Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Not that I am complaining, or anything, because you know me. I just want the hell out of here for a week.
But not only did our stop in Cozumel get canceled... we don't get to go anywhere in its place.
So, we'll have 1 sailaway day, 2 sea days, 2 port days, 2 sea days, and then the "getting off the ship" day.
That's okay though. It'll just be more time to relax and kick back and have fun. It's not like there isn't always something going on, on the ship. It'll all be good.
Me? I've got new nails so long I can't hardly type with them, I'm waiting for our friend who's going to be a cat-sitter and house-sitter to show up and go over some last minute details, things like that.
I hear there's a beer in the freezer chilling for me.
Tomorrow we leave for TX. Sunday we'll be on the ship.
If you want to see us pulling away, you can go to:
galveston.com on the WEBCAMS page. Scroll down to the HARBOR CAM at around 5pm CST on Sunday. Some time between 5pm and 6pm CST, probably closer to 6pm, you'll be able to see our ship pulling out of the harbor.
In the meantime everybody have a great few weeks and if I can get some free or cheap internet I will try to sneak in.
Sound like a deal?
Mwah! I'll miss you guys! See you on or around November 8!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Because I'm mean.
So I post that I'm a transcriptionist.
And she says:
Technology is catching up with you... we use voice recognition transcription services.... all computerized now a-days...
Yeah, she's not starting fights with me or anything.
Hoor. Hoor. Hoor. Hoor. Hoor.
It's okay though. I was very kind and loving in my reply.
Funny, that. I also do some copy editing for a company that uses voice recognition transcription programs. I also edit translations that are "translated" by computer programs, which are not often accurate. Someone's got to clean up the mistakes left behind by technology, after all!
I'm so mean.
She, of course, isn't responding.
Oh. Happy birthday. S.!
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I am OFFICIALLY ON VACATION.
For TWO WEEKS.
Pour me a double!
Aw, come on, I'm sure you know what it is. The whole "I am a big man/woman/gorilla/prick/bitch/asswipe/dipshit behind my computer screen and keyboard, becuase you can't come here directly and kick my ass. But in person, I'm different." That whole thing.
Like I said, they're everywhere.
They seem to run rampant on message boards, especially.
And the cruise forum I have been frequenting is no exception.
Mine? I call her CruseTroll.
CruiseTroll is a roly-poly woman (self-admitted) in her 50's who is a control freak, pushy, bitchy, knows-everything, false-feeling-of-entitlement hoor who has apparently NO goal in life other than to try to piss me off.
Two months ago, she attacked me on the main cruise forum board becuase I was frustrated that Carnival did not apply our previously-given military discount to our new cruise, after our cruise got canceled and we were forced to switch ships. I wrote them a letter (as did many people about the cancellations) and we were all on the same message board thread talking about how we had contacted them and felt better after getting it off our chest, and what ships we ended up on, and the like.
Her first, very first, first-ever, like, ultra-first post to me?
(paraphrased) "I don't know why you think the military should automatically be entitled to some kind of mandatory discount. I don't think that's fair to everyone else. My sister-in-law is retired from the military and she just bought a great house! And her house is twice as big as MY house and she paid much less than we did for our house! Plus, she has a great retirement! I am sure I will have to be living with HER when I am 80 years old because I won't have a great retirement like her! So I think you're coming across as a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum just because you can't get your way."
Nice, huh? What a doll! So of course I wrote her back, and of course the thread got yanked because it's a CRUISE FORUM for chrissake and people don't want to see fights (me included).
So like two weeks later, I realize that she is on my sailing. Joy. So to extend the olive branch, I point out to her that there's a "roll call" thread for our sailing where a bunch of us are getting to know one another, and that she should hop on over and share the fun.
And she did.
*slams head on desk*
*over and over*
This woman never did get rid of her chip on her shoulder. Plus, she's a dumbass. Plus, she talks out her ass about shit she knows nothing about.
So, let's see. What's our Roll Call been like since she showed up?
First of all, she tried to coerce one of us into stepping up and being a "cruise director" and planning social gatherings for everyone. Which of course, none of us wanted the responsibility of doing, because it's a CRUISE and it's OUR VACATION and we don't want to worry about what everyone else is doing.
