my own demise through my own paranoia. Breathe. Okay. I'm choosing to be a big girl now. Help...I want my mommy.

8 Minute Post: Vacation

2010-08-30T10:24:00.000-07:00

If I don't post right this second, it might never happen. I have exactly 8 minutes to squeeze my brain for material and document Vacation 2010. You know what you get with an 8 minute post? Stream of consciousness rambling that if my employers laid their eyes upon, they would open a bed for me in their facility.

Some families have those beautiful, artistically-shot vacation photos. You know the ones: dad and sons in matching polos, mom and daughters in a simple, white cotton dress with beach grass blowing in the background. First off, we don't have kids. Second, we're not that kind of family. E. is a photographer but I was the one in control of the camera. And here's what happened:

GAWD!!!! Eff, it!!!! Blogger won't upload my pictures. I could save as a draft but this will probably be the only post for all of September. Wait, it's still August. *deeeeep sigh*

Well, I'm off to work. This is the 3rd crisis shift I've had in a week and the 2nd 3-12. I know some people work crisis/ emergency shifts all the time. But I went to school to learn how to trick people into telling me secrets. I went to school to become a 9-5er so I could finance my way into a suburb-and-sedan kind of life and have weekends off. I still can't afford anything and I just drained my savings getting those soul-less bastards (Student Loan People) off my back. AND I STILL HAVE TO WORK 2ND SHIFT. If you're even considering going to school for counseling, reconsider. Trust me, the touchy-feely Freud and Carl Rogers crap they force-feed you in grad school means absolutely nothing in the real world. Now, if you're a masochist and you don't mind a daily emotional beating, then go for it. There's a whole career field awaiting you.

Tootles. I'm taking my crabby ass to work.

Where In The World Is Suzie Que?

2010-08-11T05:30:00.000-07:00

I'm not dead, depressed, or giving up on the blog. We've been traveling across the Appalachian Mountains, staying in "rugged" cabins and reached civilization just yesterday. Phew. It's time to take my white hiney to the beach for some Vitamin D production...oh, and relaxation, too. I'll inundate you with pictures upon my return to the Commonwealth. Enjoy the heat wave.

I Heart My Cats

2010-07-30T04:33:00.000-07:00

I bought myself a new camera for my birthday. Needless to say, my kitties have been the targets of my self-instruction. This post is all about those little furry beasts I have scurrying around my home. It might include a chipmunk or even my neighbor. You'll just have to keep reading to find out.

My cat has great taste in books.

My cat is a dreamer (she's not the only one).

My cat can kick your ass.

My cat throws herself before martyrs for forgiveness and prays for the souls of others.

What are these guys looking at?

This? (We call it Chester Bea Arthur).

Or this?

That would be our neighbor (not the Evil Garden Gnome)...weedeating our yard even though we have asked him numerous (gawd, numerous) times to DON'T DO THAT!!! Why, you ask? Because on the outside it looks like neighborly friendliness, right? He's actually the most anal retentive person I know and he hates the way we maintain our yard. He tries to take control when he thinks we're not home or not looking. Welcome to the city.

Sweet Potato, Sweet Potato...Or However That Diddy Goes.

2010-07-27T05:38:00.000-07:00

Look at this beautiful vine I have growing in the ever-so-classy Gladware. What could it be?

Here's a closer look:

Yep. A sweet potato. It used to be big and fat. I had neglected it in the vegetable basket in the kitchen. Most of the time when my potatoes sprout, I toss them but I noticed these sprouts had leaves. I am a nerd, admittedly, because I was amazed at its ability to be its own food and water source so I chose to let it be. I haven't touched it except to toss it into a plastic bowl. I'm going to wait and see what it does. Basically, I'm waiting to see how long until or if it rots. How exciting!

What curiosities are growing in your kitchen?

15 Minutes of Fame & Ensure Your Personal Charm

2010-07-24T06:49:00.000-07:00

The title has nothing to do with leg warmers and dancing.

E. and I went to see an exhibit of Andy Warhol's called 'Myths'. I've already seen the Marilyn Monroe, soup can, and detergent stuff in Chicago so this exhibit, which is his later work (1981), was intriguing to me. Anything that's sprinkled with diamond dust sounds just fine to me.

His self portrait was my favorite. I was able to snap this just before the attendant told me it was illegal to do so. I know that. I don't know why they insist on reminding me every single time I go to a musuem.

I did take an additional moment of defiance just once more when I saw this...

My favorite person (E.) in front of my least favorite person (Wicked freaking Witch from WizofOz) and it looks like she's eating her face. *shudder* It's blurry because the attendant was headed my way with a quickness. It was a drive-by shot. If you forgot why I hate the WizofOz so much, your reminder can be found right here. I'm beginning to not like museum attendants so much, either. E. got irritated with me and reminded me (with a hard slap on the head), "She's only doing her job! I could tell she didn't want to talk to you, anyway, because you acted a little nuts." All I did was show the attendant my pictures and said, "Look, the pictures I took are crap. It's not like I can sell them or put them on coffee mugs or anything." I hate it when I look back and realize I was wrong.

There was a station set up adjacent to the exhibit where kids could write their reactions to the artist. One such reaction:

Future art critic or just a little nincompoop let loose in a musuem with pencil in hand? It's a toss up.

On a final note, I would like to take some time to give a titilating shout out to......

My favorite soap. Yes, folks. Soap. I am officially blogging about soap. Maybe I need to birth a kid so I can join the ranks of the mommy blog. At least mundane happenings seem interesting when you have a little one involved. At any rate, here is said soap:
It smells amazing AND the name...I think I graduated high school with a girl named 'Chandrika'. *shrug* But the best part is the little insert that comes with it, perfect for reading while you're on the toilet and sniffing the delicious bar of soap...not that I do that or anything.

So, how do you ensure your personal charm?

Tuesday Truth: Birthday Edition: Double 3's

2010-07-20T15:55:00.000-07:00

Mon amie, Kelli, has not failed me this week. Stank Breaf, that's all I'm saying.

For today's Truth, I'm treating myself to multiple disclosures in my favorite format: Bullets. Why? Because it's my birthday and when you've reached such a ripe old age you can do things like that...and it's better than swearing off regular-waisted pants and wearing elastic waistbands instead. Or knee highs. Or Playtex 18 Hour Bras. Or LovePats.

My Multiple Truths

I am celebrating my birthday tonight for the first time in 5 years. There's no interesting story behind that.
My mother forgets my birthday every year. She STILL hasn't called me and it's 7pm.
I got arthritis in my joints THE year I turned 30. What a bitch.
I get thick-ass whiskers like a man's on my chin.
I just started getting boobs in my late 20s. Honestly, I didn't HAVE to wear a bra until I was 27.
I have requested to have NO CAKE on my birthday.
I have a LOT more to say but it's time to partay....

So, what's shakin', bacon?

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

2010-07-20T05:59:00.000-07:00

Yes, indeedy, it was my birthday. I believe I have used that blog title multiple times in the past. I never said I was original OR creative.

Some fellow therapists and I hit the town to have dinner, wine, and celebrate the birth of moi. Here is incriminating evidence of the evening.

The chefs at the restaurant know me well so I got cake after all. Free cake. It was a flourless torte and I'm still craving it.

It says, "Stupid Effing American", I mean, "Happy Birthday" in Chinese.

Being pampered by M3.

It was so rich that I really needed soy milk. Pinot grigio worked in a pinch.

Cheers! I went through grad school with both of these ladies. Here we are circa 2010... (It was a very humid night).

And now let's reminisce. Just for poops and giggles.

Here we are in 2009... Sadly, the girl in blue chose to not pursue a career in mental health. Smart woman! I wonder if they're hiring where she works? Jokes, people...ahem...jokes.

And waaaay back in 2008. All I can say is, "Nice hair, Suzie Que".
It's tough to rid the Brillo pad of it's kink, you know?

Well, it was a fun evening had by all and I haven't crawled out of my cave since. How's your weekend shaping up? Are you keeping your Brillo pad kinky? Well, keep it kinky, y'all.

St. Agnes Parish Carnival

2010-07-18T05:38:00.001-07:00

Friday night, E. and I mosied down to the St. Agnes Parish Carnival around 10pm.

I see this...

and I HAVE to ride it (the actual one at the carnival was much smaller but you get the {stolen} picture). Even after 2 margaritas, 2 Miller Lites, and one order of queso and cheese, YES, I have to ride it. (I might have a drinking problem, too, but that's not the point of this post). E. cannot and will not ride anything of the kind. She's not wimpy, she just has an acute case of motion sickness. Honestly, she threw up after the ferris wheel, the little, tiny, itty bitty ferris wheel. But, alas, I was going to ride "The Hammer" whether it be alone or not (I never want to refer to 'riding The Hammer' ever, ever again...no offense to the Rev. MC, I'm just sayin'). The carnie, in his smokey toothless loveliness, says someone else needs a partner, too, and opens up a cage to reveal...

A 10 year old boy. He's named Jack. (The real Jack was completely adorable). You could literally see the kid silently praying, pleading, "No, don't make me ride with that old woman!" I could have been nice and let the kid off the hook but that's not me. So, I climbed in, tucked my skirt between my legs so it wouldn't fly up and REALLY traumatize the kid, buckled up and had a diaglogue exchange relatively similar to this (after introductions).

Me: "So, Jack, what did you have for dinner?"
Jack: "Hamburger".
Me: "Mmhm. And how long ago?"
Jack: "Three hours."
Me: "Great. And how often do you throw up on rides?"
Jack: "Never".

Famous last words. Luckily, true to his word, he did not throw up on this ride, either. At any rate, the carnie was a sadistic bastard who found it funny to keep us hanging upside down so long that our heads pulsed with blood and he threatened to do it again when I yelled from my cage, "You're a mean man doing this to kids, Mister!" Well, that did it. We had to hang even longer. The little girls in the cage next to us start crying and yelling, "Don't listen to her! We like you! You're nice! We didn't say anything, just let us down! PLEeeease!" Their pitiful pleas worked. The sadistic carnie let us off. Jack chose to ride again...by himself. And E. met a boyfriend while I was having blood pooled around my cerebral cortex. But that's another story for another day.

How was your weekend? I have to work from 6p to 11:30p tonight. Boo-hoo, 5.5 hours, right? Well, it's crisis consultant so stop your snorting at me. It makes me a little bit of a nervous wreck.

Jane Austen Festival 2010 UPDATED

2010-07-12T21:04:00.000-07:00

I have to post this picture because it WOULD be the one in the local effing paper. Can you find me? (Psst: I'm dead center). I'll give you a hint: I have a bonnet that felt like a freaking stale tortilla shell bent over my head. Let me tell you, it was hotter than a crotch out there over the weekend. However, I LOVED my dress and can't wait to show more pictures later.

Voila! C'est moi in all my sweaty glory. I'm not sure what that look on my face is but I'm thinking I might be trying not to laugh as beads of sweat trickle down my crack. This picture was taken by some greedy bastard who I don't know.

