Totally Awkward Tuesday

For the original Totally Awkward Tuesday, visit Tova Darling.

I have to give a shout out to Mjenks and his birthday post to his wife and daughter that is totally not family friendly! When I read that, it made me remember this little incident.

I had been dating a guy I'll call RJ (the R standing for Redneck) for about 9 months when he asked me to marry him. Even though he was pretty rough around the edges, I thought I was in love with him. He and my two year old son were definitely in love with each other, that sweetened the deal. I was living with my sister at the time, so when one of his father's rental properties opened up in the next town the next logical step seemed to be for us to move in together.

I loved the house we moved into, which was actually a little shit hole, but it was out in the middle of nowhere. The yard backed right into a huge state park, where it was not unusual for deer and coyotes to wander through, and you couldn't see or hear the neighbors because the houses were spaced so far apart. We even had moose and black bear sightings in our town. I'm a city girl, it took a little getting used to.

When I say RJ was a redneck, I'm not joking. He was a tobacco chewin', beer drinkin', gun totin', big truck drivin', gramatically challenged, pee off the back deck kind of guy. His parents had worked hard and made some money, but they were also salt of the earth, just plain nice people. I really liked them, and his sisters, and they welcomed me and my son into their family with open arms.

The night we moved in, his parents came over with a plant and some beer, making sure everything went smoothly for us. I thought that was really kind. RJ's friends had helped us move, and then we went to a local pub where we paid them back in beer and pub food. I had an overnight sitter and didn't have to be anywhere too early the next day. We were too tired the night of the move, and possibly too inebriated, to christen the house properly. That wasn't the case when we woke up the next morning.

We started doing the things a young couple does the first morning in their new home when they have an overnight sitter and the whole house to themselves. And because we were alone for possibly the first time ever, we didn't bother closing the bedroom door or being particularly quiet about what we were doing. Until I heard a noise. Not a being in the middle of the woods noise, a noise inside the house.

"RJ, did you hear that?" He was too busy, and hadn't heard anything. He got me to focus again on the task at hand for a short while until I heard the noise again. "RJ, I swear I heard something!" He tried to convince me it was just the cats, but I knew my cats weren't heavy enough to make the stairs leading up from the locked front door into the living area creak. The mood was lost for me and I made him get up to investigate. I had images of bears in our living room, or at the very least rabid raccoons who could manipulate a locked door.

The first thing RJ did was check the bedroom window that looked out on the driveway. He looked at me all confused and said, "my father's truck is in the driveway". I threw on a bathrobe and went out into the hallway leading to the living area - sure enough there was his father standing at the top of the stairs with a big shit-eatin' grin on his face.

RJ trailed behind me in his boxers and we exchanged good-mornings. RJ and his father were now both wearing shit-eatin' grins - my face was an unusual shade of pink. I offered his father a cup of coffee, but he just held up his hand that already had a Dunkin' Donuts cup in it. He said he was just stopping by to make sure things had gone okay with the move, which I was pretty sure we had already established the evening before. He said that he had knocked on the door, but we obviously didn't hear it. And then he just stood there grinning at us. When the silence and awkwardness threatened to become overbearing, I announced I was headed for the shower and turned and walked back down the hallway.

I heard RJ and his father saying goodbye, and his father walking down the stairs. Then I heard what I assumed was the front door opening. My mortification quickly turned to anger - I don't if any of you know, but I have a little bit of a temper.

I whipped open the bathroom door and confronted RJ with "You have to nip this in the bud, NOW! Just because he has a key DOES NOT mean he has the right to let himself in when he knocks on the door and doesn't get an answer! For God's sake, it's 9:00 on a Saturday morning! We have a right to our privacy! How long was he standing there listening to us having sex after letting himself into our house - And Still Didn't Leave?! Dude, that's weird! I will not live like this, wondering when your parents are just going to let themselves in to our home! You had better take care of this, or I will!"

RJ just stared at me open mouthed while I again heard a door downstairs open and close. RJ knew, but hadn't gotten the chance to tell me that his father was going into the basement to check the dehumidifier before he left. So, he not only heard us having sex, he heard me totally bitch his son out about him.

It was awkward in the extreme at the time, and especially awkward at every gathering after that as they made it the running family joke. His parents never showed up without calling first after that.

I feel for you

Have you met Chaka?

I only recently started reading his blog, but I know what I like when I see it. He's smart and he's funny. Also, if he's to be believed, he's extremely proficient at reproducing. (Really Chaka, 9?!)

Anyway, he's kinda bummed that he doesn't have more followers. Actually it seems as though he is seriously bummed about the situation, because he has let it be known that if he doesn't get 100 followers before the end of July, he's shutting the place down.

I think that would be a shame, especially since I just found him. If you are not already one of his followers, would you click the above link and check out his blog? If you like what you see (and I think you will) and decide to follow him, make sure you tell him Fancy sent you. I like to help my fellow bloggers out, it has nothing to do with the fact that he dangled the idea of a prize in front of me.

*I hope it's shiny, and not one of his children*

For some reason, every time I see his name I think of this:

I have babies

Who knew I could have babies, at my age. They are so cute, I could just eat them up, but I'm going to give them some more time to grow, first.

I honestly did not know how it would turn out. Would these babies grow in a potentially hostile environment? Would the temperature ever go above 80 degrees? Would it ever stop fucking raining? It was iffy, and it still is with some of them - I doubt the eggplants are going to make it. But everything else is growing and throwing blooms! Even the tomatoes are getting ready to flower.

