eh

i'm sure you've all been dying to know where i've been, why i'm not blogging, making snarky comments or pithy observations.

the answer is: i don't know.  i'm a bit overwhelmed recently.  i have had ongoing issues with a relative that revolve around my mother's death that make me cry just about every day.  it's very hard for me to believe i'm letting someone have this kind of control over me, but i feel helpless against it.

i am still trying to pack up mom's stuff and tie up those loose ends.  this is hard, since i hate going into her bedroom because it still smells like her.

i have treated myself by booking a weekend to new york to see my family.  it's revbobdad's birthday, and i had tons of points racked up, so it cost me $5 for a round trip ticket from orlando to jfk.  awesome husband will stay home and wrangle the cats.

and we've decided to take a cruise in march.  not telling you when, since this is a public blog and i don't want you all coming over and partying while we're gone.  but it will be nice to get away from this house and not have to do anything but drink in the sun for a few days.

other than that, just trying to figure out how to handle this relative, pack up this house, and get the fuck out of central florida.  i cannot wait to move back to new york and be surrounded by family and friends who love me and care about me.

not that you guys don't do that.  and not that the few friends i have in florida don't.  but really, none of them compare to my brother.  i know, it sounds sappy and lame.  but he's my bestie and i miss him dearly.

now i have to work in a few minutes, so i'm going to tarzipan up and get to it.  hope to have an actual post up within the next couple of days.  thanks for sticking it out with me.

there comes a time when you lose faith in what you have inside

now, don't get all 'zomg steph gas, are you okay??!?  what's with the cryptic blog title??' because it's a line from a song i'm listening to right now and kind of feels right, you know?  i'm very big on stream of consciousness blogging. 

i'll get a little deep on you though: doesn't everyone lose faith in what they have inside at some point?  faith is a belief that is not based on fact.  if you've studied christianity and remember your catechism at all, you'll know that faith is trust in the promises of god.  promises that have no tangible evidence.  you may have faith in another person; a belief that they will do or accomplish something - without a basis of proof.

so what is having faith in what you have inside?  is it having faith in yourself - is it believing that you can accomplish things without any factual evidence that you can?  or is it faith in what you believe, a faith that you have the right morals and ideals?  or could it be actually faith in what you are, who you are - faith in all the things you have inside that add up to WHO YOU ARE.  let's break it down: first example would be me having faith that i can finish college, when all evidence from the past actually points to the exact opposite outcome.  second example would be my belief that my morals and ideals - the lifestyle or doctrine that i follow - is right for me.  third example would be me having faith that i can be who i am, with all my faults and flaws.

true, true, false.

there comes a time when you lose faith in what you have inside, to me, means there comes a time when you lose faith in what you are.  not hands and eyes and heart and brain, but emotions and love and anger and batshit craziness.  there comes a time when you wonder things like am i able to love, be loved?  why can't i be normal?  how can i control this rage inside me?  why do i always feel sad - WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

we have all felt that at some point, i know.  the 'what's wrong with me' and 'why can't i be right or normal'.  whether it was a point of low self-esteem in junior high or a daily struggle through adulthood, that thought is us losing faith in what we have inside.  it's more than just not having faith in yourself and that you can accomplish things, it's more than having faith in a higher power or system or whatever that gives you your morals and ideals.  it's about not having faith in the things that make you you.  it's thinking that no one else can love you because NO ONE HAS BEFORE - that's not faith in another person to accept you, it's different.  it's believing that there is something intrinsically wrong with you and thinking that no one can love you and it's your fault.

i have faith in awesome husband that he loves me, and will protect me, care for me, and be with me for as long as our love shall last.  but i need to rediscover that faith in what i have inside that is lovable.  he doesn't love me because i have dd cups or a buddha belly, or because of my piercings or tattoos.  he doesn't take care of me because he has to, or because we both like family guy and mel brooks movies.  awesome husband loves me because of what i have inside.

