Reflections of Ari

Sad

2011-07-19T21:12:00.000-07:00

Looking through my blogroll, I realize just how many bloggers are no longer updating. It breaks my heart. I'm just as bad as updating as the next guy, though. I miss the community we had. Some people have switched to different blogs and I cannot even find them anymore.

I guess sometimes, life gets in the way. I just don't have it in my heart to delete the links. I guess that would feel like I am giving up on them. Maybe another day.

Finding Ari

2011-07-14T03:11:00.000-07:00

So for the past year and a half, my confidence has been chiseled away to almost nothing. For the last six months, I've been at an all-time low. And now, I'm ready to talk about it. Because yesterday, I found a little bit of myself that had gone missing.

My home life is great. I have a wonderful husband, who has been very supportive, even when I didn't recognize him for it. It was my work life that put me through hell. As of this time, I am not going to talk about where I worked or give specific names. They know who they are and frankly, it's just not the point of my post.

Before I truly begin, let me just put a few background details. I come from a family of strong women. I am not saying this to brag, but to illustrate why I felt like such a failure. I come from women that who have been through a lot, but in the end prevail. My women don't take crap from people. My women are ladylike and demure until pissed off and then we are lions. I was taught to be a lady. I was taught manners and etiquette. I was taught to be polite, but whether they realized it or not, the women in my family also showed me how to be strong and how to use my brains and wit to get me through. And yes, if provoked, we can get scrappy, too. (I think I once posted how my ninety-nine pound, four foot eight grandmother whipped a racist man with a wooden spoon when he refused to let my friend walk on "his sidewalk". THAT is an example of women I come from.)

I worked for this company for four years. I had been promoted numerous times, so that by the time I left I had done almost every job within. I knew that job inside and out. I was good at it. It usually is a male-dominated field, although I must say women are really starting to get into it. Before I had been promoted, no woman had done this particular job in the location I worked for. So, it felt good to lead the way, to be a pioneer for the other coworkers. When I was told by other coworkers that no woman would ever be promoted to that particular position, I proved them wrong. I showed them it could be done. Not only could it be done, but I was excelling at a rapid pace.

During my time, there were a few management replacements. None of this bothered me, because I was willing to work with anyone. I had the team with me. I don't like to say they were behind me, because I don't feel I am better than they are. They were with me. Up until my last year there, things were wonderful. I loved that job. I still do and miss it greatly.

My supervisor became annoyed at his own position. He began searching for new employment. There is nothing wrong with this. If he could find himself a more satisfying, higher paying job, I could understand leaving. The problems began when he stopped caring about his job. My work began to suffer, because I no longer had his support. I no longer had him coaching me (which was a part of his job). Not only did I not have his support, when I tried to lead my team without him, he would go right behind me and undermind everything I did. So, I asked a more senior manager to sit down and have a talk with the three of us. I got it off my chest. I told him I felt like his head wasn't in the game anymore. I told him I needed his support. Afterward, I felt much better. He promised to get it together. Little did I know, it wasn't going to be so easy.

After our talk with the more senior manager (who had agreed with everything I'd said), he held a grudge against me. He began to get really nasty with me. Not only with me, but with other women in the store that had "opposed" him, as well. He became very condescending and his remarks were always dripped with venom. He became close with the few male employees we had and with one female, in particular. I made a comment to management about how I noticed the two of them flirting a little too excessively. The senior manager came to me to ask what I'd noticed and to tell me that others had come forward and made the same comments. He denied everything; it was pushed under the rug, so to speak. But it was one more thing for him to hold a grudge.

He began belittling everything I did. Nothing I did was good enough. The previous year, he had done my review. I had the highest scores. Unbeknownst to me, he did my last review and it was scathing. This review was never given to me, personally. I only saw it after I had requested my employee file after I'd left the company. When I got my raise, if you can call it that, I had questioned why it was so little. No one would give me a straight answer. They kept telling me that I was probably "capped" at the max, because I'd done so well in the past. The real reason was because he had given me lowered scores.

I went to the senior manager multiple times about my supervisor. Everything under the sun was promised to me, but nothing was delivered. And it began to get progressively worse. A second manager began screaming at me for every little thing I did. He also had the gall to call me "girl". Apparently, that was my name. When I told him that I didn't like it, that not only was I a full-grown woman, but I had a name he could address me by, he ignored it. He still called me "girl" up until the day I left, even after he'd been asked by senior management to stop. I had gone to senior management, who was ready to dismiss my issue with being called "girl" until I asked him if he'd like to be called "boy." Come here, boy. He looked me straight in the face and said he would not like it and I was to never do it.

My supervisor began taking cues from the second manager and began screaming at me, as well. The last time it happened, he was screaming at me in plain view of everyone. It was demoralizing, humiliating and degrading. He actually began jumping up and down, waving his arms. He also began talking about guy power with a raised fist. I felt so helpless. I felt like no one would listen. The only people that understood were the other women, who supported me and backed me. They said they had my back. And even after I complained to the EEOC, they were solidly with me and would testify on my behalf.

And eventually, I put in my two weeks notice. I felt like such a failure. No one would listen. Those before me that had complained to HR were either badgered by management until they quit or somehow they were fired over one reason or another. When I had tried to fight for myself, I was talked down to. I was talked over and interupted. I was verbally beaten until I felt like I had no voice left. I felt like I could scream and scream about what was happening, but no one could hear me.

After I left, the very woman that my supervisor had been flirting with was promoted to my position. My supervisor left a few months later and now they are dating. The company had had a third party hotline that one could call for such issues and I did. Whatever became of that investigation, I will never know. I was never contacted about it again.

Seven months of not working for that company, seven months of worrying, seven months of feeling dejected and deflated, seven months later, the EEOC steps in for a fact-finding conference. That was yesterday. I spent the night before lying in bed unable to sleep. I had asked some of my coworkers to come with me for moral support, but all had refused. I had read the sheet. The company would have four people there. I was going in alone. I spent the night going over everything in my head. I prepared all my paperwork. I got all my ducks in a row. Yesterday morning, I felt like I would be sick any minute. I thought, I could punk out and just ask for a settlement right away and get it over with. I could just drop it and take the easy way out. But I didn't.

So I went in and there were only two of them with a lawyer who was on the speakerphone. I had an entire briefcase of facts ready to go. It was all down on paper. They sat with a telephone in front of them. No paperwork, not even so much as a pen to write with. And then I told my side. I got it all out. I watched in fascination as they squirmed in their seats. These were the same people that would scream in my face? These were the tough guys? They didn't look so tough now that they might be held accountable. Red-faced and tight-lipped, they sat through what I said. They were given a chance to offer up their side, but there were nothing but flimsly excuses (which I carefully wrote down). When I got a chance to add comments, I rebuttled their excuses. They had nothing else to say. There was no real outcome. It is still being determined. She took what we said and we will get the results later on down the road. But I don't care what the results say.

I held my ground. I took what they said and gave facts back. I didn't need a lawyer to do that for me. When you are armed with the truth, there is no need for a lawyer. I already knew the truth. They couldn't rebuttle what I'd said. They had no answer. I looked them in the face and saw them for what they are. I've already won. All those months feeling as if something were robbed of me, I thought it had been my job, but it wasn't that. I was robbed of my voice. I was robbed of a little piece of myself. And yesterday, I took it back. I can't tell you the feeling I had when I left the building. Chances are this will all go away for them. Chances are nothing will ever come from this. I don't know. But I've already gotten back something far more precious than that company could ever give me. I won back myself. I don't have that doubt anymore. I did nothing wrong. I never failed at all.

If it is true that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, then I suppose I will end up being a diamond after all. And somewhere up there, I think my grandmother must have smiled.

Disgusted

2011-07-05T19:34:00.000-07:00

I see we have not strayed so far from our Puritanical roots. How easy it is to be judge, jury and executioner when you will not have to be held accountable for it. Kind of a hypocritical mentality, given that we have so many crying "murderer." What should we have done? Scream "Burn the witch!" and set her on fire based on public opinion?

A child is dead, sadly so. But she was dead yesterday and no one left their lights on for her then. She's been dead for three years... Why are you only now reacting? Oh, it's because you are not mourning the death of this pretty baby. You are mourning the fact that you didn't get to see someone else get sentenced to die based on no evidence or motive. Mob mentality at its finest. Convicting and sentencing someone to die in such a manner is just as bad as little Caylee's murderer. How amazing is it that people that scoff at the idea of the death penalty will so freely run to it the first chance they get?

I wonder how many babes have gone in the last three years that weren't cute, white Caylee Anthony. Babes that weren't given a voice or even a chance for their murders to be solved. And no one leaves a light for them...

Tales Of The Strange But True

2011-06-25T20:40:00.000-07:00

I've always stated that I never did mind the rain. Well, I'd like to amend that. I never did mind the rain, UNLESS I am trying to have a yard sale. And then for some reason, it always seems to rain.

Nevertheless, while having said yard sale, a customer came up and went crazy over these baby toys. They were toys that had a bunch of buttons and gadgets on them meant to develop a baby's motor skills. She then asked if we had rattles, so my friend brought her an entire bag of them.

"This is great, " she said, "My raccoons are gonna love these!"

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I am prone to watching reality job shows. I watch "Billy the Exterminator" and "True Stories from the ER", because I find this fascinating to see what goes on. (I also watch Hoarders, but this is futile, because I always end up wanting to shake the person. Just let it go! It's a rotting pumpkin, let it go! I digress.)

On one of the episodes of the ER show, this homeless man came in with his one leg entirely covered in -- if you are squeamish, stop reading now, because I was gagging watching this -- maggots. Now I'm not talking little tiny maggots; I am talking full-on, half inch, really fat maggots. His leg looked like it was pulsating. I was horrified for the man. So, how did this happen? Well, apparently, he'd had some sort of cut on his leg. A fly laid some larvae, or whatever it is that flies to do (I am non-scientific, sorry.) in the wound. The maggots go after dead skin and bacteria and gobble it on up. The doctor has a few nurses help the man clean up in the shower. The doctor makes a comment to the camera about how he thinks they might have to amputate.

Now this is the amazing part. They help him take a shower, the doctor comes back and voila! All the maggots are gone, his leg is perfectly fine. It was only a tiny cut and the cut is healing wonderfully. The maggots actually helped the guy stave off infection. Those maggots may well have saved his life. Crazy, but true.

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This one is a bit more personal. I can feel what other people feel. Sometimes, I can cue in to what they are thinking. This leads to a lot of long silences, followed by my saying something off topic the exact time someone else does. I can tell most of the time when people are lieing to me. But it is the emotional feeling that really gets to me. If someone is excited or happy, I actually feel a burst of fuzziness in my chest. (I don't know how else to explain it. It feels like a happy ... fuzzy feeling.) If someone cries, even if I don't know them or why they are crying, I will cry too.

It's more than just being able to read a person. Sometimes, I will get so angry and I have to stop and gauge whether or not I am really angry or if I'm feeding off of someone else's negative energy. I have to sit and think about it. Why am I suddenly angry? I was having a perfectly fine day. And then the heated feeling and tightness in my chest goes away. (Unless I am truly angry for a reason and then I stay mad FOREVER. Heheh, or at least it feels that way.)

I only began to notice this within the past few years. Or at least, I began noticing that other people didn't feel this way too. For example, at work one of my managers would always come to me to vent. And he would say the same types of things over and over, like "I don't know why she reacted that way." or "What was his problem?!" And I would explain to him that while he was perfectly friendly and using a nice voice, he was projecting superiority. Everyone can sense that and it doesn't feel good to be on the receiving end of it. No one likes to be made to feel as if they aren't as good as you. His answer was always the same, "But I never said anything wrong and I was so nice to them!" Yeah, that might be true. He may have been friendly on the outside, but on the inside, I could almost hear his condescending thoughts as if he'd said them out loud. And in retail, a customer can pick up on negative vibes from a salesperson in a heartbeat.

People would also call in sick and I knew immediately if they were telling the truth. Surprisingly, a lot of the time they were. There were a few where I was thinking, "Uh huh, sure." But for the most part, people were pretty honest about it. I can back that up, because usually when they came back to work, I caught whatever they had, only I hardly ever called in. Sigh. Don't do that. If you're sick, call in. No job is worth working when you feel miserable.

Anyway, I don't believe this is a special ability or anything. I think I just watch people enough that I can guess their motives or how they feel. I don't know why I feel what they feel, other than sympathy. But I can say that I don't like crowded places. It's hard to block all that out. It feels like energy being sapped from you. So, most times, I stay at home. Safe!

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This tale was passed down to me by family, so I don't know all of the exact details. When my mother was growing up, they lived next to a family that had a boy and a girl. The boy was older and he was mentally handicapped. He didn't talk very well, if at all, if I remember correctly. The girl was younger, maybe six or seven years old. Now this was a long time ago, when you could leave your house unlocked and let your kids walk to the park unsupervised. My aunt, who was also six or seven at the time, went with the neighbor girl to the park. They snuck out, after being told they were not allowed to go.

The older boy was at home in the back yard. They were having a cookout, so most of the family was there with him. I guess with all the people in the backyard, no one noticed the two girls missing. Suddenly, the boy let out a loud shriek and began calling his sister's name over and over, crying hysterically. The parents could not calm him down. A few minutes later, officers came to the door to tell the parents that the two girls had been hit by a car, trying to cross the busy street. My aunt was injured, but recovered. The little girl, however, died.

Now there was no way the little boy could have seen his sister, as the point they were hit was too far from the house to be seen. Besides, he was in the back yard. But somehow he knew, even though he wasn't able to express it in words, he knew something had happened to his sister. I often think that mentally disabled people have special abilities that we don't have. They function on a different level. And maybe that level is higher than we think it is.

It's May!?

2011-05-06T14:15:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's halfway into the year and I've yet to post anything. Probably because if I think of something I want to say, I just put it up on Facebook. Become a bit of a FB junkie, I have. Oh well.

Let's see, what's changed? I don't work for that horrid company anymore. My life has been a lot more stress free because of it. I just need to find myself the right job, though. I didn't really think it'd take me this long to find a replacement. So, my ego took a little hit on that one.

Still looking for good horror movies. I've been watching a ton of asian horror, thanks to Netflix. If you don't have a subscription, you just don't understand. I don't think I'll ever go back to not having Netflix. All those movies on demand? I almost feel like I'm stealing! Bad part is that watching normal television has become obsolete, due to the fact that I can no longer be patient during commercials. If I watch a show, it's usually the first ten minutes of it, then when it gets to the commercial... why am I watching commercials? I have Netflix! And off I go.

I want to move to North Carolina. Nay. I NEED to move to North Carolina. This city full of old people and shitheads can do without me. People that say they love Quincy are either in the early stages of dementia or are quite possibly high. Reminds me of this customer I once had... One of these days, I will do an entire post on all the different customers. Oh, I have to be feeling humorous to write about it, but you won't believe what I will say. It has to do with bodily fluids. Oh no, I won't elaborate. You will just have to wait for it.

Hmm, nothing else I can think of .... So, I'll end it here. Man, I need to work on my closings.

Lately

2010-12-07T21:49:00.000-08:00

I made the mistake of registering at a site to see if I would qualify for grants to go back to school. I was merely curious, because it is something that has always haunted me. I want to finish my studies. Not two minutes after I registered at the site, (I hadn't even gotten off the webpage yet) I began receiving calls from college recruiters. And it went on all day long, until I shut my phone off and let it all go to voicemail. Man, they are a lot quicker than they used to be. I remember waiting for details from colleges in the mail when I went to school. Now they instantly qualify you and hound you to enroll. Um, ya know, I just don't have $75,000 at the moment... I was just curious!!! They never did tell me if I qualified for any grants.

My life has been a bit topsy turvy lately. I find myself deflated and demoralized. I think I will go into why, but not just yet. Normally, in hard situations, I wallow a bit (okay a lot), then pick myself up and move on. I am a fighter. But this time, fighting back involves a long legal process... it's so overwhelming. I think I shall wait to go into it when I am more levelheaded, but I will say that being in an abusive work environment is much like being in an abusive marriage. Although, I've never been in an abusive marriage, so my opinion may not be valid. Either way, I feel that I will move on from this a better person, if not a tougher one.

I am in a pretty good mood at this very moment in time. Now that could all change in a matter of minutes, where I could end up a weepy Ari, mourning the fact that justice can be truly blind. But at this moment, I am okay.

As a mother, I am finding myself in more of a coach mode. When your child is young, you tend to tell them like it is. This will be done, because I say so, etc. But when they are at an age of reason, I think it is better to let them come to their own conclusions. So while I may still guide my son, I prefer to ask him what he thinks and feels, so that he may think for himself and be able to make his own decisions. Everyone calls him "the little man", because he is like an adult in miniature form... well except when he decides to go on a farting binge. He is just twelve, you know.

We tend to have more elaborate discussions on life, politics, religion, pretty much anything you would discuss with another adult. I think he likes this, because it gives him a chance to voice himself. I like it, because sometimes he will say something so profound, I have to stop and check myself. And if we get into a discussion upon history... well forget it, I lose. I suck at history. I will just let him do all the talking in the event that I might understand or learn something new. I am in awe of how he will watch the news and make comments about it. Or how two strangers can be talking about politics and he will interject to tell them why they are wrong. Not only would I never have been so bold as to interupt adults as a child, I certainly never would have been able to keep up. He is becoming quite an amazing young man, which only makes me even prouder.

Sister Wives

2010-10-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, let me just start by taking a deep breath. *sigh in and sigh out* Yes, I really do have to do that even just to write this, because I feel like I just entered another dimension. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but I will tell you now: I am not perfect. As if you couldn't tell, heh. I know I am not perfect, not by any means. No one is. And I try hard not to be judgemental of others (one of my faults), but I just cannot hold my tongue on this.

I am not part of the Fundamentalist Mormons as seen on tv. I could never be. I just don't have that in me. I am too outspoken, loud, jealous, and downright mouthy to ever be in a plural marriage and because I value myself more than that. (Oh, there goes that judgemental thing again.) But honestly, I say that because I look at myself and my husband's relationship, our intimacy, our love, our commitment to each other and I value THAT. I just cannot ever see how that could be when more than two people are involved.

I don't see it in this "Sister Wives" program, either. Oh, I get the four women. I get their lifestyle, how they interact with each other, their feelings, their relationship, that's easy. They definitely are a sisterhood. I love that about them. They are very patient and loving with one another, even when they are feeling jealous. It's when the husband comes in that I start feeling a wee bit queasy. First of all, he is ... not that easy to look at. I don't mean that in a vain way. It's just that he gives off a not-all-quite-there-but-very-cheesy vibe. If that makes sense. I am not talking about his looks, per se. Because to look at him, eh, he's okay, but when he opens his mouth, oh my... well, one has to wonder if he swallowed paint chips as a child.

I found myself getting angry when Meri (wife #1) tells him of her feelings of jealousy over the upcoming addition to wife #4 and his reaction is "Oh let's have a baby." Um, really? He does know that women have more to them than baby-making parts, right? I can see he tries to empathize with them, but in all honesty, I don't think it matters. He's just going to go ahead and do what he wants anyway, regardless of anyone's feelings but his own. The wives are the ones left to change and adapt to HIS needs. What about theirs?

This is not marriage. Marriage is about teamwork and commitment. Marriage is about love and fidelity. Marriage is fifty/fifty. Each gives and takes. The women have it down. If it were just them, I'd say they would be better off being married to each other without him. Because when they speak to each, they acknowledge and understand. But whenever they speak in his presence, he gets this bewildered and confused look, as if he didn't realize they knew how to speak. And what are those sounds coming out of her throat? Words? Nooooo, that can't be. Better let him go flip his Gary Busey looking hair a few more times.

Maybe I am just being overly judgemental. This is entirely possible, but I just don't understand the appeal of this lifestyle GIVEN the example of the man partaking in it. He is a sorry excuse for a monkey, let alone a male human. And this is the part where I have to say, "Ari, this is not your life. You don't have to understand it." And this is oh, so true. I don't have to understand their lifestyle or believe in it. I don't even have to watch it. So instead, I can just change the channel and sigh. To each their own.

Woebegone

2010-09-02T20:23:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm in such a slump lately. I hate it when people disappoint me. Once that happens, it's extremely hard for me to ever think of them the same way again, because in the back of my mind is always that disappointment. I can forgive a lot, but after so long, one can only forgive so much.

I just don't feel like myself. I feel like a shell. And the real Ari is in there screaming on the inside, but I can't really project that out without losing myself in it completely. And my words would be like knives cutting and slashing without remorse or control. It's not worth it to let it out.

I hate my house. I hate this job. I hate the city I live in. I hate that my laughs are becoming more and more forced. I hate that my body won't work with me. I hate charlie horses. I hate that no one really listens to me, but instead assumes what I will say or think. I hate that I am so fed up of everything. I hate that I don't know what to do about it other than to just LIVE it. I hate that I try so hard for people that don't care at all. I hate that my good intentions aren't seen. I hate that no one ever allows me to fail.

I feel so tired, but I sleep so much. I wake up feeling more tired than before I slept. I hate not being happy.

Ground Zero

2010-08-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

In lieu of giving a verbal beatdown to the random internet populace (Oops, sorry stupid poster on Slate!) I choose to express myself here. Or at least, I will NOW express myself here, as I can express myself fully without interuption from either side of the issue. Oh I most certainly DO take a side in this, don't get me wrong, but I am willing to listen to the other side. I can only listen to whining for so long, though.

You want to erect a mosque? Fine. Cool, I'm down with it. You want to erect a mosque two blocks away from Ground Zero? Oh hell no. I don't care how little room is available in New York. I don't care that it's perfectly legal, because it's morally reprehensible. Would southern Baptists like to have KKK members burning crosses two blocks from their church? Um, no. Would Jews want the Aryan Nation to have a "community center" two blocks away from their synagogue? No! Why? Because to them, it is holy ground. It is their sacred place, as it should be. And for all Americans, Ground Zero should be sacred. It IS sacred ground.

Erecting a mosque there is a slap in the face to all the innocent victims (living and dead) of September 11th. Why does it have to be THERE? It doesn't. It just makes me wonder why it has to be there, other than to declare some sort of victory in the US. Bomb their buildings and put a mosque. AND WE TOLERATE THIS?!

I am sick and tired of reading crap like this. I am sick and tired of keeping my mouth shut. The part that makes me the most sick is that some Americans DO NOT CARE. Oh, if there is ever any way to get me riled up, it is apathy. It is not the Muslim community that makes me as angry (although their location choice really was in poor taste) as the fact that people will sit and do nothing about it. We let these things happen. It is much easier to turn the channel than to form an opinion. It is much easier to keep quiet than it is to voice what is right.

To me, putting a mosque there is akin to graffitying a grave. It is sick. It does nothing, but put a bad reputation on a religion that already has enough bad press as it is. I don't condone it and I'm saying it loud and clear, even if you don't agree or don't like me for it. The radicals of Islam are rejoicing, believe me. I mean, if you really want to put up a mosque that teaches tolerance, why not do it in Palestine or Afghanistan? There's a place that actually needs it. If you want to teach tolerance, why not start with your own religion?? Why not tell your radicals to stop flying planes into our buildings? Or bombing random spots in Europe and actually all over the world?

I mean, what's the excuse here? No room in New York? This is the United States of America! It has 103671742065706.34375 square feet! Pick a spot NOT two blocks from Ground Zero! Sigh, only in America.

Waiting To Yelp

2010-06-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

I must be in a whiny mood here lately. I don't know. In an effort to try and scare myself, I tried to do a search on the scariest movies of all time. The result was the normal drivel with random viewers hailing movies like The Shining, Psycho and The Exorcist as greatest of all time. I'm sorry, but no.

I'm pretty sure that "Here's Johnny" was supposed to be a comedic line. And if it wasn't, I'm sorry, but I laughed even at eight years old when I first saw it. And Linda Blair's head spinning, then vomitting pea soup? How is that not funny? It's hilarious. Pscyho, Norman Bates, his mother, the shower scene...all iconic images from the past. But they never scared me once. They are great movies, don't get me wrong. They're just not scary. I am not hiding under the covers for fear that Linda Blair or Jack Nicholson are gonna come get me. It won't happen.

My husband refuses to go into the ocean (despite being a Navy vet of thirty years) because of a deep seeded fear of sharks, thanks to Peter Benchley and Jaws. I don't know about you, but as a kid I rooted for the shark. Not scary. If anything, it's more fascinating for me, but I was the girl that looked forward (and still does) to Shark Week on the Discovery Channel.

Michael Myers? Boring and slow. Freddy Kreuger? Yeah, scary when I was a kid, but not so much now. Jason Voorhies? Overdone to the point that he's just a big mass of hulking ... flesh with a hockey mask. Not scary. Pinhead from Hellraiser? Interesting, but no. Scream? Pfft, whatever.

