Thursday, September 30, 2004

I'm a bad American

I should be watching the Presidential debates about now.

That would be the case if I hadn't finally gave in and took the Nyquil.

I am higher then a kite right now. I tried watching, but Kerry was really creeping me out cuz his forehead don't move and Bush looked like a monkey. Kerry has one of those crazy eyes that goes the other way too.

Bush just tore him up over inconsistencies in his positions and changing what he thinks as political views change, and that that is not how a Commander in Chief acts.

By the way the late teen to early 20 somethings are cheering in my living room, I'm thinking they are leaning towards Bush right now.

Me? I'm seeing botoxed to the hilt pink elephants with big ears and crazy eyes running across my kitchen.

I am barely clinging to life

over here...I can see the grim reaper snearing at me outside my window.

I'm dying still. Dying a slow, horrible morbid death full of phlem, mouth breathing, and clogged up ears.

Doesn't that paint a pretty picture?

I have blown my nose 12 times in the last half hour. That's what it'll probably say on my death certificate. She blew herself to death. Wait...That doesn't sound good...

My nephew is still no where to be found, and when he gets back I'm going to make him paint my toenails. I refuse to be buried with toenails that do not match my fingernails. Hey, even dying people have standards.

There is a first for everything

Today I have done something that I have never done in the 25 years I have worked (yes, I started working at 8 years old).

I called off sick.

I have never missed a day of work. Ever.

It seems I am sick again. In the last two weeks I have been sick more then I have in 3 years. Now it seems I have the cold from hell. Everyone at work had it, and I was totally convinced I would be ok as I haven't had a cold in probably 5 years.

Did I mention that I'm dying???

People that don't get sick often are the biggest babies when they do get sick. I'm terrible. My nephew J that lives with me has headed for the hills. Last night he was a sweetheart and made me something that resembled chicken noodle soup and went and bought me cold medicine. After hearing me wail for about the 100th time "I'm dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying" he had some "errands" to run and got the hell out of dodge.

The cold medicine is still sitting there, and I haven't caved and taken any yet. I can't stand taking medicine. No worries about me every becoming a drug addict, as I don't even like to take Tylenol.

I've gotten exactly 5 phone calls and 7 text pages from work today. Pleasantly surprisingly they haven't been about work, just people wanting to know if I'm ok. I guess when you have worked somewhere for 12 years and never missed a day people assume you are dying or something if you don't come in. Which I am. Dying. Did I mention that yet?

So my partner at work says he heard I was in an accident. My boss heard I was in the hospital. A couple of other people heard I was in a diabetic coma.

I have this whole adult Ferris Bueller episode going on in my head with people walking around with cans that say, "Save Kelly" instead of "Save Ferris." That would be fine and dandy except I am not at a Cubs game or one my of fav places on earth, the Chicago Art Museum. Nope, I am sitting here with my quilt and my box of kleenex and my tea with honey dying.

When enough is enough...

R and I have had to be secret squirrel about our pending photography trip because of her cousin Ki. I cannot take being around her for 10 minutes, much less going on another trip with her.

Ki is not shy. If she knew we were going, she'd be like, "I'M GOING TOO!", no invite needed. R is way to nice, and Ki takes advantage of this. So we'd be stuck with the psycho.

I do not use the term psycho losely. She really is. She choses to be in messed up relationships, is more anal retentive then any person I have ever met, and I think suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder.

The last trip R and I took was to visit my cousin B, who is a professional poker player. He was doing this tournament down in Tupelo, MS, and invite us and my parents down. R is situated in my family as a family member, as I am in hers. So we were both excited to go. Besides that, my cousin B gets the best of everything in these gambling establishments since he is considered a "high roller" or whatever, so free luxuries like massages and facials and a hotel room bigger then my house awaited us.

Ki found out we were going, and invited herself. At first I thought, no big deal, the more the merrier, all that jazz. This was about 4 months before the trip. The emails started almost immediately.

Let me just say this now. I hate planning shit. I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type girl. Those are always the best trips. So when I received an email 4 months before we were going demanding to know what I was bringing on the trip I got a bit annoyed.

Then she wanted to bring two friends. What the fuck? This chick, who doesn't have a dime to her name, was getting a free trip sans gas money and gambling money and now she wanted to bring more people. I told R she better put her foot down before I told her exactly what I thought of her. R put her in check, but she still pouted relentlessly about it and made passive aggressive (God I hate that phrase and I can't believe I'm using it) remarks about it.

I would say when all was said and done I received about 150 emails about the stupid trip before we were ready to go. She planned out every freakin' minute of our trip. About a week before the trip my brother found out he didn't have to work, so he was going to be joining us.

She flipped the fuck out. HER friends couldn't go because there wasn't that much room, but my brother was going???? I LOST it. I sent her an email (because I didn't trust myself to talk to her) about how this was a family trip to begin with, that MY cousin invited R, me and my bro to begin with, and if she didn't like it she should stay the fuck home.

That shut her up. Then began the battle of what car we would take. She wanted to take hers, but we were planning on taking R's because it gets such good gas mileage. I finally just caved in because I couldn't take it anymore.

We hadn't even left my block when I wanted to kill her, and we had like 480 or so miles to go. R and I had Starbucks and we were sitting in the back seat. Ki was driving and told us we could pull down the thingy in the middle because it had cup holders. Our purses were there, and other luggage was by our feet since Ki had packed enough for a damn month and took up most of the space in the trunk. We told her we didn't want to use it.

We went about oh 10 seconds when she mentioned it again. When we got to the stop light at the end of the street she mentioned it again. As we turned the corner she mentioned how we'd be more comfortable if we just could put our coffee down.

R slammed the thing down and asked if she'd shut up now. This is way out of R's personality, so it shut her up for about 20 miles.

Next was the scented garbage bags Ki had bought for the trip. If we just opened one up we could put our cups in them. Things wouldn't be so messy if we opened one up. I told R that if she opened one up I'd freakin' kill her in her sleep. I dug out the Ipod and turned it on full blast.

When I finally turned if off about 100 miles later she was still talking about the damn scented garbage bags. R was blaring music next to me, so she couldn't hear her. My poor bro, up in the front next to her, looked like he was about to jump out the window.

This type of shit continued all the way down there. By the time I got out of that car I was about to blow. Even R was about to blow, and she doesn't get upset about anything. Lucky for us, we found out something about Ki that day-she LOVED slot machines.

We were there for 3 days, and she had planned all these trips to places in Memphis. We didn't want to do any of that, as this was a trip to see my cousin and my parental units. It turns out she didn't do any of that because she spent her entire day gambling.

The next day she was whining that she wanted R to gamble with her because she just knew she would win if they both put in money and played together. R and I were tearing up the crap table, and had no desire to play slot machines. Off she went, pouting the whole way, to the area with the slots.

We found her that night rocking and crying in the hotel room. She had went through all her money she had brought. Now Ki is the most irresponsible person I know with money. She has filed bankrupcy twice, and was heavily in debt again. The only reason she got to go was because her parents had given her some money, and she blew it all.

By the time we were wrapping up the trip and saying our goodbyes, she had blown the money her parents gave her, her tax return check that she was planning on paying her parents back with, and all her rent/bill money for the month. She was a wreck.

She cried most of the way home, and she actually had the nerve to blame R and I because I hogged R and wouldn't let R gamble with her. She just KNEW she would have won if R and her had played together. This is how psycho she is.

After that trip from hell I had very little to do with Ki. R still does because she is nice and Ki is family. R's hubby hates Ki with a passion, but puts up with her because of R. I used to do this, but finally enough was enough....

Ki just sent me an email informing me that she is back with M, a guy that rooked her out of a $3,000 credit card cash advance about 2 years ago. He has three kids, and everytime him and his wife break up he goes to Ki. She watches the kids, pays his bills, and takes care of him until he gets back together with his wife.

I haven't responded to the email, as I try not to encourage her to speak to me. How can anyone be this messed up? How can anyone be this stupid?

I know most of you are probably thinking why doesn't she do therapy? The worst part is she DOES. She full well admits all her little problems and quirks, she just doesn't do anything to change them. It is annoying to know someone that totally admits there problems, but doesn't try to fix them. I think I'd rather know someone in denial, as it would be much less frustrating.

So I've decided that enough is enough with her and she is out of my life. I will be courteous when the occassions come up that I have to be around her, but I am so done it is not funny.

Now if R would grow a back bone and see how much unnecessary drama this queen puts in her life everything would be peachy. Unfortunately I don't see that happening anytime soon, as R is the most loyal person I know. I never thought loyalty could be a fault.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

I've been down-graded

A couple of posts for your viewing pleasure have been posted today. I try not to connect to the Internet when I am working or writing, because it creates to much of a distraction. What ends up happening is a bunch of posts saved on my hard drive until I get online.

