This Happens When You've Got Three Things Going On

Boredom.
A bitchen digital camera.
A perverted sense of humor.

Oh - wait - I COULD have taken these pictures!

Earth Erotica Photography by Heather Firth

Earth Erotica Photography by Heather Firth

Another Tuesday Night

It's actually very early Wednesday morning.

Well, 4 out of 5 people in my house are now either sick or getting sick. I'm not sure who started it, but within the space of an hour I had one complaint of a super-sore throat, and then a coughing baby, and then my throat started to hurt. I don't like the sound of baby Decaf's cough - I hate when the kids are sick :(

I also hate being sick at the same time. That really sucks. However, I guess this explains why I was roasting hot when it was only 68 degrees in the house, and why I was so tired last night and today. Nice. Shit. I hate the sound of that sweet little baby's cough. :(

What sucks for me is that I can't take cold medicine of any kind. There is only one medicine I can take - and that's mucinex, which only makes everything really loose in a head or chest cold - doesn't stop coughing or make it hurt less, though. I'd really, really like to wake up tomorrow and not be sick. Like a 12 hour bug or something - that would be doable.

So anyway, I talked to my sister and my mom about the email that Grande sent to his dad on the 15th (posted below), and both of them think I should sit down and have a talk with him. Yeah, like that would do any-fucking-thing. When we attempt to talk to him he just shuts off completely, or yells then gets up and walks away. If we 'make' him stay sitting and try to force him to listen or talk he really does just totally shut down completely. I'm sure that's what would happen - and God, if he found out I read his email he'd freak out and never talk to me again. However, I'm his mom - I get to read his email if I want to. If he doesn't like that he could always feel free to move out when he's 18 and pay for his own internet connection.

Short Decaf is crying now. That happens when he can't suck his thumb because his nose is stuffy. It's gonna be a long next few days. Shit. I feel so bad for him. I hope I still have his cold medicine. I know I have baby advil, at least.

So - 4 more days left of regular eating before Venti and I start on the Atkins diet. I'm actually looking forward to it. There's nothing I really want in the next 4 days except for that Mongolian BBQ stuff I love so much from the mall - and I could actually have that on the diet if I didn't put noodles in it. Lucky me. That and curry chicken should make it easy to stay on the diet. :) Ya get a tad sick of eggs and tuna after a few days. Really sick of it.

I just wanna look like Angelina Jolie...is that too much to ask???

Actually, if we're being honest - I'd rather have Tea' Leoni's figure than Angelina's. With my face and her abs I think I'd be one hot chick. :) Obviously, from seeing the movie Spanglish, she must do some SERIOUS fucking yoga. This brings me to another point...

I really want to start doing yoga. I have a big collection of yoga-for-beginners videos. The problem is that I never have ANY privacy to do them - and I'm not about to do it in front of anyone other than the baby. So, what do I do? My bedroom is tiny - so I can't put a tv and vcr in there and do it. My basement is scary - so that's out. I guess the answer is that if I wanted to do yoga badly enough that I wouldn't care who saw me. However - as logical as that sounds - I'm way to fucking embarrassed about my weight to let the kids or Venti see me doing yoga. HOWEVER (again) - I REALLY fucking want to do it! Ugh. Maybe this is something I need to work out in therapy. :)

I wonder if I'm the only person in the entire history of the world who is actually looking forward to going to therapy? I mean - it gives me a little bit of hope that maybe I will actually be able to get over some of my phobias and panic attacks, and lead a more normal life. God, that sounds good. Just being able to walk for exercise without being terrified of my heart would be a life altering event! You can't even begin to imagine what that would do for my self-esteem. (Through the roof.)

So anyway - four days until the Atkins diet goes into effect. That also means I have to actually eat 3 meals a day and like 2 snacks or something - and how gross does THAT sound? Eating five times a day just is so not me. I think you have to do it though or the diet doesn't work like it's supposed to...something about eating regularly keeping your metabolism going faster. *sigh* Ick. I can't imagine waking up and eating breakfast right away - that's just gross.