I'm so excited, which is ridiculous considering everyone in the country, outside of New England, is already eating straight from their garden. I'll take what I can get, because I really enjoy the process. Will you look how pretty my babies are?

RIP, Jacko

To make up for the totally tasteless post I left ab0ut Michael Jackson last night, please read a post I did about him last March. Click here.

Holy crap

First Ed McMahon died, then Farrah Fawcett. Someone at work today said they come in threes. Who would have thought it would be Michael Jackson, from a heart attack?

Not a real good week for celebrities, huh?

I'm seriously shocked about Michael Jackson, for many reasons. The first is that he was 50, he doesn't look a day older than - when he was a black person. The second is that his heart withstood that much abuse for over 40 years. The third is that he died in the United States (didn't we ban him from our country or something?). The fourth is that he didn't die during sex like many men do. Their little hearts just give out during sex, especially when they are having sex with little boys.

What, too soon?

Happy Birthday, Meghann

Today is one of my darling niece's birthdays. I am so lucky that my sisters had daughters for me to fawn over, without me having to deal with their teenage histrionics. As the youngest of the siblings, I first became an Aunt when I was 11, and then again when I was 14. I always felt very close to my older niece, KM; but I didn't really feel like I became an Auntie to my younger niece, Meghann, until recently.

The weirdest part about that is this young woman is more like me than a daughter of my own could possibly have been. I adore her. She is her own person, not ever compromising her personality or her beliefs for anyone, anytime or anywhere. She has been that way since she was a toddler.

Of course, back then we just called her stubborn. Now we call her that tree-hugging, granola-crunching, Birkenstock-wearing, hippie-chick. I'm just kidding, we only call her that behind her back... But, for real, she has a tattoo of a tree on her foot. Her FOOT! It is fucking awesome!

Two years ago when her mother moved out of state, I started having her over once a week for dinner. I wanted to get to know her better, and I wanted her to have someone in the area that she could go to if she needed it. Turns out, I rely on her a lot now also. I'm not the only one, she is like my son's older sister. His first word wasn't Mama, it was "Eggy". The bond between them is strong.

Megallah, I love you more than I can measure. I'm grateful for the time we have shared over the past couple of years. You're like a daughter from another mother. I love that we share a love of food and cooking, both of our passions. Thank you for letting me into your life and letting Tuesday Night Dinner become much more than just dinner.

I think I can safely speak for all of us when I also say thank you for not burping once at your birthday dinner this week. And, good call on asking me to make an untried recipe called Shrimp Limone with pasta and asparagus - holy mother of God that was delicious!

Meghann gave me permission to share some photos from her childhood, but she didn't get to approve them, ha-ha. I decided not to post anything more recent than about 16 years ago, so unfortunately you cannot see what a beauty she has become (unless you know me on Facebook, of course).


I call this one "Elfen Magic" (would you look at those adorable baby rolls?!)


Always with the tongue hanging out


Did Auntie give you a bunny for Easter?


Auntie also made you a tie-dye for Easter, your Mommy let you wear it for your second birthday


Sweet, fearless girl holding Auntie's python (yes, that was my real python)


Professional photo shoot, she wanted to wear Auntie's hat


The first night of Desert Storm (she's saluting)


1993 visiting Auntie when I lived in The Keys (I think she was practicing her Thriller moves)


The southern most point in the continental United States, Key West (me on the right, my sister Bouf on the left)


October, 1993 with Auntie at the pumpkin patch (I don't know where she got that sticking her tongue out thing)

Why, yes, I am a judgemental bitch! Thanks for noticing!

Have you ever heard the phrase, "when you are pointing a finger at someone else, four more are pointing back at you"? I'm willing to take that risk with this post.

There's a guy at work, I'm going to call him Lou, that just bought his first house. Lou is rough and gruff, and often socially unacceptable. He'll tell you the truth as he sees it whether you ask for it or not. He works out in the shop, and is the kind of guy that you can't imagine in anything other than a tee shirt and jeans, usually dirty, with the jeans always falling off his ass and him hitching them up. I've never seen him with clean hands, and I've never seen him not in motion. He doesn't make a lot of money, and he works hard for it. His wit and humor are almost as quick as his temper. But his heart is pure gold and the size of Texas (provided you stay on his good side, of course).

He's the kind of guy that will bend over backward to help you anytime you need it, no matter what you need. He might grumble a little bit about it, but he gets it done. I'm not just talking about stuff at work, he doesn't see a line in the sand like that. If you need something personally and he can do it, he will. He won't take anything for his help, either, although he has been known to accept any kind of chocolate as repayment.

When there are leftovers in large quantities at any kind of work function, he's the kind of guy that will ask if he can take them to the battered women and children shelter. He personally donates his own free-from-the-company turkey to the shelter every Thanksgiving, and asks if he can take any of the extras to them, also.

He's the kind of guy that has faced many personal demons and has beat them into submission. He may still be haunted by them, but he uses humor to get past that. I admire and respect him for that.

I'd put him in his early 50's, and he's been saving for years and years to be able to buy his own house. A few years ago, he had a set-back where he used his savings to rescue his only child legally. His kid repayed him by moving up to Maine and never paying him back. Then, 2 years ago, Lou had a heart attack. He went through all of his sick time, vacation time, and short term benefits. Then he went through most of what he had started saving again just to survive and pay the medical bills.

