Easter Sunday

To my absolute horror.

I hope everyone out there who celebrates Easter had a good one this year. Especially since mine kinda sucked.

I was up early, trying to get some things done before HUBS and I had to leave for the two hour trip to his folks in mid-Missouri. I could have sworn we should have some cash in our account left over from his last paycheck. I looked at our account. Not only did we not have anything left over, there wasn't enough to cover all our bills until his next pay day.

We'd be about $400 short. Having already paid some of last months bills with one of my credit cards I felt absolutely desperate and panicked. I called the only person I could think to: my mom.

I called on the pretense of only wishing her a Happy Easter, just so I could back out of asking for money if I needed to. She asked how I was and I broke down. I told her about not getting unemployment for the past 6 weeks and that we had no money to pay our bills and that we've been living off my credit cards and that we never have money for groceries. Stuff I had been avoiding telling her because I was hoping it would get better; hoping it wouldn't come to this.

PT told me it would be ok and to stop crying. She asked how much I needed and I told her. She said to calm down and come over.

I didn't feel like putting on clothes, but I knew this unplanned trip would make us late for HUBS' parents, so I did. HUBS was still in bed, I told him I was running to my mom's, kissed him quickly and left. I cried most of the way there.

PT hugged me when I got there. And, I started crying again. Shit, it was days ago now and I'm crying again thinking about the fact that I'm 34 and married and had to ask my mom for money.

She gave us far more than the 400 bucks I asked for. I protested, but took it anyway when she kept counting money out to me. PT tried to cheer me up by telling me that everybody goes through hard times and that right now this is just what I need to deal with. She also revealed that she was without a job for 2 years in the '70s. I figure this was when she was still at home with my grandmother but basically grown.

I thanked PT a lot and left about a half hour after getting there. I cried on the way home, then put a large portion of the cash in the bank.

All of this is a long way of saying that my Easter felt totally fucked. I then had to go to HUBS' family and pretend to be happy that Jesus was risen and I was with his folks, even though all I wanted to do was scream and curl up into a little ball and cry myself tired.

Revelation

I was reading this today and I think I had a breakthrough.

Maybe I can't find a job because that's not what I want. I had "a job" and hated it for 8 of the 9 years and 5 months I was there - no matter what I did. I left that place because I wanted more than just "a job." I wanted to enjoy my work. I wanted to actually use my brain and talents. I wanted freedom. I wanted better money for work I enjoyed and couldn't wait to do.

So, if this is my block to finding work, what does it mean? We need money, another real income, but I will never be happy with "a job." What do I do? Do I stop praying for exactly the thing I don't want (because the Universe knows I don't really want it anyway)? Do I go back to praying for meaningful work I can enjoy? Even if it means I don't work again for another year?

What the hell do I do???

How Could I Have Known?

How I feel: I'm stuck in a tree with my tail in the air and I'm flashing my big orange balls to the world.

Remember how I said I made a huge mistake last Wednesday, without any clue it was going to be a mistake? Well, not only did I not realize I was about to do something stupid, I actually thought I was going to be helping our financial situation. Here goes...

After calling Citibank (they still haven't called me back, by the way) I was feeling bold and decided to do something I'd been meaning to do for a couple months. I called our bank to see about lowering the interest rate on our credit card with them. The only reason we even have the card is because we kept overdrawing our bank account due to my unemployment and getting the card was the only way to have overdraft protection. If your account gets low, they give you a cash advance from the card to cover your checks/payments/bills/what-have-you.

So, this card now has an almost $2500 balance. We pay $20 a week and the interest rate fluctuates between 20% and an astronomical 65% (no, I am not exaggerating). Here, much to my dismay, is what happened:

citygirl: Yeah, I wanted to see if we could lower our interest rate.

credit card bank lady: Ok, let me ask you some financial questions.

ccbl: (after questions about our jobs and income) Alright, I can't lower your interest rate right now because you're only using the card for cash advances. But, I have to tell you that I did lower your credit limit to $2500.

citygirl: Ok...Wait...What?

ccbl: I had to lower the credit limit on the card. With your lack of income right now I can't justify having any more money put on this card. If things change you can always call and ask to have the limit raised.

citygirl: So...Wait. You're saying we now only have $84 left on this card, because you reduced our $8000 limit to $2500, which is right near our current balance. So we have no more cushion?

ccbl: Yes. I'm sorry, it's just not good business for us to have you use this card any more.

citygirl: Ok. Ok...Bye?

