Telling It Like It Is (He's 38)

Squee!

Today is HUBS' birthday (he's 38), and to celebrate this occasion on my blog I decided to relay some stories as written by HUBS in an email he sent yesterday (he's 38). So, here goes...

Hi, folks.

As a school computer technician, I get to overhear some pretty hilarious stuff while working. Such as (quoted from memory) the following.

Years ago, at a Jefferson City elementary school...

Third-grader: "Ms. Gutierrez?"

Ms. Gutierrez, warily: "Yes, Billy?"

Third-grader: "You know why Santa's nose is red?"

Ms. Gutierrez, still wary: "Why, Billy?"

Third-grader, matter-of-factly: "Capillaries."
......................................................

Today, at a St. Louis County high school...

White student: "I want to understand this whole 'rap' thing."

Black student: "That would take weeks."
......................................................

Later today, at the same school, with the same students...

White student: "Rap doesn't seem to have much of a message."

Black student: "[Something about Grandmaster Flash, and then...] The old-school rappers had messages."

White student: "Yeah, but now, it's just about their own lives. 'My girl cheated on me,' 'my life is tough,' stuff like that."

[Pause]

White student: "So it's sorta like country now, really."

[Longer pause]

Black student: "Don't you ever say that again."
.......................................................

Recently, at the same St. Louis County high school...

Student 1: "Hey, do you guys remember that boy that swam in the football field when it flooded last year?"

Student 2: "Yeah, I bet he got salmonella."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUBS (he's 38)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Because We Do Things Differently In The '09 Beeyotch!!

Dear Jesus, we just want to get out of here alive...

Holy crap, I am so proud of us! We finally, after weeks of talking and planning have done something new! This is, in great part, thanks to HUBS' sister Tiny Sarcasm, or TS for short.

See TS is an avid belly dancer and she invited me to a workshop weekend she was coming to St. Louis for. I begged off the workshop since it was about $60, but said ok to the performance last Saturday night. I did this with much trepidation, though. Tickets were a whole THIRTEEN DOLLARS each. Who did these people think they were? I felt like I should really say yes, though, because this was the second time she'd asked me to do belly stuff with her, and I said no the first time.

So, on Saturday night, HUBS and I put on cool clothes and headed out to the dance studio where the performance was held. As usual with me and new things, I was not in the mood. The only thing that kept me from drifting back into my cozy, lazy Saturday pj-wearing ways was knowing that TS was expecting us.

This was not an easy task by any means. After stopping at the atm for ticket cash, we headed to a part of town neither of us knows well. We got to the street where the studio was supposed to be and it looked totally deserted. It was filled with factories on one end and apartments on the other, nothing even remotely dance-studio-y.

We drove up and down about four times and were ready to give up when we finally noticed the bright green building waaaaaaay off the street and sandwiched between two factories. There was a parking dude who directed us to a huge, completely dark, gravel and mud lot. We parked, HUBS got out and told me to watch for the mud puddles.

citygirl: Goddammit! This is what I get for trying to up my style game by not wearing clunky tennis shoes and jeans. Look what I'm wearing!

HUBS: (seeing my tan chinos and zebra striped ballet flats) Naw! Hell, naw! I'm not gonna have you ruin your shoes! This is bullshit! Let's go!

We were actually leaving when we noticed a spot on the lit and paved lot right in front of the building. We talked to parking man and he let us take the spot. Look at us! All determined to do stuff once we leave the house!!

Then came the experience of being inside the place. Um...it was really scary. It's exactly the type of place you'd go to if you want to be killed by Jason Voorhees. And the first really creepy thing we passed on the way to get our tickets? A vendor selling fetish gear: whips, chains, restraints, ball and gag crap, lots of pleather/leather/whateverthefuckthatshitismadeof. I was trying to remain calm, and did, but inside I was all fucked up.


Witch! Wiiiiiiitch!!

We got our tickets from the nice man with all the piercings and tattoos and a shiny black pompadour and headed for the basement, where the performance was. Holy fuck shits, you guys. The stairs were unbelievable. If you showed me a picture of those stairs and told me they led straight to the 9th circle of Hell I'd be like, "Well, yeah. Obviously." Later, HUBS told me that after he saw the stairs he thought his sister had set us up to be the ritual sacrifices of a cult. And that's only a small exaggeration.

As you can probably imagine the basement was no better. The pipes in the ceiling were leaky, the floor was filthy and wet, and they hadn't bothered to put enough seating around so HUBS and I (in our nice clothes) were relegated to the floor. A major feature of the room was an old conveyor belt complete with rusty nails! Joy! Joy aplenty!!

