A friend of mine from class reminded me of another ridiculous thing The Thing That Wouldn't Shut Up said in class. I couldn't remember it, because the "rectal scale" comment came just before it and overshadowed it. Now that I remember it, I just had to share.
Once again, he was going on about lord knows what. Somehow, in his dumbass mind, whatever he's rambling about somehow connects to the topic at hand, but no one else in the class is able to follow his addled thought processes to make the connection.
Anyhow, he starts going on about his mom, who was a preacher. We've heard a lot about his mom and her great spiritual powers. So he starts talking about how once his niece died, and was dead for about a day, and his mom goes in, lays hands on her, and raises her from the dead.
Wow. There is so much wrong with this story... where do I begin? First of all, you'd think that if someone stops breathing, especially a little kid, someone would call an ambulance or the cops or something... but nooooo. We're supposed to believe that the fam just said, "What the hell... she's dead, but we're just going to hold tight until the Reverend So-and-so can get here and bring her back." Second, who in their right mind just hangs out for a day or so with a dead little kid in the house? Am I the only one who thinks this is just sick and stupid? Third, I totally have a gut feeling that the Thing just pulled this story out of his ass for effect. Now, I do believe that miracles still happen, and it is not entirely impossible that a person whose heart has stopped can be brought back through the power of prayer. I mean, there are numerous instances in the Bible where Jesus and the disciples raised people from the dead. In this case, however, I'm just not buying it. I think the Thing is full of crap.
The funny thing is, he's told fairy tales like this before. Every frickin' time, he precedes his totally unbelievable, half-assed statement with, "And guess what?" And you just know that the next load of crap to come out of his mouth will be total bull. Of course, most of the crap he says is total bull. He's so frickin' predictable.
It's just like when he's trying to add something to a discussion and starts out with, "Yeah, when you said that just now I started thinking..." and you know that whatever he's "started thinking" is basically a regurgitation of whatever the prof or a classmate just frickin' said. And the fact that he always says, "I STARTED thinking," is so telling. You know his brain is in complete neutral until he gets the uncontrollable urge to open his yap, and then he kicks into overdrive without having the slightest clue what the topic is. He latches on to the last sentence he heard and runs with it, taking us all on a confusing, annoying, marathon detour through the incoherent mind of The Thing That Wouldn't Shut Up.
Can you see why I could no longer control my urge to kick him in the shin? And can you really blame me? Yeah, I know it was a bitchy, immature, mean thing to do... but it felt so good. Sooooooo good. Like eating rich, dark chocolate truffles and drinking champagne while getting a foot massage from a Chippendale's dancer on a white, sandy, warm beach in Tahiti. Oh yeah, baby.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
I am trouble.
Mmmm Hmmm. Trouble.
A friend of mine regularly tells me that I am trouble. He's half-joking when he says it, but I'm starting to realize that he's right on.
I think I make things difficult for everyone around me with the drama that seems to follow me around like my own shadow these days. I don't try to do this, and I'm not particularly proud of it, but I just can't seem to avoid it.
My life has always been somewhat of a soap opera. I have always managed to find trouble and high drama, and when I don't find it, it finds me. I sometimes make very bad decisions that have long range, complicated consequences, mainly concerning relationships. I also often find myself in the middle of complicated situations through no fault of my own, like when my parents died.
Many, many people have told me that I should write a book about my life. It would definitely be an interesting read; I know that. Never a dull moment.
Here's where I start to feel bad: I don't think the people who get sucked into my soap opera have any idea what they're getting into when they get involved with me. I realize that they are adults who are perfectly capable of making their own choices, and I realize that I am not responsible for them or for their actions, but I hate the fact that I complicate their lives on a regular basis.
I don't think I am capable of avoiding my own drama; I think it's too late for that. I am who I am, and my need for excitement and my need to push the envelope are traits that are as much a part of me as the color of my eyes. But I am starting to feel so very guilty about the drama that I create in the lives of unsuspecting people with good hearts.
Am I corrupting them? Am I jading them? Maybe. Should I warn others early on in my relationships that I am not for the faint of heart? Should I warn them that I will leave them feeling bewildered, uncertain and generally like their worlds have been turned upside down? Probably. Would they really believe me if I told them exactly what they were in for? I doubt it. No one ever does when I try.
So what do I do now? I feel like I should tell the people who love me that they would be better off without me. I feel like I should push them away before I hurt them any more than I already have. I feel like I should give them permission to move on and live a normal life. I feel like I should make them understand that, since I am obviously not in control of my own drama, they remain in a relationship with me at their own risk.