There are other pictures out there and, no, I didn't take any personally because I knew I would have access. But here's the rub: Most of the pictures that were taken are now copyrighted. I tried to do my usual picture stealing and was unable to. A form popped up that told me how I could order pictures...of myself...taken without my knowledge...by someone I don't know...who posted them on their website without my permission...and will now sell said pictures to anyone who requests. Okay, so I am a chronic picture thief but I make it clear that I am not a photographer and if asked I will gladly tell you where I got the image. I have even been known to credit a photographer or two. But these pictures are of ME...and they're not even good. I could link you to the website but that's an endorsement I'm not going to make.

I will endorse this one. This was taken of me last year with my permission by my friend Morgan...who can barely operate a camera. And I think it's great in comparison.

Fontaine Ferry: I'm Not A Photographer...But I Live With One.

2010-07-10T05:16:00.000-07:00

It's Gettin' Hot In Hur...

2010-07-04T05:30:00.000-07:00

The heat is getting to me. It is Oppressive (capital O). If you know anything about me it must be this: I like cloud cover and rain. And cold. Seasonal affective disorder ONLY effects me in the summer. Sweat, stink, bugs, hot flashes that don't stop (ever) and long, drawn out days of extended sunlight. Bah hum-bug. Wah-wah...now here's my garden, well, some of it. At least it's thriving in the heat...

Sunflowers (in case you've lived under a rock your entire life and didn't know what these are)...

Corn!!! We didn't expect this to grow, actually.

I just tossed out a handful of seeds and got...Zinnias.

Maters

Squash (where I'm from they say 'squarsh')

Broccoli...

Okay, so maybe not everything has done so great. My daisy is crispay, completely, totally burned up. Oh, well. It looks like my porch is done for, too. I could lie and tell you it looks better in person but it doesn't.

In regard to gardening, I don't weed much. We have some vines that like to take over and a little grass so I take care of that stuff (when I get around to it) but I feel weeding mainly is for aesthetics. Some herbs that are used medicinally were originally just plain ol' weeds. Remember that the next time you spend $15 on St. John's Wort (which is no better than placebo so don't waste your money). We certainly don't allow weeds to get to the point where they compete for light or soil but otherwise, I'm a lazy gardener. Most often, the weeds get watered, too. I don't believe in herbicides or pesticides. Sure, we have some leaves that are eaten by bugs but it's not that bad. Also, we use red and black pepper to keep our yard bunnies and chipmunks from devouring the spoils of our garden. We dug up the front yard as well as a portion of the back. We have catnip, tons of herbs, pumpkins, asparagus, strawberries, on and on. The strawberries have come and gone but we're looking forward to everything else. Here's what we had for dinner on Sunday:

Ew. Food always looks regurgitated with my camera. Anyway, it was basil and tomatoes from the garden sprinkled with olive oil, some salt and pepper, and fresh mozzarella. Delish.

What say you?

Tuesday Truth: In My Favorite Dress I Go Commando

2010-06-29T15:20:00.000-07:00

Kelli is inspiring me to keep the blog up to date with her Tuesday Truth. So, without further adieu...

My favorite dress, the one I wear so often that it is now deemed my 'uniform', well, I wear it because I can go 'panties-optional'. I'm not really a skank, I just have hot flashes. When E. mentioned the dress, she said, "Yeah, you know the one. The one you get compliments on all the time". And it's true. This is not a sexy dress. It is doo-doo brown, cut like a night gown, and has 2 little bleach spots on it. But it's like men can sense the no-panty thing. Yes, of course it's men complimenting me. Women are probably like, "How nasty is that? Put some panties on already". But no, men always tell E. some variation of, " And "Suzie Que" had that dress on..." I could apologize but frankly, I feel more like ditching the Fruit of the Looms and finding that dress. It's not about the men (obviously) or the compliments or the need to feel sexy. It's about relaxing after a long, hot day, freeing myself from the confines and the panties-in-crack melodrama, and going commando. So, go bold, go all out...go panty-less.

Hey, at least I'm not out there looking like this...

Or this... but he's got an awesome camel toe for a dude.

Well, I'm keeping it real. What's your truth?

World Naked Bike Riders

2010-06-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard of the World Naked Bike Riders? Me either but when I did, I thought, "Ewww. A sweaty butt on a banana seat" and "I hope those women have extra padded seats so they don't bruise their h00-ha".

And they have this cute little Victorian-inspired thinga-ma-jig. It's a political statement; these folks are exposing their naked bodies to traffic as a "way of defending our dignity". Their goal is to bring awareness to the harm pedestrians and cyclists (deaths, exhaust emissions) are up against in societies that do not provide safe lanes or sidewalks for their use and are overusing fossil fuels and pumping more cars into the streets. The National Safety Council quotes the odds of being killed while on a motorcycle as 1/1020 while your odds of dying as a result of a bicycle crash are a whopping 1/4919. In comparison, the odds of you (or me) dying from walking, from simply using your two legs and WALKING, are 1/616! That means that out of every 616 instances that you walk, 1 is likely to result in death. I don't know about you but that freaks me out. I know I have certainly walked more than 616 times in my life so it's about time. Really, I'm a ticking time bomb. I have dinner plans tonight and we had planned on walking. It almost, ALMOST makes me want to get on a bike...naked.

Anyway, I think the nakedness is an interesting concept (genius advertising) and the use of the word "dignity" is, too. I mean, look at this picture:

The guy in the red t-shirt is certainly a dignified fellow. Ah, geez. That was really snarky and I don't mean to be snarky. Let's try this again: I really think it's cool that there are people in the world who are so convicted by a cause that they ride around on bikes...naked...with other naked people. People who are naked strangers (which is little counterintuitive, I have to admit). It's an after-party I probably wouldn't want to attend, but a bold move that I can respect. They've got balls. I know because...I can see them. *snickers* Ooooh...and they crash weddings, too. Now we're talking.

So what odd new information have you accumulated this week?

Tuesday Truth: I Dream of Susan St. James: My Love Affair With Kate & Allie

2010-06-15T19:32:00.000-07:00

I thought about all of the possible weird confessions about myself but realized they might scare away my reader. Why would I make a weird confession? Only because it's Tuesday Truth inspired by Kelli.

The truth is...I love, LOVE, LOVE "Kate & Allie".

E. and I canceled cable several months ago. Why? To help foster new, better habits within ourselves. To compel ourselves to spend more time outside with nature. To create time for more intellectual endeavors such as reading, spending time with one another, spending time connecting with others.

Reality check: We got rid of cable and subscribed to Netflix instead. We have decreased television-watching but definitely have NOT eliminated it. At the very least we're more active and are saving boat loads, I mean huge, tumbling heaps of moola. Anyway, browsing among the downloadable titles I stumbled across all 6 seasons of "Kate & Allie" and I developed a habit, alright. I now watch 1 episode before my nighttime reading...every...single...night. On weekends I'm known to watch 2. What's not to love? Kate's overwhelming use of shoulder pads, Allie's ability to make the most awesomely contorted facial expressions, watching Jenny go through some serious bad hair phases, and watching Chip go from bowl cut to pre-90s mullet. The absolute best part? The theme song. Do yourself a favor and take a listen. DO IT!!!!

On a side note: When I enter "jane curtin" to search for pictures the first term to pop up immediately is "jane curtin bra". I am a huge fan of Jane Curtin. Hell, I'm probably one of the few remaining that still consider her famous. But I just can't see that many people wanting to search for her wearing a bra. Or holding a bra. Or even standing next to a bra. It's a strange world.

You can't stop thinking about it now can you? Well, here you go. The image of Jane Curtin that is searched the world over:

Thanks to Kelli for the inspiration. What is your bizarro confession to the world?

From the Dark Side of the Moon

2010-06-15T03:36:00.000-07:00

Time flies when...well, time just flies. Babies are born, birthdays celebrated, visits with family, cookouts with friends, a bottle of wine and good conversation on the porch after work, taking care of the neighbors' pets, taking care of our garden, reading, yoga.

I had a health "concern" arise. I won't say "scare" because I was never really scared but it made me stop and think, nonetheless. We spend an abundant amount of time engaging in things that mean nothing. Well, I do, anyway. And how much of it nurtures my soul, makes me feel like I am really living? Mostly none of it. Okay, that's not entirely true BUT if I was told I had six months to live, I probably wouldn't waste one more hour watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey reruns on Hulu while I drink my coffee on Saturday mornings. More to come... (because I have that pesky thing called a job. Talk about time suckage...a job will do it).

Tuesday Truth: Living In A Fantasy

2010-05-25T16:34:00.000-07:00

As I began writing this, I had to yell at some hooligans outside to "quit breaking shit". Dealing with teenagers all day will make you that old cranky fart you used to complain about when you were a teenager.

It is time for Tuesday Truth, inspired by Kelli. I have been stealing Kelli's subjects each week so why stop now? Fantasy World is the topic. This is extremely difficult for me. I am sorely, sadly rooted in the present. However, I will reveal my most-visited fantasy: Being interviewed by this lady...

The one and only, Terry Gross from 'Fresh Air' on NPR (or PRI), public radio.

On long car trips or while cleaning house, I pretend I am a prominent figure in the world of pop culture and entertainment and have a full on, delusion-infused "interview" with Terry, right out loud. I tell her about the inspiration for my latest work of fiction, a book about a mental health therapist intern's experience in a psychiatric facility that is being turned into a new series on HBO. Terry asks questions about how I became interested in psychology and mental health and I make her laugh uncomfortably with my shockingly honest responses and humor:

"Well, Terry, see, psychopathology runs in my family. Growing up, I always knew there was something unusual about my family but you get used to it as a child. You become familiar with the words "suicide attempt" and "hypomanic state". You just learn to not offer the mayonnaise to Aunt Janet at barbecues because you know she's afraid of it and will go into hysterics... "

Or something like that. It differs. Sometimes I'm a poet laureate for some random state who has just published a new chap book and I discuss my political views or ideas about religion. Either way, it's a little kooky but it helps to pass the time when stuck in the car or bored with vacuuming.

So, what's your fantasy world? Not THAT fantasy world, the other one, cheeky monkey. Share!

Tuesday Truth: My Neighbor Makes Our Property Value Go Down

2010-05-11T07:30:00.000-07:00

Once again, my friend Kelli has an entertaining story for her Tuesday Truth. Hop on over there and let your voyeuristic tendencies run amok.

Not so much... My truth is a little uglier.

And without further adieu, I would like to welcome you to my freaking neighborhood where...

