Church Sign Generator:
A person can have so much fun with this.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Friday, November 25, 2005
Very Funny Movie: Just Friends
I just got back from seeing the movie Just Friends. Oh my God was it funny! I didn't expect it to be funny, but everything in our theater looked lame (like Rent, Yours - Mine & Ours) and Yahoo Movies - critics and regular ole' Joe reviewers liked it, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I really did laugh my ass off, had to question how it was going to end once, but mainly laughed a lot. Stay through the closing credits for a really hilarious lip synch, and "Forgiveness" sung by Anna Faris of Scary Movie fame. Fucking hilarious.
Well, that was my hot date for the weekend. It was nice to go somewhere alone with Venti. I did have a panic attack (as usual) at first when we got into our seats at the theater, but I took a xanax and it went away pretty much as soon as the movie started. I'm so glad the panic passed so I could watch this movie instead of running out of the theater. ;) Thank you Venti for getting me through that anxiety.
Well, that was my hot date for the weekend. It was nice to go somewhere alone with Venti. I did have a panic attack (as usual) at first when we got into our seats at the theater, but I took a xanax and it went away pretty much as soon as the movie started. I'm so glad the panic passed so I could watch this movie instead of running out of the theater. ;) Thank you Venti for getting me through that anxiety.
Decaf Family Gains Set of Wheels
Well, Grande Decaf got his first car today. He's incredibly happy as the picture should show. The car is kind of goopy in this picture, but it cleaned up really nicely. The car is a 1972 Volvo 145E. What's scary is that this car is a year younger than me. I think I've held up better than the car, but if Grande succeeds with all of his plans for the new love of his life, then that may change. This kid is totally psyched. I am very happy that he's very happy. It's a good feeling. (Thank you Venti!!!)
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Vens-daiye
Well, it's Wednesday. Some random Wednesday in the middle of November. This also reminds me that Thanksgiving is coming soon, and that means that Christmas is close behind. Damn.
Anyway, so I hate Virginia. The people who live in that state, not the state itself - although the weather sucks, the roads suck, the traffic sucks, the cost of everything sucks - oh, wait - I DO hate all of Virginia. I had to force myself to get in contact with some fucktard from Virginia today, and I didn't like it one bit. I had to call a pharmacy there about my Xanax XR prescription, which Dr. Decaf gave me several months worth of refills on - and yet, (not) surprisingly, the Virginia pharmacy has no record of the refills. They actually lost several months worth of refills, and now I'm out of Xanax XR, and nobody cares.
I'm actually glad this happened. I'll tell you why. I want off of it. The stuff is awful. It's a marketing exclamation point - I mean, you literally can NOT wean yourself off of it without spending more money, and taking a year or two to do it. Once you start it - you're stuck on it forever - however, there is a loophole. If - and it's a pretty longshot of a an IF - you have generic xanax, or alprazolam, (and I do) you can take that at the same milligrams and then cut back from there. So many people can not get a doctor to prescribe xanax, and I'm really worried about that for myself in the future - but for now I'm just focused on getting the hell off of the XR. It's made me stupid, fat, - and as I've said before - still I panic. Oh, AND it's a HELL of a lot more expensive.
Anyway, so I may be rather anxious the next few days - we shall see. I think I'll be okay though.
Moving on...
I have been spending way too much time on the web tonight exploring/reading about Bradley Whitford. I don't know what the draw is, I really don't - but I just can't get enough of the guy. I'll have to think on it and elaborate some day.
I wonder what the difference between peanuts and cocktail peanuts is. I bought these peanuts, and when I did I couldn't help but to think of my grandfather who always had a jar of peanuts somewhere in the house. Usually next to chocolate and a crossword puzzle. Anyway, I realize now that I don't like cocktail peanuts, and so next time I'll just buy the goddamn honey roasted peanuts that I know I do like.
Who talks about peanuts in a blog??? Wait a minute! Maybe the cocktail peanuts, being bland and all, are called cocktail peanuts so you know to serve them at cocktail parties when you don't want people to stay very long. "Hmm...yeah, these Steven's are real nice people, but the food at this party sucks...wanna go get some Thai food honey? I'll get our coats - tell them the sitter called, and the kids are sick."
