tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41569561004386805002024-02-08T02:54:35.235-08:00squeak squeaka noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-21441754764796241922009-11-14T18:46:00.000-08:002010-01-15T23:38:41.239-08:00Why I Once Bought $40 Worth of Ace Bandagesits embarrassing sometimes how absolutely silly I can be.<br /><br />The story happened a week before Halloween.<br /><br />Me and my boyfriend had this super fabulous AWESOME idea. seriously the BEST COUPLE COSTUME EVER: nuns. he had a beard so he could be the funny 'bearded nun', and i was going to be the 'naughty nun'. I bought six inch platform heels and a mini nun costume. online. we had a lot of fun going through all the various sites and looking at all the costumes -- dude there's at least 500 nun costumes out there. crazy. <br /><br /><br />mkay BUT: then when it got here see, i try it on and it isnt the way it looked in the picture. the fabric was different than pictured. it was this shiny stretchy stuff instead velvet. it was also unhemmed and kind of kept riding up. and the sleeves were wierd. i looked way WAY more like a 'chubby nunny' than a 'naughty nun'. Totally depressing. And this was five days before the costume party we were going to. i mean, i know what size i am and how many pounds i STILL need to lose before i will really like what i look like but STILL, i did not think i deserved to be cheated out of my FIRST halloween costume experience ever. i wanted to look at least moderately hot and that shouldnt be too damn hard. pssh.<br /><br />So the idea comes to mind, a memory really, of when I was a maid of honor at my sister's wedding and I bought both her and I something I had only ever heard of but never experienced: european body wraps! a spa experience extraordinairre. my sister chickened out, even after i called the place and the lady assured me there were no ingredients known to be allergic to brides to be. but anyways, I DID go through with it and the next day, when i put my super hot apple red bustier on, it was TOO BIG. literally. that body wrap thing worked .. well in essence it sucks out your extra water weight for a couple days before you.. swell back up to normal i guess.<br /><br />SO OK back to the current story: im depressed about my upcoming nunnishness and i remembered about that experience. and I called every single place in the two towns i live by and there are NO appointments available within the needed time frame. <br /><br />hell. bloody fat fucking hell.<br /><br />SO MY NEXT idea? go online. you can find anything there right?<br /><br />yes you can. and i did. specifically: an e book with a bunch of recipes for doing body wraps at home. YEA ME!! who says I cant figure shit out when i need to?<br /><br />so: ordered the book, read it all up, and off i went to the store for my.. ace bandages. the book said 12 and they would only cost about $@ apiece. IT was wrong, at walmart the ones i got all ended up to be forty damn dollars. whatevs. yes, this is the end of the month almost and i AM running low on funds but THIS CAUSE will need every SACRIFICE i can make to pull it off. <br /><br />the next thing was red body clay / body masking clay stuff. there wasnt any to be had anywhere. i finally found some face mask stuff that said it had benton clay which i remembered was talked about in the book too, so i got that.<br /><br />THEN: seaweed. i finally went to an asian market, and asked a lady about what kind would be best. she was perplexed, and led me to the aisle of sea weed. both chinese and japanese. and all for eating not for wrapping. i was unphased, even after she walked away muttering about white girls or something.<br /><br />so, i had all my stuff and went home. i crushed up the dried shredded sea weed and started it boiling. i went and found my space heater and put it in the bathroom turned on medium. the book says its important to stay warm. then i strained the NASTY smelling seaweed, and stirred in the mask-ey stuff along with two small niacin pills (for opening up all your arteries i think) and some essential oils (to mask that NASTY seaweed smell). <br /><br />i had a half pot of warm-goopy-not-so-bad-smelling-kind-of-lumpy-but-what-ever-mess.<br /><br />i had my big sheet. and another blanket to go over that.<br /><br />i had my hair up.<br /><br />i had my skin all scrubbed down and exfoliated.<br /><br />and, i had my ace bandages.<br /><br />all in all i spent about $55 or so. which wasnt great, but still less than the $110.00 i would have spent plus tip in a salon. i felt empowered, and ready for my adventure. and headed into the bathroom.<br /><br />the bathroom was cold. the heater had turned off at somepoint. DAMNIT. i turned it back on and debated what i should do, because this goopy shit wasnt gonna stay warm for too long. my house was built in 1891, with dang high ceiling and nothing remotely close to sufficient insulation or centwise goodness like houses have today. that bathroom was maybe 50 degrees tops. I finally decided to go ahead and get started. i got naked and began glopping up my leg, then wrapped it up with one of the bandages. <br /><br />the damn DEVIL HEATER turned itself off again. and would NOT turn back on. <br /><br />FUCK.<br /><br />so, now i just have to hurry this shit up. i glop up and wrap up everything I can, except my arms. then i do my arms. and im shivering. then, i wrap up with my sheet and thats a little better but not much. SO, i go into the living room, crank my wall heater to 90 degrees, and try to ..sit down in front of it. im all mummied up. this was a harder task than expected. but i did it and sat there on the floor in front of the heater. <br /><br />my feet got too hot. my back is still cold. this sucks ass. i finally wiggle around and lay down, sideways, in front of the heater. then using my feet and my mouth (i am too far gone in shame now to lie about this), i wiggle the other blanket mostly over me. and then i just lay there on my back.<br /><br />the heater turned off. <br /><br />here i am again, getting cold and .. gelled. not shrinking. gelling. i lay there on the floor facing the ceiling and im too squishy to even think about any new solution now. this did not work. but i still laid there.. until the door bell rang.<br />WHY? WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME?? <br /><br /><br />no i didnt answer it but i DID squish myself up and wobble hop into the bathroom. and then got everything off me and cleaned up. feeling like a full on ninny. not a nunny, a ninny. i sometimes get ninny ideas in my head, and this is how they end up. awesome. <br /><br /><br />so, to end the ninny nunny story: the body wrap seemed to shrink my boobs a little, <br />but nothing else that i could tell. i did have a super power slip that smooshed everything into where it needed to stay and that make the nun costume tolerable..for the first 1.5 hours of the party at least. then i just happened to look down, and: the sides had blown out. both of them. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT??? i spent the rest of the time with my arms down. and thank God for the damn black wonder slip, nobody noticed. <br /><br />next year, im going to be a mummy. i already got the damn bandages.a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-32234108667707054972009-05-21T19:03:00.000-07:002009-05-21T19:34:08.632-07:00TAG OCHO<a name="1595845527755054601"></a>SOOOOOOOOOO its quite true: I am in fact, fairly easy. people tell me to do stuff and i pretty much will almost always just do it. specially when im drinking. mmmmm PINK WINE IS MY NEW FAVORITE. it makes me feel like a girly girl. mkay so here it is.. my TAG 8<br /><br />8 Things I'm Looking Forward to:<br /><br />1. my boyfriend coming back home from vermont.<br /><br />2. hopefully getting a neat vermontian PRESENT .. hopefully not a hat.<br /><br />3. losing 10 pounds. which wont happen if i dont knock my over eating shit OFF and get motivated.<br /><br />4. the second glass of pink girly girl wine ;D mmmm<br /><br />5. having the answers to my dilemmas<br /><br />6. bein tanner<br /><br />7. DANCING this WEEKEND WOO HOO<br /><br />8. coloring in my lily tat. some day.<br /><br /><br />8 Things I did yesterday:<br /><br />1. ate m&ms AND skittles. dont judge me.<br /><br />2. got a phone call from a nice ladyparts lady dr. and it didnt make me cry.<br /><br />3. went to a softball game<br /><br />4. ran two damn miles in 23 minutes. which is like 11.5 min per mile. which is a full on personal fucking record. bc it usually takes me like 14 min per mile. <br /><br />5. wanted to smoke but ddnt.<br /><br />6. slept with my boyfriend one last night before he went to STUPID VERMONT.<br /><br />7. i fucking hate VERMONT<br /><br />8. i need more wine. dont judge me. i ddnt drink wine yesterday tho. just coffee. thats what i did: drank coffee.<br /><br /><br /><br />8 Things I wish I could do:<br /><br />1. punch all of vermont in the face<br /><br />2. what the fuck kind of word is that anyways? i wish i could change it to VERMONT SUCKS ASS.<br /><br />3. run THREE MILES in 33 minutes. that would truly rock. <br /><br />.4. fly. to vermont. and punch it.<br /><br />5. is that where mimes come from? vermont? hm. i wish i could punch a mime. <br /><br />6. there's this last little gloppy piece of raspberry in my glass. i wish i could get it out with my tongue. but the glass is too big. <br /><br />7. i wish i could remember the name of the author who wrote the necromancer series with that character Harry who could talk to the dead and then got turned into a vampire. bc that series kicked so much more ass than stinkin twilight you dont even know. just sayin. there were even russian spies, werewolves. hot vampire sex, EGGS, AND wormholes. it was crazy.<br /><br />8. i wish i could have time to read for fun. <br /><br />8 Shows I watch:<br /><br />psh about tweny minutes of family guy while im eating dinner if im lucky. thats it. tv's on in the background of my life but i never get to watch it. you people with your fancy DISHWASHERS and self cleaning HOUSES or even better: PARTNERS who HELP you.. you just dont know how lucky you got it. <br /><br />i used to watch america's test kitchen. and the garden shows on PBS on saturday. maybe i can do that this wknd.a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-87486635056997763982009-03-29T11:20:00.000-07:002009-03-30T09:01:21.551-07:00flowerpantsMy boyfriend runs long distances.<br />This past year i've been dating him, i've gone with him to a few events, to watch / take pictures / have his stuff ready for him /cheer him on, etc. Well last month, while waiting for him to finish up his second 'Ultrathon' of the year (31.someting miles), i decided i was tired of being the lame-ass-girlfriend-watcher. and the next moderately decent one he signed up for, i would to. Decent meaning: less than 10 miles.<br /><br />Which turned out to be titled 'Shotgun trail Blast.'<br />a 10k, 15k, or 25k trailrun. Vinnie was doing the 25k but i figured i could handle the 10k. 'It's only six miles' i said to myself. i can run that on the treadmill in an hour and a half. factoring another half hour in for the 'trail' variable, i figured i could do this in two hours and it would kick ass to do my first 10k on a trail run instead of a flat run.<br /><br />well, thats what i was thinking anyways.<br />I could have named the blog after this but instead, my title is a heartfelt toast to the 73 year old lady who beat me at this run. by 22 minutes. In her 20 year old pink orange and blue flowered capris, belly bag, and terry cloth sweatband.Let me first state: The name of this run was absolutely misleading. This was no happy 'trail run'. Read this description below:<br /><br />Shotgun Trail Blast:<br />"If you love trails, trees, hills, mud, and more mud, then this is the race for you. The scenery is fantastic, the course is challenging and the experience will be unforgettable. The first 1.7 miles of the 10K and 15K and the first 2.6 miles of the 25K are on a smooth paved surface along the creek, before turning onto the trails. The rest of the courses are on wide, muddy, hilly and super-scenic forest trails, with significant elevation gain and loss. All events finish with a 1/2 mile stretch on pavement. The 25K course will be as challenging as running a road marathon - please come prepared."<br /><br />Ok, granted; there is a sentence in there citing 'significant elevation gain and loss'. HOWEVER i must humbly beg to fucking differ: those trails were not wide. they were trenches. trenches dug by four wheelers and other off road vehicles. these trails were indeed muddy. the kind of sucking mud that wants to steal your soul along with your shoes. the significant elevation? ohhh yes. it was significant. we were traveling uphill. the WHOLE FUCKING TIME. UPHILL. close to 2000 feet. not at any normal slope. at an EVIL slope.<br /><br />i was thoroughly disillusioned.<br />this was no 'trail event'. this was a 'trench event.' if i had read about a 'trench event thru bitch ass trenches going up 2000 feet', i might have asked myself: "hmm, am i ready for that?" and probly just done the two mile fun run last week with the cute little shamrock shirt. but no. i read 'muddy trail with significant elevation', and i interpreted some uppy - downy hilly terrain with a few mud puddles and a happy go lucky crowd alongside me.