Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
HE'S REALLY DOWN, HE AIN'T NO CLOWN
As I pulled into the convenience store this morning for my $1.29 cup of coffee, I saw this outside the door.
No, I am not kidding.
Picture:
Young guy, maybe 23 years old. Frosted blonde tips on his specifically tousled hairdo, made to look as if he'd been out in the wind (which there was none) or just got done surfing (which he wasn't). Reflective bug-eye Oakley sunglasses, or knock-offs with the same general look.
Black business suit. Black. Not pin-striped or patterned or houndstooth or grey... black. Grey shirt, lapels of the shirt popping out of the jacket.
White tie. White satin tie. BRIGHT FUCKING WHITE SATIN TIE.
Holding his coffee and smoking his cigarette standing outside the door of Circle-K.
Dude, I don't know if you're trying to be a Soprano, or if you're just miserably lost from the cast of some strange Broadway play, or what kind of zoot suit java jive you're looking for at 7:30 in the morning in Phoenix, Arizona, but your ensemble is a little out of place.
Black suit, grey shirt, bright white satin tie, oakleys, highlighted messy hair, $1.29 coffee, and a cig.
Hope that works out for you, there, Vinnie.
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This morning, it appears that my headache is either subsiding or is completely gone. I have a dull ache now on the left side of my head (was behind my eyes, then left side-back of head) and hopefully that'll go away by mid-day if I don't think about it too much.
Yesterday at work was amazingly busy. I don't think we quit moving from the time I got there until almost 3pm. We had about 45 people in our office, simultaneous meetings, simultaneous luncheons, weather changes, out-of-towners, and high ranking state government officials in our office yesterday. Couple that with someone on my team not pulling her weight around the office, and I was just happy to get out of there. I don't at all mind being busy all day, but when I damn near run over someone's slow-walking ass with the food and beverage cart on my way to stock a meeting room or make sure lunch is ready for the higher-up mucky-mucks, you'd better either start walking as fast as me or get the fuck out of my way. She did the latter, of course, planting herself in a co-worker's cubicle (who was't involved with the meetings) to have a leisurely conversation (probably about how I almost ran over her slow-walkin ass with the cart) until I came back around the corner with a full cart and our boss came up behind me with full arms.
Busted.
Oh well. Either way it's done, and a rewarding day was had by most, and everything went over well.
Aside from and in addition to that, things seem to be going well. I'm struggling a little bit with some news that S. gave me yesterday, we're trying to figure out if it's a hoax or not... it seems the USAF (at least) is suspending re-enlistment bonuses in many, many career fields... and of course, his new one, is one of the fields that would be affected. That's a substantial lump of money, and we were kind of.. "counting on it" in three years to round out any financial needs we might have by that time. Apparently they gave out some very basic information at school, and we should be expecting a follow-up "later." That would suck moldy, moldy ass. Hopefully it's some kind of a hoax, or at the very least it's something that might be re-instated later down the road... before he re-enlists. He might not re-enlist without a bonus, because re-enlistment will surely mean a one-year tour in Korea. An extra $50,000 could make that easier to live with.
S. and I also had a wonderful, glorious conversation about our relationship and where we'd like to see it go in the future, conversations about roles and boundaries and responsibilities to one another. It's a conversation I knew and hoped I'd have to have eventually when I ended up with "the one," because I have some views on roles in marriage that not everyone would particularly agree with. Turns out, S. agrees with them. Which makes me very excited, and just convinces me some more that I have found my "home."
That's about the size of that. That's about it. Yeah. Yeah, turn me over, I'm done on this side.
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Tuesday, March 30, 2004
BABY, DO YOU WANNA DANCE?
I went home from work yesterday with what I can only describe as a migraine. As I am trying to avoid one this morning and because it took me an excruciatingly long time to type the below post while I wasn't feeling well, I'm not going to have a full update this morning. Thanks for understanding.
Please to kindly focus your attention on the long, long rant below.
I got home about 1pm after finding some soup at the grocery store and some medicine, and tried to sleep on the couch in two living rooms before settling into the bedroom. Only in the dark, with a pillow over my eyes, with the cooler on 72 and the fan blowing directly on me could I get any sleep. I slept in two-hour chunks until about 7pm when I got up and made myself eat some more food. Then I was up until almost 10pm and went back to bed.
Where I tossed and turned all night, despite my immediate and honest need to go back to sleep so I could make it in to work today and actually make it all day long.
Migraine headaches suck. Thank yew fer yore support.
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Monday, March 29, 2004
GOD SOMETIMES YOU JUST DON'T COME THROUGH...
... I GOTTA FIND WHAT YOU'RE DOING ABOUT THINGS HERE -
A FEW WITCHES BURNING GETS A LITTLE TOASTY HERE
My friend Texas T-Bone has written a little piece about the Pledge of Allegiance. I was going to write about it late last week, but since I'm not a political blogger, I avoided the topic.
Reading his blog entry, despite the humor held within it, and a comment or two from others, I decided I would write.
I am a 34 year old, financially conservative, pro-military woman who for the majority of her life voted Republican. I was raised in a conservative Republican family in a family of "haves" rather than "have nots." I was also raised in a Catholic household, became born-again Christian at the age of 15, became disillusioned with the Christian church about the time I was 18 years old or so, and when I was in college started learning about and exploring world religions, while trying to find a faith I could agree with. Having experience and knowledge of the world's religions has given me a new and interesting perspective on world relations, international relations, and how people of the world view one another and the planet. And then I found the path that best suited me.
I have never condemned other peoples' religion, although I have been repeatedly condemned for my own choice of religion since converting to Paganism in the early 1990's. I have watched my husband struggle with acceptance in the military due to his religious choice (he had "Roman Catholic" on his dog tags for a very long time until earlier this year, when he officially changed them to read, "Pagan"). I have seen people of my faith hide their religion from employers, family and friends - I'm one of those people. There are still many people in my day to day life who don't know about my religion. I have one lady where I work who repeatedly talks about "evil witches" and "black magic" as if she knows what she's discussing, and creates a hostile environment where I am not comfortable disclosing my faith.
It's not that that matters much to me, as my faith is between me and God/dess, just like anyone's religion should be between them and God, however they choose to see God.
But.
This country was founded by people who were escaping religious persecution. The separation of Church and State has always been an integral part of this country's governing forces. It is true that the Founding Fathers had a view of God that was probably a form of Christianity, but that doesn't mean this country was FOUNDED on Christianity.
The current administration's push to include Christian morality in an effort to change the constitution and legislate how people in this country should live their lives, is an abomination to everything this country was founded on.
The Pledge of Allegiance was not originally written with the words, "Under God" in it. The "Under God" was added as an affront to the "godless" Communist nations of Europe during the Cold War, and was accepted becuase the whole country was lining up behind the majority's religion and morals and ethics in an effort to stand together in the face of the "enemy."
T-bone writes that people should not say "under God" if they don't want to, and that's absolutely true. I don't say it. I haven't said it for a number of years. In addition, when I was in a support group that closed each session with the Lord's Prayer, I stood politely with the group holding hands and recited lines that would apply to me spiritually, but when the group said, "for Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever, amen," I politely declined to speak those words and just shut my pie hole.
So, it appears that so far I'm taking his (and other people's) advice. However. Do I want my children to be put in a position to "have to" say the Pledge of Allegiance, if they are expected to include the phrase, "under God?" I'm not Godless, you know. I don't have no religion. I'm not like one of those damned athiests that have no faith. (if you can't see the irony in this statement, you shouldn't even be here reading!) Even Athiests are allowed their opinions on faith - what if my kids are atheists and don't want to do it?
It's very simple. If the Pledge is going to be mandatory at government functions including school, then it should not include the words, "under God."
I had a very long convo with the "evil witches" woman at work the other day. She was talking about how offended she was that the public school her 12 year old attends no longer has a Christmas Pageant - they have a "Holiday Party." And they no longer have an "Easter Pageant," they instead have "Spring Fling" with chocolate bunnies and an egg hunt.
She was genuinely upset and bothered that her child couldn't participate in school-sanctioned celebrations of their religion, complete with nativity (Christmas) or the teachings of Jesus' resurrection (easter). When I pointed out that the other children in the class might not be comfortable having to acknowledge and celebrate a religious festival if they don't subscribe to the religion, she said, "Well we could do Hannukah and Passover, too."
I said, "What about the Hindus, Muslims, Ba'Hai, what about even Jehovah's Witnesses, who choose not to celebrate any of the holidays?" She just looked at me and suggested that since those kids aren't in the majority, they shouldn't complain.
I said, "What if the majority was Muslim? Would you let your child fast and pray at Ramadan?" She answered with a resounding, "NO!"
So what's the difference, exactly?
School is no place for the mixture of church and state, on any level. Period. If one religion is going to be accommodated, then they all have to be accommodated. If you're going to exclude one religion, then you have to exclude them all. If a person's faith preference is to have no faith, that has to be counted the same as any other instance.
The pledge should be changed back to remove "Under God" if it is going to be required in a public school setting. If you feel differently about that, then you should send your child to a private school where they can be exposed to the religious teachings your family's comfortable with.
And money? "In God We Trust" on money? Someone commented, "They don't have any problem using the money that says "In God We Trust!" Of course we don't, because there are no options. "They" can't erase the words, "In God We Trust" off of every dollar and quarter "they" use to buy things.
I will live my life any way I darned well please, but I'm 34 years old and if someone has a problem with me not saying "under God" or singing "God Bless America," at least I can defend myself to them effectively. Children who are taught to follow because they're young and need us to look out for them and lead them, shouldn't be in a position where they are being asked - knowingly or unknowingly - to compromise their religious position at school. If you can't accommodate all of them, then accommodate none of them, and keep religion where it should be - in private institutions, churches, and homes.