I think she may have apologized again before hanging up. So, let me break down what just happened. HUBS and I used to have a cushion if we were running out of money in our bank account to pay for stuff. Now...We don't. All because I just wanted to lower our ridiculous interest rate. That bitch at the credit card took away the cushion. Now if we overdraw our account it'll be just like old times: a $35 charge for going over + whatever the amount is we were trying to pay. Yay!

I managed to remain calm until I got off the phone. And then I started to panic. I called HUBS to let him know what happened and apologized, "How could you have known?" he said.

The more I talked to HUBS the angrier I got and the more I wished I had cursed out the ccbl. No, it wouldn't have done any good, but what did I have to lose at that point? I have literally been daydreaming, all week since then, about the things I should have said to that heifer. Times like these are exactly why God did not give me the power of a witch, because that woman would now be newly unemployed and homeless and if she has a husband he'd be unemployed too. Also, I think I'd make her bald and fat and toothless for good measure.

Holy Jesus, my heart is racing now thinking about it again. All of our credit cards are almost maxed out and now if we overdraw the account we'll just be totally fucked.

To All The Chinese Food Restaurants

Blech. Why couldn't I find a single picture of baby corn looking evil in 7 pages of google image search? It is evil, you know...

Dear Chinese Restaurant Chefs,

Listen up, people. Stop putting baby corn in all your dishes like it's a vegetable. It's not. As far as I'm concerned, it's an abomination. I know it looks like a tiny corn cob, but A) it doesn't actually taste like corn B) it's stupid and C) it makes me feel like a giant, and I don't appreciate that at all baby corn(fucker).

So, stop it already!

Sincerely Yours
citygirl

Do You Know Where You're Going To?

Again with Wednesdays. I have been without unemployment for three weeks and we are suffering financially. I decided to call the UE people again and see what I could do to clear this shit up so I can actually get the money in my UE account.

I was determined to stay calm. This was the first time in a long while that I got a black lady on the phone. She told me the longest part of the review program was over, so that's good. I asked who I could talk to to finally take care of this, and here's how it went:

UE black lady: No one. I'm sorry, but there's a whole process to this and there were people ahead of you. But the longest part of the review is over, so someone should call you any day now and that'll be it.

citygirl: Ok, so, you're sure I can't just talk to somebody and end this right now? I mean, I have no money and I can't find a job and we can't pay our bills. (crying now) I worked for 10 years at one place and I applied at Target and Best Buy but they won't hire me. No one will. I don't know what to do.

UE black lady: Oh honey, I understand, I like to be proactive too and take care of things any way possible as soon as possible, but there's just no way.

citygirl: (crying harder now) See, this started because when I applied for my new extension I answered one stupid question wrong and instead of listing my last full time job I listed my stupid freelance job because they were the last people to pay me. There wasn't a place for me to explain my situation. They wanted all these blanket answers...

UE black lady: Oh, yeah. That'll do it. Anytime there's different information it flags the system and then they have to go through all the reviews and it just takes as long as it takes.

citygirl: (sobbing) So, I have to wait? And, by the time they get everything cleared up I could be out of my house and on the streets. That's how this works?

UE black lady: I am so sorry, but you really can't do anything. I know it seems like we don't care, but we have a process for everything and we have to follow it. Listen, just live your life. Enjoy your family and your friends and live your life. You will be alright. Ok? I'm going to pray for you. You'll be alright.

citygirl: (sobbing and dissolving simultaneously, it's really fun - you should try it) Um (deep breath so I can keep speaking), ok. Ok. Thanks for (more deep breathing) talking to me. Bye.

UE black lady: No problem, sweetheart. Bye, now.