When Lou told me early last month that he had finally found a fixer-upper and made an offer on it, I was so happy for him. All he has wanted for so long was to own his own home. He made jokes like, "did you know when you buy your own house, you have to buy curtains and blinds and stuff, too?". I bit, and said, "Lou, don't you have curtains in the apartment you're in that you can bring with you?". Turned out he has been living in a basement apartment for eight years with only those 2x3 basement windows, he has never needed curtains or blinds before.

Lou decided that he was going to just move in, and let the neighbors take up a collection amongst themselves. "After a couple of weeks of me living there, they are going to pay me to put up blinds!" Like I said, he's pretty funny.

I took up a collection at work to give him a house-warming type of gift card that he could use. I got permission to send out an email to the office (about 20 of us) and the field (about another 40 people) asking for donations for Lou for his new home. I'm not a pushy "in your face" type of donation collector, either. I'm more of a "it's your personal choice if you decide to donate toward a cause" person. Everyone's financial situation's and personal beliefs are their own. No hard feelings.

I guess I knew Lou better than some people did, and maybe my idea of helping him wasn't what other people had in mind. I won't even go into some of the negative comments that were made. Those people have their right to their personal opinions.

I had gotten quite a few responses that people wanted to contribute, but they didn't actually come through with the money right away. So I delayed it by one week, even though Lou had closed on the house the first week of June. I sent out a reminder email, and got a few more stragglers. I waited one more week, and then gave up. Out of all those people, I had only collected $150. I was disappointed, but I had done all that I could. I wasn't going to hound people about it, that's just bad taste.

I anonymously put a card and the cash in Lou's mail box yesterday. The card was a simple congrats on your new home thing, and I put in block lettering, "from your friends at (our company)". I decided to go the cash route because basically every appliance he had been counting on had failed as soon as he moved in. The seller had really taken him for a ride. I chose not to have just the contributors sign the card because I didn't want him to know who did and who didn't contribute.

Since Lou didn't know who to thank, he paged over the loudspeaker system, "Thanks, everyone, for the card!". When you page in our office, each individual phone is also a loudspeaker, and you can see who is sending out the page. Instead of responding to him personally at his phone, at least four people paged the whole office saying, "You're welcome". Which was probably supposed to be funny. Except two of those fuckers hadn't even contributed.

I was livid. LIVID! How dare you say "You are welcome" when you didn't contribute, you fucking scumbag? Some people gave $5, some people gave $10, some people even gave $20. You didn't give one fucking cent and you're going to try to take any fucking credit? Are you kidding me? You are the lowest of the low, the slimiest of the slimy. I wouldn't touch you with a 39 and a half foot pole.

I am too much of a professional to confront them on it, but I will not forget it. Maybe I need to get a life. Getting this upset over something that happened at work is not healthy. What it comes down to is that I still want to believe the best in everyone. I actually think that might be a good sign. I haven't evolved completely into a horrible cynic who only expects the worst, and every time I am confronted by the pond-sucking bottom-dwellers, it pisses me off.

Anger is better than laying down and rolling over, right? Or should I be striving toward not even letting things like this bother me in the first place? Hard telling, not knowing.

Causing a Scene

I was talking to someone at work about that Hammertime video I last posted, and he started telling me about a performance art group called Improv Everywhere. He suggested I go to You Tube and look up the one he really liked where a group of people just froze for a couple of minutes in the middle of Grand Central Station. I found that one and enjoyed it and then went to their website and found the following video (and a lot more cool stuff!).

This is just amazing stuff. They made these people's day and gave them a story to tell about their wedding day for the rest of their lives. It's really touching. After watching the video, go here for the back story and more pictures.

I seriously love this

This makes me smile every time I see it:

Wordless Wednesday - A rose by any other name... is still just a fucking rose, man

You know you live on a busy road

You know you live on a busy road when the Ice Cream Truck is willing to pull into your driveway.



My son and nieces were willing to cross the busy road to a side street, but the driver was more than happy to try keep them safe. I ran upstairs to grab my camera, and when I came outside everyone had some ice cream, and were happy to have their pictures taken. Or at least they didn't grumble too much. Of course, I got pics of the kids that I won't show here, but I wish I could. Even the driver got in on it! What a nice guy!

Dear Jon Stories, part 11

For part 10, click here.

When I left off on part 9, I was on my parent's front porch when Jon told me that he was already on his way back to New Jersey to his wife and family. This was around 3:00 in the afternoon on Labor Day, 2001, and I already had a really good buzz on. Most of the rest of the next week is still a blur to me, but here is some of the ridiculousness I either remember, have been told, or have pieced together.

From the front porch, I ranted and raved at Jon on the phone. I told him that I forbade him to go back to his wife, and he better turn his car around right now and come back to me. And then I selfishly ran out in the middle of a family picnic yelling, "will someone please bring J (my 7 year old son) home for me?". My mother asked if all was okay and I told her that Jon had left me to go back to his wife, that was all I told them before abandoning my kid and taking off. I didn't even wait to see if it was convenient for anyone to drive my son home. I couldn't stay a minute longer.

When I got home, revenge was on my mind. Well, revenge and more drinking, of course. I was sending messages from my email to his phone, to his email, I was crazed. I only had dial-up internet access back then, so nobody could even call me if they needed to get through to tell me there was a problem with my son, I just never even thought about it.

I started sending Jon's wife copies of every saved email between he and I. That was my twisted idea of payback for everything that I thought she had put me through. I wanted her to see how much Jon and I loved each other, and I deliberately wanted to hurt her. Apparently, I didn't feel like I had hurt her enough, already. Please don't ask what the fuck I was thinking, because I obviously wasn't thinking clearly.