This is the kick in the head: I love them too much to continue being a source of pain and confusion, but I love them too much to let them go. So where does that leave us?
A friend of mine regularly tells me that I am trouble. He's half-joking when he says it, but I'm starting to realize that he's right on.
I think I make things difficult for everyone around me with the drama that seems to follow me around like my own shadow these days. I don't try to do this, and I'm not particularly proud of it, but I just can't seem to avoid it.
My life has always been somewhat of a soap opera. I have always managed to find trouble and high drama, and when I don't find it, it finds me. I sometimes make very bad decisions that have long range, complicated consequences, mainly concerning relationships. I also often find myself in the middle of complicated situations through no fault of my own, like when my parents died.
Many, many people have told me that I should write a book about my life. It would definitely be an interesting read; I know that. Never a dull moment.
Here's where I start to feel bad: I don't think the people who get sucked into my soap opera have any idea what they're getting into when they get involved with me. I realize that they are adults who are perfectly capable of making their own choices, and I realize that I am not responsible for them or for their actions, but I hate the fact that I complicate their lives on a regular basis.
I don't think I am capable of avoiding my own drama; I think it's too late for that. I am who I am, and my need for excitement and my need to push the envelope are traits that are as much a part of me as the color of my eyes. But I am starting to feel so very guilty about the drama that I create in the lives of unsuspecting people with good hearts.
Am I corrupting them? Am I jading them? Maybe. Should I warn others early on in my relationships that I am not for the faint of heart? Should I warn them that I will leave them feeling bewildered, uncertain and generally like their worlds have been turned upside down? Probably. Would they really believe me if I told them exactly what they were in for? I doubt it. No one ever does when I try.
So what do I do now? I feel like I should tell the people who love me that they would be better off without me. I feel like I should push them away before I hurt them any more than I already have. I feel like I should give them permission to move on and live a normal life. I feel like I should make them understand that, since I am obviously not in control of my own drama, they remain in a relationship with me at their own risk.
This is the kick in the head: I love them too much to continue being a source of pain and confusion, but I love them too much to let them go. So where does that leave us?
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Get this.
I just discovered this website. I'm adding it to my links.
http://www.peoplefallingover.com/index.html
It's all about people biffing it. Dear God, I am so very, very happy.
http://www.peoplefallingover.com/index.html
It's all about people biffing it. Dear God, I am so very, very happy.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Warning: Uncharacteristic sentimentality
It's true: I do have a sickly sweet, schmaltzy sentimental streak. I save silly romantic mementos, every picture my kids have ever drawn for me, and really dumb things like my fat jeans.
Christmastime always brings out my sentimental streak. Not for long, but it does briefly rear its emo head every year.
This year I'm thinking about my relationships and how much they've changed since last Christmas. There are people who have become as important to me as breathing in the past year. People who have helped me discover things about myself that I may otherwise have never known. People who have brought out emotions that I didn't know I could feel. People who have loved and protected me at my most fragile, but have had the love and integrity to put me in my place when I've needed it. People who have brought out the best in me. People I've grown to love and cherish.
Then there are people who no longer hold a great importance in my life. People who have disappointed me or whom I have disappointed. People who feel that I have changed too much to live within the parameters of the former relationship. People who I can no longer maintain a relationship with because of how much I know I have changed. People who have hurt me deeply for the first time, and people who have hurt me continually over the years, to the point where I can no longer love them. People who have brought out the worst in me. People who have drifted to the fringes of my life, or who have drifted away entirely.
The one constant in life is change, right? And I have learned that all change, even change for the better, brings at least a little pain and a sense of loss along with the joy and excitement of a new adventure.
This Christmas I am reflecting on the joy and excitement, but can't ignore the pain and loss on the flip side of the coin. Love and friendship can be bittersweet, but you can't savor the sweetness with abandon if you haven't known the ordeal of holding the bitter on your tongue for just a moment too long.
May this next year be one of love, passion, self-discovery, joy and fulfillment for each and every one of us.
Merry Christmas.
(Yeah, I can only do that about once a year. Maybe twice. If I get syrupy more often than that, please frickin' shoot me.)
Christmastime always brings out my sentimental streak. Not for long, but it does briefly rear its emo head every year.
