Ma Famille: Confessions

“So, you know I was the one who taped your Malibu Barbie to that bottle rocket that time, right?”

“You remember that time I drew moustaches all over your New Kids on the Block posters?”

“You know I was the one that ran off with your Fairweather Johnson cd, right? All three times?”

“I was the one that put the frogs in your sleeping bag that time in Yosemite.”

“I was the one that pulled the strings on your halter top that day you flashed everyone at Element.”

“ You knew I was the one wearing the Jason mask the day we played that prank on you at McKinney Falls and you ended up fainting, right?”

“I was the one that really lost the hotel reservation stuff when we were in Germany, not you.”

It’s funny how, when people know they’re not long on the earth, they will start fessing up to everything bad they’ve ever done to you. He told me so many things, but these are the ones that stood out, probably because they were the ones that I was the most outraged about at the time. He told me that I was his perfect girl, well, provided I took three or four inches from my waistline and added them directly to my ass. That bastard. I’m still laughing about that.

It’s been six months. Six loooong months. I’ve had time to not be morose anymore. Don’t get me wrong; I still miss him. I still lie on my back at night, staring at the ceiling as a running movie of us plays in my head, but it’s a good thing. I cry happy tears because I have happy memories. I think about him and Brandon a lot. They taught me so much about men and what they wanted. They shaped so much of who I am. They turned me into a dude with boobs, basically. They taught me to love sports, to drink beer, how to fish, that you aren’t supposed to speak until the game goes to commercial, how to shoot a rifle and skin the rabbit I just shot.

Gianni taught me how to not cry because it’s emotional blackmail and that a man won’t care much if you sleep with his best friend or burn up everything in his home, but will feel it down to his nutsack if you fuck up his car. He’s why I started cooking. He’s why I kick ass at Rock Band. He knew everything about me, all my secrets, all my flaws, all my faults, all the stupid things that I tried to keep hidden, and he still loved me anyway. I told him that I wouldn’t write some depressingly perfect blog entry when he died about how wonderful he was and gloss over the fact that he could act like an asshole at the drop of a dime.

We made a whole list of things that I needed to do before I die. He told me his fondest hopes and wishes that he had for me. He told me that I was the only girl that never let him down. He told me I was the best sister/wife he could ever ask for. He told me that he wanted me to keep one picture of him inside my home and not to replace the others because he didn’t want to become someone relegated to a photo album or put in a box in the back of my closet because I can’t bear to look at him, knowing what I had lost.

So, there’s one picture sitting proudly in my living room, the same picture that I have on my bulletin board at work that houses pictures of those I love. I will carry him with me in my heart every single day and, until I see him again, there’s one picture, taken on one perfect day, that I will carry with me everywhere I go.

State of the Union: Nostalgic

Listening to: My Old Friend by Tim McGraw

Edited: August 29th, 2008

All About Me: Typhoid Mary

Dude. Dumb stuff happens to me. Weird stuff happens to me. It just does. I remember one time, my aunt sent me to the store to get a loaf of bread. I was riding my five speed. On the way home, the bread managed to get caught between the frame and the wheel and I smushed it. She just looked at me when I tried to explain what happened.

I decided to tackle my closet finally. I stacked the jeans on my closet shelves and started hanging up my clothes on the built in rails attached to the shelves. I was singing along with Coldplay and it took me a long minute to realize that my clothes were so heavy that they were pulling the brackets holding up the shelving out of the wall. I kept staring at the shelf, knowing something was wrong with it, but unsure of what it was. I don’t know how long I stood there before I realized that the shelf was sagging in the middle from the weight of the clothes. I felt so dumb that all I could do was laugh.

Tonight, I went to my belly dancing class and was running late. I tried to pull my keys out of the ignition and couldn’t. I left the keys there and went in to class. I tried to jiggle them loose after class, but no dice. I drove home and tried and tried and couldn’t pull the key out of the ignition. I got the brilliant idea of trying to untwist the key ring and then pull the keys off. Using the other end of a spoon (the only metal thing I had in my car), I got it halfway undone and MacGuyver would have been proud of me, but couldn’t get it to uncoil all the way and didn’t want the key to break in the ignition. Normally, when bad things happen, like flat tires or running out of gas or a battery dying, the Good Lord sends a man to help me. I wanted to fix this myself. After 35 minutes, I gave up, took a chance, and called my dad. He’s been working in Odessa for the past two months, but I sent up a silent prayer that he was still here from the weekend.

He answered and the first words out of his mouth were, “What did you do now?” Yes, bad stuff follows me around like a second skin. Like the time I locked my keys on the seat of my car at the car wash. Or the time I accidentally took off his side mirror trying to back his car into the garage. Or the time I fell off the roof trying to hang Christmas lights. He drove to my house, pulled out some tool, and cut the metal on the key ring, laughing the whole time. He took before and after pictures with his camera phone because he said that no one would believe it if they didn’t see it for themselves.

