Sideways*

Dude. I've got all kinds of stuff climbing around in my brain right now, but can't seem to shake any of out in any kind of coherent fashion. This is why y'all get memes, just so's ya know. I get 30 squillion ideas in my head and they all crowd up at my fingertips when I sit down to write and I just sit there like a character in an RPG, sort of rocking back and forth. I like that image much better than "like a mental patient", thank you. Anyway, because I do not have Jane's mad segue skilz, I present you with some random, disconnected paragraphs.

So, this mommyblogging thing?? What, exactly, is the big deal? I mean, Dooce annoys the shit out of me and I think Amalah's cute but a little delusional, and yeah some of the stuff that's actually written about the children walks that invasion of privacy line, but this is all the same stuff that moms have been telling each other for years and years. The difference is, now they're telling each other over the internet instead of a party line, so it's the WORLD listening in, rather than just the operator. Oh, and they're shedding light on the idea that parenting isn't always pudding and kisses. Well, DUH. I just don't see the big deal from either end - why it has suddenly become a cottage industry to write about your children, or why some people find it so incredibly distasteful that they're doing so.

Hm, a jump from babies to Jef - yikes. No, no, there will be none of that. He's just the next subject on the list. Everything on the Jef front is going beautifully. I'm not picking out china patterns or anything, but I'm happy. I'll just bask in that for a while. His work schedule has rotated around so that he's working weekends for the next couple of weeks, but come the first weekend of February, it's on! Or...something. ?

The Saints are in the playoffs. I know, y'all just pulled a muscle with the eyerolling, but dude!! DUDE!! So if any of y'all are in the Austin area on Saturday, I'll be watching the game. c'mon by, I'll make queso, bring your own wine.

My kid doth rock. She failed Algebra II last semester (she also worked her ass off in it and is taking honors Algebra II as a freshman, so I didn't give her too much grief) and was planning on switching to regular (non-honors??) Algebra II this semester. However, the teacher told her that if she can make a 76 in the class this semester, she'll get credit for the whole year. I'm not entirely sure how that works, but when kiddo told me that, I said "I think you can do that." She said "yep, so do I." I'm so proud of her, because she's a tenacious little pain in the butt.

I'm still discovering strange habits that I had from my marriage - things I didn't buy, places I didn't go - because the ex didn't like them. I've been divorced for 2 years and finally bought some soap other than Dial white. How long does this take to go away?? The habits and the consciousness of them??

I want to make some of this, but I'm not sure what scent. Lavender seems the most obvious. Sounds like field trip time. Mom??

*The title is taken from the pictures, which is not supposed to be sideways, yet is. The magic of blogger. That pic, by the way, is of some bathroom grafitti that I discovered at the first happy hour I went to after I filed for divorce. It just seemed kind of fitting.

boys

I'm getting tired of leaving my boyfriend in Dallas, you guys. OK, well, that sums up the entry for today. Bye - turn out the lights on the way out, would you?

Seriously, this long-distance stuff sucks. At first it didn't bother me, because I'm one of those people who needs lots of space in a relationship. The idea of having a boyfriend who lived 200 miles away was actually sort of comforting. There was no way we'd get all up in each other's business, no way I'd feel like he was always in my bubble, and no way he'd feel like I was always in his.

Jef and I have very similar needs when it comes to space. Neither one of us "transitions" well - mine is getting home from work, his is waking up in the morning - and we both have times when we just need to be away. He's said that one of the things he likes about me is that I let him "go to [his] cave." I told him it's easy, because I can totally identify and assume that when I need to go hide, he'd give me the same respect. So far, so good.

Anyway, being the neurotic cave-dwellers we are, a 200-mile separation makes that whole space thing pretty damn easy. But now, it's getting a little old. We've spent 4 days in a 700 square foot apartment and all I can think at the end of it is "I have to go home already??"

Admittedly, that's without the pressure of a work schedule. Our weekends do tend to function a little like mini-vacations. But folks who know me know that I get tired of being around other people after a while. Especially in close quarters. I was not built for boat-dwelling or submarines or camping or maybe even being around other human beings on a regular basis.

But we've gotten to a point where the distance is just frustrating. At the risk of y'all getting knocked over by the pure romance of this statement, I gotta tell you - we don't bug each other's shit.

We've talked about moving to the same city and the thing that makes the most sense is for him to move down here - which is great, but not really feasible until September.

This leads me down a path of self-doubt. I'm totally comfortable with the idea of being in the same city (yes! start packing! why aren't you here yet?) and I've even thought about moving to Dallas (sorry mom, but if it weren't for the kiddo, I probably would) but for some reason, the idea of him moving here for me makes me nervous.

Fact is, I'm not comfortable with the idea of somebody changing cities *for* another person, ever. It can lead to a lot of resentment and pain if the person who moves ends up not liking the new location. I know Jef hates Dallas and loves me - that's a good combination. But I don't have enough ego to think that I'm enough to make things OK if he has problems finding a job or a good place to live or anything interesting about Austin.

I don't know - that's September. We'll get there. But right now, I'm so tired of text messaging and 3 hour drives and going a month without seeing him because of his work schedule.

A year in pictures and a few words.

*cough* Not dead. Not sick. Not even really all that busy. Just dealing with a phenomenal case of the writing blahs over here. Everything I've wanted to write about was sort of gray and bleak and who wants that around the holidays? Nobody, that's who!! So I've just been sitting over in my corner, peeking in your virtual windows. Lovely tree, by the way.Christmas was good - met Jef's family, spent some time with my own, ate Christmas dinner at a restaurant (kind of by accident, actually) and both got and gave some wonderful presents. A rousing success, and New Year's is looking to be equally so. I'm heading up to Dallas this evening to spend the weekend on Jef's couch, playing Xbox and drinking beer. So while you're all dolled up, in pinchy shoes, sitting on a bar stool with some drunk slurring "Auld Lang Syne" in your ear, think about the fact that I'm sitting on my boy's couch, wearing penguin pajama pants, with a cat in my lap, killing zombies. Aaaw yeah.

Anyway, I try to look at each year as an opportunity to learn things and I think I've succeeded in that endeavor in 2006.

I've learned that the old cliche is true and you really can't judge a book by its cover; that the biggest liberal hippie freak may actually be a petty pain in the ass and the scariest-looking tattooed badass may be the biggest, squishiest softy you'll ever meet.

I've learned to how to drink coffee black.

I've learned that pain does have a purpose.

I've learned that kittens aren't really stupid so much as they're very, very forgiving.

I've learned that kittens can also get in some really strange places, and so can cats when they're trying to escape kittens.

I've learned that your heart can wish for two opposing things at the same time with equal strength and that when it does, you will feel like you're being ripped in half from the inside.

I've learned that despite the fact that my ex is a huge pain in the ass at times, I actually am grateful that he's in my life still. We have one of the better ex relationships out there and it seems to be improving as time goes by.

I've learned that I'm stronger and more resilient and more patient than I ever gave myself credit for, and that maybe every once in a while, I should cut myself a fucking break. Anybody wanna take bets on that happening??

I've learned that grief will hit you at the strangest times and memories are triggered by the most random things. Lamaze breathing was useless for me during labor, but it's been indispensable over the past year.

I've learned that red wine + flip flops + rock covered inclines = busted up skinned elbows. Ow.

Finally, I think the most important thing I learned was to follow my instincts. I don't trust myself as much as I should, but when I go ahead and listen to that little voice, it leads me out of bad situations and into some pretty good ones. This year, it helped me out a bunch.

2006 wasn't the best year I've ever had, but to go along with a couple of mind-numbing lows there were some really stellar highs, so I survived it and in the end, I guess that's all I can hope for, right?

Y'all know perfectly well I won't even be thinking about the internet while I'm in Dallas, so have a happy, safe, wonderful New Year's. Make sure you get your kiss at midnight and eat your cabbage and black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. Love you guys.

Laura

Lump of coal

I just can't really get into Christmas this year. For me, it's probably due that whole First Holidays Since The Dad Died thing. Funny how that works.

But I've noticed that I'm not the only person who's having trouble getting into the swing of things this year. I saw this list on another site that I have since closed because I'm a moron so I'm not going to link it, (sorry!) and we'll see if it helps push any holiday buttons.

Ho ho ho.

20+ Holiday Questions

Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?

Yes please. I like both of them. I like everything from fancy-schmancy home-made stuff to that nasty canned Borden crap in the can. Same for hot chocolate. This question does remind me of a conversation I had with Jef recently though.

Him: "Hey - I have a great eggnog recipe!"
Me: "Really?"
Him: "Yeah - bourbon and ice."

HA!

Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Wraps 'em. Unless it's a big super-duper suprise present, like a new bike or something, it gets wrapped.

Colored or white lights on tree/house?

Doesn't matter, as long as you're consistent. However if you're going to be inconsistent, go crazy. Live it up!! Cover the shrubs in blinking red and green lights and the roof in strings of blue and plant a plastic Santa up there and make him watch over a baby Jesus while Mickey and Minnie wrap presents and then cover the lawn in a giant net of white and buy all the damn blow up figurines at Home Depot and make the airport reroute planes around your ass because you confuse the pilots with your damn holiday landing strip of a driveway. Seriously, if you're gonna do tacky, don't do it half-ass, I say. Otherwise, just hang up one tasteful wreath and shut the fuck up.

Do you hang mistletoe?

Yep. But I'm paranoid about a berry falling off and one of my cats eating it and dying, so I put a plastic bag over it. Yep, I slipcover my Christmas decorations. I am 92, have some bridge mix.

When do you put your decorations up?

Anyday now.

What is your favorite holiday dish (non-dessert)?

Cranberry sauce - I make my own. I started doing that when I was married because I was the only person who ate it and I wanted to give it a shot. It's incredibly easy, tastes better and I don't have to smoosh out the ridges.