I don't think I've told before now the ridiculous amount of emails Jon and I had sent to each other, nor the special emphasis we had put on certain things. Anything dealing with Shakespeare, lighthouses, or the Dave Matthews Band had extra-special super-duper secret-handshake meaning between the two of us. We acted like children the way we carried on with silly codes and special importance on what turned out to be basically nothing.

Smart bitch that Lily was, she pretty much scoffed at it all as fool's play. Which is what it was, I just didn't recognize it at the time. I was 30 years old and acting like a love-sick teenager, because no one had ever before been in love as deeply as I was.

Labor Day evening, someone in my family was kind enough to bring my son home to me. Again, it is all a blur for the rest of that week. I was on a serious binge. I didn't go to work, and I'm not sure who brought the boy to school. It might have been me, it might have been my cousin who lived with me. I know for sure that people were picking him up for me, because I was definitely too drunk for that. I don't even remember how I was getting the alcohol, but I'm pretty sure no one was enabling me. I might have been dropping the boy off to school and then hitting up the liquor store on my way home. There was also a store in the area that would occasionally deliver and take a check.

One thing I remember for certain on Labor Day after I got my son to bed was getting off the internet because Jon wasn't responding to me. I called his cell, which he did not pick up, so around 10:30 pm I called the home phone in New Jersey. Their 10 year old daughter picked up. Even I knew that it was a bad idea to ask for her Daddy - I hung up. I will forever wonder what the fuck they were thinking. I found out after that they had caller ID. The daughter knew it was me, and they still let her answer the phone - at 10:30pm on a school night.

On Tuesday, my mother came over to check on me mid-afternoon, before she went to the school to pick up my son for me. I'm extremely proud to say that she found me in bed laying in a pool of my own vomit. Ah, good times. She was kind enough to help me take a shower and change my clothes and my sheets before my son came home to see me in that condition. I've never told her how sorry I am that she saw me in that condition.

My mother was also kind enough to call out from work for me that week. All she told them was that I was in "too much pain" to go to work. God bless her, she didn't give them another shred of explanation.

During that week, I was sending out emails and phone calls like a..., well, like a madwoman. Jon and Lily were trying to respond, but my family was screening my calls for me. My family couldn't be there all the time, though, and when I wasn't on the internet I called them myself.

Lily was trying to be magnanimous as she was the woman who had won at that point, and everyone could see that I had flipped my fucking lid. She kept trying to tell me I had to get up and go to work, I had to be strong for my son. When I look back and think about it, I cringe in horror. Here was a woman who's husband had left her for another woman, trying to help the other woman be strong when he left her, too. I'll never forget thoughtlessly saying to her, "but he promised me he would never leave me...". She reminded me that he had taken vows before their family, friends and God that he would never leave her.

By the time Friday rolled around, I had gotten an appointment with my previous therapist. He agreed to give me a return to work date of the following Monday, but he was not accepting new clients, so I had to find a new therapist asap.

By Friday, I had finally stopped crying and started trying to return to normal. And I started getting angry, which was a good thing. I also started cutting back on the drinking. I smashed the acoustic guitar I had bought for him into smithereens. I gathered up everything Jon had left behind into a couple of garbage bags. I smashed picture frames and threw the glass into the garbage bags. Every rose he had ever given me that I hung to dry got crushed and thrown in next. Then I took every bottle of lotion in the house and squirted them all over the inside of those bags. Want your stuff back now, bastard?

That Sunday was my great-niece's baptism. My head was pounding, I was sweating, I was having heart palpitations and having trouble breathing. I had no idea that drinking as heavily as I had for the past week could cause severe withdrawal when you quit cold-turkey. But I stayed sober that day, and went home to try to normalize both mine and my son's life.

While on-line that night after my son went to bed, Jon texted my email from his cell and asked if he could call me. I was insanely curious about what he could possibly have to say and said yes. He called and almost acted like nothing had happened, "What are you doing?". Um, I'm on the phone with you wondering what the fuck you want. What are you doing? He said he was at the grocery store picking up stuff for his kids lunches for the following week. Then he finally got to the point.

"I think I made a mistake."

I was in no mood to be nice to him. "What you made a mistake by not realizing your kids need lunch for school for the next week until after 10:00 on a Sunday night? Because, really, your mistake may have been thinking that you had any parenting skills."

"No" he responded, "I think I made a mistake going back to Lily".

Where my paranoia takes over

I was checking my stat's this morning for giggles, and got freaked out!

Someone stumbled upon my blog two days ago while searching the term Fancy Schmancy in Google. That someone read at least three installments of the Dear Jon Stories.

That someone's computer is logged on in a town in New Jersey where I believe either Lily or Jon resides (I honestly don't know if they ever got back together).

I haven't had contact with these people in over 5 years. What are the odds that one of them would find this blog and these stories? I hadn't thought about that possibility before now. That would be awkward, to say the least. Also, uncomfortable, and a little scary. Please, Lord, let it not be one of their children. I've always had an irrational fear that someday the daughter would confront me. I'm not ready for that, nor do I think I ever will be.

I love popcorn

This would be perfect with some butter, salt and parmesan cheese!

hahaha ur crazy

Warning, shocking news ahead:

Carrie Prejean, now the former Miss California, is a silly little twat.