See? This is what I'm talking about. Even though I was crying and hurting and angry she managed to somehow make it a little bit better. This black lady should train all the other UE phone people on how to talk to the distressed unemployed, and she should get a ton of money to do it, too. She may not actually care, but she was able to make it sound like she did. Her voice was calm and clear and she never sounded irritated, rushed or frustrated with me. I love you, UE black lady.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After our conversation I got proactive. I looked around for paid online survey companies and signed up. I made a list of places I haven't applied to that I need to look into. I called Citibank and asked for help with our currently $400+ monthly bill and they're scheduled to call me back today with a new payment plan. I vacuumed every room and the baseboards and even got up all the random cat fluff along the walls that the vacuum doesn't usually get.

I was on a roll. And then I did something stupid. Without any idea that it was going to be stupid.

More on that later.

editor's note: Why is it that when I type "black angel" into a google image search I get all the demonic, scary pictures? Why was it necessary for me to type in "african american angel"? I swear, white people kill me...

Since I Need To Chill

I've made a decision about this here ol' blog o' mine. I'm going to try not to bitch every day. Considering the crap that's going on around here with my no-job-having-no-unemployment-getting-fucked-up-credit-card self, the (I hope) understandable temptation is to blog-bitch day in and day the fuck out. But...

I need some way to relax a bit. A way to push the world away and laugh again. And so do you, fair reader. So, I'll get back to bitching tomorrow (do I ever have a story to tell about today), but until then, enjoy this:

Wednesday Was Bad

This is how my mind feels. See those bright spots? That's my anger.

I have now gone two weeks without getting my unemployment benefits. HUBS and I have no money, he got paid on the 13th and after bills (which hit within a few days) we had $50 left in our account. I reluctantly moved most of the money I've been scraping to save ($10 a week since last August, which amounted to almost $300)into our account to take care of the mountain of additional bills that we'll need to pay before he gets paid again.

Why am I not getting my UE money, even though I have a balance in there, you ask? The short answer is that when I filed to get this new extension I fucked up ONE GODDAMN QUESTION. The UE people freaked out, called me twice (in conversations that totalled almost an hour) with bullshit questions I'd already answered and now my case has to go to committee before I can get anymore money.

The first UE conversation was Monday. I talked to that heifer for half an hour. Then Wednesday another chick called me with even more questions. She was trying to explain something to me, but it made no fucking sense so I told her that. Then I began to cry, curse and screamed something to her like "I've been unemployed for 14 months so give me my fucking money so I can pay my fucking bills!" and hung up the phone.

HUBS had been sleeping in (he took a sick day), but he came out to try to comfort me. After he kissed me on the head I threw my mug filled with ice water across the room and smashed a ceramic coaster against a bookcase when I threw that too.

I then went into the bedroom where HUBS had retreated to protect himself from flying objects and screamed. Louder than I've screamed since I had my nervous breakdown in college.

"Do you know I applied at Target," I asked HUBS in the scariest voice ever. "And they sent me an email turning me down? I worked at the same company for almost 10 years and I can't get a fucking job at Target. But every fucking 15 year old in the fucking country can walk into the store and get a job. What the fuck did I do wrong? This feels personal. Like the universe is really, specifically fucking with ME."

I'm starting to wonder if I'm supposed to be doing something special with this time, and that's why I can't get a job yet. It's as if the powers that be have given me this time, but I can't get over, you know, not having enough money for food and bills and stuff to get out of my head and figure out what I'm supposed to be fucking doing.

I seem to have a knack for doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. And not being able to make the best of it. At. All.

No Contest!

How I hope to look soon. Minus the white, male, stupid pants part.

In these dark times I've found I need something to make me happy. Something that makes me feel like I'm working and doing and having a positive impact on my own life. What did I rediscover recently? Contests.

Back when I was a miserably employed receptionist who got things done quickly (or had nothing to do and was bored) and needed to look like I was busy, I discovered online contests. Coworkers and employers would see me typing away and believe I was working my ass off. In reality I was entering my name, address and email so I could win a set of Buffy the Vampire Slayer dvds, Trivial Pursuit games and makeup.