Here's what's going on with me recently:

My Boy Toy has decided to downgrade me from Girl Toy to I-can't-stand-you-you-bitch- that-ripped-my-heart-out-of-my-chest-and-threw-it-away-like-a-piece-of-garbage. I decided he wasn't boyfriend material. My boyfriend material list is quite long, and one day I'll probably write some rambling post about it.

I have a four day weekend coming up in 8 days, and I can hardly wait. My friend R and I are taking off and going to this beautiful state park to take pics for two days, and the other two days I'm going to redecorate my kitchen.

I still haven't won the lottery, but then again, neither has anyone else. Since being hit on the head by the Powerball sign I am up 22 smack-a-roos. Not to shabby. It is up to $123 mil or something now. I can wait. I may be a millionaire right now, but my tickets are in my vehicle and I'm to tired to go get them.

That new Julianne Moore flick got a one elbow rating from my Dad, so it is a must-see. Mom loved it also, and she's the biggest horror/suspense buff I know.

Work is unbearable, as it is always hell when you launch a new line. I live there. Seriously. I don't do well with all work and no play. It is a good thing I excel at time management, or I'd have no assemblance of a life.

Wiping the footprints off the ceiling

I'm in the middle of a dilemma. You see, I have footprints that have been on my ceiling for 9 years, and I am debating about painting over them.

They are barely visible, but I know they are there. There are others that I need to think about before I paint over them, as they know they are there too.

It happened not long after I moved into my brand new house. Being the social butterfly that I am, I had to have a party to break the bitch in right.

People were teasing me that I was now a "grown up", knowing full well that that would aggravate the piss out of me. Long story short, I ended up doing a keg stand in my kitchen to prove I was still a kid at heart, hence the footprints on the ceiling.

The cirlce of soul mates and I see those footprints as our fading youth. We hold on to those footprints like an alcoholic hangs on a bottle of Jack. That night I was like "shit!" when I saw footprints on my brand new ceiling, but then it seemed kind of cool. Kind of like we are not getting "old" and we still have fun. So then and there we prayed to the ceiling footprints, and I vowed to never cover them up.

I am pretty sure that a vow after doing a keg stand, countless jello shots, and God only knows what else doesn't count.

I have threatened to cover them up before, because in 9 years I have painted my ceiling a few times. I always get cryptic messages on my answering machine when I threaten to do it like, "DUuuuuuuuuude be one with the footprints" "Don't do it!!" or "You are getting OLD if you cover those up."

So in the past we have meticulously taken a small brush around the fading footprints as not to cover them up but to make the ceiling match. I've decided to redo my kitchen as I have a four day weekend next weekend (whoo hoo!), so the subject has come up again.

It would make my Mom happy. Everytime she is over here she just shakes her head in that damn kids kind of way. I don't know how I feel about it. Why should I be the one to carry the torch of our youth? Footprint maintenance is not easy.

The last time I painted I was really going to do it. I had it set in my mind that they were gone. When I got to them, I just couldn't do it. So many fond memories are attached to those fading footprints.

So I'll probably sit here and bitch and swear I'm gonna do it only to chicken out. *sighs* One day I'll be able to let go, but just not yet.

My Cousin is No Longer Gay

How does this happen??? My Dad called me all upset because my cousin C is no longer gay. She showed up at their house with a man of all things.

It is not as if my Dad wishes gayness on people. In fact, he was one of the first to be shocked when C came out of the closet. He grew up in the South, and it has taken him a bit to become more...more...tolerant...Yeah, tolerant, that's the word.

When they moved down South to care for my ailing Grandparents, he found that most of the family had disowned her. Now my Dad may not be the most progressive thinker in the world, but there is one bond that means everything to him-blood. So as he put it, "Lesbian or not, she's still my niece dammit."

So he welcomed C and her lover M into his house, and into his heart. Soon he was learning about Gay culture, and he really, really loved M. M was butcher then butch, and they had a lot in common. They had a lot of things in common, as they were both "manly men" or whatever.

This is why he is so upset. He thought when you are gay, you are gay. He had welcomed M into the family and now she is gone.

Poor thing. At least he learned tolerance towards a different lifestyle.

Lonely life of the non-partisan

Everybody is talking politics with the big election coming up.

I have no candidate.

I usually don't.

I've never seen anyone that I would like to lead our country. I usually just vote for the lesser of the two evils, but this election I really don't like either evil.

Clinton probably came close to being a candidate I could really back. Before the Democrats whoop it up, he was closer to Republican thinking then Democrat I believe. When Democrats point to Clinton, it always makes me smirk, cuz the dude was a Repub in disguise.

Well, maybe not a Repub in disguise, but much more middle-of-the-road then your average Democrat.

Democrat's social programs turns me off. I come from a long line of hard workers. I know people who have been on some kind of government program their whole life. Yes, I think people need help. No, they should not make a career out of it.

Late term abortion makes me physically sick. To think of someone scrambling a child's brain so that it won't come out alive. I'm a preemie myself, so maybe that's why I'm so adament about his issue. When it is just a ball of cells I believe it is a woman's choice, but once it can breathe on it's own....It's murder.

We need a military. We need bombs. We need fighter jets. The world has always been hostile and always will. I view America like a celebrity-Everyone is just waiting for us to fall or to help us fall. We need to be protected.

On the other hand, tax cuts should not go to the rich. Didn't we learn all about trickle down eco with Regan? Didn't we learn it don't work?

We shouldn't leave this planet worse then we found it. Species of plants and animals are here for a reason. Future generations have the right to have clean air and water.

The government should stop buying up technology that would get rid of our need for oil. They should let these damn car companies use the technology they have (and I know they have it, I work for one) to eliminate the gasoine engine.

We shouldn't close down our borders because of a terrorist attack. What is that inscription on the Statue of Liberty? "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free." This is what America is all about. If you don't allow immigration, then most of the people wouldn't be here. I am half Cheroke Indian, so I guess I could stay. All the others can get the fuck out? I don't think so.

So those are my positions on the political "hot spots".

Yeah, I'm skitzo or something.

So I see Bush as a Bully and Kerry as a wimp. Bush is too passionate, and Kerry too wishy washy.

I have no candidate, and doubt I ever will...

So there you have it.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

The Fairies have won! Yay!

For anyone that has been following the battle between.the Fairies and the Gnome, the Fairies have won!!

I get to be a cute flower/garden fairy for Halloween w/my BFF, and her hubby gets to be the Gnome. This is going to be great. I didn't even have to threaten being KISS and wearing spandex this year. This is further proof that men can be taught...

The big bash is already planned for the 23 of October. My circle of soul mates and I extend with aquaintances for this bash. There are usually about 100 people at the Hallo party every year. As the cirle of soul mates are all very different in their own ways, this makes for a very ecclectic party.

P and M are very family oriented. They do all the things our parents did. Their kids go to CCD and church. Most weekends you will find them cheering at some kiddie sporting event, working on a school project, or just relaxing with their offspring.

H and J are the "cool" couple. No kids, no worries. J has a job most men would kill for, and H has a job where her boss is wrapped around her little finger. They have all the latest gadgets, and their clothes reflect all the latest trends.

My bro R and sis-in-law K are the money makers. They are the high pressure, high stress, high living couple. Each with their own business keeps them extremely busy, and they have two kids.

T and R (my best friend since 1st grade), are the "popular" couple. Laid back and easy going, they are the kind of people that put others at ease. While they aren't materialistically rich, they are very friend rich. Everyone wants to be around them because they are just decent and fun people.

Then there is me. I am the "single" one. The "I don't want to grow up" one. I'm the single version of the "popular couple", which takes on new meaning. While people may want to go out to dinner with T and R, they want to go whoop it up with me, as I still know where the hot spots are.

My "other" friends are way different then the cirle of soul mates. Ditto for the rest of the group. You throw a bunch of SAHM's, the Small Business Association, some down home folks, people likely to be in a garage band, and some Yuppie's for good measure and you can get kind of a picture of what this party is like.

It is great. It is like an all you can eat buffet of people.

Monday, September 27, 2004

The Lemon is leaving a sour taste in my mouth...

"It's just like buying a new car. You can change the oil, rotate the tires...You can do everything right and sometimes you still get a lemon"

kj4ever's Mother's response to how the hell did her oldest daughter get in our family.

This may sound harsh. The truth is usually harsh.

My sister is 8 years older then me. She was the little princess until I came along, and she did not like vying for the crown one bit. I am pretty sure she hated me at first site.