Then, she kept saying that if Carnival wasn't going to throw a halloween party (she and her husband are dressing up like clowns - bwahaha) then SOMEONE on our thread should set one up just for us. (I politely explained that yes, Carnival is having a Halloween party, and yes, we'd already talked about it, and yes, we're all bringing costumes). She ignored me completely and asked another 3x about halloween parties. Everyone kept telling her the same thing. Finally she got tired of our sorry asses, I guess, and e-mailed Carnival directly to ask them if there would be a halloween party.
I wrote her back, because I couldn't fucking help myself, and said something like, "Hey there -- that's great! Thank you for taking the intiative to get this all figured out. Let me know if your Carnival rep says anything different than mine, or hers, or his, or hers did. I'll be interested to see if you get a different answer."
Of course, her answer was the same as all of ours, but she had to post it on the thread cut-and-pasted out of her e-mail so we could all see what a God Of The Intarweb And Information Gathering she was. I just snickered to myself and wrote back telling her that I was glad to see she got the same answer as me, or her, or him, or her, and that we should all now push forward planning for a halloween party to happen.
Then there was this -- I spent 2 months researching Cozumel, Jamaica, and Grand Cayman. TWO MONTHS. I've never BEEN there, but I knew what we wanted to do. And I had made "online friends" with the proprietors of some of the places we're going to go. So someone who hadn't done all that research asked what we were doing in Cozumel, and I spoke up and said we were going to go to Paradise Beach. Because it was free to get in. And then the food and beverage was reasonable.
CruiseTroll? She's got to write back to the same person, and say that Paradise Beach was $8 to get in and was not all-inclusive.
So I write back and say, uh, no, it's free to get in, and it's $8 to get the wristband to play with the water toys, and you're right, it's not all-inclusive, you buy your own food and beverages.
So she -- get this -- e-mails the proprietor (who I have gotten to know online) and then goes to the website for the place, downloads everything from the website, asks the proprietor a bunch of questions in e-mail, and then posts it all up to the board. Trying to prove me wrong, and directly arguing with me. Even though everything she posts to the board, backs up what I said. So I tell her I think it's great she e-mailed the proprietor, isn't he a great guy, I've been corresponding with him for two months, glad she found the website, thank you for posting the food menu and the list of activities, and for doing all that footwork. *cough* She proceeds to write back and thank me for helping her "decide what not to do in Cozumel." I guess that meant that since I was going to Paradise Beach, she'd be going somewhere else.
Yesterday? Yesterday, it was Cozumel. Cozumel has been destroyed. Flattened. And as sad as it makes me and as much as I almost want to cry over it, we did have to turn our attention to where we might go since we probably are not going to Coz. CruiseTroll? Oh no, you see, she knows everything, and she says we're going to Coz.
But the piers are wrecked, someone says.
They can tender in, CruiseTroll says.
But there's martial law and looting and no one can get in or out, there isn't enough food on the island to feed the survivors.
All the more reason for us to show up, she says, as our tourism dollars are just what they need.
But even with tourism dollars they can't buy anything because they can't even rebuild their houses, and they are rationing food, I say.
Pooh pooh on you, negative Nancy, she says. And that we should all think positively and pull in our hearts and minds for the little island so it can be ready and up and running, just for us.
So I posted a news update from someone on the island showing the destruction, and she went off on some path about how some people just can't stand her giving her opinions and being positive and forward-thinking, and how HER positivity brings out the worst in some people.
I let it go and ignored it, but someone else had to ask her what's up. So she made a post! I just about fell out of my chair!
You see... SOMEONE on the board FOLLOWS her around TRYING TO START FIGHTS with her and it makes her VERY upset and SAD because she has a STRESSFUL JOB and she has had SURGERY THIS YEAR and she NEEDS this VACATION so MUCH and it SHOULDN'T be so STRESSFUL and she's going to be SO GLAD to meet everyone on Saturday... (because S. and I won't be there on Saturday, we will be at the meet-and-greet on Monday)
I'm just gonna keep ignoring her and/or killing her with kindness. People like that shouldn't even be allowed on cruise ships. I'd thump her over the head with my Bubba Keg, but I don't want to risk denting the keg.
I'm flattered, though, that she's so intimidated by me that she hates me SO much that she can't even plan her cruise in peace without making everything I do or say, about her.
Some people need to be given permission to crawl in a hole and die.
Monday, October 24, 2005
What is a Bubba Keg?
A Bubba Keg is an insanely large piece of insulated beverage-hauling equipment. Made to keep your hot bevvies hot and your cold bevvies cold. For hours. Twelve hours.