This is right, this is fair, and this is how it was originally intended to be. Anyone who thinks that by the Grace of (their) God, they get to have the rest of us follow along with what's comfortable for them because their religion is better than everyone else's or through some misguided sense that this country should be based on what they believe... has some learning and some growing up to do. Have faith. Believe in God. Pray, sing, rejoice, tithe, witness... whatever you think you have to do. But please don't expect the other citizens of this country to voluntarily be subjected to your religion just because you think it's great. Chances are, they have their own faith, on their own terms, and it might not agree with yours.
A person's private relationship with God should be just that. Their relationship with God. It has no place in courts, schools, governmental buildings, or other federally or state-funded institutions.
Voila.
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WISH SOMEBODY WOULD TELL ME I'M FINE
So close, yet so far away.
I've got a weird feeling in my bones today, it's a little queasy, a little sicky, a little something-or-other. Makes me feel like I would want to stay home from work today, but I don't know if that's the right thing to do. You've had this, I'm sure: my arms feel a little twitchy, nothing really smells "good," my head doesn't feel that great either, just a little... well, queasy and sicky feeling.
A bunch of people where I work have been fighting off this upper-respiratory thing that's been going around, and I just hope it's not catching up to me. I had a lot of sniffles this weekend, and kept telling myself I'm not getting sick. There's just a bunch of things that are going on this week that need my attention at work - maybe if I get one or two of them done early today I can go home.
So this weekend was really nice. Went to see Taking Lives and it was freaky creepy. If you can stand a little autopsy gore in your murder mystery movies, I'd highly recommend it. The cast was good, and it kept me guessing until the very end of the movie. And I very literally yelled, screamed, gasped, at one point in the flick. Like, people turned around and looked at me. That's one creepy movie if it can make me do that.
I also went to a yummy greek restaurant with the same friend, and had some great food. Flaming cheese and other delicious Greek specialties. I'd go back there again.
I got to talk to S. a few times this weekend, culminating in the discovery that he's going to owe a couple-few hundred bucks on his taxes. It's okay though, this is just something we get to learn from and make sure it doesn't happen again. At least we've got the money to be able to pay it. It'll be inconvenient, but what else are we to do? Just got to suck it up. At least we have some money in savings so we can go ahead and do that. And at least I should be getting back a refund some time soon.
Yeah, the more I sit here the more I'm convinced - I definitely, definitely am not feeling very good. Queasy. I just have too much to do. I will probably try to come home early.
Well, I have new nails and new hair, courtesy of the fabulous salon up the road. I took about an inch off my hair, at the husband's wishes, since he's never rightly seen it long. So, I will probably try to get it cut shorter at another time after he gets home, but for now I can hope that it's long and feminine and beautiful enough that all he wants to do when he gets home is grab it in his fist, give it a good pull, and bend me over the arm of the couch.
I'm sorry, was that my outside voice?
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Sunday, March 28, 2004
SLOW DOWN, YOU MOVE TOO FAST
I spent a wonderful afternoon out in the gorgeous weather, at the Park And Swap in Phoenix.
I bought:
- Black Peppercorns: $1.50
- Cajun Seasoning: $0.50
- Spring Onions: $1.00
- Chili-Lime Pistachios: $2.50
- Chili-Lime Soynuts: $2.50
- Six wooden spoons: $2.00
- One yummy Mexican Paleta (Strawberry) fruit juice bar: $1.50
- One rose quartz bear fetish, one quartz crystal: $2.00
I think that's it.
And I'd like to say "fuck you" to the IRS because my husband owes on his taxes, and now he's a raging pissed off no fun to talk to anger-phile.
Happy Sunday.
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Friday, March 26, 2004
HALLUCINATION RAIN
I am so tired, I think I'm seeing and hearing things.
Yesterday was one of the most emotionally draining, hard to get through days I've had in quite a while. Between consulting friends and blog-o-peers about my situation with my dad, I also got stood up for yard work AGAIN by the neighbor kid... oh wait, you haven't heard that story.
Wednesday night after I had changed into my jammies and decided I wasn't going to work in the yard because I was tired, the neighbor kid came to the door with a piece of paper in his hand. Now remember, this kid isn't a bad kid. He's just... gifted. Very few social skills, and he's 12 years old, and he's young. So he comes to the front door of my house. On his bicycle. Complete with helmet. And I answer the door and he says, "Um, hi," and he tries to hand me a piece of paper.
"Sorry I didn't come over yesterday to work." I looked at him. He broke eye contact and looked down at his feet. "Uh, and today too."
"Okay Danny, well, what's up?"
"Well," he said, "I have karate some days a week and this is the list if you want to write them down. I can't come work on the days I have karate." He tried to hand me the list.
"I'm not going to write down your karate days, this is how it's going to work. Ready? Last night, I worked by myself out in the yard and got a lot done even though you didn't come over. So, since I was going to pay you the $25 for the whole yard, I don't think that's fair any more since I did a bunch of it. If you want to come over Thursday and Friday to work for an hour or so, I'm fine with that and I can pay you $5 for each day you come work."
He just looked at me.
"How's that," I said matter-of-factly. He just nodded his head and said "Uh, okay." So I said "Okay thanks, Danny. He said, "I can work tomorrow [Thursday] and Friday."
I said, "Good deal. Thanks a lot for stopping by." He left.
So I get home at 6p last night and of course, he's not home. So I change clothes and come out to the front of the house and I see his brother playing ball with someone I can't see, so I'm assuming it's him. I go in the back yard, put the trimmer together, run it for 45 minutes, no neighbor kid. But I did end up with grass in my hair, bruises on my arm, and tired. Then, I came in the house and had typing work to do for the first time in about three months, which was nice. Made a little money. But, since I hadn't heard from S. by the time I was ready for bed, I just went to bed.
He called at about 11:40, on his way home from the bar, and suffice it to say our conversation didn't start out very well.
We again had one of the closest things to a real "fight" that we've had, because he made some comments before thinking and I let my sore heart hang out all over everything.
We were both on the same page by the time I went to sleep, but it was 1am by the time I got off the phone with him. So I went from almost zero sleep to about four hours sleep. It's better than nothing, but I'm still tired and frustrated.
I spend a lot of time pointing the finger at women for doing things that are "woman things." Being emotional, whiney, pouty, stuff like that. So many military wives come aross as completely unable to function without their husbands. I don't want to be like that. Sometimes, though, I can't help it and I get emotional and irrational.
And that's when I want him to realize that I could probably use a phone call and a kind word, instead of waiting six hours or waiting for me to call him.
Last night was one of those nights, when I could have just been happy as a clam to curl up in the bed with him on the phone at about 9pm and just talk and talk and talk. Instead, I kind of got the drunken remnants at midnight, and it gave us some things to work through.
Hopefully we'll be able to pick up that convo when I"m not hallucinating tired and he's not jabbering tipsy, and continue to get it all worked out. In the meantime, we both continue to be out of our elements and having a rough time communicating how we feel, because it's so amazingly different from how we normally... well... FEEL.
So close, yet so far. It's amazing.
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Thursday, March 25, 2004
HE'S BEEN KNOCKIN', HE WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE
How the hell do I get myself into this?
Last night, my dad phoned me from Mexico. He had an article in the local Gringo paper that talked about a Mexican company I used to work for, and he thought I should hear about it. Turns out, that's just a ploy to get me on the phone and tell me some secrets that I am not supposed to share with my family.
Since they don't read this blog, I will talk about them here.
My dad's 65 years old and in the process of getting ready to retire in Mexico. So he starts telling me about this woman that he met there in Mexico who he's getting to know, and I'm thinking that's cool, and he tells me about her, and she sounds very nice.
So then I ask about his current girlfriend, and he tells me he's going to be breaking up with her. Okay.
Then we talk for a while longer, and he suddenly says, "Don't tell your sister what I'm about to tell you."
Well, fuck me raw. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Okay," I say. He proceeds to tell me about the girl he REALLY likes.
She works hard, real smart, makes him feel young, he's lost 30 pounds since he's started getting to know her better, she spent some time with him in Mexico, blah, blah, blah. she's 24 years old and has three small children, and hasn't gotten divorced yet, blah, blah, blah. She's so cute, just magnetic, got to know her through work, everyone who meets her just adores her, we'd really like her if we got to know her, blah, blah, blah.
RE WIND THE FU CKING TAPE Excuse me? She's ten years younger than me and has three small children and isn't divorced... yet?
What?
Then he chooses to tell me, that my sister has her panties in a wad over the whole thing, and that's why he doesn't want me to talk to her about it until he has things more figured out.
It turns out he's known this girl for a long time. Years. And she treats him good. And she seems to genuinely like him. And he appreciates a lot of the things about her that are like him - work ethic - things like that. She's the kind of person, at least professionally, that he'd be proud to be seen with, despite the age difference of about forty years.
And he thinks he could marry her.
You see, my dad is not "in favor of that damn shacking up that you kids do." So, he would try to make an honest woman out of her if he were going to live with her. And he'd support her, and her children, while they lived together in Mexico.
So my dad starts asking me if it's okay with me, you know, if he starts thinking about that, and I keep just saying that it'd probably be fine, that I just want him to be happy... my dad isn't in the best of health and anyone who can bring out the better in him is probably okay in my book.
And that's when he points out that my sister is probably concerned about this development because it could theoretically cut into our inheritance. So he tells me that it would all be fine, because he's got the sense to have a prenuptual agreement, and she'd be fine with that, she's not interested in his money, but if she gave him ten or twelve years of happiness in his life, he'd probably split it with her, and give her a third, me a third, and my sister a third.
And now, I finally understand what puts people's knickers in a twist when the older man marries the younger woman and has a bunch of money and the younger woman fights for everything she can get.