After a few performances we spotted TS and she us. We sat in front of her full table, and I hit my head on it as I sat down. It took me FOREVER to get comfortable. I thought for sure that I'd be covered in rats and roaches as soon as I sat down. The only thing keeping them away must have been...I don't know...bigger rats?

Let me just say, the people were just as terrifying as the setting. This was no standard bellydance show. Oh no. This was a Goth Tribal Fusion Bellydance show. There were lots of scarily made up faces, dog collars and just a sea of meshy, black costumes everywhere. Also, many of the performers were scary. One chick looked like an old witch. If you told me she was born in the year 10 and survived on the tears of children I'd say, "Well, yeah. What else could keep that woman alive."

We managed to stay for the whole show. I even won a door prize of a very spiky silver bracelet made in Pakistan. I'm not sure why, but it reminds me a lot of the puzzle box from Hellraiser. I'm not convinced I'll wear it.

Afterwards, in need of nourishment and light, we had breakfast at midnight at South City Diner, which is nearby. Thank God for blueberry pancakes.

Live, Dammit! LIVE!!!

Believe it or not, this isn't the most cats we've had on our property at one time.

I was raised to fear all animals except the most docile of pet fish. My mom was chased home by a snarling dog after school one day as a little girl, so to her, all animals were evil.

This tenet of my formative years held much sway over me until I met HUBS The Cat Loving Man. See, HUBS had always had a cat around the house growing up, sometimes more than one even. He loved fluffy kitties. And that's no euphemism, my friends.

After moving to the St. Louis area and living feline free for a couple of years he was starting to obsess over cats. The strays near my apartment got names from him (Hi Moses!), appreciative calls and plaintive sighs when they'd run off before he could get close enough to pet them.

I was tired of the insanity. I took him to the Humane Society so he could see some cats up close. He ended up adopting one, Tux. And I ended up seeing that not all animals need killing.

Forward to fall 2008. I'm jobless and at home all day most days. My depression, even with Tux to keep me company during the day, is deepening. But, there are bright spots.

Namely? When I spy one of our neighborhood's many stray cats out of a window. I enjoy watching them; the whole hunting, lolling, stalking, napping, trotting lot of them. They somehow make long days with no hope of finding steady work more bearable.

I decided to start feeding them a couple times a week. You know, just since it's kinda cold and they might have a hard time finding food. Really, though? Also because I wanted them to stop spending so much time across the street in front of our neighbor's garage and come a bit closer so I could see them better already.

It didn't take long to become completely invested in their lives. I run outside when I see them lolling in the street to keep them safe. I've started putting food out every day and on occasion twice a day (I feel bad when someone comes by later who missed out). I know who's dating whom and when I think of moving I know I'd miss them and wonder who'd feed them. But, most notably...I name them. Xut (that's pronounced Zoot) and Bandit were HUBS' idea, but Flo, Frankie, Sebastian and Chester were totally my doing.

And HUBS has only encouraged my obsession. Twice he's called me on his way to work to let me know the cats were gathering, Xut was shivering and I should probably put out food. Of course, I do. How could I not?

I want those strays and their as yet un-named cohorts to live like no strays have lived before. And I'm only a little ashamed by it now.

Monday, February 2, 2009

To Do:

1) Call back sex therapist
2) Find out how much our insurance will pay of the visit
3) Upload the rest of my January pics and edit them
4) Finish scanning that old b&w film I found
5) Help HUBS fix the wobbly toilet
6) Watch The Big Bang Theory
7) Eat White Castle's for dinner
8) Call Chase about big bill/interest rate
9) Clean out basket on my desk
10) Upload more honeymoon pic to flickr
11) Catch up on my blog reading
12) Put papers in fire box

Does it matter that I made this list after I'd already finished all this stuff? No, I don't think it does. It was quite a productive day, after all.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

HUBS when I'm not scaring him.

I have had a mildly interesting January 2009. After constructing my giant to do/to buy list, I've been trying really hard to step up on a lot of levels. I've made some strides, had some "events" and, as is my tendancy, completely chickened out in some areas.

Let's start with the not-so-good. I've been having periodic (about once a week) spells that HUBS calls my "tire fire". He got the term from an episode of King of the Hill where Hank is trying to explain how to deal with angry women to Bobby. Only I can honestly say, in my case, angry almost doesn't cut it. I've become enraged to the point of screaming/crying/throwing things four times this month, and the first two were over relatively small things.

First, it was the toilet. We just put on a nice new seat a couple months ago. It was so pretty and white and very sturdy. I cannot explain how deeply irrational my love for this toilet seat was, except to say that our old one never came clean anymore and was broken, so that if you moved the wrong way on the toilet you were libel to go flying off and this made it very hard to fully take care of business at times. I had already noticed that the paint on the seat was starting to come off, leaving two brown spots where the wood was showing through. You can guess what that looks like on a toilet seat, right? So, me no happy.

