Sunday, January 29, 2006

Mary Fucking Poppins


Yeah, it's been awhile since I posted after I said I would be posting.

I've been busy being Mary Fucking Poppins. My brother's wife is pregnant with twins. She's in her 32nd week, and went into premature labor. They stopped the labor, thank God, but she was in the hospital for a week.

Considering my brother isn't the type of man to say 'see ya', he spent the entire week at the hospital with her, sleeping in a chair in her room.

The problem? They already have two girls, a thirteen and nine year old..

The other problem? Her family decided to go MIA during the week, leaving me, a full time job working nights, and two children with attitudes to watch.

Now, let's review for those who don't read regularily, shall we? Sis-in-law's family is like stuck in the 50's. Women shouldn't work if they have children, even if the kids are like 30. They might need their Mommy.

Yes, Mommy. They all still call their Mom Mommy, and all their children call them Mommy, except for the niece K, who seems to showing more and more of the kj4ever side every day.

Oh, and their husbands don't work either.

So she has two sisters who don't work who married two men who don't work. Mommy and Daddy are retired.

It is funny how all these people that don't work can't find the time to help out their poor sister who is stuck in the fucking hospital scared to death that she is going to have preemies.

People make me sick.

So between me and my niece and nephews from my sister we have been taking care of the brother's homestead, and it hasn't been easy. I'm sure I'll have much more to write about later, but I just wanted to check in and say I haven't abandonded the blog-o-sphere again.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

My Own Personal Cocaine

Ok, so I've never been a real big watcher of Television. While I puffy heart movies to death, TV just never really held my interest.

I mean, there are shows that if they are on I'll watch them because they are funny and/or interesting. I'm just so busy that I've never really got into watching most of the pop culture phenomenons that people rave about. I just saw "Friends" for the first time a little bit ago. It was cute.

Then it happened. I totally blame Spike TV for my new addiction.


You see, Spike TV shows CSI two times a day. While I was off work at Christmas time I was bored and laying on the couch, channel surfing. I hit CSI just as it was starting.

I've become a full blown junkie since that fateful day. The advent of TIVO has allowed me to record every single episode that comes on my 300 and some odd channels that I have with satellite. Since I work afternoons I would miss most if not all of them, but my handy dandy TIVO makes sure there are at least two episodes waiting for me every day when I get off work.

I'm not a big fan of the whole cop show/shoot 'em up kind of shows. Don't really care for all the legal/doctor dramas out there either, and I never have. But CSI....

C.S.I. *sighs*

Not any old CSI mind you, but the Las Vegas version. My lovely TIVO was set to record any CSI's, and some imposter CSI's showed up with that creepy David Caruso and someone whom I usually love, Gary Sinise.

I had to stop that shit and just get my beloved Las Vegas CSI shows. Las Vegas is the Cocaine to the cheap imitations composed of crack that are New York and Miami.

I'm sure that crack might come in handy when the Coke runs out, but until it does I'm only snorting the good shit, thankyouverymuch.

At first two shows a day were fine at, my fix complete.

But like any Coke head worth their salt, I just couldn't get enough. I needed more. I wanted more. I HAD TO HAVE MORE.

So my brother causally mentions that he has season 1 on DVD.

23 episodes of coke-fueled fun. I can have as much as I want, when I want. No time schedules, no waiting. I can snort the Coke that is CSI whenever I want.

So I borrowed it, and thanks to the greatness that is Martin Luther King Jr. I had a long weekend. It would have been cut short as I had to work Saturday, but I still got my two days off since Monday was a holiday.

I even thought of sneaking the DVD's to work Saturday because I just couldn't wait to see where it all started.

Junkie, indeed.

I managed to control myself and actually go to work without my drug of choice, and returned home at about 4:00 am Sunday morning. This is when my two day bender with my own personal coke began.

I could just watch one of them before going to sleep, right? I had two days for my CSI debauchery, no need to over do it when I had just come off a 12 hour shift.

Fat fucking chance.

So I stayed up until about 10 am watching the first DVD with the first four shows. I debated putting in the second disk, but knew I had better get some sleep. I took a short nap, a couple of hours, and then proceeded to watch disk two.