I agree that if she gives up her career to go to Mexico and take care of my dad, who will possibly be ailing in years to come, then if he wants to take care of her for the future since she took care of him then that's probably the right thing to do - at least pay her back for the years she put in to living with, sharing a life with, my dad.
I just begged my dad to not let himself get taken advantage of. I don't know. A third is kind of a lot. A third of the inheritance for 1/8 of his life, if there's 12 more years or something. I don't know.
If you compare a girlfriend or wife living a comfortable and fun life retired in Mexico with my dad, who's financially capable of giving her everything she ever wanted or needed, for twelve years and not having to work, and compare that to me - who at that time would be 46 years old - and everything I went through in my life for my dad, I'd have to say I think a third might be a little generous.
I know it sounds like it's all about the money and it's really not. A third of what my dad has would still be like winning the lottery. But it becomes a matter of whether or not individuals are deserving of it. My dad worked hard his whole life to have what he does.
I just... I just want him to be happy. That's it. I want my dad to be happy, and if this girl truly makes him happy and she's not out for his money, then that's great, and if he's willing to help her raise her kids (oldest is 7 years old) and support her and stuff, then that's what he wants to do and I don't have much choice but to be supportive. Right? I mean, he's not much into listening to what we think, and he's going to do what he wants to do. He's a grown man.
I suppose I need to meet her.
Oh, which by the way, might happen in June when he brings her to Las Vegas on the "family gets to know S. trip" which is doubling as a honeymoon, and at which S.'s whole family will be.
"Hi, S.'s mom, hi, S.'s dad, this is my dad and his 24 year old girlfriend."
sigh
Somebody help me be okay with this. I'm begging.
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Wednesday, March 24, 2004
CLOSE MY EYES, LET THE WHOLE THING PASS ME BY
Well. Last night sucked ass.
I got home and changed clothes and figured the neighbor kid would wander on over to work on my yard. As he didn't, I started working on it myself and worked for about an hour... until the trimmer threatened to catch on FIRE and I couldn't work any more.
Neighbor kid never came by. When I went outside to get in the truck and drive to Home Depot to buy a new trimmer ($80) I saw him outside in the front yard playing with his brother. Someone's not making their $25.
I mowed the grass as best as I could under the circumstances and bought a new trimmer, which I will have to put together tonight and work on getting it to function so I can trim the rest of the yard. Bah.
Then I went to PetsMart and bought some cat food. Interesting, eh? Are you on the edge of your seat?
It was Nutro. Back off.
When I got home, the first thing I did was pour myself a cocktail, because last night was starting to suck ass. So I had a small individual pizza for dinner with a cocktail (or two or three) and sat in front of the computer farting around. I even had to start the smackdown on some egotistical bitch on a message board I've started going to... get this:
So this chick obviously has some issues with needing attention and wanting to be an edgy non-conformist, so she has an "avatar" on this forum that's a big, animated, engogring cock. With feet.
Cock with legs, please, table two.
So, I can't surf over there even just to read for a minute or two during the day, if there's a fucking animated COCK there uh... rearing its ugly head. So, since her avatar is NSFW (that's Not Safe For Work), I asked her if she could change it.
In return, she suggested she was being 'sensored' [sic] and called me a bitch, and said if they "made her" change her avatar she was going to take her ball and go home.
At first, I decided I'm too old for that crap and I don't need the power struggle... but then after another cocktail, I decided she was a self-centered assbag. And, I told her so, too. I have since seen pictures of her on her own website, and have decided she's trying way too hard to be cool... bad tats on each arm of her pets (dog on one, cat on the other), short chopped bad-dye-job too-blonde hair, funky looking over-plucked eyebrows, and leather or vinyl ass pants. I think she should pierce her lips together so she can be even more alternative. Plus, if they're pierced closed, maybe she'll shut the fuck up.
Wow. I guess the Bitch Train rolled into town. All aboard!
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Tuesday, March 23, 2004
DONE, DONE, AND I'M ON TO THE NEXT ONE
Last night, I had the chance to spend some time with a good friend of mine who's going through a rough time. Besides the fact that the evening involved beer and sushi, which would normally a fantastic evening make, we had a lot of fun. It was her first time out with sushi, and they brought her the little doohickey to help her use her chopsticks, and everything. She really enjoyed it, and I think she feels a little better.
It was the Night of Consoling Friends in the Rose household yesterday, because my amazing gay fabulous hairdresser phoned me at about 7pm. It seems MUWITW called yesterday and canceled a hair appointment, and he wanted to ask me if she'd liked her hair.
Excuse me? Canceled an appointment? So, I asked for some clarification.
Apparently, MUWITW is so much of a pussy that she sat in the salon chair, let him do her hair, told him that she LOVED the color and that she ADORED the style, how amazing and wonderful it was and how excited she was about it, then MADE ANOTHER APPOINTMENT. Then, apparently, she left the salon, pissed off, and proceeded to tell half the world how much she hated her hair and how he mistreated her, did nothing she wanted, and ignored her every wish.
Fuckwit.
So, today I have half a mind to have a talk with her, because I'm fucking over it. Wayne is my FRIEND. And the fact that I am in the middle is one thing, but the fact that she sat in that chair when he could have done anything to make it right for her, and instead waited until she left to say she hated it, is a fucked up mess. I'm trying to figure out what to do, now, and anyone who has any ideas please comment and let me know. Because this fucking sucks. I explained to Wayne that she's unhappy about each and every thing in her life and that it's no personal reflection on him, she's just a fucking nutball.
God damnit.
So, now that it's just after 6am and I've completely pissed myself off, let's talk about PORN!
You know you haven't had sex in months when you stretch out to watch a little porn and keep fast forwarding the scenes. Seen it. Seen that. Watched that. Seen that. Oh! Have I - oh. yeah. seen that. Seen it. Seen it.
That's been me the last few days. I've seen every scene in every porno we have in the house, plus a bunch of them downloaded from the internet. I have seen them all two or three times.
Seen it.
In addition, the pink toy won't keep up with me any more, the realistic penis-shaped surrogate has lost its luster, and the trusty old blue bullet is going through batteries like nobody's business. I wonder if it has a short.
But none of that matters, if the porn isn't making me excited. I feel like I'm watching syndicated reruns of Seinfeld. You know, where you watch the first two or three minutes and you think maybe you haven't seen it, so you get all excited, but then Kramer walks in and you think, "Oh yeah, I've seen this one before." It's still good, you still enjoy it, but it's nothing like the first time.
Suddenly, I am starting to feel that way about porn. Frankly, I'd rather have a nice dream (even if non-sexual) about my husband where I feel like I can interact with him a little or hold his hand or enjoy a meal or SOMETHING together. But, that's not happening either.
So, that's what it's come to. Porn reruns. Oh well, maybe in 34 days I'll get lucky.
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Monday, March 22, 2004
IF I COULD TALK WITH THE ANIMALS
Okay. Whoa.
To the guy who googled, I Caught My Wife Letting My Dog Fuck Her, and who found this site, what the hell were you thinking? Sorry about your dog, dude.
To the people who keep googling Googly Sex, Googly Boobs, and Googly Fucking, what the hell is googly sex, googly boobs, and googly fucking?
And what’s the sudden resurgence with the Size of Kobe Bryant’s Penis? Three of those in two days. Poor Kobe. So many guys wanna ogle your package.
And to the person looking for Heroes of Moogly, I don’t know what that is, but I’ll be your Moogly Hero anytime you want.
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Sorry to interrupt you all with this, but I have to complain about the Most Unhappy Woman In The World, who works in the office with me.
MUWITW is on my “team” in our office, and she’s recently divorced and hates everyone. She’s also the lady who told the racist joke that I wrote about back in August or September.
MUWITW was very excited last week some time, when she told me that the wonderful, caring, completely fabulous effeminate gay man who cuts my hair was going to give her a new hairdo. She said things like, “I’m just going to let him do whatever he thinks would look good!” and “He says he’s going to darken it a little, I always love it when you darken your hair!” and “I can’t wait to see what great thing he does to my hair!”
So this morning, a work friend and I were riding up in the elevator talking about her hair and how excited we were to see the “new her,” hoping that maybe having some new hair will give MUWITH a new outlook on life.
We could not be prepared for what happened.
Here was MUWITW, with new short hair – and her bangs styled down and frumpy like always, and her hair curled under at the shoulders frumpy like always, and the big lifted-up back-teased mountain of hair towards the back of her head that she always had. We just kind of looked at each other and in an effort to be supportive I said…
“Hey! Cute new hair!”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Because, MUWITH decided she was going to tell me that wonderful hair man “GRABBED her HAIR behind her HEAD in his FIST and WHACKED it ALL OFF in ONE BIG HUNK.” You would have thought he used a chainsaw to hear her describe it.
I am positive this did not happen. I am also positive that Gay-Fabulous Wayne did not let her leave the salon looking like a frumpy football player. I can see this hairstyle with flips and dips and wispy bangs. I can see it being very cute and vogue and chic and adorable. She did her best to ruin it this morning by trying to make her frumpy-ass self look like her frumpy-ass self.
So, now she’s doing nothing but bitch and complain about her “Brown football helmet” and how she fucking hates it, and she keeps saying things to me like, “I’m sorry if you think he’s fabulous, but I am NEVER going to GO to him AGAIN and I WON’T recommend him TO ANYONE.”
I finally said, “Do whatever you want. It’s your hair. It grows back.”
Fucking amazing. Someone just needs to put her out of her misery, because if they don’t, I’m going to jam my foot straight up her ass.
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Another week, another dollar. Isn't that how it works?