Biggest Christmas peeve?

That goddamn Little Drummer Boy song. And Christmas crap that goes up before Thanksgiving. And Christians who wig out because other religions actually exist and have holidays this time of year. And other religions that wig out because Christians might be forgetful, not intentionally asshole-ish. And people losing their holiday spirit in the mall and acting like dirtballs. In other words, everything except the food. HEH.

What is your favorite holiday dessert/treat?

Those damn sugar encrusted butter cookies that come in the giant tins that every vendor gives as swag every damn year that I swear are made in Satan's bakery. I love those things.

Favorite holiday childhood memory?

Carolling down Congress Avenue with my high school choir. Going to the Zilker tree. Seeing what my mom put in my stocking (she's the reason I'm stocking-obsessed.) Sitting down in the formal dining room at my grandparent's house for one of the three times a year we ever used it (Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.)

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

Sometimes, yeah. Most of the time we just let the kiddo open one, because her head was about to explode by that time.

Garlands or Tinsel?

Garlands yes, provided they're the skinny kind. Tinsel no, because I have cats and no desire to chase after them and pull shiny stuff out of their asses.

Snow: Love or Hate?

I live in central Texas. What is this "snow" of which you speak??

Can you ice-skate?

Dude. I can barely walk. Are you kidding?

Do you remember your favorite gift?

From my childhood? Uh, no. From adulthood, I'd have to say it was my camera.

What's the most important thing about the holidays to you?

Being with the folks I love. It sounds fakey, but honestly I would forego presents and all that other hooha. I'm happy to spend an evening with a bottle of wine and my boy and my kid and then spend Christmas day visiting my mom and my grandmom. Presents are lovely but I can buy my own sweaters. I think that's why a lot of people are out of sorts lately - so many of us do Christmas because it's what's expected of us, not because it's what we want to do. Gwen had a good thing last year where she polled her kids and asked them about their favorite parts and that's all they did. Next year, if I feel like I feel this year? I'm going to do The Gwen Thing. Because trying to do the whole caboodle and only doing it because it's "what's expected" just sucks the root. As well as the very life force right on out of you.

What is your favorite holiday tradition?

Going to the Zilker tree. Hanging out with my kiddo on Christmas Eve. Waking up Christmas morning and taking the whole present opening thing nice and slow and then taking a nap with the cats.

What tops your tree?

You do, baby...bow chicka wow. Sorry, that question just sounded awfully dirty. Usually, it's this kind of cool retro star from the Ex's childhood that he gave to kiddo when we got divorced. This year, I just do NOT have the patience for a real tree and kiddo is completely anti-fake tree, so we're getting a lawn flamingo to pile our presents under. You heard me. Don't be hatin'. Kind of hard to put a star on that, so he'll probably wear a Santa hat.

Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?

Giving. Don't get me wrong, I'm a brat, so I like getting stuff. But I love watching folks unwrap presents from me. It's pure narcissism, really.

Favorite Christmas song?

"Oh Come All Ye Faithful" and then "Riu Riu Chiu" HI!! Choir nerd!!

What do you want for Christmas?

Let's see. The materialistic whore list goes something like this:

one of these, this, this, a bottle of red and a pizza, some refills for my lint brush, a year's supply of cat litter, more socks (dude, am I eating them in my sleep, what the fuck??), a subscription to InStyle or Real Simple, some of these, a job for my boyfriend in Austin, some chocolate, a few v-neck long-sleeve t-shirts in assorted colors (seriously, those are damn handy), and somebody to help me clean my room.


The big, "I'd give it all up and wouldn't ask for anything else, ever, ever, ever again" list goes like this:

A cure for cancer, a reason for sites like this and this to not exist anymore, a total worldwide abolishment of papercuts and a final death knell on the phrase "think outside of the box."

HTML

HTML testing for the kid

italics
bold
underline
strikethrough
small text
large text
blinking text?

I'm teaching the kiddo some HTML stuff. Anybody else know any??

News Flash!

Immunity boosting tea smells like citrus hippy B.O.!!!

Ick.

I got nothin'

Because my sinuses are packed so full of goo that my nose is actually visibly swollen today and I've got a thousand and two things to do today, I present a meme! It's been around forever and ever, but I don't think I've ever answered it. Enjoy.

What were you doing ten years ago?

1996 - I was married, working at the Gas Pump Company, I had a 5 year-old, and we'd just bought a house.

What were you doing one year ago?

Getting used to being single. Spending what I knew was going to be his last Thanksgiving with my dad.

Five snacks I enjoy:

1. Cheddar cheese and Fritos
2. Blue cheese and Wheat Thins
3. Shiner bock and Whoppers (try it,it's good)
4. tuna, straight out of the can and saltines
5. apple and peanut butter


Five songs to which I know all the lyrics:

1. Joni Mitchell - Court and Spark, the whole album
2. B-52's - Love Shack
3. Duran Duran - The Reflex
4. The Eagles - Hotel California
5. Guns N' Roses - Welcome to the Jungle

Five things I would do if I were a millionaire:

1. Pay off all my stupid credit card debt
2. Buy a house
3. Set up college funds for kiddo and the Spud
4. Donate a big chunk of money to colon cancer research
5. Hand a couple of important people in my life some very large checks

Five bad habits:

1. Nail biting
2. dithering and indecision when I have a bunch of stuff to do
3. tailgating
4. depression impulse buying
5. boredom eating

Five things I like doing:

1. knitting
2. anything with my kid
3. anything with my mom
4. anything with Jef
5. Cooking

Five things I would never wear, buy or get new again:

1. Pleated pants
2. Demi-cup bras
3. side pony tails
4. a belly button ring
5. leg warmers (I WAS IN 6TH GRADE, PEOPLE!!)

Five favorite toys:

1. Jef. *cough*
2. those chopper dealies - like this. The "whomp whomp whomp" is very satisfying.
3. my collection of knitting needles and yarn
4. my camera
5. my cookbooks (Yes, I will sit down with a cookbook and a glass of wine and just read it. Yes, I am a freak.)

Holiday Cards

Hey there!!

Want a holiday card from me?

While I have like 5 readers, I'm gonna be ambitious and make cards. Send an email to lollylb - at - hotmail - dot - com with your address. Let me know if you want to spend 39 cents on me and I'll send you mine back.

Woohoo.

Bonus!! A kid conversation!!

"How did you and Jef meet??"
"....Myspace...."
"That's gross."

Floppy

**I have a headache today. (Jane: "*snort* What else is new??") Today's headache is unusual because it just will NOT go away. I've been drinking water and I'm sufficiently caffeinated and I've eaten and I've taken some painkillers and I still feel like bands of evil gnomes are building luxury condominiums, complete with underground parking, on and in my skull. The playscape and pool are going in right behind my eyes.

**I'm wearing this V-neck sweater that I got at the Gap and it's a lot like wearing a long-haired cat around my neck. This thing sheds in giant clumps and balls of lint. Seriously, I expect to hear a soft "pfft" and look down to find a pile of black fuzz on the ground and myself clad in only my jeans and my wifebeater.

**Six more days till I see the boy.

**Tonight I'm making Waldorf salad and deviled eggs for our company Thanksgiving luncheon. Between that and all the laundry I have to fold, the glamour is suffocating.

**According to my home scale, I've lost five pounds. According to the plasma place's scale, I weigh, well, a lot. I don't like their scale. It's mean.

**Nobody warns you that teenagers will make you laugh so hard you'll forget how to drive.

**The plasma place "tags" donors with this glowy stuff on the fingernail of the middler finger on the left hand. It's to ensure that you're not going around to every center and donating to collect all kinds of money, which is probably a good idea. They check when you come into donate by having you put your hands under a blacklight to make sure that only that finger glows. Anyway, I find myself wanting to go to a rave just so I can flip somebody off.

**I need to get re-started on some knitting if I'm going to get it finished by Christmas. Fortunately, it's just scarves and the folks I'm making them for sort of already know what's coming, so if I'm working on them on Christmas morning, all "oh, Santa dropped off some yarn!!" they won't really mind too much.

**I put a divot in my head with the handle of the sliding glass door about a week and a half ago. It's in the scalp part, so you can't see it and it's healed nicely. That's what I get for bending down to talk to a (goddamn) cat.

**It took me entirely too long to come up with these few points. I'm packing it in, folks. I need a fistful of painkillers and a woobie. Ugh.

Datebook

Black shawl-collar cardigan, white t-shirt, gray trouser-cut cropped pants, black Clarks. I'm dressed like an emo Mr. Rogers.

Yes Jane, Kansas State can *still* suck it. HMPH. Even though it will surprise the non-Texans in the audience to find out that some of us Longhorn fans are graceful losers (previous sentence notwithstanding) and I got all v/ferklempt when I saw all that gyrating purple on the field Saturday night. It was very cute. Plus Mack Brown annoys me for some reason, winningest coach or not.

Can we take a second to talk about how much the word "winningest" annoys me? Because it does. A lot. A whole, whole, whole lot. Like, as much as nails on a chalk board or cilantro might annoy you.

Oh thank God, Tammy posted a survey. Content!!

How many keys are on your keychain? Five - Car, apartment, mailbox, work, master key so I can use the bathroom when I go to the warehouse (long story.)

What curse word do you use the most? Fuck with goddammit running a close second

Do you own an iPod? Nope

What time is your alarm clock set for? 6AM - now ask me what time I get up.

How many suitcases do you own? Just one.

Do you wear flip-flops even when it’s cold outside? Yep. My feet stay cold no matter what, so what does it matter?

Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture? Take the picture, but then I get all sad because I'm not in any of them, and when I'm in them I hate the way I look. There is no pleasing me.

What was the last movie you watched? Actually really watched?? *hangs head in shame* "Jackass", with Jef. See? See how much I like this boy?

What CD is currently in your CD player? A very sweet mix CD from Jef.