In the mean time, people like C are calling because they know I'm off the next day. Like the coke head I have become I ignore friends and family just to get my fix.

My God am I going to get some awful search hits off this one. I apologize in advance to any of you real coke heads looking for information. Here's a bit of advice: That shit will kill you get help.

Anyway, so I'm ignoring friends and family, watching my new love CSI practically non-stop with short naps in between disks. Every time that Who song comes on at the beginning I want to jump on my couch with the three finger salute, and I fucking hate The Who.

Counting for commercials, which aren't present on the DVD thank God I figure I have about 18 hours of coke in a box. I had done snorted all my coke by 1 pm on Monday, first season complete.

I then proceeded to go to the video store and rent the first disk of #2.

I think I have a problem, and I full well plan on going out and buying all five seasons of CSI, and soon.

When those run out perhaps I'll give Miami or NY a try, but I doubt it. It would feel too much like cheating on my beloved Gil and Co.

My God I need help....

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Team Jolie

So Angelina Jolie is really pregnant with Brad Pitt's baby. Many people are split on this issue, saying Angelina is a home wrecking bitch that spoiled poor Jennifer Aniston's perfect marriage to our modern day golden boy.

I'm on team Jolie, if only for one reason. That bitch Jennifer needs to stay away from my man Vince.

I could really care less what celebrities do. I try real hard to not know what the hell is going on in the world of celebrity debauchery, but that is becoming increasingly hard when even the CNN crawl announces this drivel.

My sister, The Lemon, follows this shit like the gospel. I remember she wouldn't go to The Trump, a gambling boat here in the Chicago area, because he cheated on Ivana.


I find it hard to believe anyone is innocent in this situation, but Jolie turning up prego kind of surprised me. There was this one interview with her where she said something along the lines of she probably wouldn't have children naturally because of there being so many children with no homes in the world.

After much debate at work yesterday among the hens (and by hens I mean the MEN), I brought this point up. One of the few women I work with said, "But it's BRAD PITT. Who wouldn't have a kid with Brad Pitt!!!"

I wouldn't. I think he looks like a girlie boy. He's so little. In an art sense I can appreciate his perfectly chiseled body, but other then that I don't find him all that attractive.

Yes, go ahead and kick me out of the woman club. I think Brad Pitt looks like a real pussy, and I hate saying that word, but it's the only one I can think of to describe him.

A lot of these Hollywood men remind me of that. Look at Tom Cruise. I bet my 9 year old niece could kick the crap out of him on the playground without batting an eye. If I'm going to be with a man, my 9 year old niece better not be a threat.

I'm a tall girl, clocking in around 5'8 and 140 pounds. The man I am with better have a more threatening presence then my size 7 junior ass. I mean, if I were out with Brad Pitt and someone came up to us in a menacing way, I'd feel the need to say, "Stand back honey, I'll save you," because the menacing dude would probably be more scared of me then him.

Damn that was an awful run-on sentence. Anyway....

But if I were with Vince Vaughn........

Now I'm not the type to develop celebrity crushes, but God Damn is that man fine. I sure wouldn't feel the need to protect HIM. In fact, I highly doubt any threatening menacing type dudes would even approach someone like him.

I don't want to come off sounding like some wimpy female that needs a man to protect her. Keep in mind that I grew up with a brother that was 4 years older then me, and is around 6'5. I'm a tough chick.

But I make my own money, pay my own bills. If I'm going to be in a relationship he better bring something different to the table, and sheer size and strength is a great plus in my book.

Oh, and Vince isn't prettier then me. Oh, and I could wear heals without towering over him. Who wants to date a guy with better cheek bones then you? Who wants to date a guy that would look better dressed up then you?

Fuck that. Give me Vince any day. This is why I am on Team Jolie, because Jennifer has done went and stole my future hubby.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Love, Sweet Love

There are just a few things out there that make me actually want to vomit. I usually do everything in my power not to throw up, from downing Pepto to promising God I'll be a very good girl if He just gets me through this random stomach problem.