Now there are scary movies that got it right. I did hide under my covers thinking Freddy Kreuger would come get me. It did scare me. I remember the hair standing up on the back of my neck when I first saw that movie. I remember my heart pounding. It doesn't happen when I watch the movie now, mostly because I am grown. But it's still a favorite in my heart of hearts, because I can remember the fear I had.

I used to position my body in front of the tv, so that I lied parallel to the set with my hand supporting my head. There was a movie that came out called "Xtro". That birthing scene made me back away from the television until I made it to the couch to watch from there. I think that scene would still hold up as truly disturbing. I haven't seen the movie in over twenty-five years (give or take) and that scene has stuck with me the whole time, even though I only saw it once. That's when you know it's bad.

The original The Hills Have Eyes was another movie I watched. Funny thing about this one, I didn't know what I was going to watch when I pulled the vhs tape out of the back of the entertainment center. Somehow, it had gotten pushed all the way to the back so that no one had ever really watched it. I had never heard of it, so I put it in the vcr and bam. About forty-five minutes into it, I was more than wee bit uncomfortable. That might be a bit much for a child to see. The remake just does not do it justice. The original is way more horrifying. It's the same with Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Still scary to this day.

I have seen foreign horror. Usually they move at a much slower pace. I don't mind this, but sometimes the pay off isn't worth it. I won't be scared until you give me something to be scared of. It's just that simple. Anyway, I think I have given up on horror. Nothing I have seen lately has scared me the way it used to when I was little. I guess when you grow up, you lose that innocence and naivety.

I will say that although not scary at all, Shutter Island was a really fun movie to watch. I enjoyed it, even if I guessed the plotline twenty minutes into it. Maybe I'll just keep trying and eventually Hollywood will get it right and produce something ORIGINAL and truly horrifying enough to keep me awake at night thinking about it. Until then, I'll stick to the horror game genre.

Somebody's Messing With The Gene Pool

2010-06-19T10:49:00.000-07:00

Recently, I used the word "facetious" to my coworkers. They all gave me a strange look, then one of them had a realization. "Oh, she's speaking french, again," they said. Sometimes, I have to wonder if I belong at this job.

Someone asked me for a wireless cable this week. Uh, yeah.

Playing family feud, the question is: "What is living in your home that doesn't pay rent?" I tried mother, father, sibling... no none of those were on there. Four people actually had the audacity to say mold. Really? Is mold that big of a problem that you would include that over your mother?

I realize I'm an idiot for even watching this show, but I just cannot help myself. Why is Olivia Palermo even still employed at Elle? I mean, really. She does nothing. She contributes nothing. She is snooty as can be. She's not that cute and she really needs to eat something. Maybe that's why she has such an acidic personality. I sincerely hope she never breeds or reproduces asexually. I have a feeling one day, she just might divide in two and then we are all doomed.

It's one thing when you are texting and you use emoticons or textspeak. It's another when you are actually speaking, using your mouth and throat to produce sounds. Do not actually say "OMG or LOL". It makes you sound ridiculous. Especially when you say, "ROFLMAO." Sigh. Is it possible for humans to de-evolve? I submit that it is. The neanderthal is making a comeback.

Lattice multiplication is not real multiplication and should never be taught to our children. It's a lazy man's way of getting the right answer, but somewhere along the line, children will need to be taught the correct way to multiply double and triple digits. I do NOT go along with the thought that "As long as they got the right answer, it doesn't matter how they produced it." YES IT DOES!!!

Memo to Lady Gaga: You are not Madonna. Why would you even want to be? Knock it off.

The Power Of Music

2010-05-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

This isn't some soul-searching post about my life and how music has affected me or anything like that. I just feel like writing about music, or rather, music theory.

I was sitting in church yesterday, bumbling through a hymn, when it occurred to me that I was not the only one fumbling the ball here. This particular hymn was not well known, so only the people who really knew music were able to get through it prettily. The rest of us were just a wee bit flat on more than a few tricky notes. And that's okay. But wouldn't it be nice if music were taught just as much as english or mathematics?

English is english; math is merely a language using numbers. And music theory is simply a language that's sung according to the symbols they represent. Oh I know that children are taught rudimentary theory in school, but it's treated as an add-on class. No child really fails music. Not on an elementary level, anyway.

I was lucky that I was taught by a very wonderful musician. I think he could have made his living as a pianist, so I do not know why he chose to teach. I am grateful that he did. Not only did he teach simple music theory, but he would choose different kids at random to sing music he had selected. If they knew how to read music, they could sing it. If they did not know, they bumbled through it. We had to sing every note as "La".

After elementary school, my junior high and high school music teachers were wonderful, as well. My high school teacher was very strict about reading music. She had advanced singing classes, but you could not take them unless you passed the singing test. She would select a piece and you would sing it without accompaniment (that word looks wrong, someone help). Somehow, I breezed through this. I made it to the advanced levels. The students in these classes got to do some really great things. We sang at the Liberty Bowl, we sang back up for a Christmas concert for Peobo Brison, Roberta Flack. Two of my classes in my high school schedule were choir classes, I enjoyed it so much.

I can still read music. I have not been taught piano at all, but my Chris bought me a keyboard a few years back. I taught myself to play some simple tunes on it, merely by the music theory I had been taught in school. I do not know if my finger placement is correct or any piano technique at all. But I can play the notes that are there. Mind you, it took me countless hours of practice and figuring out sheet music just to be able to do something simple like "When the Saints Go Marching In". But I was teaching myself, and I am still proud that I learned how to do it.

I haven't played in a long time. I've probably forgotten how to play those tunes by now. I'm sure if I sat down, it'd probably come back to me. I do know that sitting in church reading unknown music has made me realize I am a bit rusty. I always marveled at how my Chris would just bellow out the notes without even really needing the music, until yesterday when he sat quietly next to me. I realized that he only knew the notes from having sung the hymns so many times. He didn't know how to read the music. I know this sounds so silly and dumb, but I was shocked. My Chris knows how to play guitar. He sings at the drop of a hat. I thought he knew!

I wish they would teach more theory in school. Not as an add-on, but as a necessity. Art, as well. I think we should encourage our children to explore their creative side. And theory is just one extra tool they can use to do it.

Here Are My Thoughts

2010-05-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

This is my adorable brother with his ex (a.k.a. the dirty sanchez beast) cut out of it. I don't like her and am very glad I don't have to see her in the picture. That's all for now.

Hugs and kisses,

Ari

Sunny Days Aren't Worth It

2010-04-17T13:16:00.000-07:00

It's lovely weather outside today. I wanted to enjoy it, but as we all know, it is hard for me to disconnect from some type of electronic device. So my Chris went and bought me a table for our patio. Now I am outside typing this lovely entry on my laptop.

I was just wearing a long t-shirt, but the neighbor kid decided to stop by, so I went in and put shorts on. It is a little chilly, but I wanted to wear shorts, because these particular shorts look cute on me. So I brought out a blanket to wrap lay gently on my legs.

I realized that being outside, it would be hard for me to hear if the phone rang. So, I brought my cell phone out to sit beside me. Even though I am trying very hard to quit smoking, I brought those out too, in case the need for nicotine became too great. Obviously, I already have the Mt. Dew, as well.

The dogs, who are not used to me sitting out here, became bothersome, being that they wanted me to pet them. I cannot pet them and type at the same time. They are now inside. My Chris, having finished the yard work, decided he would go inside too... Even though, I thought he'd like to sit outside with me and enjoy this weather. Apparently, watching me type is just not that exciting for him.

Kade went to a friend's house. No one is calling me. I have no tv to distract my attention, just this bee who wants my soda. This blanket keeps falling off my lap and the wind is really starting to pick up. I shouldn't be smoking anyway, so...

I'm going back in.

And My Chris Actually Stayed Awake

2010-04-04T18:22:00.000-07:00

Just saw Clash of the Titans in 3D. Awesome! It's so good. And you know I rarely enjoy an overly hyped movie, but I loved it.

Facebook Addict

2010-03-30T20:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, now I get it.

The Arrival Of Jane

2010-03-20T20:53:00.000-07:00

I don't understand Facebook and all that it entails. I have a blog and that is enough for me. If it's important enough to write about, then I will write a full length essay on it. Why? Because I don't feel it's necessary to update people every few seconds, or to see what every single person that is connected to an individual is doing at that moment in time. I just don't get it...

So, I made a Facebook account. I guess I just didn't understand that Facebook is really about YOU and your life, and all those people connected to you. So I made a fake name, more like an avatar or username. And I called her Jane. I didn't realize everyone used their real names. That just seems so dangerous to me. Anonymity is my friend.

Unfortunately, Jane has no friends. Mostly, because no one knows it's me. It doesn't help that I gave her a really fake last name. I tried to use Doe, but Facebook does not allow that. Apologies to any Doppleopagus' out there. That name just sounds so awesome, I had to use it. Yes, my Facebook account name is Jane Doppleopagus. *curtsy* I sent a message to my husband, who does use his real name. I told him I thought he was sexy. All his women friends were aghast that Jane would hit on a married man. He had to delete my comment. He then came upstairs to tell me someone thought he was sexy, but he had no idea who. He was worried, until I asked about Jane. That Jane, I tell ya. You gotta watch her.

Now fast forward a few months. I usually log into a site, but do not log out of it. So, I kinda forgot that I am Jane. I had to send my mother a message. I decided to use Facebook just for the fun of it. She did not invite me as her friend. There is no love for Jane. I ended up having to call her to tell her that my Facebook name is Jane, so that she would accept my friend request. But that totally missed the point, because when I called her, I just went ahead and told her what I needed to tell her. So, really there is no point to Facebook for me.

**Update** I figured out how to change my name. Unfortunately, you have to put in a request to Facebook in order to do that. Wouldn't that just shit the bit if they refused me?

This Apple Fell And Rolled Away From The Tree

2010-02-17T07:14:00.000-08:00

Hi, my name is Ari and my husband is a family tree addict. That is, he is addicted to geneology. Usually, if there were a riddle or puzzle to be solved, Kade and I would be right on that. But my Chris, having been tasked with the ever-challenging question of "who are my great grandparents and their parents?", has devoted every effort to answer this question. It's a weird question. Most people know their family. My family is riddled with secrets and "Oh, we don't talk about that" nonsense.

He has searched almost every record. And he is figuring out my family tree, slowly, but it takes hours and hours. And even then, we just aren't sure. When you have a stubborn family that fights with each other enough to make one change their surname, it gets complicated. Also, in my family, no one calls each other by their real name. So the woman that I lovingly called "Aunt Polly" will never be found on any record as that name. Her real name was Radine or something weird like that. How do you get Polly out of that?! That and the fact that a few them went crazy at the end. When they told crazy deathbed stories, are you supposed to believe them? I mean, hairspray-drinking crazy people. I am not even lieing; I will never forget that 'til the day I die. One of them sprayed hairspray into the hairspray cap and drank it like it was orange juice. I am pretty sure that one was schizophrenic, but still. That's an odd sight for a ten year old Ari.

My Chris is spending hours upon hours searching census records and looking up headstones. At some point, I think every person in my family gave up on that. I don't have a family tree, I have a maze of vines. You ain't cutting through that. Unless you are my Chris. Who has somehow gotten my tree back to the 1700's. I think he missed his calling. I really think he should have been a detective.

So, he starts doing his own family tree. Heh. Oh, I have never seen some of these names before. Novazerula. That was a first name! Her last name was Smith! Sounds more like a place to me. "Come enjoy the vast breathtaking scenery of Novazerula on your next vacation!" Hehehe. Oh me. I wonder what my greatgrandchildren will think if they ever try to look me up on the family tree. "She was a gun-toting video game addict who enjoyed screaming at her bosses and long walks on the beach..."

If I Won The Lotto

2010-02-12T21:35:00.000-08:00

I would pay off all my debt.
I would buy a house in North Carolina with a bowling alley installed for my son (who sucks at it, bless his heart).
I would give homeless people money.
I would send my Mom and Stepdad on a cruise.
I would buy my husband his own muddy hilly, cliffy land where he may off-road as much as he would like. The trees would be padded, of course.
I would build myself a gaming room, completely black with an entire wall that would be nothing but a television (it's MY money) and only a seat in the center of the room. This seat would be customized to my ass, so that no one else may sit there. The walls would be speakers. Also, there would be a button on the armchair of the seat that would call someone to bring me a Mt. Dew, so that I would not become too dehydrated.
I've really thought all this out.
I would be the best tipper ever.
I would have a dog trainer come to train my dogs that they DO NOT HAVE to sit on my lap everytime they come into the living room. Sasha weighs 80 lbs! Lardo! I can't even see the tv.
I would totally have a maid. Er, no, I'd have a whole crew. And they would only clean one day a week, but they'd have to clean it ALL. Then, get out, because I hate having people at my house. But I would let them have bowling breaks. And feed them with calzone parties. I'd be a hoot to work for.
I would learn to enjoy a lollipop, because I am not a patient person.
Taco Bell would learn to deliver to my house, even if I didn't order anything. Because if someone showed up at my door with a chalupa, I don't care, I ain't turning that down.
I would buy a production company, but none of my movies will have any of the following: Julia Roberts, Susan Surandon, Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Steven Seagal, Cameron Diaz, George Clooney or Demi Moore, because they annoy me. My movies will have at least a cameo of Christopher Walken, because he should be in every movie, Sean Connery (or his voice at least), Bruce Willis, Bruce Willis, and Bruce Willis, Samuel L. Jackson, Ving Rhames and Mark Wahlberg. I don't why, but he has a boyish innocence to him, that Mark.
If I broke a glass baking dish on the stove, because I set it on the wrong burner, who cares? I could easily buy a new one. Or five, because they break a lot in my house.
Work clothes would be a thing of the past.
Sasha would have a cow hoof every week. She can eat one in five minutes, but if I gave her one every day, man I'd never be able to breathe when she sat on me. Angel does not get a cow hoof, given that it is bigger than she is. But I would pay that dog trainer to go through the Kibbles 'n Bits to pick out all the chicken pieces for her, since those are the only ones she will eat.
And you think I'm spoiled?
Kade would get new Tony Hawk socks every single day, since he manages to put a hole in them EVERY SINGLE DAY.
I would pay someone to punch Julia Roberts. I know that's not nice and I shouldn't be like that, but her ego is amazing and she has it coming. Either that or Barbara Streisand. I don't like her either.
Oh and Christian Bale! He so needs sucker-punched!
I would pay someone to punch me, too. Not because I don't like myself, but I want to know if I will be quick enough to dodge that shit. Ya know, keep up on the reflexes and all that jazz.
Remember, I am a perfect shot.
And lastly, I would randomly call people just to see if I could make them laugh. I hate people, but maybe they wouldn't be so bad if they'd just laugh once in awhile.
None of this will ever happen. Even on the rare chance that I get a Lotto ticket, I always forget to check the numbers. So I've probably already won and never even known it.

Apple Crisp Jars And Late Night Serenades

2010-01-23T22:50:00.000-08:00

So this woman is in an advertising meeting. She's just come up with a brilliant marketing strategy for one of her company's clients. She's decided to sell apple/cherry crisp pie in a jar with the crust lining the jar and the filling going inside of it. Everyone is celebrating this weird idea of hers. To me, it looked like one of those candles in a jar until she opened it. The entire staff starts dancing around eating the pies out of the jars with spoons. The jars look like adult baby food to me.

A man sweeps into the meeting which is strangely held at night with dim lights and a banquet of those little jars. He is in a white tuxedo, which he finds completely appropriate for an advertising meeting. People give him strange, but appreciative looks, because he is, afterall, quite handsome... and he knows it. He has gotten by on his looks and boyish charm. But this woman is not amused by his outfit nor his antics. She is quite content to ignore him. He doesn't know what to make of that, so he makes every attempt to engage her in conversation. He sings to her, flatters her, gives her puppy dog eyes. After awhile, she is unable to refuse his amorous advances and before you know it, they are dancing across the floor. He bends her backward in a dip and the two are about to kiss.

Then my husband comes in demanding that I get up and get ready for work before I am late. And I am left to wonder what the hell kind of a dream is that? I wasn't even in it! Who are these people?!

Forgotten Treasures

2010-01-21T07:13:00.000-08:00

You know, whenever I am not feeling well or I am in a hard place in life, I tend to revert back to things that have comforted me in the past. Whether it's pulling an afghan out to keep warm, because it "smells like Mom" or cooking comfort foods (mashed potatoes and gravy), I will go back to what is "known" for me.

While talking to my Kade about what it was like in my childhood, (he does this with his dad, too. I think he just likes to ask his dad things like "did you have a butter churner back in those days, dad?" Just to see his dad's face go red.) I told my Kade about my grandmother. More specifically, I told him about her love of Legos. Up until she died at the age of sixty-four, she played Legos with us. The pastor even mentioned it in her eulogy, that's how much she loved those things. She would even sneak out to the store, telling my Grandpa she was going to Dunkin' Donuts, but instead she'd buy more Legos and hide them until we got there. We never let Grandpa in on this. I have no idea why he didn't notice that she never had donuts with her when she came back.

(While writing this entry, I have remembered something quite amusing that I will share, although it has nothing to do with what I'm writing. There was one time that my Grandma, Mom and I had gone shopping and when we came back, my Grandma went to put her newly purchased items away. While she was doing that, my Mom and I turned to the tv to see what my Grandpa was watching. And there I saw a woman in bikini bottoms and nothing covering her breasts save some tassled pasties. And man, was she swinging around those tassles! After my mother gave her father a rather reproachful look, he yelled, "What?! It's no big deal, she's covered up all the good parts!")

My grandma had the construction ones. We had the pirate and space series. This was good, because whenever we were bored with ours, we could go to Grandma's and play with hers. Now I still have all our beloved Legos from years past. I even still have the directions on how to put all the sets together. I know, I'm really awesome like that. I don't know whatever happened to Grandma's set of Legos, but my brother and I kept ours completely in tact. There might only be one or two missing pieces. So Kade, having listened to our stories of how much fun Legos were, decided to pull them all out. They are all out, all over his bedroom floor. And because I kept all those directions, he is able to put them together correctly. I bought him a few more sets for Christmas. He is getting the Star Wars series from now on. He has already put together his new sets and all but two sets of the old ones. He got some gift cards for Christmas, which he immediately went to Legos.com to see what he could get. A week later, he had two new sets of them, which took him an hour to put together. He is putting them on shelves all over my house. He doesn't play with them!!! He just likes building them. He keeps the people out of the sets, though. That's the only thing he does play with.

And while all this is going on, I mentioned to Kade about my love of puzzles. I thought he'd jump on this bandwagon, too, but he's way too addicted to Legos at the moment. So I'm stuck on this one myself. I had a puzzle growing up. Well I had tons of them, but there was this one that my stepdad had gotten me. Now I may not speak to this man now, because of past conflicts that I am in no mood to get into, but I will say, the man KNEW how to give the perfect gift. It was an island with a maze on it. Throughout the maze, monsters lurked everywhere. I LOVED THIS PUZZLE. I put it together everyday after school while watching He-man. So I took a cue from Kade and started searching for it online. After months of searching, I found it. Turns out this little five dollar puzzle goes for seventy-five dollars on ebay because it is so rare.

I haven't been able to purchase it, yet. A) Because who spends $75 on a puzzle!? and B) the auction had already ended on this item. But I will keep looking for this thing. Now you might ask, why is a grown woman looking for a silly puzzle? I don't know. I guess even after all these years, that tiny cardboard puzzle still gives me a little sense of peace. While I was putting that thing together, I could tune everything out and be in my own little world. And that world was awesome, with mazes and monsters lurking around every turn. You can't get much better than that... unless you're my Grandpa and you have some tassled pasties swinging around somewhere.

Hard Workers Never Win

2010-01-18T18:16:00.000-08:00

I honestly believe that the more of a hard-working person you are, the more work you'll receive. The more you give up, the more they'll take. The more you want to change things, the less opportunity you will be given to make it happen. I think I have become cynical.

I am fed up. I am miserable. I have given everything I can possibly give to this company. They don't care. I am replaceable and I know that. I wish I didn't need this job. Maybe someday, after I have moved on, I will write about all that I have seen and witnessed. It would make lawyers turn on their heels, hr reps shake their heads in shame... I almost have to laugh, because those that use sex to get ahead... well they end up getting ahead. Those that just work for a paycheck, are consistently late, refuse to be a team player, they are praised. It must be me, then. I must be the oddball one, because I will never be like them. I value myself more than that. I wish someone would see that.

Bless Her

2009-12-27T21:05:00.000-08:00

Dear God,

Please bless the gas station attendant that woke up Christmas morning, went to her job, and thankfully let me in so that I didn't pee all over myself given the fact that no other gas station was open. Let her win the lottery or something, she's awesome.

Ari

Trudging Ahead

2009-12-24T18:17:00.000-08:00

It's been a tough week. I don't think I have ever truly felt like a grinch during Christmas, but this year, I guess I would nominate myself for that title. It's not one I would be proud of, trust me. Three deaths and two funerals this week, one was a double funeral, for two little sweet angels. I just can't seem to pull myself out of the muck.

Kade put up the tree by himself this year, because I was working so much and to be honest, I couldn't get myself to do it. I bought him some special sweets and we watched a movie together. We are making plans to choreograph that "Down" song by Jay Sean. I have no idea why.

I guess I am ready for 2010. It has to be better next year. Good things will happen. I have to believe that. I guess I have just never had such a horrible year before. It seemed like we had a perpetual cloud over our heads. Well, I for one, am ready for the sunshine.

It's Called Social Grace

2009-12-22T22:19:00.000-08:00

I do believe invited guests should GRACIOUSLY accept the accomodations the host provides. I do believe invited guests are just that - guests. You are not at a hotel. You do not get to complain to the concierge or in the case, my husband. If you do not like the way the host or hostess runs their home, that does not give you carte blanche to demand or harp over how you think it should be. Perhaps if you should want to act this way, by all means, I will be more than happy to show you the exit and give you directions to the nearest Holiday Inn. It wasn't my idea for you to stay here, anyway.

I have to deal with people like you every day at work. What makes you think I would enjoy it at my home. MY HOME. Not yours. The next time you want to harp over how you think my dog should be groomed, how about you look in the mirror? Because I do not think your hair was shampooed at all in the three days you stayed. The only positive remark I will give will be on behalf of myself for truly learning tolerance and patience. I think I should be given a medal. You wouldn't even begin to know how badly I wanted to erupt. But I did not. But then perhaps I have something you don't, for I never would have behaved the way you did were I a guest in your home.

Over It

2009-12-01T21:32:00.000-08:00

In the peaks and valleys of life, I could call myself a valley girl right now. I'm low. I know I am fortunate to have what I have. I do count myself lucky, but that still doesn't mean I still can't be low. Why is it that the harder you work, the more the lazier people will get away with? Why is it that when you hold the lazy people accountable, suddenly you are too hard on people and not patient enough?

I know I am not perfect. I know I have things to work on. But I am as damned close to perfection as my workplace will ever see. Not trying to toot my own horn at all. Just tired of being walked on and sacrificing home life for people that just don't give a damn and never will. But it's a recession, so one must be thankful that one even has a job when many others don't. I realize this and if it weren't for my family, I would've already burnt this bridge with a verbal blowtorch and a few spare snarky nukes for good measure.

I hate complacency and apathy. To anyone out there, that just plods through life without a care, making others work harder because of your ineptitude, eff you. Eff you to hell.

Shooting Zombies Pays Off

2009-11-24T05:55:00.000-08:00

I bought a gun. My Chris and I were speaking about games; I said I thought I'd be a great shot, because of all the video games I've played. He said that was ridiculous, so I bought a gun. My brother-in-law, a firearms instructor, took my Chris and I to a shooting range and instructed me (Chris already knows how to shoot) on how to shoot properly. Even on my first shot, which spooked me, (because man, guns are loud!) I never missed the target sheet. The first shot, which I had aimed for the center of the gut ended up going straight through the heart, heh.

After he taught me to aim, he took me to the metal targets. Basically, they're set up like those carnival games. You shoot and if you hit it, the metal target pings and falls down. So when I got up there, it was like "ping, ping, ping, ping". One right after another.

Growing up, I had never been exposed to guns before... Well, once. There was this one time where my grandfather had left his gun hidden in a low cabinet and my baby cousin found it. I couldn't figure out what she was playing with and threw a fit that she wouldn't share. So I told on her, only to have my mother and grandmother go into hysterics. Luckily, the gun was taken away and my cousin was fine. My grandfather on the other hand had a good long hour of screaming women to contend with. Had I not found her in time though... That's a scary thought. Anyway, my mother is deathly afraid of the things. I, myself, have always had a disdain for guns. Anyone can pick up a gun and shoot. It's not that respectable of a weapon. But after having shot mine, I think I've found a new respect for them. It's not as easy as it looks. And the kickback on the nine millimeters is nothing to trifle with. My gun is a .22 caliber. I think it's just a tiny bit better than a BBgun.