Has anyone told you a secret this week? Sort of

What did you have for dinner last night? A Marie Callendar's turkey pot pie

Do you wear hoodies often? No, because my daughter keeps stealing mine.

Can you whistle? Yes, horribly

Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? Either my kid or Jef - probably Jef.

What is your favorite ride at an amusement park? I'm not a big fan of rides because they scare the everloving shit out of me. I like the merry-go-round.

Do you think people talk about you behind your back? Yeah - I'm paranoid like that

What area code are you in? 512

What is your biggest regret? Cheating on my first husband. Not because of the damage it did to the marriage, I think we were doomed anyway. But because of the damage it did to all the people involved. Does that make sense??

What movie do you know every line to? Dogma

When was your last plane ride? August 2004 - Mexico

How many chairs are at your dining room table? Don't got one. We sits on the flo'. But we gots some a them fancy indo' terlets!! Two of 'em!!

Can you speak any languages other than English? Pidgin Spanish that gets better the more I drink. Well, to me it does. HEH.

What color are your bedroom walls? Apartment white.

When was the last time you cried? Few nights ago. Last week was a bad week.

Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop? laptop

Which do you make: wishes or plans? Both

Can you skip rocks? Every once in a while

Who was your favorite teacher? Miss Escaig - 5th grade, Miss Heiderhoff - 6th grade, Miss Brandt - Algebra II, Mr Lehman - Chemistry

What two personality traits attract you most? Sense of humor, adaptability

What two personality traits do you most dislike? Rigidity,lack of either of the above traits (helloooo cop out!)

What is your mother’s hometown? Well, she was born on a naval base in California, I'm not sure what she'd call her hometown - mom??

How many hours of sleep do you need to function? 6ish

Do you eat breakfast daily? I try to.

Describe your typical weekday with three adjectives. Routine, predictable, comfortable

Did you ever get in trouble for talking in class? Oh hell yes

What is your favorite fruit? Uh. I don't know. How odd. I know it's NOT a member of the melon group - that's about the best I can do right now.

Do you believe in life on other planets? Yes

Who was the last person to piss you off? My ex-husband

What do you tell yourself when times get hard? That cats always land on their feet. Cheesy, but it works.

Would you ever sky dive? Is there a gun to my head?

Do you sleep on your side, tummy, or back? I start out on my side, who knows where I wander in the night? I've woken up on my back, pinned to the mattress by 3 cats before.

What character from a movie most reminds you of yourself? The hyperactive squirrel from "Over the Hedge." All they're missing is the part where the squirrel suddenly passes out.

Have you ever bid for something on ebay? Once. Ebay intimidates me.

Do you enjoy giving hugs? To some people

Would you consider yourself to be fashionable? Good lord no. I shop at Goodwill because the sweaters are pre-softened, for crying out loud.

Does it annoy you when someone says they’ll call but never do? Yes, but I do it to people all the time. Sorry.

What books, if any, have made you cry? None - they affect me, but I don't cry when I read. Movies will make me cry though.

Do you think you’re attractive? Nobody's gonna stop me in a malt shop and sign me up for a movie contract, but I think I clean up OK, yes.

What are you allergic to? Penicillin and sulfas - I break out in big giant hives. Favorite doctor quote: "Well, it's hives this time, you might just stop breathing next time. I think I'll put a note in your chart." Ya think???

If you were born the opposite sex, what would your name have been? Gotta punt on this one - mom??

Ok, this entry has been sitting in notepad (Notepad! How primitive!!) since 9:00 this morning, so I think it's time I just went ahead and cut and pasted and admitted defeat.

Thick

I'm at home tonight, making split pea soup and parmesan Irish soda bread. Can you put parmesan cheese in Irish soda bread? Since Irish soda bread is a lot like a buttermilk biscuit in loaf form, I say yes, it's just like making cheese biscuits. Hmph. Which makes this absolutely nothing like the time I started matzoh ball soup with bacon. (Yes, I know, there's a spot in culinary hell with my name on it.)

Anyway, this is how Friday nights shake out when the kid is out of town and the boyfriend has to work. I'm sitting here with the cats and a pot of soup and the internet. Woohoo. Oh, and a living room that still needs to be cleaned. It's in that final stage of cleaning - the actual Putting Things Away stage. Yeah - the fun part. Gag.

Oh look! The UT game! Go Horns. Suck it, Kansas State! HEH.

I don't talk much about money, other than the occasional "dude, I could use some advice" because, dude, I could use some advice. But the fact is I have a bit of a spending problem. Not like Imelda Marcos or that goofy savekaryn bitch or anything, but I tend to soy latte and paperback myself into a corner. My bills get paid, gas gets put in my car, and food gets put on the table, but I tend to find myself unprepared for emergencies, so when one comes up I have to raid my savings. Over the past couple of years, I've ripped through any savings I've had and I've managed to raise the minimum payment on all my credit cards. Some of it is just natural fall-out of a divorce; I did have to set up a new household, after all. However some *cough*most*cough* of it is just me acting like an asshole. HEH.

So, financially speaking, I've become just a teeny-tiny trainwreck. Admittedly, it's like one of those city park trains stopping for a dog, not like the derailing of an Amtrak. And I am NOT asking for help on my blog. Oh sweet lord, no. But I am telling you guys that on Friday I sold plasma.

"Dude, so what? I sold plasma in college."

Yeah well, dude. That's just it. I'm 35. And I have this bizarre association of plasma selling and like...oh God, I'm gonna get in trouble for this, but, well, HOBOS and DRUNKS!!

The fact is, everybody there was absolutely stone-cold sober (oddly enough, it's kind of a requirement) and clean and nice and looked just like me. IMAGINE THAT! Well, except for one sort of scary looking lady, but I'm sure she was just having a bad hair day.

Good lord, I feel like an asshole. Please, no need to point out what a flaming 'roid I am in the comments, I know. I don't know why I had this association in my head, I just did. Anyway. I have the potential to make an extra like, $50/week, which shakes out to $200/month (-ish) which will pay for Christmas at least and then will help me start putting money back in savings and start paying down some of my credit stupidity and some other stuff.

"Why don't you just get a second job??"

First of all, I have this thing called a child. And yeah, she's 15 and yeah, she can cook and fend for herself and all, but I'd like to actually SEE her from time to time and help her with her homework and spend some time with her. She's already in high school and as trite as it sounds, it really does feel like she started kindergarten yesterday, so the idea of working nights and weekend and never getting to see her when I can make the same amount of money for sitting somewhere, hooked up to a pump 3 hours a week?? Hmmm, not a hard choice. Second of all, at holiday time in a college town, there's no such thing as "just" getting a part-time job. But that reason is really, REALLY minor compared to the whole kiddo issue.

Hang on a second. Since this money is taxable, isn't this a job?? I mean, I had to fill out forms and show that I was qualified for it and pass a drug test and all that, just like any other type of employment. So, I guess I do have a second job. It's just one with slightly looser hours and I get to read while I'm on the job. Oh, and there's free pretzels while I wait.

"Why don't you get a better paying job/move to a lower-rent area?"

Actually, my job pays pretty well - the problem really is my horrible money management skills. And I live in the area I do because I want my daughter to go to a decent school. We got a good deal on the rent here and it's actually not that expensive. When you subtract the amount in gas and electric (because this apartment appears to have this thing called insulation) from the raise in rent? It all sort of evens out.

I've got a couple of other things lined up (no, I'm not hooking or dealing, mom) like market research things and selling off some of my craft crap that's currently just taking up room in my apartment. That last option I'm not relying on too heavily because frankly, I'm really more interested in just freeing up the room. But we'll see.

Oh, yeah. And I'm gonna do some wacky things like not spending as much goddamn money. I know, it's a revolutionary concept, but we'll see how it goes.

ANYWAY. I'm fine, I'm not begging for money - no donation button, no complaining about how I couldn't pay the rent after I bought those $200 boots (rent always got paid first - HA!!) no ads (I don't even know what good that would do, since I have 3 readers, including MY MOM), no whining. I hope - am I whining? If I am, y'all slap me, OK? 'Cause I know I made my own bed over here.

Pea soup, body fluids for cash and a filthy living room. Yep, that about sums up my Friday, folks. My wine glass is empty.

ETA - we shall not speak of the havoc that stupid Kansas State is currently wreaking upon the Longhorns.

Perch

Aw - y'all are sweet. Of course, it's nice to know that if I'm gonna fish for compliments, I'll actually get some and not, y'know...boots or license plates or tires. Or, y'know, whatever the equivalent would be. Wow. That metaphor sort of disintegrated, didn't it??

Moving right along.

My mom started a blog!! Woo hoo!! Don't let her fool y'all with that "in the making" hooey. She's totally a crazy cat lady - she's got four of the damn things. Hi mom!! I'm still bringing the wine and the cute boy (I hope) for Thanksgiving!!

There's been some holiday-related funk lately. I know part of it is because this is the first holiday season since my dad died. I won't be going to Louisiana for Thanksgiving. I'm pleading financial and vehicular reasons, which are both valid, but the bare-ass truth is I just can't stand to go to Louisiana and not see my dad. I mean, yes, my car needs a bunch of stuff done to it before I take a 500 mile trip and I can't really sink the money into my car right now, but I *could* pull it together and I *could* make it happen like I've done before, but honestly?? Drive nine hours and turn down that road and look for the mailbox and turn in the driveway and go under the carport and go in the door and then no dad? I just can't.

He always used to joke and bitch that "next year, I'm going to a Goddamn restaurant." This year, it's tempting to stay home in my pajama pants and order pizza in his honor. I know it's selfish and I'm sorry. But I just can't do it this year. Maybe that makes me a bad person or a wimp or a bad granddaughter, but I'm not entirely sure I care. The thought of sitting in that house and choking down baked turkey without my dad's sense of humor surrounding me fills me with a type of fear that I can't even describe.