I did, in fact, win those things and more. Merchandise from tv shows, several dvds, body products, on and on. Everyday, without fail, I spent at least an hour with my contests. Then I (I thought) moved up in the company. I was a full fledged administrative assistant with little free time behind my desk, so I abandoned my efforts.

Then, a couple weeks ago, I decided to revisit one of my old sweeps haunts that still resides in my home favorites menu. Holy crap, they had some good stuff. So I entered. And now, I'm addicted again. I concentrate on sweeps where I can win money (we need it so bad) or products that I can easily sell or reasonably use.

It's amazing how much entering makes me feel proactive. More so than applying for jobs, or reworking my resume even.

Wish me luck.

The Good News

To all the fuckers who refuse to hire me: MY WORK IS IN THIS BOOK, BITCHES!!!

I forgot to tell you guys that I finally got the book where some of my writing and photos were published for winning that photo contest. I wasn't expecting the stuff until middle of the month but I got the package on Monday the 2nd. Very fast!


Part of the prize was this camera. It has my NAME ON IT. EEEEEEEEEEE!!! DianaF+ Colette Edition

I don't know how many of you have wanted to have your writing/art published and had it happen for you, but this was awesome! I've had stories published in local things before, but this is a book. Anyone in the world could buy it and see my words and my photography. When I saw it, I cried a little. And I'm such a sap that I'm crying a little now just thinking about that moment again.

I had completely forgotten to tell my mom about the whole contest thing, when I told her about all the cool stuff: camera with my name on it, words and photos in a published book, pics on display at a store in Paris (Colette is a French clothing store that co-sponsored the contest)...Well PT just kept saying how proud she was of me.

There's some cool stuff in this book. My essay and photos were dedicated to my pitiful lack of employment. I was so pleasantly surprised when I won. I've got four pages in the book, which amounted to a total of 10 photographs published. Here's a sample:


I'm still kicking myself for forgetting to include my photoblog address in my bio.

Despite the fact that my unemployment checks are in jeopardy yet again, this my friends, is my one glimmer of hope.


editor's note: I really need to cut my fingernails...It's gettin' kinda hard to type.

Sex and Popcorn

You know, I've had quite the fuzzy-headed day. I woke up insanely early for an unemployed person (7:27 am), because I had to try to get through to the MO unemployment people. I did not get my money this week, I got a letter saying they had some questions and would call me Monday. But, I wanted to try to get this ball rolling again ASAP.

Guess what? After getting up early, holding for about 10 minutes (not that bad for them) and talking to a chick, I still have no idea what the problem is. I have to wait for the call on Monday. I'm pretty nervous about this, especially since the phone chick was all "Wow, they usually don't need more info for an extension. I really don't know what this could be", after I read her the letter they sent. Thanks MO UE chick, I'm pretty sure I'd be tons better at your job than you.

I stayed up for a bit, playing online, eating biscuits and doing a load of laundry. Then I got into bed with a couple Shape magazines I needed to return to the library today with HUBS still asleep (he took today off). I now realize again why I can't read Shape and Self. Too many bitches losing weight and keeping it off. It's depressing.

You know what's been bugging me for almost a month now? My tailbone. After sitting in bed or on the couch too long it starts to hurt like hell. What does that mean? And who the fuck do I call to get it to stop?

Here's how the rest of my day went:

read magazines
slept
ate lunch
napped on couch
returned things to library right before close
took cash out of atm so i can pay therapist tomorrow and hair dresser next weekend
watched McClintock! with HUBS and discovered it was ass
had MADHOT SEX SEX SEXY TIME
ate Orville Redenbacher Buttery Salt and Pepper popcorn
blog
made HUBS make us french fries...

Now! HUBS, make fries NOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!

Come On, People!

So, I picked up the trash in my yard today. You know what? There should not be trash in my yard. Especially not as much as there usually is. Have we stopped teaching children to use trash cans around here? Were they not taught to respect other people's property, or nature or themselves for fuck's sake?