Needless to say, we did not have a good relationship growing up. You could not get two more different people if you tried. I have always been independent. My sister was clingy and insecure. She was also a huge whiner. Every day of my young life I can remember her bitching and moaning about something.

This person had THREE pairs of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and she only had TWO. Why wouldn't my parents buy her a brand NEW car. Hell, they didn't even offer to buy her a used car, but she always did shoot for the sky. She always wanted what other people had, and she was never willing to work for it.

There were daily fights at my house between my Mom and my sister. I don't know how my Mom didn't kill her. The woman is a saint. My sister was that kid who is always one step behind the popular crowd-A wanna be that never has any true friends because she was always spending her time trying to impress people that could care less about her.

She didn't fit in with the rest of us. My brother, who is three years older then me, and I were inseparable. To this day we are still the best of friends. We were both wildly independent, and were little mini moguls between paper routes, grass cutting, and snow shoveling.

I got a brand new car when I turned 16, but I paid for it...In cash...So did my brother, except he was better with money and got a Mustang. I settled for the Escort, but it was still mine. My sister bitches to this day that we both had cars when we were teenagers, but conveniently she leaves out the fact that we both paid for them ourselves.

Sometimes I think that perhaps my bro and I were that independent because we realized my Mom just didn't have anything left by the time she dealt with my sister on a daily basis. There was always a crisis, always a drama at home. When she went away to college when I was in 5th grade it was the best thing that ever happened.

That year was wonderful. Our household changed so dramatically it was like night and day. My parents were different people. There was no fighting. Everyone did there own thing and got along. When my sister asked if she could stay at college for the summer to take classes, there was no argument from the parental units.

So we had three really great years, and then my parents got a bombshell. My sister had eloped. They had met the guy once, and they totally despised him. The second bombshell came a month later-She was 4 months pregnant. You do the math.

Yes, people have kids out of wedlock or get prego before they get married all the time and it isn't a big deal. This was 20 years ago though, and my parents, especially my Father, were devastated.

Matters didn't improve when they found out that her new hubby had a job making minimum wage. They really didn't improve when they moved in with us. My Dad pulled some strings and got him a labor type job making decent money, and they finally moved out.

My sister proceeded to pop out three kids in a row. They are all a year or a little less than a year apart. Right now they are 19, 18, and 17. The 19 year old has lived with me for a year. The 18 year old is graduating from high school this year and already has her bedroom planned at my house. The 17 year old tells me I have a year and a half to buy a bigger house because I only have 3 bedrooms.

This could really turn into a long, rambling story here, but I'll make it quick with a listing of, as they call it at work, significant emotional events:

After youngest is born, it is discovered that bro-in-law likes to smack women around.

Sis moves back in with parents, I move out.

She brings all the bills with her when she moves in, as said bro-in-law disappears. She's about to lose her house, car, and has 4 credit cards.

Parents discuss with youngest child (me) and end up having to use said child's college fund to bail out sister.

Sister finishes college and gets good job.

Sister moves out with children.

Parents retire down south to help with ailing Grandparents.

I was only 20, but I did not want to live in the south. I stay. I take on horrible assembly job to pay bills and school.

Sister feels cheated by life and loves single status. Children stay mostly with their Aunt (me).

Sister's car breaks down. I buy her another one so she can get to work.

Children's Father is in and out of the early part of their lives. Out is better, as it is also discovered he likes to drink a bit too much. Sister uses this to get me to have kids most weekends. If I don't take them, they go to their Fathers, which upsets kids greatly.

Sister almost loses house for second time and I have to bail her out.

Boyfriend at the time begs me to move to LA with him to write scripts. I can't leave the kids. Just can't.

Sister's car breaks down again because she didn't take care of it. I give her my car and buy another for me.

School clothes, book fees, Santa Clause, Easter Bunny, and occasionally the tooth fairy are all responsibilities I held from 20 to now. She couldn't afford those things, but she always had everything she needed or wanted.

That's it in a nutshell. I have basically raised my sister's kids. Why am I dumping all this emotional bullshit on you poor, innocent, unsuspecting people?

Because I am mad as hell.

She has started calling me this week. As the children have grown to almost adults, the contact I have with my sister is minimal. Yes, we still see each other at holidays and family functions and stuff. She can really be very cool when she wants to be.

The problem is when she starts calling me she needs something. She's being very sweet too, and this scares the shit out of me. It must be big. My niece (the 18 year old) called me and said something about her Mom saying she was selling the house.

Now I know of two times she has said that, and one time it cost my parents big money, and one time it cost me big money.

When do you say enough is enough?? The youngest, much to my horror, was shipped off to his Father's house. My niece could move in with me just a bit early I suppose. It is not in my nature to turn my back on blood, no matter what has transpired in the past.

My God though...I have spent my entire young adult life cleaning up her fuck ups and raising her kids. My dreams were put on hold while she was out having a blast. I just don't think I can do it.

I'm mad at my parents for leaving me with all this crap. I look at my nephew that lives with me. My God, he is just a bit younger then I was when I was totally taking care of myself and my sister and my sister's kids. My parents really did need to take care of my Grandparents, and they didn't just pack up in the middle of the night and leave me...I had a choice.

Is it wrong to wonder what would have happened if I had chose different? If I would have said fuck it and moved and went to school like a normal freakin' kid? To wonder what I would have done with my life if I hadn't taken on a responsibility no 20 year old should have to endure?

Wondering is one thing, but I do not regret. My nephews and niece give me hope for the future. They are great kids, despite all they have been through. They will lead wonderful lives....

I still get angry about it though. Angry at what could have been or should have been...

Saturday, September 25, 2004

I just wanted to say....

I have to work all night tonight...Until 5:00 am...

I shall update through the night, and I must warn you, I may get a bit slap happy...

Thanks to I'm using their graphics tonight. Well, I don't think it counts as stealing because they do not have any terms of use up, so I figure a link is good. I even put a perma link on the side. So if anyone from has a problem with this, let me know and I'll remove immediately. Thanks.

6:36 PM

Tonight I was supposed to and and , but all I'm going to do is

7:07 pm

I had to relocated because of a mouse sighting. I as fast as I could to a location with more noise. Being in a factory at night without commotion is not a good thing.

Being by more people is a bad thing though because I will got lots of questions that will make me

I'll try to just

9:43 pm

So I'm trying to get some done, but being visible is not a good thing.

I had one person who's puter wouldn't work, and it turned out the monitor was just shut off. It made me want to or maybe

10:55 pm

Some friends of mine (or should I say USED to be friends, I'm getting more and more over here) just called my cell to inform me of what a good time they are having which made me want to



So this guy comes into my lab office and but he really was trying to and I don't with anyone from work because that leads to

Will it ever end?


I finally got rid of and my friends called and they were and and and they wished I was there...I wanted to


They have wrapped things up earlier then expected, so I am and I am getting ready to hit the


I am now in the safety of my own home. I'm going to and and get into

I feel like I just survived the

Oh yeah, and I get to get up and do it again tomorrow.

Friday, September 24, 2004

Let the Christmas Season Begin!

Ahhh yes, you got to love it when you see Christmas stuff up before Halloween.

Actually, I do love it. My family and I are the most celebrating Mother ef'ers you have ever met.

While growing up I was taught to celebrate anything I could whenever I could. My parents used to have huge Flag Day parties, Arbor Day parties, you name it. There were always people and music and food in our house.

When I turned 30, it took a month to celebrate my birthday. First, my parents came up from their home down south to throw the Mother of all 30th birthday parties for me. It was like a freakin' wedding, and a total surprise. 200 of my closest friends were there, and people still talk about it even though it has been 3 years since I hit that magical number.

The next celebration was a girl's night out with my girlfriends. That cannot be spoken about, because it was just a bit, uh , wild. We are sworn to secrecy about that night...Hell of a good time though.

Then I had a week in California with my then current boyfriend. He took me to the Pier in San Fran for Salmon, hiking in Yosemite, partying and skiing in Tahoe. We started to swing by LA, but as I saw it on the horizon it just looked nasty so we turned around and jumped a plane in San Fran to Reno. It was a great week, to say the least.

So I got back from my birthday week in Cali and my bro and sis had another smaller, intimate party for me. This was the one with my best of friends.

I am born a week before Christmas, so my family has always taken great pains to make my birthday special. When I took off to my parents for the Christmas holidays, they had ANOTHER party for me down there with relatives.

Phew. That was quite a month. Usually it takes at least a week to decently celebrate a birthday in my family, but milestones get a bit more special coverage.

Christmas being the Holy Grail of holidays, we go all out big time.