This year I'm thinking about my relationships and how much they've changed since last Christmas. There are people who have become as important to me as breathing in the past year. People who have helped me discover things about myself that I may otherwise have never known. People who have brought out emotions that I didn't know I could feel. People who have loved and protected me at my most fragile, but have had the love and integrity to put me in my place when I've needed it. People who have brought out the best in me. People I've grown to love and cherish.
Then there are people who no longer hold a great importance in my life. People who have disappointed me or whom I have disappointed. People who feel that I have changed too much to live within the parameters of the former relationship. People who I can no longer maintain a relationship with because of how much I know I have changed. People who have hurt me deeply for the first time, and people who have hurt me continually over the years, to the point where I can no longer love them. People who have brought out the worst in me. People who have drifted to the fringes of my life, or who have drifted away entirely.
The one constant in life is change, right? And I have learned that all change, even change for the better, brings at least a little pain and a sense of loss along with the joy and excitement of a new adventure.
This Christmas I am reflecting on the joy and excitement, but can't ignore the pain and loss on the flip side of the coin. Love and friendship can be bittersweet, but you can't savor the sweetness with abandon if you haven't known the ordeal of holding the bitter on your tongue for just a moment too long.
May this next year be one of love, passion, self-discovery, joy and fulfillment for each and every one of us.
Merry Christmas.
(Yeah, I can only do that about once a year. Maybe twice. If I get syrupy more often than that, please frickin' shoot me.)
Friday, December 22, 2006
Christmas Shopping
Okay, I know I said I love spending money... and I really, really do.
What I do not love is spending eight hours straight running from store to store, mall to mall, two of those hours with the kids in tow, with hardly a break.
Now, I know this marathon shopping trip was partially my own fault... okay, all my own fault, because I am the Queen of Procrastination and waited until the final minute to start my Christmas shopping. But DAMN. I have a great deal of stamina, especially when it comes to things that I take pleasure in, but after yesterday I was so very, very tired. Too tired to go out, even. I had one double jag bomb out in the garage last night and then fell into bed.
I take satisfaction in the fact that my shopping is done, the gifts are wrapped and under the tree, and all I have to worry about now is buying stuff to make corn pudding for Christmas Eve and an egg bake for Christmas morning, and stopping to get a couple bottles of champagne and a couple movies to veg out with on Christmas night.
I suppose I can do those things tomorrow. For right now, I don't even want to think about shopping.
Dear God... did I really just say that?????
What I do not love is spending eight hours straight running from store to store, mall to mall, two of those hours with the kids in tow, with hardly a break.
Now, I know this marathon shopping trip was partially my own fault... okay, all my own fault, because I am the Queen of Procrastination and waited until the final minute to start my Christmas shopping. But DAMN. I have a great deal of stamina, especially when it comes to things that I take pleasure in, but after yesterday I was so very, very tired. Too tired to go out, even. I had one double jag bomb out in the garage last night and then fell into bed.
I take satisfaction in the fact that my shopping is done, the gifts are wrapped and under the tree, and all I have to worry about now is buying stuff to make corn pudding for Christmas Eve and an egg bake for Christmas morning, and stopping to get a couple bottles of champagne and a couple movies to veg out with on Christmas night.
I suppose I can do those things tomorrow. For right now, I don't even want to think about shopping.
Dear God... did I really just say that?????
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The Best Christmas Present EVER
I had school last night, and The Thing That Wouldn't Shut Up was blahblahfricketyblahing as usual. But there was one moment that made this particular night of rambling so very memorable.
The Thing was talking about something that was apparently very important to him, although I had no clue what the hell he was going on about, and he goes, "Yeah, it was like a 10.0 on the rectal scale." It took me a split second, but then I realized he meant the Richter scale. I had to clap my hand over my mouth, get up and leave the room quick to avoid laughing hysterically in front of him. I mean, holy crap, dude... how do you confuse an asshole with an earthquake???
That one moment alone made the three and a half hours of pointless ramblings entirely worth it last night. I couldn't wait to get home and share this priceless snippet of classic Thingism with anyone who would listen. I actually sped all the way home because I seriously could not wait to start spreading my mean-spirited joy.
What an absolutely marvelous Christmas present from my favorite classmate. Holy frickin' crap. I'm still laughing out loud about this one.
The Thing was talking about something that was apparently very important to him, although I had no clue what the hell he was going on about, and he goes, "Yeah, it was like a 10.0 on the rectal scale." It took me a split second, but then I realized he meant the Richter scale. I had to clap my hand over my mouth, get up and leave the room quick to avoid laughing hysterically in front of him. I mean, holy crap, dude... how do you confuse an asshole with an earthquake???