I just read this on Jezebel, which I found through Gawker. I'm not stealing it, I'm borrowing it for the common good and amusement of my fellow bloggers. I have absolutely nothing to add, it speaks hysterically for itself!

Fox News has apparently obtained a transcript of e-mails suggesting that Carrie Prejean lost her Miss California USA crown for making unauthorized public appearances and generally being incredibly difficult. We translate the exchange from Prejean into English.

A note on the text: Keith Lewis is a Miss California USA pageant director. cprejeanXXXX here denotes Carrie Prejean.

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 07:19:18 -0700To: Carrie PrejeanSubject: FW: Messages

Carrie,

The Style Network has asked to schedule a general meeting. Generals in the entertainment field are an opportunity for casting and producing executives to gain a better understanding of a potential talents range and demeanor in order to consider them for future projects. They are done without a specific agenda. I have had great success with my actors who have taken generals and would suggest you give it strong consideration. You never know where it may lead and sometimes they develop entire shows around you. The following days are available to meet with them here in LA. Please let me know as soon as possible if any of them work for you.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: For some reason we think that the ratio between how interesting you are and how much media attention you have received is not ridiculously unbalanced enough. To remedy this, we want people to develop entire shows around you.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:38 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

What is this for?

Translation: I did not read your e-mail.

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 07:43:45 -0700To: Subject: RE: Messages

Carrie,

It is for a general meeting – please see the explanation below.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: Read my e-mail.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:42 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

Just as you need details for things so do I. Also nice move trying to make money off of my appearances Also.. Do not try and silence me by saying I do not have a comment about the prop 8 ruling. Maybe you don't. I do

Translation: I mistakenly assume that the world needs to hear my opinions on controversial issues. Also, I still did not read your e-mail.

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 07:49:07 -0700To: Subject: RE: Messages

Carrie,

I have given you the details completely. Perhaps it is not something you would like to partake in, either way, you can let me know and I will respond to them today.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: Read my e-mail.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:40 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

I expect you to be forwarding me ALL email requests and interview requests to me. I know how you are and its not right if you are selecting things for me. Thanks for your cooperation And fyi I am a presenter of medals at the special olympics in a few weeks for the summer games. So now u know I am doing this and I expect your full support. Also I was asked to fill in for a dj on a local radio show.. Ill be reading from a show biz script monday. I am doing this

Translation: As my self-absorption increases, my spelling and punctuation decline. Also, I am going to be in "show biz."

From: "Keith Lewis"Date: Fri, 29 May 2009 08:01:35 -0700To: Subject: RE: Messages

Carrie,

As we have discussed, there is proper protocol and we have not waived our rights in any way to your contract. I am happy to try and facilitate the request. Please forward over the information along with the proper contact and we will try and confirm the appearance right away.

Best regards,

Keith Lewis

Translation: It is an enormous strain to continue being polite to you, but I am contractually obligated to keep trying.

From: cprejeanXXXXSent: Friday, May 29, 2009 7:57 AMTo: Keith LewisSubject: Re: Messages

You do not cooperate with me, and you pick and chose the the things YOU want me to do. That is not happening anymore. Stop speaking for me. I have MY own voice. What are u gonna do fire me for volunteering for the special olympics hahaha ur crazy No I am doing this appearance. You do not need details. Its for the SPECIAL OLYMPICS!!! You just need to know I will be doing it alright

You will not facilitate this appearance

Translation: I see no contradiction between my total rudeness to you and my implication that appearing at the Special Olympics makes me a good person. Also, you're not the boss of me. hahaha

Event planners the world over are presumably psyched that Prejean is now released from her contract, and free to bring her charm and politeness to other engagements.

Got Milk?

I don't know what started me thinking about milk this morning, but it's been nagging me all day.

It might have had something to do with Tuesday night dinner when I asked my son and nieces what they would like to drink. Three out of four of them asked for milk. My adult niece was apologetic about even asking for it, which made no sense to me. Her reasoning was that she knows it's expensive and she didn't want to be a drain. I reassured her that "it's the calf over there", pointedly turning my eyes to my son, that is the drain on the milk situation.

I was only half joking. The child drinks at least 3-4 gallons of milk a week. I know it's him because right now it is just he and I in the house, and I cannot remember the last time I voluntarily drank a glass of milk. (For the record, I would rather he drank milk or OJ fortified with calcium than soda or sports drinks, so I'm not really complaining.)

It's funny that my brother was the same way. My mom was a single mother with 5 kids at one point, and we were going through 1-2 gallons of milk A DAY! I remember that she used to try to add water to the milk, or try to fake us out by putting Carnation's instant milk into the milk container. We always knew the difference, and didn't want to drink it. Except my brother, he would just mix in chocolate powder so he couldn't taste it.

I was diagnosed as lactose intolerant right before I turned 20, and I've tried to avoid dairy as much as possible since then. I can tolerate it in small amounts, and I usually try to go for the lower fat versions as they don't seem to affect me as badly. I will eat an occasional yogurt, I will throw a little cheese into a dish that I'm going to eat, but offer me a lasagna with Ricotta AND Mozzarella and I'm going to be in distress for weeks after. Heavy cream and butter are the stuff of my dreams, and also the stuff of my digestive system's nightmares.

What the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, milk. I'm wondering that if calcium is so necessary for the body, what did people in ancient times do? There were no calcium pills. No one at that point worried about bone loss, probably because no one lived past 30.