Oh - and Venti doesn't think we should weigh ourselves but like once a month or something. That's just torture. He thinks, and I agree, that we will have to be on the diet for 18 months before we both hit our goal weights. So - June of 2007 I guess I'll look like I did when I was 20. That's a good thing - at least I wasn't ugly. I mean - you can undo fat, but you can't undo ugly - well, not without a lot of money, anyway.

Well - I guess this is enough blathering for one night.

Lies, Ungratefulness, and Now I Feel Ashamed

This is an email that my son sent to his father - my ex-husband - about ten days ago. I'm going to defend myself against this shit somehow. What the FUCK would make him say things like this??? I am so ashamed - it's a feeling I don't know why I have because this shit is NOT TRUE. It's 3 in the morning and I feel like going upstairs and shaking him out of bed and asking him WTF??? I hate that he thinks things like this about me. I hate that he lies to his father about the way we live, and the things we "force" him to do.

His sentence of "so has she always been like this, is this normal , i want more than anything to get my car running good and to get a job and a license so that i never have to be here!" about slayed me.

I'm so upset I almost didn't change the names ... ugh.

Dec 15
hi,

i have a ,question,

has my mom said anything to you on the phone or email about me being angry or something being wrong with her or Venti,
because they both have been so angry and crazy lately, me being mad at them is not going to do what is usually does, which is cause me
to move, i refuse to do that again, but right now and for the last 8 or 9 months i would have Rather lived in a sleeping bag in a train in Seattle than live with and put up with theare moods lately,
i have been really trying to make this new school thing work and my teacher said i am doing good and completing everything i should be even tho its supposed to be parent assisted learning and with my mom being who she is it has been more like student doing everything and getting nothing learning, i do about 5 hours of school work a day and all of my homework, i got a 100 percent on my last math homework!
even with me doing everything they want they are just making it harder for me, to make things even worse for me she had $100 she got from google, the deal with my laptop was that if i cleaned the house every day and did laundry and stuff like that (which i did every day anyway with no help from them) that she would give me the money to give to them for my laptop, it has been it has been like 6months and have not seen any money for all of my cleaning which was a lot of cleaning, so now she gets $100 from Google she promised would go to my laptop and she bought a kitten which poops everywhere and i clean it up i just don't know how i ended up doing everything and no one helping and when i say something to Venti he tells me to tell my mom and when i tell my mom she gives me this hole we give you everything and you can even do a little cleaning for us and she tells me i cant tell her how to run her house, but if i didn't clean it would be just disgusting, i mean rotting food, pizza boxes, rotting dipers, cat poo everywhere just not humane, not safe for four adults and especial for a two year old and two cats, hear is a list of what i did today and got nothing for, keep in mind that i am not refusing to do anything, i don't mind cleaning but no one helps me, ever, this is just stuff i cleaned not stuff i did for myself.

1- filled the dishwasher and washed what wouldn't fit in it by hand,

2- filled a large black trash bag full of trash,

3- vacuumed the carpet,

4- moped the hardwood and stares and tile in the bathroom and kitchen,

5- feed my moms evil cat and the other cat,

6- washed windows,

7- scrubed the stove and fridge and dishwasher and microwave and sink,

9- cleaned the bathroom,

10- washed towels,

11- watter the x-mas tree,

12 dusted,

13- cleaned the TV and stereo and speakers,

14 tried to fix a few small things (broken tree ornaments, broken basement lock and doorknob)

that's most of the big stuff,
and then Venti comes home and i get the groceries out of the trunk and put them away because Grande is on the computer and cant help do anything,
and then new cat poops all over the place while we are watching the apprentice and after they let Short trash the living room i just cleaned there like go switch the towels into the dryer, help us clean cat poop,
and they never make Grande do anything, one in a while they will make him take a shower or feed the cats but or change a diaper but that's it,
like i said I'm not thinking i shouldn't have to do anything but i do just a little bit much considering i don't get any money or anything for it,

i have been looking for a job despite what my mom tells you, she thinks it easy to find a job in a town where every store is famous and has a job waiting list!

so has she always been like this, is this normal , i want more than anything to get my car running good and to get a job and a license so that i never have to be here!

what have you been doing? having fun and partying i hope!
will you be coming out here anytime?

if you see Michelle around tell her i said hi,

bye!