I bring this up not because of the decorations in the store, but because my Christmas shopping season officially began today. I found a cheerleading outfit from 1958 from my Mother's school. She was a cheerleader that year, so I snatched it up. She can probably still fit in it too....

She is going to freak out when she opens it. We go to great lengths when buying presents. Maybe it is that competitiveness we all seem to have, because my brother, sister, parents, and I all search forever trying to find that gift that will make the person scream with delight.

I know that the gift cards that look like credit cards are all the rage right now, but I just can't bring myself to buy those for people. The time and energy spent looking for that one thing that someone will love means just as much to me as what I open.

When I was just a lil pup, Christmas was a wirl wind of events. My parents used to have two Christmas parties on top of actual Christmas day. They had a big bash for the people my Father worked with, and then another for the people my Mom worked with. Christmas day was another story all in itself.

Christmas Eve, until I was 7, was spent at a toy auction with my Grandmother. She would bid and win whatever we wanted. At the end they'd throw everything together that was left and start the bidding. She would bid and bid and we'd get so excited, but she would quit just before the person bidding with her did. She never had any intention of winning that last auction, as it was usually junk, but I think she loved seeing us root her on and getting so excited.

Christmas morning....Well, we never really made it to Christmas morning. My Dad just couldn't stand it, so he would put on a pair of boots and run through the house shaking bells, as I learned as an adult, and then he'd start screaming, "Santa was here!!! Let's open presents!"

This was usually about 2 am. It is funny because my Mom looks so dead in the pictures we have of us opening presents. You know she just wanted to kill him, as I'm sure she had been wrapping present up to that point, considering we had to work our way from the edge of our big living room in because there were so many.

It was the only time of year that we were spoiled materialistically like that. My Father had grew up dirt poor, and he was a big believer in us children working for want we want. His best Christmas as a child? One year he and his 5 siblings all got an orange.

My best Christmas as a child. God, I remember it like it was yesterday. We heard "santa" running through the house, and I laid there with my eyes squeezed shut tight, until my Father yelled, "Let's open presents." I jumped out of bed and ran towards the living room with my bro.

There they were. A shiny yellow one and a shiny red one. My brother and I had been shoveling driveways for a month trying to buy one, as my parents said Santa probably wouldn't bring that because it was to expensive. They were Kick-n-Go's. I don't know if anyone remembers them, because I think they were taken off the market as kids were being seriously injured on them.

It was a scooter, but it has a thing on the back you could kick that worked like a bicycle peddle. It propelled you as fast as you wanted to go, hence the recall. I just remember standing there next to my brother with my mouth on the floor. The next thing I remember is riding these damn things in the snow in Pj's and snow boots in the snow at 3:00 am. That was the best present I had ever got, and I have had some incredible ones since then, but I don't ever remember having that feeling of exhiliration since. I think I was 5 or 6.

I found out as an adult why we got them. My Dad used to take us Christmas shopping for our Mom about a week before Christmas. My bro and I decided to use our Kick-n-Go fund to buy my Mom this Fondue set she wanted. It is funny, because I don't even remember it, but my Dad says it is one of the times when he was most proud of us.

He went and bought the Kick-n-Go's for us as soon as he deposited us back home. I guess my Mom was mad as a hatter, but he told her she would understand why later.

So I guess all of this is why I don't mind the Christmas stuff going up early. I know people say Christmas is over commercialized and all that, and they are right. Hasn't it always been though? How many people would be happy with a "traditional christmas" as my Father calls it of getting an orange?

My Alter Ego Bites me in the Ass

I got an email from someone who found this site that knows me from a gig I did for awhile for a local rag. He asks:

Why aren't you working there anymore? I miss your columns.

That question in itself could take me a week to answer, so I'll give you the short, well relatively short version.

I wrote a column and did the website for an entertainment rock n roll type magazine for about 5 years. It was one of those local rags, and only had about 40,000 readers. We are not talking Rolling Stone.

When I first met the slimeball owner, he was wanting to take the mag into the new millenium. They had a website, but it sucked. I had a job that didn't fullfill my creative side, and I liked the idea of filling my portfolio with a lot of published articles.

This man may well be one of the most hypnotic people I have ever met. I say that because he could sell a freakin' generator to an Omish person. If you haven't noticed, I am a very strong willed individual.

He talked me into being the "babe of the month" during my column's debut month. This is totally out of character for me, but he had all these plans about me being the "webmistress" and all that junk. Hell, it was a rock n roll mag, so I said what the hell?

I'll admit a small part of my ego loved seeing myself in that centerfold position. What girl wouldn't? Even though it went against everything that I was, I have to be honest and admit at the time that it was kind of flattering to be 27 and holding a position that most 19 year old wanna be models usually held.

No, I wasn't nekkid. He had already whipped up this "image" of me being the sexy, hard core webmistress without me even realizing it. Wearing this little leather top and mini with boots that went up to there, I looked every bit the part.

It went in a downward spiral from there. Whenever they had events for the mag, I was supposed to make appearances. Not as myself, but as the "webmistress". The whole image thing got really out of hand, and I do not for the life of me understand how people that create a character of theirself live with this on a daily basis.

Even though it was a small mag, a 40,000 person readership is nothing to sneeze at. It was mostly testosterone filled boys/men, and being the "webmistress" got real old, real fast. The one thing that I took out of this experience is that I would never, ever want to be a celebrity. Ever.

The main reason I like writing is because what you look like is of no consequence to what is put down on the page. In the position I was in, it did. My column was about the Internet, and chief slimeball in charge always wanted me to write about "sexy" things.

The last straw for me was when he edited my column and recommended a couple of pornographic sites. When the mag came out that month I was horrified. He had asked me to include them because a friend of his had started them. I outright refused because this was not something I would recommend to anyone, anytime.

I called and quit on the spot. The next month a big ad appeared in the magazine for a new web person. I, it seems, had gone on to bigger and better webmistress things, and I was very grateful for this rag giving me my start. Whatever.

It was a year ago that I quit, and every once in awhile I still get the random guy stopping me and asking about the "webmistress". Hell, an email asking me about it to this blog is what started this long, rambling mess of a post.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

I am more screwed up then I thought...

I just took this "which political party are you" test.

This is how I scored:

3 Green Party

3 Republican Party

1 Libertarian

Is this even fucking possible? How can someone be about half Green and half Republican?

Someone grab the straight jacket, cuz I am more skitzo then I thought...

Monday, September 20, 2004

Lovers vs. the Love'ees

When people fall in love they each take a roll. One is the Lover, and one is the Love'ee, or at least that is my take on it.

The Lover is just head over heals for this other person and can't get enough. Sure the Love'ee has kind and romantic feelings for the Lover, but their feelings and passion don't quite match up to the intensity of the Lover. Love'ees put up with the Lovers because of their fondness and love for them, even though it can get to be a bit much at times.

I have been the love'ee several times in my adult life, and the Lover once. Being the Lover, in my opinion, sucks major ass.

His name was P, and I met him from the Internet. I know, I know Red Light! right? I swore I would never do that, but he lived close to me and technically I met him briefly before talking to him on the Internet. He was at a function for a magazine that I used to write for, and he ended up emailing me from the website of that magazine. We got to "know" each other on the Internet.

At first, he wasn't the type of guy that I would find attractive. He was balding a bit, wasn't exactly physically fit, and was very pale. This paints a pretty picture, eh? What he lacked in the looks department, he made up for in the personality and intellect department three fold.

He kind of snuck up on me through the emails and IM sessions. By the time we starting doing "friend" things IRL (in real life *rolls eyes*) I was already smitten.

P had all kinds of ideas and dreams and we had long discussions about a million different things. He wasn't doing well in the financial department, but he had great ambitions (which payed off later big time). Ambition in a man and a man that goes for what he wants are the two most attractive qualities to me. Looks have never been all that important to me, and this guy was knocking my socks off with his wit and charm.

By the time we started seeing each other romantically I was hooked. Oh, he cared about me, but I don't think he was ever really comfortable with the relationship. He used to talk about how love was just chemicals and all that before we started dating. Unfortunately I found out this was true once we started dating.

After dating about 4 months, he informed me he was going snowboarding for the weekend with some buddies. Being the low maintenance kind of chick that I am, I started planning my first free weekend in some time with friends.

I always had this nagging feeling about him. I knew I was the Lover, but I didn't want to admit it. That has got to be the worst feeling in the world-insecurity, and I have felt that few times in my life. Yeah, I'm a bitch.

So Sunday night came and went with no word from P. I called his house around 9 pm because I wanted to make sure he got home ok. No answer. I went to bed feeling just a bit worried that something had happened.