The thought of disappointing my grandparents fills me with a mild sort of regret. I'll take the regret, thank you.

I swear mom, I didn't give you this link so you could see me all sad. I write funny stuff, really!! I'm just having a bad week!!

Anyway, speaking of mom, she's hosting Thanksgiving at her place this year. I really will bring wine. At least one bottle for me (heh) and something cranberry - related and since Kayleigh doesn't have faith in anybody's cornbread dressing except mine, I may make a pan of that as well. And, because I'm a recipe nerd, and mom's talking about going native this year, I think I'll research a "first Thanksgiving" or "authentic native American" recipe or...somesuch and make that. As long as it doesn't involve bugs, I'm good. That makes three dishes, one bottle and a cute boy. Does Igloo make a cooler that big?

Dude, it's 11PM, why am I still wearing a bra?

Me

Hi. Good lord, I need lipstick. I'm thinking about making that my default pic for over there. What do y'all think?? Could you stand to look at that every time you come here, or would that drive both of you away?? Leave me some POLITE feedback.

Eh, I'm feeling kind of needy lately. I could just sort of use someone to sit next to me and maybe pat my hand uselessly now and then and listen to me chatter like a monkey and hand me a kleenex here and there and interject the occasional "aw shit, man" or "duuuude" or "it'll be OK."

Really, that's all I need right now. Well, that and some financial advice and good swift kick in the ass. And maybe a cold Guiness and some dark chocolate, but really, that's all. I swear. Mostly that swift kick in the ass.

Thanks for listening.

Y'all, this weekend, I witnessed a miracle. Either that, or a sign of impending doom, DOO-OOOM!!! I saw a 15 year-old rise up and completely clean her own bedroom and bathroom. People, this was no ordinary job! This involved multiple bags of Goodwill stuff and trash! This involved the acquisition of a dresser! This was a TASK! And she did it with no prodding or intervention or bribery or help.

My child, she doth rock.

But I'd keep an eye out for any of the other signs of the Apocalypse. I'm just sayin', is all.

Mwah. Love you guys.

It's 2AM and I just. can't. sleep.

"Laura, you're so pretty, I'd like to shower you with money and purses, is that OK?"

"Why sure, George Clooney, that'd be wonderful. Say, my wine glass is empty and I seem to be out of this magic calorie-free cheese, would you mind fetching me some more??"

"Oh no, I'll have my friend Edward Norton do it. Right now I'm going to lick your eyebrows."

"I...what? Um...OK"

BEEEBOOOBEEEBOOOBEEEBOOOOBEEEEBOOOO

"UUUGHHH? Hello??"

"Hey, babe? Look, I know it's like 2AM and you're sleeping. I'm sorry. But I just got some more of that cookie dough and I was wondering what kind you wanted?"

"Um....chocolate chip?"

"Cool. Talk to you later - go back to sleep."

*click*

"What the? Why is my eyebrow all wet??"

"Mrowr?"

We'll see how long this lasts

I think I need to give up celebrity gossip.

Ok, my ears just popped, from the sudden pressure change when y'all all just did that shocked inhale. First off, fuck all y'all. Second off, I'm dead serious. It's bad for me. I mean, I'm taking up valuable mental real estate here with whether Angelina is pregnant and whether Ryan cheated and whether Kelly/Ashley or Mary Kate/Nicole need to lose/gain/gain weight and whether Paris is a whore.

Answers: I hope not, hell yes he did, no/can't tell which is which, but yes/yes oh Jesus Christ YES

But see that's just it. I make my little judgments on folks I don't know, but I get all wound up when the people writing the gossip pages make judgments I don't agree with. Like, when they call Kelly Clarkson fat. Sure, she's got a couple Snickers bars rattling around in those jeans, but who doesn't?? I think she's cute. I think she's far more attractive than some of the sex symbols folks are drooling over now who are nothing more than bags of bones. FEH!!

AAAnd this is where I think I need to quit reading. Because I'm spending time and space and energy on stuff that I'M NOT ENJOYING.

I enjoy reading blogs. I enjoy checking out people's outfits and seeing the cute little kitty pictures and making stupid South Park caricatures of the folks in my life. But I'm getting kind of tired of getting all riled up about folks I don't even know.

So. I'm giving up the celebrity gossip. Really.

But before I do, I have one thing to say.

Dear Lindsay Lohan -

Please take a six month break, during which you hire someone to teach you how to cover your legs (leggings are fine, you certainly have the stems for them), brush your hair and properly manicure yourself. During that six month break, please eat lots of fresh fruits and veggies, drink lots of water and get plenty of rest. You're 20 and you're starting to already look 35. You are partying too hard, young lady. Slow down. You are far too pretty and too talented to burn out this early. The dark hair is fine, although I'd love to see something closer to your lovely natural red.

Come back in six months.

I love you, just clean it up a little.

Laura

Ok, all done. Off to delete some bookmarks.

Portrait of the artist as a dork

Ok, so everybody knows about the little South Park character generator thingie. Or, everybody knew about it then forgot, or saw it but didn't know the link or whatever, right? There's the link. You're welcome.

Jef and my mom and the kid and I have all spent the past couple of days making different versions of ourselves and our interpretations of each other and such. For example - here's me, according to, well, ME:



This is Jef according to me:



Isn't he cute??

Of course, this is Jef according to Jef:



"I'm not grumpy....I'm crotchety"

OK then.

This is my mom, according to her:



This is my child, when she's waiting for the bus:



And now you know what happens in my house when I cut down on the booze.

Mwah!!

Prime

I've been cleaning out my rat's nest of an apartment this weekend. I've let things get pretty out of hand, so it's one of those weekend projects. I work for an hour or two, realize I can't tell my left from my right - wait, I have trouble doing that on the best of days, let me give another example. I work till I realize I can't tell up from down, eat a snack, grab a beer, talk to Jef or the kid or a wall or something for a little while, then get back into it. So far I've taken a couple of bags of books to Half Price Books, I have a gigundo pile of stuff to take to Goodwill, I have a few piles of trash and I'm currently in the final sorting stage of the stuff I want to keep.

Some of y'all don't do any crafty type stuff and it's times like these that I really envy you fuckers, because you're not spending your weekend staring at a pile of scrapbooking shit that you haven't used, wondering if you should get rid of it all now, go through it and keep the card-making stuff, throw it back in the closet so you can ignore it for another two years, or go to the store for more wine.

I've left my bra and my shoes on, in case y'all are wondering which way I'm leaning.

Seriously, I've sorted through giant piles of pictures and receipts and bills (why?) and kid's artwork and half-finished craft projects and just all sorts of stuff and I've come to a not-so-stunning conclusion.

I am absolutely certifiable, batshit, lizard-lickin' crazy, y'all.

I mean, GOT-DAMN! I have SEVENTEEN different flavors of blank notebook. And that's not including the couple of teeny ones that I put in the Goodwill box!! Seventeen!

I've made my decision - what wine goes best with lizard?

This just in - that cliche about Mondays is true!!

When I came out to my car yesterday morning, my glove box and my fuel door were both hanging open and all the crap that usually sits in my center console was on the passenger side floorboard.

Oh, and my dad's watch was missing.

The best I can figure is that when I got home from Dallas last night (more on that in a bit) I was in such a hurry to get upstairs to the bathroom (more on that too) that I forgot to obsessively click the lock button on my keyfob like I usually do. So some fuckstain came along and opened up my car and rifled through it and found the only shiny thing in it - my dad's cheap-ass stretch band Pulsar watch that is completely and totally worthless to everyone but ME. They passed up a cute beaded bracelet, a pair of earrings, a packed CD wallet and about $5 in spare change to grab THAT. Fuckers.

He/She/It tried to get in the trunk, but was too stupid to decipher the difference between a gas pump symbol and trunk lid symbol, so they popped the gas door instead. which is kind of funny, considering I've been driving around with my ex-boyfriend's DVD player and a spare microwave for the past few months. Yes, I'm serious.


Dear fuckstain,

You stole something with absolutely no monetary value that was very important to me. Don't bother trying to pawn that watch, I'm not even sure it's worth a Happy Meal. I'd suggest you hang on to it and use it to make sure you meet your dealer and johns on time, you completely worthless waste of skin. Actually, I hope you have an allergic reaction to it and your fucking hand falls off.

Rot in hell, you pustulent fuck.

Kisses,

Laura

Other than that, everything's just peachy. Jef's car decided to go tits up at the last minute, so I drove up to Dallas on Friday. We had a really good visit, with a fun family-style outing on Saturday and lots of movies and chinese food and non family-style fun. A very, very good visit.

About halfway home, I started having really, REALLY bad stomach pains and chills and some, uh, feelings of urgency. I made a couple of stops for Rolaids and to urgently powder my nose, but it just continued. So I made arrangements for The Ex to get kiddo and meet me in Round Rock, rather than me have to stand in his living room and do the bathroom dance, and then I sped home. That's why I think my car ended up unlocked last night, because I'm usually pretty compulsive about the whole keyfob thing, to the point of annoying myself with the constant horn honking.

And before anybody says a goddamn word about it, believe me, I've lambasted myself enough about the stupidity of leaving something that important in my car, so just shut the fuck up already, OK? I wore the watch from time to time, but I have a habit of taking all my hand jewelry off on the drive home. I don't know why, I just do. So his watch ended up in the console, and it was cheap and behind a bunch of stuff and it never occurred to me that some ass-pimple would break into my car, rifle through the Taco Bell receipts and grocery lists and take the one Goddamn thing in my car that mattered.

Fuck, I hate people sometimes. I think I'm gonna pack up the kid and the cats and find a nice, cozy 3 bedroom cave for us and the boys.