Maybe that also means that my grandfather always had cocktail peanuts setting out when we visited because he didn't want us to stay long. We never stayed long anyway. My grandmother always made a nasty pork roast, and my mother could not stop her eyes from bulging out of her head any time my sister or I would scrape our forks against the expensive dinnerware. I swear she'd watch every single sip we took out of my grandmother's glasses, too. First of all - who let's a couple of little kids use expensive stemware, (grandparents who don't care because they're just glasses?) - and second of all - why did my mother spend more time with her eyes bulging out of her head than visiting with family? I don't think my mom liked us as kids, and she pretty much doesn't like as adults, either.
Oh my God. Get this. So, my sister goes down to visit my mom. My mom owns a semi-large daycare center, and was having computer problems. My sister went in to see if she could straighten said problems out, and while she was there and online she set up Outlook to retreive her own email, and never REMOVED the account from Outlook. So for MONTHS my mother has been getting every single piece of email sent to my sister, and the worst part is that she said NOTHING. And she read them all, too. I know this because she has said things she couldn't have possibly known because I wrote them to my sister, and only my sister. How rude is that? I mean, yeah, okay, Sister Decaf was stupid for not removing her email account, but damn - if you're gonna score on downloading someone's email like that at least don't fucking tell anyone! Who wouldn't have done the same thing? Really. Most people, if not 99% of them, would have kept on reading the emails (which quite often mentioned made mention of them in good and bad ways) even though, yes, they SHOULD have told the person - "hey, I'm getting your email - how do I stop that?"
Bottom line? I wonder what the hell bad things I've said about my mother to my sister in the past few months!!!!
Change of subject.
I really need to get to a dentist. Well, I have the worst case of needing to see a dentist, but Tall and Grande both need to see one, too. Both have cavities. I need a root canal and a filling. The last time I was at a dentist it was to get my wisdom teeth pulled. I had a nasty nasty panic attack, but it ended up not being a big deal. I'm a chicken shit, I know. I really am not looking forward to going. :(
My kitten is still adorable. She's got bathroom issues, but she's still adorable. Her name is Decaf Kitty, although she is anything but decaffeinated. Very playful when she's not pooing.
While I'm adding pictures I may as well include one of me with my pink hair.
I know that I don't post pictures of myself on my blog, and I probably shouldn't do this because some far off day it will probably get me in trouble - but here I am, Decaf herself, with pink hair. I'm choosing this picture because it's out of focus and Venti thinks I'm beautiful in it. And no - not because it's out of focus. Damn, you really can't see the pink in this picture can you? 
I'll try another one....
Well, you still can't see it, but trust me, it's pink. I'll have to go outside and get a "natural light" shot at some point.
Damn, I need Anbesol. And a cigarette. I wonder if those are a bad combination?
Okay, so this is all for tonight. I'll keep you posted on how I'm doing sans Xanax XR, and with everything else.
Let me know if I'm totally wrong about Virginia - if anyone can think of anything that doesn't suck about it, leave a comment. (No - I'm not one to let go of grudges.)
Where the FUCK is the Anbesol?????
Anyway, so I hate Virginia. The people who live in that state, not the state itself - although the weather sucks, the roads suck, the traffic sucks, the cost of everything sucks - oh, wait - I DO hate all of Virginia. I had to force myself to get in contact with some fucktard from Virginia today, and I didn't like it one bit. I had to call a pharmacy there about my Xanax XR prescription, which Dr. Decaf gave me several months worth of refills on - and yet, (not) surprisingly, the Virginia pharmacy has no record of the refills. They actually lost several months worth of refills, and now I'm out of Xanax XR, and nobody cares.
I'm actually glad this happened. I'll tell you why. I want off of it. The stuff is awful. It's a marketing exclamation point - I mean, you literally can NOT wean yourself off of it without spending more money, and taking a year or two to do it. Once you start it - you're stuck on it forever - however, there is a loophole. If - and it's a pretty longshot of a an IF - you have generic xanax, or alprazolam, (and I do) you can take that at the same milligrams and then cut back from there. So many people can not get a doctor to prescribe xanax, and I'm really worried about that for myself in the future - but for now I'm just focused on getting the hell off of the XR. It's made me stupid, fat, - and as I've said before - still I panic. Oh, AND it's a HELL of a lot more expensive.
Anyway, so I may be rather anxious the next few days - we shall see. I think I'll be okay though.
Moving on...
I have been spending way too much time on the web tonight exploring/reading about Bradley Whitford. I don't know what the draw is, I really don't - but I just can't get enough of the guy. I'll have to think on it and elaborate some day.