So then I shot a shotgun. Holy hell, I never want to do that again. I wouldn't shoot it from my shoulder, too afraid it would hurt, so I shot it from my hip. That is some major kickback. I don't understand people who shoot the shotguns for fun. That's just way too much work. I prefer my little gun. And maybe partly because of my grandfather, I keep it triple locked. Heh.

I firmly believe that if the police want to get good shots, they should start recruiting in arcades. I'm just saying.

2009-11-23T10:55:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here with the cursor blinking at me, wondering what I could possibly write, how I could possibly get words on the screen like I have done countless times in the past four months. And I want to, I want to so much write and shout it out from the rooftops about injustice. But I won't, maybe someday I'll get the chance, but for right now, I'll let myself be silenced by others, because I have no other choice.

And I know that sounds all mysterious and ominous, but I guess I just need to vent a little without revealing what I'm venting. Maybe I should just write fluffy feel-good crap about how great life is, but right now I'm a bit too cynical and jaded to care. Well, except for when it comes to my Chris and my Kade. I can endure just about anything for them. They're my fluffy feel-good crap. Heh.

I guess all this rambling boils down to: I just want to say, I'm not dead, just very quiet at the moment.

Back To Work

2009-07-22T17:29:00.000-07:00

My vacation went down nicely. I laughed, I cried, I puked. I got sun poisoning, which was terrible, but I didn't even mind that. I wasn't at work, so it was all good. Heh. We went to the beach. There is a point where the waves break, where if you swim a bit more, the waves no longer bother you. I couldn't get Kade to swim out that far, so I was stuck at the spot where the waves came crashing down... on me. One came right up under my legs, lifting me up like a goddess, where all could see what I already know (that I am the most heavenly by far), only to not so gently place (err, throw) me down on the sand. I decided to laugh it off, but while I was laughing another wave plotted its move. It hit me while I was still on my hands and knees, which basically drug me up on shore. Do you know what it feels like to be drug through the sand? The tops of my feet looked like someone took sandpaper to it. Fun. I swallowed sea water. Fuuun. My bikini bottoms came down, so that I ended up flashing the entire beach. FUN! It was a great vacation. I say that without the least bit of sarcasm. Honest.

I say all that and most won't believe that I was still very happy about my vacation. I had a blast, despite getting woozy and ill. Why? Because I knew that when I got back to work, I would have to deal with dipshit questions, lazy coworkers and fighting bosses. Well, as it turns out, not only did I have to deal with all that, but my nemesis came into work, threatening my very sanity. (No, I'm not talking about the overly amorous veteran, either, altough he did decide to make a rather urinated appearance. Yes, I mean to use that word.) There is this customer... I can't even explain it, although I'll try. Okay, here, I'll tell you my nickname for him: Dr. Death. He claims to be an orthopedic surgeon. I don't know who in this whole wide world would ever go to this man as a doctor. He smells like death rolled up in a turd, bathed in diarrhea with a good dose of formaldehyde. I am not even lieing to you right now. And the stench that comes off this man gets in your nose. It gets in there, oh yes it does, and it STAYS there. You can go home, put your nose in a can of coffee, throw that can away because you feel you've now contaminated it, light scented candles, smell oranges, it doesn't matter. That smell is THERE. A skunk would run screaming from this man. He stinks and that's not even the worst part.

The worst part of this man is that he also gleeks. Look it up in the dictionary or wikipedia. It's a word and if you know what it means, you can imagine the utter horror of having this man gleek at you. He has a beard and part of the spittle runs down it onto his shirt, which is filthy. He also likes to stand RIGHT NEXT to you. I've learned to steer clear of this guy, but it's always amusing when I forget to pass on the knowledge to the new people. They always lean in to say "Hi", make a face, and try not to gag. Having been in that position allows me the right to giggle profusely. Which I do.

Also, while I was on vacation, four fat chicks came in the store, one of them pooped and dragged it all the way out of checkout. Yeah, I sure am sad I missed that one. And NOW, I'm being sarcastic.

V-a-c-a-t-i-o-n

2009-06-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

After one hard week of inventory at my store, running around like a madwoman, getting testy with coworkers that needed to be tested, I am officially on vacation.

I am so happy not to be at work. I am so thrilled to be in North Carolina again. I got off of work and we left right after to get on the road. It was a long drive with my husband, my son (the neverending mouth) and our two dogs. Sasha is way too big to put in a seat, so we had her all the way in the back. She was fine with this for the first eight hours (we took breaks every two hours, letting the dogs out to do their business, stretch their legs). Suddenly, Sasha decided she didn't want to sit by herself, so she managed to put her front half of her body in the back seats with her butt still in the back. Kade and I began to get upset with her for this, so she hopped all the way over and sat next to Kade, squishing him in the process.

I had to unbelt myself to try and get her to go all the way in the back, but moving a hundred pound dog when she doesn't want to be moved is next to impossible in a confined space. Especially, when she's looking at you like "What? What's the big deal, what'd I do?" Eventually, she took our hint and moved to the back. The whole rustle and bustle of this event upset Angel, who doesn't like attention stolen away from her, so she began a fifteen minute yap. This bothered Kade, who was watching a dvd, which bothered Chris who was trying to drive. And they are all looking at me like, "Do something!" So I did. I went to sleep for ten hours. Go me. I don't know why, but if I just ignore their tantrums, they seem to stop. When I woke up, they were all quiet again.

We're currently relaxing and resting until we start our next leg of this adventure, which will be some camping and beach time. Yes, if you are on vacation with me, you will learn that one must rest up before relaxing. I plan things this way. Actually, my Chris planned it this way, because he knows me. Because when I go on vacation, I really go on VACATION. If it involves walking more than five steps, I'm gonna need to rest first.

Obsequious

2009-05-11T16:17:00.000-07:00

Who knew that many vowels could go together?

There are certain milestones in a child's life. Walking, talking, going to school for the first time, having a crush on a girl, but none of them rival the competitive edge that is the spelling bee. My son made it to the finals. They gave us a list to study from. I was under the impression that it was a sample list; the real words would be LIKE those, but not EXACTLY those. I was wrong.

The day of the spelling bee, my son went up there on stage with forty other finalists. They started with easy words. Then suddenly round three kicked in and they started throwing the hard ones. My Chris and I were disappointed for the other parents when their children left the stage. The mother ahead of us brought that sample list and let us know they were going down the list exactly as it had been given to us. Then she showed me my son's next word. Holy hell! That's not a word! That's just some vowels and a consonant or two! I told them he'd be knocked out. I mean come on, there's no way I could even spell that one. Meh.

And of course, he could barely even say it, let alone spell it. He just kept shaking his head, then finally threw up his hands and blurted out any letters he could think of. Oh my little sport! He's such a doll.

************************

Kade is getting baptized (his choice, not mine.) I'm very proud of that. He is making his own choices and doing what he wants to do, so that's a good thing. We went shopping for his baptism clothes. In the midst of that, I saw this hat and knew he had to get it. It's SOOOOOO him.

Notice how he models it.

Sometimes, he reminds me of a little man. Sigh, how fast they grow...

A Birthday And Stuff

2009-04-15T22:08:00.000-07:00

Another birthday rolled around. I realized that when you sign up for things and you have to actually scroll to get to your birth year, you're getting old. I work with people that were born in the nineties. I'm four years older than one of my bosses. I got a pimple yesterday, so apparently, my body is just as confused about my age as I am.

You know what else makes me feel old? Twitter. I signed up for it, because everyone signs up for it nowadays. Everyone is flocking there, and somehow I got pushed to the Twitter page. It feels like being in a pack of rabid grandmothers waiting outside for the doors to open to get the sales the day after Thanksgiving. Only difference is that I have no idea what it's for. I have a twitter page. I think I might even have some tweets... or twits... or whatever they're called. I don't get it. Why? If it's important enough for me to say it, then why not write out a well-thought blog entry? What is the purpose of this thing? I think I have lived in Quincy too long and now the retirement people are making me one of them. I see them at the laptop displays wondering how such a thing could work. OH, I GET LAPTOPS! I understand those things! I just don't get twitter. Or facebook. Why? I just don't get it.

I finally figured out how to get my son in on a game of Resident Evil, so we can both play at the same time. I spend the first half of the game making him walk, not run, (don't run, you might fall and break your ear off!) behind me so that I could protect him from zombies. (I think at one point, I actually told him to go hide. As if the game really featured that.) Finally, he got bored, so he ignored me and ran ahead. My Chris told me to stop mothering him, it's just a game. But you should see those two play the combat fighter pilot game. My Chris goes a little bit nuts. He's not used to playing video games, I'm slowly getting him in on it. (Mostly now that we have remote controls, he likes playing in his recliner. Hehehe.) Still, Kade is pretty good at that game. Maybe even better than me... well no, not better than me, but he's pretty good. Certainly better than the computer that was controlling the second character. When my son can play better than me, then I'll know I'm really old.

This happened yesterday:

Me - "blah blah blah something about my Chris blah blah..."
Customer - "Certainly you are not old enough to have a husband!?"
Me - "Uh... how old do you think I am?"
Customer - "22."
Me - "You're my new favorite customer."

I may be getting older, but I think I have decided to age very slowly. I shall keep my youthful vigor and good looks... right after take this here nap.

Resident Evil 5

2009-03-24T11:05:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for this one for three years. Three years it took them to make this sequel. Now let me just talk about disappointment for a second. I always get my hopes up about how good something will be. I hated Dark Knight. It sucked. I hate the Resident Evil movies. They suck. I hate Milla Jovovich or whatever her name is. She sucks and her character was never even in the game. Suck suck. Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness sucked so bad, I only played the first few levels before hurling it at the wall, never to be played again. I hated the Final Fantasy computer animated movie. It sucked. In fact, there hasn't really ever been a game to movie crossover that I HAVE liked. They all suck. So, I am no stranger to disappointment.

But when my Kade got his Game Informer magazine, when my Kade came screeching into the living room about how they were in the throws of making RE5, I went beserk-like crazy in anticipation. I didn't even own a PS3 and I was excited for this game. I checked the dates. March 13th. I preordered my copy. Did I mention, I didn't even have the console, yet? I made my Chris go to another state to get me a PS3 that WAS backwards compatible, because they are hard to find, being that Sony doesn't make them anymore. I made him buy me one that had sixty gigs of harddrive. I made him buy me a second controller, because I learned the game was Co-op, so now my Kade could play alongside me. So... six hundred dollars later, I am now ready for this game. Now before I go on... I don't ask for much. I know I am sounding like a spoiled brat, but I really am not one of these wives that asks for a lot. I am fine with the things I have. I don't need jewelry. I don't shop for clothes all the time. I don't need the latest fashions. So, when I do want something, typically my Chris is happy to oblige. I don't need pretty baubles, I just need a Playstation and any Resident Evil game, so I can curl my finger around the R1 button, the way you would curl your finger around the trigger of a gun and I am allllllllllll good.

I had asked the guy at Gamestop who the characters were, because I didn't recognize them. Yeah, they really revamped the characters. A little too much if you ask me. Chris (the lead, not my Chris) has some huge guns... err arms, biceps. I mean, huge. A little too huge. Come on, really? For a computer animated character, he is nice to look at. It's just you shouldn't really want to look at him when an angry lynch mob is heading your way. Just sayin'. The other character is new, Sheva. Not Sheiva, but Sheh vah. Weird. But okay. The animation in this game is so good. For once, they really concentrated on the characters. Sheva has this thing she does with her nose. When something doesn't suit her, she wrinkles it a bit. It's a cute characteristic for a game character. I like the little things. I like HER character. I don't like HER in the game. Okay, the game is co-op, which means you play with a partner. If you don't have a partner, the computer takes over the other character, you play in tandem. Problem is that if either one of you dies, you both die. Problem is that Sheva has a habit of walking straight into a mob of infected zombie-like people, blocking my view so that I cannot shoot. If I do shoot, I hit her dumbass. This is extremely frustrating when I am lining up a snipershot. There is nothing worse than getting that little red dot right over a zombie's head, than to have Sheva walk into my line of sight, only to have her staring at me through my scope. You dumbass! Move! And I really do shout these things at the television. As if it really knows my pain.

Another annoying aspect is that if I do happen to let her have a gun, she will waste all the ammo. So now, I have gone to using her as a pack mule to carry all my ammo. She can have a stun rod. Only I have the guns. This little trick has gotten my far into the game. Far less wasted ammo, but the problem is that she LOVES to run ahead. When I am hiding, trying to load all my guns, she will decide to go look ahead, taking all my ammo with her. I have to call her back every few seconds, but she always brings a few unwanted guests with her. The AI that controls Sheva had to have been made by a real big asshole. She always wants to run out of situations. This is the advice she gives me. Um, hello, a huge mob of infected villagers just came out of the woodwork, I have plenty of rifle ammo and you want to run?! Hell no! Head shot practice anyone? I love shooting their heads before they ever get to me, then I run over and steal all their ammo... which I make Sheva hold for me. *snicker*

The game starts out hardcore. This mob comes outta no where to take you out. At this point you have very few bullets, a knife (whoopeedoo, what's a knife gonna do for ya, other than breaking open crates?) so you have to run. Now I am not a bitch that runs. So it took me a few times to figure out that, hey, the game really does want me to run away. Damn. I hate that. That pissed me off and for a moment, I really did consider throwing the game at the wall and letting it end the way of Angel of Darkness. But only for a moment. I gathered myself and trudged on. It gets so much better. Once I figured out that they messed up the controls (I had to manually go in and set all my controls back to the way they should be) it was game on! I got this now!

It does add in some really unintentionally funny parts. I accidently knocked over a huge torch and it severely scalded this beast I was trying to kill. It was put there for that purpose, but I didn't know that, so my Kade and I had a good laugh at how good I was at accidently winning. There's another part where you are in the darkness of a mine. Sheva holds a light, but it only illuminates a few feet in front of you, so you have to rely on sounds to alert you. I forgot Sheva was behind me, so when I heard footsteps behind me, I turned and starting shooting, only to be shooting my partner. Ooops. At another point, you are supposed to walk quietly by some sleeping mutants. This is the advice Sheva gave me. I seriously did consider it... but the opportunity of a fight was just too much so I ran by quickly to alert them of my presence while the AI Sheva complained that I woke them all. Hehehhe.

Am I disappointed? There are aspects of the game that disappoint me. Sheva, while a good character and quite cute, is useless to me other than to be a pack mule. I hate not being able to see. I hate it. I understand they do it for atmosphere and to make the game harder, but I want to see myself playing the game. Don't make it too dark. Do I love the game? YES! Was it worth a six hundred dollar three year wait? YES!

Now I have to teach my Kade to play, so that he can control Sheva (even though he whines at this. But I told him that I am already too used to playing Chris to be Sheva now.) I think he might be at the age where he can play this all right. Then again, I may have to wait a few years, because there are still certain scenes that make him get up and sit right next to me. If you get into the game, it can be scary. It does get your heart racing. It's definitely not as scary as the original RE games, it's a new kind of scared. Scared your partner did something ridiculous. Like waste fifty bullets on chickens. Or scared you have to kill this huge monster, only to realize you have almost no ammo left. Or scared your partner got too close to you with that stun rod. (I can't even tell you how many times she's hit me with that thing!) Anyway, it's a good buy. It's not as good as RE4, but it will keep me busy until the next one comes out.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

2009-03-03T10:29:00.000-08:00

I don't even know where to begin. I'm so disgusted right now. Okay, I've always felt like if you've done well, you should always give back. So my Chris and I, we try to take care of our vets. There's a Soldiers and Sailors home right up the street from my house. We go to visit them every couple of months. Usually we visit as many as we can, but sometimes I'll go and visit the ones that know us a little better. I have one (we'll call him "the Good Vet") that is a penpal to us. He writes us every so often, even though we are only up the street. I think for him, it is the promise of something to look forward to. Getting something in the mail is nice for him. My son writes him back, he likes that. He's a very sweet man.

Most of them are all great men and women. They love getting visits. Most of the time, they just want someone to listen. The Good Vet will sometimes call me when he really needs a visit. Unless my schedule is too busy, I am happy to oblige. And to tell you the truth, we enjoy visiting him, too. He likes hearing how our lives are going; we make sure he's doing all right. The Good Vet has a few friends. Sometimes, he'll go around introducing us. One time he introduced us to a gentleman that was a little cranky. We didn't let that get in the way of conversation, and by the end of the day, he was laughing with us. The Cranky Vet ended up wheeling himself (he's in a wheelchair) down to our home to wait until we got home so that he could thank us for the visit. I thought that was sweet. I don't mind that, I really don't.

I don't mind phone calls, or mail. I don't even mind home visits if they are able to get around on their own. I don't mind being there for someone. What I DO mind is being taken advantage of. Now the vets I've mentioned so far are great gentlemen who would never harm a fly.

This next one, ugh. So there's this vet... We'll call him the Creepy Vet. He didn't start out creepy. He was a customer of mine that would come in. I was always happy to help him get what he needed from my store. Because of this, he would only allow me to help him whenever he came in. Or at least, that's what I thought. It always baffled the other managers that he would not speak to them. This should have been a warning flag, but you never know with people. I just thought that he knew I was the customer service rep, so I would get him exactly what he needed.

So one day he came in and mentioned that he lived in the Soldiers and Sailors home. I told him I knew of it, actually visited it sometimes. He asked if I would visit him there, I told him I would whenever I got the chance. As it so happened, the group I volunteer for, Soldiers' Angels, sent my Chris a bunch of donations for the home. Whenever I visit, whether it be for all the vets or for the few I know well, I always go as a Soldiers' Angel. I've even taken other Angels there, as well as Patriot Guard Riders. So, I could have had my Chris call up some Angels or Riders to come with me to make these donations, but I thought that I'd take a few and deliver them personally to the vets I knew. I thought it would be nicer that way. I won't do that anymore.

I visited the Good Vet and his friends, gave them their donations. They marveled at how fast Kade was growing. It's really amusing because they don't see Kade on a regular basis, so they can see the changes in him immediately. The last person on my list was the Creepy Vet, who at this point was not creepy at all. So I went to deliver his donation, only to find him in some really short shorts. Now he's in a wheelchair, so that an extremely odd look, but whatever. So Kade and I went into his room... Okay, it's sad that I can identify most of the things in his room by name and model number because they come from my store. That's really odd, but whatever. I gave him his donation, explaining that the Soldiers' Angels sent them for the vets to have. He nodded and set them aside, then asked for a hug. Um, okay. So I went to give him a hug and the man starts to kiss my neck.

I jumped back telling him that that was inappropriate first of all, and second of all, I am married! He told me he didn't know that, despite the fact that the entire time I have known this man, I've had a ring on my finger. At this point, Kade's eyes were as wide as saucers. Thank the Lord my son was there with me that day. Thank all the heavens, because he gave me every excuse to leave. I love my son. I do. I love the fact that I don't have to tell him I need help, he just instinctively knows. So Kade started saying he was really hungry, which gave me a polite excuse to leave. "Oh, gotta go fix dinner." Nope, that just launched Creepy Vet into a list of places where we could go eat. Uh, no. Again, I told him I am married and that he was inappropriate. He ignored this. So at this point, I was done using excuses. I told him we had to leave. He told me he would walk me out to my car. I told him that was unnecessary and yet, he followed us anyway.

The whole time he was asking if any of the other girls at work were single. Nope, there aren't any!! I practically jumped in my car and bolted out of there. "Mom, don't tell Dad, he'll be so mad," Kade told me.

My response was, "You better damn well believe I am telling your father!"

"Oh come on, he didn't know you were married."

"Kade, where is the logic in that?! Even if I wasn't married that gives him no right to be trying to kiss on me!!"

"Oh good point. That was gross."

I get home to my Chris, who knew immediately that something was wrong. I told him and he laughed. I do not find it funny. He gave me a hug and talked me down, but I was pretty upset. I called my mother and she too, began laughing. Okay, so I started to see the humor in the situation. This dirty old vet tried to kiss me. Har har.

The next day, I get this voicemail from Creepy Vet. I can't make out a word he's saying. So, I give the phone to my Chris, who listens to it, shakes his head, then begins listening again so he can translate to me. He tells me that the Creepy Vet is asking me if "we can get something started. I thought about you all night." Needless to say, my Chris was NOT smiling and laughing anymore. I will not be visting that building of the grounds any more. And the next time I take donations, I will not be going with only a ten year old as a companion. It's really fucking sad that I have to think that way.

You know, it's not like I can't take care of myself. I've brought down men bigger than my Chris before. I can fight. I was taught. No where in my training did they ever teach me about how to ward off old dirty men in wheelchairs. I can't beat him up! He's an old man in a wheelchair. What the hell! Needless to say, I know this story may be amusing to some and funny, but I am not amused. I am creeped out. No wonder the guy would never allow the MALE managers to help him. Well from now on, that's all he gets or he can go elsewhere. I've already alerted my boss. The sad thing is that I get this crap all the time. Now not to this degree, but I'm so tired of being gawked at. I'm so tired of comments. And up until this point, I've laughed it off, too. Don't get me wrong, I thought it was hilarious when a deaf old customer loudly told me that he liked the way the paper in my back pocket moved when I walked. I mean, I could not help but laugh at the time. But now I'm sick of it. I'm so damn sick of it. Mostly it's the older ones, because they think they can get away with it, but lately I don't know. It seems like the men in this community think they have a right or something. And all it makes me believe is that I need to get the hell out of dodge. I hate this city. I hate these people. Say what you want about that kind of stuff happening everywhere, but I've never had this kind of thing happen anywhere else.

Under Lock And Key

2009-02-13T21:20:00.001-08:00

He died on the thirteenth, but I never remember much of that day. I remember the next day, though. I remember waking up to a nurse setting a tray before me with heart shaped napkins and little candies. I remember seeing a picture of a lily posted on the door to my room, which I equated with Valentine's Day, but it had nothing to do with that. I found out later they put it on there to notify the other hospital staff to tread lightly: this mother lost her baby. Now the thought of flowers and candies sometimes sickens me. And tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

Today is almost over, but it hasn't hit me at all. It's almost like a void today. Or maybe I am blocking it. I have gotten very good at doing that. It's strange, because I feel every other emotion whole-heartedly. I am not good at hiding how I feel. Except with Logan. With him, I don't show anything. I can't speak about him much. I know what I want to say, but I cannot physically get the words out of my mouth. It's almost like screaming but nothing comes out. Not a sound.

Kade used to ask me questions all the time, but it always resulted in me staring at him until he stopped asking. Eventually, he gave up. I can't answer his questions. They're my questions, too and they've gone unanswered. It feels strange to write about this. I certainly can't speak any of it. This is going to absolutely kill me, but I feel the need to get some of it out.

No one ever really talks about stillborn babies. People might sadly mention that they've had miscarriages (for that I truly sympathize), but it's not the same. I feel terrible for other parents who've lost children after they've been born. But it's not the same. I've had countless medical staff tell me how often it occurs, but no one talks about it up close and personal. It's the big fat elephant in the room.

Imagine expecting something for awhile, but never getting it. Imagine changing your life to prepare for something that will never happen. Imagine wanting something so deeply, but knowing you will never get it. Now imagine that something had a name. Imagine that something had a face. Imagine that he never got a chance to look at you, or smile ... or laugh, even though every feature was fully formed. Even though he had a face of an angel. Even though he was perfect in every way. Even though they could never find a reason. That's the best I can describe the situation. Stillbirth robs you of everything, after pregnancy promised the world.

It's been six years. On most days, I am fine. Of course, on most days, I am blocking any thought that would lead me to think of it. Some days, it will sneak in and I lose myself in it. I watch family members have new babies, coworkers are getting pregnant (one is on her sixth child), but not me. And it's all with a certain detachment. Even if I did get pregnant again, it won't be HIM. I don't want another baby. I want MY baby.

I asked for a hope chest for Christmas. I used the excuse that Kade was growing to old to have his baby things in his room, which is true. But the real reason is that I wanted a place for all Logan's things. I can't look at them anymore. I changed the nursery to my computer room a few years ago, which definitely helped. Although, taking down the crib was not the best day of my life. But his clothes still hang in the closet. His blankets still lie on the shelf. I have to put them away now, only because I can't bear to see them anymore. I can't name one person who has hung on as long as I have.