Me and my too-straight-forward set of scruples, I am going to work today. I was up half the night tossing and turning for one reason or another, and I could really just stand to stay home today and sleep some more. But, since I am not coughing up a lung or puking up my guts, instead I will go in to work and do the right thing. I don't feel "Bad," I just feel "tired." I don't think I slept for a full hour at a time all night without waking up for one thing or another.
The cats fought all night, too, which didn't help matters.
You know how it is - the night dragged on and I tossed and turned - too hot - too cold - one side of the pillow, then the other - kick off the blankets - sit up to find the blankets - too much noise - not enough noise - can't get comfortable... then finally at about 4am, I started to be comfortable, slept for what felt like five minutes, and the alarm went off to tell me to wake up.
I freakin' hate nights like that. I've had more than my share of them since S. left for Biloxi, and they're starting to take their toll.
We're nearing the home stretch now, at least. 35 more days. It's really about 30 days until the last day of his class, but we're counting until the 26th of April because he needs time to drive home and stop over and see his family in San Antonio on the way back. But every day that goes by puts us one day closer to when he comes home.
There's some nights that we sit on the internet together chatting, or on the phone together talking, and all we can talk about is when he comes home and how nice it will be to have him here back at the house.
If he could see the floor of the office room to see 3 days worth of my laundry, or if he could see the dirty bathroom sink, or if he could see three-day-old dishes in the kitchen sink, he might not be in such a hurry to come home. I need to get back to keeping a good clean house. Now that we're down to about a month, I should be able to get on top of it and keep it clean til he gets here (and then of course, afterwards).
So it's been outrageously damn hot here. It's been about 20 degrees above normal every day for about two weeks. I can't believe it. It's 6:00 a.m. and my evaporative cooler just kicked on - at 6:00 a.m. It's amazing. Normally I'm leaving windows open and enjoying the coolness of the evenings this time of year. Over this week, it's supposed to cool down back to "normal" for a couple or a few weeks, and I can't wait. I got so sunburned at the garage sale this weekend, I'm going to have to keep a tally of how many people at work today ask me, "Hey, got some sun this weekend?"
Just tired. Tired and cranky. Anybody want to tuck me into bed?
Oh, p.s.: On the right hand side, it appears someone has a sense of humor. The icon for MSN messenger under my "am I online" section, is now showing a steaming pile of turds. That's not me, doing that, just so you know. Someone else. So if you want to reach me on MSN, check the steaming pile of crap.
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Sunday, March 21, 2004
SOCK IT TO ME, SOCK IT TO ME
Well, the garage sale was pretty much a success. Except for the fact that I was reminded that there are disgusting dishonest fuckwits in the world.
At 6am we were unloading the garage onto the many folding tables and getting ready for what we hoped would be a good, fruitful day. Just before 7am we were driving up the street to put out the garage sale signs. As we got out of the truck to put one of the signs out, two Senior Citizen Fuckwits drove up in their Ford Explorer, and were going SO FAST they (a) almost ran us over, and (b) barely stopped.
Mrs. Fuckwit hung her head out the door and shouted, "WHERE IS YOUR SALE GOING TO BE?!"
Now, I've had my share of garage sales and I have NEVER had anyone do this to me. So, my partner-in-crime, neighbor, said, "If you drive up the block and come back in about five minutes, you can follow the signs." (We had all our stuff sitting out there, on the tables, since we were only just around the corner from the house.
Well, Mr. Fuckwit stomped on the gas and LAUNCHED the Ford down the street They went careening around the corner and turned left at the next street, but they must have turned around in the driveway and came back because when we were back on my block putting out another sign they came speeding past us. This is a quiet residential neighborhood with lots of young kids, and the Fuckwits were driving their little SUV as fast as it would go. I heard their tires start to screech as they found our street and hung a left.
"Shit," said the neighbor, "They found us already. We need to go back to the house. Don't you dare give them a bit of wiggle room on ANYTHING."
We drove back to the house only to find Mr. and Mrs. Fuckwit, along with TWO OTHER CARS who had followed them in, rummaging through our crap. I went in the house to get my fanny pack with change, and I was in the house like 20 seconds when someone was POUNDING on the front door.
I opened the door, and it was Mrs. Fuckwit.
She had a brass lamp that was originally part of my bedroom set and was probably 10 years old, and a model of a motorcycle that belonged to my husband.
"How much for these two things," she said to me, gruffly.
"I'll be out in a minute," I said.
"But HOW MUCH for THESE TWO THINGS?!" Sorry, Mrs. Fuckwit, you just pissed me off.
"Five dollars for the lamp and seven dollars for the motorcycle."
She just stared at me. "Really?" she asked. "Yup," I said. "Huh," she said. And just kind of walked away. She carried around the damn lamp and motorcycle for another 5 minutes, trying to figure out what was so great about them that I wanted $5 and $7 at a garage sale. She would have bought them, too, but precious time was ticking away and I wasn't willing to come down on the price even one penny for her snappy ass.
They left. Without buying anything. I secretly, and not-so-secretly, hoped all the good antique shit was gone from all the other big sales since they wasted their time with me.
Then, there was the punk kids who stole an entire plastic CD case, with about 50 CD's in it, of old Windows 95 and 98 software. You know, stuff like "10 casino games!" and "40 games for $10!" That kind of crap. I was selling them for $1 each and was getting a good amount of money out of them for that price. Fuckers got out of their lifted 4x4 truck and there were four of them - they went four directions, each to different tables. I looked at one of the kids as he flipped through the cd case. Another one asked me about something at a different table and when I turned back around, the CD case was gone. I also had a Chicago Cutlery fillet knife stolen, and my neighbor had a cordless phone stolen.
What fucking kind of fucking asshats have to steal from a GARAGE SALE?! I mean, seriously, man. Fucking punk kids and kleptomaniac shitheads.
Yes, I'm upset about getting ripped off. Wouldn't you be?
So in other news, I had a dream.
I dreamed that S. and I were sitting somewhere at a bar, like a diner counter or a sushi bar or something, and we were eating. I had a coat on, and was feeling warm.
S.: Why don't you take off that coat, baby?
Me: Yeah, I probably should.
S.: Don't you move. Sit right there.
He got up from his seat and helped me off with my coat, folding it over his arm and finding a place to put it on the seat next to him. He then took a minute and rubbed my shoulders a little bit, and kissed me on the back of my neck. When he sat back down in his own seat, he draped his arm over me and ...
then the dogs had to go outside.
Fuck.
So, I let the dogs out and surveyed the weather, and went to lay back down in bed. I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable. It felt so nice to "feel" his breath on my neck, to hear his voice, to feel him touching me, all I wanted to do was get back to my dream. I just wanted to dream some more so he could be there with me.
I ended up staying in bed until 3:00 p.m., with some minor breaks here and there, trying to catnap or full-fledged sleep my way back into happy dreamland so I could finish my date with my husband.
I couldn't get the dream back.
That's all I wanted today. Just another few minutes of dream.
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Friday, March 19, 2004
HAS TROUBLE ACTING NORMAL WHEN SHE'S NERVOUS
I'm home, bored, and online. Someone page me, would you?
Icons on the right hand side.
Do it.
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S. passed his exam today with a 93. I'm very proud.
I love you, baby.
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And now, the jiggy phallic fruit.
I, for one, welcome our new tiny yellow fruity dancing overlords.
Shut up.
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Take a deep, deep breath. Smell that? No? Try again - in through the nose, out through the mouth. Sure you don't smell it? Maybe you do, but you can't quite put your finger on it.
That, my friends, is the aroma of moldy, MOLDY ASS.
Step right up! Read the rantings of an idiot and smell the moldy ass! It's asstastic!
Welcome to Friday.
So, I get home last night and open the mailbox, hoping to see a little token from my darlin dear, when instead I have a letter from SRP. SRP, for non-Arizonans, is one of the utilities here, and it happens to be the one that provides electricity to our house.
I can tell from looking at the letter, that this is not your mama's direct mail marketing. This is a plain window envelope with a plain white letter inside, in plain, all-caps, boring typewriter text.
And that's when I thought, "Well shit, now what."
DEAR CUSTOMER:
YOU CAN LOSE THE CONVENIENCE OF PAYING YOUR ELECTRIC BILL BY CHECK.
I stood there for a moment while I stared at the letter, which was both mocking me and yelling at me in its bold typewriter font. Dear "Customer?" Not even, "Dear Ms. Ravyn," or "Dear Ms. Maiden Name," or "Hey, Dorkus." Oh no, I have received a "Dear Customer" letter, and it's about ending my convenience.
OUR RECORDS SHOW ONE CHECK HAS BEEN RETURNED TO THE BANK. IF A SECOND CHECK IS RETURNED, YOUR ACCOUNT WILL BE CLASSIFIED AS CASH ONLY, AND ONLY CASH, MONEY ORDER, OR A CASHIER'S CHECK WILL BE ACCEPTED TO PAY YOUR BILL FOR A FULL TWELVE-MONTH PERIOD. AT THAT TIME, A NEW OR ADDITIONAL DEPOSIT MAY BE BILLED TO YOUR ACCOUNT.
Well, fuck me raw.
IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS REGARDING YOUR ACCOUNT, PLEASE CALL OUR CUSTOMER INFORMATION CENTER...
I ran to the phone and started dialing. Bounced a check? How is that possible? I don't even PAY them with a check! I do electronic debits through the automated telephone system. So I get the kind customer service rep on the phone...
Her: "Well, ma'am, it says here that you tried to make a payment over the internet, is that correct?"
Aha! I then remember that as I was on the phone dealing with them over something or other, the friendly, helpful customer service representative suggested that I should try to make my payment over the website, since it is "fast, convenient, and free." Bastard.
Her: "It appears that internet check was returned to us because there is no such account number. Is it possible there was a number transposed? Why don't you give me your account number, and let me compare it to what I have here."