Bah.

cat in a basket

"What's the Spanish word for 'bus'?"
"El buso?"
"I'm pretty sure that's not it."
"How do you know??"
"Well, car is 'el caro', but...no - bus is not el buso."
"It could be."
"El no-o."
"Ok, see, that's not right, because it already ends in an 'o', so you wouldn't add the o - it would just be 'no'."
"......"
"So, I wonder, is oboe really just 'ob'???"
"......."
"What??"

full of holes, like swiss cheese

This morning I got on my scale, as I do every morning, in the vain hope that I will have magically lost 10 pounds and lo! I magically lost 10 pounds!! I looked, skeptically, critically, at the reflection of my ass in the mirror and said "um..no, I don't think so" and climbed off the scale. Sure enough, the little dial had been scooched and the scale was off by 10 pounds. I fixed it. No magic today.

Listen up!!!

alter - to change

altar - a place where a religious ceremony, such as a wedding, takes place.

Get it right, folks. Y'all are killin' me.

Anyway - Dallas and Jef were (as per usual) wonderful. Since we're both giant geeks with impulse spending problems who can't seem to stop thinking about each other (I'll wait while you finish retching) we did a strange little gift exchange when I got there. I'd bought him an ACL t-shirt and he'd gotten me an autographed (autographed!!) copy of Silent Bob Speaks and some other silly stuff.* So it was like a mini Christmas, what with the kissing and the unwrapping and stocking stuffing.

Ahem

Anyway - I spent the weekend there the way I typically spend the weekend at home. That is to say, in my pajamas, reading, snuggling with a cat or two, eating too many carbs, watching too much TV and taking naps. The main difference was that instead of whining "whaaaaaa, I miss Jef", I could just walk over and smooch on him right then. It was pretty damn cool.

And yes - he and I are fuckin' rockstars, what with the couch-riding and movie watching. You know you're jealous. Don't deny it.

While we're on the subject of rock stars, may I please have these shoes? Thank you.

Ok gang, time for me to go grocery shopping. Right now my fridge looks less like that of a set of stylish bachelorettes such as kiddo and myself and more like that of a couple of nasty boys, what with the half bottle of cheap wine, zip-loc bags of scary leftovers and mystery stains at the bottom. You know what that means don't you? While the kid is doing all the homework she didn't do this weekend (grrrrr), I'll be listening to Monday Night Football, putting away freshly purchased groceries and cleaning my refrigerator.

I'll be wearing my super-sexy penguin pants while I do it, too. Don't try to run baby, you know you want it. Come here for a cheap red wine kiss.

*A gimme hat from his company 'cause I wear baseball caps a lot. Shut up. And the funniest damn beer coozie I've ever seen. It has boobs. Again - SHUT. UP. I laughed out loud when he gave it to me.

threadless

Will y'all think less of me if I tell you that I can't wait for the new year to start because I'll get to use my new calendar?? If so, then clearly, you do not know me at all.

To follow up on my last post, the book club was a bust. Oh, I'm sure it was fun for the folks who could find it. But I got up Sunday and showered and dressed and copied down directions and went to the apppointed place and the appointed hour and ...hmmm. Have you ever tried to find a book club at a trendy coffee house?? It's like looking for "the naked one" at a porn convention. I considered walking around, all "are you my book club? Are YOU my book club?" but thought better of it. Instead, I drank my iced coffee, soaked up some sun, went home and took my kid out to eat.

I have to interrupt here to say that I just opened up my chef salad from Thundercloud and it smells JUST LIKE Campbell's chicken noodle soup. I'm confused on many levels. As you were.

Something that I didn't tell y'all, and I don't know why, is that BFF and company are in town this week.

Ok, goddammit - I'm tired of acronyms and aliases, folks. So look, BFF = Lee, TBFD = Jef and Kiddo = Kayleigh. Now, I'll probably still call her kiddo here, because that's what I call her most of the time anyway and that's 5 keystrokes vs. 8 and I'm all about laziness efficiency.

ANYWAY - LEE was in town this weekend, with husband and child and OH MY GOD, that child is gorgeous!!! I'd seen pictures, of course, but OH! GAH! I had lunch with them on Tuesday and then kiddo (see?) and I had dinner with them Tuesday night, then last night there was a big group happy hour. They're heading to San Antonio for the weekend then back home to Nebraska on Sunday. *sob* But it was good to see them. Lee looks happy and seems to have settled into the mom thing fairly well. I don't know - I still feel like I have bits and pieces all untucked and hanging out all the time, and I've been doing this for 15 years.

I mean, hell, yesterday the kid and I stayed home because I couldn't find one of my daughter's shot records - something I used to PRIDE myself on having all together.

I've lost my thread.

Anyway - Lee seems content, and while I miss her like crazy, I'm also just thrilled snotless that she's found all this happiness.

Weekend plans. I'm heading up to Dallas to see Jef, which is not my preference, but he's having car/budget issues and I just want to see the boy. And the drive is not really that bad. And I'm taking a day off work to see my boyfriend. So, y'know...not all bad. I usually start the trip with a fill-up for the car and a large something caffeinated for me and just go. Somewhere around Waco or West (which is halfwayish) I have to pee and re-caffeinate, so I do. There's loud music and bad singing and riding with the windows down at high rates of speedthe speed limit. I generally like road-tripping, with or without company.

Actually, I have yet to take a road trip with bad company. Or Bad Company, for that matter. When I was a kid I travelled with my mom, my grandmother or my grandparents and they were all fans of the sleeping/reading/entertain yourself variety of travelling. As an adult, road trips were with the ex and he preferred that I actually carried on a conversation with him...the nerve! HEH. In reality, we had some pretty good talks during our road trips.

Now, my accompanied trips are all with the kid and she rocks. She has a tendency to play the same CDs over and over and over and ooooooooover again and let's just say there's only so much Weezer one woman can stand. But, she's fun to talk to and easy-going and believes in fast pit stops and we roll along pretty well. There've actually been a couple of trips when I've missed her company.

So yeah I'm going up there tomorrow and he'll head down here next weekend and AND!! his brother will be in town for the Rolling Stones concert. His bro lives in the valley and I'd already told Jef that anytime his valley folks needed a place to stay in Austin, I have a lumpy futon and plenty of floor space. So not only will Jef come down to see me, he'll also get to see his brother and I'll have houseguests!

I'm a bit insane, because if I have to leave my house to meet strangers, it takes all sorts of self-talk, a couple of "mommy, you look pretty"s from the kid and possibly even a shot of bourbon before I get out the door. Still, I'm a nervous wreck during the trip to wherever and ugh. I hate gatherings. Actually, I love gatherings, I just figure everybody will hate me and ignore me and there's no point in me going, I'll just stay home, isn't there a show on fungus I wanted to watch coming on anyway?? yes - weird, I know, your point??

But! I love having people come to my house. Even if my house isn't spotless (which it frequently isn't) I can overlook that after a bit (read: two glasses of wine) and I'm happy having folks over and cooking for them or ordering pizzas or giving directions to the store while I clean the kitchen and whip something up or whatever. In other words, I love people!! On my terms.

Thus endeth chapter 20 squillion on Ways in which Laura is Completely Bat-Shit Crazy.

Five!! HAHAHAHA!! Fiiiive!!

#1 Angela left a comment! Which means she read my drivel! Holy crap! Come back! I'll make cookies!!

#2 There's a Nigella Lawson show on the Food Channel. Say what you want about her, but she cooks a lot like I do (chops some veggies, brown some meat, throw a starch in there and pop it in the oven for a while, voila! Serve with a tasty wine and a good dessert and nobody cares!) and she looks a lot like I do - below the waist, that is. So I like her show. And her cookbooks. Shut up.

#3 A reading group! I found one! It meets today - I'll let y'all know how it goes

#4 TBFD's work schedule has cycled around to where I will actually get to see him next weekend. We're still trying to decide if he'll come down here of if I'll go up there (I'm a big fan of him coming down here because I've taken that drive a few times and BLEH) and I keep finding things that I want to share with him, but we'll see. You know I'll keep y'all posted in nauseating, yet totally family appropriate, detail.

#5 Kiddo just read this over my shoulder and said "write something about meee-eee", so here goes. She just made this really great pot of risotto with Italian sausage for lunch AND!! has decided to read Lolita. Wheee!!

Happy Birthday Kiddo

Dear Kiddo,

Fifteen years ago today, you made you entrance into the world. Just like everything since then, you did it on your terms. Keep up the good work.

Every day since then, I find myself amazed by you - your humor, your strenght, your singing, your cooking, your intelligence, your goofiness, youir kindness. Every day, I thank God for making me your mother. Please always know that I love you, love you, love you.

Happy Birthday
Mom

And no, I haven't shaved my legs

I like open letter entries - they're fun to read and they're fun to write. Especially if one is a crappy writer *cough*likeme*cough* and does better with a rant than a narrative.

Anyway, for the past week, I've had a series of open letter entries semi-composed in my head. I sat down to write them out, but then realized they'd be a bit repetitive. Check it out:

Dear Lady in Front of Me on Mopac:

Fuck you.

Sincerely,
Laura

Dear Teenager in Starbucks:

Nice bag. Fuck you.

Sincerely,
Laura

Dear Hair, Big ass, Blister on my Toe, and Back Fat:

Fuck you, you, you and especially YOU.

Sincerely,
Laura

I think you get the point. The Mood over here has been so monumentally bad that I almost wrote one of these to TBFD. Why? Because he lives in Dallas. No other offense.

Then yesterday, it started raining and thundering and lightning and the power went out at Border's before I could check out and as I was leaving I realized that even though I'd have to go back to get my books, I was in a good mood. I was chipper! And cheerful! I still wanted the dude driving down the MIDDLE OF THE LANE in the parking lot to die a festering death, but I muttered my "fuck you, assmunch" CHEERFULLY! With a smile on my face! 'Twould appear that I've moved from getting horrible killer migraines when the barometric pressure shifts to getting grumpy and semi-suicidal. I'm not entirely sure this is an improvement, but it does make life interesting.