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuugh. There is SO MUCH bullshit in this email I don't even know where to start or what to say??? How about cry? That seems to be the only thing that would work right now.

(insert crying sounds here)

God - what lies, what outright ungratefulness, and what the hell am I supposed to do - just let my ex believe all this shit is true when it's not???? I really, really did not need this. Oh - but I guess that's just me being "the way I am." Is that fucking NORMAL??????

Christ.

F u t u r e M e . o r g

F u t u r e M e . o r g

Everyone should do this. It's cool.

Six Degrees of Separation - The Thesis Scene That Bites Back

I never saw the movie Six Degrees of Separation before tonight. However, there was an amazingly acted scene in it - acted by Will Smith (who plays Paul) - that I did not ever want to lose the words to because it touched on something I could never imagine being able to put into words. (If you need to picture the other two people mentioned here - Ouisa is played by Stockard Channing, and Flan, her husband, is played by Donald Sutherland.) If you want to skip down to the part that interested me the most - although all of it did - I have it in bold.

---

Toward the begining of the movie, Paul summarizes his thesis:

PAUL: Well...a substitute teacher out on Long Island was dropped from his job for fighting with a student. A few weeks later, the teacher returned to the classroom, shot the student... unsuccessfully, held the class hostage and then shot himself... successfully. This fact caught my eye: last sentence, [New York] Times. A neighbor described him as a nice boy: always reading Catcher in the Rye.

The nitwit -- Chapman -- who shot John Lennon said he did it because he wanted to draw the attention of the world to The Catcher in the Rye and the reading of the book would be his defense. And young Hinckley, the whiz kid who shot Reagan and his press secretary, said if you want my defense, all you have to do is read: Catcher in the Rye. It seemed to be time to read it again.

FLAN: I haven't read it in years.

(OUISA shushes him.)

PAUL: I borrowed a copy from a young friend of mine because I wanted to see what she had underlined and I read this book to find out why this touching, beautiful, sensitive story published in July 1951 had turned into this manifesto of hate.

I started reading. It's exactly as I remembered. Everybody's a phony. Page two: "My brother's in Hollywood being a prostitute." Page three: "What a phony his father was." Page nine: "People never notice anything." Then on page 22 my hair stood up. Remember Holden Caulfield -- the definitive sensitive youth -- wearing his red hunter's cap. "A deer hunter hat? Like hell it is. I sort of closed one eye like I was taking aim at it. This is a people-shooting hat. I shoot people in this hat."

Hmmm, I said. This book is preparing people for bigger moments in their lives than I ever dreamed of. Then on page 89: "I'd rather push a guy out the window or chop his head off with an ax than sock him in the jaw...I hate fist fights...what scares me most is the other guy's face..."

I finished the book. It's a touching story, comic because the boy wants to do so much and can't do anything. Hates all phoniness and only lies to others. Wants everyone to like him, is only hateful, and he is completely self-involved. In other words, a pretty accurate picture of a male adolescent. And what alarms me about the book -- not the book so much as the aura about it -- is this: the book is primarily about paralysis. The boy can't function. And at the end, before he can run away and start a new life, it starts to rain and he folds. Now there's nothing wrong in writing about emotional and intellectual paralysis. It may indeed, thanks to Chekhov and Samuel Beckett, be the great modern theme.

The extraordinary last lines of Waiting For Godot -- "Let's go." "Yes, let's go." Stage directions: they do not move.

But the aura around this book of Salinger's -- which perhaps should be read by everyone but young men -- is this: it mirrors like a fun house mirror and amplifies like a distorted speaker one of the great tragedies of our times -- the death of the imagination.

Because what else is paralysis?

The imagination has been so debased that imagination -- being imaginative -- rather than being the lynchpin of our existence now stands as a synonym for something outside ourselves like science fiction or some new use for tangerine slices on raw pork chops -- what an imaginative summer recipe -- and Star Wars! So imaginative! And Star Trek -- so imaginative! And Lord of the Rings -- all those dwarves -- so imaginative -- The imagination has moved out of the realm of being our link, our most personal link, with our inner lives and the world outside that world -- this world we share. What is schizophrenia but a horrifying state where what's in here doesn't match up with what's out there?