Yes! That's what it had to be! Mild internet bill paying dyslexia, not a returned... internet check? What the hell is an internet check?
After a little more investigation, we learn that yes, I did it. I did it, I did it, I did it. I dropped the last number on the bank account. So instead of XXXX XXXX XXX96, I only gave them XXX9.
What the hell is an internet check?
Oh, and by the way, that payment is still past due. But the letter says nothing about a past due balance, and now I have a late fee. So, now I have the payment to make.
Me: "So, that was my mistake, golly gee I'm real sorry about that, since it was an honest mistake can we just get rid of this ding on my credit with SRP please, and I'll take care of that payment right now?"
Her: "I'm going to have to transfer you to a supervisor."
Fuck.
What the hell is an internet check?
So, here's the final scoop, to make an even longer story short.
SRP doesn't do electronic debits. Oh no, no way. What do they do? They take the information you give them and they actually - on paper - PRINT OUT A CHECK and send it, via postal mail, to the bank.
And that, my friends, is a GODDAMN INTERNET CHECK.
So, that invalidated any of my arguments.
I said, "The website gave me a confirmation number." He said, "The confirmation is just to show that you had been in the system and had attempted the payment at a certain time."
I said, "If you have my address, phone number, email address, work phone number, and you provide the electricity to my house, why did it take two and a half weeks to get ahold of me, and why doesn't my brand new bill - which I just got in the mail - say anything about a past due balance? I could have cleared this up a while ago." He said, "It takes us that long to process a returned check, ma'am, since your bank will hold it for a certain period of time trying to resolve the issue before it's mailed back to us. Then the accounting staff has to process it and handle it as a returned check."
The more I griped and argued at the complete lack of logic about this entire process, the more frustrated I got. So, here's the solution. Now keep in mind, this is a huge utility company.
- The supervisor will be in at 10:30 today and will take the "ding" off my record with SRP, since I did not technically bounce a check. I should be careful to note, however, that this is a one-time courtesy, and if I ever decide I want to add a little thrill to my life by transposing numbers on an internet check again, there won't be anything he can do about it.
- He will then call the accounting department, which was closed at 6:00 p.m. when I phoned yesterday, and tell them to take my account off administrative hold, and remove the incorrect checking account number from my record. Because, you can't make a payment by telephone if there is more than one checking account listed on your record. It might take them 3/4 of the day to get that done, though, so I should wait until after 4pm to...
- Phone SRP and make the past-due payment by telephone, being careful not to transpose any numbers and being certain that everything is in order before submitting the payment. Then, I need to...
- Call the supervisor back after the payment is made and I have a confirmation number, to let him know I've done it, so he can put my account in the queue and...
- Monday since our account will be off administrative hold, if the payment posts to the account he can check everything over and assure me that it's all up to date and ready to switch to the "managed payment plan" (a plan helpful in Arizona, which makes your payment the same amount every month... so it doesn't skyrocket in the summertime)... and then all I have to do is...
- Pay a $21 fee for a returned check.
Fuckers.
So I phoned S. and had to tell him that I screwed up by transposing a number on the internet payment (which I am NEVER GOING TO DO AGAIN THROUGH SRP BECAUSE THE IDEA THAT THEY PRINT OUT AN ACTUAL PAPER CHECK RATHER THAN JUST DEBITING THE ACCOUNT AT THE TIME OF PAYMENT IS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY INSANE [/need less caffeine] and bless his heart, he did nothing but bitch and moan about SRP and how stupid their policy was, instead of gripe about what a dumbass his wife was.
Internet check.
Good lord, it's 2004.
It's an internet check. It's asstastic!
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Thursday, March 18, 2004
HANGING BY A MOMENT
Why is this here?
Because dancing bananas are funny. Shut up.
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Okay. First of all, I'd like to do something I haven't done in a long time and "welcome" some new readers. See, my Google searches haven't been that cool lately, as I've been blessed with a lot of people coming to me through blog referrals and through bookmarks, which is even cooler than google searches because it means you KNOW in advance that you're getting a blog.
But to the guy, or guys, or girls, or whomever you are - same IP's all the time - who come here searching for Googly+Sex or Googly+Boobs, perhaps you just want to bookmark the site instead of having to search for some Googly Sex every time you need a Googly Moogly Fix. Just saying.
Then there's the person who found me by searching for, "Pagan AND Republican," which was probably true last year but isn't so true this morning. Heh.
I had a couple of bright green apple martinis and probably one of the best talks I've ever had with S., last night. He really opened up and shared some things with me, at a time when I really needed him to step up to the plate and hit one out of the park. See, I've been feeling pretty much fat and yucky lately, and things are getting so out of hand around here that it's rough for me to keep up and feel good about myself. The weeds in the back yard - some of them are waist high, and when I get home from work it's hard for me to get out there with the mower and get 'em down. Our back yard is HUGE. I'm actually figuring this weekend I'll do that, but we'll have to see. And the garage sale is coming up this Saturday, and my neighbor has told me she's got tons and tons and tons of stuff. The thing is, I have a lot of stuff too, I just don't have it in any particular order right this second so it's rough.
As it is I told her I'd sell the couch in my garage for $30 and I think that's low, but it was for a family without a lot of money and if worse came to worse I'd end up donating it to Goodwill or something for freakin' free. I just have to get rid of some stuff. I hate going into a garage sale with a "bottom dollar" mentality, but sometimes that's the way it is.
So anyway, I was kind of hard on myself and down on myself last night, and S. stepped up to the plate and I actually felt like I had my husband here with me. About the only thing that could have gone any better about our talk, was if we walked across the hallway together and went to bed in the same bed. I felt that good about things when we finally got off the line. He made me not only feel loved, but made me feel needed and admired, and we really talked about a lot of heavy duty emotional issues that have been weighing hard on me.
And I feel better.
Yay, me. Some days this military wife thing actually doesn't suck rocks.
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Wednesday, March 17, 2004
YE SHAN'T BE GETTIN' ME GOLD, DARBY O'GILL
Happy St. Patrick's Day, all who choose to celebrate.
I might feel a little better today if I could stop by the bar and have a green beer at 6:30 a.m. Hey! I'm not a boozehound, but the radio guy is there! Give a girl a break! It's supposed to be some kind of miraculous drinking holiday, isn't it? Then let's commence with the drinking.
Something about me: I have an issue with crowds. So fortunately or unfortunately, that makes it difficult for me to partake in the festivities on days like this. Not only do I get worried that every asshat who never drinks, goes out for a green beer or fourteen and then decides he's going to drive himself home (bad asshat, BAD asshat!) but there's all kinds of people bumping up against you and touching you and clocking you with elbows and pressing against you with butt cheeks, and for me - inevitably - getting right in the way of my massive gazongas and getting smacked around by my rack.
So, I normally choose to stay home on days like that - July4, St. Patty's, New Years, et al.
I've been invited to go see a couple bands play tonight, but I think I'm just going to come home. Well, I'll go to the grocery store, replace the brand new bottle of vodka that broke on the floor last night when I got home from work, and make myself a sour-apple-tini. Those are green! Anyone else avoiding the crowds on the hot and happnin Irish Pub scene tonight should feel free to IM me.
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Holy crap. I mean, holy crappity crappity amazingly crappy crap. I am SO amazingly tired this morning - and NOT because of me, mind you.
Because of my cats.
i love my cats i love my cats i love my cats i love my cats
Noki continues to beat the living crap out of Murphy. While this scenario does not surprise me - because, of course Murphy's Law and I are becoming intimately involved in the absence of my husband (for another freaking 40 days, I only have to make it 40 more days, only 40 more days) - I am still quite confused because:
- She is two.
- He is twelve.
- She weighs 8 pounds.
- He weighs 13 pounds.
- She has no fighting experience.
- He's been in a few cat fights in his day.
- This isn't "her" house.
- HE has lived here ever since I have lived here.
- She is female.
- He is male.
So, let me get this straight. Just because I am alone, and cannot effectively manage the fucking cat fight phenomenon by myself, EVERY RULE OF THE STANDARD PECKING ORDER WILL BE PUSHED ASIDE. No, the big, male cat, who is older, has more seniority, whose smell is all over the goddamn house, and who can effectively claim ownership of the only human in the house, he's not the one who gets to be at the top of the heap. The freaking newcomer prissy little girl cat with NOTHING better to do than laze around and sleep half of the day, gets to spend the other half of the day eating first, patrolling 3/4 of the house and claiming it as her own, and physically abusing the larger, more senior, cat.
That's fucked up, yo.
So last night I wander into our bedroom, which is kind of a mess anyway, and I notice that I can hear Murphy moving around but I can't seem to find him. Noki is in the bedroom and is stalking towards the far back corner of the room, which has a clothes hamper in it and JUST enough room for Murphy to climb behind the hamper, supposedly to hide. I suddenly hear him scratching on the carpet with his paws, and I have a flashback to the CAT POOP ON MY PILLOW incident. I scream.
"Murphy! Noki! NoooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooooo!"
Too late.
Noki goes flying out of the bedroom, followed by Murphy. They proceed to have a screaming cat fight in the hallway, probably because Noki stopped in the hallway knowing he'd be running right behind her, and cornered him between the office and bathroom. So, now I am standing in the bedroom, making my way towards what will inevitably be a mess, and hearing the cat fight. I choose the mess.
And of course.
Right on top of my lovely satin pajamas, cat piss.
CAT PISS!
On the floor behind the hamper in the six inches of available hiding space, probably in an effort to claim it as his own, Murphy pissed on my satin pajamas. If anyone besides me had heard the stream of profane artwork streaming from my dirty, filthy, nasty mouth, they would have tried to wash it out with a bar of soap, a gallon of laundry detergent, some bleach, and a swimming pool chlorine tablet.