Now that life expectancy is at least twice that, it turns out that nothing beats cow milk for calcium. These are some non-dairy foods that naturally contain calcium:

• Salmon
• Tofu
• Rhubarb
• Sardines
• Collard Greens
• Spinach
• Turnip Greens
• Okra
• White Beans
• Baked Beans
• Broccoli
• Peas
• Brussel Sprouts
• Sesame Seeds
• Bok Choy
• Almonds

Keep in mind that most of these nondairy sources of calcium do not have that much calcium per serving, especially as compared to milk or most calcium fortified foods. For example, a cup of broccoli has about 90mg of calcium, while a glass of milk has about 300mg.

That started me thinking. Why would "nature" create a creature that weans its young at an early age and then mandate that it needs an essential of that breast milk to keep it healthy for the rest of its life?

Who was the first person to see another creature's breast milk supply as an opportunity? Think about it. Was there a first guy looking at a goat and asking, "why am I not creating cheese from that bitch's teats?". Did his friends and family think him insane?

How did they choose which mammals were worthy? We have goat milk, cow milk, yak milk, even soy milk. How come we don't have horse milk or whale milk? We have goat cheese, buffalo mozzarella, and a million varieties from the cow. Who chose the cow to be the most represented? Am I missing sheep milk, is there demand for that? Has anyone even tried to make a product from zebras? And what about the milk from carnivorous mammals? Why not tiger milk or wolf milk? I'd bet they have a nice meaty flavor.

I'm just saying that maybe if somebody tried harder, I'd be able to eat a tasty lasagna or some stuffed shells once in a while. And maybe the price of cow milk wouldn't be more per gallon than the price of gasoline. For fuck's sake, don't we have more cows in this country than the countries we currently occupy for the oil to produce the gasoline?

Monkey Cuddles

I was flipping through a magazine at work today when I came across this hideous monstrosity. They label it "a delightful achievement in miniature art!" and are actually trying to sell it to people for real money. I personally think it's one of the ugliest fucking things I've ever seen. It's not even so ugly that it's cute, it's just ugly. As in U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi, you ugly (what-what?), you ugly.

You judge for yourself. I present to you Monkey Cuddles from the Just a Little Monkey Business miniature monkey figure collection:



Need a close-up?



But wait, there's more, and they are even fucking uglier if that is possible.



Note that "This figure is not a toy. It is a fine collectible to be enjoyed by adult collectors.". I'm going to let the fine collectible part slide and go right to the part about the adult collectors. That is because they will scare the crap out of your children and quite possibly scar them for life! "You'd better behave little Suzie, or mommy will send Monkey Nibbles in to your room after you fall asleep! He may look innocent, but he'll rip off your face just like Travis the Chimp!"

If I haven't dissuaded you and you still have to have it (Gwen and WhiskeyMarie, I'm looking straight at both of you. Well, maybe one eye on each of you.), they can be yours for just $19.99. Each. Be sure to order now because The Ashton-Drake Galleries assures me that they are available for a limited time only and demand is expected to be great. Unfortunately, the magazine I ripped this page out of is from last September. I'm certain they're all gone by now. Or not.

Wordless Wednesday - Pat, I'd like to buy a verb to solve the puzzle

Thanks Aunt Becky for the head-up on the typo in my "Wordless" Wednesday title! Ha-ha!

Totally awkward Tuesday, late night edition

I haven't done a Totally Awkward Tuesday post in a while, but this morning was just perfect for it. To see the original lady, go to Secret Life of Tova Darling.

I had a little bit of a rough morning, couldn't quite wake up. Have you ever had one of those days where you are operating in a daze? This was my day (daze).

Before 8am, 2 co-workers and I started talking about our boss's dental issues. Somehow, we went from there to our own dental and orthodontia issues while growing up. Both of them had braces. We joked about how our teeth were still constantly shifting as we got older. One of the ladies said that her 12 year old daughter would have her braces coming off soon.

She told us that the new rules of orthodontia called for her daughter to wear her retainer well into her twenties to make up for this shifting of teeth we had been speaking of. Before I ever even thought about it for a second, I said, "Well, that should help keep her a virgin!".

Three seconds later, we all looked at each other, and I started apologizing profusely to the HR lady for the inappropriate comments I made about her 12 year old daughter, while the other lady was laughing so hard that I wondered if she was wearing a diaper to help with her peeing her pants.

As I tried to explain to the lady who wasn't the mother of the child I insulted, I have to keep a vigilant watch at all times. If I let my guard down for even one second, my brain will let my mouth say whatever it wants to at any time.

Look what Scope did

Scope at Scope-Tech left me a comment on my last post letting me know to go check his blog this morning. When I got there, I found this:



Can you believe it? I'm flabbergasted. I'm sitting at work trying not to sob like a little girl, but I have tears rolling down my cheeks.

It's not just the award, but what he wrote about me. It's probably one of the most thoughtful things anyone's ever done for me, and just when I needed it most:

"... there's a blogger whose honesty and openness make me look like a filthy lyre. She came close to quitting blogging a while back. Made it a whole day before she was driven back. Not because she wanted to make us laugh or smile. But because we're her friends, and when things go bad, you don't push your friends away, you pull them closer.

Right now, she telling a heart ripping tale from her past. Fancy, know I haven't commented much, but there isn't much to say. But I HAVE been reading. And interspersed in the story, are posts that make me smile, too.

So, Fancy Schmancy, today I proudly present you the "Honest Blogger Award." Just to be clear, this does not require you to list 6 things about yourself, show the contents of you purse, or pass on to other people. This award was had created especially for you, because you deserve it..."