That one moment alone made the three and a half hours of pointless ramblings entirely worth it last night. I couldn't wait to get home and share this priceless snippet of classic Thingism with anyone who would listen. I actually sped all the way home because I seriously could not wait to start spreading my mean-spirited joy.
What an absolutely marvelous Christmas present from my favorite classmate. Holy frickin' crap. I'm still laughing out loud about this one.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Sooooo pissed!
Okay, I'm warning you... this will be an angry, nasty post. Read on at your own risk.
So there's this bitch up at the bar who's been spreading nasty rumors about me and a couple of my friends and some illicit escapades we've supposedly engaged in. None of these rumors are true, in fact, they're absolutely outrageous if you stop to think about it. But, some idiots will believe anything they hear, even when it comes from a fat, ugly, lying, annoying, smelly nasty snake of a lezbo who is known for butting in where she doesn't belong and for generally being a lying bag of crap.
This has gotten so bad that one friend has stopped coming to the bar for a while. Apparently word of these rumors got back to his girlfriend and made for a nasty confrontation. Of course she trusts him and believes him, but STILL. Nice junior high atmosphere complete with the drunken adult equivalent of a bunch of kids playing the Telephone Game.
So I'm up at the bar last night with my husband and our friend. I've already heard the rumors, have denied any and all involvement, know damn well who started said rumors (because she started the exact same rumor a couple years ago about one of the people involved, but last time it involved him and two totally different people), and I am thoroughly pissed off. I've been cursing her all day, and I go to the bar to relax and have a couple drinks.
Who should slither in but that doughy-faced, buzzsaw-voiced, mullet-wearing poor excuse for a woman!?!?! She sits across the bar from me, strategically avoiding my gaze (smart choice, because if looks could kill she would've keeled over immediately... God, I wish she'd had the nerve to look at me), with this yellow-toothed earthworm-lipped smirk on her medusa face.
I swear to God, it took everything I had to keep from leaping over the bar and clawing her shifty little eyes out. Remember what finally happened to The Thing with my urge to kick him? That bitch is just begging for an old-fashioned beatdown. The only thing that saved her last night was some quick thinking on the parts of my husband and our best friend along with some well-timed fury-diffusing jokes. That and a shot or two to dull my rage.
That lying bag of crap just crossed the wrong person. She has no idea. Yeah, I seem like a nice person, but so did David Banner right before someone pissed him off and he turned into the frickin' Hulk. (Again with the Incredible Hulk reference... maybe I should lay off the Sci-fi channel.) I can turn into a real bitch in a split second when provoked, and there is no better way to provoke me than to rape my moral character at my local hangout. The last time someone made me this furious he woke up in the middle of the night to find me standing over him with a tube of superglue, seconds away from gluing his twig to his berries. He learned pretty quickly that you just do not screw with me. I haven't decided yet exactly how I'm going to handle the bar bitch, but trust me when I say that it will be sweet. For me.
As for you, Robin (you ugly, bloated, sweaty owl pellet), be afraid. Be very afraid.
So there's this bitch up at the bar who's been spreading nasty rumors about me and a couple of my friends and some illicit escapades we've supposedly engaged in. None of these rumors are true, in fact, they're absolutely outrageous if you stop to think about it. But, some idiots will believe anything they hear, even when it comes from a fat, ugly, lying, annoying, smelly nasty snake of a lezbo who is known for butting in where she doesn't belong and for generally being a lying bag of crap.
This has gotten so bad that one friend has stopped coming to the bar for a while. Apparently word of these rumors got back to his girlfriend and made for a nasty confrontation. Of course she trusts him and believes him, but STILL. Nice junior high atmosphere complete with the drunken adult equivalent of a bunch of kids playing the Telephone Game.
So I'm up at the bar last night with my husband and our friend. I've already heard the rumors, have denied any and all involvement, know damn well who started said rumors (because she started the exact same rumor a couple years ago about one of the people involved, but last time it involved him and two totally different people), and I am thoroughly pissed off. I've been cursing her all day, and I go to the bar to relax and have a couple drinks.
Who should slither in but that doughy-faced, buzzsaw-voiced, mullet-wearing poor excuse for a woman!?!?! She sits across the bar from me, strategically avoiding my gaze (smart choice, because if looks could kill she would've keeled over immediately... God, I wish she'd had the nerve to look at me), with this yellow-toothed earthworm-lipped smirk on her medusa face.