So at 11:00 p.m., I was taking my pee-soaked pajamas to the laundry room and starting a load of laundry, spraying the floor behind the hamper with enzyme spray (a pet owner's dream product), spraying the whole area with "boundary" and "no-go" (thank goodness I had those around), and trying to figure out what I was going to do with those two cats.
About 12:30am, I was jolted awake by Murphy jumping up on the bed. I was still so pissed off I kicked my legs and thrashed around under the covers like a six-year-old having a tantrum, until he got the hint and went away again. This happened about two more times during the night, since I was sleeping on S.'s side of the bed and that's the closest side of the bed to the door, so that's where he was jumping on the bed. Awake. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. Awake. FUCK FUCK FUCK Asleep.
Then, at 5:00 a.m., I was harshly brought back to consciousness because Noki had stalked Murphy into the bedroom, where he proceeded to climb to the top of the pier wall above the bed, rattle around, knock over some of my glass bottle collection, and then LAUNCH himself OFF the PIER WALL and... wait for it... wait for it...
... onto my stomach.
Ever had a 13 pound cat land on your stomach while you're sleeping? How about from about five and a half feet above where your sleeping stomach lies?
Yeah. Someone better break out the soap. The profanity's so thick in this house this morning, you could take a fork and knife and eat it for breakfast.
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Tuesday, March 16, 2004
HEY, MEGALOMANIAC, YOU'RE NO FUCKIN ELVIS
Okay. So get this.
Mr. Mango himself has been up to no good today. So much "no good," in fact, that Shanna gave him his OWN WEB PAGE.
In the last 24 hours he has chatted with:
1) Me (below)
2) Me (part 2)
3) Me (part 3)
4) My husband (part 4)
5) and another blogger.
I understand he's also gotten an email or two from you guys. Thank you.
After threatening to SUE ME (yeah right) and to "out me" to my husband (kept trying to say that I've been having nastychat with him for many months and that he'd tell S. about the "real me") he took his picture off his profile. And yet, he digs himself deeper and deeper.
He's a real winner. I know how to pick 'em!
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AND THE LEMON FLOWER IS SWEET
BUT THE FRUIT OF THE POOR LEMON
IS IMPOSSIBLE TO EAT
Oh. My god. Okay. So, I got the greatest poon troll, possibly ever, yesterday. I’ve hardly been able to keep my pants on with excitement over posting it. Shanna beat me to it in terms of getting it up on the Halls of Stupid (Internet Horndog Transcripts) page, but I couldn’t let this one go. Everyone should see this. I’ve linked his profile, which includes a picture. Everyone should check this out, maybe buzz him or email him and let him know you’re looking for a good time. He’s ready to play, y’all! King Playa!
I know this looks long, but it is SO WORTH IT. Please. Read and enjoy. I give you this gift, the gift of laughter.
goodheartedmale2003: hiiiiiiiii
goodheartedmale2003: wow is that u
(ed. note: When they start off with spectacular grammar, it's usually a good sign. Makes me swoon.)
sablerose70: Yes, it is.
goodheartedmale2003: wow
goodheartedmale2003: ure damn hot
sablerose70: Thanks.
goodheartedmale2003: r u married
sablerose70: Did you read my profile?
(ed. note: you know, where it says three times I’m married?)
goodheartedmale2003: yes
goodheartedmale2003: sort off
goodheartedmale2003: y
sablerose70: All of my personal information can be found in my profile.
sablerose70: That's kind of why I filled it in, so you wouldn't have to ask
me lots of questions about that stuff.
goodheartedmale2003: r u a racist
sablerose70: Why in the world would you ask a question like that? No, I am
not a racist.
goodheartedmale2003: ok was jus askin
goodheartedmale2003: u dont seem interested
(ed. note: because of course, if I weren’t interested in this guy, it would have to be that he listed his name as “Mohammed” and he has a photo in which he is obviously from the Middle East, at least ethnically. I would have to be a FREAKING RACIST to not be interested in THIS winning package.)
goodheartedmale2003: have u seen my prof
sablerose70: Interested in what? I don't seem interested in what? And yes,
I read your profile.
sablerose70: Hello?
sablerose70: Did you finally read my profile and find out that I'm married?
goodheartedmale2003: in me
sablerose70: Interested in what?
sablerose70: Why would I be interested in you, if I am married?
goodheartedmale2003: ok jus for a lil on the side
(ed. note: AND THEY’RE OFF!)
sablerose70: A "little on the side?" Where do you live?
goodheartedmale2003: uk
goodheartedmale2003: and u
sablerose70: It's in my profile. Have you read that, yet? Maybe you should
click on "view profile" and read the words that I typed there before we
continue this. It bores me to have to answer those questions.
sablerose70: So you live in the UK, and you don't know where I live, and you
want a sexual relationship on the side. Am I getting this right?
goodheartedmale2003: yes
goodheartedmale2003: ure only a flight away from me
sablerose70: And I suppose you'd pay for the ticket?
goodheartedmale2003: offcourse
goodheartedmale2003: i woul
sablerose70: You'd buy me an airline ticket from Arizona, USA to the UK (I'm
assuming London), for a little sex on the side.
goodheartedmale2003: offcourse not sex neccesarilly
goodheartedmale2003: jus funn
sablerose70: You'd fly me to London for a date.
goodheartedmale2003: offcourse
goodheartedmale2003: y not
(ed note: At this point, I am so giddy with the idea that this guy is serious, I couldn’t even believe it. I just didn’t know what to type. I mean, there's poon trolling, and then there's POON TROLLING!)
goodheartedmale2003: r u there
goodheartedmale2003: wud u cummm
sablerose70: Would I "cum", as in, will I let you fly me to London?
sablerose70: Hello?
goodheartedmale2003: yes
goodheartedmale2003: will u let me fly u to london
sablerose70: I should ask my husband, first.
sablerose70: I don't think he'll let me go - he doesn't like the idea of me
dating other men.
goodheartedmale2003: well thewn jus dont tell hin duh
(ed. note: we’ve got a live one…)
sablerose70: Where should I tell him I'm going, if I'm going to the airport
to get on a plane for days and not coming home?
sablerose70: He might notice that I'm not at home.
sablerose70: What should I tell him? How can I make sure he doesn't notice
I'm gone?
goodheartedmale2003: well shud i cum there then
sablerose70: Okay. What should I tell my husband when we're going out on
our date? How long do you plan to stay?
goodheartedmale2003: well u can jus cumm n see me at the hotel
goodheartedmale2003: jus go out as normal
goodheartedmale2003: then we cud have plenty fun in the room
(ed note: we could chew grass from our multiple stomachs, in the room? moo)
sablerose70: Do you have a job?
goodheartedmale2003: yes to please u now
goodheartedmale2003: thats my whole ambition in life now
(ed. note: Oh, well then I guess that answers THAT. Okay, I’ll need to give up my life now just for you, Prince Charming.)
sablerose70: How will you make all the money you will need to fly out here
and put yourself up in a hotel, AND date me?
sablerose70: I really don't know how I'm going to get away from my husband.
We spend most of our time together, and I don't go out very much. He'll get
suspicious.
goodheartedmale2003: out of my trust fund dont warry bout all that
sablerose70: What's your name?
sablerose70: hello?
goodheartedmale2003: khaled
goodheartedmale2003: plizzz dont show n e one my pic
sablerose70: Why, are you married?
goodheartedmale2003: not yet
goodheartedmale2003: thinkin bout it
sablerose70: Oh, so you have a girlfriend?
goodheartedmale2003: seriousely
sablerose70: Won't she miss you, if you disappear to the US for a while to
date me?
sablerose70: Khaled? Won't she miss you?
goodheartedmale2003: yes but i will only cumm for few days
goodheartedmale2003: at a time
sablerose70: Does she use the internet, is that why you don't want your
picture posted anywhere?
goodheartedmale2003: yes who doesnt use the internet these days
sablerose70: So if she saw your picture on the internet, then, she'd
probably be crushed, and leave you. I understand why you wouldn't want it
public.
goodheartedmale2003: yes plizzzz dont do anything like that
goodheartedmale2003: im sure u have have a good heart
sablerose70: Of course I have a good heart.
sablerose70: But I've also been cheated on before, and I swore to myself
that it would never happen again.
goodheartedmale2003: how
sablerose70: I was devastated when I found out my boyfriend was cheating on
me.
goodheartedmale2003: i wud never do that to u
(ed. note: Yah, because this is true fuckin’ love.)
sablerose70: But you'll cheat on your girlfriend.
goodheartedmale2003: yes
sablerose70: That makes her the victim, to me, and not you the victim,
wouldn't you say?
goodheartedmale2003: but come on
sablerose70: That's kind of why I started my website.
goodheartedmale2003: wouldnt u like to cumm with me
goodheartedmale2003: and then i cud do as u like
goodheartedmale2003: do u like mangos
(ed. note: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!!?)
sablerose70: Yes, I like mangos.
sablerose70: So anyway, about my website.
sablerose70: I started a website where women can go to find out who uses
Yahoo to cheat on their girlfriends and wives.
sablerose70: So what I do, is, if a man knows I"m married, and he still asks
me to cheat on my husband, then I capture the log of the chat, and I post it
there with a picture.