I cannot stand my neighbor. He is an evil little garden gnome of a man, a pox upon my house, a curse to be endured. I stop just short of using the 'h' word because that is reserved for seafood only (I HATE seafood, basically anything that swims. I think the Evil Gnome swims so it might count). The presence of this guy makes my stomach churn: nasty spit-throwing Cockney way of speaking, silly gnarled-tooth grin emitting the most foul breath; idiotic hats and pants pulled up so high you can plainly see the outline of his butt cheeks not to mention he stinks and I can hear him belch from my living room. He makes my skin crawl. When I'm exiting my back door and I see him, I literally slam the door and go out the other way. Maybe I should feel guilty for harboring such ill will toward another but my loathing takes precedence and overrides any cognitive reframing I have attempted...which isn't much because I kind of like him better now that we're bitter enemies. But here's the rub: he is a complete jack ass to me time after time and still STILL attempts to be friendly! Ugh!!! Why can't HE just admit that he loathes me, too? Why can't he follow my lead and simply ignore me? Here's another rub: I confront face to face. I have an issue, I knock on his door. He, on the other hand, waits until 2am or some other absurd hour and leaves a voice mail berating me. I wake up, knock on his door because I know his stupid ass is home and what does he do? NOTHING. He's not even man enough to answer the door and spar in person. I don't let it consume me; I simply avoid him at all cost. At those unfortunate times when I come face-to-face with the Evil Gnome, I look away and ignore him. Sure, I could be an adult and simply be polite yet keep my distance but that's not me. At this point you're probably thinking, "Um, why is she such a hater toward this guy? Geez." Here's the short list: He has accosted me, yes, placed his worm-like mouth upon my neck like a leech and refused to get off of me until I beat his head with my fist, has tried to convince me time after time to join his cult, AND...he's a bad dad (unfortunately the Evil Gnome has spawn). Pair these facts with my tendency toward holding grudges and overarching bitchiness and, well, you've got the recipe for "Hating Thy Neighbor". I have tried unsuccessfully to get him kicked out of his house (especially after the accosting incident). Yes, I'm THAT neighbor. Glad to meet you. *wink*

Doing my best to stomp on these whenever possible. Neighbor, I bite my thumb at you.

That's my truth and I'm sticking to it. What's yours?

What Are YOU Doing for Derby?

2010-04-30T06:20:00.000-07:00

Oh, how many times this week have I been asked that very question? Even my yoga instructor snuck the comment in last night before corpse pose. My response is usually something like, "I don't even celebrate Easter much less some horse race." In other words, I am a Derby Atheist and I live in the Vatican City of Derby. I am viewed as an anomaly, something to be pitied because I cannot be converted, cannot accept the Derby into my heart as my own.
I am a Tennessee native, transplanted to Derby, I mean, Louisville, Kentucky. In case you are like me or you live under a rock, let me just go ahead and remind you that the Kentucky Derby is this Saturday. I will drink some mint juleps but aside from that, the love for this event confounds me. First, it all begins 2 weeks earlier with a redneck rally that rivals Talledega, aka, "Thunder Over Louisville". It's touted as the largest fireworks display in the world but trust me on this: you don't want to go there. Unless you like being forced into a small area along the heavily polluted Ohio River (and nowhere else to run) with 700,000 of your closest friends, most of them shirtless and sweaty, then you will want to avoid this event. Did I mention the all-day air show that precedes the fireworks? An air show that lasts ALL EFFING DAY, 9a-8p. Really?! Who in their right mind would sign up for that. The occasional Blue Angel doing loopty-loops is okay but 11 hours of straight buzzing, zooming, craning your neck, fighting the crowd to make it to a poop-encrusted Kitmo... Then there's the 'Run for the Roses' itself. No pun intended, but it's a bunch of horse shit. The throughbred industry has been breeding the horses for speed not endurance. What you have left is a bunch of fragile horses. Since I have lived here, I have witnessed horrible injuries and the immediate euthanizing of horses directly after the race. Two years ago, the filly I bet on, Eight Belles, ran her little heart out and came in 2nd only to be euthanized directly on the track after breaking both of her front ankles. I was horrified. Three years ago we saw the ordeal that Barbero went through, albeit at the Preakness, but it still left me with a dislike of horse racing. I know, I know...I'm an animal-loving wimp who doesn't understand the history, the whatever that Derby has that keeps this town enamoured. I've had it explained but I guess it's like catholicism: You have to be raised with it to really get it. (No offense to any Catholics. I was raised Protestant and am just plain ignorant). And if running horses until they literally break doesn't sway my argument, then enjoy the images I will leave with you that exemplify this occasion, so steeped in history and tradition.

Derby: From an Outsider's Perspective

The Ubiquitous Derby Hat

Aretha Franklin with a portabella cap on her head.

Even the men fall victim...

The Infield: Keeping It Classy Among the Huddled Masses

The Julep...No, wait. These are good.
Need I say more?

Baby Shower and Birthday Gathering and More Pictures of Me Than You Could Ever Want To See.

2010-04-18T08:06:00.000-07:00

I realized I have been cheating at blogging lately and using only others' prompts. I'll quit being lazy as of this post; well, probably just for this post.

Hmmm...what to do with coffee filters and receiving blankets?

Tada! Make cupcakes! These were cheap, easy, and made such a great presentation. I got little Zoey just a "few" other things, too.

No baby shower is complete without a humiliating contest.

Poor babies. Drinking from the bottles was difficult and it tasted awful! Just plain nasty. Doctors are right, evidently. Breast IS best. The girl in purple won, by the way. By a LONG shot. I think she found her calling in life, actually.

Me, Amber...and Zoey.

Also, I thought I would prove that I have more than one friend. My friend, Jeff, had a birthday drink at a local Irish pub.

My friend, Morgan, and her main squeeze, Mike. Isn't she gorgeous?!

Me and my main squeeze, E.

The birthday boy Jeff, Mike, and Landon. Jeff looks schnockered in this picture but he's not. I promise.

I took this picture because I loved the contrast between the two.
E. and I are so pale you can literally see our circulatory system. I'm not complaining, I mean, I'm a redhead, enough said. I'm just amazed at the skin's ability to tan because I've never had one, not a serious one, anyway. Imagine a turkey roasting in the oven. That's what we do in the sun. If you don't believe me then click here. Come on; you can trust me! *snicker*

Happy roasting; it's that time of year!

Friday Fill-Ins

2010-04-16T07:44:00.000-07:00

I found Friday Fill-Ins through another blogger's page. When I was on Myspace, I always liked the bulletin posts that allowed me to fill in my own thoughts so I thought I would give it a go! And it saves me from having to create an idea on my own...because it's Friday and the gray matter in my brain is being overpowered. You should play, too!

1. I'd like to sleep outside right now.

2. One of my most favorite romantic memories is leaving all of my earthly possessions and comforts to run away with E. Yeah, yeah, we were young.

3. Last night, I had asian short ribs with asparagus and carrot for dinner.

4. Sorry for the excessive cursing and raw peanut gas .

5. Can we win the lottery now?

6. One of my worst temptations is cheap white bread ; Good conversation is hard to resist!

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to doing absolutely nothing , tomorrow my plans include cleaning this trashy house and Sunday, I want to sleep in and drink coffee until noon !

Writer's Workshop: Hang On Snookie, Snookie Hang On!

2010-04-15T05:46:00.001-07:00

Dear Snookie,

I am holding your "poof" for ransom. If you want to see your poof in one piece again, you must follow these instructions:

Do not speak on television again. Wait, try to not talk ever again.

Please, PLEASE keep your clothes on and don't let nude pictures of yourself surface in the media. Ever. Again.

Use protection! If I hear of any "Little Snookies" being reported then, SNIP!!! That poof is mine, biatch!

You must surrender your nickname to me. I always wanted a nickname and 'Snookie' seems like a pretty good one.

If you agree to these terms, then meet me at the Tan-O-Rama in Marlboro, New York and I'll return your poof...safe and sound. If you're not there by 7pm EST, then the poof is a goner. I'm giving it to Barbara Walters. Kate Gosselin didn't follow my instructions and this is what happened:

So see, Snooks, I don't mess around. I don't play.

Sincerely, Suzie Que

What has Mama Kat inspired you with this week? Happy Writing!

Writer's Workshop: Fear & Loathing In The Wizard of Oz

2010-04-08T04:54:00.000-07:00

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop! I could write about the book that first captured my heart but there were so many: The Scarlet Letter, The Bell Jar, Lolita, The Berenstain Bears' Picnic, etc. So, I'll take my next favorite topic: FEAR!!!!!

Now, you might find this ridiculous, as Mama Kat hinted at, BUT don't tell me that. Don't even mention it.

This makes me wet the bed if it surfaces in dreams:

And...

No, no...not the Lollipop Guild!!!

It even extends to...

who is a little freaky in her right, much less the daughter of the very scary Judy Garland. Ick.

Dorothy, those weird "friends" of hers, getting doped up in poppy fields, being lost from home, away from those she loves and being hunted by the ugliest witch I have ever seen and her even more bizarre flying monkeys. It's worse than Hansel and Gretel! It ropes youngsters in with pretty colors and fun songs, toys with their emotions for what seems like 6 hours THEN...THEN...reveals that Dorothy could have gone home all along?! Not to mention it all begins with Dorothy murdering that one witch and stealing her shoes. Sure, she was the evil ruler of the munchkins but maybe those munchkins were a real handful and who would wear a dead woman's shoes? Needless to say, I am still traumatized. I know the majority will disagree with me. All I'm asking is just think about it...

What prompt inspired you to write? I can't get the button to post so click here if you want to participate, too.

TuesdayTruth: I Brake for Awesome Teeth

2010-04-06T09:58:00.000-07:00

It's that time again: Tuesday Truth, hosted by my friend, Kelli. Today's truth:

I am obsessed with teeth and oral health. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that in 2006, I had $6,000 worth of dental work done. Why? Because I was raised on a farm with sulphur water and a love for sweet tea, my family was poor and we had no dental care, AND I've always, always hated milk. So, the result was a mouth fit for Hee-Haw. One day, however, I bit into some Kashi granola and one of my freaking teeth broke off to the gumline. I was horrified but forced into mustering the courage to go to the dentist. I had not been in 18 years. Miraculously, even though I smoked for 10 years, my gums and bones were healthy; I just had a head full of cavities including one that was right between my front teeth. Honestly, a tiny hole developed that was big enough I could whistle through it. Yee-haw, keeping it classy. Anyway, after over 36 hours of drilling, a fake tooth implant, and one root canal, I now have healthy teeth. I have not had a cavity in 4 years and I intend on not having another one. Ever. Rules to live by: Stay away from sugary drinks and FLOSS. Oh, how did I pay for it? I slept with the dentist. Kidding. I got a loan from a bank. Seriously, I financed dental work but paid it off in a year. And, yes, I quit smoking. In 2005.

That's my story. What's yours?

Easter Eggs and Ninja Stars

2010-04-02T07:01:00.000-07:00

To Easter...

Or NOT to Easter...

THAT is the question. Yes, yes, I am experiencing a dilemma. It's Easter weekend and I have a 3 day weekend. That's 3 days to clean, watch DVDs, do yard work, plant the garden, drink wine, have alone time... YET... it is also supposed to be a time of gathering with family. My family is 5 hours away. See the issue? I am craving time spent in my own home but I'm also craving hugs from those little emotional extortionists known as my niece and nephews. *deep sighs* I know I'm going to be selfish and stay home. I know I'm going to feel guilt...that will subside with some sauvignon blanc. Yeah...I'm staying in Kentucky, folks!

The other day, I found my neighbor's 10 year old in my back yard playing with this:

I'm not even the kid's parent and immediately my thoughts turned to this:

I mean, I have cats...that I love...and cute little yard critters. Oh, but it gets better. The kid tells me, "Yeah, my dad made them for me. Aren't they cool?" No, kid. They're not. And your father is a moron. My actual response was, "Hey! Don't be throwing those at cars, you know." This made E. laugh because of sheer grandma-ness of it. Anyway, this is the same guy who I had to remind that it is against the law to leave your kid home alone...at the age of 8. And that it is a law that your kid wear a helmet when riding a bike ON A BUSY HIGHWAY. I actually just erased my further comments on the subject because I went on a tirade, outlining his mistakes and, well, really, who am I to criticize? BUT I stand by my assertion, however, that the man is a freaking, bloody moron. If I see that kids' martial arts weapons today, I'm yanking them from him, and giving his FATHER a good, old-fashioned spanking...on his head.