I swear to God, it took everything I had to keep from leaping over the bar and clawing her shifty little eyes out. Remember what finally happened to The Thing with my urge to kick him? That bitch is just begging for an old-fashioned beatdown. The only thing that saved her last night was some quick thinking on the parts of my husband and our best friend along with some well-timed fury-diffusing jokes. That and a shot or two to dull my rage.
That lying bag of crap just crossed the wrong person. She has no idea. Yeah, I seem like a nice person, but so did David Banner right before someone pissed him off and he turned into the frickin' Hulk. (Again with the Incredible Hulk reference... maybe I should lay off the Sci-fi channel.) I can turn into a real bitch in a split second when provoked, and there is no better way to provoke me than to rape my moral character at my local hangout. The last time someone made me this furious he woke up in the middle of the night to find me standing over him with a tube of superglue, seconds away from gluing his twig to his berries. He learned pretty quickly that you just do not screw with me. I haven't decided yet exactly how I'm going to handle the bar bitch, but trust me when I say that it will be sweet. For me.
As for you, Robin (you ugly, bloated, sweaty owl pellet), be afraid. Be very afraid.
Friday, December 15, 2006
My Christmas Wish List
I love stuff. I love getting presents. Here is my Christmas list this year.
1. Peace on earth. (Not really... I'm much more shallow than that. I just wanted to appear selfless for a split second.)
2. The Electric Company on DVD. That show rocked when I was a kid. I have been waiting for years for it to come out on DVD, and now my dream has come true. Remember Easy Reader? Uh, uh, uh.
3. The second season of Grey's Anatomy on DVD. That show is awesome. Patrick Dempsey is so yummy. Hey, this could turn out to be a DVD Christmas all around! And I totally need another way to blow off my daily responsibilities... sitting on my ass drooling over Dr. McDreamy sounds like the perfect choice.
4. Beautiful by Estee Lauder. That is my scent. Bath gel, lotion, perfume, I'll take anything. Sometimes I overdo it a little with the perfume, just because I love the smell so much.
5. Gift cards to my favorite clothing stores: Aeropostale, The Gap, and Ann Taylor. Victoria's Secret would also be acceptable. Mind you, it must be gift cards. I don't trust anyone to pick out my wardrobe for me. I am very picky about colors, fabrics, and cuts.
6. A gift certificate for a 90 minute massage. I carry so much tension in my neck and shoulders, and I've had a lot of tension lately. There was this massage therapist at this hospice conference I went to... he was awesome. I would so love to spend a good hour and a half with him and let him work out my knots. Now before you take that wrong, he's totally gay and I was talking about the knots in my muscles. No sexual innuendos at Christmastime. At least not in my wish list.
7. A frickin' heated seat for my mom-mobile. I am always freezing, and getting in the car to drive the kids to school in the morning is just brutal. My husband's truck has heated seats... it's so nice to have a toasty ass when it's cold outside.
I think those are the main things I covet this holiday season. I'll let ya know if I think of anything else I feel I can't live without.
1. Peace on earth. (Not really... I'm much more shallow than that. I just wanted to appear selfless for a split second.)
2. The Electric Company on DVD. That show rocked when I was a kid. I have been waiting for years for it to come out on DVD, and now my dream has come true. Remember Easy Reader? Uh, uh, uh.
3. The second season of Grey's Anatomy on DVD. That show is awesome. Patrick Dempsey is so yummy. Hey, this could turn out to be a DVD Christmas all around! And I totally need another way to blow off my daily responsibilities... sitting on my ass drooling over Dr. McDreamy sounds like the perfect choice.
4. Beautiful by Estee Lauder. That is my scent. Bath gel, lotion, perfume, I'll take anything. Sometimes I overdo it a little with the perfume, just because I love the smell so much.
5. Gift cards to my favorite clothing stores: Aeropostale, The Gap, and Ann Taylor. Victoria's Secret would also be acceptable. Mind you, it must be gift cards. I don't trust anyone to pick out my wardrobe for me. I am very picky about colors, fabrics, and cuts.
6. A gift certificate for a 90 minute massage. I carry so much tension in my neck and shoulders, and I've had a lot of tension lately. There was this massage therapist at this hospice conference I went to... he was awesome. I would so love to spend a good hour and a half with him and let him work out my knots. Now before you take that wrong, he's totally gay and I was talking about the knots in my muscles. No sexual innuendos at Christmastime. At least not in my wish list.