(ed. note: Right here, it started to sink in for Khaled. I truly believe he had to run to the bathroom to avoid peeing his pants, or to throw up, or something.)
sablerose70: Hello?
sablerose70: Khaled? Hello?
sablerose70: Well, I guess this is where I tell you that I have saved our
conversation, and I am going to post it to the website. Maybe your
girlfriend won't find it.
goodheartedmale2003: please dont do that
sablerose70: I'm sorry, Khaled. I can't stand being asked to cheat on my
husband, and I can't stand men who cheat on their girlfriends.
goodheartedmale2003: i swear it will ruin me
sablerose70: Actually, I'm not really sorry. This has been kind of fun.
sablerose70: You should have thought about that before you hit on a married
woman.
goodheartedmale2003: im sorry
sablerose70: You've got money, you'll be able to have a good life one way or
another.
goodheartedmale2003: plizzzz have a heart
sablerose70: It's not like you have any desire to do right by your
girlfriend anyway, she can't mean that much to you. Right?
goodheartedmale2003: plizzzzz
goodheartedmale2003: dont do this to me
goodheartedmale2003: i trusted u
(ed. note: and it’s all about trust, right? Asshat.)
sablerose70: Your girlfriend trusted you.
sablerose70: If you read my profile I clearly stated... if you hit on me,
you never know who will see the transcript.
sablerose70: You didn't care.
goodheartedmale2003: yes
goodheartedmale2003: but u know
goodheartedmale2003: i really liked u
sablerose70: You don't even know me, how could you like me?
goodheartedmale2003: i like whats u looked like
goodheartedmale2003: i hope u havent saved my pic
(ed. note: at this point, I saved his pic. At the time of this posting, however, it can still be found on his profile (because he’s an idiot) and it’s also on the Halls of Stupid version of this transcript, see sidebar)
sablerose70: And that tells you what kind of person I am?
sablerose70: Thanks for pointing that out - I just saved it. Your picture.
(ed. note: Right-click. Save As. asshat.jpg)
sablerose70: You even lie in your profile, you say your name is Mohammed.
Are you famous, Khaled?
sablerose70: Khaled, are you famous?
goodheartedmale2003: hey look plizzzz i trusted u
goodheartedmale2003: come on
goodheartedmale2003: so whats ure name
sablerose70: Rose.
goodheartedmale2003: hey look im gonna have the worst time of my life if u
do that
goodheartedmale2003: and i will feel really bad
sablerose70: Maybe you should explain to me why that is. Be specific.
goodheartedmale2003: becos we having a private chat
(ed. note: private, as in, not involving your GIRLFRIEND?!)
goodheartedmale2003: and i never used or said anything abusive to u
goodheartedmale2003: so please be fair
goodheartedmale2003: u know if i said anything abusive
sablerose70: You were warned, Khaled. If you won't even specifically tell
me why it would ruin your life, why should I care? It doesn't matter
anyway, it's probably going on this site.
goodheartedmale2003: then it understandable
goodheartedmale2003: plizzz
goodheartedmale2003: dont
sablerose70: You abused your relationship with your girlfriend, and my
relationship with my husband, by doing it. You should have thought it
through.
goodheartedmale2003: but i never used any abusive language
(ed. note: and that makes you a good guy. Uh huh.)
goodheartedmale2003: dont u appreciate that
goodheartedmale2003: and i never swore u
sablerose70: I don't appreciate being asked to whore myself out and lie to
my husband.
goodheartedmale2003: becos i know
goodheartedmale2003: but i never said anything like that
(ed. note: what planet is this guy on?)
sablerose70: Sorry Khaled. Too late
goodheartedmale2003: becos im loyal to yahoo
(ed. note: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!?!)
sablerose70: Yeah, you did, you asked me to lie to him and come spend time
with you.
goodheartedmale2003: and ive never done that
sablerose70: Yes, you did.
goodheartedmale2003: and i never intent to do that
goodheartedmale2003: but u asked me wheter u shud lie
goodheartedmale2003: u have a mind of ure own
sablerose70: Having an affair with you isn't lying to my husband?
goodheartedmale2003: if i told u to go and jump off the top off the building
goodheartedmale2003: wud u do it
sablerose70: You asked me to ruin my marriage. Same thing. And no. I
didn't do it.
goodheartedmale2003: come on dont be irrational
(ed. note: Because… flying a girl to London for a little nookie, that’s rational. Flying to Arizona to date a married woman, that’s rational.)
sablerose70: Bye, Khaled. I have to go now.
goodheartedmale2003: i never said anything like that
goodheartedmale2003: ure very wrong
goodheartedmale2003: and i think u need ureself evaluated
(ed. note: yup, I’m the one with the problem…)
goodheartedmale2003: cos u think ure tooo clever
(ed. note: Nope, I KNOW I’m clever… clever enough to WARN people on my profile that if they hit on me, I’ll share the transcript… fuckwad)
goodheartedmale2003: u should chill out for a bit
goodheartedmale2003: i think ure too stressed out
goodheartedmale2003: woman
(ed. note: Ooh! Get forceful with me, Khaled! Give it to me, Big Khaled!)
goodheartedmale2003: if ure man cheated on u , its not my fault
goodheartedmale2003: maybe ure not good enuff for him
goodheartedmale2003: thats y he cheated on u
sablerose70: Are you still here? Why are you still here? It's been an
hour, and you're still waiting for me to talk?
-----
At this point, Khaled asked to add me as a friend. Which I promptly denied and replied, “Khaled, ARE YOU ON DRUGS?!?” He didn’t reply.
Here’s what I’d love to see.
I’d love to see people email Khaled at GOODHEARTEDMALE2003@YAHOO.COM and tell him you hear he’s looking for a little something on the side! If you check his profile, you can see whether or not he’s online, and you could have a little fun with him yourself.
If you actually chat with him and save the transcript, I'll even PROMISE YOU that I will post it here with a link to your site, if you're kind enough to share it with me.
Rock on.
Can I just say, I love this shit?
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Sunday, March 14, 2004
ONE FOR SORROW, TWO FOR JOY
My Goddamn Rock Solid Ghetto Shiznit Name is
If I use my married name, I am
Fo shizzle, mah bizizzle.
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Saturday, March 13, 2004
ONE BOURBON, ONE SCOTCH, ONE BEER
I am plowed
Drunk. Tipsy. I have my snoot full. I've had one too many.
If you could see how many tyos I keep backspacing, you'd be amazed.
I told myself a very long time ago I wasn't going to blog while tipsy. However. I am alone, I've been experimenting with cocktail recipes (thank you, the Lemon Drop Martini, the Sour Apple-Tini, and the Cosmopolitan) and I'm fucking hammered.
I miss my husband.
I wish I could think of ANY FUCKING THING ELSE but my husband, but I can't. Maybe that's because I am historically horny when I'm drunk. Maybe that's because I wish I could talk to him FACE TO FACE. Maybe it's because it's 9:40 on a Saturday and because I have NO FUCKING LIFE, I am here without him.
My friends, many of my friends, whom I love dearly, are going to the Renaissance Festival on the only Saturday that I am doing the garage sale. Bah. I love them dearly and they care about me greatly, they are the source of the magnanimous and wonderful wedding gift I recently received.They care for me and I care for them, and the fact that they scheduled their trip has nothing to do with my garage sale.
I'm just still sad and pissy.
Shanna suggested some stuff I should write about. Maybe I'll do that. I am positive you guys are sick to fucking death of me bitching and complaining.
Just know that i appreciate every one of you, ok? I know this sounds like the drunk blogger's "I love you, man," but honestly. It's true.
I appreciate all of you.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Thank you to those of you with wellwishes for my mom. She's doing fine. They took a small biopsy of a portion of her bladder, stressed they didn't think it is cancer, and sent her home. She's doing great, and wasn't having any discomfort or pain at all.
Over some vegetable soup and an oriental salad with sesame dressing, we talked about everything and nothing. We then watched "Robin Williams Live on Broadway," which I would highly recommend, and the motion picture, "Chicago." I loved it!
Went and had some sushi last night with my favorite Itame, and then decided I probably didn't need to spend that $20. Serves me right, I suppose, but I was having a craving and knew they wouldn't be too busy at 9pm on a Friday night.
We were gonig to get up this morning and take the dogs up to the park for a nice walk, since Cody's feeling so good, but it poured rain all night so we didn't. Gonna shoot for Sunday pm.
And, the cats are fighting like... well, cats. It's really rough. I spanked Noki over and over and over again last night, and she BRUTALLY attacked Murphy this morning. He still won't come out from under the end table where he makes his home now, and he hisses and growls at me when I come near him. This shit has got to stop.
On today's agenda:
1) Clean the kitchen.
2) Clean the cat boxes.
3) Learn how to make a Lemon Drop Martini.
4) Go to Safeway and buy more soup, and the stuff for Lemon Drop Martinis.
5) Eat soup and have a cocktail.
Ta-dah.
Oh, did I mention that I went to Cost Plus and bought a couple of nice martini glasses, a couple of nice new wine glasses, and a cocktail shaker? I would give you links to all the wonderful stuff I bought, but Cost Plus doesn't have that capability on their website, which sucks.
Okay then, off to the business, of business.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Friday, March 12, 2004
DA DA DA
My mom has her "procedure" (read: surgery) today. I'll try to update later, but right now I'm pretty much running late on my way to work.
Lost two pounds.
And still had two cocktails last night.
It's a good day.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Thursday, March 11, 2004
LIFE IS SHIT
R.I.P., Dave Blood.
Life is Shit
I ran into a friend of mine
Said he was gonna take some words and make them rhyme
I said "You can fool some of them some of the time,
But you can only fool half them all of the time"
He said "Yes I do believe this is true,
Would you like to come and sniff some glue?