The Bubba Keg is apparently the invention of the uh, Bubba Keg Company or something. And the insulation that they use to keep your frosty beverage frosty? Bubba Fat.
I can't make this shit up.
The ones we bought are 52-ounces. And they are blue. Kind of a royal blue. With the stainless steel sides. And they barely fit in our little suitcase, the small one we're packing with "incidentals" instead of the big ones we are packing with "clothes."
And why, might you ask, did we need dual bubba kegs? To hold frosty beverages! On the ship! By the pool! You know, if we wanted to get some uh, fruit punch. From the Lido Deck. Uh, the fruit punch that they offer for uh, free. With some rum in it. Or some uh, lemonade. From the lido deck. The lemonade. With some vodka in it. Or uh, a cold beer. From our cooler.
I'm sorry. Was that my outside voice?
BUBBA KEG, y'all. I actually purchased something with the word "bubba" on the side. Bubba. Keg.
I'm the epitome of class.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Last night, we ended up going up to Applebee's instead of the little Mexican joint, because they were closing by the time we went out for our late dinner/snack/bevvie. S. worked until nearly 10pm. So, when he came home I was all gussied up, he changed into some of his new clothes (hottttttt!) and then we went up to Applebee's. Where I proceeded to have the Perfect Margarita, which is indeed, perfect.
S. picked up some Red Stipe Beer at the Commissary so he could get a feeling for the "local brew" in Jamaica. It appears we have decided on the "Party Snorkel Trip On Trimaran" which includes unlimited rum punch and Red Stripe (after you're done snorkeling, of course), an hour's cruise around the bay drinking and partying and dancing, and a lunch stop at Margaritaville.
He had a Red Stripe, I burped and held my stomach after my club sammich and my margarita, and we hit the sack around midnight.
This morning, we slept in a little bit late, walked the dog, went over the packing list, and hit the road to Edmond to pick up some dog food and Nature's Miracle (we had a small accident on the carpet, and when I say we, I mean one of my pets, by which I mean the cat) and then we decided to stop and try a new sushi joint and we were pleasantly surprised, and very happy and STUFFED with our lunch. Yummy!
We also went to the pet store for dog food, to Petco for Nature's Miracle (grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr) and then we decided we'd stop in Tuesday Morning to see if we could find a beach bag. That's like the only thing we really need now. A beach bag, you know, like a mesh or wicker bag that you can put all your beach crap in. Sigh.
They did not have one.
They did, however, have about $40 worth of other stuff we couldn't live without.
Then we went to the Dollar Tree, where we found another $7 worth of stuff we couldn't live without.
And then we decided to come home. Playing and singing Jimmy Buffett all the way home. Nothing quite gets you in the mood for taking a Caribbean cruise, like that music.
On to packing.
It's going to be a chore.
I already have my first yummy glass of chilled pink wine in front of me.
And hubby? His Red Stripe.
And Jimmy's on in the background.
So. I'm gonna go pack.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Uh, where was I going with that? Focus, Rose, Focus.
Uhhhhh, in the middle of me being all psycho wacked out about the storm and everything (criminy, y'all, I'm even tracking a storm system in the eastern caribbean that isn't even a tropical depression yet) something awesome happened today.
My hubby got a promotion.
It's a "lateral promotion," not an increase in rank or anything, but a move to another shop.
The shop where he is? That's the trenches. That's 3 shifts, 24 hours a day, sometimes 12 hours shifts, nights, weekends, on-call, bleah, BLEAH BLEAH BLEAH. Horse shit. I mean, yes, I love the military, they are my favorites evar. But if they tell you to work in horse shit, well, then you work in horse shit.
His new job, that he will start when we get back from our trip? His own desk, his own phone, in an adjacent shop, where he will get to learn stuff and take classes and then teach and train other people.
What's that, you ask? The hours? Days. Five days a week.
Oh, and did I mention he was hand-selected? Like, picked for the job before anyone even knew the job was going to be open? Because he's good like that.
I tell you what. I am fucking thrilled. Now I DEFINITELY will make a point of enjoying myself on the ship no matter where we go or what we do.
Because it also means my life gets to be back to normal, we can eat dinner as a family, all that stuff. Sounds to me like we're getting set up to have our own little parental world, if you ask me. Hooray for day shift!