This is yet another example of why I’m called ‘Typhoid Mary’ in my family.

State of the Union: Sheepish
Listening to: Not a damn thing

Edited: August 28th, 2008

My So Called Love Life: Warpath

I ran into this guy I used to date three years ago. In the course of less than five minutes, he managed to piss me off and make me want to pick up my book bag and brain him with it. This is not one of those entries where I feel sorry for myself. This is one of those entries where I want to kick my OWN ass for being stupid. I feel compelled to get this off my chest. I think just about everyone has experienced it and, if you haven’t, consider yourself blessed. *Warning, there is some foul language in this and it matches my foul mood*

I hate it when you spend time cultivating a relationship, going through all the motions, putting up with the other person’s craziness, letting them work out their angst and issues out on you because you can SEE the potential in them and you just KNOW that they will be a FABULOUS husband or wife once they get their issues resolved. You get them to that perfect place and then you break up over some trivial bullshit that could have held off for a minute and then that fool goes out and marries the FIRST FUCKING SKANK they date after you. What. The. Hell. Is. Up. With. That?

You put in the man hours. You did all the heavy lifting. You got them to where they cared about personal hygiene and their appearance. You got them to get that perfect haircut after months/years of looking like a chia head. You got them to stop wearing scroungy jeans and ratty t-shirts and into the button down with the nice slacks. You got them out of the flip flops they wore all through college and into the Cole Haans. You got them off their butt and into the gym. You taught them that it is unacceptable for a man to drink wine coolers, that really *good* wine cannot be bought by the box or the jug, that Boone’s Farm is unacceptable after you turn 21 and can legally purchase your own booze, and that Coors Lite is NOT real beer.

You got them to release the controller, to step away from the PS3, and to socialize with normal, real life people and not just the characters in WoW or Madden. You taught them that magazines do not really count as deep reading, that there is more to debate about than Star Trek vs. Star Gate, and that there is more to life than Halo and Grand Theft Auto (Okay, not much, but some).

It sucks hairy, stinky BALLS that you put in the man hours and someone else gets to reap the rewards. It’s like making it into the Playboy Mansion and there being no bunnies, like going to a shoe sale and every pair that you like is not available in your size. It’ like watching the person in line in front of you buy the last concert ticket to the greatest reunion tour EVER or going to the beach and it rain the whole time. It’s like taking a fat kid to a buffet and showing them all the wonderful, savory dishes that are available and then handing them the frozen dinner from Weight Watchers. It’s. Just. WRONG!!!!!

Moral of today’s lesson, kiddies: Don’t upgrade him/her until AFTER he/she marries you. No use letting someone else runaway with your masterpiece.

State of the Union: Pissed off
Listening to: Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana

Edited: August 27th, 2008

WTF of the Day

How does it cost me less money to send a package to Ben in Canada than it does to ship a package in the United States? WTF is up with that? It only cost me three more dollars to send my package to Twisteh in the U.K. That is just wrong.

I also caused a WTF moment today. I went to go drop all my gifty meme packages at the post office today. Then, I went into Palm Beach Tan next to the post office and asked them how much it cost for twenty minutes on one of their beds. The chick behind the counter looked at me like, “WTF?” because, well, hellllooo, I’m black, but I just stood there patiently, looking at her like she was the stupid one. She was completely thrown off her game when I started asking all kinds of questions that showed I was knowledgeable about tanning.

She was pulling out the paperwork for me to fill out when I finally let her know that I went in there on accident. I meant to go to Food Shui which is right in between the post office and tanning place.

She looked relieved and also like she wanted to slap me all at the same time! I am such an evil little stinker…..

State of the Union: Tickled
Listening to: Violet Hill by Coldplay

Edited: August 26th, 2008

Rant: The Cookie Monster Tells It Like It Is

The Cookie Monster has graciously agreed to provide the pictorials today for my rant.

My Mac desktop is almost out of hard disk space. That’s the computer I download all my music that “doesn’t have their papers” to. Now, I need to find some geeky Mac boy to help me.

I’m on a diet. I’m supposed to be eschewing carb and sugar packed goodies in favor of healthy snacks.

I’ve been doing this for about three weeks now. Wanna know where I am in terms of progress?

I left my phone at home yesterday. I had to go home during lunch and get it because I felt bereft because I couldn’t text. Yes, I am a texting crackhead.

Everyone is seriously annoying me today. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I am in a crap mood and your best bet is to leave me alone. People keep calling me and texting me and coming up to me to solve their problems. I am two seconds away from exploding.

I actually watched Sesame Street with my friend’s little girl. Why is the Cookie Monster not allowed to eat cookies? That’s a bunch of crap. He’s the COOKIE monster, people. Grrr.

