ch-ch-ch-changes

There's a long (not terribly interesting) story about how I got this question, but here's the question for the day:

If you could have any plastic surgery alteration, what would it be? First tell me the realistic stuff - tummy tucks, butt lifts, third eye removals?? Then tell me the outlandish stuff - prehensile tails, wings, third joints in the legs so you could walk like an ostrich??

Me?

Ok, realistically, I'm actually pretty happy with my body. I know a few of you out there probably immediately thought "breast reduction" and you know what? Fuck y'all. I've finally gotten used to the damn things and I'm keeping 'em. My first answer was liposuction on my tummy, but then I thought about how painful liposuction has always looked and reconsidered. I think I'd see if they could do anything about the red circles/bags under my eyes. It doesn't matter how much sleep I get - lack of sleep just makes them more red - I always have red circles and bags under my eyes. More genetic payola from Dad. So yeah, I'd go in and have that taken care of in the least invasive way possible (no knives by the eyes, GAH! MUST WASH BRAIN AFTER PUTTING THOSE TWO WORDS IN SAME SENTENCE! AUGURGRGRGRGRRRGGRGRG!!)

Now on the outlandish stuff. I think I'd get big springs implanted in the bottoms of my feet so that when I needed to get somewhere, I could just *booi-ooi-ooing* over to it, like a giant flea. Wouldn't that be cool??

Oh quiet, you know it would rock.

All right - Hit me in the comments or leave a link to your own entry.

convenient truths

I had a break from Smiley-Mart tonight, so I decided to so something unsual. I went out and had a life. A friend and I wandered over to a psychic (the day job is in south Austin, right on the fringes of east Austin - you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a psychic, a hippie or a Mexican restaurant) and then we had margaritas.

Tarot and Tequila Tuesdays. If I had the money, I think I'd make this a weekly thing.

Anyway, because I am a child of the 80's, everything the psychic read in my cards made sense to me. Of course, when I cut the cards, I was thinking about Jef (and no, I didn't tell her that - that sort of negates the whole deal (deal! get it?)) I have lost my punctuation, what with the margaritas and the double quotes, so I'm just going to start here, in the middle, and fuck Garner's up the hole.

Ok, so. All the cards that had to deal with my past were very negative. It was the devil card and a guy lying on his back with an assload of swords stuck in him (hi mom! help??) I was told that while there was love in that relationship once, I needed to put all that behind me.

Well, duh.

Everything in my present pointed to me being veryvery busy, not taking care of myself, having a lot on my plate, worrying too much, but having a lot of opportunities soon and if I have faith and strenghth, it will all work out.

Now, look - I can hear Jane's eye muscles ripping from here, what with all the rolling they're doing, so listen up. I am not so naive to believe that the cards led themselves to me or that she could actually read my mind or blah blah blee. I also know that telling people in nice work clothes, coming from downtown at 5:30 that they have a lot on their plate and they have opportunities coming up is a pretty safe blanket statement. OK? OK. May I continue??

Then she told me that everything looked rosy and wonderful for me and my current relationship and asked if his name started with a "J." Again, not so naive that I don't realize that a LOT of men's names start with "J", but still, y'know.

Even if it was convenient bullshit, I haven't been to my therapist in a while and it was around the same price as going to see her and it made me think about some of the same things - where have I been? Am I hanging on to old injuries too much? Where am I now? What the fuck am I doing here? Where am I going? Is it where I'm supposed to be?

The cards, however full of shit they may be, say I'm doing OK. So I think I'll listen for the time being.

It also helped that SuperGirl picked up the tab for the 'ritas.

And according to my palm, there was something major, like life-threatening when I was a baby...mom???

Screechy, like an owl

Why I love Flea.

I try not to get to screechy about my feminism (or is the current term "shrill"??) because when I do, a voice that sounds suspiciously like one or both of my grandmothers tells me that women shouldn't make a fuss. Oddly, these are the same women who told me that men are all out to control women, and would tell me stories about life as an intelligent, strong-minded woman in the wrong generation and how hard it was. These are the same women who brook no bullshit from the men in their own life. But these are also the same women who instantly defer to a man, any man, when a question comes up.

If you ever want to see hackles actually rise, come around when this happens and check out the back of my neck.

My daughter makes fun of me sometimes when I point out the inconsistencies in how boys and girls are treated. How, for example, I show people her class picture and the class picture of Jef's son (they sit right next to each other in my wallet - just like in Jef's) and when they see his, they say "wow, good-lookin' kid," but when they see kiddo's, they say "she's so pretty, but she could've dressed up!!" For the record, he is wearing a red t-shirt and she is wearing a yellow t-shirt. Little things like this irritate me, because they are part of the larger picture.

My call to The Larger Picture is simple. Treat me like a person. If I make a mistake, it's not because I'm a woman, it's because I'm human. If I'm having a bad day, it's not because I'm on the rag, it's because I'm a human being and sometimes that happens.