7. A frickin' heated seat for my mom-mobile. I am always freezing, and getting in the car to drive the kids to school in the morning is just brutal. My husband's truck has heated seats... it's so nice to have a toasty ass when it's cold outside.
I think those are the main things I covet this holiday season. I'll let ya know if I think of anything else I feel I can't live without.
Have Yourself a Merry Frickin' Christmas
I finally put up my Christmas decorations. I know, I know... only a week before Christmas and I'm just now getting my act together. Sad. Have I done any Christmas shopping? No, no I haven't.
Last year I had a lot of my Christmas shopping done long before Thanksgiving, because I had surgery on November 17th and didn't want my hubby to worry about what to get the kids for Christmas in the event that I died on the operating table. Morbid, I know... but it rocked because I could lie around and recuperate during the Christmas season without worrying about fighting the crowds in the stores.
This year I am the Queen of Procrastination. And I wear my crown with pride. Well, not really. I feel kinda bad about the whole thing. I mean, if it was just me I wouldn't give a rat's ass and probably wouldn't put up a tree at all, but the kids need that kind of stuff. I should've gotten off my ass the day after Thanksgiving and pulled out all the holiday boxes, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
Maybe my husband is right. Maybe I am the laziest woman on the planet. Or maybe I am overstressed with school and life in general and can use that as an excuse. I'd like to use that as an excuse.
But whatever... the decorations are up, the tree is lit, the house smells like pine and cinnamon, the kids are happy, and I'll take what I can get.
Now I just have to force myself to get out there and shop. Now, I have no trouble spending money. None whatsoever. That's why my husband took all my credit cards away. I love buying stuff... somehow it makes me very happy to acquire things. This past year I bought myself an extensive wardrobe as my weight went down. Hell, I was buying a whole new wardrobe almost every month as my sizes shrank from the 20's to the teens to the single digits. Now I have no excuse to buy a buttload of new clothes until the weather warms up, so it's good that I get to go Christmas shopping. I can get my spending fix, even though the stuff is all for other people.
The only problem I have with holiday shopping is the people. People bug me. Especially the ones who have no concept of personal space. Yeah, go ahead and stop your cart in the middle of an aisle and look around while other people are waiting for you to move your ass so they can get past you. Go ahead and reach right in front of me to grab something off a shelf. Go ahead and stand so close to me in the checkout line that I can feel your breath on the back on my neck. Go ahead and do all those things. You'd better just pray that I can keep my inner holiday bitch under control long enough to keep from kicking your ass in the middle of Macy's.
As David Banner used to say, "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
Last year I had a lot of my Christmas shopping done long before Thanksgiving, because I had surgery on November 17th and didn't want my hubby to worry about what to get the kids for Christmas in the event that I died on the operating table. Morbid, I know... but it rocked because I could lie around and recuperate during the Christmas season without worrying about fighting the crowds in the stores.
This year I am the Queen of Procrastination. And I wear my crown with pride. Well, not really. I feel kinda bad about the whole thing. I mean, if it was just me I wouldn't give a rat's ass and probably wouldn't put up a tree at all, but the kids need that kind of stuff. I should've gotten off my ass the day after Thanksgiving and pulled out all the holiday boxes, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
Maybe my husband is right. Maybe I am the laziest woman on the planet. Or maybe I am overstressed with school and life in general and can use that as an excuse. I'd like to use that as an excuse.
But whatever... the decorations are up, the tree is lit, the house smells like pine and cinnamon, the kids are happy, and I'll take what I can get.
Now I just have to force myself to get out there and shop. Now, I have no trouble spending money. None whatsoever. That's why my husband took all my credit cards away. I love buying stuff... somehow it makes me very happy to acquire things. This past year I bought myself an extensive wardrobe as my weight went down. Hell, I was buying a whole new wardrobe almost every month as my sizes shrank from the 20's to the teens to the single digits. Now I have no excuse to buy a buttload of new clothes until the weather warms up, so it's good that I get to go Christmas shopping. I can get my spending fix, even though the stuff is all for other people.
The only problem I have with holiday shopping is the people. People bug me. Especially the ones who have no concept of personal space. Yeah, go ahead and stop your cart in the middle of an aisle and look around while other people are waiting for you to move your ass so they can get past you. Go ahead and reach right in front of me to grab something off a shelf. Go ahead and stand so close to me in the checkout line that I can feel your breath on the back on my neck. Go ahead and do all those things. You'd better just pray that I can keep my inner holiday bitch under control long enough to keep from kicking your ass in the middle of Macy's.