Why has imagination become a synonym for style?

I believe that the imagination is the passport we create to take us into the real world. I believe the imagination is another phrase for what is most uniquely us.

Jung says the greatest sin is to be unconscious.

Our boy Holden says "What scares me most is the other guy's face -- it wouldn't be so bad if you could both be blindfolded -- most of the time the faces we face are not the other guys' but our own faces. And it's the worst kind of yellowness to be so scared of yourself you put blindfolds on rather than deal with yourself..." To face ourselves.

That's the hard thing.

The imagination.

That's God's gift to make the act of self-examination bearable.

Daisy Montage

daisy montage
Originally uploaded by spiroll.

Made this pic from this website, Montage-A-Google, which I thought was pretty cool.

Can't Wait For That First Apartment

When I was a young girl - maybe 14 or so - I had a best friend named Sheila S. We were supremely good friends, and spent many, many a day and sleep-over night dreaming about the day when we were going to move out of our parents houses and rent an apartment together. It was going to be the best EVER! We'd stay up late and nobody would bitch, watch whatever we wanted and nobody would bitch, wear what we wanted, spend time with the guys we wanted to, decorate the way we wanted to - again, it was going to be the best EVER!

Sheila and I never got that apartment. By the time we were old enough I had already had one son and was well on my way to being pregnant with my second. And married.

Now I'm 34 years old and I can not wait until my oldest son gets his first apartment. I think that's going to be the best day EVER!

I needed that dream of an apartment when I was a teenager for many reasons. I compare them with today - 20 years later....

THEN: My parents screaming at each other, throwing things, and slamming doors.
NOW: My oldest son yelling at everyone, throwing things where they don't belong, and slamming doors.

THEN: Scurrying up off the sofa and darting from the room when I heard my parent's truck pull into the driveway because I knew one of them would have something pissy to say - taking some of their own shit out on me.
NOW: Scurrying up off of the sofa and trying to look busy when I hear my oldest son's footsteps approaching because I know he's going to have something pissy and mean to say to me - taking some of his own shit out on me.

THEN: I was going to be able to revel in the silence like I had never done before.
NOW: There is no silence, and if there is it usually means someone is pissed off, which makes me feel small and as if I should retreat to my room.

THEN: I was going to decorate our apartment in the coolest, hippest way - anything that struck my fancy. Anything that made me happy.
NOW: I am not allowed to decorate as my oldest son has taken all of my decoration attempts and trashed them, changed them, or ruined the things I was going to decorate with to begin with.
THEN: I was going to have long, long quiet talks with MEN.
NOW: If either me or my husband can get a solid sentence out the other doesn't know how to react. We are always on guard - why is it that we can suddenly have a conversation??? Oh, never mind - here comes someone to bitch about something.

THEN: I was going to have a lot of cats. I love cats, and I wanted many of them.
NOW: As fucked up as it sounds, my son takes my cats from me and makes them his own. I got a kitten recently who is sick, and I don't have the emotional strength to take care of her - OR hear any more bitching about her. She has to go back to the pound. I just wanted a snuggly kitten.

THEN: I was going to have a key to my apartment. My parents didn't give me a key to our house - I had to use the spare key if it was there, and quite often had to break in.
NOW: I don't actually know if I have a key to my own house. I have a key ring, but I have never once had to lock the door because I never go anywhere. If I had a key, my oldest son probably took it and lost it.

THEN: I was going to listen to my music, which was so important to me. I couldn't listen to my music at home because my father was always blaring - at an insane volume - classical music, and I had gotten in trouble for going to sleep with my clock-radio on.
NOW: I don't have a working stereo. Well, the stereo works, but not the DVD player - and even if it did work I wouldn't be able to play "my" music because some kid would most likely be watching TV or made me scurry out of the room because of his pissiness.

THEN: I was going to have a telephone on my night stand. It took FOREVER for my parents to wire a phone to my room - and actually, they never even did that. They wired it to my sister's room. I poked a hole in the wall after she moved out and ran the cord into my room - which is how I got a phone.
NOW: If I had a phone on my night stand it wouldn't ring for me. I don't have a night stand. I also feel guilty every time I even look at my telephones because my oldest son paid for them. (Long story.)