Since I grew up with a pretty wide variety of female role models, it honestly never occurred to me that a woman couldn't/shouldn't be her own person. If anything, I had difficulty choosing a role. My mom worked and went to school full-time and raised me on her own (generous meddlinghelp from grandparents notwithstanding.) My stepmother quit working when my brothers were born, but is a tomboy who still gets in indoor water fights with her grown sons and will tell you exactly what she thinks. My maternal grandmother is incredibly intelligent and independent and went back to work in her 60's for a while. My other grandmother worked up as a hairdresser until Katrina hit - admittedly she had whittled her schedule down to one day a week, but that happens when all of your clients start dying off.

I started to write about what wonderful examples these women were of how women could still work and be wives and have kids, but that's not really what I want to say. What I want to say is that these four women set examples for me that women could be people and do things and live their lives. They did what they wanted or had to do, not just because they had vaginas, but because they are people. And this is the part of sexism that I just don't get.

Women don't want extras. I don't. I just want to be able to walk through HEB when I'm having a bad day and not be told to smile - would a man do that to another man?? I want people to look at my daughter's class picture and not notice how she's dressed - they don't notice it with the boy, why do they notice it with her? I want to be able to get angry about something and not have somebody ask if it's "that time of the month." I want to be able to go get a beer and read my book (Hi, yes, I'm a nerd with a boyfriend!) and not be intimidated into being polite to some jerk because I'm afraid he'll get mad and try to hurt me - would he bother another guy? Does he really care what I'm reading?*

It's been said before and better, but here's my point. Dudes, other than the plumbing, I'm not really that different from you. OK? I have bills and a gas tank to fill up at 3 bucks a gallon and a kid to feed and pets and two jobs and a boyfriend and parents and grandparents and siblings and books I want to read and movies I want to watch and laundry to do and my trash needs to be taken out and Good God what is that growing in the crisper drawer and man I could use a beer and what is that knocking sound under the hood, when's the last time I got an oil change and and and and and and.

Get it? I'm living my life over here. The point I'm trying, and failing, to make is that I don't understand why the same story or shirt or job or anything is different when it's told, worn, performed, whatever by a man than it is by a woman.** Individuals make the difference - not genitalia.


*And don't give me that "he's trying to be nice" bullshit. If he were really trying to be nice, he'd see that I was reading and leave me in peace with my book. People looking to get picked up DON'T BRING BOOKS TO BARS.

**This is the part of the conversation where Jef and I tend to derail, because he's former Navy and the Navy has a record of being the most sexist military branch and of being proud of it. I forgive them because they look so damn hot in their little sailor suits (two can play at that game, buddy.)

General Well-Being, Colonel Happy

Hello, party people. My birthday was fantastic, thank you for asking. I received all sorts of fabulous gifts - a box of truffles and a custom-made CD (OF LOVE!!) from The Jef, one of these from my mom, a $100 (whoo!!) Amazon gift certificate from D-mama, money from the other grand-rents and my step-mom, margaritas and a handmade fused glass pendant from a friend and an entire day of just chillin' out and doing stuff with my kiddo.

And on Mother's Day, I hung out with my kid by the pool and then she bought me a sno cone. Really, how do you beat that? You don't.

Of course, all good things must come to an end and Monday we spent the day all spiky and bristly and had a fight. But that ended the way most of our fights do - with us laughing at each other. So, y'now - it's all good.

I realized something recently. Open a can of Ro-Tel and a bag of chips, 'cause it's cheesy. I realized that despite some kvetching to the contrary, I actually really like myself. I have a weird sense of humor and I babble and overexplain because I'm pretty sure nobody understands what the hell I'm talking about half the time (and I have a deep-seated fear/loathing of being misunderstood), and I'm always underestimating how long it'll take me to get places and overestimating how much I can carry in one hand, but overall, I like me. I've managed to make it to my mid-30s without developing an eating disorder or a (major) drinking problem, I feel like I look at most of my shit head on (I said most) and I don't know, I'm a generally happy person. (With maybe a small parentheses problem??)

Of course, when I went down this road, I took a wander down Body Issue Avenue and I started to think about whether or not I was happy with that part of me/myself/I and I realized that, well yeah - I am. I'd like to start running again and I could probably stand to lose a couple of pounds, but eh. I used to really dislike my hands, but when I look down at them now all I see are my dad's hands and they make me unreasonably happy.

I don't know, you guys. I'm in a really good spot right now. Ok, let's re-word that. I'm tired all the time because I'm working all the time and my house is a constant mess, but I get to see my boy in 8 days and I have a girls' trip coming up with some friends and I'm starting to see some financial progress from all the toiling at Smiley-Mart and I'm feeling generally happy and optimistic and good about me in general.

It's a nice feeling.