And tonight? Instead of working until 11pm, he might get off around 8pm. Which means margaritas at the Mexican joint up the road.
So even if we ended up on a Cruise To Nowhere (read: a cruise where there really are no ports of call, just days on the ship) I'll be happy.
I don't care where we end up. Islands, jungles, ruins, beaches, or a huge floating hotel with 12 bars cruising around the ocean.
Anywhere's going to be fine with me.
I JUST WANT IT TO BE NEXT WEEK.
All this stress about hurricanes is very literally starting to make me sick.
Poor Cozumel is getting the living fuck pounded out of it.
It makes me almost want to cry.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Yesterday, my father-in-law and mother-in-law (S.'s dad and stepmom) passed through OKC on their way to Kansas to transact some real estate business, and stayed over with us. Mostly with me, because S. is working noon-11pm and had to stay on shift the whole shift as they're on minimum manning. So, it was just me and the 'rents.
I made a pork roast and roasted vegetables for dinner, poured the wine and we had some really great conversations. They also brought their new dog, Rascal, a "shitz-a-poo," who ran Boomer ragged and made Murphy sneak around here with an untrusting eye to anyone that moved. You know. Because I allowed them to bring the dog in here, and so I was also on the list.
S. got home just after 11pm and they gave him a couple of early birthday gifts (his birthday is next Wednesday), among them a holster for his Surefire flashlight (which he loved) and a 19.2v remote-controlled Shelby Cobra - this is a big remote control car, y'all -- which we took down to the driveway and drag-raced until the batteries ran out (like father, like son -- FIL had charged it up before he brought it out, knowing we'd want to run it).
I went to bed at around midnight or 12:30am, as did MIL, and left the men to sit up talking over a beer and catching up. I'm always so happy to see what a great relationship S. has with his parents. And they are thrilled that we are trying for a baby. They assure us they have soooooooooooooooo much love and affection for a grandchild (it appears, on S.'s side of this family, we are the "last great hope" for a grandchild... S.'s sister, who is my age, has some issues that are currently preventing her from being able to conceive.) So.
S.'s parents -- all 4 of them -- are all for it.
This morning, we got up and the 'rents took us out to breakfast, which is always fun. They headed out at about 10:00 a.m., but not before slipping "us" $100.00 for us to take on our cruise as spending money. I know it's part of the birthday plan, but it was very kind of them to make me feel like part of the festivities.
And then at about 1pm, I started to not feel well. Queasy stomach, blinding headache... I worked for about a half an hour and didn't work any more. And I'm not going to work tonight, either. I'm trying to convince myself it's not "playing hooky," because I think I do need the extra rest. The cruise is a week away and I can't afford to be wasting any of that valuable relaxation time feeling icky. Godammit.
As for Wilma, the dirty whore, she is moving seven whole miles an hour. Just heard from some folks on the island of Cozumel that she's supposed to be over top of Cozumel - the whole island - for 23 hours. 23 HOURS. Christ on a cracker, people. 23 fucking hours.
Cozumel was the port we were most looking forward to, and if we can't go I'm going to be really horked off. Plus, now that I've made friends with some Canadian and American folks who take up residence there, whom I won't be meeting in two weeks or so if it's bad, well... that makes me sad and I am worried for them.
The only possible guilty pleasure possibility in it for us if we don't go to Cozumel is, there's a chance we could go to Progreso instead. And Progreso is the little town near Merida. And Merida is where you catch the tour to go to Chichen Itza. Hi, my name is Rose, and I'm your tour guide. I'd like to welcome you to three months ago!
More cruise juggling: Our Jamaica day is also up in the air right now. I know, I'll ask YOU GUYS... what would YOU do?
We were going to go to an all-inclusive beach resort for part of the day in Montego Bay, Jamaica. It is called Sunset Beach. At the time we made the plans (didn't pay any deposits or anything, just made the decision) it was $20.00 per person and it was all you can eat, all you can drink, all you can relax.
Well, then they put in a water park. And in the last 10 days - I am not kidding - the admission price has increased to $45.00 per person. I don't know about you, but it would take me quite a while to drink $45.00 worth of Jamaican beer or Jamaican rum, in Jamaica, plus they'd have to haul my happy ass back to the ship and then pour me on board, if I didn't freak out some security guy by puking on his shoes.