THEN: I was going to have amazing dinnerware and glasses. My parents threw plates and glasses and broke them all. One of the first things I ever did for my mother after I moved out of the house was to buy her an expensive set of beautiful glasses to replace the mismatched cheap ones she had. I fucking HATED the Corelle dinnerware we had. It was white with little blue flowers around the rims of everything.
NOW: My children have broken all of the dishes and glasses that I love or loved. I cannot get attached to anything because I know I'll just end up losing it. My dishes and glasses are mismatched, and I hate my coffee cups.

THEN: I was going to decorate my bedroom with luxurious fabrics because I'd never had such things, but had seen them and loved them.
NOW: My oldest son has taken for his own many bedding items of mine in his lifetime. I gave up a long time ago. When he was younger he'd make tents and poke or tear holes in blankets and curtains. I had to stop fighting him on this or I would have gone insane. I have walked into his room on occasions too numerous to count, and seen a blanket or comforter that I loved being used as a fort. Poles run through it and everything.

THEN: I was going to have privacy. I had none as a kid. There were no locks on my bedroom or bathroom door. My parents entered without knocking - often times throwing the door open. Many, many times my door would fly open simply because my father would stomp up the stairs and SLAM his bedroom door shut after a fight with my mom. It's a noise I'll never forget.
NOW: I hear the echoes of this door-slamming now in the way my son stomps around and slams things. And as for my privacy? It's not totally just he alone that has taken this from me, but geez, I can't even go to the bathroom without someone asking where I am. My oldest son will come down out of his bedroom while I'm standing outside the door smoking and just STAND THERE saying nothing. If I ask "What's up?" or "How's it going?" in even a very gentle tone of voice - he'll sigh and say "Nothing." and then walk off. If I ask him what's wrong he says I wouldn't care to listen and then walk off. All I wanted to do was smoke a cigarette and watch the goddamn little birds on the bird feeder - not get more guilt rammed into my gut because I did or said the wrong thing while trying to catch a quiet moment.

THEN: My apartment was going to be serene. A haven. A place that would be the polar opposite of what I had growing up.
NOW: My home is like an insane asylum. It is exactly the same as it was when I was growing up except the players have changed. My son has replaced BOTH my mother and father - something I never thought possible. My father was an manic alcoholic with serious self-esteem issues, and a sex addiction. I love him, and may he rest in peace, but I simply couldn't take the perverted sense of humor any more when I was a kid. My son is not an alcoholic, pervert, nor is he addicted to sex that I know of - however, he is manic depressive as far as I can tell - just like my father and mother were. A lot more like my father was.

I was planning on escaping and making a new life. I didn't think having children would affect that so greatly. I thought I could make them BE different. I succeeded with at least one of them - but the oldest? I just don't know what to do but say that I really think that when he moves out and gets his own place that I'll have a lot - a whole lot - less anxiety and fear.

Maybe I'll stop jumping up and scurrying out of his way just to avoid the guilt, frustration, fear, and sometimes-resentment.

Maybe I'll be able to live those "first apartment dreams" finally. Wouldn't THAT be THE best day EVER

*sigh*

Heh

Elsewhere, scientists reported that mice who were injected with human brain cells stopped running on a wheel and sat down to watch the wheel instead.

-borrowitz report
12/14/05

Tuesday, Tuesday

I did absolutely nothing of interest at all today.

I did have a fight with Grande Decaf, though. He is oh-so-superior to everyone in this house - or so he thinks. HRH thinks that we are a few miles beneath him. Venti thinks that when Grande goes out into the "real world" he's not going to be testing the waters, he'll be confronted by a huge tidal wave. I think so, too, and I'm trying to avoid that from happening - but man, has that kid got a fucking attitude! And I don't know WTF to do about it.