Well, I'm off to see the Wizard. Tootles.

Tuesday Truth

2010-03-30T03:37:00.000-07:00

My friend, Kelli, has a blog and she's introduced Tuesday Truth to me. And as I sit here contemplating when (or if) to finally get my bootie off this chair to do some morning yoga, I am thinking of my Truth. Here it is (drum roll, please):

I only wash my hair twice a week. Today is not 'the day' because I'm getting it cut this evening. Admittedly, I'm a little bohemian but the truth is that my hair has the consistency and texture of a Brillo pad if I wash it more than 2x in one week. I have naturally curly hair and each strand is thick enough to floss your teeth with. So, there. Just don't sit close to me on a hot summer day is all I'm saying.

Okay, okay. The birds' chirps are telling me, "Get up offa that thang..." or it's just my conscience because I know I ate that Cadbury Fruit N' Nut bar last night...for dinner.
And I'll post pictures again one day after I locate my camera. Seriously, my life has gone to hell since I started working again.

Amnestic Fugue

2010-03-14T08:18:00.000-07:00

Phew! Time flies even when you're not having fun. I can't believe it's been over a month since I've posted! Luckily, nothing much has changed. The job is hectic, of course, but the main reason behind my disappearing act is due to the internet itself. See, originally we split our wi-fi with our neighbors. They are some of our best friends, their office window looks into our office window, we all love a good bargain, so splitting the monthly bill seemed like a no-brainer. Except for the fact that our neighbor never gets anything done in a prompt manner. Nothing. Ever. He sits and ponders and mulls and never takes action. So the router sits in his house and when it went bonkers, well, nothing has been done. Needless to say, this is the end of our wi-fi affair. I'm breaking up with Paul and Jackie and ending our strained internet partnership. I'm going to be a big girl and get my own wi-fi. Wi-fi that can be fixed when it's not working. Wi-fi that is reliable, that will connect when I beckon it to. I deserve a healthy wi-fi relationship.

Currently, I'm in Tennessee helping my mom but making the trip back to Louisville today. She had surgery and can't do anything, absolutely nothing for 4-6 weeks. I've been cooking and freezing food, cleaning, getting her laundry caught up (even though it remains in heaps in my own home). I'm supposed to be heading back and as I look around, this house is an effing dump again! See, this is how things are done in their home: My mom has surgery and amidst all of this, new hardwood floors are being laid, a new washing machine was put in, my step-dad, who is the messiest beast of all, comes into town when he wasn't expected, my sister leaves for Gulf Shores, my brother...I don't even know where he's been. I know things will be fine when I leave but the control freak in me is experiencing a crisis.

Time to finish some dishes, pack up, and make the trip back to the Ville. Work tomorrow. Ugh. I hope all has been well for each of you and maybe I'll return soon.

If You Like Pina Coladas...And Sex Toys...And Guinness...And Wine...And Laughs...

2010-02-08T17:26:00.000-08:00

Kelli really hit me in the gut with the suckfest comment. I DO bitch a lot. Today, I will do LESS of it because my life is NOT a suckfest. I mean, sometimes I even have...fun. For instance:

E. and I play games with our friends. Okay, our 'friend' but no one will play with her right now because she's pregnant and can't drink (what crappy friends). We've joined forces because no one will play with us because we're lesbians. Preggo plus lesbians = A party!!!

Em is deep in thought. Or deciding that "Boxers or Briefs" is really too silly to play. We chose Scattergories instead.

This is pregnant Amber demonstrating what the hell a 'nose harp' is. Her little girl, Zoey, will be born in late April. I can't wait!!!!

Here's my "Posed With Drink Picture" #56.

Further proving my desire for fun, my zest for life, I attended a Passion Party on Saturday. For those who don't know, it's a Tupperware party where sex toys are sold. Here's what I felt like:

Don't get me wrong; I'm not a prude. I just think hot pink vibrators that light up and spin like a merry-go-round are a bit...excessive. And upon further inspection of some of the buzzing things that were passed around, I thought, "You put that where?!!"

But the fun didn't stop there. Later that night, E. decided that a daiquiri sounded good. We found a little dive bar we had never been to and crashed the place. It was full of old men in tight button-up shirts and big ol' cowboy hats. The ladies had heads full of puffy gray hair that reminded me of really old cotton candy...really old cotton candy. Kind of like sticky cobwebs. We got to the bar and the waitress asked me if I was going to sing. Are you kidding? Does a dog's lips move when it reads?! Much to my delight and surprise, we had stumbled upon a karaoke bar full of old people. What luck. Of course, I was going to sing.

E. enjoying her daiquiri...in the dead of winter.

Hmm...what song would best compete with the elderly brothers who just sang "Wake Up Little Susie"? And rocked THE hell out of it!

Oak Ridge Boys it is! 'Elvira' is more difficult than you would think. Well, if you're a non-singer like myself.

But our bartender sure liked the way I sang it...

And because you can never have too many pictures of yourself in a single post on your own damn blog...

So, after a night of wine, sex toys, and karaoke, here's what E. awoke to on Sunday. It's a good thing E.'s got a good pair of beer goggles. Have a great week everyone! I'll be stalking your blogs.

The World is My Peach Bikini

2010-02-05T04:02:00.000-08:00

Default opening: Yeah, yeah...it's been awhile (thank you for ruining that for me, Staind).

Here's the skinny on the past 10 days. I'm an underpaid, overeducated therapist and E. is an underemployed, overeducated artist. Neither of our career paths ever promised us money and, for the most part, it's all thankless work. Oh, but when choosing majors in college, we saw clouds. Opportunity, inspiration; we could work to make humanity better, to heal people, to fill our souls instead of our wallets. This is why you should wait until you're 30 to go to college. When you're 18, the world really feels to be your stinking oyster. But what do oysters give you aside from pearls? That's right. Paralytic shellfish poisoning and Norovirus. Learn from me, grasshopper, and you will be wise. Ahhh...the seduction of mollusks.

Hey, does anyone else remember Menudo?

Well, since I fully tapped my brain of gray matter this morning, I'll leave you with a picture. Don't let this happen to you. Rule of thumb: peach bikinis look good on no one. Not even drag queens.

I'm Giving Up All Hope

2010-01-24T11:05:00.000-08:00

I think I should warn you. The title has nothing to do with Haiti. I won't write anything on that topic because, well, you can go read someone else's thoughts on the subject somewhere else. Basically, anywhere else. Or just turn on the TV. No, no, I'm not so cynical that I tire of a monumental tragedy so easily (yes I am). I'm just being thoughtful and sparing you words that have already been stated, probably better, elsewhere. Here's food for superficial thought: My title merely implies that I'm giving up all hope...of ever maintaining my blog appropriately. Of ever feeling fully rested. Of ever being able to accomplish in a day what I set out to do. Of ever meeting Anthony Bourdain (HAD to throw that one in). Of ever jumping out of bed in the morning screaming, "Yes!!! I get to WORK today!" (although I AM thankful to have work). Of ever being able to live without medication. These statements in no way mean that I am unhappy; quite the contrary, in fact. So why did I say it? Uh...because I felt like it. And because I can.

We've been eating vegan/ vegetarian for the past 2 weeks to make up for the debauchery of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Sweet potato casserole and cranberry sauce can hardly keep a girl regular, if you catch my drift, so we have chosen to do a "cleanse"...our own version that does not entail consuming liquid foods. We've also been eating foods that are in season such as this:

Meet Mr. Turnip. Very mysterious and resembles a Snork. Oh, and completely delicious! We roasted it with some potatoes, olive oil, and rosemary. Yum.
See the resemblance? Snork? Turnip? Snork? Turnip?

My next adventure was carob and oatmeal cookies. Here is the final product. What? You don't see the cookies in the picture? But they're right there. Ok, ok. So I obviously screwed them up. It took me 3 tries and a sailor's vocabulary but I finally succeeded. I didn't take a picture because by that time, I frankly didn't give a hoot.

I must stop procrastinating and prepare thyself for court tomorrow. Ugh. Court in a rural Kentucky town. If you ever want to lose hope and faith in the ability for justice to prevail, go to family court in a BumFruck, Kentucky. It makes Mayberry appear quite sophisticated. Here's the presiding judge: So, I lie. But I DO hate court in small towns. Have a good week!

A Rare Date Night

2010-01-16T07:48:00.000-08:00

Another week has gone by and I've neglected my blog...yet again!

Date Night: E. and I hopped a TARC bus and headed to...you guessed it! Asia Chow Buffet! See the 'Crazy Face'? I'm insane with a hunger for MSG broccoli. Mmmm...

Aside from showing off my mad chop stick-skills, one of my favorite parts of eating at an Asian buffet is this:

The desserts are always an adventure. The pink thing tasted like a strawberry-flavored Barbie doll. Those shiny fried things? Someone got crazy with rice paper and the deep fryer. They tasted like the paper towel you drain fried chicken on. It was disgusting.

But this is the sole purpose for going to Asia Chow:

A quarter machine full of stick-on mustaches for kids! There's even a hairy mole in one of them. It's not a very good picture but the girls all look like little drag kings and the boys look like mini-Ron Jeremys...because of the facial hair... I never noticed how funny the name 'Ron Jeremy' is until now. Couldn't he have come up with something more dynamic? Something more exciting like "Rocket Rick" or "Dave Dynamo" or "Torpedo Tom"? I digress.

Later on our date, we went to a poetry reading and had coffee.

E. is covering her face because...well, I don't know, really. That's just what she does.

We also sang karaoke. Well, I sang karaoke. Actually, it was more like I sang backup vocals while the actual backup vocals carried the tune. I don't know what was up with the sound but I really belted out my screeches and I could hardly hear myself.

On the bus ride home, it was crammed and smelly. There was a group of about 5 females in their early 20s. One of them had her hair up in greasy pigtails and had a deep, raspy voice that sounded like she had been smoking since kindergarten. And when she talked, she ended her statements with a vicious laugh that broke into a chunky, chesty cough. An old man had gotten stuck in a seat in the middle of this group of young women. Greasy Pigtails was yelling over his head to her friend, "...yeah, but you know he got a crusty dick! Aw, shookie, shookie, shookie..." followed by her phlegmatic roar and gunky cough. She said this at least 3 times and it got funnier every. single. time.

Brrrr...Every Now & Zen...

2010-01-06T17:17:00.001-08:00

It snows.

Tonight, we are experiencing arctic temperatures. Okay, maybe NOT 'arctic', per se, but effing cold, nonetheless! Think along the lines of:

and

and

and

Okay, I think it's understood. If I stand up right now, I think my toes might shatter.

Since I don't do much except work (and drink) and work, I shall discuss....ding ding ding! WORK! I have an inspiration board in my office that I like to use for conversation prompts when in a pinch and the client hates Uno. Okay, confession: No matter where I have worked, the clients have always loved, begged, did back handsprings for that annoyance called Uno. I have come close to curing dissociative identity disorder and solving oedipal complexes while playing, yep, Uno. (disclaimer: this is a lie, an exaggeration). And yet...I HATE this game! I've worked with kiddos over the years with reactive anger issues who can keep it together during a game better than I can...they end up de-escalating me. Oh, wait, back to the inspiration board. I came across this quote:

"Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."
~ Carl Jung.