Then, one quiet Sunday I saw two big yellow blotches on the seat near the exposed wood. They wouldn't come off. I started to yell, and HUBS tells me he thinks he spilled bleach on the seat and that's what the yellow is. I. EX. PLOADED. So now it looks like we routinely shit and piss all over our toilet? Great, we can never have people over now! Why can't I ever have nice things anymore? Why do boys mess up everything? What the fuck is wrong with them? Does HUBS not care anything about our home at all? Is this my life now? We should just go live in the woods and shit on trees! I threw a bathroom towel into the living room and left it there. HUBS picked it up the next day, along with flowers, my favorite coffee and a snack from Quick Trip.

The second time was after our lovely HellCat Tux bit me one night. We have never been able to completely stop him from attacking us. He does it blissfully less than he used to, but the biting is still random and fierce. This time really set me off. I chased him around the house spraying him with a water bottle. Usually that's the end of it. But I guess I hadn't punished him enough, so I began to throw clothes off the drying rack in the hall at him as I sobbed uncontrollably. I finished with picking up the drying rack and throwing that at Tux too. I know, you guys. I didn't hurt him, he's a fast little bastard.

At some point late last week something made me angry while I was making a sandwich. Do you know what I did? I threw all the sandwich fixings on the floor of the kitchen and the hall, and for the third time picked nothing up. HUBS had to do it again.

All of these incidents have one thing in common: I realize I'm overreacting but cannot seem to stop myself. And, in the Tux case, the realization that I'm going too far makes me angrier and want to go even farther. So, I do.

The most recent occurance was Saturday night, and I'm sure this is what all the other enraged spells were about. HUBS and I decided to try out to be extras in a George Clooney movie that's going to be filming here, so we had spent the early evening taking pictures of each other for the casting directors. His were fabulous; he's thin, looks good in his clothes, and cute. I, looked like hell. I thought my hair was ok; it was shit. I thought I looked nice in the clothes I picked out; I was fat and lumpy in everything. And to top it off there was some blotch on my forehead that I didn't see when I looked in the mirror.

After seeing the results I was devastated. I couldn't stop thinking about how fat I am and how worthless I feel and how nothing is the way I want it to be. I cried for hours, this time without throwing anything, but massive crying nonetheless.

By 1 a.m. I was sitting up in bed (still crying) telling HUBS everything. How hard it is for me to watch him eat Taco Bell at midnight when I'm trying really hard not to eat after 10 p.m., how I don't feel anything anymore when we have sex, how hard it is to be married to someone who's never had to worry about his weight, how I hate staying at home everyday but hate the idea of going to an office, on and fucking on. I woke up with a headache and very swollen eyes, like I always do when I sleep after crying.

Today I left messages to make two appointments, one with the social worker I used to see every week, and one with a sex therapist. I really still don't know what I'm doing; with my life or work or anything else. Maybe talking will help like it did once before. But I absolutely refuse to go back on crazy pills. And that's the end of that.

Let's Get to the Bottom of This

I am nothing if not a list-maker. I sometimes write them down (mostly in my little pink hardcover purse-sized notebook) and I sometimes make lists in my head that never reach paper. I love crossing things off my lists and have been known to list things I've already done just for the complete feeling of crossing off.

Now, here's the thing; I need to change my life. Maybe not in the Oprahriffic sense of the word (all big and hard and I'll-never-be-the-same), but I need change none the less. I'm bored. I need a job. I need to enjoy life and create and experiment again.

In an effort toward all this I've come up with some ideas, goals if you will (and please do, I hate the idea of resolutions). These are things I want to do or get or incorporate into my life more fully. Because I love you guys, this is my first time writing down this list I've been thinking of for three weeks.

So, let me know what you think. Are you trying to do some of these things too? What do you want from the new year? From your life in general before you kick it? This'll be hard, but if we do it right, a helluva lot of fun too. Happy New Year!

Things To Do

-Lose 60 lbs this year. I know I should focus on being healthy/strong/blahdy blah blah, but obviously if I can lose 60 crappy-making-me-tired pounds, I'll be healthier.

-Go back to bellydance class. I haven't been in about 5 or 6 years. I loved it and I'm pretty sure I stopped because of money. This will help with the poundage thing.

-Park further away from destinations. I've actually already started this. It hasn't killed me yet.

-Go on more photo walks. Even without HUBS. I've been working on this too. The goal is to A)Walk and B)Take as many pics as possible.