Tall Decaf is now officially a published model. His picture was used in an ad campaign for a small college in Arizona, and the person in charge sent me a copy of the ad. It was awesome. Tall is officially walking a foot off the ground at this point. He was so happy, and that makes me so happy. What's strange is that Tall is only 14 years old, and was portrayed in the ad as a high school senior. He is way, way, way too big for his age. His nickname here on the blog is Tall Decaf because that's where he fits into the family - he's the middle child, but it's also appropriate to describe him physically. He's surpassing his older brother, Grande, in height and Grande is 2 1/2 years older than him. I am so curious to know what he'll look like when he's all growed up. :)
So, I've been working really hard on setting up www.anxietyportal.com I think it's coming along nicely. I've applied for Google Adsense - I'm sure they'll grant me admission. Once I get that I just need to code it into the header and I can "go live" with it. I hope to God google picks it up and ranks it highly. Now - if I can just find a way to get people to contribute!

I also started a yahoo group for people with panic disorder local to the Puget Sound area. So far two people have emailed me about it, and one of them is working on her MA in counseling. She says that she has her panic attacks under control. God, I envy her. Anyway, it would be nice if I could find some local friends through this venture. I used Craigslist to post the ad about it and had 2 responses in an hour...very cool.

Short Decaf is hiding little pretzels in Tall's jacket. I wonder what he'll say about that tomorrow morning. He adores his baby brother so he'll probably laugh about it.

I can't believe it's ONLY Tuesday. It's definitely feeling like it should be closer to the weekend. Thursday - yeah, it should be Thursday. This week is going painfully slow.

Tomorrow we get another experience of Grande going to his 1-hour appointment at the school to check in with his home-schooling counselor. Last week he managed to get on the right bus, but coming home was a different story in that he got on the wrong bus (which still passes REALLY close to our house) and didn't pull the cable, so he ended up at a mall 8 miles from here. He waited outside for an hour for the return ride - why he didn't go in the mall is beyond me. I guess he witnessed an old lady pull the cable on the way home, and he got off at that stop - second closest to our house - so maybe he'll find the nerve to pull the damn thing tomorrow. Shit, I hope there are some dollar bills laying around for him to use for bus fare.

Well, nothing else of interest to report...as I said, it was a slow day.

Quote I Ddn't Want To Lose

TWoP Forums -> 7-9: "The Wedding" 2005.12.11: "Sometimes people who owe others a great deal do all they can to ruin them. It's a way of erasing a debt and asserting one's independence. It's really asshole-ish, but it's not that rare."

(link has no relevance to why I wanted to keep the quote.)

Fat and Tired

I think my bed is trying to kill me. Both Venti and I feel like we've cracked a rib, and perhaps we actually have. I don't understand this, though, because the bed is actually not old, and I think pretty expensive. It's extremely comfortable and supportive, so what the hell is this cracked rib feeling? Of course - I am unable to NOT obsess about this - what, with being a hypochondriac and all.

Second thing I'm freaking TF out about is this weight gain. I've gained ten pounds since we've moved to Seattle. WTF is THAT all about? And it's not a comfortable ten pounds, either. It's one of those skin-stretching, belly feels like it's got a bowling ball in it, totally uncomfortable ten pounds. I don't know what else to do other than obsess about it. I think it must be my thyroid gland malfunctioning. Thyroid doesn't have very many syllables, I'll grant you that, but it still sounds kind of scary.

I don't know how to exercise with my agoraphobia and heart phobia. I guess I'll get to talk to a psychologist about this soon.

I also get to go to the dentist this weekend - right smack dab in the middle of a Saturday when I should be out shopping (because we have not yet done any Christmas shopping at all!) I also panic in dentist's chairs. I'll have to be sure to take extra xanax instead of thinking I can just brave it out. I always get a kick out of telling a dentist that I'm sedated because they scare the shit out of me. Ever reaction is unique...but fun.

Goddamn it. I better weigh less tomorrow morning when I step on the scale than I did this morning. I simply will NOT put up with being this fucking fat.

I'm not really tired. I don't know why I put that in the title of the post. I'm actually quite wide awake for it being 2:30 in the morning. I guess it doesn't hurt that I had a 3 hour nap today. I think naps are a thing of beauty.

Oh - here's a picture I took. I was going to take more pictures, but my camera's battery died right about after I took this pic. I think it reminds me of the Arches National Park - the rock formation that's called something like the Three Gossips or something like that.

Hmm. I think if you click on it that it will look better than it does in this small version. I should have cropped it, too. Yeah well.