and many days, i lose faith in what i have inside.  i can't understand why awesome husband loves me, why semi true torystellar keeps talking to me, why my best friend from high school is still here for me after all these fucking years. 

it's because they have faith that i will rediscover what i have inside.  they don't care that i don't believe it some days because they KNOW IT IS TRUE.

and i'm thankful and blessed and lucky as hell to have these people in my life.  people who know what i have inside is true and good, regardless of the people who have told me different or who didn't have faith in me or whose sole intention was to hurt me and break my faith down.  people who don't verbally remind me what i have inside, but show me time and time again why i should have faith in what i have inside.

there comes a time when you lose faith in what you have inside.  but if you are lucky, there are a few people around you who know what you have inside.  and they are the ones who help rekindle that flame, who help you to remember what you have inside.

valentine's day?

i'm totes the worst blogger ever.  i've been slacking off in the blogging department, but i'm not sure why.  i'ma try to get right back up on this horse and blog more often.  sorry guys.

now.  it's valentine's day.  i find this to be a ridiculous excuse to spend money on ridiculous, unnecessary items for people we 'love'.  i don't need shit to show awesome husband that i love him.  and he doesn't need to do much more than say it a few times a week.  buying me shit doesn't mean you love me.  LETTING me spend your money on shit i want helps.  but that occurs on a regular basis, not just on v-day.

once you've been together for a while (definition varies depending on your particular relationship) i don't think you care so much about gifts on v-day.  i think awesome husband and i exchanged a few gifts during our courting days, but i'm sure some years valentine's day was just an excuse to rent a motel room and have extra sex or call our dealer and have extra drugs.  sorry, but it's true.

the last time i got a valentine's day gift from awesome husband was 2005.  it was our first v-day after our wedding (awww).  he got me a cd.  yes, a cd.

it was a cd i had been thinking about buying for some time, but just hadn't gotten around to buying yet.  he thoughtfully stopped at the mall after work to pick it up for me and presented it to me in it's wrapping of a plastic bag.

it was bloodhound gang's 'hefty fine'.  totes not safe for work.

i don't think there is a point to valentine's day, except to pad the pockets of hallmark and russel stovers and shit like that.

of course, it's a great excuse to eat out an extra time this week.  double entendre intended.  awesome husband and i went for a late lunch at raglan road yesterday and got down (hahaha, see what i'm doing here?) on some bangers and booze - guinness infused pork sausage and sauteed onions served with mashed potatoes and beef stew.  yum.  then we came home, annoyed the cats, had a couple of drinks, watched the grammys, and went to bed.  today, in honor of valentine's day, we're doing nothing special.

that's right.  a regular ol' monday.  because v-day is stupid.  i love awesome husband every day.  i don't need a random day a month before my birthday to remind me of that.

remember that time we were kidnapped by gypsies? or wanna-be porn directors?

so semitrue torystellar, affectionately known by some of us as tory, tagged me in some clusterfuck about questions and choosing blog topics or something.  you can read it right about here.

sorry.  it's monday. 

now, i've not been kidnapped by gypsies.  and i've not been anyplace with tory where we'd have the chance of being kidnapped by gypsies.  BUT i figure one of two things would happen if we were kidnapped by gypsies:

1.  we would turn the tables and make them our sex slaves.  they'd have to bring us vodka and tequila, cheesey poofs and fondue.  there may be chocolate drizzled on particulars of some people.  once we had them wrapped around our fingers (so to speak) we'd have to start a little business.  we're both business-minded women with customer service experience, so that gypsy caravan would essentially be turned into a traveling brothel where we would be the awesome madams who don't pay for sex with the men (or women, please).