School starts next week and my tuition is out of this world. I agree with Margaret Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility. Piracy is our only option. At this point, there only seems to be one other option open to me.

I need to hang up all my clothes. No, I still haven’t done it. I have not been looking like my usual fashionista self because I can’t find all my coordinating accessories because they are buried under my clothes. My closet looks like Mt. Vesuvius exploded and left clothes everywhere. Oh well, I have to remind myself that even fashion icons like Heidi can’t look 100% “on” all the time……

State of the Union: In dire need of COOKIES!!!!!

Listening to: When I Grow Up by the Pussy Cat Dolls

Edited: August 26th, 2008

Events: Hodgety Podgety

I am beyond tired right about now. My little sister and my friend’s daughter came over last night for a “Little Sister Slumber Party.” Basically, they have older brothers that are easily irritated so they came over to my apartment for fun. They had pizza and hot wings and cookies. They stayed up until 2 painting finger nails and watching Nickelodeon and Disney Channel and then were back at it at the butt crack of dawn today before going for a swim. If I never hear another little girl giggling it will be too soon, but they had fun.

Their new names are “Princess Lily Pad” and “Princess Anaconda.” (Their names are Leeann and Ana) The next time they come, they have planned a “fashion show” and “beauty contest” wearing my “sparkly” dresses, high heels and makeup. I am definitely hiding my tiara seeing as how they mangled my poor slinky to death.

After dropping them off, I went to run errands and got all the gifts for my gifty memes. It’s too late to send them today, as the post office is closed, but keep your eyes peeled, people for “Slayer Survival Kits” that are coming your way. I think you will be able to tell, by some of the items in there, that I really do pay attention to what you blog about.

I’m headed to a ‘Sunset Cruise” with my dad for one of his friend’s birthdays. Steak, shrimp, sushi? I’m there. And champagne, too? I’m in high cotton, as my nana used to say……….

State of the Union: Hongry
Listening to: Glamorous by Fergie

Edited: August 26th, 2008

Amigos: Photos

It’s 5:35 a.m. and I can’t sleep. I already did some unpacking before my selective ADD kicked in (Selective because it only flares up when it’s something I don’t want to do) and I set myself to the task of finding my card reader. After digging in four different spots: Ta Dah!

This is a picture of all the things Ben sent me for the Gift Meme.

Julie doesn’t want any of her pictures up on the internet because she thinks her stalker ex boyfriend/baby daddy will find them. (Even though I don’t know him, have never met him, and 98% of my friends don’t know I have a blog, but whatever). So, as a compromise, the only pictures that will be shown will be non-alcohol and non her-boobs-hanging-out-of-whatever-outfit-she-happens-to- be-wearing, so that pretty much cuts out most of her pictures, but here’s a couple from her husband’s birthday party.

Julie and Mario.

Drunken whores!

Melody disproves Marlena’s theory that redheads are ugly.

Here are some pictures from our improv show at Kick Butt.

Sonya is so talented, it’s scary. It’s like she has no bones and can make her body do any type of contortion. She’s always moving too fast for cameras to capture the essence of her.

This is from my first show at Kick Butt. Sonya is my hero.We show that you can be a bad ass dancer and not look like a twig.

Tasmia and Dee Dee doing a duet dance.

I made a belly dance outfit and then packed it away during my move right before our second improv show, so I took one of my hip scarves and turned it into a shirt. Everyone was impressed. I’m not sure if it was because I did a good job (no one knew it was a hip scarf until I told them) or because they were impressed my boobs didn’t pop out while I was dancing.

Dude, my tan lines are STILL here from Cancun in May.

Here are pictures from the Pageant of the Fairy Queen.

Z-Helene’s outfit was outrageous. She took the outfit I gave her (the gold parts) and “augmented” them. I think she had a color to represent every fairy in the pageant.

Here is my heinous fairy outfit. I really do look like the Great Pumpkin from the Charlie Brown Special. She sewed the shirt together and just cut holes for my head and arms to pop out of, so I went in and fixed them to make a proper shirt with seams,made the shirt a V neck and put gold leaf accents. I sewed orange and gold tulle and net to the burnt orange hip belt that she made. I would have cut the neckline lower, but I didn’t want to be the skank fairy

Tas and I hamming it up in the ugliest costumes in the history of the free world.

Shayla’s husband took these really awesome pictures out in the audience. I need to find the cd she put them on. I will post them once I locate it under the mountains of paperwork on my desk at work.

State of the Union: Pictorial (Can I say picture-y?)

Listening to: Viva la Vida by Coldplay

Edited: August 26th, 2008

Events: Busy Bee? Busy Beaver? Just Busy

This will be the hodgety-podgety of all entries because there are so many random things to talk about. For all of you Gifty Meme people, I will be shopping for the last of your items this week. Why is it taking so long, you ask? Because I actually thought about what I was going to send you. You’re going to get some funky weird Austin/Texas things and then some “Hmmm, how well do I think I know you” type things. Be patient. They are coming.