<br /><br />one hour uphill in a trench taller than me getting my shoes sucked off and all i could think (when i could think) is: flower pants did this? flowerpants is kicking my ass? also i must state, all the little runs i've done have allll KINDS of people who take however long to do their thing. this was a 'serious' event. i didnt get that, i guess, when i was reading the description. this was an event for those who Train. and Just. Do. It. and wear funny thingys over their shoes to keep the mud out. and use words like 'sub-one' and such. <br /><br />I will state this: the 'Blast' part of the name was accurate. my friend Tracy came with me. im glad she did. it was superfun bonding, moaning and getting lost or almost so. we were so far behind the rest of the runners (ok, the ACTUAL runners bc we were NOT running most of the time), the aid stations had already packed up and left by the time we reached where they were supposed to be. that sucked. plus the event leader had stated there were boy scouts all over the place, and we had our little trail map and 'the trails are clearly marked' and there was 'no way you could get lost out there' what the hell ever. we were stressed about where we were most of the time. we had a little bag of energy chews and no water. we didnt see one damn scout until we found the road again. that was a blessed event. After an hour and a half in the forest trenches, we had arrived at the last water station. in time. after that it was about three tenths of a mile to the finish, on nice flat road. awesome.<br /><br />we came in dead dang last at two hours seven minutes. the announcer broadcasted it out "Oh, here's two more finishers" he stated our names, our times, and then said "moving right along, the name of the first place female runner is .." she came in exactly one hour before us.<br /><br />whatever. Tracy brought beer. and we got to drink them while waiting for vinnie to come in from his 15 mile jaunt (which he did at two hours, thirty eight minutes, taking eighth place and second in his age group. bc thats how he rolls) Yes, the forest was beautiful, but not as heart-rendering beautiful as seeing those bottles with the pretty blue mountains on them coming out of her cooler. this is the best beer i've ever ever had. and besides, i was only a few minutes over my orignial estimation of two hours which i have to say, seems miraculous given that i had not counted on climbing a whole freakin mountain when i was doing my pre- event math.<br /><br />flower pants had already left, which was too bad. we wanted to offer her a beer to thank her for the inspiration. that old woman seriously has it goin on.a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-89488035669661115042009-03-11T19:33:00.000-07:002009-03-12T09:36:31.363-07:00fat wednesdaythis will be short. im cold and sweaty. i was running but that one father figure called and so i had to get off the treadmill exactly three minutes short of my 30 minute goal. BUT: my distance was 2.1 miles. thats a whopping thirteen minutes per mile people.<br /><br />ANYWAYS: today: weightwatchers. unbeFREAKINGlievable. i actually gained 1.something pounds in the last week. that sucked. i am moderately competetive which is why when i hear other people losing weight, and im not, im not happy for them. not completely. im a little bit pissed inside. this is not an emotion im proud of. however it did make me get on the treadmill though..<br /><br />after weightwatchers all i really wanted to do was go to my cubby and eat licorice feel sorry for myself in peace. i didn't get to do that tho. there was this whole dramatic email wrangling i had to go through regarding my coed volleyball team. we started on consisting of four couples. on the deadline day which was two fridays ago. THEN on the monday we got an email from the coordinator stating there were two more last minute girls added on. as in: they were added on the MONDAY after the DEADLINE day. and let me be clear- it was ME that scrambled around that whole day making a team of eight. and feeling pretty dang good about it in the end. so ok fine, two more girls. i try to contact them like three times and no. response. whatsoever. i know they READ the damn emails but they for whatever reason didnt want to respond. that's not cool. neither did they choose to come to the team planning meeting the weekend after. so what the hell? do i have to put up with this? especially when it means if they DO show to games there will be four people rotating out every game. which means all of us will have significantly less playing time. which is NOT what any of us paid money for-- to sit and watch the damn game.<br />so it took today about eight emails and one or four IM conversations for the coordinator to understand that if the other two nonresponsive girls stayed on the team, then two couples were actually going to back out of the team and we wouldnt have enough MEN to make it a COED team. this was not what i had in mind when i accepted the position of 'captain'. i thought all i had to do was flip the damn quarter and sign the roster. maybe set up some practices. this whole thing was awkward and exhausting and now i have to take the coordinator out to lunch to make it right with HER. because i like her and this sucked for her too.<br /><br />so THEN.. after work i went and got my face zapped. do you know about electrolosis? fun times. This means those little soldiers are gone from my chin and eyebrows, to return NEVERMORE. mkay it really is a form of torture though: the lady sticks this tiny tiny little filament right next to the hair down the shaft into the follicle or whatever, then zaps it three times. you hear a 'beep beep beep', you FEEL a 'zap zap zap', you try very hard NOT to curse or claw through the bench. especially when it is your upper lip. let me be clear: i have TWO tattoos both of which were moderately time consuming, over bone areas, and not exactly a walk in the park but ooooohhhhh MOMMY, the lip area is one ouchy place. it actually wasn't so bad today, as in i managed to get through it without crying or flinching or biting anything. my orignial idea when i started this was to begin at the top (my face) and work my way.. down. now, im less and less thrilled with that. im just visualizing getting through one session at a time.<br /><br />then i went to get the six year old and then to the post office and today she was really very particularly six. her entire conversation consisted of requests:<br /><br />'mommy can i have a pink ipod?'<br />no.<br />'why not?'<br />because.<br />'mommy can i have a laptop?'<br />no.<br />'when im sixteen can i have a laptop?'<br />no.<br />'why not?'<br />because.<br />'mommy can i play nintendo when we get home?'<br />no.<br />'why not?'<br />'because i cant find the pluggy thingy for it ok?'<br /><br />let me be clear: she already knows why not to all these things. she's just trying to brainwash me into zombie mother. it is tolerable most days and sometimes i do find it stimulating to outthink her (sad, i know) but today, i have to pee and my face hurts and its all red around my lip and brows and im very very aware of my muffin top thanks to the f/ing bloody lunchtime fatty club, and i just want to go get my mail and go home and pee. with my shoes off. in silence.