PLUS they don't have lockers there, so if we did want to go on the water slides or something, to try to get our "money's worth," we'd have to go one at a time so one of us could watch our "stuff." What a honeymoon that would be. "Okay baby, I wanna go on this slide over here. Here, hold my bag, and here's the camera. Okay. You gonna be okay here for a minute? All right. Here, don't let that waiter take my drink. All right. I'll be back. Love you, mean it. I'll tell you all about it when I'm done." That's sexy. Seriously, that gets me so hot. I'm sure the romance and the bow-chicka-bow-bow would REALLY be on my mind after an afternoon of THAT lovey-dovey couples experience. [/bitch /sarcasm /lie]
No longer worth it to me. $20 for jerk chicken and Red Stripe and a real Pina Colada served beachside? Okay, a few Pina Coladas, served beachside? Worth it. $45 for other peoples' screaming kids, a few water slides, and the like? So not worth it.
So THIS PLACE HERE comes highly recommended. And these are the tours that would be available.
What would you do, if we still go to Jamaica? We're goign to Montego Bay so if anyone's been there and wants to give us some ideas...
Which of those excursions on that page sound cool to you? I'm leaning towards #3 (mineral springs) or #6 (snorkeling) but the snorkeling might really suck after a hurricane like Wilma hits the island.
Dream along with me - you have $50/pp to spend in Jamaica. What do you do? Keep in mind that Margaritaville is somewhere we'd like to see, but a $10 hamburger and a $8 margarita just so I can say I ate at a kitschy chain that happens to be part-owned by Jimmy Buffet, while cool, also manages to find its way onto the "not worth it" list. Maybe a snack and share one drink together or something, but that starts to wreck the budget.
Okay. I'm going to go crawl back into bed, now. Mwah, my friends. Wait, better let me kiss you on the cheek - you don't want what I got.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
This is a big deal because my mother insists that I should not get pregnant until I weigh 140 pounds. I have not weighed 140 pounds since I was in high school. And when I weighed 140 pounds, my mother thought I was fat, and would tell me so to my face.
This is also a big deal because I am getting older, and if I were to wait until I weigh 140 pounds, at the rate I have been losing weight, it will be another year or more before I could comply with my mother's wishes regarding my personal health.
That is an unreasonable thing considering the risks go up the longer I wait.
So. I weigh 30 pounds more than the doctor said he thought would be "ideal" to get pregnant, seven or eight months ago. This is significantly more than the 140 pounds that my mother feels would be "appropriate" for me to weigh before getting pregnant.
But I used to weigh 50 pounds more than that.
And I am eating right and living right and doing the right thing.
So I told my mother.
And she hasn't responded.
It's just sad when the one thing that damn near gives me panic attacks any more is considering the scenario when I tell my mom, finally, that I am pregnant. Because in her mind, I will never be "ready" to be pregnant.
But I have to hurry up. My time is running out. And S. and I want to be parents so very much, we have so much love to give a baby. Our baby.
Mom? Some time soon, I hope to tell you I'm pregnant.
Now will somebody tell me why I'm crying, or get me to stop, please? Because this whole "crying because I told my mom that it's not that I don't care what she thinks or that I don't think her argument has some merit to it, but I have to weigh my options and decide what is ultimately better for my baby-to-be, and as of right now that is going ahead and trying to get pregnant while I am living right and being healthy and my body is free and clear of unnecessary bullshit and hormones and medications and crap and while I can stay at home and work my home business to care for an infant" thing has got to stop.
From a category 1 to a category 5 (and not just ANY category 5, the worst category 5 on record, EVER) in 24 hours.
Please pray for Florida, Cuba, and everyone else in the Caribbean.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005Yo ho ho, y'all!
Well, it might not be Talk Like A Pirate Day, I'm about a month late, but guess what I just found out?
When we are in Grand Cayman, it will be during the Pirates Week Festival!
How fun is that going to be? You know, along with crowded, crazy, and rum-soaked?
But seriously! Pirates Week!
Monday, October 17, 2005
Oh well. Better now than in 14 days from now. As we speak, cruise ships are changing itineraries, some folks are getting a Cruise To Nowhere (at this point, I'd take it) and I'm just praying that the Island of Cozumel doesn't take ANOTHER beating from ANOTHER hurricane this year.
Those poor people just don't deserve or need another one.
As for us? We have travel insurance, so if a hurricane keeps us from leaving, we'll be okay. As long as we make it onto the ship, Carnival will take good care of us and make sure we don't go anywhere unsafe or non-fun. There are lots of ports in the eastern Caribbean where we might could end up.