After the funeral, I remember getting angry, because time had stopped for me, but everyone else kept moving on. Why?! Didn't they know they were supposed to stop, too? I held him within me. I felt his movement and kicks. I sang to him. I rubbed my belly. Please stop for me, because it's hard to not feel any of that again. And I've barely moved on. So, it kills me to put all his things away. It kills me to move on. He was mine. And I don't want to. But the pain is still as sharp as Valentine's six years ago. And it's getting harder for me to block it. No one understands a mother who sobs six years later. "Isn't she over it by now?" Nope. I can't let go.

There will be a piece of me always reserved for him. The part of me that no one else will ever get. That no one else will ever see. I will never let him go.

The Mini Ones

2009-02-07T14:37:00.000-08:00

I can throw a temper tantrum like no one's business. Oh yeah, I can bring the goods. The chin quivering, the stomp, the rage, the pout... I've got them all in my arsenal. Those are all on reserve, however. And my arsenal has its fair share of dust collecting on it. I don't use it much. Logic goes a lot farther than any temper tantrum would. But that is not to say that I don't have many multiple mini-tantrums throughout the day.

I had one this morning. My Chris woke me up with kisses. I like waking up that way. He then gave me a backrub. I like waking up this way, too. So I mumble politely about the third way of waking me up, which is a footrub, but he wouldn't do that one. I'm pretty sure there were some muffled retorts in my pillow, none of which he heard. Or at least, he pretended not to hear. So I fell back asleep on purpose just so he'd have to wake me again.

And so he came back with kisses. No backrub, no footrub. So I kicked the bed, but then realized he already left the room. My little display went unnoticed. After stomping down the stairs, getting ready for work, pausing at the door to wait for him to notice that I was leaving, so that I could ignore him, I realized he wasn't noticing I was leaving.

I gave up. He'll never know I had a mini-tantrum and I'll just have to wait for that footrub. One could call it a draw. He's getting better at this. I should revamp my arsenal.

Reality Love, Pfffft!

2009-02-05T09:31:00.000-08:00

I'm over it. These stupid reality love shows... ugh. I was flipping through channels last night and caught a young woman doing the splits. Not a big deal, except that she was trying to show off a trick to grab the attention of the lead (some guy named Ray J, I don't know who he is or care) where she proceeded to then hump the ground while in the splits.

Um, okay. That's where we've found ourselves in this society? Oh yeah, real impressive trick there hon. In about the thirty seconds she'd managed to do that "trick", she'd just managed to debase and degrade herself on national television. Will her next trick be how to love herself? I'd like to see that one. I really would, because she seemed to have no clue and was actually proud of her little exhibition.

It's sick. Disgustingly sick. What I find the most horrifying is that these women go on these shows for some exposure to launch their careers (because let's face it, no one goes on a reality love show to find love. NO ONE.) only to find themselves being used as sex symbols, being toyed with, being exploited. What a career that must be.

What annoys me the most are the men. I love men. I'm not a man-hating woman, I'm not. But I cannot tolerate men that stand by or are a part of the degradation of women. Bret Michaels really really really makes me angry. Sure, there have been plenty of men that have done these shows. I'm not necessarily letting them off the hook, but Bret Michaels friggin' takes the cake. I've watched his show. He stands there, pushing his lips out in between token phrases like "She'd better step it up." Step what up?!

Brett... What do you expect a girl to do? They're already there exploiting themselves for your 'love', which we all know is false, because you aren't there to find love. You're there to try and stay relevant in a society that really couldn't give a shit about you. And for a good reason. Dude, in case you haven't noticed... You're a douche. No amount of bandanas are going to hide that. You can purse your lips as much as you want, you look like a tool while doing it!

I have a new proposal for a show. It's called "Bret's Last Attempt at Fame". And it goes a little something like this: You debase and degrade yourself for all the world to see in various obstacles, (One of which will be to throw all your bandanas away. Show your bald head. Do it.) where people scream "Step it up at you" and you'll win a little respect and the right to keep your johnson. If you fail, you lose the right to keep your penis, but that's okay because it will go up in the hall of fame under a little glass dome so you will always be famous. Or at least, a part of you will be. I think that's a great show. Or maybe I'm just being a little evil today. Either way, it'll never get made.

I'm going to go back to watching the Discovery Channel and the History Channel. I never get disgusted with their programming. I've fallen in love with a new show called "MonsterQuest". Hey, at least Nessie doesn't jump out of the loch and start humping the ground.

Knocked Up

2009-01-29T16:18:00.000-08:00

No, I am not pregnant.

I came home from a rough day at work to find my son guzzling a liter of Pepsi. I demanded to know how he got that Pepsi. He told me his father bought it for him.

"Yeah, I've been sort of knocked up on Pepsi for awhile."

"Knocked up, huh? Kade, do you even know what 'knocked up' means?"

"Yeah, it means 'drunk', doesn't it?"

"No. No, it doesn't. It means pregnant."

Big pause.

"Ohhhhh. So that means you've been knocked up before, huh Mom?"

**************

Apparently my son has inherited the part of his father's brain that tells (or rather doesn't tell) him that he's asleep. So they both act out their dreams. I don't mean they talk in their sleep, either. They literally act out their dreams, which can be quite comical. Unless it's a fighting dream, in which case, duck and cover.

I have found my husband fast asleep making coffee, doing laundry, giving slideshow presentations to an empty living room... That last one had me rolling. And now my son.

My Kade went down the living room, where his father had fallen asleep on the couch. He picked up a hanger on the way. Chris woke to a tapping at his feet. Kade was mumbling something angrily and shaking that hanger at my Chris. I wasn't there, so I didn't get to see the look on either of their faces, but I bet if I had been there, I'd have peed my pants. Chris finally realized Kade was completely asleep the whole time. He gently asked Kade what he was doing, but Kade would only mumble incoherently. So Chris took him to bed. The next morning, Kade had no recollection of the entire episode. Man, I wished I had been there to see it.

I always tell people that you can call my house anytime, because someone will be up. It's true, too. They may not be awake, but someone will always be up.

Oh Crappy Day

2009-01-22T15:29:00.000-08:00

Well, that sucked. Today was a wash with three people calling in sick, one getting testy with me, which I squashed in a no nonsense "I WILL NOT be dealing with drama today!!!!" attitude and a customer that threatened to call the BBB over a product THEY broke. Fun!

I don't like confronting people that I know I can verbally whip. I don't. It's sad and I always feel bad. On the other hand, I will not tolerate insubordination. If you confront me, it's game on. Do your job. It's not hard. Just do it.

So, sometimes, it feels like when you are at your moment when you feel like you will pull your hair out, an angel comes along to brighten your day. This kid walked in and asked for me. I glanced up, telling him I'd be right with him. I noticed his eyes. Such beautiful baby blue honest eyes, that spoke of such innocence and good-heartedness. And then I realized it was my cousin. I hadn't seen him in awhile, my he'd grown! And for some reason, I had to smile.

You don't see that much anymore. I mean I am an antisocial person. I admit it. I can be fine in my home by myself for days on end, never thinking twice of it. I don't want other people around. Mostly because the people I get to see on a day to day basis are assholes and lazy losers. But this one kid immediately made me feel better, only because I know how much of a good person he is. Man, I wish everyone were like him. I wouldn't be antisocial if everyone were as thoughtful and genuine as he is.

So, in the middle of my horrendous day, Levi made me smile.

For Heather

2009-01-20T22:10:00.000-08:00

Normally, when I read others' blogs, I might leave a comment here or there, but generally I don't bring their stuff on my blog. Unless it's a tag game sort of thing. I check in with a few. I admit, I've lost touch with a lot of people that I used to read daily. It does break my heart, that a lot of them have gone private or missing. I've gone missing from time to time, too. But still there are a few that I silently check on.

So I went to Heather's blog. I was so angry at what some sad little pathetic peon of a person wrote to her in email. Livid. I'm not even going to get into that.

What I do want to say is that, you know what? This is what I have come to know...

Dear Heather,

I realize that you and I haven't been the closest bloggers out there, but we have still sort of kept in touch. And from all that I have read, from all that I know of you, you happen to be the sweetest, kindest girl I know. It pains me to see someone trying to hurt you. You don't deserve that. Even in your lowest moments, I still imagined you softly smiling. There will always be assholes trying to get at you. Trust me, I know.

But if you read nothing else, read this: You are not alone. You have great friends, whether they be bloggers or real-life, you have people that will be there for you when you need it. You aren't alone. And the painful experiences you've gone through? Some women out there have been through similar ones as well. They may not be brave enough to let the world see their pain, but you were. You were that brave. Your words may have helped them along and you didn't even know it. So you keep writing whatever your little heart desires, babe. I'll be here, silently checking in now and again. You know if you ever need anything, just email. Always keep smiling.

Ari

Cleaning Out The Cobwebs

2008-12-29T11:14:00.000-08:00

I haven't written in awhile. I've been working a lot, add that in with the business of the holidays and well... the blog gets neglected (even more than before.) So I come back, lo' and behold, my pictures are gone. Stupid AOL! I forgot that my pics were stored over there. Luckily my Chris stored all my pics on his computer, but to be honest, I'm just not about to go back and fix each picture. Maybe one day when I have more patience. (Riiiiiiiiiight!)

Work sucks, but is much better than before. I had a meltdown of sorts... I'm not going into it, because I feel a bit guilty about it all, but I somehow managed to keep my job after screaming at my boss, making him and myself cry. I feel lucky to be employed. I knew it was coming too, which just made it worse that I didn't reign in my temper. Definitely not a finer moment.

My Chris is wonderful as ever. It seems lately we are so close, more than before. I don't know why. Maybe it's the whole "us against the world" mentality. And you know what's weird? Despite all the economic crap going on this holiday season, we had a REALLY good Christmas. Usually, after Christmas, there is this let down phase we go through. All the hubbub is over and we go through a mini-depression, but not this year. I don't know why, but it all just felt so good.

I'm on vacation right now. I only have a few more days left of it, before going back. Maybe that mini-depression will hit me then, but right now I'm still on a high. I just feel like being silly, so I'm going to recount the things that are making me happy right now (in no particular order).

The Twilight series. Yes, I know these books are for a younger audience, but despite the fourth novel (which starts to read like a Dean Koontz book) it's a great series. If I had read it when I was younger, I know I would have read it over and over again. I love books that give you really good characters that are so lovable. I have a certain fondness for that Jacob Black. My sister-in-law suggested it (knowing I love vampire books), my other sister-in-law sent me her copies to borrow. I do read Anne Rice, or I used to, I kind of like the fact that this series is a lot lighter... no existential "meaning of life" crap thrown in like Mrs. Rice likes to do. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's nice not to have to concentrate as much. The movie isn't as good, though. They took out a lot and crammed it all together to make the movie into a normal length, but it feels all mushed together for me. Still, I was able to sit through the movie without fuming.
Estee Lauder's Pleasure Exotic perfume. For some reason, this perfume was meant for my body chemistry. It goes on very light, so that I have to really sniff to smell it on my wrists. Definitely not overbearing, but sweet and wonderful all the same. Something about it sets my Chris off. So I have to sit slightly away from him, lest I want to be dragged back upstairs to the bedroom again.
The hum of the wine cooler behind me. I don't drink wine at all, yet it will be one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. It's stocked full of Mt. Dew, so I no longer have to run up and down the stairs when I get thirsty. Don't worry, I'm sure the perfume will provide ample cause for the exercise I'd normally be getting. Besides, the cooler is black, just like my computer room. My Chris is so awesome.
Best Buy gift cards never expire. I don't even like Best Buy. Their employees are filled with snotty skunk-haired trashy twits that wouldn't know customer service, because it doesn't come from a hair dye bottle. You know, would it hurt for Best Buy managers to train their people? I'm thinking it must be a painful process, because not even the manager would greet people. Despite them, I found a two year old gift card that I could still use. Goonies here I come! I can't believe I didn't have that movie before. Still, this is bittersweet. I got the movie, but had to go to Best Buy to get it. Our Best Buy sucks so much, I'd almost be willing to drive to St. Louis to go to that one. Almost.
Afghans that smell like my mother, because she drapes them over herself as she knits them.
Getting my son everything he wanted for Christmas and more (despite the fact he knows there is no Santa), because the kid is so humble that he asks for things like Rubix cubes and boxes. Who asks for a box for Christmas?! Have I not taught him anything? We now have tons of boxes littering our formal living room, which I'm sure will be made into castles and tunnels. If you here him gasping and croaking, he's not ill, he's just making his epic voyage through the lost city of tunnels.
Kade interupts to put in one thing he is currently enjoying at the moment: tuna packs. Sort of like a lunchable, but with tuna and crackers, peaches and a cookie. No cooking, he can make it himself. He is monumentally happy right now.
Sam's Club because you can get pizza bagels by the carton. Man, can we eat those things. Also, they have chicken wings that have about sixty wings in them. We eat chicken wings a lot. I have great marinades.
You can tell I've missed lunch, I'm starving. We have endless gift cards to tons of restaurants. We're going to be eating out a lot. No cooking for me!
Chris did most of the laundry this morning.
Fuzzy vibrating slippers that massage my feet.
Lazy naps on Sunday afternoons.

Okay, things I'm not liking so much at the moment:

I'm pretty sure my ashtray is about to erupt into an inferno. Right now, it's just smoldering, so I'll keep typing. But if a fire breaks out, I'm outta here.
I bought my dogs peanut butter lollipops and pig ears. They were all natural, so I figured Sasha could handle them. I'm pretty sure she did okay with the lollipop, but for some reason the pig ear upset her stomach. (I never have to worry with Angel. She'll eat anything. Sometimes she'll even poop it and eat it again. It's gross but she's a dog.) Anyway, Sasha who never ever ever goes potty in the house, got diarrhea. And here I thought I was giving her a real treat. Poor thing.
They are actually going to make another movie after Dark Knight. Ugh, there's no accounting for taste.
I've been sick for the last couple of days. I managed to not be quite the bitch I normal am when I'm sick, but I know I have made the boys fetch me lots, so I know they are happy I am feeling better.

Now that I've listed all the good and bad in my life right now, I think I shall go enjoy it and give this blog a rest for now. Happy Holidays!

A Veteran Delicacy

2008-10-26T12:27:00.000-07:00

My son and my Chris went to a Veteran's Day Parade meeting to help organize the event. Basically, they were all going over how the day should go, what to do, what to setup, etc. One of the organizers spoke about having miniature horses in the parade, but for some reason my husband couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that there are smaller versions of horses. So he kept calling them donkeys. I guess the other organizers were being nice, because no one called him out on it. So the entire beginning portion of the meeting revolved around the problems of having "donkeys" stroll down Broadway. My Chris suggested that my Kade be in charge of any uh... land mines that happened to fall from the ... "donkeys". Heh. Kade was not too happy about that.

Later in the meeting, they changed direction, trying to organize refreshments for all those involved in the parade. My Chris spoke up again and jokingly said, "Well, if we run out of food, we can always eat the donkeys."

And my brilliant Kade, not to be outdone, also spoke up, "Yeah, and if we run out of those, we can always eat the Democrats." **

The entire room went silent, before eruptions of laughter spewed forth at the absurdity. I've always said you can dress those two up, but you can't take them anywhere.

** (Nothing against Democrats at all. My son equates donkeys with Democrats. The joke would have been entirely different had they been speaking of elephants.)

When It Rains

2008-09-30T16:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, so it's been awhile. I wish I could write here as much as I did before. I wish life would allow me the time, because right now, so much has happened so fast that I don't even know what to think. I don't have time to muse over things like before, so it's all been trapped inside. Or maybe a part of me just didn't want to write about anything.

When it rains, it pours. For the last couple of months, I've had a rain cloud over my head. You know, if I believed in such things, I'd almost think that someone has hexed me. If I believed in such things, but I don't. Life just sometimes sucks ass.

My Chris was terminated over something SOMEONE ELSE did. Makes sense, doesn't it? That's okay, because now his employer has to pay him to NOT work. Hahah, life is funny. I love him being home, though. He's a much better house person that I ever was. He's good at everything, though. So that news was pretty devastating, given that he'd given that employer thirteen FUCKING YEARS of his life, turned four stores into million dollar stores, received manager of the district the previous two months before termination, they just up and gave him the axe. Bastards. Don't ever partake in Advance Auto Parts. They do not care about their employees. Buycott the bastards.

My son was in not one but two bus accidents, the second of which sent my husband into a crazed lunatic mode. That bus driver definitely knows who he is now. Heh. Doesn't matter though, that bus driver won't be driving my son around ever again. Kade is okay. Still, it pissed me off.

And I ... well, I had to rediscover what it means to live. We take it all for granted, we do. We take each day for granted that we will be here, that we will get to do our everyday things, that we will get to kiss each other goodnight every night. We do that until our doctor, who is a brilliant and wonderful man, by the way, scratches his head in frustration. We do that until he orders a test to see what exactly is wrong. We take it for granted until we get a phone call saying there is a growth on one of the ovaries.

Now, before I go on, I have to admit that I am probably the queen of overreaction. I am one to use a hammer to kill a fly, an entire towel to stop the bleeding from a papercut... you know what I mean. But this sucked. And I tried so hard to just not worry about it. To just let it go until I knew exactly what was wrong, but it's hard. I started thinking about all those things, that no thirty year old woman should be thinking about. Who will take care of Kade and know all his little indiosyncrasies? What will my Chris do? And it's stupid, it really is, because at that point I knew little. All I knew was that I hurt, big time. The pain in my abdomen doubled me over. For the first time since I started back to work, I took a day off. The pain went on for over a month, until I couldn't bear it anymore and then I went back to the doctor.

Here's the funny part. The pain was on the wrong side. It was my left ovary that had the cyst. My right side was the side that hurt. All tests came back normal (except for that ovary). Finally my doc had an "Aha" moment. I had more than one problem. He thought I was passing a kidney stone. Nope. But it did turn out that I had a severe kidney infection, as well as, the troublesome ovary. So yesterday, I went to the specialist to find out about that ovary. And the result? I am fine!!!!!!!!! Thank goodness! I am to take follow up tests just to be sure, but he doesn't believe I have ovarian cancer. It would be as rare as winning the lottery for someone my age. Now, my luck, my damn ovary will win me the fucking lottery and keel me over. But we won't go there.

Chris' prospects are looking up, too. People are calling. Interviews are happening. Even though the economy has gone to shit, we haven't lost much to the stock market. We are going to okay, I think. But you know, sometimes you need these things to happen. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes you need a little jolt or scare to put things back into perspective. Don't get me wrong, I still hope Advance goes belly up and people realize what a heartless corporation they are. But I still have my Chris and my Kade and my health. Besides, it can rain all it wants. Because after it rains, there's always a chance for a rainbow.

Volatile

2008-08-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

I never said I had an even temper. I know I can be quite mean and explosive when provoked, it's just that I have learned over the years to control such things. There are times to be angry and times to just let it go. I get annoyed quite often; people mistake this for anger. It's not. You would know if you'd angered me. I'd really like to say I don't believe in hitting people. I'd like to say that, but if you saw the images that play through my mind, half the world would've been sucker-punched by now. I don't DO it, just imagine it.

But the other day, I was THIS close. It scared the hell out of me. Often, people will annoy me, so I envision them as a weeble wobble type of toy that I punch a few times. This makes me smile, annoyance forgotten, I move on. But this chick at work... she just triggered something. It wasn't even a big deal, almost petty. But the way she spoke to me, shoving me out of the way... I almost lost it. I stood there for a few minutes, feeling the heat rise up from toes to the top of my head. I saw my fist reel back and fly forward, punching her square in nose. I saw her fly back to the ground, blood pouring out of a huge gash in her nose. I saw all this in my head, I didn't do it. And although there was a certain satisfaction of seeing her brought down, the anger didn't leave. No, this was true anger. I had to remove myself from the situation, because my fist did start clenching at my side.

So I walked to the back calmly. Made myself drink some water. Stood for a few minutes. Walked back to the front, where she was. I called her over and made clear in no uncertain terms that she was never to speak to me that way again. She started to bicker, but I growled her name and she backed down. Two of my bosses came over, saw my expression when I glared their way and decided it was best to take my side. But the anger still did not go away.

A few people walked by and I gave them my sunniest smile. I even complimented a few people, forcing myself to be the sweetest angel ever. The entire day, people noted how friendly I seemed. If they only knew.

I'm not sure what part of her gesture or actions triggered this. I don't know why I became SO angry. Sure, she was in the wrong. After all, at the time, I had been trying to help her. But to become so angry that I could barely control myself? Ugh, weak and unforgivable. In the end, the person I'm most angry with is myself for allowing her to get to me.

The Most Traumatic Day Of Your Life

2008-07-29T21:22:00.000-07:00

What two posts back to back? She must be crazy!

I've been meaning to write this for quite awhile. It's just hard to put the words out there. Yeah so okay. Hmm, where to begin. I guess I've just not gotten over Death. Not my Death, I've not experienced that lately, else this would be one miraculous post... I've not really gotten over anyone's Death. And it's capitalized, because it's an experience worth respect, I guess. If you do not stop for Death, it will stop for you. Heh. Well, I stopped and capitalized it, so it can f*** off.

You know how you just live your life day to day and go on, really don't think much of it, then BAM, someone dies. And it kind of takes your breath away how it all goes so fast. Well, it seems like the more and more I try to go on living, the more and more BAMS that come my way. They're not immediate people to me, though. Or else, I'd probably be in a cocoon of blankets on my bed. Why is nothing coming out right?

I guess I just try to keep on going and in doing so, I block out that they're dead. So a couple of months down the road, I'll end up asking my Chris about so and so and he'll give me a horrified look. Or suddenly in the middle of a workday, I'll think of something they did and realize, oh my goodness, they died and I'll never see them again. Even though I probably wouldn't have called them were they still alive. So I'll be standing there with a sad look, what am I supposed to say? My friend died... eighteen months ago. Had it been the day before, people would understand, but almost two years and they're like wtf? I guess I'm just really good at denial.

So my mom called on the fourth of July, which in my family is one of the saddest days of the year. And I forgot my Gran died that day. And I forgot to console my Mom, even though I wondered why she sounded so sad. And then, she told me that a distant cousin of mine died in a freak accident. So okay, now I've got a picture of him on the fridge, so I won't block it. And a friend of the family died a week ago, so I've got his picture in the living room. I've been making myself look at it, so I won't block him out.

I don't go to funerals often anymore. So I don't have the funeral memories to remind me of Death. I can't handle the funerals. Not for anyone. It could be YOUR distant cousin and I will break the fuck down into a mess.

And now I'm thinking of what my Death would be like. How it will happen, what will happen after, how will Kade and my Chris be? And damn it, my vanity, one of the biggest drivers of all things Ari, wants to know who will show up. Who will forget me? What will they say? Will they really be sad? I keep thinking to myself that I HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO come back as a ghost. I will WILL this to happen. If I should fall before Kade's grown I WILL myself back as a ghost to take care of him. I promise not to scare him in the shower. Not that I do that now. Okay, but I only did that once and it was really funny. Maybe twice, because he's seriously gullible.

I don't really understand this Death thing. How can someone be there one minute and not the next? How come I can cry buckets of tears because John Doe down the block's brother died, but I barely shed one tear for my own anymore? I can speak calmly about him. Or not talk at all. I do know that when I finally do die, I won't go quietly. I won't be a small snuff of flame. It will be traumatic for me, because I will fight it every step of the way. Death can come for me, but not without a strong kick to the nuts. When God asks why I kicked Death, I'll deny the whole thing. What Death?

Meet the 1 person...

2008-07-28T18:34:00.000-07:00

that did NOT like "The Dark Knight". Yeah, I said it. For virgin eyes, please do not read further, because A) I am about to spoil the movie for you or B) I am about to cuss and say things that would make a drunken sailor blush.

Where do I even begin? Ok, first off, my Chris tells me I overanalyze things too much. Tch, fine. But whatever, when I am told I am getting steak, I expect steak, damn it.

Christian Bale's definition of acting like Batman is to make his voice so raspy, you can barely understand what the hell he is supposed to be saying. Was he drinking broken glass? Did Christopher Nolan skullf*** his throat so hard, he could only deliver those lines like that? Did he realize that Heath Ledger's measly ten minutes worth of acting overshadowed him, so he wanted more attention?! I don't know! I don't care. Christian Bale sucks donkey balls. He sucked in American Psycho and he sucks now. He is a cheesy representation that the world will accept mediocrity. Not only accept it, but MAAAAAARVEL in it. Bale fails.

I do like that these new Batman movies are darker than the original ones, I do. I never really accepted Michael Caine as Alfred in the first movie. He's too well-known to play such a sub-par role. It would be like asking Morgan Freeman to be the weapon supplier for Bruce Wayne... oh wait... !!!