Oh, honey. You have queso on your chin.

Birthday Suit

Actually, tomorrow is my birthday, but tomorrow I'll be too busy running around with my kiddo and drinking margaritas on a deck somewhere to write an update, so y'all have to deal with the birthday cat a day early.

I love my birthday. Some of you may scoff and say it's because I'm still young and perhaps that's true. I turn 36 tomorrow, which is a good age. I'm old enough to do all kinds of fun stuff, young enough to enjoy my body, but old enough to listen to the aches and pains and know when to stop. I'm wise about a lot of things, but still stupid enough to jump into situations feet first and look around, all shocked puppy-dog and wonder how I got here. I have a sex drive. The thirties are a blast so far.

But I can also tell you that I'm still here and I'd rather still be here than not. I'd rather turn older every year and watch my face wrinkle and my hair turn gray and feel my knees get stiffer and realize that I don't get checked out by bagboys anymore, and wonder when bread got so expensive and look up one day and figure out that I am old than not. I am still here and my friends, there is only one other alternative, and I don't like it.

So I will celebrate my birthday today at work and tomorrow with my daughter and I will enjoy every casual "Happy Birthday" thrown my way and I will savor every bite of chocolate cake and every truffle in the box that Jef sent me and every sip of my margarita(s) tomorrow and every single moment of my birthday this year and the next and the next and the next.

I think y'all should do the same when your birthday comes up. But tomorrow, have some chocolate cake and wine, and when people ask you why, say "Didn't you hear??? It's Laura's birthday!!"

Smooches

memmememmmeeeee

The post rattling around in my head right now is all serious and drab and about how divorce still sucks, even when you're in an extremely wonderful, yummy, incredible relationship and how I feel sometimes like I'm going to break right in half *snap*, like a dry twig and how lately I've taken to leaking from my eyes at random moments while driving from one job to the other and how maybe someone could bring me a candy bar and fix my fucking car for free and how I hate feeling this way because it makes me feel like the world's biggest whiney weiner and feh, nobody wants to read that so instead I present you with a long rambly sentence and a meme I stole from danatheb.

Enjoy.


1. What bill do you hate paying the most? Fucking Old Navy fucking credit card. Fuck.

2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner? About a month ago, sitting at Jef's desk. Gnocci and tortellini (what? we wanted pasta) and wandering through the internet on a Saturday night.

3. Last time you puked from drinking? About two years ago - in front of my mom. I'm so proud.

4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar? Uh, never.

5. Name of your first grade teacher? Mrs. Harris. Another in a long line to tell me that I wasn't living up to my full potential. I WAS 5 LADY BACK OFF.

6. What do you really want to be doing right now? Sitting on my back porch with my book and a glass of wine, please and thank you.

7. What did you want to be when you were growing up? Teacher. While I'm not thrilled about this whole IT/Smiley-Mart drone thing, I'm glad teacher didn't work out. I probably would've taken a PTA meeting hostage or something.

8. How many colleges did you attend? Two.

9. Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now? Becaue it was clean and easily accessible and hanging right there with a coordinating skirt.

10. GAS PRICES??? Oh, fuck me running.

11. Where would you move if you could move anywhere? I think I'm there.

12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning? "Oh shit."

13. Last thought before going to sleep last night? "Jesus, why'd I have that Dr. Pepper, now I can't zzzzzzzzzzzzz.....""

14. Favorite style of underwear? boy short. Which I am, unfortunately, not wearing today. 'nuff said.

15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite sex? Boxers.

16. What errand/chore do you despise? Cleaning the catbox

17. If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer? I'd like to say yes, but realistically I have no idea.

18. Get up early or sleep in? I don't know how to answer this. I'm always tired no matter what I do.

19. What is your favorite cartoon character? Brian

20. Favorite thing to do at night with a girl/guy? "At night" as in "when all the cool bars open?" Or "at night" as in "in the dark, bow-chicka-wowwow?" 'Cause the answer to the first one is go the Draughthouse for a couple of pints and then wander down Congress Avenue and pretend to be one of/laugh at all of the cool people. The answer to the second is none of your damn business, missy.

21. Have you found real love yet? I sure as hell hope so.

22. When did you first start feeling old? When I sold a pack of cigarettes to a kid who was born the year I graduated high school.

23. Favorite 80's movie?

24. Your favorite lunch meat? ugh - not a big lunch meat fan. Ham?

25. What do you get every time you shop at Sam's club. I don't shop there often enough to have a regular item.

26. Beach or lake? Beach

27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual? A little, but I still like it.

29. Favorite guilty pleasure? Cheesy 80's metal, these cookies, cheap wine, In Style magazine

30. Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about? If I don't want anybody to find out about it, why would I tell you? Jeez.