The number one reason why I would actually want to herck all over my shoes happened last night. You see, I work in what could be described as it's own little city. When you have 3000+ people working together, you can get everything from a new TV to drugs, right at work.

You also can find love.

Now I've only been that stupid once, but he was so cute and a drummer in a band and really tall. Hell I didn't even know that we worked together when we first met, as it is hard to know all 3000 people. Thankfully it didn't turn into a bad experience like so many others have, but usually it goes terribly wrong.

Think about it. Most of these people work on an assembly line. They are STUCK next to each other all day, every day.

So you'll see a hook-up happen. It's easy to tell, because as I saw last night when I wanted to vomit on my Nikes they act like kids in high school again.

The happy new couple last night was walking out of the plant holding hands. Now I'm not talking about people in their early 20's. I'm talking about people in their mid to late 30's.

People where I work usually don't stay married long......

I've never been the hand holding PDA type. Not that I've never held someone's hand, or am opposed to holding someone's hand, but these people need to hold on to the other for dear life at any moment where each other's hand is free. They act as though they haven't seen each other in days but have been working right next to each other all day.


My foray into dating work people went a bit like this. Do not look at me, do not touch me, and for fuck's sake do not tell anyone we are together. The one thing that I have learned from working in an environment that has more men then women is that men put women to shame when it comes to gossip. I mean to shame.

I saw them at lunch that day, feeding each other, holding hands, looking all in love. It usually happens real quick like, one day they are visiting each other's jobs the next they are having vomit inducing public displays of affection.

I know what is going to happen next. They will stay this way for awhile, but it'll burn out quick. One will get tired of the hanging on, of the being around each other 24 hours a day. As the one tries to pull away the other will pull closer, causing fights that while amusing to an extent can be rather uncomfortable for their co-workers to witness.

Then they'll break up.

Then they'll have to look at each other for the next 20 or so years.

I know when I see The Rocker at work it can be a bit uncomfortable, and we were smart about the whole thing. We've pretty much remained friendly, but it's still like Oh G Damn when I see him sometimes.

Imagine if I had practically had sex with him in front of 3000 people and professed my undying love.

Then there will be the one trying to make the other jealous with some new PDA with a new person. Sometimes it works, leaving the new PDA person out in the cold. Sometimes it doesn't, but will cause a couple of good behind the bleachers type fights.

So I'll watch the ensuing drama, without having much choice in the matter. I'll try and control my gag reflex as I see them fall in and out of love. I'll try and not vomit when the big break up happens, the big make up, and the finding someone new.

I'll try, I promise, but vomiting would make me feel so much better, like when you've drank too much and you know it's coming but would be doing a lot better if you just went ahead and got it over with.

Yeah, something like that.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006


I changed my pic here at FFS. I had to get my driver's license renewed, and I was on a mission from God to get a good pic this time.

Not to shabby, eh?

So anyway, I got up early, bound and determined not to look like I had just left a three day crack binge like my last picture. It was so bad that when I would get carded people would ask, "Is that really you?"

Yes, it was bad, very bad.

Now I know that most people do not like their driver's license photo. It isn't like you are visiting Glamour Shots when you go to get it taken, but still. My last picture came out of a panic when a friend informed me that if you license expires for too long they make you take the written test again in Indiana.

Fuck, I know I'd fail. When they ask what yellow means do you think they have an answer that says, "Go like hell it's fixin' to turn red?"

So after a night of debauchery I got up a bit late. The DMV was closing in like a half hour, so I put my hair in a ponytail and drove like a woman possessed to the DMV.

It wasn't until they handed me my license that I realized I still had eye make-up on one eye, and a bit under my eye, and a bit to the side of my eye.

Just one eye mind you, the other was perfectly fresh. You couldn't really tell if I had been beaten up or just forgot to do the other eye.

Terrible I tell you, terrible. The DMV Nazi informed me that they only retake pictures if it's blurry. I begged. I pleaded.


So I've thought about losing my license over the last three years. The only problem with that is it's a total pain in the ass to get a new one and prove who you are. I never rousted up the energy to do it, so I had my Crack Addict Picture for the last three years.