Why is it that Batman can figure a way to fly over Japan, but he can't figure out a way to fly away from dogs at the end of the movie? "Is my suit dog proof?" "No, it might be able to take out a cat." ... THAT'S GREAT WRITING!?!?!? That's stupid!!! Seriously! Batman is supposedly able to oh I don't know, take bullets, knives, body blows, whatever, but get near a dog.... oh damn all hell breaks loose! Not dogs, no! Save me from the thought! The torture of it all! The torture of hearing Commissioner Gordon go into a soliloquoy about how Batman is a true hero, a dark knight! Pussy boy can't even take a doberman!

The batmobile. Not sexy. Clunky. Idiotic and I wouldn't drive it if you paid me. So if I wouldn't drive this fuglymobile, why would you give it to a superhero? Why can't people think of better instead of bigger? And not just that, let me tell you, a long movie doesn't mean it's great. Just because the movie is two and a half hours does not mean it is a better movie. My ten year old son was yawning at that point. Editors, do your job. For the love of all that's holy, EDIT!

Be that as it may, I didn't like that Scarecrow had a two second air time. Two-face was barely in the movie to be called a villain, but Harvey Dent sure was there with his big white teeth! Ugh. The Joker was there throughout, but only in snippets. He only gets two long scenes and in it he keeps saying the same type of delivery. I thought after seeing the movie poster with the "Why so serious?" tagline, that the Joker would say that once in a very poignant part of the movie and we'd all be like "WOW!!!", but instead he just keeps saying it. Heath Ledger did a good job with what he was given, but he wasn't given enough. Why won't they ever go into Joker's psyche? Why will directors and writers never touch this? Go into his mind. Mind fuck the audience into oblivion! I want it, I do! Make him more insane! You know what, instead of the cardboard acting of Christian Bale as Batman, why not instead call the movie The Joker and have it all be from his point of view, only letting Batman in at needed battle scenes? Because that would be too creative for the world to handle. Because that would involve actual character developement. That would involve actual WRITING. We all know there aren't any true writers anymore. Just hacks who take what's already out there and spin it a different way and say "Oh look what I did!" As if that is true accomplishment.

This movie can go ahead and break all box office records. It can do whatever the hell it wants. It only proves to me that people can be served shit on a plate, be told it's steak and BELIEVE IT. I don't believe it. Shit on a plate is always shit on a plate, no matter how many times people try to tell me it's steak. You can all revel in mediocrity. I'll be over here, dreaming of perfection.

For Charles

2008-06-21T20:33:00.000-07:00

I haven't gone anywhere. Life has just gotten in the way for me, unfortunately. The good news is that I was promoted back to back, so I am in a much higher position. Bad news is that I don't have the free time I once had. Plus we got a pool, so that's eating into my down time. I won't lie. It's a great pool.

Funny thing is that I thought about Charles the other day. We had gone to Gamestop to pick out a few new games (that I will forget about and never play *cough*TombraiderLegend*cough*). I came across the Hack game series and was like "wow, Charles!" Chris looked at me funny, because he has no clue who he is. Hahaha. I miss ya, buddy. I do. I miss everyone really. Sigh.

I had sushi the other night for the first time. Yum!! Me likey. Wasabi tastes just like hot mustard to me. I loved it, don't get me wrong, but I thought it'd be spicier. It was at a buffet type restaurant with lots of asian food. The sushi bar was way in the back, which made me afraid to take any, lest the chef pop out and be all "No, this costs more!" But actually, he was really nice and explained what they all were. I had the eel, crab and one that was a mixture of every color. That last one was my favorite; I swear I tasted cream cheese in there, which was odd, but very tasty. The waitress came by and game me a look. She couldn't speak english, but oddly enough I catch onto hand gestures pretty quickly. She gestured that I was to add the soy sauce into the wasabi. Blaspheme, I say! But I did it anyway, so as to not be rude. She was right, totally good. I would say that I should listen to hand gestures more often, but then again there was that bananaman in the supermarket...

My husband, being the free spender he is, balked at the check. I rolled my eyes, thinking wow, how much extra could the sushi have cost? But he just shook his head and was all, "This can't be right." I looked over and the check was for nineteen dollars. No joke. Nineteen bucks for three people to eat. My son's dinner was a dollar ninety-five. You can't even get a happy meal for that. So my Chris starts arguing with the cashier. "You're not charging me enough. You can't be." And the cashier, flustered because really how often does that happen, was like "No, that's right. Three dinners and three drinks." Wow. That is our new favorite restaurant. I can't even order pizza without spending thirty dollars. We tipped very well, don't worry.

I always get a food coma after eating out at a restaurant. On the drive home, I don't talk and just concentrate on digesting. I think it's the whole "we-paid-for-all-this-food-and-we're-going-to-eat-it" mentality. I hate wasting food. Being hypoglycemic, I get tired after eating large quantities of food. The sushi coma was something else. I was less tired and more "oh my lord, I will pop any second!" Restaurants need to work on portion control. If it's there I can't leave it. I paid for it! Either that or I need to start taking humongous doggy bags home. I don't know if I spelled humongous right. Oh well. I should say though, the sushi coma was my fault, being that it was a buffet. But Applebees is terrible on their portions. Who can eat all that? Giants maybe, but how often do they get those in Applebees? Probably a lot, because have you seen their stools they use for the table? I need a ladder to get on those. Everytime I walk in that joint, I feel like I'm a kid trying to sit at the grown-ups table. At thirty-one, I shouldn't need to ask for a booster seat. S'all I'm saying.

Anyhow, I am good. I'm not going anywhere. I'll try to post more and respond back to other bloggers. But if I'm not around for awhile, just think of me floating in the pool while my Chris fans me with a giant leaf. And where shall he find a giant leaf? Duh, Applebees.

Rattled

2008-04-18T09:08:00.000-07:00

I woke up to my Chris telling me that he felt tremors this morning. He went online a short while later to find out that southern Illinois had an earthquake. Weeeeeeeird. So I was like, "Ok, whatever. That'll never happen again."

I work late tonight, which means I don't have to go in until the afternoon. So I thought to myself, "Eh, why not take a nap beforehand?" We have one of those beds that has a big wooden headpiece at the front of the bed. On it is this giant mirror with lights. Anyway, I was almost asleep when I felt like I was shaking. I lifted my head up to find the mirror rattling. I froze there for a second, thinking that this giant two hundred pound headboard was about to come crashing down on me. Then I unfroze and reached for the phone. I called my Chris, but he felt nothing. I have to tell you that that was the scariest thing in the world, because I had absolutely no control over it. I felt so helpless. I could hear my whole house shaking.

He called me back about ten minutes later to tell me it was an aftershock. Holy crap, if that's an aftershock, I'd hate to be in the real thing. Anyway, today I felt my first earthquake. Or something lesser, but close to it.

I am never going to ever live in California. I'll take tornados over this shit anyday.

Look Who's Back!

2008-02-09T22:58:00.000-08:00

Lookie!

Random Stuff

2008-02-03T00:59:00.000-08:00

Emily (I always did like that name. For some reason, I just found out her name was Emily. I always referred to her as "The Mad Secretary.") posted a comment about Angelina Jolie's lips in my previous entry. And while I can agree that those things are monstrous, they at least appear natural. I cannot say the same for this chick. *shakes head sadly* She'll look like Joan Rivers in ten years. It's sad. Emily, thank you, for pointing out an annoyance I forgot: Ladies, learn to love yourself the way you are. You can get your lips injected, your boobs done, whatever, but you'll look like an alien afterwards. Oscar de la Hoya's niece looks like he punched her in the mouth a few times. It's just not sexy. That combined with the fake boobs and overplucked eyebrows... ugh, she's one back tattoo away from plain trash.

I am typing this at three in the morning, because I feel awful. I either ate something that didn't agree with me, or I'm coming down with the flu. Either way, I keep running to the bathroom every two minutes, because I feel like I'm gonna be sick. It hasn't happened yet, but I know it's coming. I hate feeling nauseated. I took a Pepto thinking it might help, but no such luck. I just went to the bathroom to check my throat... black tongue. FREAK THE F*** OUT. Are you kidding me? I had a black tongue. So I brushed my tongue and that went away. A google search let me know I'm fine, it's just a reaction to the Pepto. I'm not gonna lie though, that scared the shit out of me. I thought I was turning goth.

I still can't get over that girl's fish lips. She's from Rock of Love 2. It's an addiction of mine that I'm not proud of. I just can't help watching a trainwreck in progress. He always keeps the dipshittiest girls, I swear. She's one of 'em. Watch her talk. She doesn't move her face at all, just her lips. Hilarious.

You know if we had a major natural disaster that wiped out the planet, only cockroaches and Joan Rivers would survive. You do know that, right? No part of her is real. I think she's a robot by now. Just skin stretched over metal. You can tell by the way she repeats herself. It's a glitch in the software. And that heah heah heah cackle she has? It's all computer generated, people. Trust me, my fever induced brain knows these things.

Commercials for food do not help nausea.

Remember in the '90's, that Buns of Steel chick? Whatever happened to her? I bet she was a robot, too. They probably dismantled her. Her internal parts have now been refitted to keep the newest version of the energizer bunny going. Don't think you're fooling me, Duracell. That is NOT the same bunny of yesteryear!

I keep thinking my commas are semi-colons, because my monitor is THAT dirty. I should probably clean it, but we both know I'm just going to sit and stare at it every few seconds.

I almost got recruited to the army the other day. He was a fast talker, thought he had this recruit all wrapped and sealed in a bag. Then I told him my husband just got his official thirty year retirement papers. So he asked me, "How old is he?" Keep your jokes to yourself. I told him and he looked at me strange and said, "How old are YOU?!" To which I replied, "Thirty." He laughed, "Your husband joined the year you were born." After he waited for me to give him a punchline, I said, "I'm still thirty." He thought about that for a minute and said, "I'm sorry, I thought you were like twenty." So I made him a deal. I would be twenty, but I wouldn't join the army. And that my friends, is how I instantly became ten years younger. You should try it sometime, it's good for the ego. Don't even try to doubt me, I have an official from the United States gov't willing to testify that I look twenty. So now I am. In two months, I'll be twenty-one. Then I can drink legally. I'm looking forward to it.

Time goes by slowly when you're twenty going on twenty-one. I never realized that before.

Wow it took me an hour to type this. I think I heard a bird chirping outside. Or I'm delusional. If it's a bird, I should probably get some sleep. If I'm delusional, I should still get some sleep, that way I'll be well rested when I wake up to carry on these delusions. Actually, they wouldn't be delusions, more like hallucinations, but that's just my psychology textbook talking. It really does talk too. Right now it's sitting in the corner asking me "How does that make you feel?" To which I'd have to reply, "Nauseated and a little bit sleepy."

Annoyances

2008-01-12T17:36:00.000-08:00

Sheryl Crow - Listening to her twangy sniveling voice is worse than nails on a chalkboard. Plus, she totally seems like a pretentious jerk. I've never met her in person, so it's hard to judge. But then again, I don't want to meet her. I hope cyclist runs over her ass.
Two Tone Hair - Highlights can be absolutely gorgeous and flattering when done correctly. When blended with natural colors, the hair looks beautiful and healthy. I never understood the whole two tone hair phenomenon that seems to be ravaging the heads of youth lately. Why would a person go out of their way to look like trash? Specifically the lighter hair on top and the darker hair underneath it. Gross. The skunk look was never "in" in my book.
Angelina Jolie - Would you fucking eat already!?
The parents of Britney Spears - You people are the absolute worst parents I have ever witnessed. She needs help. Get her some. The girl is off the wall bonkers. Quit trying to ignore this shit and for the love of all things holy, help her. If my daughter were acting like her, I'd do everything I could and if she still didn't listen, I whoop her ass until the sun went down. I wouldn't just throw up my hands and say, "She won't cooperate." I think she needs a little meet and greet with my Gram's slotted spoon. That thing hurt like hell.
Paparazzi - Get a real job.
Magazines - Quit supporting the papparazzi.
White trash teenagers - Yeah, I said it. I guess if you're a white trash teen, you can't really help where you came from. But that doesn't mean you have to act like it. Conduct yourself properly at the grocery market. This means, get the fuck out of my way, no one and I do mean no one, cares about what Bobby did last night. Stop being loud. Wash your pants, because mud stains (I sincerely hope those were mud stains) are never attractive. Comb your hair. You can even brush it. Either one, but when I see your poor excuse for a mother buying alcohol for you guys, laughing about how she's a cool mom and you don't even have enough hygenic sense to comb your fucking hair... it's enough to make me want to take you out of the gene pool. Run you over with my shopping cart, do the world a bit of good. Watch out, because you make me want to buy a bb gun.
The Pretentious Shopper - Oh, and this one is my all time favorite. Note my sarcasm. These douchebags come in all varieties. They can be young or old, any race, any gender. What sets them apart from other shoppers is the fact that they believe they are more important than anyone else. All staff must immediately help them and only them, or they will throw a tantrum the size of an atom bomb. It doesn't matter how many people have waited patiently in line before them. It doesn't matter if they got to the store the last hour of a one week advertisement, which means that of course, that store will be out of whatever they need. No, their tardiness does not matter. The only thing that matters to these snooty pricks is that they get what they want NOW. Failure to do so will leave them screaming not only to the staff, but to any other shopper around them. They will declare that they will never shop at that store again, only to be back a week later adamantly crying that they need help. These people never got enough hugs as children; their parents supplied love with a credit card. They always get what they want with little to no work involved. All the problems on this planet derive from these people. They are the ones that complain about smoking so that laws are changed, only to drive around in the biggest SUV's. They are the ones that decry drinking, well unless it's good wine, of course. They are the people that cut you off on a highway. They are the ones that believe their children shouldn't have to follow rules or regulations. They demand service, damn it, because to make them wait would make them question their own existence. Holy hell, doesn't EVERYONE know that their needs come before OURS?!
Apathy - Don't not care. It's the worst thing you could ever do.

The Power Of A One Hour Soak

2008-01-05T13:07:00.000-08:00

If you've ever worked at a zoo, then changed jobs, you will notice that the coworkers aren't that different than the animals. If one were to ask me which animals I currently work with, it'd have to be chimpanzees. It is very much like that commercial with the guy that works with chimps. The chimps are having a party until the guy puts up the chart the correct way, revealing that sales have gone down. The chimps then reset the chart back to its previous state and continue with their party. The only difference in my situation is that chimpanzees by nature are actually pretty smart animals. My coworkers... not so much. Incompetence comes to mind, but I digress.

I've had the most pitiful work week. I am a very indulgent person. So when things get down, I indulge myself a little more than usual. We ate out, because cooking was far too much for my mind to handle at that point. I talked to Mom, because I needed the comfort and understanding. I soaked for an hour in the bathtub, because the dryness in the air had so ravaged my skin to the point where my legs were completely red and flaky. Gross. I got out of the bathtub and changed straight into a nightgown. Silk. Long. Gorgeous. Because I needed to feel pretty.

I went to go cuddle with my Chris, but felt a presence behind me. I turned to find my Kade standing behind me with his nose in the air. Strange child. I walked a few steps more and he followed. The dogs were going crazy because I had dared to walk into the room without acknowledging their presence. I greeted them, then continued on my way to my Chris with my tagalong in tow.

When I went cuddle up to him, Kade flopped on my lap, his nose buried in my neck.

"She smells really good, Dad."

Chris took the hint, then I had both noses in my neck.

If we lived in the animal kingdom, perhaps a few hours before, I'd have been a lioness stalking my latest kill, eyeing with great intensity this chimp who had the audacity to come within my territory. But at that moment, with my two males beside me, I had my claws tucked safely away. For that moment, I was completely docile.

Two Angels Visited Me

2007-12-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

My cousin, Lesley, brought her family down for a visit last week. And with them, she brought tons of pictures of Keiara and the new baby, Raychelle. I just feel obligated to share them, because these two are the cutest girls you'll ever see.

Do you see that look in her eye? She's a total diva.

Raychelle is always smiling. Even though she's only five months, she reached her arms out to me, grabbed my cheeks, pulled them toward her and gave me a kiss. It was the cutest thing.

Keiara comforts her sister.

Raychelle shows off her tush.

The whole family.

Yay

2007-11-30T15:51:00.001-08:00

Chris is getting an early Christmas present. A new truck! He's bringing it home tonight before the ice storm hits. I'll update with pics when he gets here. Even though it's not my truck, I'm still really excited. Besides, we're married, so what's his is mine and what's mine is mine. Hehehe.

Bug

2007-11-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

We rent movies every week. We rent them, we watch them, we take them back. And when I say "we", I mean "me," because more often than not, Chris uses this time for a healthy nap. I kid you not. That is why we rent, rather than seeing the movie on the big screen. There's nothing more embarrassing than when other movie-goers glare over at my snoring husband, while they are trying to enjoy the movie. He'll deny it, but it's true. In the ten years we've been together, I think he has only successfully made it through four or five movies. I rent the movies, because if I let him do it, he'll bring me stuff I've already seen. He has no idea what we've already rented. He never gets to watch any of it.

I don't let this stop me, though. My faithful guy sits next to me anyway, even though we both know he'll never truly enjoy the movie. I don't have to watch it alone... even if he is asleep. I love him so. I should send him flowers or something.

Anyway, I rented "Bug". I thought it would be an alien movie with bugs somehow trying to take over their bodies. And if you haven't seen this movie, this is the time to click out of this blog. Yes, I'm going to tell you what happens. I got through about half of the movie with a slight boredom. There's no real action that takes place, mostly dialogue. And that's fine, it's just not what I had expected. The real drama involves the personalities and minds of the characters in the film. I finished the movie in shock and disgust. I can't say I liked the movie, but I couldn't pinpoint why (other than the bait and switch of the trailer.) I can't stand it when they hype a movie to be something it's not.

So I let this one marinate for awhile. It's been over a week and now I think I know why I don't like it. I keep thinking back to Ashley Judd's character and why they made her out the way they did. Basically, she's an extremely reclusive person. She lives alone in poor conditions. It's clear from the beginning that she lives her life scared. So I kept waiting to find out why.

Apparently, she'd lost her son. She'd been shopping and turned away. Suddenly, her son vanished. They never truly make it clear, but you kind of have to chalk it up to the fact that he'd been kidnapped. She never sees him again. Her ex-husband is an abusive convict that just got out of prison. He makes an appearance (gotta love Harry Connick Jr.) but his character never really makes all that big of an impact. So all this combined makes this woman a shit-scared pathetic mess.

In walks the drifter. Sigh. So this drifter somehow works his way into her life. Turns out he's clearly unhinged, believes that he's a medical experiment with bugs in his body. So what does the woman do? She believes him. Yeah. I know. Somehow she gets herself all worked up in HIS delusion, so that now it's HER delusion, too. At the end, they wind up dousing each other with gasoline and lighting themselves on fire. Ya know, to get rid of those pesky invisible bugs.

From a psychological stand-point, you'd think that I'd like this film. I have to admit that the fact that she gets involved in his delusion is interesting. But from a woman and a mother's stand-point, I'm disgusted. They paint a picture of a woman, who's been through a lot. She's been abused. She's lost a son. The writer uses the pain of that experience to show that she is somehow weak and more prone to falling into this delusion. THAT is what disgusts me. They could have picked any type of character, any type of situation, any type of personality for this woman, but instead they chose to use a child-less mother. As if that mother is somehow not as good as a normal mother, as if she is somehow defective in her mind to be more susceptable to this. They actually USE this experience to involve her in the delusion of bugs.

Even though it's just a movie, this type of judgement that the writer used to form this character is the same type of judgement people use on a daily basis. And I know that they never say her son is dead, but it's the loss of the child that is so painful. You know, it probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if I didn't face this shit anytime someone found out I'd lost a child. There is that mixed look of shock, horror and disgust that flits through a person's face when I tell them, but ultimately it ends on pity. And I know it's hard to judge how one should react to such news. To tell you the truth, I never saw any of these underlying tones to people before it happened. But when a woman says they'd lost a child, I guarantee that one of the FIRST things a person thinks is that somehow she is defective, whether biologically or the fact that maybe she is not a good mother. And you know what really gets me? "Do you take anti-depressants?" No, I do not fucking take anti-depressants to get through the pain. Yes, people have said that to me. Honestly, I don't think people really think about what they say sometimes. But it's that judgement that bothers me. I don't know if people know they do it, but it's there. And it's there in this movie.

I am not defective. I am quite sane. I do live a happy life. I am strong. And I am just one of many other woman that have lost children that are quite fine. Just because a woman has lost a child or been abused does not mean she will start believing there are bugs in her body. Honestly, this was the most poorly-written excuse for a character I've ever witnessed. But the movie did live up to its name in one aspect... It did "bug" me.

I Get It From Her

2007-10-18T16:50:00.000-07:00

I often find myself in strange situations that I'm unsure how to get myself out of. Oftentimes, these tend to be the rather amusing stories that I put up here for kicks and giggles. After a few phone calls to my mother, I'm starting to realize that this kind of thing might be hereditary. And so, I will begin telling you the tale that was told to me a few weeks ago about how my mother ended up with a Neighborhood Watch that consisted of turkeys. Yes, you read that correctly.

***

She had noticed the turkeys had passed through her yard a couple of times. They were missing their mother. None of them were tagged; they were indeed true wild turkeys. Grown enough they were, but not quite grown up to fend for themselves completely. They might have passed through entirely had she not put out birdseed in a feeder that just happened to be perfect turkey height. So they stayed. She called me in amazement that they had stayed.

"You fed them!" I laughed back at her, "Of course they stayed!"

They became used to John and her. In fact, you could say they adopted my mother and stepfather. She didn't allow them in the house, but they did follow them wherever they went outside. Even if it was back and forth all throughout the yard as John mowed the grass, or checked the mailbox. One of them is always getting herself into trouble. My mother named her Molly.

Eventually, they began to explore. My mother's neighbors are another entry entirely. They are truly eccentric in that they copy whatever she does. My mother made a garden, did landscaping and before you know it, they all began doing it, too. So it stands to reason that the neighbors started feeding the turkeys, became friendly with them and so on. You could almost make a case that the turkeys knew who belonged in that neighborhood and who did not. So when an unaware jogger came bounding down the pavement, you can guess she was probably pretty shocked to find a flock of turkeys chasing her down. They were relentless, until she left, then they came about and strutted their way home.

Let's just say that I'll be a bit suspicious if my mother sends a frozen turkey for Christmas.

Learning To Accept People For Whom They Are

2007-10-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

What happens when you put a recluse in a position where they MUST mingle with all types of society? Well, she either flops or succeeds, that's what. The outcome is a day-to-day trial of patience.

I work with all kinds. There are good hard workers, lazy slobs, back-talkers, degenerates, idiots, clowns and most are friends now. I don't know how I reconcile the fact that I adore them, but they make my job a living hell. There are a few angels in the midst, where if it weren't for them, I'd have cut my losses and moved on by now. The odd thing is that I LOVE my job. LOVE IT. It took me a year, but now I'm really starting to flourish. My work is getting done, despite the fact that I have to do about five other people's jobs, along with my own (because again, they're too lazy). But I'm learning not only how to adapt to different people, but to accept them. I don't accept their bad qualities, but I do accept the fact that no one is perfect. I have bad qualities of my own... which include throwing temper tantrums and venting when I realize I have to yet again fix someone else's mistakes.

And still, tomorrow I will probably want to recant all of this, because they piss me off daily, but right now I adore my coworkers. They're sort of like an extended family. I have to forgive their imperfections.

Am I babbling? What the hell?

I guess what it all boils down is that in my home, if I need something in order to get a job done, I get it. Whether the boys get it for me or I get it on my own (the boys will say that the latter never happens, but they're just jealous because I'm prettier) I get it and the job is done. Chris is very good at making my life comfortable. NOT SO AT WORK!!!!! If something needs to be done, I know I'm going to be the one that has to do it. I know I can not depend on anyone. It sucks, because I want to depend on them. I guess it was a shock to me. If I told Chris, "The yard needs mowing." I know it will get mowed promptly. If I tell Joe Schmoe at work, "This needs done." I get a blank stare.

Secretly, I am beginning to like those blank stares. The less they do, the more I do, the more I accomplish. Things are turning around because of me. No one else. I did this. Not them. I never say it, but they know it's true. I love that sense of accomplishment. I love it so much, that the other weekend, I came home and cleaned the house, so I could feel accomplishment at home. The boys were completely bewildered and a little grumpy that I asked them to pitch in. Granted, I haven't done a damn thing since, only out of sheer exhaustion, though.

I've written all this mainly because, while it is hard to accept others, it's even more surprising to not know I had all these attributes within me. I guess I had always accepted the fact that I was spoiled and didn't HAVE to do anything. And while I still don't have to, I do. I do because I want to. I never really knew I had it in me. Maybe I have to learn to accept that I have more to give, to learn, to grow, to achieve. This isn't all there is to me.