31. What's your favorite alcoholic drink? Frosty cold beer, red wine, vodka tonics.

32. Cowboys or Indians? Cowboys, baby.

33. Cops or Robbers? Cops. It's the uniform.

34. Who from high school would you like to run into? "Run into??" Not a damn person. I'd maim, perhaps kill to see Lee though.

35. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now? Uh...KLBJ? The ROCK OF AUSTIN.

36. Movies or Documentaries? Depends on what either one is about.

37. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons? God, if I have to choose, the Simpson. The Cosby Show was awful.

38. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back? *snort*

39. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work? Well, if I look straight ahead, I see my own reflection in the server cabinet door, so I'll have to say yes.

40. If you could get away with it, who would you kill? Oh, I talk big but really, nobody. But I'd harass a lot of folks.

41. What famous person(s) would you like to have dinner with? Elvis Costello. I'm not even that big of a fan, he just seems like a cool guy.

42. What famous person would you like to sleep with? Natasha Henstridge. Yes, I'm 100% straight, but damn, girlfriend is hot.

43. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose? Nope, nor have I used it for its unintended purpose.

44. Last book you read for real? Possessing the Secret of Joy. very good. I'm currently re-reading Catch-22, one of my all-time favorites.

45. Do you have a teddy bear? Nope.

46. Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth? UH. I tend to just brush my teeth either at work or at home. I do seem to remember brushing them at a restaurant one time - in the bathroom, of course.

47. Somewhere in California you've never been and would like to go? I've never been anywhere in California.

48. Do you go to church? Only if my daughter's choir is performing in one.

49. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or a new relationships? New relationship. But like - friends, I'm not looking for any new romantical crap.

50. Just how OLD are you? I'll be 36 in 5 days, Ms. Nosey.

trenches

Customers of the day:

The old(er) guy that I got to stand and talk to for about 5 minutes. We started out joking around when I was trying to describe how he should slide his credit card through the reader and said "just like that, but strip down sir" and he threw an eyebrow at me and got a Dirty Old Man glint in his eyes.

I had to explain that that phrase didn't actually contain any verbs.

The other best customer of the day was the little boy accompanying some adults who was giving an extremely animated lecture on various dinosaurs and which one was the biggest and the baddest and how you wouldn't want to "mess with Tyrannosaurus Rex, he's one serious dinosaur!!!"

So yeah, I've been working and working and working. I need to do something else. Preferably "something else" as in get laid.

Oh, be quiet.

I'm working 60 hours a week, my car is acting up (thus adding yet ANOTHER GODDAMN BILL to my list of stuff to pay), and I haven't seen my boyfriend in over a month. I need a day off from both jobs (got that coming up, actually - on my birthday! Whoo!), my car fixed, someone to come clean my messy-ass house and some damn sex. HMPH.

That's about it. I'm alive.

Zzzzzzooooooommmmmmm

The last couple of weeks, broken down:

Busy
Tired
Tired
Cranky
Busy
Busytiredcrankytiredbusycrankybusy

Sick

I'm mostly better now. There's still a glue factory operating in my head, but production seems to be slowing. Soon all the little laid-off glue factory workers will wander out of my cranium with their little metal lunch pails in search of another job.

Um.

So listen, if you go to Smiley-Mart and you buy a 12-pack of regular Coke and a bag of mini Snickers and a box of diet pills guaranteed to burn belly fat? I'm going to judge you.

If you come in and buy a James Bond DVD, bubbles and a pack of underwear, I'm going to entertain myself by imagining you - sitting around in your new boxer briefs, reciting the good bits of "Diamonds are Forever" while blowing bubbles in your darkened living room. OK? Deal with it.

You, sir? The one who comes in every week and buys a pack of athletic socks and a pair of very large women's dress shoes? I try not to think about what you're doing.

You, cute Army guy, who comes to the express line and gets frustrated because we never have your cigarettes by the carton? Come back. I'll tell them to restock. You're pretty. You're also heartbreakingly young and if you're shopping at Smiley-Mart, it means you're not getting shot at in Iraq.

You, parents who bring your toddlers in at 10PM and then wonder why they're cranky? Are you on crack? Oh...nevermind.

Speaking of cranky children, I'm always sort of amazed by the fact that there's this other person living in my house. You'd think, after 15+ years, I'd be used to the concept, but it obviously takes me a while to catch on. She still sort of blindsides me sometimes with all of her otherness.

She's not even remotely the kid I thought I'd have at this point. I'm not disappointed at all - she's amazing. But I look at her and go "huh, so that's how you turned out....cool." The ex and I referred to her as The Science Project when I was pregnant and now that seems really appropriate. Here is The Science Project at Stage 15 - Adolescence.

Anyhoodles. I'm still sort of in the busy/cranky/tired phase of things, but I felt like popping in to say hello. So - hello. I'm off to save the world, or at least this little tiny, furniture-based, digital bit of it.

Sanitized kisses.