Work came and went on Monday and still no word from P. You have to realize, this is someone I had spent a great deal of time with for about 6 months. I'm not the kind of chick you have to call everyday, but it would have been nice to know he was ok. What was really starting to worry me was I even said on his machine, "Call me and let me know you got home ok."

I really started to worry on Tuesday, so what did I do? I went psycho chick. I called his house like 5 times that day from work. I did a drive-by when I got off work. No, not with a gun, but when you drive-by someone's house to see if they are there. He wasn't. He had a dog, and I started worrying about it being left alone in the townhouse for all that time. He had never said what he was doing with the dog while he was away. I decided to take a look in his patio doors to see if the dog was in there. I was walking up to the door, I saw his landlord. When I asked him about P, he said, "Yeah, he just left. You two get in a fight or something?"

I was livid. LIVID.

Did I say I was LIVID? Because I was. LIVID.

Right then and there I went from being the Lover to the Dumper. I walked away from that damn townhouse bound and determined never to speak to that man again. Of course this didn't happen, as he called me the next weekend to "explain."

His "explanation" was that he was confused about the relationship and needed time to think. That's find and dandy dude, but he could of told me so that I didn't have visions of him tumbling down a big mountain breaking every bone in his body, which him laying helpless at the bottom dying a slow, miserable death.

I have a unique and probably not so good quality of going from love to I-don't-give-a-shit-about-you in record time. It was to late for P. I was no longer the Lover, and basically I had lost my trust and respect in him. When I lose trust, it is over, finshed, caput or however the hell you spell it.

Funny thing was, once I was no longer the Lover, he decided he couldn't live without me. He turned into the Lover big time, and stalked my ass relentlessly until I threatened a restraining order.

Is this why I am usually the Love'ee? I'm more of a realist when it comes to love and really just about everything in life. I don't need to hang on people or be with them 24/7. Does this turn people into the Lover?

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Why is it...

that some people can be hateful or mean and get away with it, while others just can't. I do not understand it. Maybe someone can explain it to me.

Here's an example of what I'm talking about. I had this friend in my early 20's. C was extremely skinny, and very self conscious about it. She drank protein shakes and ate more then most men I know, but she had just been just plain boney all her life. She is about 5'10 and had the body of a 10 year old skinny boy.

I, on the other hand, have the body of a healthy 10 year old boy with breast implants. No, I do not have implants, I'm au-natural, but usually people with small hips and butt do not have big breasts.

We were both friends with this girl T. T had a big weight problem. She wasn't chubby, she was obese. She used to make comments to C all the time like, "God you can see your ribs, why don't you eat more," or "you look like Olive Oil." Her favorite sayings to me was, "Haven't you ever thought of a breast reduction? You look so fake," or "You look like a girl in a porno."

Now if one of us said, "Hey T, why don't you get off your fat ass and lose weight," we would have been the meanest people on the face of the Earth. C did actually shoot back with a "why don't you eat less?" once when she asked her "why don't you eat more?" T about had a nervous breakdown over that one, and she got a lot of sympathy from mutual friends over it.

C had just had it with her little jabs and finally spoke up. She was chastised for it, and I don't understand why people didn't see that what T was saying was just as mean. It was just as mean, as C was just as sensitive about her "weight problem" as T was. In fact, it was even worse for C because short of carrying around an IV full of calories, she could not do anything about her situation.

The reason I brought this up is because we had my neice's birthday this weekend. It is a mixture of the two families, which is night and day. It is like the rednecks meet the upwardly mobile professionals.

One of her Aunts on her Mother's side has a big problem with me. I always take the nieces and nephews out for the day for their birthday. We do lunch, shop, whatever they want. They get $100 for the day, and they can spend it doing/buying whatever they want. This year we went to a Build a Bear place and made teddy bears. She absolutely loved it, and actually, I did too.

So to say the neices and nephews are a bit spoiled would be an understatement. I do not have any children, and I do quite well for myself. I have spent the last 15 years scratching and crawling and fighting to be where I am now, and I enjoy my success. I enjoy spoiling the children, even with the devil's spawn otherwise known as my brother's children, who aren't near as bad when they are with just me because they know they can't get away with the shit they pull on their Mom.

Their Aunts are their Mom's side of the family are like welfare people. Well, they aren't like welfare people, they are welfare people and have been their entire adult lives. Neither one of them graduated high school, and they have made a career off of living off the hard earned tax dollars of productive citizens.

Before any of you tree huggers write in or email me about welfare, let me just say this. I know that people need help sometimes, but they do not need it when they are totally physically capable of working and have been in the system for 15-20 years. *steps off soap box*

Their Aunt D is totally cool, even though it ticks me off that she has never had a job, and that her Mom gives her money for her food stamps so that she can buy cigarettes. Their Aunt T is the one that seems to have this jealous streak for me.

Every year the children display what they got/did for their birthday day, and every year Aunt T says something shitty. Last year she said something to the effect of "Well, Aunt Kelly can buy all that stuff because she chose to have a career instead of a family. She'll pay for it when she's old and alone."

Now her saying this did not get to me, but the fact that she was trying to get to me got to me, if that makes any sense. My smart ass mouth opened before my brain could think and I said, "Someone's gotta pay taxes to pay your bills."

Opps..Did I really say that out loud? You bet your sweet ass I did.

Hence WWIII was started. Aunt T was humiliated, and left in a crying fit/rage. Sis-in-law was none to happy with me. Bro totally understood but was none to happy with me because of the fallout he would receive from said sis-in-law. Sister thought it was totally hilarious, and the rest of sis-in-law's family that didn't storm out with said welfare bitch were looking at me like I was a mix between Osama Bin Laden, the boogie man, and the Hey Koolaide! guy. Ok, I added the Hey Koolaide guy because he has always totally creeped me out.

So why didn't everyone get in an uproar when she said what she said to me? Why wasn't she Osama Bin Laden, the boogie man, and the Hey Koolaide! guy? Is it because I didn't cry? Is it because I didn't give anyone a chance and stood up for myself?

I don't get it. Like I said before, maybe someone can explain it to me. This year as the lil neice proudly showed off her new bear Summer in it's little pj's and slippers, Aunt T said, "Well that's from you SINGLE Aunt. When you don't have a family you can spend more money."

Bitch obviously doesn't learn, and I decided I'm not going to be the one to teach her and kept my trap shut. Man did I want to say something, but I didn't. She did tone it down a bit I guess, so maybe I taught her a little lesson.

*Side Notes*

Tad Bitter: In answer to your comment from a previous post, I'm not sure what the end to that story is yet. I'm quite sure we will not be knocking boots much longer, as he wants to be upgraded from "friends with benefits" to "boyfriend", and he does not meet my requirements for boyfriend material.

Thank you Patrick for informing me that I am now classified a

domestic terrorist under the new Patriot Act. I'll have to remember to update my resume with that one.

Friday, September 17, 2004

A quick note...

I'm alive and well, just busy. I did in fact win the Lottery on Wednesday. I won $7 for my dollar investment. No one won the big pot, so I guess the fates want me to win more then 72 million. I plan on answering new comments and putting up a couple of already written posts this weekend.

Have a good one...

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Die Joke Emails! Die!

Everyone has that one friend that just won't let up. That friend that forwards every damn email they get. The "If you are my friend you will send this to everyone and send it back to me!" emails. The jokes you have seen a million times with the dubious endings of how you will face certain death if you do not forward them to the 50 people in your address book.

My friend that does this is Ki. I've actually added her to my junk email list, so that all her emails go to the junk folder. I've actually TOLD her this. She just laughs. Hellooooooooo? Why do these people not see how annoying this is, especially since people tell them, "HEY this is ANNOYING??"

I haven't projectile vomitted today, but I'm still feeling a little woozy. I'm going into work a little bit later today, so I decided I better check my junk email folder. Every once in awhile she sends an actual email that I need to read.

She did actually send me an email that didn't contain any jokes, bunnies, hearts, patroit pictures, or funny pictures of animals or babies. She wanted to know what T, R and I are going to be for Halloween, and she promised she wouldn't tell anyone. Yeah, like I'd trust someone who would fill up my Inbox with pictures of Saddam Hussein riding a patroit missle on a daily basis. Halloween is very secret squirrel around these parts...

There was one in there that I had seen forwarded around by people, so I decided to take a look. It was a Q&A about yourself. I decided to answer it, but I took her off the forward list as I don't want to encourage her. Here, my 2 readers, are my answers:

1. What is your favorite color? Pink

2. If you could be an animal, what kind of animal would you be? A bird

3. Why would you be said animal? Flying south for the winter would rock, and I could crap on stupid people's cars.

4. Lefty or Righty? Amidextrious...Why oh why do people always forget about us?

5. Have you ever loved someone so much it made you cry? Go ahead, rub it in...

6. Paper or plastic? You mean the choice you get at that big building? With the carts and all the food?

7. If you were stranded on a desert island, what one thing would you bring? An army ranger, or some other form of special forces dude. They know how to do everything with that wilderness crap. Hey, I'm a realist.