I haven't heard from my mother lately. I wonder if she's pissed at me for not sending a thank you note for the glasses she bought me from Pier 1. I wonder if she'd be pissed if she knew that all the glasses she sent me are breaking VERY easily. I wonder if they're a different batch than the ones I got at the Pier 1 here. Anyway, I'm sure she'll cheer up as soon as she gets the 2 bottles of wine and box of chocolates I got her for Christmas. Now...just have to get them packaged and in the mail.

Oh, man - I had the greatest Mongolian BBQ yesterday. Venti and I ventured out with only Short Decaf and Grande Decaf had pissed us off so badly that we just wanted to be gone from the house for a while, and figured they could find their own dinner anyway. We braved going into the mall to the food court - which you would think would suck - but I tell you, that dude who runs the Mongolian grill there is just awesome. I can't understand very much of what he says - but I ended up getting curry sauce, peppers, and soy sauce on mine. Lots of peppers. He was shocked that I wanted it so spicy, but obliged. Man, it was so fucking good. And it wasn't unhealthy, either - I would think the only unhealthy thing about it would have been the noodles (not a lot of them) and the sodium in the soy sauce. (So that's NOT why I'm suddenly fat.)

I wish I could adopt the guy. He probably doesn't wish that.

Speaking of adopting people, Venti saw a homeless lady with a 2-year-old little girl. If he sees her again he's going to work up the nerve to talk to her. I think she should come and live with us. We have the room, after all. I'd just love, love, love to help someone out like that. I just wish that we knew we were going to be in this house a little longer, or that we would - for sure - be able to find as big of a house to rent next July when it's time for us to get out of here. If that stuff was in the bag, I think I'd actively seek out someone who could use a break in life and give them the spare space in the house. Man, homeless with a 2-year-old...I can't even imagine. That's so sad. :(

(God, I am SO SICK of Blue's Clues.)

I just realized tonight that the chick that plays a Real Estate agent in the T-Mobile 1500 minutes a month commercial was the same actress in Kirstie Alley's Fat Actress show. She was great in that. I loved her hair.

(Yes, these are random thoughts.)

So, I've got my television nights all planned out for the week.

Sunday: (past already): West Wing - it rocked.
Monday: (tonight-past already): The Medium. Pretty damn good episode.
Tuesday: Not a goddamn thing because The Office isn't on. WTF? My name is Earl is on, but I don't like that a whole lot (although I used to have a serious crush on Jason Lee)
Wednesday: Martha Stewart's Apprentice
Thursday: Season Finale of Donald's Apprentice - of course! 2 Hour Finale, Bay-bay! (Also, will be watching Joey.)
Friday: Yeah....I don't watch Friday night TV. Or Saturday night, to be honest. Those are "I'm not home right now..." or movie nights.

I made something in response to that gay-assed Cookie Exchange party. You can read it here if you're interested. It really is funnier if you read the original version first. God, I just really don't like people like that.

Totally Insane: Christmas Cookie Exchange - Invitation

Christmas Cookie Exchange - Invitation

Oh. My. God.

This person, and anyone who ever attended her cookie party NEEDS serious therapy - or surgery to remove the stick out of their ass! See - this is the very reason I did NOT want to go to the cookie party with SIL Decaf. No fucking way.

This damn page should be circulated on the web as a hideous stupid joke. Featured on snopes.com as a "This isn't a real thing, right?"

Nasty.

White Trash Mom

White Trash Mom

ColorQuiz.com

Decaf took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test!

"Wants interesting and exciting things to happen. A..."

Click here to read the rest of the results.

A Quote I Didn't Want to Lose

Prozac On Paws: The Tale Of Two Spayed Females: "I remember being really upset when Jeffrey Dahmer’s father stuck by him duringhis trial and incarceration while my family had cut me off altogether for being bitter, unforgiving, greedy and wanting a free ride, but, damn it, I had not killed or eaten even one person."

NO SHIT!!! No shit.

Frappr is cool.

http://www.frappr.com/decaf

I'm hoping that this turns into a map of where people who visit my panic website are from, and a short blurb from them, and not some horrible idea. I'd hate to have to redo the html.