Say it with me, AWWWWWWWW! Thanks so much, Scope. Virtual hugs are being sent across the wires to you. That was awesome.

Dear Jon Stories, part 10

For part 9, click here.

I left off on Labor Day, 2001 for a reason. The rest of the story is really hard for me to write about. I've started having nightmares again, and am having trouble sleeping period. There is no gore, no crimes committed, no physical abuse or anything like that involved. These are things that I need to personally confront, crimes against myself if you will. Crimes that I committed morally against other people, most especially my own child.

It is difficult because I have basically never spoken to anyone about this period of my life. My family and I have never really talked about it again, except to nod our heads knowingly about "that time when I was sick". So to talk about it in a public forum is unusual, but reliving it personally is even more so. I have been stuffing it down inside of me for so long that I'm not sure how to react to memories as they are popping up. My past mantra when the memories came was, "it's over, let it go; it's over, let it go". Deliberately delving into the memories is a whole different beast.

It's like picking at a long gone scab, which is now just an ugly scar, trying to make it bleed again. I know for a fact that the scar is never going to go away, it is a part of who I am. But maybe if I make it bleed again, it will this time get rid of the infection festering just under the surface.

To that end, I need to say that Jon wasn't completely the bad guy that I have painted him to be. Obviously, or I wouldn't have loved him with the devotion that I did - obviously, neither would his wife. He was beyond charming and had unbelievably redeeming qualities.

Of course, so did Ted Bundy.

I've come to view Jon in the only way that I can and still retain my sanity. That is as an incredibly lovable sociopath. Not the kind that kills and eats people, but a sociopath all the same. That is the only way I can rationalize my behavior with this man. Read more on that link if you are interested in the psychology of a sociopath. It thoerizes that,

"The main characteristic of a sociopath is a disregard for the rights of others. Sociopaths are also unable to conform to what society defines as a normal personality. Antisocial tendencies are a big part of the sociopath’s personality. This pattern usually comes into evidence around the age of 15. If it is not treated, it can develop into adulthood.

Visible symptoms include physical aggression and the inability to hold down a steady job. The sociopath also finds it hard to sustain relationships and shows a lack of regret in his or her actions. A major personality behavior trait is the violation of the rights of others. This can appear as a disregard for the physical or sexual well being of another.

Although these symptoms are all present, they may not always be evident. Research has shown that the sociopath is usually a person with an abundance of charm and wit. He or she may appear friendly and considerate, but these attributes are usually superficial. They are used as a way of blinding the other person to the personal agenda behind the sociopath’s behaviour."

I should have realized that the two people I was closest to in my life hated him with reason - my best friend-sister, Kouf, and my best friend-cousin, Jenni. (Jenni was living with me at the time.) And Jon hated them both back, with a passion.

Have you ever heard of an abuser's method of starting out slowly alienating the people close to "the victim"? Well, these two stayed in the game for a long time, and I'm so thankful for that! At the same time, I have a hard time labeling myself as the "victim". For fuck's sake, I was so totally in love with this guy that I willingly put my love for him before the love and welfare of my child.

I was so messed up, I'd like to say I didn't know what I was doing, but that would be a blatant cop-out. Right now, I'm all about trying to take responsibility for this hot mess.

I'll post more about what happened when I'm ready and able. If you made it this far through the post, thanks.

If I have to be a loser...

This was a pretty good group of losers to be with.

Dr. Zibbs over at That Blue Yak held a contest to see if someone could come up with a new header for his famous, award winning blog. I was bored on a Saturday evening so I amused myself by toying with my crappy photo software with some pictures I borrowed from the interwebs. Except the first one, that's part of a photo of what I did for another of his contests last year. Can you tell I submitted it on October 31st?

Surprisingly, none of my elaborate designs won. I wasn't going to bother showing them, but Zibbsy was kind enough to list me among the other entrants and link to my blog. He even called me his dear, dear Fancy friend. Awwww....

I don't know if anyone came over here looking for the headers today, and found only misery and the soul-numbing, life-sucking Dear Jon Stories, but here is where I try to make up for that! Please be sure to clicky on the linky above to not only visit his site and see his new header, but also for the links to the other losers, er, I mean runners-up.

Wordless Wednesdays - Someone got left inside during a game of Freeze-Tag

Happy Anniversary of the day of your birth

Gwendolyn, this post is for you.

I wish you a very happy birthday, and many, many more.

You are awesome! You are smart, and funny, and unique and strong. I admire you as a blogger, as a person, and as a woman.

Here's hoping for more of the happiness that should rightfully be yours to follow.

To check Gwen out in all her monkey goodness, click here for Every I like causes cancer.

If you're not following her, you should be. She is amazing.

p.s. Gwennie, sweetie, sorry but the card is going to be late in the mail. You know how goddamn slow that U.S. Postal Service works. And also how I procrastinate about things. But I promise that I love you anyway, if that helps at all...

Dear Jon Stories, part 9

For part 8, click here.

Aren't you people sick of listening to me whine, yet? Yeah, that's rhetorical. You'll either read on, or you won't. The thing is, I'm getting sick of listening to myself whine. Although I'd like to try to speed this up, I can't.

April through August of that year were pretty much more of the same, with the following exceptions. Jon spent an exceptionally large amount of time at his wife's house, and I spent an exceptionally large amount of time drinking. Both issues started causing us to constantly bicker.