8. What color is your kitchen? Yellow, and the day after I painted it I read an article that says yellow kitchens are known to lead people to suicide. Someone pass the Prozac, please.

9. Do you use an alarm clock? Depends. When I work days I have 3 of them. Not a morning person. Grrrowl.

10. Coffee, Cappuccino, or energy drink? I'd mainline anything with caffeine in it.

11. Favorite cereal? Pre-diabetic days Coco Pebbles or Captain Crunch. Now, anything that gives me the nutrients to support life, since all the fun cereals are a no-no.

12. Weirdest place you've had sex? A telephone booth. I was young and a lot of tequila, diamond earings, and a sexy man were involved.

13. How tall are you? 5'8

14. Do you wish you were taller/shorter? Nope

15. How many wireless devices do you have? <2 Cell phones, text pager, Palm Pilot. I know, I know...I'm way over accessorized, but half of those are for work.

16. Do you talk in your sleep. Constantly, or so I've been told. I never shut the fuck up.

17. First Kiss? At the top of a tornado slide. No wonder I have an unnatural dose of romanticsim or however the hell you spell it.

18. Do you ever sleep naked? Always

There were a lot more, but I'm sick and I'm getting tired of typing html tags. Reminds me to much of being at work. So there you go, more information, or too much information if you will, about me. Anyone care to answer these?

Monday, September 13, 2004

My cheating heart...

I'm still sick here, so I could use some help. My friends and I have a "who can find the weirdest junk on Ebay" contest, and I'm failing miserably this time.

The last contest my Jesus Christ action figure got the snot beat out of it by some demented chick's toe nails that sold for 25 cents.

You don't necessarily have to tell me where something is, just maybe something I can search? Please?

If it isn't bad enough that I lost the Golden Swine award last month, I'm not doing so well on this Ebay thing. The Golden Swine contest is totally not fair anyway. We go to this all you can eat crab leg place, and they almost start crying when the 9 of us walk in the door. I'm diabetic man. I can't over eat like that, so I shall never get to wear the crown.

I'm going to win the lottery on Wednesday!

My Mom is one of those new-agey type people, and she always says, "Envision it and it will happen!" So I'm going to win the lottery on Wednesday...

I only worked 4 hours today because I seem to have contracted a wicked case of the stomach flu. My boss took one look at me and told me to get out as soon as I could. I must look really bad, because I could be bleeding out my eyes and they wouldn't want me to go home.

So I stopped at a little Mom and Pop store to look for some medicine. I hate taking Tylenol, so actively looking for medicine is a big deal. I'm really siiiiiiiiiiiiick...I'm also a big baby when I'm sick. I'll try not to whine too much here...

When I was paying for my Pepto Pink crap from hell (I had forgotten that it tastes like ass), the Powerball sign fell over and hit me in the head. Hell, if that isn't a sign, I don't know what is. I bought $1 worth of tickets, which is, one.

I know, I know, that doesn't seem like much. Your odds only go up if you buy like 100,000 or something like that. It's not that I'm not a gambler, it is in my blood big time. I have two professional poker players in my family, some of which you may have seen on Bravo. I can remember learning how to play poker when I was 4 with those little jelly fish, much to my Mother's mortification. A real gambler knows their odds though, so buying more then one would be frivolous.

So I drove home all excited because I am going to win 72 million dollars in 2 days. Then I thought, holy crap! 72 million, or a 39.2 million one time payout is a lot of money. I better figure out how I'm going to spend it. So once I had downed the pink crap from hell, threw it up (I know, too much info), and wrapped up in my favorite blankie (told you, big baby), I thought of what I would do with my 72 million dollars.

I would figure out how much it would take to get T to dress up like a Gnome for Halloween.

I would obviously take care of family and friends, because it would be boring to be the only one who didn't have to work, and cuz I wuvs them. awwww... I couldn't do this until aforementioned T agreed to be a Gnome.

Since we wouldn't have to work, we would need something to keep us out of trouble. Since it wasn't all that long ago that we were arrested, keeping ourselves busy wouldn't be a bad idea. I definitely would give money to all my fav charities, but I think I would start one myself.

I've always been active in charity, as it was a big thing in our family growing up. I was taught early to give to those who weren't as blessed. Anyway, I think I would want to start something for battered women. That is something that has unfortunately touched my life quite personally, and a lot of people don't have a support system like my sister did to get away. We could do a lot of good, and keep ourselves out of jail!!

I almost get stumped here. Yeah, I probably buy a nicer home. As far as vehicles go, I like what I have now, and really don't have any desire to drive anything else. I've never been a big materialistic type person. I like nice stuff, don't get my wrong, but I've never been one to worry about if my stuff was nicer then the person sitting next to me.

I would probably spend the rest of the money traveling. I'm a nomad at heart, and hell if I could swing it I probably wouldn't even have a home. I'd crash at said friends and families houses when I wasn't living in some hotel. I have a talent for being able to sleep anywhere, anytime. If I slow down, I sleep.

Besides being able to help family, friends, and charitable organizations, it would just be mad cool to be able to never have an alarm clock again. I think that would be the biggest plus for me personally. Having money would mean that I wouldn't have to worry about money, thus never need an alarm clock. I could write and write and read and read. Wouldn't that be the life? Especially if it was on some tropical beach in January without any of the cold, bitter Chicago snow.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

Booty Calls are a pain in the (_|_)

So what could have been a nice leisurely afternoon with a young hot male turned into a "date". Blah.

By young I mean 25, which is considerably younger then I, 33. Don't worry, I'm not out rocking the local high school.

He is my first experience with what some might call a booty call. You see, I am extremely picky about who touches me. I've never had casual sex, or a one night stand. I was a strict relationship girl until Mr. 25.

The last relationship I had moved 3,000 miles away to California. That was 2 years ago, and we tried like hell to keep it alive for a year. After that ended, I just didn't want to date. I had a steady boyfriend for most of my adult life, and I really needed time to heal from the previous relationship.

I met Mr. 25 and we became pretty decent friends. He was interesting to hang out with, and we always enjoyed each other's company. A few tequila shots, a couple of beers, and a night when my nephew was away turned our relationship into something else about 3 months ago.

Thank God we were close enough to discuss the situation once we sobered up a bit. neither one of us wanted a "relationship" per say, but hey, the sex was amazing...So I ventured into my first unattached sexual relationship, and man was it great.

I'm very independent. I do not need to see someone everyday. I do not need to talk to someone everyday. I need alone time. I like my space. Did I just discover that a non-relationship was the perfect relationship for me? It's not like I'm being a big ho because it's with the same guy, right?

So he comes over today and wants to go to a movie. A movie?? Ok, I can be flexible outside of yoga moves so we head to the theater and see "Paparrazi" (good flick, by the way). We head back to his house, and do some umm other things.....

That's when it started. What I perceive to be the downfill of my perfect non-relationship. He wanted to "talk". Talk about where we were going, what we were doing. Hell, I thought we were going nowhere and what we were doing was having great sex?? He didn't find this funny.

Karma bites me in the arse...

Annie said yesterday in her comment that she was inspired by my biiatching to write about differences in families.

I am warning you now Annie...Be afraid...Be very afraid...

A lot of times when I post things they were written over the course of a week or so, and when I get time I throw them online. I had written the DNA post awhile ago, and I debated over whether I should post it. Well I did yesterday, and now karma has come back to bite me in the ass...

I mean, it is pretty harsh. If anyone read it that knows me wouldn't be all that shocked by it, including my sis-in-law. Believe me, we've had plenty of discussions on that area. Sometimes she'll start lamenting that she has no control over her own children, but she doesn't do anything to remedy the situation. Don't worry, she's called me an over-bearing bitch many times. It's just the kind of relationship we have.

I think I am so programmed to be "PC" from work that I second guessed putting it up for the world to see. I have a post about that PC world coming soon, it's written and just needs uploaded. This blog kind of serves as that outlet for all that is un-pc, so I decided what the hell? I'd throw it up.

To make a long story longer, I was driving home from work last night happy as hell. I actually had the day off today!! I had managed to avoid anyone who would want me to work, mission impossible style. I debated over what I would do with a night when I didn't have to wake up early in the morning, and a certain hot young man I've been seeing came to mind.