I wonder what the difference between peanuts and cocktail peanuts is. I bought these peanuts, and when I did I couldn't help but to think of my grandfather who always had a jar of peanuts somewhere in the house. Usually next to chocolate and a crossword puzzle. Anyway, I realize now that I don't like cocktail peanuts, and so next time I'll just buy the goddamn honey roasted peanuts that I know I do like.
Who talks about peanuts in a blog??? Wait a minute! Maybe the cocktail peanuts, being bland and all, are called cocktail peanuts so you know to serve them at cocktail parties when you don't want people to stay very long. "Hmm...yeah, these Steven's are real nice people, but the food at this party sucks...wanna go get some Thai food honey? I'll get our coats - tell them the sitter called, and the kids are sick."
Maybe that also means that my grandfather always had cocktail peanuts setting out when we visited because he didn't want us to stay long. We never stayed long anyway. My grandmother always made a nasty pork roast, and my mother could not stop her eyes from bulging out of her head any time my sister or I would scrape our forks against the expensive dinnerware. I swear she'd watch every single sip we took out of my grandmother's glasses, too. First of all - who let's a couple of little kids use expensive stemware, (grandparents who don't care because they're just glasses?) - and second of all - why did my mother spend more time with her eyes bulging out of her head than visiting with family? I don't think my mom liked us as kids, and she pretty much doesn't like as adults, either.
Oh my God. Get this. So, my sister goes down to visit my mom. My mom owns a semi-large daycare center, and was having computer problems. My sister went in to see if she could straighten said problems out, and while she was there and online she set up Outlook to retreive her own email, and never REMOVED the account from Outlook. So for MONTHS my mother has been getting every single piece of email sent to my sister, and the worst part is that she said NOTHING. And she read them all, too. I know this because she has said things she couldn't have possibly known because I wrote them to my sister, and only my sister. How rude is that? I mean, yeah, okay, Sister Decaf was stupid for not removing her email account, but damn - if you're gonna score on downloading someone's email like that at least don't fucking tell anyone! Who wouldn't have done the same thing? Really. Most people, if not 99% of them, would have kept on reading the emails (which quite often mentioned made mention of them in good and bad ways) even though, yes, they SHOULD have told the person - "hey, I'm getting your email - how do I stop that?"
Bottom line? I wonder what the hell bad things I've said about my mother to my sister in the past few months!!!!
Change of subject.
I really need to get to a dentist. Well, I have the worst case of needing to see a dentist, but Tall and Grande both need to see one, too. Both have cavities. I need a root canal and a filling. The last time I was at a dentist it was to get my wisdom teeth pulled. I had a nasty nasty panic attack, but it ended up not being a big deal. I'm a chicken shit, I know. I really am not looking forward to going. :(
My kitten is still adorable. She's got bathroom issues, but she's still adorable. Her name is Decaf Kitty, although she is anything but decaffeinated. Very playful when she's not pooing.
While I'm adding pictures I may as well include one of me with my pink hair.
I know that I don't post pictures of myself on my blog, and I probably shouldn't do this because some far off day it will probably get me in trouble - but here I am, Decaf herself, with pink hair. I'm choosing this picture because it's out of focus and Venti thinks I'm beautiful in it. And no - not because it's out of focus. Damn, you really can't see the pink in this picture can you? 
I'll try another one....Well, you still can't see it, but trust me, it's pink. I'll have to go outside and get a "natural light" shot at some point.
Damn, I need Anbesol. And a cigarette. I wonder if those are a bad combination?
Okay, so this is all for tonight. I'll keep you posted on how I'm doing sans Xanax XR, and with everything else.
Let me know if I'm totally wrong about Virginia - if anyone can think of anything that doesn't suck about it, leave a comment. (No - I'm not one to let go of grudges.)
Where the FUCK is the Anbesol?????
Thursday, November 10, 2005
The Lights Are On, But Nobody's Home
I've heard that saying so many times in my life - not directed at me, or anything, just you know - in passing. Now, you see or meet people like this all the time. You swear you can hear the wind rushing through one ear and out the other with them. There's just nothing going on in there.
It occurred to me today that I have the absolute opposite problem.
It must appear to people that I am of the "lights are on, but nobody's home" variety, though. I mean, it just must. I am expressionless almost all of the time. I have no telling emotions to give anyone a clue that there's even a single thought floating through my mind at all. Only someone who really, really knows my eyes would be able to tell what I'm feeling - and even then it would be hard.
Inside I am a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas that I can never shut off. I want to do, say, feel, act, so many things. My body doesn't respond like it's supposed to, though. I feel like I'm a prisoner. I scream at myself internally to get off my ass and ACT - move, say, emote...but nothing happens. I just sit and my body is in this terrible zone. I really have to fight it to do anything.
