Monthly Archives: April 2010

It’s much too much.

And now I have a weird song stuck in my head. Awesome.

For this week’s debauchery and idiocy, you get bullet points. Because I can.

  • Friday: BF gets fired. Again. Was fired the previous Friday, and then hired back within 30 minutes. Asshats. Anywho…this time for real. Whatever. He was mentally and physically exhausted at that job. That’s the one minus of working in the service industry: you burn out. Quickly.
  • Did I mention they fired him on our answering machine? Awesome. Very professional. Granted, his boss is a former NFL third-string jock-type moron. I don’t know why I expect intelligence.
  • Meanwhile, back at the home front, we have a backyard. Granted, there’s two-thirds of a tree that’s gone now. HELLO SUNLIGHT! If this wasn’t Oregon in the Spring…
  • He is a damned slave-driver when he wants to be. Maybe he’s just panicking or bored, but I have never been so exhausted after a weekend. Ever. I need naps. Lots of them. Translation: I do not weigh enough to effectively pull tree branches down from 32 feet in the air with a rope. Lesson learned.
  • Crossing fingers and toes that unemployment benefits come through.
  • Did I mention I need a nap? Oh. Right.
  • Yesterday I went to the gynecologist. Joy.
  • Today I am considering getting my tubes tied. I don’t like kids. There. I said it. Don’t hate.
  • My computer is generally fucking up at the office. If anyone needs me, I’ll be napping under my desk.
  • After 25 years, I got a library card. Squee! I’ve already read one novel, and am into the second (4 days).
  • Last night I drank 4 doubles. Not so good.

And that, dearies, is my life this week. Any questions?

For now, I leave you with this little momento:

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TMI Thursday: My first and (not quite) last

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

As an Era of Ultimate-Gross-Outs ends, I feel the need to share a little tidbit of my TMI with you all. CAUTION: IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH. RUN. I SHARE. OPENLY AND WITHOUT DISCRETION. MUAHAHAHAHAHA

My first thought was, “Where to begin?” Should I tell the couple pooping story? Should I talk about the time we both had the stomach flu with one bathroom? Should I give up my first Golden Shower story? Do I dare go with the anal? Hmm? Warning to my lovelies: you may be scared of me after this. I apologize in advance, but DAMMIT, I HAVE to! 

So, I’m giving you a childhood story of humor, pee, and innocence. 

I think I was 8 or 9 years old the Summer my family went to Larch Mountain. We went every Summer, but this particular year, I got to take my friend, Heather, with me! Oh joy of all joys.  I was an only child, so as you can imagine, I spent quite a bit of time alone. Reading. Or playing with imaginary friends. No. I’m not crazy. Shut up. We ditched my parentals, and to this day, I’m not sure what the Hell they were doing while this was going on? Anywho…we hiked…up to the top of the mountain/hill/to the look-out point. Whatever. Inconsequential.

Of course, by the time we reached the top, little-ole-me had to pee. Bad. What? I was a kid. My bladder was tiny! I’d probably had a million sodas on the way. Needless to say, there’s no port-o-potty at the top, so Heather and I RAN heels-bells down the mountain until we reached the parking area which contained a port-o-potty. I did not quite make it.

You guessed it: I peed my pants. I remember they were blue cotton. It was noticeably, not to mention stinky and uncomfortable. Ew. So, heather and I, being the brilliant, overachievers we were, made up a story to explain the now drenched crotch of my pants. We told my parents with doe-like eyes, that we’d done the splits in a mud puddle. I shit you not. My best friend actually peed her pants too, so I wouldn’t be alone in my humiliation! (You’re thinking of that Adam Sandler movie now, I know.) “All the cool kids pee their pants!”

My parents didn’t buy it. Duh. Their freaking geniuses, and that is just silly. Or funny.  However, they said nothing about it at the time. Of course later on, my Mother brought it up in front of my (then) fiance. Ouch. Thanks Mom. Love ya!

So there you have it. My first TMIT, but probably not my last. I have stories, man! Poor Heather features in another, but we’ll get into that later.


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Filed under Blogs - 2010

It’s a small world.

I’m not sure how I got hooked on blogs. At first, it may have been work boredom, compounded by curiosity, fed by non-fiction. I think I just adore how the internet has turned journals into public fodder.  We can create our own characters, pick and choose who we want to follow, and get glimpses into other’s lives.  I started following friends I’d made on Writer’s Cafe, but have since branched out. God Bless links. I’ve realized I tend towards younger women’s blogs, and even certain groups of geographically located friends. I read Dallas blogs, DC blogs, and writers from everywhere. I find people fascinating.

I’ll admit: I’m a lurker. I may comment, but not regularly. Most of the blog owners probably have no idea how religiously I read their words. It’s like a random connection to people I’ve never met, and may never meet. However, I keep them close to my heart. I ache when they ache, and laugh when they laugh. Their stories of humiliation, love, drinking, and humor make my day: anything goes with these people. I worry when they don’t write for days, and wonder what’s going on in their lives.

Recently, I’ve been worried about a fellow blogger, who had fallen out of touch for awhile. I’ve just begun getting hooked on her blog and really enjoyed her perspective.  Today, I read this: Go ahead. Read it. It’s NSFW, but not in a naughty sense. In a sense that you might actually bust out crying at your desk. Seriously.

Granted, I don’t know this woman, and have simply lurked around her blog, but still this hit me to the core. So whatever your belief system is (I don’t care), think good thoughts, pray for her, meditate, whatever. Her comments are closed for this post, most likely from the out-pouring of sympathy. She needs bloggy-love right now. They both do.

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Filed under Blogs - 2009