I'm just praying another 'cane doesn't hit the gulf coast of the US. I don't know how much more of this weather stuff the country can take.
UPDATE -- TALK ABOUT GIRLY BODILY FUNCTIONS -- READ AT OWN RISK
Okay. So. If you count the days of a menstrual cycle from day 1 to day whenever your period starts. And if your period starts on day 1. And if most women in a 28 day cycle ovulate on or around day 14.
I will be ovulating on the day we get on the ship.
We might get quite the souvenir from the trip.
Not like I truly believe that will happen or that we're worried about it happening or not. I'm just throwing it out there as a possibility. Anybody wanna start a pool?
Saturday, October 15, 2005
I was very careful to make sure I got the back of my head this time, all the way to the nape of my neck, for when I put my hair up! Whee!
Have received all of my "cruise bling." Have all my formal clothes. Just need to send back the stuff I ordered and was TOO BIG because I have lost 17 POUNDS.
Now I just have to get to work on the actual packing list, hope no more named storms come up (although at this point if they do, it might just "extend" our cruise for free, which won't be a problem for me) and get ready to sip foofoo drinks on the lido deck.
Two weeks from today, I will wake up at my Mother-In-Law's in San Antonio, talk hubby into driving me up the street to Starbuck's for a nice iced venti nonfat sugarfree vanilla extra caramel caramel macchiato (mixed), have lunch at Bill Miller's BBQ, and hit the sack knowing the next day we'll be on a freakin' cruise ship.
What am I going to do for the 2 weeks I'm gone? I better find a guest blogger or something.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Here’s the dealio:
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.
I am not kidding.
This was the fifth sentence in the 23rd entry.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmm... now I have to think of 5 other folks to tag.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Just got upgraded to a balcony room on our cruise.
That means we have our own, private, balcony.
2 decks up from where we got moved to a few weeks ago.
Which is 2 decks up from where we were initially.
And we got a refund for the privilege (thank you, military discount).
We have a balcony.
I'm starting to freak out. Seriously.
Monday, October 10, 2005
I figured it out. Here he is. Click on him to hear him purr, and if you're not careful with your cursor he might just jump on it and try to eat it!
(found via Stale Betty) (and also via Mikey).
Friday, October 07, 2005
Rock out with your cock out.
If, uh, you have one.
Now the second fabulous news - to celebrate that, we're going for sushi tonight and I feel a huge load of stress has been lifted from me.
And to clarify -- I was considering just leaving the damned hoop out, because one of the reasons I don't take the hoop in and out of the spare hole in my left ear is because it HURTS when I do that. But now that S. has ordered me some stainless steel hoops, I will be putting one right the hell back in when they get here.
I'll just take it out for formal night.
Since I am going to put my hair up.
Since I learned how to do a french twist mostly by myself.
And it looks halfway good.
Ok. Must get back to work, so I am free to eat sushi and drink.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
It's a silver hoop and I have it in my left ear, in the one "extra" hole that I have on my entire body, which is the only piercing besides two "standard" earlobe piercings that I have.
And it's a cute little hoop, with a ball on it. Kinda looks like what you'd put in an eyebrow or a small bellybutton.
It's a very cute little hoop.
But today, I took it out.
I say I "took it out" because it has been "left in," except for periodic cleaning, since about uh, I don't know, years and years and years and years and years. My husband has never seen me without it in.
And I guess I'm not putting it back in.
So I'm now a 35 year-old gonna-be-a-mommmy-somewhere-down-the-road-I-hope self-employed businesswoman who's planning to take a cruise with her husband, and I no longer have a spare piercing in my left ear.
I guess I'll just tell myself it makes my head feel less lopsided.
//edit: S. just saw me looking all forlorn and ordered me a new stainless steel hoop w/ball for my "extra hole" and then a pair of them for my "regular holes." So after we get home from our cruise, I'll go back to looking like a hippie.
WHICH is a perfect segue to this:
They even have a "Military Boobies" section this year, with patriotic boobies in camo, flags, you name it. Go check all of them out, and donate to breast cancer research.
I would upload the button, but I'm having trouble logging in to the server to upload it. So bear with me. Thankyouverymuch.
Now, then, back to this cold front! Jeepers creepers! I couldn't even take my little bare toesies out onto the balcony for an extended stay this a.m., it's so frosty! Okay, so it's 51 degrees. That's frosty after a period of 90 degrees.