A Call For Help

2007-09-23T17:25:00.000-07:00

We headed out to go to a powow (not sure how to spell that) on Saturday, when Chris got a call. There was a veteran who'd fallen behind on his bills. So far behind that although he paid his rent on time, he hadn't eaten in a few days, hadn't had his medication in a few months. We met up with Elaine and Deb.

Let me tell you about these two extraordinary women. Deb is the one that had gotten the call from the vet. She immediately sprang into action, calling necessary people, so that we could all go help. She did this despite the fact that her daughter-in-law was in labor two states away. She should have gotten on the road to go see her new grandbaby, anyone would have understood. But she didn't. Instead she delayed seeing her new grandbaby, so that she could be there to help this vet. Amazing woman.

Then there's Elaine. She, herself, is a vet. She was an Army nurse in Vietnam. To this day, she works at the veteran's home, taking good care of our vets. She just learned how to ride a motorcycle. When she dropped the bike in training classes, the instructor told her she wouldn't ride. Elaine told her, "Oh yes I will. The only reason I am learning is so that I can ride for our vets. I paid my money. Now you will teach me." And she learned.

We all met up and went to this veteran's home. He didn't have much. Rail-thin, it was immediately apparent he needed help. Perhaps it was the threat of starving or perhaps he'd just had enough, he finally had called for help. "I'm sixty-two years old," he said, "This is the first time I've ever asked for help."

Elaine went over all his paperwork. The VA had classified him incorrectly. On paper, it appeared he was drowning in wealth, but when taken into account all the bills he had to pay, it was clear she had to do something. The first thing was to make sure he ate. The second thing was to make sure he got his meds. He had a heart condition, as well as diabetes. He had heart medication that he was supposed to be taking daily, but given the fact that he had run out of money, he was hoarding them away, taking them only once a week. The third thing was to help him out in the long run. He had had two open-heart surgeries in the past. They had discharged him from the hospital, leaving him to drive himself home and take care of himself. I listened as he told me how hard it was that first week out of surgery. He had gone it alone.

Elaine, Deb and Joel went out grocery shopping with Elaine talking to the pharmacist and paying for a week's worth of his medication. He had six different ones, one of them being seven dollars a pill (it adds up to about $200 a month for just one of his medications). This woman has a heart of gold, I tell ya. I stayed behind to speak with him some more. I wanted to reiterate the fact that he shouldn't feel ashamed or be too proud to ask for help. There are lots of people willing to help. I wanted to build his comfort level with us, because I was afraid that once we left, he'd not go back to the VA. Elaine's husband, Ken and my Chris spoke with him, too, reassuring him that he more than deserved to get his benefits.

Once Elaine and Deb returned, Deb and I set about putting his groceries away. I discovered an opened can of sweet potatos and a plate of moldy lunch meat in his fridge. Nothing else. It broke my heart. Elaine had called the VA, set about getting new paperwork, so that they could make sure it was all filled out correctly. She explained everything to him, as well as, making sure he understood all of his medications and when to take them, etc. I had gone out to the car to get a bottle of soda Chris had bought me. I hadn't wanted it, now I am so glad I hadn't drunk any of it. I gave it to him in the hopes it would bring his sugar level up a bit. He seemed to enjoy it.

I had also called my boss in the hopes that I could see about getting a tracphone donated to him. He didn't have a phone; I was worried that if something happened, he had no way to call for help. Being that he'd gone so long without his meds, every bad scenario came to my mind. We gave him a bit of money for gas, so that he could make his next VA appointment.

As we all hugged good-bye, he broke down a bit, telling us that we'd probably just saved his life. Joel and Ken spoke up and said, "No, brother, you saved ours."

We eventually did get to the powow. It was amazing, but this veteran certainly will stay in my heart for a very long time. He is just one of many that gets lost in our system, but perhaps if we take it one by one, we can make a difference. He certainly made a difference to us.

To My Little Boy

2007-08-26T20:20:00.000-07:00

...who isn't so little anymore,

Happy 9th Birthday, Kade. You are growing up so fast.

To Whom This May Concern

2007-07-20T16:45:00.000-07:00

And so it happened. The entire world collectively got together and decided that this was the day to piss me off. I can take a lot. I can. Really. Don't make that face, I really can. But I have this temper you see, it's monumental. For the most part, I can keep it in check, but when I have trigger after trigger after trigger firing at me... well, I tend to lose it. It's an extraordinary explosion, too. It's kind of like a Hannibal-Lector-I-would-rather-bite-your-ear-off-than-back-down-from-this-argument type of explosion. Not that I've ever bitten an ear off. Okay, a lip once, but that was totally by accident. No, it was not my own lip. Woops.

So having read all that, you should understand that there's a lot I need to get out. I need to just have my exlposion and be done with it. Pardon my french, while we're at it, because it's about to get uh ga lay up in here.

To my boss' boss, who just can't seem to understand that it's near impossible for me to do my own job when I'm kind of in the middle of fucking DOING EVERYONE ELSE'S: You are complete and inept fool. One that I would just love to pull through the building by the hair, so you can see what true stress is. P.S. You're a bitch.

To the posers that think that since they ride a bike on the weekend, they are hardcore: You haven't met hardcore until you've met me in a dark alley about two days into PMS. Fuck off, pussies and let me give you a clue. There are all types of bikers. But you're not hardcore if 90% of your time is spent in a suit. Fucking peacocks that need a bike to feed their ego. You want something to be proud of? Come down from Chicago and try to get through an argument with me without huddling into the fetal position while sobbing uncontrollably. Now THAT would be an accomplishment.

To the salon lady that did not listen to a damn word I said: You know, I lost about twelve inches of hair. Would it have KILLED you to believe me when I said I have a LOT of hair? Would it have killed you to thin the back layers of my hair, you know, the part where it's the thickest? I was so tempted to go back and slam your face into that big salon mirror you so love gazing into, but after a little thought and some leave-in conditioner, I've decided I kind of like my new cut, so you're off the hook. Barely.

To the people that made the remake of Hairspray: How many fucking Hairsprays do we need?! We got it the first time with Ricki Lake. And really, John Travolta!? You douchebags, now I'll HAVE to see it. If only to make fun of Travolta in a dress.

To the lady that cannot drive: It's a stop sign, BECAUSE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO STOP, BITCH!!!!!!!! You're lucky I have great brakes, or I swear you'd have paid through the nose for any damage done to my car. And then, I'd have probably would've laid your ass out on the ground, just because you made me swerve. Do society a favor and take the damn bus, before you kill someone. Namely, me.

To iTunes: No, I don't want to install the latest update every two fucking minutes, so stop giving me that damn pop-up while I'm trying to write a blog entry, or I will hurl this monitor across the room and then physically track down Jobs and make him pay for it!!!!

To my next victim: I've now got a short-circuit of about two seconds and a helluva powerful kick, so either get the fuck out of my way or go buy some insurance, because trust me, you're gonna need it.

Dream A Little Dream

2007-06-30T10:33:00.000-07:00

In a lot of ways, I am not like other people. I realize this, but at the same time, I think there are some universal quirks that unite people the world over... like eating the cheese that gets stuck to the wrapper of your cheeseburger. Obviously, I'm not the only one that does this, as one of the fast food chains just had a commercial on it. The thing is that before this commercial, I felt self-conscious about it. Because there's the cheese on the paper looking so edible but if I pick it off and eat it in public, will I look weird?! Now I won't feel so bad about doing it.

I want to see if one of my own personal little quirks might not only be mine. Maybe other people do this, too. I have weird little habits where if they aren't done properly, I don't feel comfortable. I guess you could say it's like I am putting a little order and structure to my everyday life in the most ridiculous ways. The volume for any electronic device must be on an even number or a number divided by five. Silly, right?

One of the biggest quirks is dreaming. Not dreaming itself, but the way in which I dream. I can't just have a dream. It HAS to make sense. If there is absolutely no logic in my dream, I will wake up pissed off, revise it and go back to sleep with the revision in my head, awaiting me to dream a little more. If I do manage to dream a dream that doesn't make sense without waking up, I consider it a fluff dream, like eating cotton candy for dinner.

Val Kilmer and Ryan Phillippe popped in my head last week. I was walking around the mall holding Ryan's hand, while casually looking over and flirting with Val, who was sitting in the food court. Why in the hell would they be in a mall in my hometown, first of all... and second, why am I holding Ryan Phillippe's hand, as if we are a couple? And why am I nineteen in this dream!? Ok, REVISE! ... Hm... well, it IS a dream, so we'll keep the nineteen part. That makes sense because I wasn't married to Chris then, so I'm not cheating in my dream. Val and Ryan perhaps are shooting a movie in my hometown, so that makes a little more sense, but they'd never be in a mall so.... ok, location change. We're now in a ritzy hotel lobby. There we go, this dream is working out a bit more now. *Back to sleep*

Tell me I'm not the only one who does this.

I Hope They Read This

2007-06-25T15:00:00.000-07:00

It's always so disappointing when you find out someone's true nature. I mean, for once, I'd like to find out someone was better than I thought they were. I guess those are very rare instances. You know what I really cannot stand? People that will not only be nice to you, be your friend, but ones that sing your praise, only to find out that they've been speaking ill of you behind your back. I hate followers. I hate pansies that will just go with the flow so that they will never have to stand for anything. I hate self-righteous people. I hate people that attack and try to tear you down, when all you wanted was to do something good. What really burns me is that I've called some of these people "friends". Guess I was wrong. It must be painful sleeping in the bed they've made.

We Sing A Lot

2007-06-24T14:43:00.000-07:00

I'm just coming off a mini-vacation, only to find myself tagged. Heh, shrugs, all right! Songs eh? Before I begin, I should note that Chris is the tagger and also I am supposed to link Holly and Loz, although I don't know why. I should probably go back and read all the way through those blogs. Hi, I'm lazy. Hell you know what? Jodi tagged Chris. There, that enough links? No? All right, fine. I'll tag Charles, Char, Heather, Omar (where is he anyway?!) and whoever else loves music.

Now, I shall begin. *commence menacing music*

Eh, just kidding.

Five songs that impacted my life...

I Love The Way You Love Me ~ John Michael Montgomery

My Chris sings it to me anytime we go out. It's really weird how the lyrics of this song fit us to a tee. Perhaps the fact that he serenaded me with this song wooed me a bit. Hmm, I think I've caught on to his little game...

In The Arms Of The Angels ~ Sarah Mclachlan

I'm not listing my favorite songs, but rather the ones that impacted my life. This is probably one of the biggest. I can't listen to it. I can't sing it. It was played at Logan's funeral. Enough said.

Nobody Lives Without Love ~ Eddie Reader

Okay, I admit, perhaps I did a bit of serenading of my own. I used to sing this to my Chris. I very rarely sing it, because I want it to remain special.

True ~ Ryan Cabrera

Man, I never realized how much we sing in my household until I started this list. This song is one that Kade sings only to me. He won't sing it if anyone else is around.

A Thousand Years ~ Sting

My all-time favorite song. You can find it in the music box on the sidebar. It should be the first thing you hear when this page loads. I listen to it at least once a day. I think it helps remind me to value the ones I love. You know? I could live a thousand years, but I'm still gonna love them no matter what. That sort of thing.

Anyway, those are the songs. I've tagged those that should be tagged... I've completed this task. Now, I'm going to go enjoy the last few hours of my mini-vacation before they drag my ass back to work kicking and screaming. I wouldn't go any other way.

This Shit Only Happens To Me, I Swear

2007-06-11T18:52:00.000-07:00

My Chris comes home, bares his chest and declares that he is going to mow the lawn. Ya know, to get a suntan and all that. There are easier ways to get a suntan, but he's a definite multitasker. And I am lazy. He begins mowing the lawn, while I decide to be a smartass. My plan is to go sit in the hammock while he mows the lawn. It is the easiest way to irritate him for sure.

The thing that I am not thinking about is the fact that we never did bring that hammock in for the winter. All winter long, it sat in the cold and rain, the rope becoming tired and worn. I sit down lazily smiling to myself. Truth be told, I actually do get in a few good swings before I hear, RRRRRIIIIIIIIIP!

"Oh shit."

I look up to see a hole just above where my head is. My first thought is: Damn, he's gonna be pissed. My second thought is: Oh holy hell, it's still ripping. I squirm, trying to wrangle myself out of the ropes, but they only seem to keep me in. At this point, my feet and head are high in the air, while my ass drags, barely brushing the ground with each gentle sway. This is about the time where I start giggling, because I can only imagine what the neighbors think.

I realize that I can't make it up on my own, so I signal to Chris. The problem is that he is on the other side of the lawn with the lawnmower muting any sound I make. So my ass sits there for about five minutes while he works his way over to me. The entire time, my ass sinks further and further to the ground. By the time he pushes the mower past me, he only sees my fingers and toes wriggling. He thinks to himself: Now, that doesn't look right. He stops the mower and casually strolls over to have a look. His hands rest on his hips as he looks down on me.

"What are you doing?"

What am I doing? Oh well, that can be answered simply. I merely wanted to check the courseness of the pavement on my ass. Surely this is the best way to achieve that. What am I doing?! Hello!

"Help me, Chris, I've fallen and I can't get up," I gasp in between laughter.

"Only you can get stuck in a hammock," he replies.

Respect Mah Authoritah, Even When I'm On The Toilet

2007-06-05T18:00:00.000-07:00

And that concludes the longest title ever.

Heheh, kidding. I've totally made longer ones.

Wanna see how many one-liners I can get in this entry?

*****************

I was minding my own business in the kitchen, when I realized that the dishwasher needed to be cleared out. Tch, fine. So I began the process of organizing the dishes to be put away, stacking plates, that sort of thing. Kade's job is to put away all the pots, pans and utensils. I put away all that is breakable. It's a good situation for the both of us; it works well.

So I tell Kade, "Put these away, put that away, blah blah..."

Suddenly I feel the need to GO. Now after nine months of Kade sleeping on my bladder while I was pregnant with him, when I feel the need to go, it is directly proportional to the exact moment that I NEED TO GO. Apparently my brain receives the "pee" signal a little late, giving me mere moments to get to the john. Usually this is fine and dandy, unless you are riding with me down highway 55 and I've just told you I need to go AFTER we've already passed any near gas stations. Then... not so good. But I digress, because I can still make it. I can hold forever. I refuse to pee myself.

Anyway, I run to bathroom in the middle of my dishwasher instructions. This does not stop me from giving said instructions all the while I am in the midst of sitting on the john. Our downstairs bathroom is right off the kitchen, so he can hear me fine.

Chris walks in, hears me yelling out instructions to a child who is putting the dishes away by himself, mind you, and says to the child, "Are you going to let her talk to you that way?!"

And the child, all-knowing and brilliant that he is, gives his father a crazy look and says incredulously, "Yes, I am."

I laughed so hard that I totally peed. But it was okay, cuz I was on the john.

A Few New Quirks

2007-06-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

If I had to deal with myself on a daily basis, I probably would've strangled me by now. I know, I'm working on it. But choking yourself just isn't as effective as having someone else do it for you.

See? I knew you'd smile.

In all seriousness, now that I have to deal with people, I'm finding strange character flaws within myself. Like the one particular flaw in my head that makes up terrible nicknames for people, then forgets not to call them that in person. Yeah, that's a great one. Sorry, Shifty, but you are shifty and a tad shady, as well.

Apparently, I also have a very animated face. You never realize these things when you're alone. I mean, unless you sit in front of a mirror everyday... which I don't... anymore. So these things are a surprise to me. To tell you the truth, I really don't know how to fix these sorts of things without being completely self-conscious and vulnerable. We all know I can't do that. So I guess I'm stuck with these flaws.

I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck with a goiter on my ass. (No offense to those stuck with a goiter on your ass. I'm just saying, pop the damn thing already.) Yeah, we'll end it there.

A Thought

2007-05-28T21:17:00.000-07:00

I think, in all honesty, the moon seems much farther away than it did when I was a child. Perhaps I've just stopped keeping my head in the clouds.

Ten Things

2007-05-18T14:49:00.000-07:00

I got tagged by Jeff, who wrote some great answers to this meme. So I thought I would think long and hard on it. To tell you the truth, it'd be so easy to just rattle off ten things that make me happy daily, but most of those are material. I will say that the iPod is a great friggin' invention, though. Maybe it's because I've been awake for 24 hours, or maybe I'm just in a strange mood, but I'm choosing to be a little more selective about my ten things... er... twelve things. I'm saying twelve, because I favor that number over ten. I've ranked the number system and frankly, twelve is ranked my number one. So here we go, twelve things that make life grand for me:

First and foremost is my son. I know I'm turning into one of those mothers that just goes on and on about their son, but bear with me. I only have one. I'm only ever going to have one, so I tend to cherish the one I have. He's such a doll, I love him so.
My Chris is number two. Okay, I know my answers are becoming predictable here, but he does make my life grand. I am told daily by other people that I am so lucky to have a guy like him. I'm really believing it, too. I AM lucky to have him. That being said, he's still going to sit there and look pretty, while I do all the talking.
My family. I love my family. Especially since I am missing them so much. They are coming next month, which means I'll probably have more Keiara pictures. And my mother, man I don't know what I'd do without her. I don't say that enough, but I should.
Sasha and Angel. Oh Sasha, I wish you could understand all the words I say to you. Then you'd truly know I do love you. And you'd also know how much I wish you'd take a bath. I mean seriously, the garden hose isn't cutting it. And Angel, my dear sweet Angel, I wish you didn't fall in love with everyone that looked your way. I wish you were more devoted to only me. I'm totally jealous.
Four on Sunday. This is codetalk, but basically it's those days where you do nothing more than intimately enjoy each other's company. Lazy Sunday naps are the best.
Success. I like to succeed. I like to know I do a good job and that I've done my best. Sometimes I forget to pat myself on the back. So, good job, me.
Okay this one should have been ranked higher, but I'll blame lack of sleep. Friends. I've always been such a loner, so good friends are very hard for me to come by. They know who they are. They should know I love them, even when I go through long periods of time where I don't talk to anyone.
Health. I hate being sick. I hate being injured. I like it better when I am waited on hand and foot for no reason whatsoever.
Hmmm when you take material things out of the mix, this list gets much harder. Oh I know! *** WARNING: MOVING INTO TRITE TERRITORY *** I like really colorful sunsets. Well not just sunsets, anything in nature really. The other night, I picked Kade up from Cub Scouts. I looked out over the horizon and wow, the sunset was amazing. Bright pinks and oranges lit up the sky. It reminds me of all those times we went fishing out at Sunset Marina with my Grandma. I also stop for stars. I don't know how many times my Chris has caught me still out in the driveway, long after he and Kade have gone in from the car, only to find me trying to figure out constellations. "I think that's Orion, Chris." "I think you need to help bring in the groceries, Ari."
Helping those that need it. No explanation, really. I just like doing it.
Writing. I love it that I can somehow manage to translate all the craziness and chaos in my head into words that have real meaning. For some reason, I write the best when angry. It's a good outlet for me. The words just seem to flow on the paper.
Cuddling. I am a firm believer in the power of touch. It is the single best way to communicate everything you are feeling without any words needing to be said.

And with that, my list is complete. Oh there are more I could add, I'm sure. But these are my top twelve. And really, twelve is a good number, I think.

Happy Mother's Day

2007-05-13T09:31:00.000-07:00

I am smelling Beautiful right now. I have hand-made cards and a painted mat to my name. My son is wonderful, if a little precocious at times, just the way he should be. Apparently, he believes I am great at geography, because I know all the oceans. I won't shatter his perceptions. Instead, I shall revel in all that's good and know that damn it, I have done well.

I am not the orthodox stereotype of a mother. My arguements with my son does not consist of cleaning his room, but instead we argue whose turn it is for the Playstation. I pay him an allowance; he takes me to Dairy Queen. It's a good arrangement. We both promise not to tell my Chris about how much money we spend, but actually, we never fulfill it, because most of the time we are far too excited to hide it from my Chris. I will let my son stay up to watch a scary movie, but only because I don't want to watch it alone. And my son will wake me up early again and again, until I am truly awake, so I won't be late for work.

My son is a gem and I am honored to be his mother. He's done such a great job of raising me.

Happy Mother's Day

I Do What I Want!

2007-04-30T17:24:00.000-07:00

Charles thinks that I won't do this, so following my nature, I am proving him wrong. *raspberry*

A- Available or Single? Available or single? Uh... isn't that redundant? I'm neither.
B- Best Friend. Chris and Char and my mom. And Ha. And Sam. But I haven't talked to the last two in awhile.
C- Chocolate cake or chocolate pie? Chocolate pie. Mmmm... pie.
D- Dress up or casual? (your typical attire) Casually dressed up.
E- Essential Item. Me.
F- Favorite Color. Black. Oh yeah, it's a color. I'm bringing it back.
G- Gummi Bears or Worms. I was introduced to the bears first, but I have to say that the worms are much more fun. You can put them in your mouth, then slide them back out and they're all shiny with ... saliva. Still, it's cool looking.
H- Hobbies. Does ass-kicking count?
I- Indulgence. Slim Jims. And once a year, cheesecake. But only once a year.
J- January or February. April
K- Kids. Yes, please.
L- Life is incomplete without…the ones you love. And me.
M- Money or Love (unlimited)choose only one. Love. I love love. It's so fun and fulfilling. And when you think about it, it's so much easier and less time-consuming than full on hate.
N- Night Owl or Morning Person. Hoot.
O- Oranges or Apples? Watermelon.
P- Phobias/Fears. Losing those I love, mice, large crowds, mice, big ugly rats, dead things and lastly, mice.
Q- Quote personally from you. The defining things that makes you "you" are never done in a large crowd. Those aspects that define you are the things done when you think no one else is watching.
R- Rock Star or Actor (which would you be?) Hmmm... I can't choose. I think I shall be a Rocktor. You know, after that whole undercover assassin thing gets old.
S- Share something you've learned recently. It's not a recent lesson, but one that tends to repeat itself in my life. I've learned that there are people out there that think nothing of tearing you to shreds. I've learned that there are people out there that are so selfish that they are unwilling to see beyond themselves. I've learned to protect myself from these people... but once in awhile, I fall back on my optimistic line of thinking that people are inherently good. It always ends up biting me in the ass. Because of these people, I have learned not to trust.
T- Tag Three People. When I was in a grade school, our version of tag consisted of running up behind the person, giving them a bear hug, kissing them on the cheek, then running away. I think nowadays, that would be considered an attack. Even though I said all that, it changes nothing. I am totally willing to grade-school attack Heather, Jeff and Char. Totally Char.
U- Unknown or little known fact about you. You know this is the hardest question, because I'm not sure I have an answer. I pretty lay it all out there for everyone to see. And I do not give a shit. But let me think here. Okay, I got it. Parfois, je pleure. Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Parfois, je ne peux pas m'arreter. Mais seulement quand je suis seule.
V– Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals. Bring on the beef!!!! Slabs of it, 'cuz if I were a cow, I'd want you to eat me. Seriously, put me out of my misery.
W- Worst habit/habits. I'm a total slob. Then I blame it on others, because I have to clean it anyway. I might as well blame it on them.
X– XXXXs or OOOOs. I'm a big fan of the "x", but you can never count out those "o"s. They have a habit of coming out my mouth at odd intervals, usually followed by "God, yes."
Y- Your "first love" ...what was their name? Adrian. What a dipshit he was. I hope he reads that.
Z- Zodiac sign. Aries! Big surprise, right?

In Case You Didn't Know...

2007-04-26T15:36:00.000-07:00

I hate being shushed!!!!

No one tells me to be quiet! And yet, I can't figure out how to comment. Ever since they switched that beta thing over, I can't seem to comment on anyone's blog. I'm still here!!!! I still love you all!! I miss you and I hate that I can't seem to get through!

I do admit, I have been busy though, so that's mainly why I haven't solved the riddle on how to comment. I still read though. I'm sorry, Jodi, that you lost all your writing. I went through a similar thing, although, fortunately I was able to recover mine. But the feeling of losing all that work, all that emotion and everything that went into it... I know, hon. I hope you will be able to recover it, I do. I'm so sorry, sweetie.

Chris, I hadn't seen that commercial about the axe-murder guy before. When I watched it, guess what I thought? THAT'S SO WRONG!

Charles, oh yeah, I'll be haunting you forever. Eventually, there will be Ari signs all over the world. Mwahahaha!

I wanted to comment to Mary and didn't get a chance, but oh hon that entry on Sarah was just heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time. Tears, just tears streaming down my cheeks. What a beautiful girl.

I actually went to Astaryth's blog the other day, because a few years ago, she posted a link to the Somorost game. (I love that game.) While I was there, I got to look around. See, I remember what you guys write. You guys have impacted me, too. And I miss you... in case you didn't know.