Perhaps I don't look a lot younger then my age at all. Perhaps I've just been carded all these years because The Fates were bored and wanted to see me groan and squirm everytime someone asked for an I.D.

I better get carded now that I have said goodbye to the Crack Addict. Damn you fate, I swear I better....

Do you have a Perfect Life?

Of course you're not, silly. No one is.

I read a blog while surfing BE, and in a nutshell it was a rant about how all people in the blog-o-sphere act like they are perfect and write like they have perfect little lives.

Unfortunately I clicked the 30 second counter as soon as it ran down because I didn't particularity care for what he was saying, so I don't have a link. It did make me think afterwards though.

While this may have a bit of merit, I try to maintain a balance of the good and bad. I've bemoaned my fate and celebrated it here. I tend to be more of a positive person, so I decided to list all my faults, right here in the open, so that I will not be one of those bloggers with a perfect little life.

I say "dude" all the time. No, really dude, I really say dude all the time.

I make fun of stupid people. Not like mentally challenged people, but people that should know enough not to be so stupid.

I hold a grudge like nobody's business.

I'm a social smoker, formally a fully addicted smoker.

I pull the tags off my pillows and mattresses.

I have an extremely hard time committing in a relationship.

If I feel that someone has done something to lose my trust or loyalty, I have absolutely no problem cutting them out of my life and never thinking of them again. (I know, that's baaaad.)

I'm very anal about my teeth. If I eat, I must brush and floss, no matter where I am. If I am out drinking, my teeth will feel periodically nasty and I will go brush my teeth. It is rather annoying to the people I know, and I am so sick that I always carry travel sized tooth paste and floss and a tooth brush with me everywhere I go.

I have incredibly fresh breath though, and have never had a cavity. I'll have to tell you all about how my teeth fetish came about, but that is a post in itself.

Oh yeah, back to the faults....

If I get a mositoe bite, I must scratch it until it bleeds.

I only give my cats bottled water. I don't know if that qualifies as a fault, but my brother thinks it means I am fucked in the head. I guess being fucked in the head is a fault, eh?

When I get sick I am the biggest baby in the world. I want someone to take care of me NOW dammit, and act like a total brat. I am sure it is hard for some of you long time readers to imagine, but if you try real hard you just might be able to picture it.

I'm a purse snob. If it don't say Coach or Gucci, I'm not having it.

Pot luck dinners creep me out if I don't know all the people because they might be like nasty people with dirty kitchens and germs all over the place. If there are kids there with their dirty little hands and snotty little noses digging in, forget it. I'm not eating.

Oh yeah, and I'm a bit of a germ-a-phob.

I don't act my age. At. All. Not even close.

I'm a bad blogger that disappears for a month and then returns like nothing happened.

I have a very low tolerance for bad little children that do not listen. A lot of times these children are considered "cute" by their parental units, but usually they are just "brats".

I'm sure there are many more things wrong with me, but hey, this is a start. Just in case anyone thought I was perfect.


Monday, January 09, 2006

Back to the Grindstone

So after having two weeks off for the holiday it is back to work for me today.

I like working afternoons, really I do, but these last two weeks have really shown me what I miss out on while the day walker people are home at night.

You have to have a certain personality to work afternoons. Most people I know hate it. When I worked days I had to speed like I was on the final lap of the Indy 500 to make it on time. Getting up at 4 in the morning just doesn't suit me.

Now going to sleep at 4 in the morning fits like a glove, but these last two weeks were hella-fun (G Damned South Park get out of my head). Not just because I didn't have to go to work, but because it didn't have to be a Saturday or a Sunday before I could actually see people that I don't work with.

But I'm going back to the vampire shift. Today. Sucks Ass.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Baby + Baby

They say when you die and go to hell, which let's face it, is a good possibility for me, you spend the rest of eternity in a place that brings the most fear, pain, suffering, and anguish that you can think of.

I visited my personal hell today.

It was my sister-in-law's baby shower.

Yup, my brother has knocked her up again. Not only did he knock her up, but he had to pay twice for the same ride.

You guessed it, twins.

See, I told you a lot has happened while I was on blogging hiatus.

Now I am not a total heartless bitch. I'm excited. I love all my nieces and nephews to death, and really enjoy spoiling the shit out of them.