So I'm a wussy.
In other news, my shopping may very well be done!
I got asked (Manic, was that you?) to post pictures of the stuff, so I'll do my very best to do that. I also finished my jewelry shopping, with a set of Garnet earrings/pendant and a set of clear CZ pendant/earrings, so I can be all sparkly on formal night.
Now if I can just not kill the fucking lady who is a fucking evil control freak whore troll on the cruise board I read... lucky me, I found out she's on my sailing. And now she's more of a joy than ever.
Monday, October 03, 2005
As we pulled up to the Bricktown Events Center, a large brick building with a neon Coca-Cola sign flickering above the main entrance, we saw them gathering. Young, oldish, older. Long hair, short hair. Punk rockers with safety pins on their leather jackets and studded dog collars. Rotund geekboys with long ponytails, pop-bottle glasses and little goatees. Girls with purple hair. Guys going a little grey around the fringe. 20-somethings. 30-somethings. 40-somethings. All there for one reason.
I fell in love with Henry Rollins a long time ago, I think. I vaguely remember listening to the music of Black Flag, but not because it was something I liked especially. Didn't dislike it, of course. But hardcore punk music wasn't always my "bag." If I had to, I probably couldn't truly "remember" any of the songs. Just that it was occasionally part of the occasional punk stream of music that would come through my social circle. And when I did know who Black Flag was, I couldn't tell you who Henry Rollins was.
Then, the Rollins Band was born. I remember his bitter lyrics. I remember wondering how this "amazing little man" could manage to cram so much reality and emotion and bitterness and angst and truth and pain and evil and mean and rage and anger and seething blood-pumping RAW into his music. And I was recharged, and very nearly reborn. Here was a guy who wasn't afraid to spew forth his art, his reality, whether or not I liked it. And you know what? I liked it.
I had the pleasure of seeing Henry Rollins live in a spoken word show a couple of years ago, the first time that S. and I were separated for school. My friend Chris the Chef and I bought tickets and saw him in a small venue, the Celebrity Theatre in Phoenix. It's an in-the-round show most of the time, but was set up like an amphitheatre for Hank. And we went and got a couple beers before the show, settled in, and listened for two-and-one-half hours while Henry Rollins, this little musclebound slightly grey 42-and-not-afraid-to-be-42 year-old man spilled his guts and shared stories about his youth, his friends, his travels, his work, and shows about - well - doing shows. I had been a fan of his spoken word "stuff" from what I'd seen on video and heard on audio CD, but to see him in person made all the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck. It was really an amazing experience.
So you can imagine how excited I was when I found out he was coming to Oklahoma City and that we were going to get the chance to see him. Together.
We bought our tickets back in August - 2nd row. The Bricktown Events Center only holds 1200 people, so it was going to be an intimate venue no matter what. But 2nd row. Maybe I'd get spit on. You see, Henry has this little issue with spittle. He spits when he talks, when he gets all excited. And sometimes, if you're watching him on DVD and you get a good shot of his face, you can see how he gets a little bit of spit just barely in the right-side-corner of his mouth. You know. It happens to all of us.
So, as we made our way to Bricktown, I reviewed my Hank History in my own mind and we talked a little about what we expected out of the show, and what we were hoping for, and what we thought it would be like. Would we meet him? Could he sign our tickets? How many people would there be? We hadn't heard many advertisements for the show, so who knew how packed it was going to be?
We went up the street to a little sports bar and had a couple of beers before the show (apparently becoming a Hank tradition -- funny, since he doesn't drink but we seem to commemorate the occasion with a brew) and then made our way back to the venue by about 7:30. We bought a T-shirt (very vintage/retro, very cool football-jersey looking thing, I'll have to take a picture) and found our seats in the 2nd row. Yep. Close enough to get spit on.
I leaned over to S. and said, "So. Shorts or pants?" "Shorts," he said, "it's hot out." I whispered, "Naw, he'll be wearing pants." The black T-shirt is a given. It is always, always, a black T-shirt.
"How short will his hair be?" I looked at S. and rubbed the back of his freshly-shaven head. "Short as yours," I said. "No way," said Hubby, "it'll be like... that guy in front of you." I turned to see the man in Row A, Seat 9, directly in front of me, who was a tousle of brownish hair, wind-blown. "No way," I said, "that's too long. I think short like yours."