We were the showcase in the Troupe Competition. Our dance was called the Pageant of the Fairy Queen. It was a riot. My instructor’s costume was a riot. My friend’s husband took pictures during the performance and I will get the posted as soon as he forks them over. I have pictures of my monstrosity of a costume and from Kick Butt. I will post those as soon as I get home as I think I know where I put my card reader.

I’m kinda sorta dating this Indian guy. We’re going to have problems, I can already tell. Both of us are used getting our own way so we have a situation where there are too many generals and not enough soldiers. I don’t like people telling me what to do and I don’t like people trying to change my mind when I’ve already been quite clear on my position about certain things. The more he tries to change my mind, the more obstinate I become. He’ll learn. Like my nana used to say,” A hard head makes a soft ass.”

I’m almost finished unpacking all my things. My clothes weighed so much that some of the shelf brackets are coming out of the wall and I need to replace them. Me with a drill? This should be interesting. Everyone duck for cover!

This weekend was the six month anniversary of my nana’s death, so everyone in my family was feeling kinda blue. My dad, in for an impromptu visit, assessed the situation and decided that we needed to go to Vegas so that I would feel better. I’m not stupid. I know it was an excuse to run off with one of his little girlfriends, but only a fool would kick up a fuss and risk missing out on a free trip to Vegas and I may be a lot of things, but I ain’t a fool……

State of the Union: Busy
Listening to: Won’t Go Home Without You by Maroon 5

Edited: August 26th, 2008

All About Me: Open

You ever had a secret that no one knew about? A place, maybe, that you went that no one knew about that you could go to and feel safe? I had that. Or, at least, I thought I did. I didn’t hide it, per se, I just didn’t advertise it. I needed some place to go that I could be myself in and not have to hide how I really feel. I could be me and not worry about what other people would think or how my thoughts and actions would change their perception of me.

Yeah, well my secret place got violated today. I say violated because he wasn’t wanted or invited. I don’t think he even meant to bring it up, but he did, so now my secret place, known only to a person or two, has been compromised. Now, I have to resort to lock and key, or, in this case, usernames and safe lists to protect myself.

I know that it’s my own fault for not safeguarding it, but, I thought I was safe. Most people don’t notice things that are meant to be hidden when you keep them out in plain sight………

State of the Union: Perturbed
Listening to: Sexy Mistake by the Chalets

Edited: August 26th, 2008

Amigos: What About Your Friends

Yes, I am singing the TLC song right now, but it does bring me to something I’ve been meaning to blog about for a while now. Last night, as I couldn’t sleep from the heartburn I get after eating steak late at night (Damn you, Texas Land and Cattle!), I started thinking about my circle of friends. I have friends from work, a few friends from school, friends from various jobs and friends I only see when I go to the bar. Rarely, rarely do they intermingle. I keep my life compartmentalized. Most of my friends don’t know each other. 99.9% of my friends will never meet my family.

I realized last night that most of my friends do not live in Austin. They’ve moved to different cities in Texas, to different states and to different countries. I still email them, or talk to them through My Space, or call them. Even though they aren’t here anymore, I still feel the bond to them, so much so, that I never sought replacements for them. Not that they can be replaced in my affections or in my heart, but I would seek another person to replace the physical void that they left.

I know I should get out and make new friends. I have been holed up at home for a while now. I had Gianni, so I didn’t need a lot of friends because he was a three ring circus all by himself. I think part of the problem (for lack of a better word) is you guys. My online friends. You blog too much. You lead interesting lives. I have more fun sitting here, reading about your happiness, your sadness, your triumphs, and your disappointments than I do going out. And you wanna know what’s bad? Even when I am out, I will find myself thinking about you, worrying about you, and wondering if that issue you’ve been puzzled over or fretting about has resolved itself.

It is a testament to how much I love you guys that I care more about what you think than some of my “real life” friends. I can be flipping out and you will calm me down, you are genuinely happy when I am happy and you always find the right thing to say or some silly joke or picture to make it okay when I’m sad. Every guy that I date knows that I blog. I say it with pride. (I also tell them that a posse from various states and countries around the world will band together and collectively kick their ass if they mess me about).

I am a mean-hearted, selfish person at times and I don’t give credit where it’s due, so I am saying it now. Thank you, Online Friend, for being my pillar of support, for being my personal cheering section, and for teaching me everyday, with words and actions, what being a good friend is. Thank you for allowing me to have a glimpse into your world and for opening yourself up to me. Some people think it’s nuts that I am so open about my life with you guys. Some people think that “online” means perverted or creepy. I think that they are just jealous.

State of the Union: So Proud of my Crew

Listening to: Smile by Lily Allen

Edited: August 26th, 2008