This also clears up another problem in my life. Since I'm 35 and have no children, the odds are really against me ever having one. This is not an accident people.

Anyway, if you do the math, factor in that most people in my family almost make it to a hundred unless there's a freak accident, and realize that since I was a later in life baby and the current nieces and nephews aren't all that much younger then me, who the hell is left to take care of me when I'm old?

I mean really, the niece that lives with me is only like 15 years younger then me. If I'm 95 I don't want some old 80 year old taking care of me for fuck's sake!

But these two......That's a whole 35 year difference as my SIL is about to pop any day. I could have a spry 60 year old taking care of me when I'm in my 90's.

Oh these kids are going to be spoiled. Anyway, where the fuck was I? Oh yeah, HELL.

Who came up with the idea of having baby and/or wedding showers? For as long as I can remember I have hated them. It is just not right to put that much Estrogen in one room.

Why can't they be like Christmas? You know, everyone could come in the middle of the night and leave a present around like a baby tree or something.

For any of you men reading, you just don't realize how truly horrid these things are. They herd a bunch of women into a room who are dressed up like they are going to church on Easter Sunday.

There are no men there. Why do we have to primp and look good? We should be able to wear sweat pants with holes in them. Why go through all the pains of looking your best when no men are going to see you, FFS?

How bad the next part is depends on how much money was spent on the shower. Now my SIL's was pretty decent as it was catered, but sometimes you are in big trouble and have the dreaded pot luck food that was cooked God only knows where and has more calories then a super sized meal from Mickey D's.

So you eat and listen to such intellectually stimulating conversation about how Jr. just can't seem to be potty trained or how the Mr. is working long hours and neglecting them so much. This is usually sprinkled in with comments like "Why aren't you married," and "Hang in their Honey, you'll find him."

*Herk* Then I can be as happy as all of them, right? Ummm, no thanks.

So once you get through the meal and intellectually stimulating conversation they start in on the worst part.

Baby Shower Games not to be confused with it's cousin, Wedding Shower Games.

This is the absolute worst part. You play the stupidest games you can think of like "How Many Pink Q-tips are in the jar" or "Pin the baby on the Mommy" or "Baby Bingo".

Does anyone enjoy this? Huh? Am I some kind of mutant female that thinks all of this is just... Stupid? Boring? Pointless?

So you win some prize from the dollar store. Well, most do. I usually get like a "we feel sorry for the poor single girl that knows not of these things" prize because I always lose.

Why can't they just give everyone their G Damned $1.00 candle with the hot glued beads on it and get it over with already? I'm usually ready to scratch my eyes out after we have eaten, so cutting to the chase instead of this kind of inhumane torture would be welcomed by me and all other mutant females missing the shower gene.

So then the Mommy-to-be opens her presents, which takes fucking forever because all the supermoms have a flippin' contest to see who can wrap the best and use the most tape. Then Mommy-to-be has to hold up every single present and wait while everyone goes "Oooooooooooo Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh."

You could definitely see the difference in me and most of the women at the shower when she held up what looked to me like a mini toilet brush and I said "Is that a toilet brush" and people laughed and were like "No siiiilly it's to clean bottles."

Then you run like hell, or at least I do. It isn't considered rude to leave once the presents are opened, so that is when I make my get-a-way, running like my life depends on it. For all I know they sacrifice small animals after the gifts are opened.

God I fucking hate showers. I'm just not cut out for that stuff. I don't belong, I don't understand them, and I usually make certain I have to work on those days and send a gift.

I really am thinking that most women have got to hate these things. I mean really, who could enjoy this shit? You have to be fucked in the head to like this stuff. Women need to ban together and put a stop to this demented freakin' practice, don't you think? A Baby Tree is looking better and better.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Grounded at 35

So I'm grounded for two weeks. Before I go any farther I should probably add that I am 35 years old and was grounded by a 19 year old.

Now it's not a total grounding, mind you, but I'm grounded from a person.

Which would be C, who just got back from his long-distance booty call himself.

2006 isn't exactly starting off all that well. I did my stupid long distance booty call, and I was having some house issues.