S. turned to his left, to see a salt-and-pepper man with what we affectionately call "chia pet head" (like a bad military haircut when it's all one length all over the man's head, with no distinction in length of hairs, all the same, about 1/4 inch long) and he said, "Nope, like this guy on the other side of me."
At 7:58, S. had to pee. Worst. Timing. Ever. I told him he'd never make it before the opening bell, but he had to try anyway. Of course, Hank came out while he was gone. Wearing long pants. And loafers. And a black T-shirt. And a freshly shaved head.
S. returned to his seat about 30 seconds into Hank's opening. I just leaned over, smiled sweetly, and said, "Pants. Shaved head. I win."
The next two-and-one-half hours was spent on a magical tour of the inside of Henry Rollins' brain. He regaled us with stories of the two women who work in his office in Los Angeles, and how they torture him and emasculate him on a daily basis. We heard of the "utilitarian hovel" that he calls home, his trip on the Trans-Siberian Railway where he encountered The Woman Of The People's Hallway and her hatchet, a meal that tasted worse coming up than going down, and Henry Rollins' Idea That If He Pushes His Body To Lengths No One Else Ever Would It Would Make Him A Better Man.
We learned about why he hates Los Angeles, how Ejaz the Cabby in New York City tried to woo him into moving to Pakistan, and "a couple of pages out of the Masculine Man's Handbook."
We heard of his multiple trips for the USO (Six VOLUNTARY trips in the last 20 months, to be exact, including Egypt, Iraq, Afghanistan, Q'aatar, Kuwait, and right here in the US of A) and his voluntary visits to the US military hospitals to see wounded troops. We heard him praise the men and women of this country's military - and their wives and mothers - and how he is chomping at the bit to go back again.
We cracked up laughing. We tingled and got goosebumps. We shared some very human moments. And through it all, S. and I held hands, snuggled up together, snickered and guffawed and sighed and inhaled in shock, shook our heads in disbelief and nodded in agreement, having had some of "those moments" ourselves.
And we would do it again in a heartbeat.
Henry Rollins is an amazing guy. And as a side note, for a 44 year old jaded bitter angst-filled cold-hearted pessimistic realistic true human being, he is soooooooooooo freaking hot... **sigh**. He's real. He brings it to you 100%. He tells you what he thinks, he says the things that people are afraid to say, he does the things that no one can possibly imagine doing, and he does all of it for himself. Because that's what it's about. Pushing himself and doing the extra things and going the extra mile and experiencing life and the world and LIVING.
Henry Rollins makes me want to live, too.
If you get the chance to see him, I highly recommend it. Take someone with you that you care about. For the price of a ticket, it's quite a journey. And you'll get hooked just like I was so many years ago.
Thank you, Hank.
24 days from now: we leave OKC for San Antonio.
16 days from now: FIL and MIL come for a stop-over visit on their way to somewhere else.
12 hours from now: We'll be in the 2nd row at Henry Rollins spoken word show.
15 minutes from now: my coffee will be brewed.
10 minutes from now: Gotta start working, so I have everything done by the time we leave tonight.
So yesterday, I found the perfect-est outfit! S. has such a great fashion sense. I seem to continually forget that, because he isn't particularly fashion-consicous. But when it comes down to helping me pick something out, dressing up nice, or something, he always comes through with flying colors and is completely awesome.
So yesterday we go to a local botique shop looking for something for me to pair with my black Carwash Pants, which are going to be on their way here this week, and we ended up finding something I wouldn't normally have thought to try... the top is white, with a deep plunging "V" neck (I love those, they give me incentive to show off my rack) and some very pretty, flowy, almost renaissance-like billowy sleeves. The beading on it is translucent and pearlescent, and very neutral.
This top will go perfectly with my black pants and it will also go great with my teal pants. And I can pair it with other things, too. I wouldn't even have picked it, but S. pulled it off the rack and asked me to try it on.
Also found a very pretty sparkly, more like shimmery, black V-neck tunic length sweater that will be great for the winter season and its various and sundry occasions.
Yeah, my shopping is just about done.
(Also bought a pair of docker's at the BX and got them in a size smaller than I thought I would need, which is nearly two sizes smaller than the last pair of pants I bought.)
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.
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess
I am currently pimping:
me @ consumating
I play Everquest II!
Iksar Necromancer, Kithicor
We're trying for a baby!
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