Apparently not. Do you know how many empty bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos I picked up? How many bare chicken bones? Tell you what. Why don't you stay at home with your paper plates, nacho chips, gummy bears, beer cans, grocery bags, dog biscuits and Styrofoam containers.

Idiots...

No. I...Am DONE.

What I will no longer be wearing.

Ok, people. I've had it. I will never, ever again succumb to the idea that a "body shaper" can be at all comfortable and actually keep my rolls in check.

I managed to avoid these things until I bought one last summer (at my mom's suggestion) to wear under my wedding dress. It was expensive and horrible and after having it on for roughly 2.6 seconds I ripped it off and returned it to the store.

Now, HUBS and I were in Target the other day and I found some cool Mossimo trouser-style jeans for only 20 bucks. They fit, but my thighs look a bit lumpalicious in the crotch-to-thigh area. I decided to try the Assets line of body shaper. It's by the same chick who created Spanx, but it's much cheaper.

I tried it on today, and, you know what? It's ass. Total ass. The package (and website, for that matter) promise that this shit is comfy and will hold your blubbery bullshit in. But none of that is even remotely true.

First of all, it was a bitch and a 1/2 to put on. I actually broke into a sweat pulling the thing on. When I finally got it up, it rolled down once it hit my back fat. Big no-no. Then, I looked in the mirror. And what did I see? Everything. Every roll and flab pocket was just as exposed as if I were naked. This crap held NOTHING IN.

Why did I not pay attention to the package? I appreciate that she makes a wide range of sizes but let's be honest. The only bitches I ever see on the packs of these things are skinny hoes with (maybe) a little stomach pooch or a couple of unfortunate ass ripples. This shit is simply not made for serious rolls and creator chick should just come out and say it instead of giving us hope by making big sizes.

There. Me? Utterly finished with ass-wipe "shapewear".

Currently...

I think this is the one we call Chester (we've got about 7 orange cats running around here).

I'm pretty sure my main purpose in life is to feed my neighborhood strays. And you know what? I feel so unappreciated in general (mostly by people who could give me a job) that seeing them run out of their hiding places to greet me really makes my day most times. Especially when I don't even have food for them.

Yeah. Especially then.

Opportunities: All Dried Up

I've had a long and stressful two weeks since HUBS' birthday. Let's start with the first issue, shall we?

By Friday the 13th I was dangerously close to my unemployment running out and not knowing yet if I was getting another extension. (The geniuses at the Missouri unemployment office refuse to tell you if you get an extension until your current balance runs out. So, if you, like I did, have $64 left in your account, you won't be able to find out if you get more help until that pitiful-non-bill-paying money has been given to you, leaving no time to scramble for anything that pays. Fuckers.)

I decided to use my ace-in-the-hole and called the temp agency I signed up with in November. Here's how that went:

citygirl: I signed with you a couple months ago and wanted to start working.

agency chick: Ok. What kind of salary were you looking for?

citygirl: Fifteen dollars an hour.

agency chick: Oh, well, we don't have anything at that rate right now.

citygirl: Alright. What do you have now?

agency chick: We've got customer service jobs for $8 an hour.

citygirl: Oh...Uh...Well...Wow...That's less than I get from unemployment...And I can barely pay my bills now...(has stroke, panic attack and wets herself simultaneously)

I think I managed to finish with something about calling them back if I change my mind and hanging up quickly. What the fuck, y'all? I started shaking and began to cry hysterically. What the hell do I do now?

I called HUBS at work, still crying. He tried to calm me down, like always, but it didn't work. All I could think was, I had a job and left it, what the shit did I do to myself?

The following Monday I applied for a bunch of jobs through Office Team. They called me in for their testapalooza which lasted for 2 or 3 hours just like at the other temp agency. I lowered my asking price to $10 an hour, the equivalent of my unemployment. Again, I did good on everything. I called this Monday to get work. They said they'd call when they had something for me.

It's Friday at 3:47 pm. Guess who hasn't gotten a call fucking yet?

Luckily, I did get a 13 week unemployment extension.

Every time I have hope it just blows away in the winter wind.

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.