I know it's the medicine that I'm taking that's making me feel like this, and yet I cannot muster up the ... anything ... to call a doctor and make an appointment to talk to them about this. I need to get off of the xanax xr - and perhaps the lexapro, too. Just go drug free and see what it feels like to FEEL something again.
On the outside I have put 40 pounds on my body that wasn't there the day my doctor told me - assured me - that these medicines would NOT make me gain weight. I know for a solid fact that when I lose weight, look good, and feel good about how I look - that my panic attacks all but disappear. My anxiety lifts with every pound lost - and yet fucktard doctors give me this medicine that makes me gain weight. Dumb fucks. God, and he seemed so goddamn certain that I wasn't going to gain weight from it. When I told him I was gaining he said it was because I'd cut back on smoking, and that it certainly wasn't the medicines. Ideally I'd like to stop taking the Xanax XR and the Lexapro, and just go back to taking regular xanax as needed. Hell, the medicines aren't doing much, that's for sure. I am still totally phobic of driving a car, totally phobic of exercise, my heart, showers, smoking, walking, sleeping...and you may have noticed a few new phobias in there - yes, they didn't start until after I started taking these medicines that were supposed to make my anxiety go away. How about a big WHAT THE FUCK???
I feel like my life is falling apart around me. I have no control over anything. I especially have no control of my children who love to take advantage of me, mock me, say nasty things about me when I've pissed them off - which seems quite often lately. Grande will no longer be going to regular school - I've come to the conclusion that it's just not working for him so why put him through the misery. So - we make this decision after he's skipped school for a week, and another week is going by and he's not really made any moves to get started on independent home schooling. Of course, we will have to get that all started for him - and hell, probably do his work for him, too.
And when I say "we" - I mean Venti, because lately I can't even bring myself to make a goddamned phone call when I need to.
Venti is in Chicago right now and although he'll be home soon enough - man, do I really miss him. It doesn't sound like he's having a whole lot of fun there, but at least the scenery is different for him. He's taking a class. I wish I was taking a class.
I'm not doing much of anything lately, to be honest. I get up, change and feed Short Decaf before turning on Blue's Clues or something equally mind-numbing, will the coffee pot to hurry the fuck up, sit down and check my email, drink my coffee (starting drinking it sans sugar), and then I have nothing to do - or nothing that I want to do - until Venti gets home at night. I pretty much walk around life in an effort to make sure that Short Decaf is fed, entertained, and clean. He's such a precious little boy. But, that's my life.
Books help pass the time when I feel like reading them.
The name of the book I just finished reading about 15 minutes ago was The Time Traveler's Wife. It was okay. I wish I wouldn't have bought it because I know I'll never want to read it again. It was a complex story, and I don't think I could write a better one than it - but eh, I just didn't really enjoy the ending. I'm a happy ending sort of person.
So many books. I'd really rather be writing, but I don't have much of an urge to do that lately. My panic/pregnancy book is about 3/4's of the way done, and I could easily finish it if I just opened the damn thing up and started typing - and yet, I don't. And I don't know why. From birth I've NEVER been the type of person to finish a project. I'm really into starting them, though. Before Venti left he dug out his really cool art set for me because I had a notion that I wanted to do some painting or something. It's like five days later, and I have yet to paint anything.
I often wonder if I'm depressed. There must be a test online to determine that - but, to be honest, I don't need one. I'm not depressed - I'm fucking bored. I need some friends. Venti wishes that I had one really good friend other than him who REALLY gets me. I do have that friend, but she's in Pennsylvania working the night shift at some warehouse at the moment. My sister. I miss her. A lot more than I ever imagined being able to miss her.
There's not much of a life for me here in Washington yet. I'm sure I'll make one as the years pass and we grow some roots, but for right now I have nothing here. Because I cannot walk anywhere or drive anywhere I only have one view, and that's of nothing but big evergreen trees surrounding my house. Well - not MY house - but the house we get to stay in for the next few months at a ridiculously low cost. I wonder how much such a limited view takes a toll on a person? I mean, if my view was vast - mountains, water, the town - maybe I'd feel differently, but now I feel like I'm in a green cocoon where I really have to strain to see what the sky looks like during the day. Yes, I do go outside - to smoke. Every now and then I walk around the yard for a little bit, but then I have to quickly go back inside before Short Decaf finds a pair of scissors or a magic marker or something.