Five Little Angels

2007-04-21T19:37:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, a man set fire to his cousin's home after a long-standing family feud. Unbeknownst to him, his cousin's five children were inside sleeping. All five children died. This happened five blocks from my home. One of the children went to the same school as Kade. In fact, his classroom was right across the hall.

The Quincy community has set up a memorial outside the home. People passing by have been leaving flowers and cards. The school district closed school for this coming Tuesday, so that the children could go to the funeral.

*********

We were standing in the grocery line, waiting to check out. As usual, Kade was over by the candy, scoping out goodies that I'd probably say "No" to anyway.

"There's Camron," he said with a note of shock in his voice.

"What?"

"In the newspaper, there's Camron. I recognized him immediately."

I picked up a newspaper from the bin. There were the five children. Even though I'd already paid for my things, I laid the newspaper on the counter anyway, then dug out a dollar from my pocket. We brought it home and read it together.

"Gosh, I just saw him, Mom. On Friday, I just saw him. Now he's not going to be there. I mean, we weren't friends or anything. I didn't really know him, but I knew who he was. He was really funny."

It's just heartbreaking. There's really not much I can tell him. He watches the news. He understands what happened. And he knows what death is. The truth is that I don't even know what to tell myself. How can this happen? Five wonderful, beautiful children... my heart goes out to their family.

http://video.nbc5.com/player/?id=91954

Bringing Back Mythology

2007-04-19T13:18:00.000-07:00

My son, my love, the apple of my eye, the beat of my heart, my one pure joy... he tells me that he believes he is supposed to worship Hermes. How did that come about? The solar system, that's how.

I tried to teach this kid about the solar system, the planetary models and such and all he connects with is the fact that they are named after roman/greek gods. I tried to explain why Pluto is no longer considered a planet, but his only reply was, "Well, that makes sense. Pluto shouldn't be a planet, because all the other gods were on Mt. Olympus, while Hades (Pluto) was in the Underworld."

"Stay with me, Kade. The solar system has little to do with mythology with the exception of the names, okay? Now, Mercury is the closest to the sun. It revolves around the sun the fastest-"

"Yeah, 'cuz Hermes was the messenger of the gods, because he was the fastest."

"Right. Let's stay on track here."

"You know, I'm a Virgo."

"That's great, Kade."

"Virgos are all about doing things by the book. They plan things just so. You know that is so me. Hermes was like that, too. I'm just like that, Mom."

"I'm beginning to see that. The second planet--"

"I think I'm like Hermes. I think I'm supposed to worship him. I think he's my god."

"Okay, you do realize that it's greek MYTHology, right?"

"Yeah, but if we all had gods, he'd be mine."

"No one believes in any of this. They're great stories, honey, but they're myths."

"Well, I believe it. And you should, too. If we didn't have mythology, we'd not have names for all those planets there."

You know, a child's sense of wonder and truth is so amazing sometimes. We ended up spending the rest of our time finding similarities between the planets and the gods. He enjoyed it. For the life of me, I just didn't have the heart to shatter his perception of "mythology". I think instead, I shall sit back and let him discover his own truth.

The Art Of Living

2007-04-14T11:38:00.000-07:00

Well, as of Thursday, I am no longer in my twenties. I've now met a new milestone. So what's different?

Not much. I'm still pretty vocal about what I believe in or my opinions. I'm still ready to perfrom verbal castrations at the drop of a hat. In fact, last week just re-affirmed the thought that I should carry a spare carving knife and thesaurus with me. Ya know, just in case I run into any more of those pansy yokels that try to bring me or my loved ones down. What can I say? You mess with me or my own, prepare for a fight. And I hold grudges forever, I really do. That's not really a maturity thing. I believe I will always be that way. It's part of my DNA. Yes, I have the "beat up the pansy" gene.

Now before I offend a bunch of people, I should say that I am not against men and that's not what this is about. I am against those pansies, men AND women, who do not possess an ounce of integrity, honor or honesty within them. Those are the people I'd verbally castrate. THEY ARE THE PANSIES. I'm so sick and tired of pansies running things. It doesn't matter where you are or what you do, politicking and "cliques" will always happen. It's sad that this is a part of the human condition.

All that being said, I had a great birthday!!!!! My wonderful non-pansy husband sent me flowers and cake at work. The consensus from my female coworkers was that he remains the best husband ever. I agreed, although I think they might have been a little biased, being that they said it with cake in their mouths. Oh well, I'll take it as true!

He then took me to dinner, where I ordered a white peach sangria. Ordinarily, I do not drink, but it was my birthday and peach sounded soooo good. I had to keep Kade away, because he kept eyeing the cherry and limes on the side of my glass. (As an aside, my Kade has gone on yet another health kick. He is now demanding fruit on my grocery list, as well as doing as many sit-ups as he can. I'm not complaining by any means; I just sometimes wonder if he truly came from my womb.)

I think that with the thirties, I am being brought into the "kick-ass-and-take-names-later" phase of my life. I'm not as uncertain or unsure of myself. The thing is that I caught myself thinking, "I just don't have time for bullshit like this," the other day. I thought about it. It's true. I don't have time to waste hemming and hawwing on bullshit. I'd rather tell it like it is and move onto more important things. Because I don't have forever. Yes, I know I'm not old by any means, but I could die tomorrow. And if I did die, I'd like my enemies to know that I think they're scum. But more importantly, I'd like to die with the thought that my loved ones KNOW I loved them as much as truly possible, that I did right by them as much as I could and that I was there for them.

At the end of the day, I either hated you with the fire of a thousand suns, or I loved you with more passion than any human could muster. It's those ups and downs that make life what it is. I never did want to be caught coasting in the middle. I want to know I truly lived.

A Letter To A Man

2007-04-08T09:01:00.000-07:00

There is so much I want to say. There is so much I have to tell, but I won't. In the end, it might hurt the very ones that need the help the most. It just hurts to see a man devote himself to a cause, sacrifice to this cause, do everything humanly possible for a cause, only to have the leaders of said cause turn their backs on him and dismiss him, as if he were not worthy of their presence. The worst thing is that he is not the only one who sacrifices. Those are made daily by people who ask for the truth, but receive nothing in return.

I know the truth. I just have to patient and wait, for I truly believe that everyone else involved will eventually know the truth as well. There are posturing, self-righteous, egocentric, self-serving men that will always seek to divide. And then there are men like my best friend, who will do the right thing, even if it means that it will be his downfall. So be it.

To my best friend, my husband, the one who makes me laugh, I say this to you: No matter what they say or do, your actions speak louder than their words. They aren't worthy to stand in your shadow. You will always be my hero. I would fight for you 'til the end.

Your loving wife,
Ari

Perserverance

2007-04-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

"Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." - Martin Luther King Jr.

This quotation is giving me strength and hope today.

The Face Buffer Massacre

2007-03-31T17:02:00.000-07:00

It sometimes terrifies me to look at my son and realize just how much he's grown and matured. He has stopped his con jobs... well sort of. With his allowance each week, he's now less apt to persuade people out of their money. Now, he's moved on to fruit. His Uncle Dewayne pays him one orange to clean the yard. I guess I can live with that. Kade seems happy about it. "Negotiations went as planned." That was his exact comment.

You can imagine how astonished I was to find a pimple on his cheek. Dude, he's eight! When did that start happening?! You think that's bad? His best friend, who is also eight years old, has armpit hair. I'm beginning to believe they have some sort of growth hormone in the water. I've switched him to Propel water, just in case. No tap for you, hon. He won't let me pop it, either. It's just sitting there on his cheek driving me insane.

So there's all that, then the other night, he decides he is ready to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning. I told him that the movie was far too mature for the likes of him. I asked him repeatedly to leave the room. But he insisted he would be all right to watch it. Kids never listen. I told him not to watch it. I even suggested a Disney movie for him to watch upstairs, but he and that big ass pimple looked at me with disdain.

The movie, much like any garden variety horror, has a sexual scene. This is the part where I froze in horror. My Chris felt me freeze next to him and said, "Oh sure, you're going to let him watch a bunch of people die, but let's go crazy about the sex scenes." Well, to tell you the truth, I am not a big fan of censorship. In fact, I don't believe in it AT ALL. Why shield children from the harsh realities of life? What good comes from that? They SHOULD know there are bad people out there. They SHOULD see the atrocities in the news. And yes, the occasional boobie shot probably won't hurt him too badly. I JUST DON'T WANT HIM TO SEE NUDITY IN MY PRESENCE. Because it's weird. Creepy weird. Like last week when I walked in on him eyeing a Girls Gone Wild commercial a little too attentively.

And my Kade, being the wonderful son that he is, knew of my discomfort and thankfully shielded his eyes. Phew. Now, let's move on to the chainsaw. There were a few times when I saw him hide his head under the covers, but he pretty much got through the movie alright. It was during the credits that my Chris decided to pipe up and say, "And you know that based on real events."

"What?!" Kade shreiked.

"No, no no, it's not. Well, yes, it is," I stammered, trying to calm him down, "But really, it's based on this guy, Ed Gein. But they caught him a long, long time ago. He's dead now. It's okay."

Then I sat him down, we watched the making of it, basically debunking the whole movie. He was fine with this. It worked well. He went to sleep that night without any problems. But the next night after putting him to bed, I decided to try out this new face buffer I just bought. So I dipped the brush into the face cream, turned it on, this loud buzzing noise came out of it. The next thing I knew, I heard a yelp and saw a whiz fly past me to run down the stairs to the safety of his father... I told him not to watch that movie. Then again, it's a relief to know that maybe, he's not so grown up after all.

My New Friend, Cecil

2007-03-25T19:53:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't updated in forever, but I didn't feel like coming on here to whine. Even though I have tons of things to whine about... Seriously though, I deal with enough that I don't want to rehash any of it. I'd like to just forget about all that happens at work. Home life is awesome as ever, though!

Anyway, I went to check my email tonight. Now I don't know about you, but when I look through my email, I tend to go for the ones where people have emailed me directly. I read those first. So imagine my surprise when I get an email from someone named Cecil. Hmmmm, do I know anyone named Cecil? Maybe it is a respone to my blog. Maybe it is someone that's been reading for awhile. Maybe it is someone I met a while back, who's just now been able to write. So I clicked the link. This is what Cecil's message entailed:

Do You Want To Know A Secret?
Bring a smile to your partner's face every time you're with them! Let me introduce to you something that is fun, exciting and most of all enjoyable, its the Vibrator Ring!

The Vibrator Ring is the latest craze to sweep the world and people just can't get enough! Its both safe and easy-to-use, you'll want 10. It's comfortable design means that it's not too invasive orimpulses are transmittable. The responsive behavior of awkward to use and it will expand to fit ANY size!So what is this Vibrator Ring? The Vibrator Ring is a softRing that fits snug at the base, allowing the raised,machine is as automatic Tickler to stimulate her externally, hitting the RIGHT spotEVERYTIME! Not only will the firm hold make him stay harder forthe behavior of ones' own hand, eye leg. In Flight to Arras, Antoine longer, it will give her those multiple pleasures she's only read about.

Dont wait for it! Get your Vibrator Ring today

Wingardium Levioso

2007-02-03T09:46:00.000-08:00

Since he's only seventeen, wouldn't this be child pornography?

Onto other things that don't make me feel like a pedophile... Windows Vista just came out and with it, the entire world has just gone insane. Don't even bother trying to buy it without also buying more ram. Just don't. In fact, make my world a better place by just skipping it altogether. I mean really, who the fuck cares? Why would you care so much about an operating system to go totally beserk and rush to a store for it? Ugh, I hate people. It's not even a game, so you know I have no use for it.

I am now paying my son an allowance. Unlike other parents who pay their kids to do stuff, I am paying him to be a little boy. Yes, I am paying him to NOT work. This is how this all came down:

Awhile back, we were with a group of bikers out doing our thing. Someone gave my son a huge bag of granola bars. Instead of eating them all up like any normal child, he somehow got the huge group of bikers to stand in line to pay a dollar for a granola bar. They were hungry and he was feeding them, he said. I shut his operation down. This came after the huge incident at a grocery store where he and the manager got into a dispute over child labor laws. Basically, my son wanted to work there and the manager refused. It was a huge blow-up, you know, the kind where I clamp my hand over my son's mouth and ever so gently guide him out the door, while simultaneously hanging my head in shame.

He wants to earn money, so he can buy himself a game. A noble thing, for sure, he just doesn't really understand the ethics behind "earning" money. I have an eight year old con artist. He will ask the elderly if they want ice removed from their vehicles, then with an impish grin, proceed to charge them fifty cents. No. No. No. I shut him down, again. If you're going to do a good deed, then just do it. Don't ask to be paid.

So I set this up: He will help around the house, or help his uncle when asked, but he will NOT try anymore marketing schemes or con jobs on people. For this, he gets two dollars a week. And I get to sleep soundly at night.

Vox

2007-01-26T19:57:00.000-08:00

The presence of other people destroy the creative avenues of my mind. I could use these people as canon fodder-- er, material for writing, however, I don't really care about them that much. They are merely annoyances I must wade through during my day to get to the inevitable goal of going home. Basically, I'm a solo act, baby, everyone else is trampling on my flow.

It's really always been that way for me. I'm more creative on my own. When in a group setting, one tends to let go of what they think in order to compromise for the direction of what the group is thinking. I don't like that. So, this is humbling for me in a way. It is humbling for me to have to DEAL with people. Isn't that strange? It's not normal, that's for sure. It's almost as if being around people on a constant basis sucks my will to live.

And it's hard, it really is. It's hard to insert all your little quirks in when there are so many others shoving to get theirs in, as well. It all boils down to one thing:

They don't care what I think. I really don't care what they think, either. We're just shoved in a situation together where we must DEAL with each other. I don't know how. I don't think I came with those functions. My mute button is broken. What is a polite way of telling someone they suck? I don't know. Apparently telling someone that talking to them is like talking to a wall (only you can get more useful information out of the wall) is not polite. Apparently telling someone that you'd rather get your tooth pulled than be around them is not very nice. I must be polite, you know. I don't dare even dream of going against the group mentality, especially when they are senior to me. Actually, I dream of this daily, but can't because I don't want to lose my job. The odd thing is that I do like my job; I just hate people.

Anyway, back to the humility part. It is humbling for me to hold my tongue. But at the end of the day, perhaps it is more wise this way. Sometimes it is better to leave things left unsaid. I'm human and I make mistakes, too. Maybe if I stop being so critical of others, I could learn to DEAL with them better. Because you can only hold your fingers up in the air, so that their head fits in the space between your fingers, while you smash your fingers together in a mock attempt to smush their head so many times before you start seeking other avenues. I must've mock-smushed about a thousand heads, yesterday. I just need to learn to deal with people. All I can say is that it's a good thing I don't have divine powers. Otherwise, there'd be a lot of headless people walking around my town. But hey, at least it'd be a lot less noisy.

I'm Not Dead, Just Barely Alive

2007-01-13T19:45:00.000-08:00

If what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, by the end of my time at this job, I am going to be one steel-covered bitch.

Hello. Remember me? I'm the one that abandoned you all in the pursuit of money in the form of a paycheck. I do deeply regret that decision. Really, I do. If you only knew. Now I could go on and on about the many dickholes I manage to come across during my day. I could go on and on about how giant shit-filled turds try to be condescending to moi in their attempt to make me believe I am somehow not entirely perfect. I could... but really why bother? We all know it's not true, anyway. I am the epitome of perfection. Instead, let's try to think of the positive.

First off, I'd like to give a shout-out:

Dear Santa,

Thanks big guy. I knew you'd come through for me. Oh and the IPod, yeah my Mom's trying to take credit for that one, but we both know it came from you, don't worry. Next year, let's talk Aruba.

XOXOXO,
Ari

There. Now that that's done, let's move on, shall we?

I discovered that I talk to myself. We're not talking about a little here or there, oh no. We're talking full-blown conversation that I have with myself in my pursuit of doing my job in hell. Ya know, hell. The place I work at. Anyhow, there are two conclusions to draw from this. Either I appear to be slowly going insane, which could also mean that I am somehow gifted above normal levels (look at gifted people sometime, if you look closely, they appear insane) OR I have the creativity that is unsurpassed by any other mortal. Either way, it doesn't draw away from my perfection, so I'm going to accept it. Fine, I talk to myself. But listen to the conversation sometime. Only I would debate myself on whether or not I am a complete bad-ass or only a bad-ass on the outside with a gooey center. They're good conversations, I tell you. Good ones. They'll draw you in and leave you perplexed, slightly uneasy and a little afraid. Which is okay with me, because I only have these conversations in hell. So if you hear one, chances are, I want you to feel that way, so you will back the fuck off and leave me alone. So that I can do my job. IN HELL.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT--- Don't you hate when you forget about that capslock? Sheesh.

But enough about hell, let's talk more about me. Right now, I'm working on a daydream that involves leather, a parachute and rose petals. Yeah, I'm gonna have GOOD dreams tonight. Well, look at that. I remembered the capslock. We'll talk later. Until then, have a good one or five for me. And tell them Ari sent you.

Ta ta,
Ari

Ho Freakin' Ho

2006-12-24T10:02:00.000-08:00

I did not send out Christmas cards this year. I am a month behind on sending out the birthday cards for the month of December for my church. I did not get to shop for my son. My Chris bought his presents. I, on the other hand, was working my tail off, including two 12 hour days back to back.

Hello, My name is Ari and I'm about to lose my sanity. No, I do not know where anything is. No, I do not know the prices. I'm fairly sure I missed at least one of my breaks each day. I've cried over pull lists and I've sulked over cycle counts. Welcome to the clusterfuck that is backstock. I cannot do anymore. I am now taking these next two days off, where I shall do nothing except tend to my wounded toe, whose nail is threatening to come right off. Somehow, I shall just have to manage with the blisters. I never did like these feet anyway.

I am positive that it was a nervous breakdown earlier this week. But thanks to two special people, I managed to drudge through it. And I am very thankful. If it weren't for those two, I know that had one of the managers said ANYTHING to me, I'd have lost my job. We all know my temper. And yet, as I left to go home, I walked passed one of the managers, whose eyes were red and I knew, she was about to breakdown, too. I patted her arm, gave her nod to let her know I knew what she was going through.

The thing is that I really do enjoy this job. Even if it is a complete and utter bastard at times. Anyway, bear with me if your present is late. Bear with me if I seem vacant. Even though I am here about to celebrate the holidays, in my mind, I am on a tropical beach somewhere enjoying the breeze.

Dear Santa,

2006-12-15T17:47:00.000-08:00

I have been a very good girl this year. I have only threatened decapitation once, threatened to kick a spleen out three times and threatened mutilation to an eyeball twice. I did carry out one castration, but you and I can both agree that that guy totally deserved it. He should not be contributing to the gene pool, anyway. So one could say that I have been pretty darn good.

I did cuss a lot. However, if no one ever cussed, those cuss words would start to feel lonely and neglected. So, in a way, I am really doing my best to spread the love, so that those cuss words feel as important as normal words. And we all know that it's good to never leave anyone out.

My son has not been tardy once, nor have I been late picking him up. Unless, you count that one time when I locked myself out of my house and car, but that totally wasn't my fault. It's God's fault for making my legs short, therefore not letting me get to school on time by walking. You should take that one up with Him.

I did forget to do laundry a couple of times, but come on now, those zombies aren't going to kill themselves. If you want something done, you might as well do it yourself. Which is why, there are currently no zombies walking the streets of my town. One could say, I am quite the hero. Who would remember the laundry, when we are celebrating the fact that my town is not overrun with zombies?!

I would also like to point out the fact that when that one guy cut me off, I did not smash him with the truck, then proceed to beat him within an inch of his life. No, I didn't. Instead, I smiled and waved at the cop who passed me, in order to pull him over. I am such a good person. And this is why you should make sure to get me that gaming chair. Don't bother trying to get it down the chimney, because I don't want soot all over the velvet exterior. Just avoid the black dog and leave it by the back door. Or better yet, leave it in front of the tv, because that's where it's going, anyway. And just so we're clear, it's the black and red velvet gaming chair that is on sale right NOW at a certain store I tend to frequent. If you hurry, you'll be able to buy me the last one, which I've hidden in the back room next to the loading dock.

With all my love,
Ari

P.S. Don't forget my stocking, either.

Adventures of Ari

2006-12-11T15:46:00.000-08:00

Chapter Two: The Master and the Apprentice

This morning found me warping down a path at breakneck speed in order to find facility that would begin my training. I expected a Kung Fu warrior to greet me, then test me at every turn to be sure that I am capable. And I am, you know. I am capable. But alas, I was met with a group of counterparts that eyed me suspiciously, as I was dressed in the same uniform as they. A shy, soft-spoken woman welcomed me in. I learned she was to be the one to train me.

Now, of all the teachers or masters in this universe, I had not expected to find one so... pleasant. She swiftly, yet softly guided me through. I can say with all confidence, that I have the hearing of a ninety year old woman, so there were constant interruptions from me that went something like, "What? Say that again. Huh? What did you say?" Not once did she break. Oh, this one was quite the patient one.

And so it began. I would break her. It was a game really. She would wait with limitless patience as I took the "gun" with the laser and aimed it at various things. She didn't even bat an eyelash when I "zapped" a few things that weren't supposed to be zapped. She never broke form. I messed with the gun, while she explained that I needn't hold it so close to an object in order to hit it. I disagreed. Unfortunately, she was right, so I amused myself by zapping far away objects. After awhile, the "gun" began to show signs of use, it grew tired of me and quit working. I looked at her to get angry, but all she said was, "That's all right. We can do it all manually."

"Manually?! Pffft, that sounds like work!" I baited.

She countered me with a blank smile. Nothing worked and I began to grow frustrated. Finally at lunch, I decided to stick with my tried and true form and threw a joke into the room. I watched as the joke wafted around before settling square on her shoulders. Then it happened, she suddenly began smiling. Before I knew it, she began laughing uproariously.

"See? I bet you thought today would be a drag," I said.

"Actually, it's going by really fast," she said.

"Yeah, before you know it, I'll be out of here and then you'll be stuck with no one to talk to about abs of steel."

This brought on another round of laughter. I consider that one overtime. Oh yeah, my job here is done.

Adventures of Ari

2006-12-10T15:37:00.000-08:00

Chapter One: The Rise of the Reject

It could be said that I have been missing for two weeks. Only Lord knows where I have been, who I have seen. Well, the Lord and those who have been there when I have seen them, if that makes any sense at all. But I haven't forgotten all those that have read my words, been there through my butt woes and my pinkalicious phase. Nay, I haven't forgotten. So, where have I been? Let me tell you, oh yes, let me tell you all...

And so, our wondrous beautiful goddess-like heroine (that would be me) found herself between a rock and a hard place. You see, the kick-ass reject of society in me would like to tell people what I think of them straight up, but the soft inner core of my being says that I should just let them be. In the end, the reject won -- it wasn't a fair fight, really, as the reject tricked the soft inner core into looking the other way before kicking its butt. You know how it goes.

Now, let me just say that for the most part I like people to be who they are. I really do. Unless they are completely idiotic fools who have no grasp of what it is like to walk in another person's shoes. In this case, I find that these idiotic fools need to be taken down a peg or two or ten. And so, when the lady wouldn't shut up or let me get a word in edge-wise, I finally snapped a bit and said, "MA'AM. I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING, WE JUST CAN'T DO THAT." I was a bit loud. I'm pretty sure an irritated expression exploded across my face. After I slammed the phone down, the long line of people that were awaiting the end to that particular phone call cheered and giggled and said, "Man, I feel for you." And I, being the goddess that I am, projected a telepathic thought to all of them: YOU ARE ALL NOW MY MINIONS. But somehow, it came out as, "Hehehe, have a nice day!" I'm starting to think my evil side is none other than that of a giggly japanese cartoon character. (Can I at least get one of those permanent tear drops that display whenever a japanese cartoon is worried or scared? Please?)

This whole taking over the world thing would go so much easier if people would just get the hell out of my way. So, I thought to myself, "How can I make this ascension go much faster?" The answer was simple, really. I got myself promoted. But it's me, we're talking about. So, as luck would have it, I somehow stole a job right out from under the more senior employees at my job, all the while managing to change my schedule to hours that only roosters and bluebirds keep, at that same time managing to NOT get a pay raise. God, I am good. Fear me.

The truth is that I don't care about money. I can afford to not care about money, because I am spoiled and selfish. I get everything I want, anyway. The real reason I do so well is because I love when people adore me. If I think that my actions could make me the apple of someone's eye, I will do it. I love to be be adored. I'm pretty sure this is why old people love me. And that's okay, because I love them, too. We have a common bond, we do. They are old, so they can get away with almost anything. And I am me, so I can, too.