How true is this? When I get PO'd, which can be often depending on the day, it can be tempting to think, "Sheesh, what a tool" or "She's such a stinking know-it-all; I wish someone would deflate the wind from her sails". But what does this say about me? Am I threatened by or jealous of them? Do they make me feel inferior and why do I feel that way? Now, going deeper within myself probably won't keep me from thinking these things. It's just a nice place to visit now and then. This is enough psychobabble for the night. Ahhhh...introspection. Doesn't it just make you feel fucking zen? (I had to add that little angry part to remain true to myself). Bon nuit, mes amis.

New Year's Smchew Year's: The Princess and the Pea

2010-01-01T18:25:00.000-08:00

Last night, I partied so hard and woke up with my clothes hanging from the chandelier and Gary Coleman in bed next to me. Well, not really. Actually, I took a long, hot bath, started the 4th Twilight book, and was asleep by 11:00pm. Not even a sip of champagne but that's okay because ringing in the new year in such a relaxing way will hopefully set the tone for 2010. Fingers crossing...now.

Speaking of superstitions, our family has the tradition (superstition) of eating black eye peas on New Year's Day to ensure good luck for the year to come. E.'s mom is so sold on this that she gives us a big ol' can every christmas with a little note that reads, "EAT THIS NEW YEAR'S DAY!!!". The problem...I HATE black eye peas; merely thinking about them makes me dry heave. But if I don't eat them, E.'s mom fears the worst for my fate and you all know how important it is to remain in the MIL's good graces, right? So, I compromise. And eat...one...(gag)pea.

Here I am with the dastardly little disgusting, putrid pea.

Ew...look how it rolls around on the plate and leaves a trail like a slug. This picture makes me laugh because it looks like 1970s album cover art. Speaking of which...

Hey, hey! Heck yeah, Steve Miller Band!

I got E. a device that records vinyls into MP3 format since our record player died awhile ago. And in return, she has been buying some excellent music at Goodwill. I've been air guitaring for days! Nothing says redneck quite like posing with a SMB album in front of a window that is duct-taped. We got into a fight over the remote one night; E. wanted to watch wrastlin' and I wanted to watch NASCAR so I threw my Budweiser can at her. Actually, there was a wind storm a few weeks ago and since our house is old as Methusula, the window blew against the wall and cracked. Why haven't we fixed it yet? Well, there's where the redneck in us resides. We'll get to it when we get to it.

One final note. New Year's Resolution #15

Getting physical, along with the rest of the free world. I don't really have a goal, per se, but I do want to shrink the rim of flab that is slowly creeping up along my waist.

Happy New Year to all. Cheers!

Parts of Christmas That Were Not Bad

2010-01-01T18:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay, so Christmas wasn't a complete waste. And here are 4 little reasons why:

Big Brother B and Little Sister C. No childhood is complete without a fresh-out-of-the-bath-wearing-nothing-but-my-boxers picture.

Sleepy little K. on Christmas morning. This little guy is having trouble with his eyes right now so send some positive thoughts his way!

Here's my moody little nephew, H., wearing his future aunt's boots. He is the epitome of a country boy and I love it when he says, "Hey, Dinda. I'm tard." For the non-southerners, that translates as 'tired' and not the other derogatory term.

Last but not least, here is C. all poofed up in the girly gear Aunt Dinda got for her. And a loaded diaper, too, apparently.

I do love my immediate family. The extended family (namely my mom's siblings) can go to hell but I actually had tons of fun with my brothers and sister. Merry Freakin' Christmas and I'm not talking about it again for another 12 months.

P.S. Here is a picture of the nativity scene we built from my therapy toys. Yeah. We get bored...

Continue the Burn Out

2009-12-29T17:37:00.000-08:00

I have difficulty being positive. If I were going to try and be positive in a post, well, this one is not it. Why? Because my Christmas with the extended fam sucked big-time and I will not be doing that again any time soon. Then I went to catch up with some friends. We went and shot some pool in this dive bar that charges you a table fee by the hour. Our pool tab ended up being $13.00!!! That's outrageous AND I lost my peacoat. Then some guy bought me a shot and asked what I did for a living. When I told him, he said, "Yeah, you do have those eyes that judge people." What?! I let that one go because I did get a shot of Jack out of the deal but I'll be honest: it bothers me to think that I have eyes that condemn in judgement.

Later on, we met up with a friend who is nearly 30 and is dating a 20 year old. I know it happens a lot but this guy's taste in women keeps getting younger and younger. What's wrong with people? It reminds me of this: E. and I also had a friend who worked at this franchise steak place, made friends with increasingly young people, and ended up going to prom at the age of...27. Are you kidding me?!! That's asking for some kind of allegation and makes me think the girl has arrested development. This friend doesn't look old or anything, she just looks weird. Being weird AND almost 30 AND at prom? Yeah. You see what I mean? The fatigue has me rambling. I'm glad I'm home with E. and the kitties. I'm glad I have a job and my health. I'm glad I'm on the verge of sanity and that I'm loved. There. I ended positively. Now pat my back.

Memories...Light the Corner of My Mind.

2009-12-19T07:32:00.000-08:00

Pictures from the ornament exchange party a la last weekend. See how I just jump right in with a crowd (I'm in red)? No awkwardness. No looking like smiling is excruciating. (Please note the sarcasm in my voice).

Hello, inner sex kitten! My lips make me look 2 days post mortem.

So, last week I did a skit for the Jane Austen Society. I'm not a member; I merely volunteer because people in the society won't subject themselves to the same level of humiliation that I am apparently comfortable with. It reeked of old lady fanny, no kidding. All powdery, wrinkly, and stale perfume. I was told to dress in period attire and I assumed every one else would, as well. So, I'm not even a member of JASNA and I show up in full dress...and I was the only one. I can't help but laugh. I won't self-deprecate because I do find it humorous and it's very like myself, the person who hates having attention drawn to herself, to do just that. Life is therapy, living teaches me lessons daily, such as tolerance and humility. I had that happen another time in 1998 at Halloween except at that time instead of a lovely Regency gown, I was wearing a black bra with a hypodermic needle protruding from my chest and my face covered in blood. Memories.

Week 2 of my new job is complete. I feel like a complete idiot, I'm already behind in paperwork, and I basically have no idea what I'm doing. What happened to old-fashioned therapy? You know, the kind where slightly neurotic but mostly adjusted people came in to bitch about life and cry over their childhoods? I don't want to deny the fact that I am glad that I have a job. I mean, we couldn't live on bunny bread and cans of fiesta corn forever; we need the money. But I'm shy and a control freak and I adjust to change poorly, to say the least. I'm feeling completely incompetent, lost, and alone in all of this. Does everyone have these issues when beginning new jobs or is it just for the introverted nerdy type, such as myself? Happy weekend. I might go to a tacky sweater party if I can muster the desire. All I've been able to do is listen to the New Moon soundtrack over and over (which is awesome) and drink coffee (also awesome).

Random Thoughts Tuesday

2009-12-15T17:44:00.000-08:00

Today, I'm tired and unimaginative and it's my lucky day because it's:

Yes! Someone thought of a topic for this slacker. Creativity is just not in my repertoire of thoughts these days.

Gawd, I'm exhausted. And I have cramps. Wait, it's 'random thoughts' NOT random gripes. Right.
After days like today, I wonder why I'm not sleeping on a beach somewhere making a living off airbrushing shirts for tourists.
Okay, now for some visusals before I put you to sleep:

Can someone explain this to me?

And this thing chased me in a dream last night.
Look at that crazy man-foot! And the elfin middle toe! More alarming to me is the weird half-squat stance.
Now we're talking! Back when I used to smoke, I would have LOVED this! Hmm...what should this be called? Suicide?
Happy Tuesday and hopes that the rest of the week goes just as swimmingly! Cheers!

Nausea and A Picture-Free Post

2009-12-12T07:51:00.000-08:00

I feel icky, queasy, nauseous. Is there any feeling more terrible? Don't answer; I know there is.

Last night, my friend had her ornament exchange party. It was fun, but there were 2 women who were...rude. One wench didn't like my friend's choice of party game so she threw down her card, said, "I'm done with this. Why don't you sing while your husband plays guitar or something?" And the acutal ornament exchange was cut-throat this year. I'm always amazed at the expense that some go to for these things. Why would you spend a ton of money on an artisan-crafted, one-of-a-kind ornament that you know you will be giving away to a stranger at a spoiled house-wife hen party? If your ornament isn't beautiful and worthy of a roomful of 'Ahhhs' as it is opened, then it is ridiculed, dangled before the desperate recipient in hopes that the tacky, ugly thing gets 'stolen' by someone. So, this year I brought kitchen towels, 2 cheese plates, and a cheese spreader. No ornament...because I don't even have a tree. When mine was opened, silence fell over the party. Crickets. Confusion. I thought it was a good idea to give people options, but I'm once again reminded that I might be just a little crazy. No seemed to understand, it was made fun of, so I stole my own gift back. *shrugs* I know, I know, what did I not understand about 'ornament' and 'exchange'? I think I'm just a rebellious spirit. Today I have a cake hangover. *pout*

The new job is, well, NEW!!! If you have never endured SCM (safe crisis management) training, then bra-freaking-vo because it is a whole new kind of torture. In short, it is a protocol for safely restraining (without devices) individuals who are deemed to be a threat to themselves and others. It's intense! As a therapist, I'm not really sure how I feel about it. I guess that's why it's intended as a last resort.

My house is an absolute disaster. And my neighbor is losing it. He's been talking incoherently, leaving bizarre voice mails on my phone and he called me at 7am today to leave me a message that is, well, incoherent rambling about "sepia and blue tones". EEEEEeeek!! I'm NOT kidding, he's knocking on the back door as I type. Luckily he can't see me so I'll just ignore that and keep on typing. I need just ONE day off from mental illness. Just one.

Hello, It's Me...

2009-12-05T03:43:00.001-08:00

It has been a whirlwind of a two weeks. I started my new job. My past experience has been in outpatient treatment so the transition to residential psychiatric treatment is a little...overwhelming. It's a tough gig but I love it. I had always wanted to work with offenders in the prison system and this is about the closest my family will allow me to get. I have received 'advice' like, "Carry some pepper spray and squirt those suckers right in the eye if they bother you", or "Kick 'em in the crotch and take 'em down if they get too close." In case you didn't know, therapists can do neither. Even in the face of harm to ourselves, we are ethically bound to preventing harm to the clients we serve. Crisis intervention IS part of our life-long training so hopefullyI have other skills up my sleeve aside from the ol' 1-2 sucker-punch.

The past fortnight in review: I got new glasses but no pictures. Big whoop, right? Contacts are no longer an option at this point and I'm not a candidate for Lasik. When they brought my lenses to me uncut, they looked like hockey pucks. I am about one eye exam away from a cane and a seeing-eye dog.