The first week of July, one of my sisters and I rented a cabin on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. I invited Jon to go (free of charge), but he said he couldn't be away the whole week. Instead, he would spend the first part of the week with me, and the second part with his family at Lily's parent's beach cottage on the Jersey Shore.

When we got to Winnipesaukee, Jon confided in me that he had been laid-off from his new job. It turned out that he basically had gotten fired because he had not sold one thing since he took the job over six months previously. He was feeling really low the whole time he was with me, but just really focused in on berating me for everything he thought I was doing wrong, especially my drinking.

After a couple of days, I was like, WTF - I'm on vacation! He was transferring all his negative feelings on to me, so I basically didn't take his calls to my cell phone for the rest of the time I was away unless he was willing to talk to me civilly. By this point, I was starting to rebel a little bit at his authoritarian attitude. I don't answer to anybody!

I came home from vacation to a shit storm from not just him, but also Lily. Apparently, I was the one to blame for him losing his job and their whole family not having an income. I was the one to blame for him leaving his job at our company to begin with. She even tried to blame Jon's father's cancer scare on me. If he hadn't been so stressed out about the state of his son's marriage, he would never have been unhealthy enough to possibly get the cancer that it turned out he didn't have.

I tried to get Jon to talk some sense into the woman. For fuck's sake, if I had a magic wand that I could wave around making people get cancer, did she not think I would have used it on more important things, like making her shut the fuck up? He just told me the same thing he probably told her, "I have no control over the things she says or does". Yeah, if I had a magic wand, I would have made him grow some balls, at the very least.

By the middle of August, Jon had begged for and received a job back at the company we worked for. But he received an older position, the one previous to the position that he had left - at a seriously reduced rate of income than he had been receiving when he left. At least he was bringing some money home.

When my pussy boss found out Jon was back with the company, he decided to try to regulate Jon and I communicating on company time. He drew up a document with a bunch of ridiculous stipulations about how and when Jon and I were allowed to talk on the phone or see each other in the office. He called me in to his office with a co-worker who wasn't even my supervisor and asked me to sign it. When I asked, "Do I have to?", he answered, "Yes". Which made me believe that my job was on the line if I did not sign the document. Jon was never asked to sign anything.

I eventually had to go over pussy boss's head to the corporate HR department to deem that the document he made me sign under duress was null and void, actually it was illegal. From that point on, pussy boss did everything he could to find any reason under the sun to fire me. He also moved me from my pod that covered New York and New Jersey to a pod that covered Northern New England. That way, at least, Jon didn't have a valid reason to have any communication with me at work.

Fast forward to the end of summer. For some reason, I was still completely in love with Jon. I don't know why I thought things were beginning to settle down, and we were going to make things work out between us. I felt like we had gotten through the work thing together, Lily was quieting down a little bit, I felt that the end of summer was going to be a happy time for us. Jon attended my family reunion, and was a big hit. I remember encouraging him to show off the beautiful pictures of his kids, and him being so reluctant to do so. Again, that didn't strike me as odd at the time.

The next weekend was Labor Day weekend. Jon stayed with me from late Friday to early Sunday. He had agreed to go down to the Jersey Shore to spend time with his kids for the last weekend of the season, and also to watch them while Lily went out Sunday night with her girlfriends.

Here is where it gets really weird for me. I thought Jon and I had reached a point in our relationship where we could be extremely honest with each other with no recriminations. It turned out that when I bared my soul to him, he couldn't handle it.

On Sunday morning, I admitted to him with all the honesty that I had in my heart that I thought I had a problem. It was 10:30am on a Sunday and I wanted to start drinking already, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't beg him for any answers, it wasn't a Hollywood chick flick moment where everything gets resolved at the end of 90 minutes. I was extremely open and honest with him, in a way that I had never ever been with any other person up until that point. I felt like I was sharing my raw soul with him. This is just what it is, and where I was, and I didn't know what to do.

Jon didn't have any answers for me, he didn't even have time to call me later that night. Down at the shore, he didn't have any email access. He left a message on my answering machine long after I had gone to sleep to let me know that Lily and her friends were going to be out really late and he would have to stay the night at the beach house. When I woke up on Labor Day I knew something was not right. First of all, he was already supposed to be at my house. Second of all, my calls to him were going straight to voice mail.

I had made a promise to my parents that I would go over to trim their front hedges, which is what I did on Monday. Everyone asked me where Jon was. The only honest response was, "I don't know".

Around Noon on Monday, Jon finally started responding to my phone calls to tell me he was on his way. I asked him why he had not responded to my phone calls and he told me it was because he had been having breakfast with his son. This just didn't make any sense. When he actually showed up at my house, I asked what the hell was going on. I was pretty pissed, and was being a total bitch to him. He basically refused to give me a straight answer. He finished installing my dishwasher, which he had been working on, and then went upstairs "to get ready". While he was upstairs, I bitchilly told him that he had about 5 minutes until I was ready to go to my parent's house without him.

He missed the deadline, so I left without him.

Turns out he was only finishing the dishwasher so he didn't feel badly about leaving me in the lurch. He only came back to my house to get his stuff.

The night before when he had told me was with his children, he had actually crawled into Lily's bed and asked her if she could ever forgive him for the things he had done, and she did. That explains him not responding to any morning phone calls, they were enjoying the morning together as a family. He spent that morning holding his wife in his arms asking her to take him back. And she did.

By the time I called him from my parents front porch to find out where he was, he was already on his way back to New Jersey. To say I didn't take it well would be an understatement. I had a complete breakdown. A complete and total mental breakdown.