(Note to self - stock up on chocolate, wine and fashion magazines before the rainy season starts.)

I've spent today doing pretty much nothing. Let's see, I made the breakfast equivalent of shit on a shingle (mushrooms and sausage in a cream gravy over biscuits - it'll cure what ails ya) and burned my finger in the process.

Yeah - did you know that roux gets really fuckin' hot and that just sticking the end of your finger in it to taste it is really damn dumb??

On another note, I never realized a blister could form that quickly. Heh.

I've also spent just about all damn day reading the archives over at Fussy. Why? I do not know. But I have this weird thing I do, where I start at the very beginning of a site and then read the pages in chronological order (January '02, February '02, etc) but I read them from the top down (Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, etc.) So I'm reading them...inside-out? Upside-down? I dunno. But it kills a slow-ass Sunday.

I'm currently sitting on the floor, back against the couch, legs propped up on one of those seating cube thingies, laptop in my...well, lap. I'm watching a Law & Order re-run and drinking the last bit of one bottle of red. There's Italian sausage defrosted and the last bit of another bottle of wine in the fridge. My kid is up in Round Rock, visiting friends and has been told that somebody else needs to bring her home, since I hauled her and her friends back and forth twice yesterday.

In other words, you people are lucky I took a shower today and a bra ain't touchin' this bod till tomorrow AM.

Hey! Feral Mom, wanna hang with me?? Bring more wine, I'm almost out.

No YOU go fug yourself.

Listen up. I like leggings, OK? I like them on their own, I like them with a giant men's shirt, and I like them under all lengths of skirts. I like them with boots and with flats. I like them in a car, in a bar, underneath the stars.

So this fall/winter, if you see a 5'10" blonde in a skirt and leggings and mary janes and it looks like maybe this girl might have seen leggings the first time and maybe she might be a bit heavier than the recommended legging weight, so by all rights she should be in a pair of jeans? Keep your comments to yourself. Her bad fashion sense isn't hurting you.

Hmph.

Subject Change

Ok, Miz S is now my Official Favorite Reader. The benefits of this honor include me thinking you rock aaaaaaand pretty much nothing else.

Seriously though, that last entry is probably my least favorite writing ever - to me, it ranks below the ones where I wrote "Ugh, am tired, will write later." Miz S - thank you. You are either more insightful than I will ever hope to be or you are incredibly kind. Either way? Rockage.

I didn't write anything yesterday because who the fuck am I to write about September 11th? I'd just be one more person, telling you where I was and how I had no personal investment in it, yet I felt like I did because I'm human and American and Jesus, this world sucks some times.

Whoops.

I was actually a little annoyed by a lot of the 5 year coverage and I'm not sure why. It's not that I don't think we should remember, because duh - I do. I think it's because, well....memorials and all are nice, but so far we've spent billions of dollars on a President's ego trip and have yet to do any God-damn thing about fixing the problems that created this situation in the first place, or catching the bad guys, or or or or. So yeah - forgive me if hearing the victim's names read out loud, AGAIN, leaves me a tad cold.

Subject change.

Today is TBFD's birthday. I went up to Dallas this weekend, since I had to work today. This damn job keeps getting in the way of my personal life, I tellyuwut. Anyway, yeah - weekend visit, some gifts, some hot sex, some Chinese food. I had a good time, he seemed to like his presents, so I guess it was all good.

What did I give him? Wow - that's sort of personal...oh..you mean the presents. ahem. I got him a couple of Threadless shirts ("Fiesta Fiasco" and "Ask me how I became a pirate" (or something like that) I'm entirely too lazy to look up the links) a pair of pajama pants and a couple of goofy little things from my favorite local toy store. And yes, I know that the name of that place totally sounds like a dildo store, but it's not. Toys, plain ol' toys. You want dildos when you come to Austin, you have to go here.

Subject Change

Kiddo has pleased and surprised the shit out of me this year. She's doing her homework, keeping up with her classes, complaining because the girls in her Biology group just want to "talk all goddamn day and not do any damn work!" I'm really impressed. It's not that I don't think she's capable of this sort of thing, it's that junior high was kind of a huge pain in the ass, what with never doing any goddamn work and fighting me every step of the way. This year has been much easier and it's pretty much all because kiddo has taken the initiative. I'm pleased as punch. Of course, we're 3 weeks in and Algebra II is totally kicking her ass, but we'll see what happens with that. I have lots of faith in her.

If she could kick this Plague of Mucus, that is. She and I both came down with a general ick sort of thing - runny nose, congestion, cough, feelings of grossness - about a week apart. I was first, then she got it. We tend to trade colds and such back and forth because HI - we live together, so I figured that was the deal. Well, I'm still sort of phlegmy (sorry) but mine has gradually gotten better. Hers?? Notsomuch. She gets better, then worse, then better, then OHMYGODTHESNOT!!! So I took her to the doctor today.

Let me take a moment here to tell you that having the doctor walk into the office and totally recognizing her as a girl you went to school with sort of sucks. I feel a tad failure-ish tonight. Admittedly, I'm a cute failure who is guaranteed to bring a good bottle of red and a tasty dessert to your next party, but yeah - failure. FEH.

Anyhoooo - the doc suspects it's allergies. So kiddo and I walked out of there with scrips for allergy pills and nasal spray, tralalala. She went to school for Algebra (see, totally working at it!! Tough class!!) and then her dad picked her up for their night, blah blah bleee. She came home with a low-grade fever and swollen glands - like 100% worse than when we saw the doctor. OF COURSE.

GODDAMMIT.

I'm not mad at her - duh. I'm just annoyed that my kid can't seem to get healthy (I feed her once a week just like they tell me to!!) and that she has new symptoms and bleh. This whole parent/adulthood thing sucks major root sometimes, y'all know that??

Ok, I have watched Nip/Tuck, cleaned the kitchen and polished off a bottle of Pinot. I need to throw some clothes in the dryer and then I'm totally going to bed. Really.

I got lost somewhere in the middle

The sound of a ticking clock has never bothered me. If I worked on a bomb squad and had to deal with that cliche time-bomb - you know, with the sticks of dynamite all taped together and the big ol' alarm clock as a timer - I'd probably fall asleep before I could defuse it. My grandparents have always had traditioanl analog clocks with a loud tick, tick, tick. That sound will put me to sleep almost as fast as being in a moving car.

Now y'all know - I'm really just a 5'10" toddler.

There are other strangely comforting sounds from my childhood. The sound of a dishwasher late at night, the "whoooop, whup-whup??" of the big cherry picker trucks from the electric company, the sound of a propane burner going at full blast.

And then there are the sounds I hope to never hear again - the loud beeeeeeeeep of a portable oxygen tank switching on, Amazing Grace, my grandfather's voice, full of tears.

The anniversary of Katrina just passed and I was supposed to call my grandparents, but didn't. What was I going to say? "Hey, so yeah - it's been a year since you lost everything you own, with the exception of a box of pictures and some salt and pepper shakers. How's it feel??"

I'm tired of anniversaries. I'm tired of five years since September 11th, 2 two years since I left my husband, one year since my childhood drowned, six months since my dad died. I'm tired of marking the bad.

I suppose I should view it like the rings in a tree - if you cut me open, you'd see black rings for the bad and what? Blue? Fuschia? Happy jolly pink? for the good.

Perhaps it's my frame of mind or the wine, but right now I can't help think that there are more black lines than blue. I don't remember the first time my grandparent's clock lulled me to sleep, but I can certainly remember the last.

It must be the wine, 'cause I gotta tell you guys, in the interest of blogistic integrity over here - I just cried when I found out that Liz (I'm not linking 'cause the link DON'T WORK) is taking a break and I cheered OUT LOUD for Mrs. Kennedy's turtle.

I don't know, guys. I just don't know. I had a good idea, and it fizzled, so I wandered off for a bit and now all I have for you is turtles.

Surely, there's a lesson or, at the very least, a tired metaphor in that too.

Goodnight.

potential

Kiddo has been asleep since I got home at 6:15, I've had a bottle of red wine, I'm watching crap TV and playing Mahjong to keep busy. One could say that I should be spending my time either cleaning my house, updating my blog, knitting or doing anything else and it would be more productive. And they might have a point. I mean, there are things I could tell you.

For example, I could tell you about the trip to Houston, where we saw the creepy plasticized bodies and the kids got along like damn brother and sister. Or I could tell you that I've been dealing with a funky sore throat/hoarse voice/post-nasal drip for the past week and gah! Or how TBFD is now sick as a damn dog, and I have no place to put my kid for the weekend, otherwise I'd totally go up there and just drown the boy in chicken soup, orange juice and creepy smothering love.

I do have the same birthday as Florence Nightingale, y'know.

Or I could tell you how I've been watching Project Runway and have JUST found this and OHMYGOD, it's so fuckin' funny and what the hell was I reading before???

But y'know, I think I'll finish this game of mahjong, put the leftovers away and then wander off to bed with Mr. Hemingway.

'night.

Two in one day. Whose blog is this anyway??

See, my brain is currently like my living room. It's full of boxes of crap and cat hair and I have no idea where to start in order to get it in shape.

That metaphor lost a little something on the trip from my brain to my keyboard.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is I have tons of stuff going on over here - really!! I moved! I have bangs now! I re-created a scene from "Saw"!! TBFD and I are going to Bodyworld in a couple of weeks! My kid's in (muhfuckin') high school! But I don't know where to start, and as you can see, there is just no way on God's green earth to weave all that into a cohesive post.

Fuck it. Bullet points, the lazy blogger's friend.