A Voice Unheard

2006-11-28T09:27:00.000-08:00

December 1988

We began preparing for our Christmas music show at school. Our teacher, Mr. Holcolm, was a very fine pianist, having been on television many times for his talent. I loved that teacher. He let us sing songs from musicals, which was right up my alley, because who doesn't love Oliver?! And I loved it. I loved every minute of it. And I would sing my little heart out.

He came around to each of us, putting his head next to ours, so he could hear our individual voices. He had this method of punishment, where if you were disruptive, you would have to stand for the remainder of the class. Being the good sweet angel I was, I never had to stand -- until this day. He finished doing his rounds, then asked another girl named Linda and I to stand. Red-faced, I stood up, wondering what I'd done to be punished. He briskly walked to the piano, where he then ordered the two of us to sing.

Linda began singing, while I stood there in shock. After a minute, he stopped playing and gently urged me to sing without Linda. And so there I was, in front of the class, standing like I was in trouble. After a few moments, I started singing. It would have been less embarrassing if the song of choice wasn't "As Long As He Needs Me." In fifth grade, one doesn't even talk, much less sing of love. But there I was singing. After I was done, he applauded and urged the rest of the girls to sing like Linda and I. But I was far too embarrassed to continue on. To this day, I get extremely uncomfortable singing in front of others.

I can tell you with absolute honesty that I have sang with Peobo Bryson, Roberta Flack, Sheena Easton and some guy named Dino. A few of us were picked out of our school choirs to sing with them at a concert. I have sang at the Liberty Bowl in Memphis for their half-time show. Now, none of those performances were ones were I had to sing solo, so I was okay. I still can't sing alone. Not even in front of Chris.

But on some nights, when I take a late shower, he sneaks in so he can hear a few notes done in the acoustics of our bathroom. And I, knowing that this will be my only stage from here on out, am totally okay with that.

Educated Idiot

2006-11-22T06:37:00.000-08:00

The school receives 47 boxes of donuts. There are fifty donuts to each box. They end up using 46 boxes. How many donuts are left?

***

This was a math question on Kade's homework last night. I, being well versed in mathematics, started to show my son how to solve the problem:

47 x 50 = 2350

46 x 50 = 2300

2350 - 2300 = 50

There are fifty donuts left.

That was about the time my son looked at me and said, "Yeah Mom, you can do all that. Or you could've just noticed that they had one whole box of donuts left. Since we know that there are fifty donuts per box, we already know the answer is fifty."

D'oh!

Pampers

2006-11-14T17:12:00.000-08:00

We sat in our muppet positions, side by side on the loveseat. I sat cross-legged, while he was reclined in a more laid-back state. The truth is that I am far more laid-back than he is, while he has a more go-get-'em attitude. So it's strange that we should sit that way, yet we do. I leaned in poised to make a smart-ass comment on whatever flashed across the tv next. A diaper commercial came on. I watched as a mother lovingly nuzzled her baby...

I remember when I used to do that with Kade. I remember when I'd kiss the bottom of his feet, tickling him in the process. I remember his baby smell. I remember making him laugh, his baby giggle surprising himself as it came out. I miss that.

"I still want a baby," I murmured.

"Add twenty years to your life, Ari. That's what we'd be doing."

He's rather blunt, but he's right. We are in no position to be having a child at this time. I just started working again. Not only that but I could not emotionally take another pregnancy. I hate that I was the one that suggested the vasectomy. No babies for us. But those damn diaper commercials... they get me everytime.

Deja Vu

2006-11-13T09:07:00.000-08:00

I keep seeing rave reviews for Borat, which I have no inclination to see whatsoever. Looks like nothing more than an Andy Kaufman rip-off to me, but whatever. Not only that, but don't we already have enough prank shows? Then there's Superman, which will probably be getting to dvd sometime soon. Honestly... people have tried, but no one plays Superman better than Christopher Reeves, so why bother?

How many Poseidon Adventures can one watch before going insane? Why must it be remade five thousand times?

Double that with the amount of sequels being made, movies made from books or games and a trip to the video store will suddenly turn into a severe case of deja vu. Why can't anyone be original anymore?! Is that so hard? Is it really so hard to come up with an original thought?

Oh and btw, I don't care how big of a fan any one of you are of Johnny Depp, but he SUCKED ASS as Willy Wonka. In fact, that whole remake sucked donkey balls. Gene Wilder, I am so sorry, hon. Please come out of retirement to bitchslap Depp. Please. I also give you persmission to kick Tim Burton in the nuts. And while you're at it, you might as well punch Paul Anderson. He had nothing to do with the Willy Wonka remake, but I still haven't forgiven him for the disasters that are the Resident Evil movies.

The Wild? You know, I already invested all my energy into Finding Nemo. I'm not about to be excited about trying to find a character from a movie that not only rips off Nemo, but rips off Madagascar, as well. LAME.

But you know what would really piss me off? They better NEVER remake A Christmas Story, or Ari's gonna have to choke someone.

Because I'm Not Like You

2006-11-08T06:15:00.000-08:00

"It's good that you are getting out more," she said, while I crinkled my nose.

I finished speaking with her; a little sliver of irritation lodging itself onto the back of my brain. She meant well. They all mean well. I always think that when you run across someone you know while you're at work, that it's like a mini-oasis type of situation. You can relax, let go of the "professional" you and be a bit more yourself for a few minutes. That is, until they say something like that.

Ugh. Is it really good? Why is it so wrong that I like staying home? Why is it so wrong that in the whole time I was a stay-at-home mother, I avoided social situations, I avoided filling my calendar with "events" that were really of no importance? Why is it wrong that I like to be independent? Why is it so wrong that I don't plan my day for others, I plan it for me and my own? Why do I NEED to get out more in order to be considered normal?

Why should I go looking for people outside my home, when I have everything I need right here? Sure, friends are good. But my best friend and I are married. Love and acceptance are great things, I have that here.

I realize that they are only trying to welcome me to their fold, but what they don't realize is that while I am more than happy to be friends, or visit once in a great while, I don't want to be in any fold other than one of my own making.

So, yes, I am getting out more. Getting a job really forces that issue on me. Fine. But I can't possibly see how this is GOOD for me. A booster shot is good for me. Eating veggies are good for me. Being forced to be leave my sanctuary, only to be forced to don a smile and be nice to others? Sure, I can do it. But I hardly see how it is GOOD for me.

You know, I was about to end it right there, but as it turns out, it is more than a sliver of irritation. Look at all the problems with society. Look at our role models of today -- the strumpet heiresses that have done nothing but be born into money, the idiot celebrity whose only job it is, is to pretend to be someone else THEN believes because they are so good at faking that they actually should have more weight when it comes to political opinions and such, those idiotic wimpy singers who whine about how horrible their lives are all the while raking in paycheck after paycheck. These are the so-called people we are supposed to look up to? These are the so-called people that children AND ADULTS of today are emulating? Please explain to me how is it GOOD for me to be in a society like this?

Maybe I just am a classic dissenter. Maybe. Or maybe I just see so much bullshit, so many people whose lives are focused on material crap, things that are of no importance, that I don't WANT to be like them. I don't want to be in their fold.

Fuck you, if you want me to change. I won't do it. I like me. No, you won't see me at a PTA meeting. Not because I don't care about my child's education, but because I go directly to the source if I have a problem and confront the teacher. I make sure the teacher and I are on the same page, so that I may teach my son WITH HER AS SUPPORT, and not push his education all off on her. Fuck you, if you want me to attend church regularly. God is not in a building, people. So you can add transcendentalism to my list. Fuck you, if I don't go to your party. My family is more important that getting wasted at some stupid social function. I have better things to do with my time. Fuck you, if I don't take my kid to every kind of sports function possible. Sports are good, but since when was it good to inundate your child with EVERY kind of sport until you have to make a special calendar for THEM just to keep it all straight? How is that good? Fuck you, if my husband and I would rather spend time with each other than over at your house. He and I have to make up for a few lost Tuesdays, so unless you are going to stand there and watch, get the fuck out.

I don't need you.

Bleh

2006-11-06T18:00:00.000-08:00

I am good. I am damn good. For some strange reason, my charm is paying off. People like me, they really do. If they only knew...

I am doing well, I think. I had one day where I wanted to yell, scream, cry and choke people, but I didn't. (That's what made me so angry. I am quite used to telling people what I think of them. Not being able to is sooooo restricting.)

Perhaps, and this is just a maybe thing, I have allowed myself too much freedom. I am quite used to saying what I think, directing my anger appropriately, confronting. Now I am in a situation where I am basically forced to apologize on something I have absolutely no control over. That's customer service for ya. But I've found I actually LIKE working. Which is weird, because I hate restrictions. I hate rules. I hate being made to follow. Strange, that I should excel at it.

There I go, again. Who wants to hear about work? Boring. Ugh. Let's move on.

***

One of these days, I shall learn to ride a motorcycle. There's been plenty of opportunities, but I've shunned each one. To tell you the truth, I quite like riding on the back of his. I can only ride him for so long, before I want some of that control. I like control. There's nothing like the feel of powering your own destiny. Which is why I need to learn to ride, so that I may control that big machine of power. Plus, I found another pair of black bitch boots that I am totally intent on buying. You just can't wear black bitch boots to the grocery store, ya know?

***

I am not afraid of spiders. I like them. Which is why I was surprised at my reaction upon finding a dead one, today. I freaked out. Refused to touch it or get near it, when only a few days before, I had lovingly escorted an alive one outside. I think it was because it was dead. I had the same reaction with a dead bird on our lawn. For three days, I walked in a huge semi-circle around our porch to avoid it. I guess I have some strong issues with death.

***

When did I become so damn boring? Geesh, it's like the life has been sucked out of me. Not funny, not interesting. I'll chalk this entry up to being half-asleep. That or the fact that complete strangers are sucking my will to live. One or the other.

Anniversary

2006-11-01T07:18:00.000-08:00

Nine years ago on Halloween, I went out on a date with a really nice, good, decent guy. He was nice and sweet, a subsitute teacher. We went to dinner, then to a concert, which I did enjoy. In fact, I had such a nice time, that when I found out my aunt had set me up for a blind date the very next night, I thought to myself, "Yeah, well, I'll do it, but I don't really care how that date goes."

The very next night, I went out on a date with a good, decent guy that also happened to be a badass. This surprised me, so I did the only thing I could possibly do and married him. Nine years later, he and I are still together.

I'm really sorry to Substitute Teacher. You are a wonderful guy. And I'm sure somewhere out there, some woman found herself a wonderful match. He just wasn't my match. I am very happy with the choice I made.

Last night, I rushed home for work to get changed for our Anniversary dinner. It's always a rush on that day, given that it's Halloween. Unfortunately, I had to work during our traditional Halloween church function, so I had told Kade that we'd try to fit trick-or-treating in. Real trick-or-treating -- not the kind at church.

(Dear Charles,

NOW, my feet hurt.)

My feet were killing me. It's the kind of hurt where it feels like spikes are being driven through your heels. I bought those damn gel inserts, but they only help so much. I barely made it through dinner. It was really good, too. Garlic steak with shrimp. I ate the entire plate and I never do that when we eat out. Anyway, by the time we finished our meal, I was slumped over the table, trying my hardest to keep my eyes open.

My Chris consoled Kade, telling him there'd be no way for us to make it through trick-or-treating, he being just as tired as I. I felt like such a horrible mother. My dear Baby Kade, I will make it up to you. We came home, I helped Kade with his homework, then I sat down on the couch next to my badass. That was the end of me. I woke up at seven this morning. My alarm clock was a kiss on the cheek from my little boy.

The Chemical Reaction of Mixing Water, Vinegar and a Rubber Bag

2006-10-29T14:07:00.000-08:00

Ordinarily, I do not believe in making fun of people. Pffffffft, guffaw!!!! Yeah, right! And so, we come to the events of yesterday. I am a nice person when I am working. Let me just get that out there right now. I mean, I am REALLY nice. I am charming and sweet and funny. And I keep rude comments to myself. Which is why, I am going to let this all out here, where the people I'm about to make fun of will never read it. And if they DO happen to read it... Good! Maybe they will fucking learn something other than how to piss me off quickly.

So yesterday, I was busy being my sweet, charming self, when a couple comes to my store. They received a gift, they told me, a wedding gift SIX MONTHS AGO. And now they want to return it because for some strange reason, the six month old gift no longer works. Chances are Mr. Douche McHosin (names are changed to protect the idiotic) probably sat in his own feces while flinging said gift against the wall in an attempt to fix it. Who knows? But I said none of this and instead smiled sweetly and informed them of our two week return policy. That said, I told them that I'd get the manager, because she'd probably tell me that it was alright to return it.

They don't have a receipt, they told me, because it was a gift. Um, yeah, okay. This was about the time my bullshit meter started going off the chart, but I did not call their bluff and instead proceeded to page the manager. The manager came after a few minutes, she being busy with another customer. This didn't sit well with Mr. and Mrs. Douche McHosin. The manager is only one person, folks. She isn't superwoman... close, but not quite. She did come, though, only to tell me that while it was against company policy, she would go ahead and let me return it for them. This should have made them happy, right?

So I proceeded to scan the barcode, only for the computer to tell me that no such sku number exists in our system. *bullshit alert! bullshit alert!* I then went ahead and manually typed in the sku number, but still, there was no such sku number in our system. I looked carefully at the sku tag. IT WASN'T OUR TAG! I called the manager over again to repeat the process, while subtley eyeing the sku tag. She took the hint.

"Sir, our computer doesn't recognize this sku. And now that I look at the product.. we don't even sell this. That isn't our tag, either," she told them.

"Is it possible that they bought it somewhere else?" I asked politely.

"Oh yeah, like our friends just lied to us about where they bought it!!!!!" Mr. Douche Mchosin screamed.

"I'm not saying the lied, just maybe they made a mistake," I replied.

"Fuck this! Let's go!" Mr. Douche yanked the product off the counter, slamming it into wall in the process. He then stomped out the doors.

His wife, on the other hand, was not about to back down, which only made his exit all the more ridiculous, because after stomping out, he had to turn around and wait. *DOUCHE MCHOSIN, YOU GOT THE HOSE AND YOU GOT THE DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHE MCHOSIN YOU SMELL LIKE VINEGAR!* That's what his theme song would be if he were ever to become a superhero. What a dork, but I digress, as I have yet to get to his female counterpart.

For some strange reason, I thought that maybe Mrs. Douche might have a little more sense than her trogolodytic husband. Calmly, the manager and I both explained to her that we WANTED to help her, but we cannot return something into our system without the sku number. (I can't even get into the register unless I put a sku number in! I'm not fucking magic!) She sniffed her nose at both of us, telling us that we were being ridiculous and why would she pay for something she can't use. Well, actually, I thought to myself, you didn't pay for it, remember? You got it as a gift... Your story is starting to unravel, Hosey. Eventually, she stomps out the door, as well.

I then turned to the next customer, who as it turned out, also needed the manager's assistance. And he too, had to wait, because while I was assisting him, the manager had gotten side-tracked with yet another customer. I apologized profusely, but after having witnessed the Douches, he smiled and said he was more than happy to wait, that he would never give me a hard time. God Bless that man. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Bless him and all his own.

Sacrifices

2006-10-27T06:12:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here alone. My husband is off on a mission, my son is at school. Then he will go to a friend's house to spend the night. I, on the other hand, have to work later. I feel like they've left me behind. I do not like this feeling. It is only exacerbated by the fact that in November, my Chris will be riding onto a stage with Lee Greenwood on the back of his bike. Um, hello, in case Mr. Greenwood doesn't know, that's MY spot. AND I HAVE TO WORK. So I can't go.

GRUMBLE GRUMBLE GRUMBLE

STOMP STOMP STOMP

POUT POUT POUT

And if all that wasn't bad enough, I can't take Kade to Halloween party at church, because I'm working. I will be working on my anniversary -- you know, the magical day where everyone celebrates my anniversary by dressing up in scary costumes. The good thing is that I will get off early enough to get an anniversary dinner in there. Still, it's going to be hard to fit trick-or-treating in the same night. Add that to the fact that I will be missing a parent-teacher conference at school, as well. I've never missed one of those! Because who doesn't like hearing how great your kid is? So Chris gets to do that instead. He will never ask all the right questions, sigh.

And really, it's all about control. I am used to controlling certain situations that I can now no longer control. I have to let it go. Let Chris take on some of my responsibilities. But it's hard. Last night, I came home to find dishes backed up on both sides of the sink, down the counters and onto the stove. I have to tell myself, "Ari, you told them not to touch the dishes, because you were afraid they'd load them into the dishwasher incorrectly." So I did them all, cursing myself the entire time. Then, in Cub Scouts, they began learning different knots. It really got to me that Chris was able to teach Kade in a matter of minutes, when I had all that trouble with Kade tieing his shoes.

But you know what? After all is said and done, when I come home from work, I hear footsteps pounding down the stairs. I see an overjoyed kid, who wraps his arms around me. We tell that we missed each other. We are still adjusting to the separation, Kade and I. My Chris makes sure I have cold Mt. Dew. My Kade offers to massage my feet. AND HE DOES! The other night, he even kissed one and I have to say, it was the sweetest thing I ever witnessed. So what if I have to make a few sacrifices here and there? It all evens out in the end.

Running On Fumes

2006-10-22T20:58:00.000-07:00

We went to the Vets Home today to visit the vets. Kade was in usual form, greeting everyone he passed, introducing himself to everyone. The sad part is that unfortunately, we are never able to visit them ALL in one go. The good part is that if you sit with them long enough, they'll tell you stories. Man, those guys are funny as hell.

I am absolutely exhausted. I don't really know what's wrong with me, but I can't seem to get any energy. Having to be cheery at work sure does take it out of ya. I'm not used to having a sunny disposition for eight hours straight. I feel off. I hope I'm not getting sick. I can't deal with that right now. However, I did come home yesterday to find my house spotless. I love my boys.

Dream Interrupted

2006-10-21T08:20:00.000-07:00

(I was sitting at a table with Wentworth Miller, Hulk Hogan and Tom Cruise. We were all dining on lobsters and crab legs. They promised me chocolate chip cheesecake for dessert, so who could pass that up?)

"Mom, where's my glasses?"

"Over there."

(Mr. Cruise was being vulgar. I expressed my disdain at his obscenities, which caused Mr. Hogan to rise up to defend my honor.)

"Mom, my Gamecube isn't working."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

(Mr. Cruise refused to back down. After having accepted the challenge, he and Mr. Hogan began to duel. It was intense to say the least. Cruise got some good shots in there, but then Hogan grabbed him by the crotch, picked him up and --- )

"Mom, can I play on your computer?"

"Yes, Kade, yes. Go."

(Crap, I missed it. Hogan slammed Cruise to the ground and I missed it. For some reason, Cruise was making gurgling noises on the marble floor. This was funny to me. I began to wonder if maybe I was a very disturbed person, but then Dr. Phil waltzed in to assure me that I am quite sane. He began laughing at Cruise, as well. Then he and Hogan declare they need to take out the garbage, so they carried Cruise out the door. That left Wentworth and I to finish up the cheesecake. He looked at me and smiled. I batted my eyelashes. He leaned in.)

"Mom, can I play a different game on your computer?"

"Leave me alone! Yes, go!"

(Wentworth had a mystified expression on his face.

"You want me to leave you alone?" he asked.

"No, uh, no not you.. Where were we?"

He put his arms around me. We were close that way. He leaned in for a kiss again.)

"BREAKFAST IS READY!!!!!"

I looked up into Wentworth's eyes.

"I have to go."

"Why?"

"He made me eggs. I love his eggs."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Deal!"

Uh Yeah

2006-10-19T11:38:00.000-07:00

I would like to write a lengthy thought-provoking, soul-searching essay that delves into my innermost feelings and experiences, whilst engaging readers in a profound way. I would like to, but I can't. After two weeks of working, my brain is on vacation. The only thought coming through right now is:

DOES NOT COMPUTE

Really, the only way to get past this is to relax for the rest of the day and tomorrow. And then maybe, just maybe I can process whatever people say to me without a blank stare. Just for future reference, no, you may not get a refund for reading this entry.

Content and Tired

2006-10-16T14:41:00.000-07:00

My brain is mush. I learned something, today, though. I'd like to share:

When customers have a right to be angry, they usually aren't. When they have no reason to be angry, they will be.

In order for a roast to be cooked when you get home, it must be placed into the crockpot ahead of time, as opposed to oooooh, let's just say... leaving it in the fridge.

When people ask your age and you reply "29" and then they ask how many kids you have, they're always going to be incredulous when you respond "five". And if you want to top that, tell them you also have five grandkids. It's great.

I like when people smile back.

My dogs love popcorn. I'm too afraid to give them the kernels, so I bite that part off and give them the soft part. I think my dogs are lesbians. I think it's sweet. When they have been apart all day, they act like star-crossed lovers when they finally do see each other. They nuzzle each other's noses with a few kisses. It's so darling... Unless one of them is on your lap when they meet and then it's basically a free-for-all with a few "get off of me!" yelps in there. Those yelps ARE coming from me, you know. I typed that last sentence for the perverted people that would take that the wrong way. Friggin' pervs.

Kade is still suspicious that there are secret laboratories out there that are making biological weapons (monsters) that will hunt him. I finally had to tell him he was vaccinated against that. He was pretty satisfied with that answer. He is no longer allowed to watch zombie movies.

Chris is a sweetheart, but then again, I already knew that. That's MY Chris, you know. Although, the other Chris is probably a sweetheart, too. Probably.

Standing all day does nothing to my feet, but man does my butt hurt.

Just thought I'd share.

The Demise of Stay-at-Home Ari

2006-10-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

I just completed my first paid week of work. No big deal, right? I come home one afternoon to find my Chris sorting through charts.

"I think we should use these charts," he said.

I looked them over to discover that they were household chore lists. I smirked, thinking that he would be all "Let me tell you what to do with your time so that you can work AND clean the house." In which case, it was going to be a screaming match. And I can scream, you know. Loudly. Really loudly.

But I was wrong. Instead it had all the major household chores laid out so that the three of us could pick and choose which ones we'd do. I stuck with the chores that involved appliances that I do not want broken, like the dishwasher and laundry appliances. I don't care how progressive things are with the sexes these days, I still do not trust the boys to load the dishwasher properly. And we all know how well my Chris does laundry. *coughPINKcough*

Kade chose chores that he frequently does anyway, along with a few that were at his level, like sweeping the floor. I figure he's closer to the floor, it'll be easier for him to sweep. I like my logic. My Chris chose jobs based on glares that I give him over the table, i.e. taking out the garbage, picking up the living room.

To tell you the truth, we made our chore list and posted it on the kitchen wall for all to see, but I really didn't expect anyone to stick to it. I thought maybe it would last a day. And so, the other night, my Chris got off work before me. He was the one that picked up Kade. I came home to find the house smelling wonderful, because he had started dinner. I walked into the kitchen to find Kade sweeping the floor (although, really he was only pushing dust around.) I was surprised and happy, but strangely irritated and then I walked into the laundry room.

Someone put a pair of my pink pants in with whites!!! Who does that!? Who does that even though it's not on his chore list and I've told him time after time that pinks and reds don't go with whites?! For some inexplicable reason, I got really angry. I stomped around the laundry room muttering to myself. The pink pants in question have been washed dozens of times. They weren't going to turn any of the whites pink. I hate sweeping the floor and cooking, so why would I mind if the boys do it? They were being sweet about it. So why was I so angry?

I guess the answer is that somehow I feel as though I've lost control a bit. I've considered myself the master of this domain for so long that now it feels as if I've slipped. Who cares if they don't do things MY way, just so long as it gets done? So I've been trying to be more patient. My Chris doesn't spray down the end tables before he wipes them clean. So what? I can let that go. I showed Kade the joys of the dustpan, but he still has trouble. So what? He'll learn. Besides, my room is a mess and I haven't cleaned it in more than a week. Who am I to talk?

It sucks not being in power. It sucks to share the limelight, but on the other hand, we are sharing the responsibility, too. I sort of prefer the original method of me directing them, being the little dictator of this house, but then again I hated not being the one bringing home a paycheck. We make sacrifices, though. I can't do it all. So I'll have to let them do some.

But if you ask anyone in this house who wears the pants, IT'S STILL ME! (Black leather ones with a silk scarf as a belt.)

Modern Day Boogeyman

2006-10-08T10:09:00.000-07:00

"Hello?"

"Mom, I have you on speakerphone. I have a serious question to ask."

"What?"

"Grampa John works in a scientific lab, right?"

"Well, no, he's in pharmaceudicals."

"But they have a lab, right?!"

"Yes, but they make insulin---"

"And in that lab, are any of them making bio-engineered monsters or zombies?"

*laughs* "Uh, no."

"He makes medicine, right?"

"Yeah, he makes insulin for diabetic patients."

"See, Kade, there are no scientists out there making the ultimate biological weapon that will come hunt you down. Now go to bed."