He has successfully locked me out of the house once already. I had to kick the door in, and Venti had to patch it with wood putty and nails. He has also attempted to lock me out of the house about a hundred times. So - smoking outside isn't a whole lot of fun. I take my keys with me and stand on the porch with my foot against the door, which is cracked open just a bit, just to ensure I never have to kick in the damn door again.
So, I have been thinking about hypnosis again. I got the number of a doctor here in my town who says that one of his specialties is panic disorder, and he also specializes in hypnotherapy. Man, I'd just LOVE that. I would love, love, love to be hypnotized and have the insurance company have to pay for it. I would also love for it to help with the phobias.
To be honest, I know that just TALKING to someone is going to help. I don't get to talk very often. I'm more like the designated listener in the family. Anyway, the last time I had a hideous driving phobia I was over it within three weeks after just talking to a psychologist. That was really cool, and got me a big chunk of my life back. I hope this guy is taking new patients, and I hope he's kind, gentle, and interested. And most of all, patient.
Well, I've written a lot, and I needed to - so whoever is reading this - thanks for the time. If anyone is wondering??? Yes, indeed, I am okay.
It occurred to me today that I have the absolute opposite problem.
It must appear to people that I am of the "lights are on, but nobody's home" variety, though. I mean, it just must. I am expressionless almost all of the time. I have no telling emotions to give anyone a clue that there's even a single thought floating through my mind at all. Only someone who really, really knows my eyes would be able to tell what I'm feeling - and even then it would be hard.
Inside I am a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas that I can never shut off. I want to do, say, feel, act, so many things. My body doesn't respond like it's supposed to, though. I feel like I'm a prisoner. I scream at myself internally to get off my ass and ACT - move, say, emote...but nothing happens. I just sit and my body is in this terrible zone. I really have to fight it to do anything.
I know it's the medicine that I'm taking that's making me feel like this, and yet I cannot muster up the ... anything ... to call a doctor and make an appointment to talk to them about this. I need to get off of the xanax xr - and perhaps the lexapro, too. Just go drug free and see what it feels like to FEEL something again.
On the outside I have put 40 pounds on my body that wasn't there the day my doctor told me - assured me - that these medicines would NOT make me gain weight. I know for a solid fact that when I lose weight, look good, and feel good about how I look - that my panic attacks all but disappear. My anxiety lifts with every pound lost - and yet fucktard doctors give me this medicine that makes me gain weight. Dumb fucks. God, and he seemed so goddamn certain that I wasn't going to gain weight from it. When I told him I was gaining he said it was because I'd cut back on smoking, and that it certainly wasn't the medicines. Ideally I'd like to stop taking the Xanax XR and the Lexapro, and just go back to taking regular xanax as needed. Hell, the medicines aren't doing much, that's for sure. I am still totally phobic of driving a car, totally phobic of exercise, my heart, showers, smoking, walking, sleeping...and you may have noticed a few new phobias in there - yes, they didn't start until after I started taking these medicines that were supposed to make my anxiety go away. How about a big WHAT THE FUCK???
I feel like my life is falling apart around me. I have no control over anything. I especially have no control of my children who love to take advantage of me, mock me, say nasty things about me when I've pissed them off - which seems quite often lately. Grande will no longer be going to regular school - I've come to the conclusion that it's just not working for him so why put him through the misery. So - we make this decision after he's skipped school for a week, and another week is going by and he's not really made any moves to get started on independent home schooling. Of course, we will have to get that all started for him - and hell, probably do his work for him, too.
And when I say "we" - I mean Venti, because lately I can't even bring myself to make a goddamned phone call when I need to.
Venti is in Chicago right now and although he'll be home soon enough - man, do I really miss him. It doesn't sound like he's having a whole lot of fun there, but at least the scenery is different for him. He's taking a class. I wish I was taking a class.
I'm not doing much of anything lately, to be honest. I get up, change and feed Short Decaf before turning on Blue's Clues or something equally mind-numbing, will the coffee pot to hurry the fuck up, sit down and check my email, drink my coffee (starting drinking it sans sugar), and then I have nothing to do - or nothing that I want to do - until Venti gets home at night. I pretty much walk around life in an effort to make sure that Short Decaf is fed, entertained, and clean. He's such a precious little boy. But, that's my life.
Books help pass the time when I feel like reading them.
The name of the book I just finished reading about 15 minutes ago was The Time Traveler's Wife. It was okay. I wish I wouldn't have bought it because I know I'll never want to read it again. It was a complex story, and I don't think I could write a better one than it - but eh, I just didn't really enjoy the ending. I'm a happy ending sort of person.