*Yep, I moved. I actually moved back in the middle of June. It's a tad bigger, much closer to work, in a better school district, and the hike in rent is made up for by the fact that it's actually insulated and shaded and I won't have to pay $200 to keep my apartment at 85 degrees. But, as I mentioned before in my horrible opening, my living room is still full of boxes (yes, and cat hair, but that won't change.) The boxes are those last few boxes that tend to get labeled "crap" and then some are full of craft crap. It's really tempting to just pick them up, put them in my car and dump them at Goodwill, but I just can't quite do it. It's a sickness. Y'all know. Well - not Jane. Shut up Jane, you lovable organized freak.

*Bangs! Yes! Whooo! About 3 glasses into my bottle of cab the other night, I said "gah! My hair's driving me crazy! Will you cut my bangs??" Fortunately, the kid was actually at home for the first time in a month, so not only was I not talking to myself, I had somebody to help me with my hair. She responded with, "Sure! Get me a razor blade!" A Venus was disembowelled and about 5 minutes later, I was sporting layered, side-swept bangs. They're cute. Now I have a giant zit from the hair oil, but the bangs cover it. Oh, irony.

*Let's say you move and in the process of moving, you throw away your plunger because dude, it was 2 bucks and EW, just toss it. And let's say that a member of your household comes home from a long absence and uses the guest bathroom and comes into your room at 1AM (while you are sleeping!) to inform you that the toilet is having an "issue." You would buy a plunger the next day and take care of business, right?? Apparently, you are a better man than I, Gunga Din, for I forgot to get a plunger for almost a week. Yeah. That's the face I made too. I didn't have to reach into the toilet, like that guy from "Saw" (as evidenced by the fact that I am not typing this with my nose because I chopped off my own hands because EW) but the general sound effects and smell and gagginess from that scene?? All very present. Oh - and while I do still have my hands, I no longer have finger prints because I melted them off with all the bleach I used to clean up. Bllleeerg.

*Bodyworld (every time I see that, I hear "Body movin! Body movin'!") Yes - whoo! TBFD noticed a billboard on his way to work one day and thought it said "Coming Soon!" and texted me about it. Turns out that it said "Closing soon!" and is showing in Houston rather than Dallas. No problem - TBFD and his son (need a pseudonym - Spawn - heh, he'll like that) are going to come down the weekend of the 25th - 27th and we'll day trip over to Houston on that Saturday. (Yes, Houston is a daytrip.) Kiddo's going with us and TBFD charmed the pants off of me (figuratively, we were on the phone) when he said "I want it to just be us and the kids." Feel free to repeat the "Blleeerg" from above if necessary. I'll just sit here and moon.

*High school. I have no words. Well, I do, but they're words like "fucking old", "holy ass, how did that happen??" and "please pass me the wine, thank you."

*Oh! A bonus bullet!! Kiddo is currently in Louisiana, visiting Stepmom and the Grandparents. She was sounding kind of sniffly and gross when she left. Well, sniffly and gross has evolved over the past few days into "tonsils the size of golf balls" and "feeeel..ugh..like aaaaaass." I'm heading out tomorrow AM (anybody wanna come feed my cats??) to drive down there. Here's hoping I don't have to take her to an urgent care clinic or the like while I'm down there.

Y'all be good!

Oh, I'll probably regret this later

This started out as the last part of another entry and it got too long and FEH. So here. Enjoy.

Dear Do I really have to say your name??

Hi there. Look, we both know that I'm not the first person to be irritated by you and I certainly won't be the last. That's kind of the price you pay for laying it all out there and being widely known. Plus, you know the old saying about opinions and assholes. Anyway, I'm lucky in that I'm not widely-read enough to have to deal with people telling me I'm just jealous when I write this next bit.* I have had moles removed. I had one removed from my rib cage and one from my back - both of them were right at the bottom of where my bra hits. I've dealt with the little teeny hole. (No stitches - mine were both just left open!! That was super special!!) Fortunately, neither of mine turned out to be malignant. Considering the amount of sun I have exposed myself to, it's pretty surprising. Yours did turn out to be malignant, and there are more suspicious ones. That must be frightening. I am in no way trying to belittle or invalidate your fear. Cancer is a big scary word. However, the malignancy doesn't seem to have spread and it's not a serious kind and, well....look, you tell us about your bowel movements, and your time in a mental hospital, OK? I'm pretty sure we'd know by now if it was something really serious.

Again, pain and fear are individual things and I respect that. I would get pretty angry if somebody tried to tell me how to feel or what to write. But you must know that referring to the six stitches on your arm as "my cancer wound" all the time is going to piss off some people. I mean...don't you? Do you not understand how someone with a body racked with cancer and scars and a port in their chest might get a little offended by your flippant language? Or that the loved one of such a person might get awfully offended by it?

You don't know me and you probably don't care and who the fuck knows, maybe I'll get my own set of trolls after this. You seem like a nice person. I don't agree with every decision you've made with your life, but it's your life. I'm sure if we sat down over a bottle of wine and a list of choices, we'd do an equal amount of "you did what? why?"-ing. This is not a personal attack on YOU, OK? I'm just really tired of hearing about your grievous wound that really...isn't. It's an inconvenience and it'll leave a scar and it's a scary idea, but it's six stitches on the outside of your arm. Please stop.

Thank you,

Laura

*Ok, the jealous thing. Hell yes I'm jealous. Of exactly two things - your metabolism and your willingness to take a chance and stop working for The Man. I like having things like a steady paycheck and health insurance way too much to ever do that. And 14 years ago, I had a baby and my metabolism was replaced with that of a tree sloth. Somewhere in the jungle is a very confused, algae covered hottie. Anyway - am I jealous of anything else? No, not especially. I'm generally pretty happy with my life. I can have (and express) a negative opinion about a person and not envy them, you know. I mean - I think George Bush has Bertie Bott's Vomit-flavored jellybeans for brains, but nobody accuses me of jealousy when I express that opinion.

ugh

OOoooooh, my head.

Goddamn health freaks with their no pasta, no fat, no nice absorbent layer of grease and starch to protect me from the bad, bad red wine.

OW.

That is all.

Wednesday TV Party

Project Runway!! Tonight!! 8:00 Central Time!

AAAAW, YEEEEAAAAAAH!!!

This is the only TV show that I actually plan around. Anything else that I watch is the result of a complicated equation involving red wine, cats in lap and whether the History Channel has decided to air something *other* than a show about Nazis. It's very complicated.

ANYWAY. For the next couple of months, you will be able to find me at home, parked in front of Bravo on Wednesday nights. And sometimes on the weekend when they show the re-runs. And definitely whenever they do the full day marathon thing right before the finale.

I love this show.

Since tonight is a big ol' two hour extravaganza, I invited mom and Supergirl over for some food and wine and bitchy designer watching.

Supergirl is one of our salespeople here at Workplace. She's an *incredible* salesperson, always looks fabulous, has a beautiful condo, works out like a fiend and follows a diet that I can't even imagine. Her redeeming qualities are that she's funny as hell, incredibly sweet and drinks like a fish. heh.

Mom is doing the no carb thing (don't start) and Supergirl has gone vegetarian, so this is the cheapest dinner I've ever hosted. Right now, my shopping list is up to two bottles of wine, zucchini, summer squash, mushrooms and red bell pepper. Central Market makes this yummy grape/walnut/blue cheese salad and I think I'll pick up a container of that and...yeah.

Chicken breasts are thawed and I'll throw those in the oven to bake when I get home (anybody got any recipes? Bueller?), the veggies will all get sauteed w/ olive oil, garlic and onions (which I already have at home) and Supergirl is bringing another bottle of wine and a spinach salad.

No, I'm not using the Boyfriend Butter (WOW! That sounds dirty!) yet. I already HAVE butter, so the other stuff will stay in the freezer for the time being. Unless I decide to go on a wild cookie-baking spree. In which case, I'll call you. OK? OK.

After all these veggies, I'll have to hook up a gravy IV, lest my body go into complete shock. Damn crazy health nuts.

Things The Boy From Dallas gave me this weekend:

a lightly used cat condo that his cats ignored and mine have already taken over
a door-hanging fuzzy mouse cat toy
a bottle of windshield wiper fluid (convenient, because I just ran out)
a bottle of car Febreeze (is he trying to tell me something?)
3 lbs of butter
2 t-shirts
a 6 lb bag of frozen meatballs.

Folks. I am loving the direction this relationship is taking.

I hung the DHFMCT up last night and let the kitten rock out with it for a while. The best part is when he went running for it, lunged and flew head first into the wall behind it. Good times.

However, since it's a string toy and cats are dumb, you really should put it away if you're not able to supervise them with it, lest you come home to some sort of feline bondage scene. So, I took it off the door frame and rolled it up and put it in one of the kitchen drawers last night. This morning, when I was getting all my food for the day together (lunch, 10AM snack and 3PM snack, shut up) I opened up a drawer to get a baggy for my cherries and GAH!! A MOU....oh, it's that fucking thing.

The t-shirts were both too small for him and his son, and he's in the process of cleaning out his apartment. Which means I have a bounty of men's shirts coming at me soon. Whoo!!

The windshield wiper fluid and the Febreeze were also the result of rabid spring cleaning. It's cool though, 'cause on my way home, my fluid light came on and well, my car does kind of stink.

The butter. Heh. I'd love to make up some kind of story for this, but the truth is it's pretty damn boring. He works for a freight company that ships frozen stuff and apparently the butter was rejected because of the packaging. Not because of anything gross, like a giant salmonella germ (virus? wad?) driving the truck, OK? Anyway - I got a text the other night "how many pounds of rejected butter do you want?"

See? How could I NOT like this guy??

The meatballs were the result of a snack gone awry. I needed to eat something before I hit the road, so he opened up his freezer and asked if I'd tried these frozen meatballs. Uh..No.

"Well, they sell them at Sam's."
"I don't have a Sam's card."
"You don't??!?!? Here, here's a bag, take these"
**fwump!**
"um...could you get this off me, please?"