Thankgiving: I'm posting some pictures but I'll go ahead and tell ya: my turkey tasted like crap. Since it was supposed to be just E. and me, I didn't want to waste money (or baking time) on a giganto turkey. I bought a tenderloin instead. What I failed to notice was said tenderloin was 'rotisserie' seasoned. Ick. I cannot stress this enough: ICK! The guests loved it but I still have heartburn. Why does everything taste better when it's cooked by my grandmother? Here are some pictures from the joyous occasion.

Happy Thanksgiving! This is me trying to figure out the camera. The black and white is NOT on purpose. Yes, I can be a complete dummie. And the candle is crooked which drives me crazy.

Food pictures, in my opinion, are always disgusting. They are even MORE disgusting in black and white. Yum! It looks like the contents of a petri dish.

Here is E. pretending, "Mmm...this crappy turkey is delish! And I'm only saying that because if I piss you off, I have to contend with spending the next 72 hours with your grumpy butt."

C'est moi! Frommage!

My neighbor, the English Garden Gnome. Seriously, G. is English and, naturally, doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving. I've had a beef going on with him since the spring and thought now was a good time to forgive and forget. Leave it to a man to forget my being a complete bitch all for some free food. Not to suggest in any way that he is completely innocent, the wanker.

I'm headed to Tennessee today to visit the family. I hope everyone has a great weekend!

Random Thoughts Tuesday

2009-11-24T09:05:00.000-08:00

Because I can't come up with anything on my own, I found another blogger to do it for me.

http://www.theunmom.com/

Holy cow, that's the first button to work. Maybe it's not me, after all.

Random thoughts, which are what I do best:

I have too much housework to do and I feel like pooh today. I wish a cleaning crew could be budgeted in but that means Target would be budgeted out. Not worth it.

Why haven't I heard from the licensing board yet?!

E. is home today. I feel bad because she's been sick continuously since September BUT the coughing is getting on my nerves (and that's why I'm not a nurse, folks).

Funny headline from morning news: "Paula Deen Gets Hit In the Face With Airborne Ham".

If I never hear that song, "Baby It's Cold Outside" again it will still be too soon.

On that note, there should be a law banning Gloria Estefan from ever making another album.

Oprah is going to become ruler of the world, I'm pretty sure.

Maybe it's psychological but all natural toothpaste leaves my teeth still feeling 'funky'.

I can't wait to dig out the Christmas decorations! I don't believe in decorating for one holiday before another holiday has passed...meaning, I'm waiting until Friday to decorate.

People Are Strange When You're a Stranger

2009-11-23T13:19:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, I decided to turn off my cell phone and I avoided the computer...just because.

E. and I had a photo shoot for youth basketball on Saturday morning. This is what happens when you get me and a photography background in the same room:

Whew, that's one crazy shirt I have on. E. made fun of it that day but I ignored her because she dresses like a homeless person for the most part. Speaking of which, I had one of the neighborhood transients tell me, "I don't need your help and you can just take your yuppie ass on down the road. Yuppie ass!" She was yelling at me about a car accident she was in earlier that day BUT I would guess that was just the mental illness talking. I'm not saying that to be mean. I'm saying that because she has also told me in the past that she is a horse trainer and a scientist. Maybe she is and I'm just a jaded skeptic.

A neighbor with whom I am under-acquainted (meaning I've never met them before) had a cocktail party on Saturday night. My next door neighbor's wife didn't want to go and neither did E. so I went with him instead. His wife, coincidentally, was at my house with E. watching an art documentary. There are many things I could write about this stinking party but I try to keep my blog pretty clean because, well, my job requires it. While at the party, after getting acquainted with various people whose names I can't recall, my neighbor left my side when this group of women, apparently having cased the parameter and waited for the moment to strike, flocked to where I stood. One of the women said, "Are you and (neighbor) having an affair? I mean, it's okay, we won't say anything, I'm just asking." I nearly choked on my mouthful of cheese ball. Why would my neighbor be crazy enough to take his "mistress" to a neighborhood cocktail party where his son's friends' parents would be? A party a mere 4 doors down from his own home! And why wouldn't they say anything?! And if we WERE having an affair, I certainly would have made him take me somewhere better than that stinking party (no affairs, though. I like monogamy). Now I know why I hardly crawl out of my cave. Anyway, I spent the majority of the night chatting with some smokey older man, a recent divorcee; a man who spoke in riddles like, "You know, (blowing smoke), sometimes a man's just gotta move (blowing smoke), be on the move, make a move."

And that's a wrap. Thanksgiving week. I don't know the plan just yet. Have a gobbling good time everyone!

Ramble On...

2009-11-20T11:43:00.000-08:00

People become kinda crazy right around the holidays. Why is it that getting together with family bugs us so much and makes us act, I don't know, silly? My own family drama closely resembles one of Jerry Springer's more 'base and banal' shows but that doesn't deter me from engaging in that rare form of masochism also known as 'the family holiday get-together'. What brings this conversation on? My sister-in-law asking me what the family is doing for Thanksgiving because no one has talked to her about it. Well, after consulting with my mother, family matriarch, the situation is like this: If the step-father is not in town, well, happy day! A family Thanksgiving will be enjoyed. And if he is in town? Nothing. Because the hairy, overgrown 2-year old, a supposed man, does not like said sister-in-law, therefore, she's not welcome at his house. And this means I won't be there, either, because of my own little family boycott. My mother supports this?!! Geez, what a wimp. What my step-father does not realize is that he is quickly headed toward finding himself alienated from the family, never to experience special moments in which memories are formed and memories are shared. Why would you want to be the person that NO ONE, not even your family, wants to be around? It makes me sad for him but it also makes me think really, really BAD things about him, which I think should be spared from this platform.

Don't make me say it, don't make me say it!!

"Can't we all just get along?"

There. I said it. On to other probably depressing topics. Like this...

Yes, yes, it's true, Jonesy.

Mama's out of boxed wine.

I know it sounds cheap BUT boxed wine has come a LOOOONG way since my college years. We've been cutting corners around here but we still like having a glass of chianti a few times a week. For $13, a box of wine has 5 liters of wine and it stays fresh for 6 weeks...oh, and it's actually good. This means I can have my friends and neighbors over and afford to offer them some vino with dinner. Two of my friends have become boxed wine converts, as well, which we always laugh about because the one friend now shows up at every party or potluck with her box. Hey, it's cheaper than a handbag! If you're so inclined, I suggest you give it a try.

Show Us Your Life: Pets!!!!

2009-11-20T09:42:00.000-08:00

This week is a week of firsts for me. I've always been a blog lurker because, sadly enough, technology confounds me. Well, I've been learning and I've figured it out so...here I am!!! This week at Kelly's Korner it's all about pets, which I love. Here are my beloved beasties...

Jones

She's a plain ol' tabby that wandered to our house when we lived in Tennessee. She kept getting fatter so we assumed she was pregnant and had been simply dumped off in our neighborhood (common in the college town we resided). Well, we were set to move to a new state and no shelter would take a 'pregnant' female cat, so we kept her. Once we settled in, we became concerned about her because she hadn't given birth yet so we took her to the vet. Yeah...Jones was fixed. No microchip so we got to keep her. She's an awesome kitty and acts eerily human-like sometimes. She's allergic to fish (poor thing) and suffers from a vitamin deficiency that makes her right pupil not constrict normally. We supplement her food but her eye is still a little googly sometimes.

Silas

She's a tuxedo-type cat and she's crazier than crazy. She fetches like a dog and will NOT stay out of the (new and unused) tampons in the bathroom. Honestly, she loves 'burying' them beneath all the rugs in the house so I'm often scrambling around before guests arrive to make sure there aren't any laying about. She is an attention hog and loves snuggles.

Theodore

Theodore is a Turkish Van who was rescued from a Kroger parking lot by one of my friends when Theodore was a few months old. He's THE sweetest cat in the world, hands down, but he is very anxious and has some quirks. He MUST be fed at a certain time each day or he kind of loses it and he has what the vet calls 'psychogenic alopecia', where he licks in spots until the spot is bald. We just try to give him lots of love and reassurance and distract him from over-grooming as much as possible. This is my favorite part: Hairy toes!

Theodore and Silas are pals and love each other lots!
Despite the little quirks, they live happy lives and are very much a part of our family! Love, love, love these furry little creatures!

Writer's Workshop: Think of Butthole

2009-11-19T08:04:00.000-08:00

I'm participating in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop for the first time. I'm relatively new to the whole blog thing but her blog is quirky and fun. I can't get the damn button-grab thing to work but I've linked her blog to her name. (Duh, Suzie Que). I chose the journal entry prompt and I just happen to have an authentic entry from my very own (hysterical) diary. Let your voyeruristic tendencies go wild!

Think of Butthole

March 22, 1991

I'm kidding myself. I have this image in my brain of me & Nigel being apart ,but longing deep within to be together, someday. I seem to have some perverse concept of us being cosmically compatible: Soul Mates. Reality Check: I have to face the light. I care for him more than he ever will for me. He just thinks of me as "Suzie Que", the girl he used to go out with. I think the fact that angers me most is that he doesn't drool over me. I'm a conniving, jealous, devious, envious, gossipy she-devil. I have a good family and an excellent vocabulary but a bad attitude and I am totally in love with a weirdo with a strange name. Who really names their kid Nigel in America? I act like a total idiot to make myself seem funny. Look, I'm just on a pity-trip and I'm tired. Well, you know... smile. It will get better. Think of Butthole. He shines within. (signed, of course).

Just so you'll know, "Butthole" was Patrick, my BOYFRIEND at the time! I was such a nerd in school that it's funny to think of me as a two-timing 8th grade harlot. All of this action and I still managed to not engage in kissing until I was 15. Go figure.

Post #25

2009-11-18T05:33:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile...you know, Staind ruined that line for me. Forever.

I'm sad to announce that my dancing days are over. Not THAT kind of dancing (read previous post). I don't have the...agility...to be that kind of dancer.

Instead, I got a job more closely related to my field with a salary and benefits, like a 'real' adult. I'm an idiot; it's directly related as in a therapist position. Sheesh. I'm losing it already. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Somehow, in the months of October and November, companies have actually been responding to my resumes and cover letters instead of torturing me further by not ever responding so I've been booking lots of interviews. The job I got just so happens to be the one that I really wanted. I guess I was able to mask the stink of desperation long enough to seem employable. Now maybe the nightmares and panic attacks will stop. Yay!
No more of this:

In the future I'll be complaining about a job instead of complaining about not having one. I love how things work out!

As you can tell, I've been pretty bad at taking pictures lately, so I'm stealing everyone else's on the world wide web.

I'm almost done with 'New Moon'...just in time for the movie to hit the theaters. I'm glad I read 'Twilight' before seeing the movie because the movie was just plain bad. How did the author agree to a screenplay that was so cruddy? Or was it the directing? Or the acting? I ask myself with every chapter I read, "How did life come to this? Am I so desperate for something resembling teenage lust that I've turned to vampires?" It's better than a porn addiction, I guess. I gave 'Twilight' to E.'s mom on Sunday when she was here. She said, "Oh, I'm a slow reader so I don't know when I'll get this back to you." Update: Last night she told E., "I am just reading and reading on this book and I can't put it down. It makes me feel young again." I know what we'll be discussing over turkey next week!

Flexible As a Spaghetti Noodle

2009-11-07T10:39:00.000-08:00

I just had to share this picture because I completely relate. Who doesn't type while your back is curled like a piece of macaroni? Anyone? Anyone? That's what I thought.