So many books. I'd really rather be writing, but I don't have much of an urge to do that lately. My panic/pregnancy book is about 3/4's of the way done, and I could easily finish it if I just opened the damn thing up and started typing - and yet, I don't. And I don't know why. From birth I've NEVER been the type of person to finish a project. I'm really into starting them, though. Before Venti left he dug out his really cool art set for me because I had a notion that I wanted to do some painting or something. It's like five days later, and I have yet to paint anything.
I often wonder if I'm depressed. There must be a test online to determine that - but, to be honest, I don't need one. I'm not depressed - I'm fucking bored. I need some friends. Venti wishes that I had one really good friend other than him who REALLY gets me. I do have that friend, but she's in Pennsylvania working the night shift at some warehouse at the moment. My sister. I miss her. A lot more than I ever imagined being able to miss her.
There's not much of a life for me here in Washington yet. I'm sure I'll make one as the years pass and we grow some roots, but for right now I have nothing here. Because I cannot walk anywhere or drive anywhere I only have one view, and that's of nothing but big evergreen trees surrounding my house. Well - not MY house - but the house we get to stay in for the next few months at a ridiculously low cost. I wonder how much such a limited view takes a toll on a person? I mean, if my view was vast - mountains, water, the town - maybe I'd feel differently, but now I feel like I'm in a green cocoon where I really have to strain to see what the sky looks like during the day. Yes, I do go outside - to smoke. Every now and then I walk around the yard for a little bit, but then I have to quickly go back inside before Short Decaf finds a pair of scissors or a magic marker or something.
He has successfully locked me out of the house once already. I had to kick the door in, and Venti had to patch it with wood putty and nails. He has also attempted to lock me out of the house about a hundred times. So - smoking outside isn't a whole lot of fun. I take my keys with me and stand on the porch with my foot against the door, which is cracked open just a bit, just to ensure I never have to kick in the damn door again.
So, I have been thinking about hypnosis again. I got the number of a doctor here in my town who says that one of his specialties is panic disorder, and he also specializes in hypnotherapy. Man, I'd just LOVE that. I would love, love, love to be hypnotized and have the insurance company have to pay for it. I would also love for it to help with the phobias.
To be honest, I know that just TALKING to someone is going to help. I don't get to talk very often. I'm more like the designated listener in the family. Anyway, the last time I had a hideous driving phobia I was over it within three weeks after just talking to a psychologist. That was really cool, and got me a big chunk of my life back. I hope this guy is taking new patients, and I hope he's kind, gentle, and interested. And most of all, patient.
Well, I've written a lot, and I needed to - so whoever is reading this - thanks for the time. If anyone is wondering??? Yes, indeed, I am okay.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
RG = DS? If So Then = PO'd
Here's a toast of the finest, most expensive wine or liquor of your choosing to you - in the biggest glass I could find. May you not fuck up my marriage or life, and may you stay the fuck away from me for a while until I'm not so pissed off at you.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
morguefile.com : I'm cool.
One in 4.7 people who view my pictures on morguefile.com actually download them. Cool.
Views:
4,755
Downloads:
1,015
Views:
4,755
Downloads:
1,015
New Kitten Tomorrow
Or, well - today really since it's after midnight. I'm very excited about getting the new kitten. :) Venti and I picked it out on Saturday with Short Decaf's help. She had her "surgery" yesterday and now I'll have her very soon! I spent ALL my Google AdSense money on her, but she's going to be worth it. I really hope she's as much of a snuggly cat as she seemed to be at the Humane Society.
So Grande Decaf got my dad's computer running again. He died nearly five years ago and nobody has really touched his computer much since then. When I got ahold of it (from my sister's clutches) it didn't work very well, and I had to rescue all the emails. I exported them into a .pst file, but before I could take them off the hard drive it kind of "blew up". Grande actually blew it up by trying to plug a floppy drive into it while it was powered up. He did this about a year ago, and I didn't realize how much intense guilt he has been harboring over the situation ever since. Knowing that his grandfather's last words via email to anyone were on that computer, Grande really felt bad. However, now he's somehow fixed it and I got to read some of my dad's emails. He was so, so, so very supportive of everything I did. Man, I really miss him. As soon as I can get those emails off of that computer I'll post the last one he wrote to me - and the last one he wrote.
He was an awesome guy.