-Update my flickr more often. Look at me! I've been doing this for a couple of months now, too. In 2005, when I first joined, I was on the thing all the freakin' time. I had no friends and hadn't met HUBS yet, and it really helped me feel connected to people. I miss the camaraderie created in comments and flickr mails. I wouldn't mind getting it back.

-Have more sex. We used to enjoy sexy time at least a couple times a week, but 2008 was the year of dwindling bed bopping. This, I admit, is mostly because I cannot have an orgasm to save my life, and sex has started to feel sorta pointless for me. To get past this I will A)finally find a sex therapist and go talk to them and B)jump HUBS on occasion.

-Talk to people. This is going to be so hard. I am naturally quiet and shy and a loner. But I've realized this hasn't gotten me anywhere. Since I haven't been in an office everyday I find myself completely disconnected from humankind. I have one person I used to work with who actually still bothers to email me from time to time, and that's it. No other friends. The Lady of Honor in my wedding (a close friend in college whose wedding I was in 8 years ago) doesn't even call or write to me. She's got kids, and apparently that makes it impossible to send a two line email once a month. What I need are acquaintances and actual friends I can hang out with and talk to on a regular basis. Do you know how long it's been since I had someone other than HUBS to go to lunch/dinner/movies with? The eons that have passed since I walked the mall with a girlfriend? I need people, talking to strangers will help with that.

-Find a job I love and make really good money at. I took a real step toward this on Sunday by writing to almost every newspaper in town and asking to write film reviews for them. I believe I've got one paper left and a handful of magazines.

-Get some notice for my photography. By October it had become pretty obvious people weren't just going to 'find' my photoblog. So I started sending out emails to some of my favorite design/creative/thing-loving bloggers asking them to check my pics out and recommend me to their readers. I've sent out about 6 so far, only 1 has bothered to give me a word on their blog. Do you know what this means? I have zillions more emails to send out. I will finally make a list of who to send to.

-Enter more photography contests. I managed to win one back in the fall and am hoping my pics get some notice from it. I haven't talked about it yet because the book my pics and poetry are going to be published in(as well as my prize of a tricked out toy camera) won't be out until March. So, it still doesn't feel totally real. Next? Entering contests where I can win money!

-Finish my screenplay, dammit! And? Get to work on the 3 or 4 other ideas I have rattling around in my tired brain.

-Create a photobook on Blurb. Possibly combine with my writing/poetry. Advertise it and get people to buy it. I just downloaded the software today.

-Put my wedding and honeymoon photobook together. Um...It's been 6 months. It's time.

-Get lower rates on B of A and Chase credit cards. I did it two years ago with my Citi card. I know it can be done.

-Volunteer somewhere. It'll help with the meeting people thing.

-Finally hang all those magazine/catalog tears that I've painstakingly laminated (I'll change it once a month, like my own little art installation).

-Start shopping at Aldi's again (ultra cheap prices).

-Dress better. After a year spent mostly at home I feel a bit like a bum. Even when I did leave the house I usually wore the baggiest, slouchiest clothes possible. I've been reading fashion books (The Lucky Guide to Mastering Any Style, How To Have Style, The Little Black Book of Style) for inspiration. And I just ordered some very stylish clearance items from Old Navy to help. This is gonna be hard to integrate into my daily, usually-just-leave-to-run-errands lifestyle. I did pretty good for a couple of weeks in December, but then fell pray to baggy blah stuff on my trip to Petco yesterday.

-Wear makeup. I'm not talking about a full face, just the occasional blush or eyeshadow to pep me up a bit.

-Going out and gussying up. Other than going out to eat (way too much, considering our financial state) and heading to the occasional movie, we don't really go out. And we certainly don't dress up. I think we should start. At least a couple times a month.

-Go to a dive and play pool.

-Go bowling. I hated it in high school gym class, but feel I should give it another try.

-Go out for drinks.

-Go to a networking event. I've been meaning to do this for over a year, but I've let the shyness/fear thing stop me. There's a group that meets every month and January is as good a time as any to start.

-Do something with my toenails. They're kinda dry, I need to stop just covering them up.

Things To Buy

-Trouser style jeans

-A good white button down shirt

-Fitted long sleeve t-shirts in lots of colors

-A denim skirt

-Slim jeans

-A denim jacket

-Feathered headbands from UO

-Something with studs

-Frye boots

-Something lacy

-Another real leather purse

-Motorcycle style jacket

-Redscale film from Lomo

-Poster frames that don't fall apart (4 of the 16x20 and 2 of the 22x36)

-Ginormous HDTV for HUBS

-BlueRay player with upconverting for HUBS

-A new media center for all this new electronica (and all the old dvds/cds)

-Another movie journal when I finish the one I've had since 2001

-A buffet/sideboard/cabinet/dresser to hold the stuff we have no place for

-Polaroid film (600 and Spectra). I got a new (old) camera in November I haven't even used yet because the film is so outrageously priced on ebay.