The Mod Squad

2009-11-07T08:21:00.000-08:00

First, let me credit the artist from whom I stole the above (awesome) picture. Artist: Jay Thompson from Missouri. Evidently, he does lots of bizarre pictures involving cats. Now about me: To pass the time until I am gainfully employed, I am teaching modern dance classes at a ballet academy. The owner ( a dance instructor with an impressive and lengthy resume) has taken a gigantic leap of faith in allowing me this opportunity...and I thank her for it.

Don't get the wrong idea. I am no dancing wonder on two feet. In fact, I'm a little rusty but considering the average age of the dancer in this class is 10, I think I'll be okay. I've at least got full brain development on my side, right? Worst case scenario, I can always tell myself, "Your cerebellum is fully grown and theirs is not." On to other topics.

Why, hello, Edward. How you doin'?

Obviously I'm the last female in America to read Twilight. I climbed out from beneath the rock and jumped on the bandwagon. No spoiler alerts here, don't worry. Of course, the rest of society is way ahead of me on this one. Anyway, it's not awful but I'm still trying to figure out the craze. Someone help me here. I'm having an issue because I don't like Bella so the whole romance side of it is lost on me. Naturally, because I'm a red-blooded female, I LOVE Edward in the book so I just imagine I'm Bella. And is something wrong with me because I keep thinking, "Come on, Bella, just do it. Become a vampire. It's sexy! I'd do it!" I'd get that vampire drunk and force him to bite me! Wait. He's 17. Does he still count as a minor if he's been 17 for 100 years?

So, fantasy aside, it's time to get caught up on some real house work. I was out of commission yesterday with a cold and the dishes have started piling up. Life is so exciting sometimes. Maybe I wouldn't become a vampire. That means the house work would go on FOREVER!

Transformation and a Wicked Spider

2009-11-04T05:35:00.000-08:00

So, this orange and black spider (the Wicked Spider) has been making its way around our house, creating beautiful webs on every inch of every porch we have (there are only 2...porches). On Halloween, it appeared on the front porch. I love the Halloween spider but it's huge and I didn't want to deter the postal worker so we gently tore down the web. Sadly, it hasn't been around since.

And what ever happened to Gideon and Henri (pronounced 'ahn-REE'), the jack-o-lanterns?

Gideon, a few days post carving and then... with a little age.

Henri seems to have become a bit...sassier.

These bad boys also donned another look for the holiday.

I played Martha Stewart on carving day, harvested the pumpkin entrails and seeds and, voila! Oh, the transformation of Halloween pumpkins. The many manifestations...reminds me of being human.

Halloween 2009

2009-11-04T05:29:00.001-08:00

Halloween: It came, it went. E. was Lil' Wayne but she/he lost the dreads somewhere along the way. What's in LW's cup, you might ask? Well, some Grade A prescription cough medicine, of course! I was Kid Rock although I look like a trashy Indiana Jones. I sang some songs beforehand to get a 'feel' for my character for the night. We attended a small get-together at a friend's house, gave out candy to a few trick-or-treaters, then called it a night. On to next year!

To judge how well we represented our characters:
Kid Rock

Lil' Wayne

An Ode to Absurdity

2009-10-30T11:44:00.000-07:00

A commercial I saw yesterday for the EZ Cracker (a device that cracks eggs because the way we've been doing it for millenia is apparently passe) made me laugh out loud. In other words, it "cracked" me up. Ummmm...

Here is the EZ Cracker working it's magic. How many of these will I be seeing at Unique Thrift in the next couple of years?

I thought I would add a few other things that are, in my opinion, absurd and, yet, so irresistable they had me thinking, "What a great Christmas present!" Kitsch is making someone some money.

#1: Spray-Batter-Batter-Batter! Introducing Batter Blaster. Sure, they sell this 'organic' stuff at Whole Foods but don't take the bait. Challenge yourself: Make pancakes the old-fashioned way...from a box.

#2: Peanut butter slices. Yes, there are jelly slices, too (called PJ slices), but I couldn't find a picture. Someone heard my pitiful pleas for an end to my spreading-the-peanut butter debacle. Finally!

#3: Over-the-top, Super-Fancy, Artistic Cakes. Is anyone else just slightly annoyed with this craze? Now every occasion seems to be one in which a nasty, fondant-laden cake is served. It has almost become shameful to have a home made, Betty Crocker-frosted birthday cake. I'm not sure if our bodies can even process something that is like eating those wax lips I used to get at Halloween (aka, fondant). So, with this cake, do you eat it? Do you put it on a shelf and dust it bi-monthly? Bring back ugly cakes, please!!!

#4: Sour Flush. Now, when you hear the word 'toilet candy', what's the first image that comes to mind? That's right! Suckers and pixie-stick-like powder, similar to Fun Dip! Nothing will convey love to your child like buying him/her a mini-toilet in which to dip and eat.

#5: Corn Dog lip balm. For those of us who crave greasy corn-dog scented lips even when it's not state fair season.

Happy Halloween!

Tag! You're It!

2009-10-28T06:48:00.000-07:00

Unbelievably, I was tagged to post 25 things about me. Let's see if I can do it:

25 Fun Facts About This Wild N' Crazy Gal

I am a natural redhead so quit asking.
I can roller skate like a pro.
I like rain and cloudy days.
I am addicted to caffeine.
Speaking of which, I will only drink my coffee black. Milk in coffee? Ew.
I recycle everything including toilet paper roll centers, receipts, etc.
I refuse to use paper towels, paper plates, paper napkins, or any disposable plastic containers.
I am super-shy and work daily at 'faking' it.
I am actually kind of freaked out about H1N1. Thanks, media! Job well-done.
I secretly pray for an early menopause. Seriously.
I am a chronic blog-lurker.
Cleaning is kind of a sickness of mine.
I have a master's in mental health counseling but I have discovered that I prefer research to actual one-on-one counseling.
I have difficulty with being empathic (hence my issue in #13).
Although I identify with being more liberal politically, I listen to right-leaning AM radio daily because I believe in being well-rounded.
I don't like spending that much time outside.
I love babies and cupcakes.
I deleted my Facebook account because I think it's a hub for nosiness and gossip.
I am obsessed with Anthony Bourdain.
I am currently reading 'Twilight' (not obsessed yet).
Knowing how books or movies end before reading or seeing them does NOT ruin the experience for me.
I have never seen most of the 1980s movies deemed classics by my generation.
This will explain why: We did not get cable or a VCR in my home until I was 16.
I am legally blind.
I am dressing as Kid Rock for Halloween.

A Tale of Two Pumpkin-Heads

2009-10-26T09:08:00.000-07:00

The pumpkins have been sitting on the back porch untouched for the past 3 weeks. Since Halloween is a mere week away, we figured there is no time like the present to carve our pumpkins. At least they won't rot before Halloween which is usually what happens because we're so overzealous to carve them. Anyway, we made an event out of it, complete with Friday the 13th (circa 1980) and some mulled cider. Yum!

E. and her pumpkin: a 'before' picture.

Me with my pumpkin in a standard 'before' shot.

A quick sip of mulled cider to spark our imaginations...Hey! What's in that metal box behind us? A ransom of $1 million dollars? Firearms? Nope and nope! Something photography related and completely, sadly benign...but you wouldn't be able to guess that from E.'s "I'm a total bad-ass" face.

Let the magic (and the madness) begin! There are no prefabricated pumpkin patterns in this house. Only talent, a vision, and an extremely flimsy and dull knife.

Voila! The finished products. One of us is an artist and the other is not. Can you tell whose is whose? If you guess correctly, I'll send you a prize.

Finally, this is Jack, the neighborhood cat. He stops by from time-to-time...and my kitties absolutely lose it when he does. He's so cute and here he is flirting with Silas up in the window. You can't see it here, but she's snorting and drooling at him...which means "Get off my porch or I'll kill you."

My brother and his girlfriend came to visit this weekend but I have no pictures because, yes, I stink.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Don't Believe All That You Read...Especially In THIS Post)

2009-10-23T07:32:00.000-07:00

KFC (formerly known as 'Kentucky Fried Chicken') is giving away free chicken. On Monday, October 26th, over 5,000 KFC restaurants will give away one free piece of chicken to customers. Since I live in Louisville, the home of YUM! Brand Foods, I hear a lot of the controversy surrounding the practices of KFC. There are rumors of 'Frankenchicken', chicken abuse from the suppliers KFC uses, and cruelty involving the animals. Well, I'm here to dispute that. I have connections, you know, so I was able to go and visit a couple of the chickens that KFC plans on using in the future. Let me tell you, the meeting was bittersweet. But KFC knows that well-dressed chickens are happier and tastier, thus making this whole grilled-chicken venture a success. Who needs a secret blend of 11 herbs and spices when you have connections to the fashion industry?

First up is Freddie. He's dressed in a cute little jumper that the KFC CEO had made just for Freddie by JUICY CHICKENS Couture. Freddie was even allowed to choose his own style and colors by pecking on a board. That is one tough bird! (Not too tough to eat, I hope...)

Next up are Gilda and Percy. They are wearing dresses crocheted just for them by little children in Nepal. Aren't they sweet?

Finally, we have Trixie. Trixie is modeling the exercise gear KFC likes their chickens to wear. Trixie is working on building some extra (hopefully lean) muscle just for us consumers. I don't know about you, but I look forward to meeting her again in the future...with a side order of potatoes! (wink wink).

And don't think the extra special treatment ends with fashion. After each chicken has been chased down, decapitated, and fully cleaned, it will receive a Kerala session, the Indian tradition of oil massage. This technique helps increase tenderness in the chicken.

Well, I feel much better knowing that not only are the chickens that KFC used are real but that the company makes sure that each chicken is treated with love and respect. Now, on Monday, don't forget to get your free piece of chicken and help support all of the good work that KFC does!

P.S. I am not vegan nor militant. I'm just having a little fun at KFC's expense. Happy Creative Friday!

Freaky Finds

2009-10-20T08:45:00.000-07:00

I always like looking at the ground when I take a walk because here in the city, you can find some interesting things. For instance, in the spring, I found a page of poetry from a book stuck in a bed of marigolds. I also find a lot, I mean A LOT, of playing cards. Here is what I found the other day:

It's a matchbook from a wedding that reads, "Susan & Johnny, September 14, 1985". Not a single match has been used. It's a bad picture because I've done something to my settings that I can't fix and neither can the photographer in the house. Oh, and the stuff in the background is my Halloween decoration, not a severe lag in cleaning. I was amazed to find a 24 year old book of matches. My first thought? "I wonder if they're still married". Bad girl!

Freaky Find #2
My little sister had a car wreck on October 14th. She's okay now but she has staples in her head and suffered from amnesia. I stayed with her on Friday, helped her wash her hair (she's a miss priss), and took her to the doctor on Monday. While we were waiting at the Medical Plaza, I used the restroom and here is what I see: Yes, that IS a roach (and some cruddy looking base boards)! Ew!! And this medical plaza is new! My little sister, who is a CNA and going to school for her LPN, works at a nursing home. Her response was, "Oh, you just don't even want to know what you'd find in hospitals and nursing homes." She's right. I don't. Ignorance is bliss.

We Are Fa-mi-ly!