So, I had a lot of racing thoughts today. It was reminiscent of what I felt like the entire time I was pregnant. Absolutely horrible. A 1/2 of a Xanax took the feeling away, but it's just horrible to experience. I have a lot on my mind lately.
I've pissed off sister-in-law Decaf by not responding to an "annual cookie exchange/potluck/Chinese auction for an ornament" email invitation. She sent the "let me know" email a 9 days ago. Yes, I know - I need to grow a pair and just fucking reply to people even when the answer is one I know they won't like. Anyway, she called Venti and asked him about it - and so I had to pony up a response to her. I hope she's not too pissed. I think she is, though.
I just don't DO things like that. I mean, even if I wasn't agoraphobic, anxious, panic attack prone, and overweight (total body image issues here) - I STILL wouldn't be into "annual cookie exchange/potluck/Chinese auction for an ornament" parties. I'm not that kind of girl. Hell, I NEVER ONCE went to my own mother's annual Christmas cookie making get-together. Martha Stewart I am not - and that's one of the things I actually DO like about myself. I know some people would like to change that about me, but it's not going to happen.
Here is the portion of the email invite that regards what goes on at this party. I have highlighted the things in color and bold that DO NOT AT ALL APPEAL to me.
Let me just clear this up a bit by breaking it down:
I thought I got to put all that bullshit trying-to-fit-in shit behind me when I left my old life, but it always creeps back in, doesn't it? Somehow it always does, and I'm the one left feeling like a cast-out, creep, weirdo, not like everybody else....This totally, totally fucks with my having been okay with that for a while, and sets me WAY THE FUCK BACK.
Now I'm trying to figure out if I'll have enough money left after picking up my kitten tomorrow to buy a couple of boxes of brown hair dye to get rid of the pink streaks ... Why? Because people who ... no, woman - gaggles of women - who go to aerobics, cookie parties, etc., do NOT look at you like you FIT IN when you have hot pink fucking hair, and everyone else in the room has (a) brown flat hair, or (b) medium brown hair with blonde highlights, or (c) all gray hair. (I find those with all gray hair to be most forgiving.)
Anyway, so I'm feeling really bad about this. Obviously.
I need a fucking cigarette. (Still not smoking in the house - and still down to less than 10 cigarettes a day.)
Okay. Change of subject. I'm nervous about driving with J-Mac Decaf tomorrow to pick up the kitten. I like him. He has had panic attacks really bad (I mean REALLY bad), and so I know he knows what it's like - so that's great, but still - being in the passenger seat when anyone other than Venti is driving is really going to be a challenge. I hope that somehow it works out and that I can find a way to forget about that "silly phobia" - and just have a good time. J-Mac Decaf is a good guy - I think he's my only friend here.
So wish me luck with the whole kitten, driving, cookie thing.
So Grande Decaf got my dad's computer running again. He died nearly five years ago and nobody has really touched his computer much since then. When I got ahold of it (from my sister's clutches) it didn't work very well, and I had to rescue all the emails. I exported them into a .pst file, but before I could take them off the hard drive it kind of "blew up". Grande actually blew it up by trying to plug a floppy drive into it while it was powered up. He did this about a year ago, and I didn't realize how much intense guilt he has been harboring over the situation ever since. Knowing that his grandfather's last words via email to anyone were on that computer, Grande really felt bad. However, now he's somehow fixed it and I got to read some of my dad's emails. He was so, so, so very supportive of everything I did. Man, I really miss him. As soon as I can get those emails off of that computer I'll post the last one he wrote to me - and the last one he wrote.
He was an awesome guy.
So, I had a lot of racing thoughts today. It was reminiscent of what I felt like the entire time I was pregnant. Absolutely horrible. A 1/2 of a Xanax took the feeling away, but it's just horrible to experience. I have a lot on my mind lately.
I've pissed off sister-in-law Decaf by not responding to an "annual cookie exchange/potluck/Chinese auction for an ornament" email invitation. She sent the "let me know" email a 9 days ago. Yes, I know - I need to grow a pair and just fucking reply to people even when the answer is one I know they won't like. Anyway, she called Venti and asked him about it - and so I had to pony up a response to her. I hope she's not too pissed. I think she is, though.
I just don't DO things like that. I mean, even if I wasn't agoraphobic, anxious, panic attack prone, and overweight (total body image issues here) - I STILL wouldn't be into "annual cookie exchange/potluck/Chinese auction for an ornament" parties. I'm not that kind of girl. Hell, I NEVER ONCE went to my own mother's annual Christmas cookie making get-together. Martha Stewart I am not - and that's one of the things I actually DO like about myself. I know some people would like to change that about me, but it's not going to happen.