-New nail polish (some of my old standby colors need replacing)

Well. Looks like I've got a lot of work to do.

The End of Things

I have no idea what to say to you guys anymore.

Could you possibly want to hear more about my being unemployed? Or about my boring days at home? Or HUBS and my boring nights at home?

This is why I post so infrequently: I'm boring. We don't socialize, we have no friends. The people I used to work with have proven they don't actually care because they don't bother to send a simple email (with the exception of two of them).

There was a brief moment, from January to December of 2005 where I was doing a lot of new and exciting things. Taking classes, traveling to places I'd never been, alone, and talking to new people and doing a lot of new stuff.

I want that back. I had tricked myself into thinking I was a tad outgoing and adventurous. Now, with two years of no practice, I'm back to the same old home-body, boring chick. Is it possible to love being at home too much? I think so.

I've become scared again. Every time I consider a real change, I chicken out. It never gets done. I'm complacent again. I hate it. I wear the same 5 t shirts and 3 pairs of pajama pants in the house. When I leave home I wear the same 3 sweaters and two pairs of pants. I am not inspired. I have no idea who I am or what I want anymore. Every bit of excitement in my past feels like a warm dream - something that never really happened.

I'm needing for things to be new and different again. I'll be back when I've made that happen. Until then, please check out my photoblog. I'll still be posting there, because when all else fails I still take pictures. Feel free to leave comments, the photos there are mighty lonely.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

Things To Do When You're Unemployed

Photo by HUBS, Charleston SC, July 2008

1) Look for work, don't find any, and then cry
2) Read a lot
3) Watch tv a lot
4) Watch a ton of movies
5) Go for photo walks
6) Write about being unemployed
7) Consider trying to publish what you wrote
8) Make plans and lists and enjoy crossing things off
9) Laundry
10) Clean the house
11) Go to the library
12) Cut pictures of things you can't afford out of magazines like you did when you were 20. Put the pictures on your magnet board
13) List what you're getting everyone for Christmas so you don't overspend
14) Commit to making some gifts to save $
15) Stare out the window and watch stray cats wander around the neighborhood. Smile when they look at you
16) Daydream
17) Exercise
18) Decorate for holidays
19) Window shop
20) Enter contests online and hope you win things
21) Dress up every now and then, so you feel like less of a bum
22) Laugh
23) Organize your digital photo files
24) Try selling things on ebay. When you realize the only person buying stuff there anymore is you, consider a yard sale
25) Stop buying cheap purses. They will not make you happy
26) Scan all your polaroids and 120 negatives. Go through the giant box of 35mm negatives and scan those too
27) Play with the cat
28) Maintain three blogs
29) Sleep
30) Clear your mind. You won't be able to sleep otherwise

And We Have...Snow!

Not this much, though.

This year has gone by riotously fast. I kind of can't believe how much I've done this year: quit my daily grind, became a sparsely employed freelance writer/photographer, got married, did the honeymoon thing, read a lot of books, watched a lot of soaps, turned 34, collected unemployment, ran up a massive credit card bill...

I could go on. For instance, did you know I accidentally (of course) walked in on my father-in-law while he was peeing about three weeks ago? You didn't? Well, now you know.

I've also lost all hope of finding a daily gig that'll keep me busy and happily creative. Actually, that happened about a month ago. I should call the temp agency for work, but I just can't. I should go to some of my favorite stores to see if they're hiring, but, again...I can't.

And that's a lie. I can. I simply don't want to.

But. I'll have to. The checks stop in three weeks, just in time for Christmas.

Wish me luck, you guys...

It's All Sunny Out

From when he bought me a rose, earlier this month.

Our heat keeps coming on so it must be ridonkulously cold outside, but it is sunny. And when it's cold I actually don't mind the sun.

HUBS and I managed to go to dinner at one of our favorite places on my birthday, A'mis. We had a temporarily free $100 placed in our pitiful account by the overdraft protection gods, and used about $38 bucks to get us my Bday dinner.

The whole day was good, actually. My friend TC (who still works at the company I left in January) took me out to lunch at a great Thai place downtown that we love, Sen. November 19 is both of our birthdays, so from the time we realized that way back in...crap...'99(?), we've celebrated together.

After lunch I walked around downtown and then Webster to take pictures. It was so peaceful. I always feel independent and tough when I do photo walks, don't ask me why. And? I got some great stuff. I had two cameras with me, the digital I carry every day and my Diana+. The Diana uses 120 film, I'll take it to be developed today, and by the time it comes in HUBS will be paid again and I can afford to pick it up. Yay!