Issues like my door had this big space underneath it. C promised to install a new one when he got back. Now I like to think of myself as a real independent type chick. I pay my own bills. Hell, I change the oil in my truck.

There is just something about household repairs and spiders/snakes that make me long momentarily for the 1950's. Momentarily, mind you, and then I call people like my friend C to come take care of it.

So C comes over and it turns out that the floor has ummm rotted a bit because water got under the door. He starts to go under the house in my crawl space only to find out that my sump pump has stopped working and there is about a foot of water down there because I don't ever look down there because of the aforementioned spider/snake issues I have.

Fuck. This whole time we were watching a bunch of South Park reruns, and the phrase "You've been Ef'd in the A" was said in one of them.

So for the rest of the day I kept hearing about how I'd been Ef'd in the A. C decides to just replace the door, and come back the next day and pump out the crawl and fix the floor.

That is until my cat Oliver decides to do a swan dive down the trap door and into the crawl space.

So my 45 pound cat is screaming, I'm about to cry, and C being the good guy that he is goes in after the cat. Oliver doesn't exactly appreciate men, so he won't go to him, causing C to wade around the crawl until he could catch him.

C got Ef'd in the A.

Since he's already covered in gunky water and what we think might possibly be cat pee he goes ahead and fixes the floor also. So I have a bright shiny new door, no fear of falling though my ceramic tile foyer, and one traumatized cat that smells like ass.

Being the Prince that he is C refuses any kind of money from me and makes plans to come back the next day to pump out the crawl and put in a new sump pump.

I just can't have this, so I tell him I'm taking him out at least.

The 19 year old niece hears this and responds with an exuberant "HELL NO." You see, C and I tend to get into a bit of trouble when we are together. Last week when we went out the niece called at like 11 to see when I was coming home. "We're paying the tab now," I told her. We did too. The only problem was we started another one and I didn't turn up at home until about 3.

Hey, we were both having issues and worried about our respective ex's/booty calls. C didn't drink that much because he was driving, and I really didn't drink a lot, but we still seem to have a real hard time coming home when we are together.

So niece decides we need a babysitter because of the evil influence we seem to have on each other. After this day we both had she said we could probably use a driver, and that she'll drive us to where we want to go and she'll come pick us up when we want to come home.

Niece was about to get Ef'd in the A. She so should have known better then to give us free reign with alcohol.

Now I'm not a big drinker. I've never been especially good at it, and I don't think C is either. C was confused about his ex and his new booty call, had to go into a nasty, water filled crawl space, and worked his ass off all day.

We were bound to be bad, even if we weren't psychic soul mates from a parallel universe that cause each other to do Very. Bad. Things.

So we go to Hooters for all you can eat wings, get some pitchers of beer, and even buy the niece dinner since she has been so kind to drive us. We see C's sis-in-law, one of my best friends, and she bitches about us both being off work this week and she has to work. Pay attention now, because we will get back to this part, unfortunately.

Then we decide we want to go out. She drops us off at a local pub, one of those non-meat market types where you can just relax and hang out.

"Want a Jager Bomb?" he asks me.

You see, here is where it all goes terribly awry.

Let me just say this. Whoever invented Jager Bombs is the Anti-Christ. Fuck terrorists, the U.S. of A. needed to go after this sadistic bastard that decided an energy drink mixed with hard liquor was a good idea.

I mean for fuck's sake, drunks can be the most annoying people in the world. Now you have a hopped up wide awake drunk.

Evil I tell you, pure evil.

This is the point where I should have said, "You know last week you almost missed your flight because we stayed out until it was time for you to go to the airport, and I worried my niece because I didn't come home until very late." Then he should say, "You know what Kel, you're right. We'll just have a few beers and have a good time."

Instead I said "OK!"

They just go down so easy and don't taste like alcohol. I puffy heart Red Bull too, so it is just a bad combo.

I have no idea how many I had. I have no idea how many he had. Something got totally fucked up along the way though and he paid the tab when at 2:30 the owner was telling us we had to leave.

C got Ef'd in the A again.