Before I could do any dialing, my brother called my cell. There was a function they needed to attend for his business, and her sister had backed out of babysitting. You have to realize that when they call me to babysit, it is the absolute last resort. If they could get someone from prison on work-release to babysit they'd probably try that Ok, that might be stretching it a bit much, but you get the idea.

All the visions of what I would do with a certain hot young man until the wee hours of the morning came to a crashing halt. Dammit, dammit, dammit...I begrudingly say ok, because I would do anything for my brother.

So I go home, pick up a bunch of art supplies to keep the devil's spawn entertained, and head over to my brother's house. The 4th grader starts crying and soon as I enter the front door. "Aunt Kelly is meeeeeeeean," she wails. It takes every ounce of reserve to not choke the child.

My sister-in-law does her little aww it's going to be ok voice and tells her not to talk to me like that. Real effective, let me tell ya. My brother walks in the room, and hearing what my sister-in-law just said demands to know what the devil's spawn said. "Nothing," replies my sis-in-law. Now I'm fighting the urge to choke her.

You have to understand here, that I am like Aunt of the year. Not to blow my own bugle or anything, but I excel as an Aunt. My sister's kids practically live with me (one actually does), and I'm very involved in their lives. They know how to act, though.

So they leave. I pull out the art supplies and we begin making all kinds of drawings and paintings. The first 2 hours go by with barely a glinch.

We put everything away and admire our work. The oldest K is really talented. She is going into 6th grade this year, and I am actually really impressed with her work.

Now comes the worst part of babysitting them. Snack time. My sis-in-law had bought a carton of vanilla ice cream. I go and get two bowls, and give them a couple of scoops. They immediately begin to whine that they want DOUBLE that. Uh huh, no way.

The oldest seems to catch on a bit faster then the younger one, knowing that certain punishment will follow if she doesn't shut her trap. The younger one continues to whine, and actually starts to cry (cry! over a bowl of ice cream!)

I tell her if she continues to cry, I'll give her something to cry about. I hate it when I sound like my parents...Anyway, I tell her that if she doesn't stop immediately, I'll take away what she DOES have. This seems to work. *phew*

Now they want to watch TV. These children have to be constantly entertained. So we go see what's on. Ahh, the youngest has the remote control, and "I know what you did last summer" is on. She flips the channel.

I tell her she's not allowed to watch R rated movies. She informs me that she is when her Father isn't home. Really? I inform her that I'm representing her Father, and she is not watching that. She has a death grip on the remote control, and I begin counting to 100 in my head so that I don't wind up in jail.

I finally lose it and yell at her to give me the damn remote. She proceeds to throw it at the TV and it busts into a million peices. Breathe, just breathe...

I send her to her room. For a minute there, she looks like she's not going to go. God, please let her go...She starts up the stairs, gets about half way up, turns around and asks, "Can I come out now?"

"You didn't even make it up there yet!" My voice booms across the room. The oldest just shakes her head and says, "She ought to know she can't get away with that stuff with you here." Indeed.

So she is up there screaming and carrying on and yelling that she wants out. After about 10 minutes it gets quiet. This worries me, since these children never let up until they get their way. Oh, I found out why she was quiet alright. She had left her room and went to my bro's and was watching that damn movie.

I led her by the arm to the guest bedroom downstairs. She was really wailing then. It was the closest I have ever come to hitting a child. I managed to keep my cool, as she screamed and cried for an hour straight. She finally gave up.

My bro and sis-in-law came home a couple of hours later, and the damianette came running out of the spare bedroom bawling her eyes out. My brother asked me what happened. As I was explaining what happened the monster was telling my sis-in-law that I hurt her arm, and that I barely gave her more then a spoonful of ice cream.

"I'll get you some ice cream, baby," she said and proceeded to get the little brat a huge bowl of ice cream. This would explain their weight problems. My brother was livid. "Did you hear what she did?" he yelled at my sis-in-law. "She's upset, yelling is not going to help this matter," she said as she glared at me.

I knew a big one was on the way, so I grabbed my shit and bolted. My brother ran out to the car and appologized. What could I say? He looked so helpless standing there. I know this stuff has got to just kill him, because he was not raised like this at all. He tries, but all he is made out to be in the bad guy. It also doesn't work when children are only disciplined half of the time, and they can go running to "mommy" and get out of it.

My sis-in-law did call and appologize to me today. She just can't stand seeing the children upset. Whatever. I explained to her that she's only hurting them. She half heartedly agrees, and hangs up. How these children will ever function in society is beyond me. At least the oldest seems to know boundaries.

I just hope my brother realizes after this not to ask me to babysit. It is a sad situation, but I am just plain tired of all of this.

Enough of that. I'm going to concentrate on what I can do to a certain hot young man this afternoon....

Saturday, September 11, 2004

A note on FFS

I discovered an interesting thing about the title of my blog. While FFS is a code at work to say things that can't be said since the Mother Ship was sued to the high heavens, it appears it also means facial feminization surgery.

That could lead to some interesting readers.

Battle of the DNA

I am always amazed at how people get married and blend two different ways of thinking into a new family, especially when they come from extremely different backgrounds.

We have a current battle between our DNA and my sis-in-law's DNA. I do not understand her side of the family. I can't even fathom how she was raised.

In my family, the worst thing you could ever do was lie. Education was a must, and loyalty meant everything. We were not coddled, and if we wanted extras we had to work for it. Three sayings are ingrained in my brain from childhood:

This is not a democracy, you do not have a vote.

You are a (insert last name). You are not allowed to be average.

I am not your friend, I'm your Mother/Father. You have a lot of friends, but I am your only Mother/Father.

At the time I did not appreciate being raised in what some might call a military type environment. They broke us down and built us up in the image they wanted.

I thank God for it every day of my adult life. We always had great support to meet our goals. My parents had a great appreciation of the arts, and they filled our lives with music, books, art supplies, and movies. They encouraged us to be well rounded children.

My Mother restarted her career once we were all in school, and we had responsibilities to the family. If these responsibilities were not met, there was hell to pay. No, we did not get the beating of a lifetime. In fact, I can't ever remember being physically hit by my parents. I think the extent that ever happened was maybe I swat on the butt when we were toddlers.

Oh my parents could think of far worse punishments. Exile to your room was the worst. They removed every last thing that could provide some form of entertainment. Any belling aching over it only extended your solitary confinement, and they never, ever backed down from what they said they were going to do.

As an adult I realize how hard this had to be for them. I had and still have an unfathomably amount of respect for my parents. Just hearing those words "I am so disappointed" was worse then getting smacked across the face.

I was grounded for 6 weeks in the summer for getting a B- in shop in 7th grade. We had a project to do, and I did it the first day of class and goofed off the rest of the term. My Dad knew this, so when he saw my report card, he asked if I had tried as hard as I possibly could. I could not lie to my Father, so when I said no I was grounded.

It may seem harsh, but that is the only B I have ever received in my life. I graduated college with a 4.0. For them it was more about ability then getting straight A's. I had the ability to do that. My brother, who wasn't as gifted in a book smart kind of way, was rewarded for getting B's and C's. It used to really piss me off as a child, but I can see their reasoning now. He had other talents, and they chose to help those flourish.

To contrast this with my sis-in-law's family is unbelievable. Both of her older sister's quit high school as soon as they turned 15. Both were pregnant by 17. Their parents let them do whatever they wanted. They were their "friends".

She managed to not follow her sister's mistakes and finished High school and started working. She was a friend of mine, and that is how she met my brother. I used to marvel at the way their house was ran. The kids would just yell at their Mother to do this or do that. It used to make me cringe.

Her sisters didn't have anything to do with any of the Fathers of their children, and the parents encouraged them to stay on welfare. They used to give them spending money for part of their food stamps. Why should they work? They were Mothers! They would tell people this!

This was a world I had never experienced before. To say the least, my parents weren't exactly thrilled when they found out about their new in-laws to be. My sis-in-law K wasn't like that though. Until, of course, they had children.

We started seeing the signs when the kids were really small. K is definitely more of a "friend" parent, and is basically to lazy to disipline her own children. They do what they want, when they want. They are both overweight because she lets them eat whatever they desire. To me, that is a form of child abuse in itself.

It has gotten worse as the kids grew up, and the only time they behave is when my brother is around. I'm almost ashamed to type this, but a good portion of the time I cannot stand being around my neices. They whine and cry all the time. The disrespectful things that come out of their mouths astound me.

I also cannot correct these children, unless I want to release WWIII. K thinks we were raised to harshly, and that there was not enough emotion in our family. Her family is constantly saying I love you and hugging and kissing (to the point where it gets sickening), but they would stab each other in the back in a heart beat. Her sisters also syphin money out of them like crazy, much to my brother's dismay.