I think I did some reading in between photo walking and HUBS getting home. The best part about unemployment is unlimited reading time. I'm considering putting a sidebar on my site that shows how much stuff I've read in the past few months. Internet! You'd be muy impressed!

After dinner we walked around Borders for about an hour, looking at things we wanted but could not get. Then we headed to Quick Trip for snacks. I've been having a serious blueberry muffin moment for the past month, and QT simply has the best ones. You know how the top of the muffin should get a bit crispy and have that overhang that in women with too-tight pants is known as a "muffin top"? Well, only a QT muffin has muffin-top down to perfection.

My other QT weakness? Their cappuccino. Oh. MY. GOD! So fucking good, people. When it gets cold I want one everyday. Problem is they are packed with calories, sugar...I had three last week and am trying to cut back. I actually got regular coffee with cinnamon hazelnut cream and just added a bit of their caramel macchiato. Not bad, but not the same. I can feel a weekend indulgence coming on.

We got back home, and had our snackage while watching a couple of episodes from Buffy season 5. I don't remember Riley being in so many eps this season.

Later, there was snuggling. And then we fell asleep.

Good day. A really good Birthday.

Happy Friday everybody!!

Today I'm 34

How do you celebrate when you have no money? Hopefully, we'll figure that out before midnight...

Here I Go

About three weeks ago I got up early one Monday morning, put on my interview suit and headed out to Earth City, MO to reapply at a temp agency. I say reapply because it's the same agency I worked for after I graduated from college in '97, once it became obvious I wasn't going to get whisked away to Manhattan by a tony fashion mag that wanted me to be their photo editor.

On one hand this turned out good. I took all these tests: grammar, Microsoft Word, typing, Excel, sentence structure, even Power Point (which I'd never even looked at before, much less used). Except for Excel I tested as "expert" in everything. So, at least I know I'm not stupid, even though not being able to find an acceptable job makes me feel like I am. I know I definitely have concrete skills to offer.

But...This also means I'll be temping again. Basically, starting all over at the beginning again. And? Likely doing stuff I hate. Filing, data entry, answering the phones...Nothing creative, interesting. Just more of the same shitty soul-crushing work I left behind in January.

The agency needed my social security card and I didn't bother really trying to find it until Sunday. I took it in yesterday and filled out all their tax papers/agreements/yada yada.

Since I only have about a month left on unemployment it's a bit of hope for some kind of work. And yet...Working at something I hate AGAIN is destroying me.

A LOT.

Halloween 2008: The Day My Lady Bits Almost Fell Off

Halloween, apparently not just for candy corn.

I apologize for not writing more frequently these past couple of weeks, but as you can probably gather from the title...I've been having issues. If you're not prepared for frank yet gentle talk (Can this be done? We shall see!) about my girly bits you, my friend, should just keep on movin'.

Ok, so, HUBS was home from work for Halloween because he's decided that every month needs at least one three day weekend. Thank bejesus, too, cause I really needed a second opinion after taking a shower that afternoon.

See, the prior month I'd had some minor trouble with the area where panties go, that is, provided you wear briefs. Right around the time of my store closing, the area was raw, red and kinda...Oh, crap, how do I say this...Perpetually, unwantedly, moist.

I got a mirror out back then, and it didn't look so bad. By the time I considered making a doctor's appointment, my period was gone for the month and so was my irritated area.

Cut to October 31 again. I'd noticed the moistosity during my period again and after my shower decided to take another look. And, well, Holy Frijoles, Batman! It was considerably worse than in the previous month. The area had spread, for one thing. Now, I was scared. God Almighty, I thought, is it really not enough that my hair's falling out, I can't find a job and I'm having trouble losing weight. Do I really need another problem, now?

I got HUBS to look at it. And he was all, "Yeah, we need to do something about that, like, now." I tried calling my doctor, but the office was closed. That's right, closed at 4 pm on a Friday. Bitches.

We went down the street to an urgent care facility. As I filled out forms and waited for nurses and doctors all I could think was, I'm 33 and my pussy is going to fall off. I really was planning to keep using it for a few more years. Fuck the hell ALL!

Time felt like it slowed to a halt. The whole ordeal, shower/realization/urgent care diagnosis/medication buying, only took about two hours but if felt like all freakin' day!

Making this short story even shorter? My hallelujah is right where God left it. The doc thinks it's just irritation from my underwear coupled with increased moisture during my period and a yeast infection of the skin (EEEWWWWWWW!!!) that led to a little rawness. She prescribed some generic meds and my lady place was better almost immediately. Thank. Fucking. God.

This seems to boil down to one thing: me being fat. The area has been gently bothering me since I really started packing it on two years ago. Yet another reason to stop eating so many fries.