<br /><br />so i tell her to HUSH and lock her in the car and get my dang mail (which takes literally less than one minute people so dont judge me bc i HAVE timed it and i can see my car and how many other cars are in the parking lot= two, PLUS the back is tinted windows so no one else can see her. i AM a safety girl damnit) and coming out, a guy holds the door open for me as he's coming in and i try to say thank you while holding mail in front of my face but not looking like im trying to be ungrateful, and i get out and unlock my car when i hear and 'excuse me'--<br />and i turn around. and it's the door opener guy.<br /><br />'i would like to just introduce myself' he says, coming forward and extending his hand to shake.<br /><br />im freaking out. he is a guy approaching me in a parking lot, and ya he was black, but thats not why im freaking out. im freaking out bc i have to look at someone else IN THE FACE w/my DANG RED ZAPPY STASH .. and please remember, i still have to pee. and im worried he's either going to lecture me about leaving shana in the car or try to sell me something. and if i brush him off THEN he will think im doing that because of his skin and think im a racist when i really just have to pee. soo bad. did u know holding your pee can cause bladder infections? bc it CAN. this is serious medical issue people.<br /><br />'hell with it' i think. im not going to create a negative self perception for somebody else just bc i am insecure whiny girl today. i toss the mail in the seat, lean forward, look him in the dang ol eyes and shake his hand.<br /><br />he looked at my hand. and said 'oh, are you married?'<br /><br />i have a ring on my left hand ring finger. not bc im married but bc its too big now for my right ring finger.<br /><br />i was caught completely off guard. almost surprised enough to tell him the truth BUT.. i decided to stick with simplicity today. for pee's sake.<br /><br />'yes i am' i say, and i smiled really big. he wasnt a bad lookin guy at all.<br /><br />he apologized, and backed away with the 'no disrespect' posture. i said no worries and thank you. and smiled some more. he said 'good luck with that,' and i said 'you too man.'<br /><br />he got into a nice shiny newer tahoe, and i got into my car, and went home and peed.<br /><br />with my shoes off. ;Da noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-18681801935246223712009-03-09T19:22:00.000-07:002009-03-09T20:24:21.137-07:00secretshmm long time no BLOGGIE ;D i need some practice. so i had originally decided i would do lil bloggies here n there on those every-other-sunday mornings when my kids are with the other 'parent', and my super awesome bf is fishing or hunting or engaging in some other manly activity. but LATELY... the oddest things been happening: my boyfriend kind of likes me around. it's pretty neat. i dont really try to count on it or anything and i never point it out, but i do get that tummytickle- shoulderscrunchy- AWWW smiley going, when it's saturday night n he's all "so tomorrow.. what do YOU want to do?" he's pretty awesome. n he always kisses my forehead n my cheeks n hes super sweet when it comes to trying to think of something to say-- like the other day, i came over to his house n showed him my hair (i got highlights) n i said i ddnt like them bc they looked kind of goldy- stripey and HE SAID THIS: 'oh i dont know, they accent your lips..' <br />this was even in the same room as his brother. who actually choked on something. <br />i was shocked. like my jaw dropped. his brother turned and we looked at each other. in shock. then his bro said 'oh man, you are so good for my brother!" ;D i know right? ;D too funny. <br /><br />oh right, i totally digressed there. in a fairly vomit-inducing way im sure. so sorry.<br /><br />ANYWAYSsssss... i had this idea to throw out like my top ten silly secrets. i dont believe its in any kind of order. just rather, first come first serve. here u go ;D<br /><br />1. i wish i had a british accent. i wish i at least knew someone who did. there IS this one lady who is a higher- up sort of person at my work, and everytime i see her im so disapointed because she totally LOOKS british. but no accent whatsoever. she's got the overite, the houndstooth vest and white shirt,the wierd undone- curly hair and im certain she's got a dog she loves more than her nephews n neices, but no accent.<br /><br />2. i know i need to lose 18 damn pounds. i know how to accomplish this. i know exactly how much to eat of WHAT and how much f/ing bloody cardio activity i need to engage in. i just prefer margaritas is all. and candy. and sitting to running. sitting. yeah. sitting. ;D<br /><br />3. i used to want to be just like janet jackson. she did that one video back when i was prbly like 11 or 12 and she jumps on this chair and then makes it just kind of slowly go down over backwards n that ws the COOLEST thing i ever seen. i was a big fan of ummmwhatshername black chic with AMAZING vocal powers n got into coke n married bobby brown. WHITNEY HOUSTON. LOVED HER. she was AMAZING.<br /><br />4. that was way before the nipple piercings tho. just sayin.. about jackson i mean ;D<br /><br />5. i let my six year old watch family guy and sing along to hip hop. i let my teenager attend alternative school, wear blue eyeshadow and cuss. im really not the best at this mothering biz.. but i do make up for it with some fairly interesting insight. and candy. and AND- i might add: i havent left them in the rain on an orphanage step yet.<br /><br />6. one week out of the month im insanely insecure and i cry. alot. i have learned to avoid blogging during this time at least. i hope u all are grateful for that. this is the time of the month when im certain i will never be good at my job, and my kids will always lack for what i cant provide for them, and my skin is only going to become less and less attractive, i should break up with my boyfriend bc he will never ever say he loves me. the wierd part: i dont menstruate. i just get that wonderful emotional rollercoaster. got to LOVE the merena. please believe.<br /><br />was this TMI?? is there such a thing? let me know.<br /><br />7. my boyfriend bought me one of those mattress- cover thingys for valentines day.. and i really DID appreciate it ;D i did go out and by myself a moderately gaudy bauble, however chances are i would have done that anyways.<br /><br />8. i prefer male hairstylists to male manicurists. there is just SOMETHING not right about getting a mani - pedi from some 19 year old vietnamese kid with a blinged out necklace and skater shirt on. i was civil and appreciative and a good customer. i found out he's putting himself through pharmacy tech school. good for him man. but still, i didnt let him massage my legs. which is a big part of doing the whole pedi experience. i just couldnt. it would have been... wrong.