Here is the portion of the email invite that regards what goes on at this party. I have highlighted the things in color and bold that DO NOT AT ALL APPEAL to me.
Basically, [party-holder] takes a total of all people attending, lets us know how many cookies to make, and how many bundles. Everyone brings their little bundles, and exchanges them with everyone else. We have a potluck lunch, and then have the Chinese Auction for a Christmas ornament that you bring wrapped. It is always a ton of fun watching everyone "fight" over the coolest ornaments. You go home with about 15 different kinds of baked goodies, and everyone thinks you are the queen of the kitchen. [So-and-so] has come with me in years past, and had a great time. It's all women that party-holder teaches school with, and or has aerobics class with. Let me know if it sounds like fun, and I will forward the information to you when she replies. We could get together one night before the party and make our goodies over here if you would like.
Let me just clear this up a bit by breaking it down:
- Bundles: I really don't like the word bundle. I especially don't like making bundles of things.
- Potluck Lunch: This implies I have to cook and then eat in front of 12 to 15 women I don't know. I don't like chick things like this. There is always that one woman who makes something outrageous and you have to ooh and ahh over what everyone else has brought. I fucking hate that shit.
- Chinese Auction: This is another one of those stupid party games I hate. I'm going to go shopping and get a headache, a panic attack in the mall, and spend $20 on an ornament at the Hallmark Store just so I can get the hell out of the mall. This does not at all sound like fun to me. I don't like party games, and I don't like spending $20 on a "thing" and then going home with my $2 trade. I always get screwed at these things. I honestly do. The last time it happened was at a Christmas party with a bunch of Tupperware saleswomen. I brought THE coolest gifts, and took him total shit.
- Wrapped: To women going to a party like this - whatever needs to be wrapped had damn well better be done REALLY cool. Like, you just might want to MAKE the paper yourself, and use something jiggy like ostrich feathers as the last festive finishing touch. The fucking wrapping is a party game in itself. More ooohing and ahhhing. I hate that shit.
- ton of fun: I'm thinking it's actually not. Pretty sure, actually.
- "fight" over the coolest ornaments: This sounds so totally fucking mind-numbingly stupid that I can't even respond more than what I already have.
- everyone thinks: Why do I doubt this??????
- queen of the kitchen: More comparing. See how it's not a party? It's a Showcase Showdown. Bob-fucking-Barker should be there. I am DAMN good in the kitchen when I want to be, and when I want to be has nothing to do with 12 to 15 women I've never met before who CARE who is a queen of the kitchen or who has the coolest ornament and ACTUALLY WANTS to fight over it.
- aerobics: ugh. Bunch of skinny chicks. No thank you.
- goodies: I'm 34-years-old. I don't like to use the word "goodies." Okay, to each his own, and all that - anyone who wants to say it certainly CAN, but I refuse to do it. I don't actually think less of people who talk like this, it's just not "me."
I thought I got to put all that bullshit trying-to-fit-in shit behind me when I left my old life, but it always creeps back in, doesn't it? Somehow it always does, and I'm the one left feeling like a cast-out, creep, weirdo, not like everybody else....This totally, totally fucks with my having been okay with that for a while, and sets me WAY THE FUCK BACK.
Now I'm trying to figure out if I'll have enough money left after picking up my kitten tomorrow to buy a couple of boxes of brown hair dye to get rid of the pink streaks ... Why? Because people who ... no, woman - gaggles of women - who go to aerobics, cookie parties, etc., do NOT look at you like you FIT IN when you have hot pink fucking hair, and everyone else in the room has (a) brown flat hair, or (b) medium brown hair with blonde highlights, or (c) all gray hair. (I find those with all gray hair to be most forgiving.)
Anyway, so I'm feeling really bad about this. Obviously.
I need a fucking cigarette. (Still not smoking in the house - and still down to less than 10 cigarettes a day.)
Okay. Change of subject. I'm nervous about driving with J-Mac Decaf tomorrow to pick up the kitten. I like him. He has had panic attacks really bad (I mean REALLY bad), and so I know he knows what it's like - so that's great, but still - being in the passenger seat when anyone other than Venti is driving is really going to be a challenge. I hope that somehow it works out and that I can find a way to forget about that "silly phobia" - and just have a good time. J-Mac Decaf is a good guy - I think he's my only friend here.
So wish me luck with the whole kitten, driving, cookie thing.
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