So we call the niece, and she's already on her way thankfully. "I may be 19, but I know bars don't stay open that late," she says, sounding rather annoyed.

We then proceed to go to C's house and sit in his truck in his driveway and listen to Dave Matthews for 4 hours.

I would expand upon that part a little more, but once we talked the niece into listening to music for awhile the rest gets a bit fuzzy.

So we sang and laughed and talked. Poor niece was drifting in and out of sleep from her seat in the back. Why the hell we stayed in a Truck in the middle of winter in Chicago is beyond me. Seemed like a good idea at the time?

Around what I would guess to be 6:00 we decide we would be such sweethearts if we took C's sis-in-law breakfast since she has to work. Things start to come in a bit clearer at this point as I'm assuming my blood alcohol level finally started going down.

"NO!" comes the verdict from the niece.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaasssssssssseeeeeeeeeeee," we say in unison.

"I'm sober now," C says.

"No you're not!!" screams the niece. "FINE I'll drive you," she says and off we go!

I could go into the horrible experience we had at McDonald's, the way C did a flying leap in between his brother and sis-in-law while they were still sleeping, the way we accidentally woke up his niece, the lecture we got about how even though it was a nice gesture it wasn't all that smart, and how we ate the McDonald's before the sis-in-law got to the table.

But we don't want to go into that, as this post is already hella-long (thank you South Park).

Basically we are in trouble yet again. The Niece has grounded us from each other for two weeks. She can laugh about it now, as can his brother and poor SIL.

The problem is he paid. The poor guy got Ef'd in the A over and over that day. I guess when we are done being grounded we are going to have to do it again.

This time we'll be more responsible though. We will act like adults. We'll just go out and have a good time and come home.

Yeah, and hell could also freeze over. I have to do something for him though, and I told him if he don't let me I'll start calling him like a girl who has just been laid properly for the first time.

It is a good thing we'll never reproduce. The mixture of our DNA would be quite a scary concept indeed.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

The Space Between

We are over. We know this. We can handle doing the friends with benefits thing. I mean really, we know how different we are. It would be so much easier if we didn't have so much fun together.
The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more
The space between
The wicked lies we tell to keep us safe from the pain

My God I freakin' hate it when people quote shit in their blogs, especially when it is about lovey-dovey relationship crap.

Please excuse me while I vomit all over my own this blows post.

I'm putting all the blame of this abomination on Dave Matthews and out of control hormones. He needs to stop writing songs about my life and get his own fucking life.
The space between
Your heart and mind
Is the space we'll fill with time

We fought over the remote because you wanted to watch CNN and I was watching South Park. You told me I need to know what's going on in the world. I told you that I know what's going on in the world, thankyouverymuch, which is why I need to laugh and watch South Park.
The space between
What's wrong and right
Is where you'll find me hiding
Waiting for you

I should move on. You should move on. We never should have done what we did. Neither one of us has the ability to compromise what needs to be compromised to make this work. The ability to hang out and enjoy "benefits" without the feelings is something else we just don't have.
The space between
The bullets in our fire fight
Is where I'll be hiding waiting for you
The rain that falls
Splashed in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room

I wanted to come to you on Saturday, but you wanted me to come on Friday. You wanted me to leave on Monday, but I had things to do and needed to be back home Sunday. We actually compromised, and I came on Friday and left on Sunday.

But it wasn't enough for you. You full well expected me to stay until Monday, because men like you are just used to getting what you want. You've always gotten what you wanted, until me.
Look at us spinning out in the madness of a rollercoaster
You know you went off like the devil in the church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do my love
Is hope we don't take this ship down

I just don't care about $200 dinners or $500 Campaign. I don't care about fancy parties filled with important people. Just being with you would have been enough for me, and in your world paved in gold you can't seem to wrap your brain around that.

You could not buy that extra day.

You will never be able to buy me, and the part that stings is you can't comprehend that. You keep trying.
You cannot quit me so quickly
Is no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But I've got all the time for you love

You sent me this part of Dave's song a long time ago, remember? When you first moved?