No one in my family would ever stab me in the back. We are loyal to the end to each other. I may not hug and kiss my brother everytime I see him (ok, ever eww), but he knows I am there for him, no matter what the cost or consequence.

The real battle began once her kids were all in school full time. Her and my brother had made a pact that she would get a part time job once the kids were in school. This was the result of my sis-in-law wanting this huge ass house. My brother said they could buy it, but that the only way they could make it was for her to work once the kids were in school.

My brother worked double shifts and an extra job when they first got the house, so that she could stay home with the youngest. He did this for two years, and when she went to 1st grade it was time for my sister-in-law to get a job.

Her family was outraged!! Why couldn't he provide for the family!! What fucking decade do these people live in? They made my brother out to be some monster on the level of a woman beater. Their poor, poor daughter was going to have to work 20 hours a week!!

At first she was resistant to the idea, and refused to get a job. I know, I know...Being a stay at home Mom is a full time job. Once all the children are in school though, what the hell is there to do all day? My sis-in-law had plenty to do, like take her sisters out to lunch and shopping. No wonder they didn't want her to work.

She broke down finally when my brother said he was selling the house. That was a status symbol she wasn't willing to give up, so off to work she went. She always finds some kind of problem at whatever job she has, and gets fired/quits. I bet in the last 3 years she has had 8 different jobs.

So the battle rages on, their kids are fat little brats, and I weep for the future of our DNA. My Mom has hope that once they get older our DNA will win out. I just don't know.

*edited to add*

I'm really not a heartless monster who hates her neices. I love them even though I can't stand them most of the this day, my emotions seem to run high, and I get into bitch mode more then my usual bitch mode.

Never forget....

Friday, September 10, 2004

Why I can't stand 4th grade teachers

My brother's eldest child A is entering 4th grade this year. I hold a horrible grudge against the 4th grade, and have had two really bad experiences with 4th grade teachers. I appologize now to any 4th grade teachers that aren't the anti-christ.

When I was in 4th grade we had to make an Indiana History Scrapbook. Basically we had to cut out a bunch of crap and paste it into this great big book and do a bunch of essays.

The first page of the book had "Paul Revere's Ride" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The last time I checked this didn't happen in Indiana, but I digress. Our teacher said, "If any of you can memorize this poem, you do not have to do the scrapbook." It was a long honkin' poem-3 pages.

Being the realist that I am, I asked what we would do instead. Even at the tender age of 9 I knew adults were full of loop holes. She said we could read or spend more time in art. We did have a kick ass art department in my Elementary school, and we were currently weaving baskets and working on stained glass designs. She kind of gave me one of those annoying ass "aww how cute you want to do this but you'll never be able to" kind of smiles. That was a big mistake. I can still see that damn smile on her face.

I weighed my options. Considering we were spending the last hour and a half of the day working on these scrapbooks, it seemed like a fair trade-off. Besides, I really dug the basket weaving, and I wanted to make my Mom something for her birthday that was coming up.

I don't think my teacher counted on having a kid in her class with a photographic memory. They wanted to skip me a bunch of grades when I was younger, but my parents wouldn't allow it, thinking that social development was more important then graduating high school at 13 or 14. Thank God for my parents.

Anyway, I spent the whole weekend doing nothing but memorizing that damn poem. I went into school on Monday and stood in front of her desk. She looked up with that same self defeating smile and said, "Yes?" to which I replied:

Paul Revere's Ride

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
>From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

She just kind of sat there dumbfounded. I'm sure I had a real sarcastic grin spread wide over my face. All she could manage to say was, "Take your seat."

The day took an eternity. I watched the clock like a hawk waiting for the very minute I could prance out of that class and begin working on my new basket.

It finally came, and she said for everyone to take out their scrapbook materials. I just sat there. Finally I raised my hand and asked if I could go to the art room now. She told me no, to take out my scrapbook supplies.

What the fuck??? I'm sure that wasn't the exact words I was thinking, but I am sure it was something along those lines. I refused to do it. Her voice got louder and louder while I sat there shaking my head at her. It was dead quiet for about 2 minutes. No one even seemed to breath in the room as we stared each other down.

Finally she said, "Go to the principal's office." Again, What the fuck?? So I go to the principal's office and proceed to tell my side of the story. I was chastised for not listening to an adult. Then my parents were called.

My parent's getting calls from the principal's office wasn't all that out of the ordinary for them. Between my brother and I, we always managed to get ourselves into trouble. I didn't fear certain death or an all girls school this time. My Mom came to the school about a half hour later. I heard her voice raised. I heard the principal's voice raised. I heard things like, "Well we never thought a 4th grader could actually do it."

She came out of the principal's office and said, "Let's go" in one of those stern Mother type voices. She didn't say a word all the way to the car. To make a long story short, they refused to budge, and I'd have to do the damn scrapbook.

I just didn't understand. The teacher said I wouldn't have to do it. I had witnesses even I told my Mom. It just wasn't fair. She told me to take three valuable lessons from this experience, and I can still hear her saying them in my head today, 25 years later.

These were her words of wisdom, "Life is not always fair, people don't always do what they say they are going to do, and some battles just aren't worth fighting."

(Gnomes are worth fighting for)

I understand now what she meant, but at the time it didn't make much sense. I proceeded to make the crappiest scrapbook in history. My parents till have it to this day.

My second bad experience was with my eldest neice's 4th grade teacher. I was working night shift so that I could be there when my sister's kid went to school. Her new job required that she start at 6 in the morning, and finding a babysitter at that time is next to impossible.

I had worked 14 hours that night, and my little neice came peaking over my bed. "Aunt Kelly, I need help. I didn't finish my math homework and Mrs ___ (I should put the bitches real name in is mean."

She asked me what 43 divided by 6 was. In my half asleep state I said 7. She asked me a couple more. I remember after I got them off to school I thought, damn I hope they aren't doing remainders yet. I was sure they didn't do that in 4th grade, and my mind was playing tricks on me.

Weeeeell, they were doing remainders, and all the answers I gave her were wrong. This coming from the chick that memorized that damn poem. It is amazing what can happen before you have caffeine in the morning. This evil teacher proceeded to call my neice stupid in front of the whole class. She's a sensitive kid, and she cried all night until I got home from work at 2:00 am.

My sister was also awake, because she was scared of what I might do the next morning. People can do anything they want to me, but if you mess with my family there is hell to pay. She begged me not to go to the school, that she would take care of it.

The thought of going to jail after I kicked this old ladies ass probably stopped me from going, and I am not a violent person. I don't know if I could have controlled myself. At the very least I would have caused a scene that would have embarrassed my neice.

My sister had a nice parent-principal conference over that one, and I believe the bitch was disciplined over it. A couple of months later the kids had an open house for the art they had done. I went to it, and the minute I got that teacher out of earshot I told her, "Don't you ever call me stupid again." She looked kind of puzzled, in a you are a psycho and I'm afraid now kind of way.

If I ever have kids, they are going to be home schooled during 4th grade.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

The post where I try to Ho out my Dad

I need to get in contact with Hollywood stat. In the never ending stream of thought that goes through my mind, I just had a brilliant idea...

I know the studios in Hollywood have all these test audiences before a movie comes out. They fill out a form, and sometimes it even is taken so seriously that the movie is changed.

I'm sure this costs a nice chunk of change, having all those people there. It would be way more economical to have just one person that could point all your plot holes, unnecessary scenes, and bad dialog with just one action: snoring.

(I know, I know...Gnomes have nothing to do with this post but I have not given up the fight!!)

Our family rates movies by "elbows". My Mom will call me and say they just seen a 3 elbow movie or a 6 elbow movie. The more elbows my Father gets during a movie, the more problems there are.

He has a real short attention span. I have studied film and screenwriting, and it is amazing to me that just when something isn't moving the story forward, should have never made it into the movie, or is just plain bad my Dad promptly falls asleep and begins to snore.

I remember going to see "The Firm" with Tom Cruise. My Dad was on his second elbow. He was snoring rather loudly, so my Mom whacked him a good one to which he said rather loudly, "I was just resting my eyes!" The whole theater roared with laughter, and did the minute he started snoring after that. To this day I have never seen the ending of "The Firm", and just mentioning it makes my Mom twitch.

There have been rare instances of the phenominon that is known as the zero elbow movie. Shindler's List....Good Will Hunting....There's Something About Mary...Star Wars... These are few and far between, and there aren't a hell of a lot more then the ones I just typed.

Basically, he has a real, undiscovered talent. If anyone has any ideas on how I can Ho him out, it'd be much appreciated.