As David Banner used to say, "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
It Finally Happened!
I did it. Last night at school I kicked The Thing That Wouldn't Shut Up in the shin.
First of all, in my defense, I am sick. Yeah, I know you're saying, "Sick in the head," and I freely admit to that, but I'm talking physically ill. I have a horrible head and chest cold, and I had a nasty fibromyalgia flare-up yesterday. Everything hurt, I had vertigo and a headache, and generally felt like crap.
So I'm at school, and The Thing is going on and on about nothing as usual. He bugs the frickin' crap out of me when I'm at my best, but when I'm sick... holy crap. I wanted to hurt him. We get put into discussion groups to talk about the similarities/differences between four worldviews, and I have the misfortune of getting stuck with The Thing. We're talking about the difference between polytheistic worldviews and monotheistic worldviews. Now, this should not be difficult, since we took a class last spring on worldviews. Well, anything involving The Thing automatically becomes difficult. He's struggling with the definition of polytheism, and I lost it. I go, "Ya know, we just took a WHOLE FRICKIN' CLASS on this stuff. You should know this." He goes, "I can't keep all that information in my head."
I got exasperated, and I kicked him in the shin. Sad thing was, it didn't even phase him. Nor did it shut him up. Made me wish I'd kicked him a lot harder.
Many of you thought I've always been the bitchiest chick on earth. You were so wrong. NOW I am officially the bitchiest chick on earth.
First of all, in my defense, I am sick. Yeah, I know you're saying, "Sick in the head," and I freely admit to that, but I'm talking physically ill. I have a horrible head and chest cold, and I had a nasty fibromyalgia flare-up yesterday. Everything hurt, I had vertigo and a headache, and generally felt like crap.
So I'm at school, and The Thing is going on and on about nothing as usual. He bugs the frickin' crap out of me when I'm at my best, but when I'm sick... holy crap. I wanted to hurt him. We get put into discussion groups to talk about the similarities/differences between four worldviews, and I have the misfortune of getting stuck with The Thing. We're talking about the difference between polytheistic worldviews and monotheistic worldviews. Now, this should not be difficult, since we took a class last spring on worldviews. Well, anything involving The Thing automatically becomes difficult. He's struggling with the definition of polytheism, and I lost it. I go, "Ya know, we just took a WHOLE FRICKIN' CLASS on this stuff. You should know this." He goes, "I can't keep all that information in my head."
I got exasperated, and I kicked him in the shin. Sad thing was, it didn't even phase him. Nor did it shut him up. Made me wish I'd kicked him a lot harder.
Many of you thought I've always been the bitchiest chick on earth. You were so wrong. NOW I am officially the bitchiest chick on earth.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Aerosmith and the Guppy
Last Thursday night I went to the Aerosmith concert at the Target Center. Aerosmith totally rocks. Steven Tyler was as hot as I thought he'd be. He had on these tight little sheer, sparkly pants... soooooooooo nice. I could totally see him too, because we had killer seats. My thighs and butt were so sore Friday morning from dancing. They played mostly classic stuff, and they were in excellent voice.
Couldn't say the same for Motley Crue. I thought they kinda sucked. Very gimmicky in a crappy and vulgar way, I suppose to distract the audience from the fact that musically they sucked ass. They dropped the F-bomb left and right and had naked chicks on the big screen behind them, which was dumb but slightly funny, because I looked around and couldn't believe how many stupid parents brought their little kids... like between 6 and 8 year old kids. Then these parents look all appalled because of what their kids are hearing and seeing, and I'm wondering what the hell they expected from frickin' Motley Crue. Seriously.
So after the concert, we stopped at Big Louie's for a couple drinks. There was this crazy couple there... I laughed my ass off. The guy looked like some kind of albino guppy... he had that really icky color red hair, the kind that's almost a yellowish orange, like a bleached out carrot or something, and his skin was chalk white, except for his bald spot, which was a rosy, shiny pink. His eyes were super far apart and really buggy, and he had this weird, pouty mouth that completed the guppy look. Plus, he was wearing probably the gayest argyle sweater vest I have ever seen. Ever. He was sooooo wasted. His chick was this short, fat, loud bitch that reminded me of Roseanne. She was totally wasted too, and she was yelling at him and insulting him constantly. The meaner she got the more his eyes bugged out. I started wondering if someone should hold his drink under his chin just in case one of those eyeballs bugged out enough to pop out of his pasty, fishlike head.