Momma & A Man

My grandmother, me and mom. 1984, maybe?

I'm a grown woman, but this? This is freaking me out just a little bit.

Last Tuesday I called my mom to see how things were going since HUBS and I saw her on her birthday. Usually when I call my mom there's nothing much to talk about. We discuss her job, how tired she is, my grandmother, and I get health/death updates on everyone. Maybe we talk about a tv show or two, but that's it really. This time, well, I wish we had discussed Prison Break. Even though I hate that show...

See, my mom's been dating. I know! I! Know! I am really happy for her. My dad left her after 22 years in a really crappy way. And that was in 1994; if she's dated at all since then she didn't tell me about it. Now, though, she's been seeing this guy that (follow this carefully) she knew growing up who was a close friend of one of her brothers who now happens to be the in-law of that same brother (i.e. my uncle is married to his friend's sister).

And suddenly, you guys? My mom, she is 16 again. Because when I called her all we talked about for the whole 30 minutes was...this guy!

She must really, really like him. Mom wasn't gushing or anything, but c'mon. Even when I tried to change the subject she worked it back around to the dude. What he looks like (exactly the same as when they were kids). His pets (a bird that talks and a dog - mom, incidentally, hates animals). Where they've gone (Applebee's and his place). What she took to protect herself from him in case he'd gone insane since she'd last seen him 40 years ago (a kitchen knife and $80 so she could catch a cab after killing him).

He even offered to take her to Aruba. Aruba, people! They've been out exactly THREE times as of last week! He wants to fly my mom to a tropical island! For fucks sake, man! Slow down! Of course, mom doesn't fly or take non-grandmother related vacations, but when I asked her she said she'd probably go to Chicago if he asked her. My grandmother, though, said "Girl, if he asks you to go somewhere, you better go! HooHoooo!" Because that's my granny, guys.

The conversation was amazing. I'm not even kidding. When she told me this guy asked her out, I was all "Cool, you should go!" I'm still glad she's doing it, but yeah...it's a bit weird.

Holy fuck cakes...what if I end up with a step-dad!?!?!

Nothing's Easy, Is It?

I did it. I went to bed Tuesday night at 1:15am, which is seriously early for me. The goal here is two-fold: cut back on eating at all hours of the morning by being asleep and start waking up earlier so I can get back on a normal, non-night owl schedule.

You know what happened, right? I set my clock for 11am and could not wake up. I didn't get out of bed until 1:30pm. But, I am undaunted, so I tried again last night. And, seeing as how I got up this morning at NINE O'CLOCK I guess going to bed pre-midnight-thirty finally did the job.

Now, do we take bets on how long it'll be until I need a nap?

Back On Track

I couldn't find a picture that showed how I felt on Sunday. So, here's a shot of HUBS with beach towels on his head. Yay!

By Sunday I was basically done with my period so I started up the exercising again. And, um...I though I was going to die.

No joke, y'all. Eleven minutes in (after a particularly long sequence) my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, my hips hurt, I was sweating profusely and I was sick to my stomach. It was only a week without exercise, people! I am so fucking out of shape. I don't know how, but I managed to slug along through another nine minutes to finish the workout.

It doesn't help that I've been having a really hard time not eating late at night. My goal is always to stop by 10 pm at the latest, but for the past two weeks I've been really bad about snacking. And we're not talking apples or a slice of low-fat cheese here, either. I've been indulging in early a.m. doses of one of my favorite snacks melted peanut butter and milk chocolate chips with animal crackers for dipping.

JESUS, SMITH, AND JONES! It. Is. Sooooooo. GOOOOOOOD!!!!! There were even a couple of nights where I ran out of animal crackers and sucked down the rest of my melted goodness with a spoon. Fuck. I'm bad at this shit.

But, now I'm back with the sweat/heart attack inducing workouts and I (barely) managed to stay up until 3:30 am without eating after 9:30 pm. As you probably guessed, part of the problem here is that I stay up WAY TOO LATE. I mean, if you go to bed at 5 am, there's a lot more time for temptation to settle in and win than if you hit the sack at midnight.

Obviously, I'm trying to go to bed earlier too. Will the missions never cease?

Just For This Week

In accordance with national "Acceptance of Having My Period" week, I've done mostly nothing by way of exercising. I did a couple of loads of laundry on Monday and Tuesday, so I went up and down the stairs a few times. And one day I did some wall push-ups 'cause I was feeling sluggish. But mostly, hell-to-the-no with actual, scheduled exercising.

And I'm just saying...feels pretty good.

By the way, this is a national occasion because if I were in, I don't know, Alabama, I'd still be avoiding physical activity.

That's right, baby.

Money Is Cool!