If you'd been in my parking lot last night, you would have seen me struggling to stuff a six pound bag of meatballs into a cat condo. They didn't fit, in case you were wondering.

5-7-fuck

The Boy From Dallas
totally consumes my mind
truly, I'm thirteen.

I'd like a milkshake
large, chocolate, if you don't mind
my wide ass thanks you.

House! full of boxes!
the cats hide with my dishes
bruises on my shins

where is my razor?
a week gone! had to buy new.
alas, in a box

ah, desperation
has its own stale aroma
it smells like haiku

Dudes

Dear Men -

Let me say something before I start - I LOVE men. I am unabashedly heterosexual. I don't always understand y'all, but I love y'all. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. I even love the cute little Male Ego, frustrating fucker that he is. Love - nothin' but man-love over here. But not in the gay porn sense...heh.

That being said - what in the ever-lovin' blue-eyed fuck is wrong with y'all??

For a while there, the only boy I could get to pay any attention to me was the Ex. And I'm not over here, all sad because I can't get a man, 'cause lord knows that despite the love, sometimes I'm real fuckin' happy I'm single. But a girl likes to have a beer with a cute boy now and then. And a girl likes to get laid from time to time, not to put too fine a point on it.

So now, there's The Boy From Dallas. The distance is an issue, but other than that, things are going along swimmingly. He's coming down to see me tomorrow, he has a 4 on/4 off work schedule which gives us ample visit time to work with, turns out he is as interested in me as I am in him, it's good.

Great, right?

But now! Now, you guys are coming out of the fucking woodwork. Boys that I chased who ignored me, the ex who said last weekend that he didn't want to have anything to do with me again, what the fuck?

Is it the old thing that once you're feeling happy, you look more attractive? Or is it that pheromone thing where you can tell I've had sex recently (not that recently, waah) and you're all wound up by it? What is it?? Tell me, please. I'd like to understand this one.

'Cause right now, y'all are getting on my nerves and the love is starting to wane just a little bit.

Oh, don't look at me like that - you know that you'll offer me a beer instead of a hug the next time I start crying and I'll fall in love all over again with your goofy ways.

Damn.

Laura

Wherein I Ramble Like a Great Lost Rambly Thing

First order of business, I've been asked, by Slick himself, to change Slick's pseudonym. He prefers Malkey, which is the Scottish word for a head butt, which should give you an idea of what I'm dealing with over here.

The man can actually carry off a kilt. I'm sayin'.

Anyway - Malkey it is. I don't like that name as much, because it makes me think of Balkey, which makes me think of Bronson Pinchot, which EW. But hey - whatever makes him happy.

I do this odd thing in relationships. I act a lot like I don't trust the person I'm with. And it's not that - I'm actaully a stupidly trusting person. Really, it's a wonder I'm not trying to trap a poodle from the bottom of a pit at this point. But I don't tend to trust people's feelings for me - I'm never really sure that I'm worth all the effort or interest, that if they like ME there must be something wrong, or that if they do something cool for me, it's for ME, therefore can't be that big of a deal. Sad...sad sad sad.

Oh man, I'm watching "Casino" and it's the part why the guy spits in the sandwich and dudes, y'all don't know how hard I have to shove down my paranoia in order to ever eat anything that I didn't cook. Gah.

So. The Boy. Siiiiiiigh. It's just disgusting. I fall way to hard and fast an easy. But y'know, it's not like I fall for every single guy I ever meet. Really! I don't! I went on other dates! Bad dates!

Ok, that's not entirely true - I went on mostly good dates just with boring guys. One guy works in concert security and got me into the VIP area of Stubb's to see the Violent Femmes. (I KNOW!!) Beer was free all night, the show rocked, we had good conversation, I thought things went well, aaaaaand...no phone call. Now, because of his job, he was going out of town soon and blah blah blah - but dude? Cell phones don't work in Chicago? Whatever. So I wrote that one off as good experience and The Time I Got To See The Violent Femmes And Dude, Why Didn't I Listen To Them In The 80's??

And then there was gigged frog guy. Nice, very smart, very funny, went to see the Mister Sinus of Showgirls and then to Pete's Piano Bar. Biggest problem there was that when he was relaxed and walking around? Total mouth-breather gigged frog look on his face. I almost couldn't look at him. But! He didn't call me! How rude! I should have not called him first! Wait. Ok, that one was apparently mutual.

Let's see...Oh god, there was the salesguy who just needed to shut.the.hell.up.already. Good lord. I'm already here and I'm on my second beer. It's either because you're funny enough to keep me interested, or I'm trying to drown you out with sweet sweet alcohol. Either way?? SHUT UP.

So yes. Malkey (HEE). Met online, chatted, talked on the phone a LOT, met in person and wow.

Yes! Yes! YEEEES!!! PROJECT RUNWAY STARTS JULY 12TH!!!! WHOOOOO!!

Let's review. Cute (Jane, Laura and a few co-workers can attest to this), funny as hell, smart, gets my sense of humor, has three cats and talks to them and for them in funny voices. You just won't believe how much fun it is to have someone segue from singing "Die Motherfucker" under their breath to chanting "Harold! Haaarold, come here! I love you!!" then go back to the song. Oh, and we click in some other pretty important ways. (Insert raised eyebrow here.)

Back to the point of this...how my insecurity makes me just a little stupid. The man texts me all the time (aaah, texting - how did we court without it??) drove to Austin to see me, and most importantly says things like "I miss you." And yet, I'm over here trying to convince myself that he can't possibly be as interested as I am.

I love Robert DeNiro's character in "Casino" - "...an equal amount of blueberries in each muffin!!" HA!!

And I know why - it's not just insecurity, it's also a safety net. If I convince myself that he's not as interested in me as I am in him, then if something goes wrong, it doesn't hurt as badly - right?? Yeah...right. I know, I know.

I was at a Cuban restaurant once (ironically enough, with the Ex, post divorce) and there were a whole bunch of pictures and framed articles and such on the wall by/about this one artist. Anyway, one of them had something about "loving wastefully" on it. I like that idea. I like the idea of loving so much that it's "wasteful." I don't think I've ever done that. I've always held back, afraid that even a nice gesture will "bother" someone. Feh.

Oh - in other news, I'm moving next weekend - whoo! Place is about the same size, but in a better school district and closer to work. It's also SHADED, which means I won't sit here with the air conditioner set to fucking 85 degrees because I honestly can't get it any cooler in here no matter what and anything else is a waste of money and gaaah! Send ice packs and Diet Coke!!!

Holy Lame Updates Batman!!

Wow. A little over a month since my last update. Let's see.....

The "tools at hand" (new meds and therapy) are working quite well. I don't feel quite so much like I'm being swallowed by a giant angry black cloud. Which is nice, as I'm sure you can imagine.

The past month, what's happened??

In no particular order, I hung out a bunch with the ex, and as a result had several fights with the Ex. Despite the good qualities that kept me with him for 14 years, somehow the bullshit that we're both capable of creeps up and reminds me of why I left him after 14 years. So, yeah...I think that ship may have finally sailed, 'cause lord knows I can't do this shit anymore. I am officially too old.

I celebrated my 35th birthday. It was a tad bit anti-climactic, but it did involve some Mexican martinis and Jenna Jameson's autobiography and a $100 James Avery gift card.

I met a few boys, went out on a few dates, some good, some laaaaaaaame.

I met another boy who I like a great deal, but he lives in Dallas. Feh.

I found a new apartment and kiddo and I move on the 17th. Anybody in the central Texas area free that weekend?? I'll pay in breakfast goodies and pizza!! [winning smile inserted here]

So yeah - of all of that, I think you can all guess that The Boy From Dallas is what I really want to write about. I need a pseudonym for him. I know he'd have his own ideas, but this isn't his blog, is it? Ha!

Slick. I dub him Slick.

Ok, so. Slick and I met on Myspace. Yes, I am over the age of 17, kiss my ass. I've actually met more interesting people on Myspace than on Match. Kiddo's explanation for this is that Match is full of desperate white men. I gotta kind of agree with her there.

Laura, honey? Why are you only meeting people on the internet?? Well - because I'm a social retard and I like emailing a few times before I talk to you. Something about knowing that you can write in a complete sentence before I get drunk in your presence. Wait, you expect me to have an internet date without alcohol? BWAHAHHAHAHA! Seriously - what the hell sles is the internet good for, other than settling bets and giving strangers an excuse to drink together. May I continue?

Slick responded to my profile, which I noticed a lot of guys did when I had the cleavage pic up.

By the way, young men of Myspace? I don't have a single problem in the world with younger men. I figure age, much like clothes size, is just a number. However, if you can't be bothered to find the shift key or the comma when writing a sentence, I have to assume you can't be bothered to find the clitoris either, therefore no, I'm not interested. Thanks though.

Anyway - cleavage pic, big scary guy with scary stuff on his profile responded, I went ahead and wrote back because his message was actually reasonably intelligent. We started messaging and then chatting and then talking on the phone. And he's smart! And funny! And has a great phone voice! And three cats! OH MY GOD.

so I went to Beaumont on Saturday for one of Sport's games (they lost, very sad) and then on Sunday I took I45 up to Dallas. I didn't feel like going home, what??

We met, we clicked. And we clicked some more, and I ended up getting home sometime around midnight on Monday. Heh.

He's coming down this weekend for the ROTRally. Y'all know I'm just a bg ol' biker slut. I'm sort of stupidly excited about this guy coming to visit me. I hate getting all wound up about a boy, because it happens so easily because I'm a big ol' goob, but I just can't help it. It seems like he just might like me back. Whoo!

Anyway - yes, there's a boy and he's my typical broad-shouldered, blue-eyed eclectic weirdo. I think I should start a charm bracelet or something.

Sigh.

I really do like this one. Dallas. Damn.

I, Laura, do hereby promise to update more often. I think I just needed a break. I love you guys.