Anyhow, she starts yelling at him that it's time to go and that he's got five minutes to get his ass in the car or she's leaving without him. She goes outside and he just sits there sipping his drink and annoying everyone with his slurred attempts at intelligent conversation. He tried to put his coat on to leave, but couldn't find the sleeves. After several attempts he gave up and just sat down again to finish his drink. We all start telling him he should just shut up, go home and go to bed, and he's telling us we can't make him leave. I go, "Well, your woman is either gonna leave without you or come back in and kick your ass, and I'm not sure which one I'd like to see more." That just made his eyes even buggier. By this time, I was no longer able to just laugh in my head. I was totally laughing my ass off at the whole situation. Maybe he felt bad that I was laughing at him, but I'm sure he didn't remember much in the morning.
The guppy finally finds his coat arms and leaves, but he's so wasted he doesn't notice that there are a couple steps down to the parking lot. The guppy totally biffed it. HARD. Total belly flop onto the pavement. Since he was so wasted, he didn't feel a thing and got up and stumbled to his car. At this point the bartender called the cops, because these soaks totally shouldn't be on the road. Not thirty seconds later, we see the flashing lights down the street. Yep, the guppy and Roseanne got pulled over and both of them got hauled off to detox. Classic.
What a fabulous night. I had killer seats to Aerosmith, got to lust after Steven Tyler live, got to laugh at drunks at the bar, AND saw one of the sweetest biffs I've seen in a long time. Yeah, baby.
Couldn't say the same for Motley Crue. I thought they kinda sucked. Very gimmicky in a crappy and vulgar way, I suppose to distract the audience from the fact that musically they sucked ass. They dropped the F-bomb left and right and had naked chicks on the big screen behind them, which was dumb but slightly funny, because I looked around and couldn't believe how many stupid parents brought their little kids... like between 6 and 8 year old kids. Then these parents look all appalled because of what their kids are hearing and seeing, and I'm wondering what the hell they expected from frickin' Motley Crue. Seriously.
So after the concert, we stopped at Big Louie's for a couple drinks. There was this crazy couple there... I laughed my ass off. The guy looked like some kind of albino guppy... he had that really icky color red hair, the kind that's almost a yellowish orange, like a bleached out carrot or something, and his skin was chalk white, except for his bald spot, which was a rosy, shiny pink. His eyes were super far apart and really buggy, and he had this weird, pouty mouth that completed the guppy look. Plus, he was wearing probably the gayest argyle sweater vest I have ever seen. Ever. He was sooooo wasted. His chick was this short, fat, loud bitch that reminded me of Roseanne. She was totally wasted too, and she was yelling at him and insulting him constantly. The meaner she got the more his eyes bugged out. I started wondering if someone should hold his drink under his chin just in case one of those eyeballs bugged out enough to pop out of his pasty, fishlike head.
Anyhow, she starts yelling at him that it's time to go and that he's got five minutes to get his ass in the car or she's leaving without him. She goes outside and he just sits there sipping his drink and annoying everyone with his slurred attempts at intelligent conversation. He tried to put his coat on to leave, but couldn't find the sleeves. After several attempts he gave up and just sat down again to finish his drink. We all start telling him he should just shut up, go home and go to bed, and he's telling us we can't make him leave. I go, "Well, your woman is either gonna leave without you or come back in and kick your ass, and I'm not sure which one I'd like to see more." That just made his eyes even buggier. By this time, I was no longer able to just laugh in my head. I was totally laughing my ass off at the whole situation. Maybe he felt bad that I was laughing at him, but I'm sure he didn't remember much in the morning.
The guppy finally finds his coat arms and leaves, but he's so wasted he doesn't notice that there are a couple steps down to the parking lot. The guppy totally biffed it. HARD. Total belly flop onto the pavement. Since he was so wasted, he didn't feel a thing and got up and stumbled to his car. At this point the bartender called the cops, because these soaks totally shouldn't be on the road. Not thirty seconds later, we see the flashing lights down the street. Yep, the guppy and Roseanne got pulled over and both of them got hauled off to detox. Classic.
What a fabulous night. I had killer seats to Aerosmith, got to lust after Steven Tyler live, got to laugh at drunks at the bar, AND saw one of the sweetest biffs I've seen in a long time. Yeah, baby.
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