2009-10-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've posted! For someone with no regular job I find myself staying busy and out of touch. So, where the heck have I been? I visited my hometown this past week for my nephew's 3rd birthday.

Here is the birthday boy, Hunter. Obviously, all of the people singing to him was overwhelming. Shyness runs in the family! Maybe he needs some Celexa. It worked for me! (Kidding, okay?)

Here is Karson's reaction to seeing his big brother's new remote-control motorcycle. So, did he try to steal it? No. Instead he developed an aversion to it and cried hysterically every time it came near him.

And here is baby sister, Chloe.

This is what little Chloe appears to be thinking:

Now, let's get a closer look at this little baby's healthy legs.
This picture doesn't do them justice. She's going to be a gymnast, I think.

This is Bryson doing his "punk dance".

In action...

Phew! Dancing will make you work up an appetite!

He's at that "Hey, watch this!" phase...

Crazy "Aunt Dinda" taking a picture of Bryson to embarrass him later for sneaking a sip of his sister's bottle at age 4.
The close-up of his fingers make them look like they belong to a gnome or Lord of the Rings creature.

There was also a bridal shower for a cousin but I didn't take pictures because I stink.

What's New, Pussycat?

2009-10-07T14:46:00.000-07:00

The title is a reference to Tom Jones, the new stylist who will be cutting my hair tomorrow. Yay! I'm starting to look a little like a news anchor. No offense to news anchors, I just don't want their hair. I've been cutting it with a pair of those orange-handled scissors for the past 10 months but for some odd reason, I haven't been satisfied lately. *shrugs*

So what else is happening? Well, since the cooler weather has moved in, I am addicted to tea with cream again.
Ooohhh...and very spooky placemats. I love this time of year!

After a fun and relaxing weekend, I return home to this:

A job rejection letter. Basically it states that "we don't need your kind here and you can just go straight to hell. Oh, yeah, and you suck. But we'll need to keep your resume for the next 45 days so we can sit back and laugh at you on Mondays when we're all grumpy and need a chuckle at your sorry, loathsome expense. P.S. You picked a stupid font for your cover letter." Okay, okay, maybe it wasn't THAT dramatic. Actually, I had completely forgotten about applying at the company so the rejection was kind of a nice reminder. That's one to mark off the list! And that's all folks!

Fall Camping Trip 2009

2009-10-07T14:21:00.000-07:00

We went to Fall Creek Falls with E.'s family over the weekend. FCF is somewhere in TN and that's about all I can tell you. It was cold and rainy and just the way I like it.

We joked about getting me liposuction in my cheeks for Christmas and getting E. some Restylane for those pesky lip-ripples.

A tisket, a tasket, a poodle in a basket.

I'm torturing myself with heights. The only thing separating my cranium from the rocky abyss below is this tiny little bridge that was probably built in 1946. I did a little therapy on myself by stepping on it...then peeing my pants.

"Ah, yeah. So THAT'S how a spider mates."

Hugs!

New York Dolls (or Not)

2009-10-01T07:57:00.000-07:00

I love how upset adults become over toys. I heard about the new American Girl doll, Gwen. I won't go into full detail but the basic idea of the doll is that she's homeless...and costs $95. I just have one question: If you buy Gwen for your kid and take her home, is she still considered homeless? My absolute favorite part is that her one accessory is a pink belt that can double as a head band. The major downside is that none of the proceeds of this ultra-expensive hunk of plastic are going to help the real issue of homelessness or any other charity for that matter.

Then there's this one: Bebe Gloton. A breastfeeding doll. I'm not sure I would have felt comfortable playing with this as a child. Never fear, parents, because this doll is sold only in Europe at this time. However, be afraid, be very afraid because, yes, it's coming. Rumor has it that it could reach the shores of the U.S. as early as next year. It's like anticipating a plague or a swarm of locusts, isn't it?

However, it could be worse. Your child could be playing with a doll that looks like this:

Or this...

Or this...

Or this...

Or, oh, the horror...THIS...

I don't even want to know the accessories for that doll. That breastfeeding doll is looking better and better.

Queen of the Castle

2009-10-01T07:11:00.000-07:00

E. needed to take a little road trip for her job so I, being the lady of leisure these days, hopped aboard the E. train and left the domestic duties of my own castle for the day. Here's what we encountered: the mysterious Martin Castle.

E. didn't have time to stop so these are taken at 65 mph. This speed allows NO time for centering or framing the image, sadly. The power lines do little to add historical merit.

If you're interested, this 'home' is on the market. Well, apparently it's been on the market since November...of 1988. Amenities include a torture chamber. Peasants available at additional cost.

Cat in a Hat?

2009-09-28T07:08:00.000-07:00

No! Cat in a bath.

End of My Rope

2009-09-25T11:03:00.000-07:00

Today I've hit a low point. I had to do something to cheer myself up and here it is. I promise, this is the last one (but they're just so fun to make). Tonight's the night. E. is begging me to not embarrass her; I'll try my best.

Implanting False Memories (In Myself)

2009-09-24T07:14:00.000-07:00

I have never had a celebrity crush. Ever, unless you count that brief Kirk Cameron phase I breezed through in 6th grade. I had no choice then, though. The only posters included in Tiger Beat were of those guys from 'Valerie's Family' (one of them had a mullet, I'm pretty sure) or Kirk Cameron...and he was cuter and sans mullet. I just find celebrities annoying. The reasons we care about their lives rarely have anything to do with their 'amazing talent'. It's because we're bombarded with their mugs constantly, conditioned over time to start thinking, " Huh, maybe this person is worth paying attention to". And the next thing you know, you're scrambling to find a TV at noon each day so you won't miss TMZ. Sorry, we really are that simple a creature and, of course, this is just my opinion. Oh, digress. Anyway, I am no exception which is why I now find myself in love with a celebrity. I am absolutely smitten with Anthony Bourdain. It's a full-blown obsession, really. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to bear his children and I'm not jealous of his wife. In fact, I think his wife is adorable and I loved the episode of 'No Reservations' they did together (Sardinia). Well, Anthony is coming to town and of course I'm going to see him. Today's post really is just a celebration! This is a 'False Memory' album of the times Anthony Bourdain and I did not enjoy together.

"False Memory Album of My Fake Life With Anthony Bourdain"

Here is Anthony playfully tousling my hair with chopsticks on our trip to China. Silly boy...

At the office Christmas Party last year. I look a little chunky.

This is us parking up at Wee-Waw Point just before he proposed.

Here we are at the Late Show. Very exciting!

Just goofing around.

This was at the food bank fundraiser last year.

Dang! We're a cute couple! A girl can dream, can't she? I will be seeing Anthony live, in person, tomorrow night at 8pm sharp! And if I'm lucky, I can snap a shot of him and zoom in really, really close.

Show the World We Can Dance!

2009-09-23T03:03:00.000-07:00

This is a remix of one of my favorite videos. If it doesn't make you feel like dancing...

maybe this one will. The words are included (and even a Pokemon creature or two) so sing along!

A Day in the Life of a Once-Feral Therapist

2009-09-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

After staying at home for oh, say, a length of time, your idea of what a good day entails...changes. A phone conversation to my SO contained the following snippets of dialogue: E: "I just called to tell you how nuts traffic was on the way to work." A: "Oh, I know! I heard. Hey, honey, the clothes in the basket on the bench, were they clean? I sniffed but couldn't tell." Yikes! I have got to get a job. Seriously, no one I know gets as excited about laundry as I do anymore. Case in point: Look what I found! Chlorine-free bleach! Yay!!!

And I made a fresh batch of laundry detergent (I started doing this before I quit work due to sensitive skin and frugality).

Then there's dinner. Ahh...fresh-baked bread.

A tomato just picked from our garden.

Oh, and wine...along with a face that only a mama could love.

I'm still working every single day on applying different places. This market stinks! People aren't offering decent salaries because everyone wants a job. I need someone to pony up some dough so I can quit baking bread...and get back to work? Sometimes my writing makes me queasy. Nothing a little more wine can't fix. Bon Appetit!

Space Oddities

2009-09-21T18:21:00.000-07:00

Ground control to Major Tom! While looking at some friend's blogs, I accidentally clicked on a page where you could get tickers for your various webspaces. This is what I found:

This is a ticker for breastfeeding. I don't know a single couple who has become so unified during the process but, again, I'm not too touchy-feely. I'm not sure what this ticker tracks, exactly, or why the dad is naked, too! Ewww...

And this gem is a ticker for "Trying to Conceive". This lets all of your blog readers know when you are going to, well, have sex. I love: 1) that it's rabbits (an obvious playful image of fertility) and 2) that the rabbits are engaged, well, in what appears to be Union of the Cow (if you don't know this one, refer to your nearest copy of the Kama Sutra).
The obvious question: Have tickers gone too far? Is there one that can remind me when to pay cable or when my sister-in-law is going to do something crazy again? To heck with surprises! I need a ticker!

Domestic Bliss...

2009-09-17T12:02:00.000-07:00

I am proud to say that I graduated with my master's in August. Yay, me, right?! Well, I have been unemployed ever since. This means that I went from success-driven professional seeking an advanced degree in my field aimed at getting the big bucks to...a...stay-at-home person (since no kids are involved). Now, there's nothing wrong with staying home. In fact, I love it, all except adjusting to living on 1/2 of what we were. Please note that I have had near-continuous employment since the age of 17. It just doesn't feel right.
My mom is always inquiring, "Since you're not working, what the heck are you doing with your time?" Contrary to popular belief, I am NOT popping bon bons and watching soaps. So for those who are curious, here is a glimpse at my newly transformed identity.

I am now a connoisseur of pie-making...

and cake-baking (PLEASE don't report me to 'cake wrecks').

I have also become quite sophisticated in the womanly arts of flower-arranging (not photography, obviously)...

and home decorating. Okay, I call shifting around the junk on my mantle "decorating". A loose interpretation.

Finally, I have made all attempts to make my home clean and comfortable for my beloved. As in the following example of the single closet in our house. The floor was once heaped with the smelly cadavers of my out-of-control shoe collection. It now looks like this... (give me a break; we have little to work with).

And now, the shoes I wear most frequently are delicately displayed just so.

Whoa, they really do look better in person. Well, that's a day in the life. I'm off to drag out the washboard and scrub some dirty skivvies down by the creek.

A Shout Out to my Cats

2009-09-10T12:58:00.000-07:00

I felt like sharing a few pictures of my little feline friends. I know quite a few people who dislike cats and I don't get it. It's like there's this big divide: you're either a dog person or a cat person. Au contraire, mon frere! I LOVE all animals. I just happen to find cats easier to maintain. A litter box, some food, heck, they take care of themselves, practically! Cats are fun. We have one who fetches, one who runs to the phone when it rings, one who runs to door and growls when someone knocks... Okay, I'm starting to sound a little crazy. Here are some pictures.

I thought this one looked a little like she was dancing in a puppet theater. Some imagination, I guess.

"All chicks dig guitar players, man."

Here's an optical illusion: Do you see a cat? I don't know. I just see some chicken legs.

WigWam Fun Fun

2009-09-07T18:44:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my new blog. It's unlikely to contain anything insightful or enlightening. Enjoy. Since this is the internet, you can rest assured that it will be: Rated PG and "family friendly". Well, unless I have a bad day, that is.