So I didn't quit you so quickly. I did go on a hiatus for about a year, but never really quit you. What you failed to realize was it wasn't that I had no hope in you, but you had no hope in me.
We're strange allies
With warring hearts
What a wild eyed beast you be

And I need to quit you. I know this now. I knew when you cruely shut me out last Sunday afternoon, when you realized I was really going to leave. I knew when you called me to apologize. You said you couldn't bare to see me walk away yet again, and just wanted more. Why can't you see that it is your actions that make me walk away, time and time again?
These fickle fuddled words confuse me
Like will it rain today
We waste the hours with talking talking
These twisted games we're playing

It's really just a big, complicated game, isn't it? You are all about winning this game, and I'm just about surviving it.

To survive, I must quit this game now. I don't think we can be friends for awhile, even friends without benefits, because it isn't healthy for you or for me. Yes, it breaks my heart, but I am used to that as I left little shattered pieces of it every time I left you.

Was it a mistake? This weekend?

If it got me to this point, no, no it wasn't, even if it feels like the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

The space between
The space between

At least I didn't break out Grey Street. Will you forgive me for this post if I promise to return you to your regularily scheduled crazy ass blonde chick tomorrow?

*Late Addition*
After writing this I noticed it fell into the new Blogging 4 Books competition and I entered it. Check out B4B here.

Monday, January 02, 2006

Big in 2005

That was the name of the show I watched while the Mystery Man slept the sleep of a deeply satisfied man (Thank you God), and I decided I'd have my own Big in 2005 post.

Granted, I've sucked ass as a blogger in 2005. 2004 saw daily posts from me, but 2005 just kicked me in my proverbial ass personally.

Not much of an excuse, but 12 hour working days, one very sick Father, countless speeding trips to Mississippi to see said Father, and a sister that turned our whole family upside down causing me to get anther roommate, my 19 year old niece, was a big part of the reason why I didn't blog nearly as much as I did in the past.

But now, dear readers who are left, my Dad is much better (thank you God again), work has calmed down, and life with the niece and nephew is just peachy.

I still had some Big in 2005 moments here at FFS. Between search engines and the people who faithfully read my blog even when there was nothing new to read, FFS had some posts that got quite a bit of attention.

My Wanted: post from February about what I want in a boyfriend got a lot of attention, especially from Search Engines. I received three email proposals from this post. Not to shabby, eh?

The Echo Bastards post received quite a bit of attention as did the Angry Xer's vs. Delusional Boomers and it's compliment post 50 is the new 30.

Damn those Boomers can search, the Echos and the Babies. Most Baby Boomers sought these posts, especially the 50 is the new 30. 50 is the new 30 my 35 year old ass. I now feel justified in ripping on the "Me" Generation, as they proved again how everything is about THEM.

God don't get me started on that crap again. I've gotten my fill of hate mail over that, thankyouverymuch.

Rock it like a porn star received it's fair share of search engine hits, but I'm assuming the people searching for Porn Star, or pulling porn star hair came back from it a bit disappointed.

Oh, and while we are on the subject, any of you searching for kids doing certain things, get your sick fucking asses off my blog. I have no clue how searching for that (which I'm not going to say as it might pop up even more in the engines) brings you to my blog, but get the fuck out of here you sick, perverted ass.

Oh, and you people searching for Slut Bratz Dolls or naked Bratz Dolls or Bratz Dolls having sex, please get therapy, and soon.

Project Greenlight, one of my guilty pleasures, saw tons of hits from search engines and linky love alike. My buddy Gus's book got a ton of search and linky love. There is great news for 2006, as he has another deal in the works for the Gus Openshaw Blog to become a book, and soon. I'll keep you posted, because I'm sure it will be every bit as good as The Pirates of Pensacola.

I think Mr. Gus needs to start a blog about getting your damn blogs made into books, because he sure has the market covered, the lucky bastard. I still love him though.

There are a bunch more posts that had lots 'o linky love, but I'm just tired right now. I could say that I'll continue this post later, but I know I won't. I just needed something mindless to blog today as I just got back from my trip, God was kind, and I had a GREAT time. Whether is was the enormous mistake that I fear is yet to be seen, but I'll take it as it comes for now.

2006 is looking like it's going to be much better then 2005, indeed.