<br /><br />9. subway makes the best chocolate chip cookies. i used to go there and by a veggie wrap so i could justify buying a cookie. then it was two cookies. thankfully the madness finally stopped when they discontinued the 'wraps' and introduced the 'flatbread'. which is not really transferable to a veggie-- thingy. my friend whitney did bring me to quizno's tho and they do have some dang good salads. havent tried the cookies yet tho.. im scared.<br /><br />10. i always cry for my mom when i throw up. this happened just like three weeks ago. in a charter fishing boat on the ocean. in front of my boyfriend. and ten other strange men. i did catch the biggest fish, but that ddnt stop me from puking my guts out and crying like a bitch.a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-24583425973394744612009-01-21T22:06:00.001-08:002009-01-21T22:50:49.083-08:00knock knockshe opened the door and looked out.<br /><br />and when the only thing to catch her eye were the spiderwebs on the porch lattice across from her, she looked down. and there he was. dressed in a leathery hat and stained gloves, patched- knees trousers and a belt with pouches hanging on the side, the garden gnome stood.<br /><br />his redrimmed eyes .. eyed her. he turned his head to the side and spat down the steps. he had a trowel tucked in one side of his belt. his skin was old mud and coffee grounds. the hair under his chin was lichen. the veins on his forehead reminded her of roots.<br />she didnt know quite what to say.<br /><br />he glared, and harrumphed, and finally released these rough few words:<br /><br />'mind you dont let those girl-brats tromp through the roses, i've just planted garlic round the base.'<br /><br />chains dragging over muddy gravel would be a close comparison to his voice, grating up at her from less than knee height.<br /><br />she raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth to respond.. but there, shes lost.<br />who talks to garden gnomes?<br />i mean really?<br /><br />he sniffs. and fingers the pouch closest to his right hand. waiting.<br /><br />she says, 'thank you?'<br /><br />or meant to, truly, however only the sound of her intake of air is heard. a thin, slow gasping, and that is all. she closes her mouth, and opens it again, but still: nothing.<br /><br />his wrinkly weathered brow wrinkles further, and he turns and spits again. before adding:<br />'you'll be wanting that garlic soon enough.'<br /><br />and with that, he's down the stairs and disappearing around the side of the house.<br />in a moderately spritely fashion.<br /><br />which should be expected, as they are related.<br /><br />she shut the door. and blinked.<br />and stood there, absorbing or repressing the moment.<br />the inside of her house hummed electrically.<br />the shoes lining the side of the wall stayed in their patient spots.<br />she considered locking the door, and didnt.<br /><br />she did walk into the living room tho,<br />and ask her children to stay out of the garden for the next few days.<br /><br />and then she went to her desk and googled for the better part of an hour:<br />"fairy food, gnome cuisine, sprite snacks", til she found something she deemed appropriate, organic and healthy and not too tricky to prepare.<br /><br />single moms need all the help they can get.<br /><br /><br /><em>see this is way funner than bitching about relationships ;D</em>a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-58224870698926208522009-01-21T08:48:00.001-08:002009-01-21T09:13:13.792-08:00boys are stupid<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">so i forgot my password. thats why i havent been here in a million years. it just took me this long to go thru the process of resetting the damn thing. do you have ANY IDEA just how many passwords i have to manage in my life? more than the normal civilian thats for sure. its ridiculous. i have to have a separate document where i put them all. hidden in a lock box in my basement. with bats and gargoyles keeping watch. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">so ok: here's a question: if you have been with a guy for exactly one whole damn year and you still dont know for sure how he feels about you, as in hes NEVER FUCKING SAID how he feels about you, and the time has come and gone where celebrating any kind of anniversarial moment would be... timely, what would be the best course of action to take? let's consider some options here:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1. give in to my sense of entitlement and withdraw in an icy manner. what will this give me? more neuroticism to mindfuck myself with while im all by myself. not getting laid. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. bitch. as in specifically bring up the issue and show that im hurt about it. where will THIS road go? straight to smoking. alone. and not getting laid. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. not say anything. and quietly mindfuck myself with all the possibilities. but i still get laid. until i dont.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and to further complicate things, i truly believe two opposing beliefs: </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">a. that its best for the guy to bring up emotional stuff first bc that way they dont feel trapped or whatever and also bc when its their idea, they tend to invest in it a little more. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">b. its never good to ignore your needs as a person and only focus on theirs. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">well heres a thing-- ive ignored my need to be emotionally fucking validated for ONE FULL ON FUCKING YEAR here and while he is sooo wonderful in all the other ways you can think of, it still sucks to not have that part. am i being too impatient? am i being too narrow minded? have i missed my chance? its not that i dont feel cared for. i dont feel used or anything. we are both really good at saying thank you. i just wish i was a little more than 'awesome'. so maybe i am selfish. and shortsighted. and i dont want him to say anything he doesnt mean, which is why ive been willing to wait for when he does. but still: the worst part is when im feeling threatened by other girls. if i knew how he felt about me then his attention to other girls wouldnt be SUCH a bitch for me. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">this one thing i read said that it doesnt matter how long youve been w/ a guy, he will say how he feels only when he' s ready. and girls are always more ready before guys are. so whats going on is in that sense, normal. this is not comforting. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">this one other thing i read said guys will only open up emotionally when they feel completely comfortable doing so. and if you (the girl) are a bitch and withdraw or are a bitch and explode that will decrease their fucking ass comfort level. awesome. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">im going to take care of myself by getting another hobby. my sister scrapbooks. i already play volleyball but thats only one day a week. i need another one. who wants to do bellydancing with me? CMONCMONCMON ;D COME ON ;D i got zils ;D they make neat noises ;D </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">mkay im going to do work now.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span>a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-36417162053737303452008-12-13T09:46:00.000-08:002008-12-13T12:36:47.408-08:00choicesi<br /><br />considered<br /><br />writing about<br /><br />what i found today<br /><br />in a drawer that wasn't mine.<br /><br />instead<br /><br />i'm choosing <br /><br />to put my shoes on<br /><br />and go outside<br /><br />and run.<br /><br />it's<br /><br />better<br /><br />than smoking.<br /><br />i may just do that too tho,<br /><br />after.a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-78021484574079692512008-12-10T15:15:00.001-08:002008-12-10T15:16:31.628-08:00a mother's karma<span style="font-family:arial;">Hi.<br /><br />My name is Susanne and I am surviving a sixteen year old daughter.<br /><br />Barely.<br /><br />So today I was just talking to a coworker who has two young daughters, and she was saying how scared she is of when her kids are sixteen, and I had told her how much BETTER my kid is now than she was last year, how ON TOP of things she is, how she’s gotten a new sense of INSIGHT and she’s all RESPONSIBLE and GOAL ORIENTED and all this stuff…<br /><br />And of course, my karma is such that my words always come back to haunt me.<br /><br />This child is out of control. Still.<br /><br />Her teacher called me today, leaving a msg that states he has been trying to reach my kid and she needs to go to Friday school and he really wants to get her back on track.<br /><br />The school she goes to is an alternative one. If students miss more than %20 of class time, they are placed in a probationary status and not allowed to attend school until they have completed two ‘Friday school sessions’. So in essence they are out of school except for Friday for two weeks straight.<br /><br />SO clearly, my child has failed to attend her %80 portion and has received Friday school probation and has failed as well to tell me.<br /><br />I call my child. She’s at home. After informing her that her teacher called me I asked her to tell me what’s going on. At this stage of the game, she knows its too late to do anything but tell the truth and this is what she does… and apparently she has been leaving ‘for school’ every day for the last two and one half weeks, and then coming back home after I go to work. Except for the days she stays downtown and smokes pot with her friends. Well, that part came out after I asked her what would show if I brought a UA kit home.<br /><br />Awesome.<br /><br />So I tell her to call her teacher and straighten this out and then call me and let me know what the outcome is. And I tell her im pissed at her for her dishonesty around whats going on—not only neglecting to inform me of her current status, yesterday she straight out LIED to me and said she came home early from school bc another girl upset her. And that she had all her time in and had cleared this with her teacher.<br /><br />This kid only has to be in school for three hours per day, Monday thru Thursday. That’s all. It’s not a lot to ask.<br /><br />I work full time. She has lots of room to skip with and clearly knows how to take advantage of the opportunities. I get that kids will choose to do this.<br /><br />Still, the absolute pisser of the situation is her attitude shows barely any remorse. Let alone an interest or motivation for change.<br /><br />I told her she was grounded, and she asked for how long. I said ‘how bout three weeks since that’s how long you’ve been lying to me?’<br /><br />And then her response: ‘it’s only been two’.<br /><br />So I told her to consider the extra week as interest.<br /><br />And the next thing out of her mouth is: ‘So do I still get that $40 you were going to give me?’<br /><br />Is she SERIOUS? For REAL? She gets herself kicked out of school, lies to me, and then has the audacity to ask for her allowance? Unbelievable.<br /><br />I almost asked ‘why—do you need to pay off your drug dealers?’ but then I decided I didn’t want to hear the answer. And seriously, if she actually does owe any money for anything then that’s a lesson all unto itself and she can learn it the hard way.<br /><br />The deal is, I pay her cell phone bill which is about $60, and I also give her $80 a month for whatever she wants, lunch money or whatever else, in two $40 increments. The understanding is this is money she is entitled to as an ‘upstanding member of the household’- she watches her sister on the occasions I ask her to, and she attends her classes. If she hasn’t been attending school for the last two damn weeks, I don’t feel too terribly obligated to fork over money to her.<br /><br />So how about NO, I keep my hard earned cash and she can step up and make some responsible decisions. And we can try again next month. That’s the response I want to make (editing out the cussing parts), however I just told her we would talk about it tonight.<br /><br />It just really sucks. The whole fucking thing. And that’s what I have to look forward to dealing with tonight.<br /><br />There is one positive about this situation: practice makes perfect. Both my child and I were able to maintain a phone conversation without resorting to screaming, belittling, or foul language. This says something about both of us, in that we are continuing to grow and work on communication.<br /><br />Damn communication building anyways. It never ever ends.</span>a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-84403470734469459432008-12-06T20:13:00.000-08:002008-12-06T20:18:03.926-08:00a thanksgiving miracle<span style="font-family:arial;"><br />So the best way to get this one out of the way is probly just to time line it.<br />I was at my previous employment for about 3.5 years. The actual work did not actually suck. Social services is always going to be a job that makes u feel dirty some days and super great other days.<br />I actually had two jobs working six days a week for the last two years for two nonprofits. One in the mental health side of social services and one in the domestic violence side. I would make the statement ’two kids, two jobs, two hands’. and feel good about it. I worked my ass off. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Until our fine state hit hard times.<br /><br />On the 12th of last month I had an interview that went amazingly well. I rocked. The feedback I got from the people who knew the people on the interview panel said so. Plus I could just tell. It was great. I went home that Wednesday feeling awesome. Not awesome like I was going to get the job, per se. I don’t have a masters degree, and I only meet the minimum requirements for the position. But I still wanted to interview for it and I did it and not only did it go good, it went WELL. Woo hoo for me ;D<br /><br />The next day I got laid off. DHS took a %20 per cent budget hit and the decision was to delete almost all the contract partner positions, which is what I was. My supervisor came to work and informed me that I had until the 1st of December. It was awful. Two of three of us were eliminated. The one left was and is currently dealing with a horrific mess.<br /><br />And see the thing is, I’m a single mom. Yes I get child support but dude doesn’t even make as much as me and he’s got two other offspring to concern himself with now.. Hence the reason why I was working TWO jobs ever since he left the picture. And felt fortunate to do so.<br /><br />I felt fortunate I still had one job at that point, even if it was only for one or two days a week. And plus I have had some kind of employment since my oldest was two. So I knew there would be unemployment benefits. And that plus my kid money , and minus the need for child care, would mean we would be covered for all basic needs. In other words, I would not be on the other side of the desk. Asking for welfare. Extremely fortunate indeed.<br /><br />But when you have been the major breadwinner for the last six years, its more than just money gone when your job ends. Its your identity. And that was a fucking hard pill. And the other part was waiting through the last days until my job ends.. All the people coming up and offering what words they could. I did more smiling and nodding and reassuring THEM than actually working with clients.<br />And how could I work with my clients ? When in just a few days not only would I be gone, I would be just like them-- jobless and depressed and disempowered.. It was an unrealistic expectation.<br /><br />So, I didn’t. I cleared my calendar of all available appointment slots and spent all my time job hunting, resume-cover letter- supplemental question updating, emailing and contacting people in my network. All day that Friday.<br /><br />I came in on Monday and my work search continued. Until the director who interviewed me came to my desk and told me very gently I didn’t get the position, and the only reason was bc I don’t have a Masters. She offered her condolences and gave as much encouragement as she could and I thanked her for it. And for her letting me know so quickly. And I did understand completely. Competition is competition and that’s how it goes. I went back to job hunting.<br /><br />That whole week I had possibly two or three client contacts at the most. But since the job position itself was changing after I left, those contacts had the barest hint of actual work attached. I met the ladies, listened to their stories, gave them some phone numbers to counseling what not. And let their cm’s know they came. that’s it. Approximately one whole thumbnail’s worth compared to what I used to do. I was grateful how little of my time they took, since I needed all that time to find work. And again, even though it was painful, I was grateful for the opportunity to be paid to look for work. As it were.<br /><br />The week went by. Friday came. There was a planning meeting on my calendar, and I was expected to attend. These meetings have nothing hardly at all to do with me, except in the most abstract sense as being part of the team. I checked with a supervisor to make sure I really was wanted there, and she confirmed they did. Bloody freaking fuck. Fine. I went. Hoping it would end early so I could maybe use up my last free tan on my lunch.<br /><br />It didn’t end early and I didn’t go tanning. That meeting was the worst part of my whole week. Keep in mind, I’m doing my best to keep my emotions to myself and NOT vent or freak out or even be sarcastic this whole time, bc I don’t want to make anyone feel any worse about the situation. However. For no less than fifty five minutes, I was subjugated to a roomful of women who not only all get to keep their jobs, they get to plan services for clients for the next month. The month I’m NOT going to be there, so why am I here NOW in this fucking meeting? Because there was one question they wanted me to address.<br /><br /> I will tell you this question shortly. First they had to go thru the agenda. Bullshit bullshit here, bigfucking who cares there, and then: ‘the issue at hand’. they take great pains to not look at me while describing what we all already know: all the contracts DHS made in JULY have been broken. They take great pains to state how they will miss the other contracts. They then look at me and ask: when is my coworker taking things on ? And will she be doing attendance?<br /><br />that’s it. Not anything more personal than that. These are the supervisors. And the one other contractor that’s been deemed more necessary than ours, and therefore able to maintain most of their employees.<br /><br />I give them their answers. She will be here soon and I don’t see her able to maintain attendance at this point, but its not up to me to state for certain. They accept this. And move on to the next topic: ‘the face of the new client’.<br /><br />They describe IN detail how the newest client population has actually never been on assistance before, they are shell shocked people who perhaps lost their businesses or were LAID OFF for the first time ever and they don’t know what to do about it.<br /><br />What a shocking description. Its like I’m this stinking dead horse in the room, they all talk about in depth, with compassion bleeding through their voices, and yet not one fucking bitch in there is willing to look me in the eye. These are ladies I had, up until one week prior, an excellent working relationship with. These are women I have connected to with humor and stories about our kids and with staffing clients and potlucks and all the other shit it takes to be part of the welfare office.<br /><br />But now, I am a leper. And an ugly unmentionable one at that. I get this. And accept the fact that their personal limitations do not really mean anything more than that. They cant handle this situation appropriately and this is how its turning out and fuckitol anyways. The fifty five minutes come to an end, and ever so gratefully I get up to leave. Just doing my best to breath normally.<br /><br />Until going out the door, the chic behind me huffs and says: ‘I don’t see why I even had to be in there.’