And we'll fly to where the skies are blue
And look for things both bright and new"
And on a pretty Sunday morning
A bunch of pretty Baptist girls
Linked their pretty hands and they sang
Life is shit, life is shit
The world is shit, the world is shit
This is life as I know it
This is life as I know it
And in the sky I saw Richard Nixon
Smoking a lacey with Mr. Dickson
He said "Son there's something I must say,
I do believe I've found a better way"
And a vision came
And I new it was Bob Crane
And Bob sang:
Life is shit, life is shit
The world is shit, the world is shit
This is life as I know it
This is life as I know it
And when my friend and I were done
We went to rest upon the sun
Cause life takes from us the things we love
And it robs us of the special ones
And it puts them high where we can't climb
And we only miss them all the time
And we sing:
Life is shit, life is shit
The world is shit, the world is shit
This is life as I know it
This is life as I know it
This is life as I know it
This is life as I know it
This is life as I know it
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
The Dead Milkmen's Dave Blood dead of suicide, March 10, 2004.
What a fucking suck.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
So, my clothes are fluffing in the dryer and one of my dogs is rolling around on our bed, doing this strange thing he does... if he thinks he's alone in the room, he will flop around on the bed like a tortured dying fish, shoving his nose under the pillows, and squirming his way under the covers, until he is completely upside down and ass-backwards. He will then pause and turn his eyes towards the door of the bedroom to see if someone is watching him. If no one is watching him, he will continue his Thriller Zombie thrashing about, and repeat the same sequence. If eventually, he sees me peeking through the doorway at him, he will smile at me (I don't lie, this dog smiles) and jump off the bed as if he got caught in some kind of bizarre self-love ritual.
For all I know, that's EXACTLY what it is.
This is my last day of work at 7am for a while. My mom's surgery is tomorrow so I will be taking off work at noon and going home to be with her while she recovers. She still insists on calling it a "procedure," but I feel if they're knocking your ass out so they can cut shit off the inside of you, it's surgery.
I honestly did send S.'s care package box yesterday (I neglected to do so on Monday or Tuesday) and he should have it on Monday. I'm getting better - this monstrous pile of crap was only 13.5 pounds. Of course, UPS has to bill me for 14 pounds, but who's arguing?
I've been working on the database at work all week. Not because it's something that should TAKE me all week, but because I'm just not GOOD at working in the database so it causes some problems for me. I have a tendency to second-guess myself, and I go back and re-proof everything once or twice before actually "letting it go." The database is real important in my office, and I'd hate to have my name attached to something that wasn't pretty much perfect. So, I go slow. I think it's probably the slowest thing I actually work on in my office, the database. I'm not used to going so slowly on something. Hopefully by the end of the day today I'll be done with additions and updates and double checking names, and can start on scrubbing it. Yay, me.
This weekend, I am realizing I'm going to have to really go through all the garage sale stuff and put prices on everything, and it's making me feel pretty damned overwhelmed. I'm just beside myself with being freaked out about everything right now.
And according to the scale, which didn't budge, day two of my actual, real diet hasn't done much. I don't even know what to do, this is pissing me the hell off. Must. Exercise. Hate To Exercise. Aurgh!
Oh, and as a side note, I believe I may be featured on Smitten today as a guest author-ess of sorts... Deb asked for virginity stories ("Deflowering, as she's choosing to call it") so mine will be up over there if not today, then maybe tomorrow. You'll see it on the right sidebar under "deflowered," but you should check her out if you haven't already even if I'm not there.
I need some coffee.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS LOST AT THE TIME
Sorry about the late update this morning. I got a little bit distracted this a.m. and ended up leaving a few minutes late on top of it.
So, a friend of mine last night suggested that I am over-reactive and over-sensitive, and that I create drama. I pointed out that this is a female trait, chromosomally passed from one generation to another. He begged to differ, so I had to take a little bit of time, create some drama, become overly-sensitive about the commentary, and evaluate my ability to cope.
I have decided to agree with him, on a limited basis.
I agree that I create drama for myself. There are times that I look for things to be ticked off about. There are times I would, perhaps, rather feel disappointed just so I could “feel” something. Typically, this is during a time when I’m working on making myself feel numb.
But I’m no drama queen, goddammit.
YOU’RE MAKING ME ILL
My friend Amanda and I (not a blogger) are going to be each other’s “food buddies” and email one another twice a day with our eating and drinking habits. I am agreeing to put myself through this in an effort to lose a ton of weight by the time my husband comes home at the end of April.
So, we’ll see if that helps me or not.
LITTLE MISS CAN’T BE WRONG
I’ve added some webrings. If you know of a webring to which you think this site would make a good addition, please let me know.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
MONEY, IT'S A GAS
I don't know what I did to deserve it, but it can keep coming as far as I'm concerned.
Money.
Something's turning around in the universe, and suddenly money juju is coming our direction. I can't rightly explain it, nor do I want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
- We ended the month a little bit AHEAD.
- S. sent me the first check of the month already, and it was more than I expected!
- My tax refund will be on the order of $1100!
- We got a belated wedding gift from an amazing group of friends, in the form of $500 cash money.
- The vet continues to not charge us for Cody's ongoing treatment, except for his medication.
- The lady who supplies me with my side job just let me know yesterday that not only will she have some work coming up, but it is ONLY work I can do and it is $30/hr straight-time work, AND it's some of my favorite stuff (Spanish translation). So, I will be making $30 an hour to work on some Spanish work, and if I do that 3-4x a week I should be able to exceed what I was making last year, per week, for her.
- She also says she's going to find a way that, if/when we move to Oklahoma, she can keep using me for my Spanish language work, long distance.
- S. has got a couple people on the line at Keesler to try some of our essential oil and incense products, so I am sending some to him in the Care Package today.
Money.
S. says things like this happen because we deserve it. I think I may have learned over my lifetime not to question things quite so much and just accept it when the World decides to give you some of the things you need.
Speaking of things you need, Care Package #2 is on its way to my darling hubby. In it are a bunch of clothes I got him on sale, a Summit racing catalogue, a gaming magazine, a bunch of Clif bars, some snacks, razor blades, CD's, tax forms, some prescription meds, lots of fun stuff for him. Only about 1/8 of it is stuff he "needs," but I wanted to send him stuff.
Care package #1 was an obnoxious 20 pound box of crap. I hope he likes this one. :)
In other news, this be at work at 7am stuff takes some getting used to, man. Wow. Holy mackerel.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Monday, March 08, 2004
STARING DOWN THE BARREL OF A .45
My stomach hurts.
I wish I knew exactly why that was. The stomach hurting. It might be because I didn't eat very well this weekend. Or maybe I was clenching it while I slept... it kind of feels like an "exercise" hurt. Either way, I'm not feeling very good about my weight progress OR my stomach this morning.
This week I am working extra hours so I can take off some time on Friday and be with my mom, since that's when she has her "procedure." She still refuses to call it surgery, and if that's going to make her feel better about it then so be it.
On Friday night, my husband S. and I had a very interesting conversation. I've been trying to find a way to reconcile it all where I could present it here, and since I don't seem to be making any real progress in that regard I figured I might as well just start typing about it and see what comes out. Because, with all due respect to all of you who are thoughtful enough to read me, I still don't really write for you, I write for my own sanity and mental and emotional health, so it's important for me to lay stuff out. I'm just lucky to have your acceptance in the middle of all my emotional spew.
So anyway, the conversation.
S. is an amazing man. There's something about him - there has always been something about him - that makes me want to be June Cleaver. It's strange and odd, to be sure, but this overachiever feminist independent freak child wants to take care of him and make him proud of me and do right by him, but not just in the standard relationship ways. For this man, I would actually be... traditional. Gasp! I know, it surprises me to even say it. But I can see myself staying home, making dinner, keeping the house clean, raising kids, and just being there for him however he needed me to be. I suppose it gets back to the whole idea of "I want to be the girl," but this is part of what I meant.
S. makes me feel like a woman. Womanly. He tries to take care of me. Part of the issue we have, however, is that just like my ex husband convinced me I'd always have to take care of everything or nothing would ever get done, his ex wife convinced him that he wasn't capable of doing anything but bringing home a paycheck. So as a result, he had a lot of growing to do coming out of his divorce just like I still have a lot of growing to do. I have been trying to explain to him what a strong influence he is for me, and how I believe in him and I totally trust him to lead this family. And now, he's starting to see it too.
He's very excited in school and is suddenly talking about "when" we have kids and "when" he is able to truly provide for his family. He talks about taking care of me and watching over me and doing right by me. And it only makes me want to do more for him.
I always thought I would be one of those women who "had to work" and "couldn't give up a career," but something's changing in me. Maybe it just takes the right man to do it, to come up with the strength to 'tame' the right woman. But I want to be his wife, and I want to live as his wife, and I want that to be my job. If we were financially stable on one income, I would be just fine devoting my life and my time to managing our household and taking care of him and raising kids and doing all of those blatantly non-feminist things.
Do I want to be his slave? Heavens, no. I mean don't get me wrong, I don't want him to take my shit, and I don't want our relationship to be about me "getting my way" or "having it how I want it" just for the virtue of that. But I don't want there to be any power struggles, I don't want us to pull against each other or push against each other, I want this family to work together as a unit - even if it is only the two of us - and take care of one another and love one another and grow.
Does this mean I'm a little submissive? I could be a little submissive. It's not any kind of D/s sexual thing, I just don't have any problem respecting my Man and trusting him to lead me, and our family unit, and if we were in a position for my only job to be taking care of him and supporting him in his efforts to support us, I'd do it.
Me. Career girl, control freak, independent, in-your-face Rose.
And I want him to know that I totally know he'd be able to do it. It's not like I'm going to quit my job tomorrow, certainly not, but if it came down to it, I'd do whatever he asked me to do.
And it would all make perfect sense to me.
And in this conversation, it all made sense to him, too. And he told me he wants to take care of me. And provide. And look out for me. Us.
I think we're on the same page.
Freaky.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.
Name: Rose
Age: 36
Religion: Pagan
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess
I am currently pimping:
Kasora Teas.
me @ consumating
I play Everquest II!
Thornwyn Tamarisk
Iksar Necromancer, Kithicor
We're trying for a baby!
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