Due to my financial savvy, HUBS and I are now the proud owners of a $80.73 nest egg. I know! It's like, if there's an emergency now we won't even have to beg for change by the side of the road. We can totally plunk down three Jacksons and be like BOO YAH, BABY! Got it covered.

How about that?

Ick, Ick and More Ick

All right, this one ain't so bad.

Because of all the incidents lately with spiders, I was thinking the other day about all the stuff that freaks/icks me out. And since I love you guys, here's a list:

1) Bugs. By "bugs" I mean anything with more than four legs or less than two. We're talking spiders, centipedes, mosquitoes, dragon flies, worms, maggots, roaches and various other critters. Having said this, some of these are worse than others. I mean, if a cricket landed on my foot briefly I wouldn't like it, but I wouldn't exactly want to kill myself either. But, to be touched by, say, a cockroach? I'm dying just thinking aobut it.

2) Flying things. This is kinda part of #1, except that I have issues with anything with wings. Meaning? Lady bugs, butterflies, moths, birds of all ilk, and airplanes are included. And yes, I understand that butterflies are pretty and lady bugs are harmless (some folks even believe they bring good luck) and the occasional bird can be gorgeous. This does not change their "Holy God!" factor when I'm minding my own business and they suddenly start to circle.

3) Clowns. Let's not pretend that there's no evil under all that makeup. If you've read It by Stephen King or seen the movie...You know just what the fuck I'm talking about.

4) Snails. We came home a couple of night ago to find two of the little slime balls on our porch. Can you believe some people eat these things? How desperate for food do you have to be to see one of these slimy, stalk-eyed blobs and go "Fry it up, Frank. I can't wait for a cow to happen by anymore." Blech...

5) Squid and octopi. Again, people eat this crap. And get all excited about the ink! the ink! God, what is wrong with the world? I can see eating these when you had no choice, but now? Isn't there a McDonald's near you?

6) Raw or rare meat. This disgusts me so that, when cooking, I won't touch raw meat/fish/poultry. I mean it. I use knives, forks, whatever, but will NEVER EVER touch this stuff with bare hands. Also? How do reasonably sane people eat meat running through with blood? I'll tell you how. They. Are. Crazy.

7) Wet hair. If it's attached to your head, fine. If it's circling the drain or hanging off a towel...I'm dry heaving.

8) Sweat. For some reason there are folks who find sweaty people erotic or something. Well, let's get this straight: I don't care how good looking you are, if you're sweaty you stink and if you stink I want no part of you until you clean yourself up. Mmmm'kay?

9) Bodily fluids. No one needs details here, do you? Let me say, though, I don't know how parents do it. With the children and the diapers and the spit-up and the snot...God...Dry...Heave...

10) Dirty bathrooms. Oh Jesus, guys. I have seen some horrendous public bathrooms. Like when I went on a geology field trip in college to some state cave site. The bathroom was literally just a hole in the ground. And there was smoke coming up out of it. What? Really state park? This is the level best you can do? Or at some boardwalk in Florida when I was about 10. There were no stalls, and the ENTIRE BATHROOM (toilets included) was covered in graffiti and...other...things. My mom and I waited about two hours to pee that day.

He Loves Them More Than Me

Again with the critters.

HUBS and I took off for Target in Beesley (his yellow car) last night. I was driving and again I was fighting off a spider on my window. It was on the side-view at first and I tried to kill it, but missed. After rolling up my window and taking off, it wedged itself between the window and the little flap that keeps the window sealed.

Luckily, as long as we kept moving it stayed put. I was actually able to remain calm. There was minimal screaming and absolutely no crying. Yay, me! I mean, until I stopped the car in the parking lot at Target. Then I went insane.

citygirl: Ohhhhhhh, my God it's running get out and kill it get out and kiiiillll ittttt!!!!!!!!

HUBS: Ok, ok. Calm down, I need a napkin or something.

citygirl: AHHHHHHHHHCCKCKCKCKCKCK!! Moving running ACCCKCKCKCKCKAACACACACKKKKK!

HUBS: Alright, geez. I'm out...

Then, you guys, the unthinkable happened. HUBS had a very simple set of instructions: get out of the car, kill the spider. Um...he KNOCKED IT OFF THE CAR. With his precious napkin.

I'm like, what did you just do? You know what happened last week, how the hell do you not JUST KILL THE FUCKING SPIDER? HUBS actually watched it skitter off, to terrorize another day. I bet it crawled back onto his car. Why would it not? Nobody bothered to teach it a lesson, right?

Fine, HUBS. I see how you are. Just wait until the next time you're being attacked by wild dogs or something. Do you think you'll get any dog-killing power outta me? No sir. No sir, not at all...