<br /><br />IS SHE FOR FUCKING ASS REAL???<br /><br />I turned, and looked at her, and said: ‘Ya. No shit, huh?’ and kept on walking. She at least had the grace to go ‘oh, right.’ but at that point I wasn’t trying to talk. I just walked down the aisle, threw my pen and pad over my cubbie wall, went into the bathroom and cried. And since that took about eight minutes to finish up, I DIDN’T get to go tanning, I went to my car and sat there. Then I went back to my desk, to my latest supplemental question set.<br /><br />I got to work on it for about five minutes when a very nice man entered my cubbie to check on how I’m handling things (didn’t tell him) and to then offer me a job posting that hasn’t yet hit the papers yet. Its an awesome job and he was so nice, he told me all about how I would be so great at it and it was just so nice. I thanked him and told him I would start that one as soon as I was done with the one I was working on.<br /><br />He left, and I kept working. With an improved sense of self and gratitude- for genuine people and for opportunities to work towards and for the fact that I still at that point had all of Friday afternoon plus Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the next week to keep on plugging away at my job search. Wednesday was the last day, bc it was the day before Thanksgiving and my employer always gave the day after Thanksgiving off also.<br /><br />Not two minutes afterwards, the director who interviewed me (remember, for that job she told me on Monday I DDNT get?) came to my cubby. And asked how I was doing. I said ‘well, today has had its ups and downs, but that’s how it goes I guess..’ and smiled at her. I have known her for almost three years. We were cubby neighbors at a different branch a couple years ago. Her daughter is a good friend of mine. I’m not at all butt hurt that she didn’t hire me. And so anyways she asked if she could talk to me for a minute and I said sure and then she goes “if you still want that job it’s all yours.” and looks at me.<br /><br />..and I just look back at her. And blink. ?I’m sorry, I think she just said something amazing but fuck if I’m not sure…?<br /><br />I just said ‘ohhh SUE, I will CRY RIGHT NOW!” umm I think I whispered that actually I couldn’t hear anything over my heartbeat at that point.<br /><br />She said “the person we originally offered it to fell through, and frankly, I didn’t like anyone else we interviewed but you. Its going to be a lot of work and a pretty big learning curve, do you still want the job? Do you think you can do it?”<br /><br />“OH HELLS YA!! I CAN DO ANYTHING!!!” ya I really said it just like that ;D<br /><br />And AMEN and AMEN and AMEN. I got to start on the day that originally would have begun my lay off. I got to go home and tell my teenager I had a new job and what it was. She asked “does this mean you wont be on unemployment?’ and I said ‘ya’ and she cried. I got to tell my boyfriend and my family. And I’m so grateful. Not just for state bennies. Not just for the huge ass pay differential that means I can finally work just ONE job like normal people. But also for the fact that I have wanted THIS JOB for SO LONG.<br /><br />I have seen it as the next step in what I’m already doing: empowering people to become self sufficient. And this job is not on the ‘front lines’. as it were. Its close, but at least one row if not two back from the front. And that’s ok. I’ve done my time on the front. For almost six years. I’ve been on the other side of that line as well, much of my life, for one reason or another. Which has lots to do with the choosing of my profession.<br /><br />And now, I can breathe. And be grateful. Thank You Lord. For all your blessings. Amen.</span><br /></span>a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4156956100438680500.post-27737475422593041172008-12-06T10:35:00.000-08:002008-12-06T11:20:53.417-08:00<span style="font-family:arial;">good morning. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">so i have lots to say and this is a place i can do so w/out my real world peeking... more or less. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">hmmm... i could jump into it, or i could introduce myself, or i could call the whole thing off n go clean my kitchen like i should be. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">ambivalence enters the room and settles on my couch, drinking coffee and smirking.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">mkay fine.. most of the people in my life- and perhaps some of you fine readers- have an understanding of who i am and where i come from and thats all well and good. what really matters is where i am now, though. and really the only way i can process all that is by writing. its just cheaper than therapy. but just like therapy, the trickiest part is knowing where to start.. theres just so many dang topics to choose from:</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">im starting a new career, one i have wanted to get into for years. it is a great story that very much deserves its own blog. not to mention my previous employment experiences are chock full of blogworthy bitchings..</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">i have a boyfriend whos very unlike any i have ever had before: decent. untainted by drugs, cigarrettes, and video poker. buys me cheese graters n flowers n never calls me names. he just likes his beer n football n runs a marathon or two a year. and yet..</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">i have two girls.. born ten years and one day apart, to the absolute minute. they have different dads (not my current partner). and different personalities too, tho sometimes i wonder if thats the result of genetics, or just the gemini in them. my oldest especially is worth her weight in blogging material.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">my families of origin: there's some fun shit. did u catch the plural?? im adopted. from crazy people, by crazy people. i have a degree in psychology, i should know. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">wellll fuckitol.. the kids are bickering and my kitchen is calling and we have to buy a tree today. but i will share one supergreat thing: i have tomorrow off too. in fact, its my FIRST sunday off in like two years. n thats just one of the bonuses of my new career: i only need one dang job now, how awesome is that??</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> so ya, i will be back. perhaps with more of a plan by then. i ddnt really research this shit when i started, so i hope i can do things like edit or whatever after i post this. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span>a noni mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182024444964971061noreply@blogger.com4