2.  they would drop us off at the next major city or port on the caravan's travels because we'd talk their fucking ears off.  seriously.  tory and i are opinionated, well-spoken, intelligent women who would probably be able to convince them that we were cursed or something ridiculous like that.  or that by kidnapping us the karmic retribution would be horrifying.  or we'd just start going on about customer service and CSATs and stupid fucking agents who can't do their damn jobs and socialism and the liberal agenda and how far right christian conservatives are trying to take over the country and how cats are better than people and why you should get a mac and lipsticks we've known and loved.

i know. 

so we'd just talk and talk and talk and talk and they'd eventually get annoyed and toss us out of their covered wagon the next time they stop to feed the horses or whatever the fuck would be happening.




anyway.  in reality my mother always told me that no one who kidnapped me would want to keep me because i'd never shut up.  she ended up being partially right.  the closest i ever came to being kidnapped by gypsies was when i lived in a crack house in smithtown, new york.

seriously.  i was on welfare living in a one-bedroom basement apartment with FIVE other women, one of whom smoked crack in our bathroom.

and i'd take the bus to visit with awesome husband every day.  i wasn't working, and i got room and board from social services, so i only got $19.50 every other week for necessities like toiletries and shit.  and a handful of bus tokens, but usually only enough to get you to and from your appointments with social services.  so any ride was welcome.

or so i thought.

the bus stop was on a major road at a fairly large intersection, right in front of a mobil gas station.  a couple of times i had been propositioned standing there, waiting for a bus, in like regular clothes - jeans and a tee or hoodie, carrying my bag.  i know that prostitutes flaunt their wares on this main road, but hello - it was the MIDDLE of the day, in the MIDDLE of the week, and i was standing DIRECTLY UNDER a bus stop.  so one day a middle aged guy drives up in a minivan.  tan with that fake wood paneling on the sides - screams 'i'm a dad'.  he's wearing a button down and a tie, glasses, combed hair.  the picture of dad on his way to work or some shit.

so he pulls up to the bus stop and asks if i need a ride.  i'm like, well actually, yes i'm going to huntington, it's a straight shot down this main road like 30 minutes but it takes me three buses and almost two hours regularly.  i'm excited because i'll get to the mall early and can go read in the bookstore while waiting for awesome husband.  he says he can take me to the mall, it's not too far out of his way.  i hop in his minivan and away we go.

i don't remember much of the conversation because i was a bit nervous.  the car was neat, too neat almost.  i didn't give my name and we chatted a bit about dumb shit.  he asked how old i was and i said 19.  he asked if i liked to drink or party.  that set my first alarm bell off.  i told him i didn't drink or use drugs (blatant lie).  he then told me he had a spot he liked to go to eat lunch, we could go there to talk for a while.

uh oh.  now the alarm bells in my head are going off like woah.  my heart started pounding a bit faster.  i wasn't one of those new york women who carry mace or a taser or anything like that.  i knew how to use my keys or thumbs to gouge out eyes, though, and i had a thorough knowledge of how to use a direct hit to the groin for maximum pain.  where does he 'like to go to eat his lunch' in the middle of winter?  one of the parking lots at sunken meadow park.

any long islander will know, during the winter this is generally a desolate place.  i knew it.  we were going to a large empty parking lot, in the middle of a big state park - no houses, no pay phones (this was before everyone had a cell), no nothing.  i was in trouble. 

no knife.  no mace.  no weapon aside from a couple of keys.

but i did have my mouth and a big ass brain full of crazy shit.

so we park, he unbuckles his seat belt and turns his body towards me.  he starts talking about his friend, who makes movies.

SO CLICHED.

but his friend makes these movies, would i be interested in starring in one?  he gets a bit graphic about what the movies entail.  so i decide to get creative. 

wide-eyed steph gas:  oh, no, i could never do something like that.

creepy van driving guy:  really? why not?

wide-eyed steph gas:  god wouldn't like it.

creepy van driving guy:  huh?

wide-eyed steph gas:  well, i'm a virgin.  i've never even kissed a boy.  i'm totally dedicated to god and my faith.

creepy van driving guy:  glaring at me.

wide-eyed steph gas:  yes, i know i'm for sure saving myself until marriage, but i'm still thinking about becoming a nun.  you see, the problem is that i was raised lutheran.  we don't have like monasteries and nuns and saints.  but my best friend, she's catholic, and i've been to high mass and it's so pretty.  and i went to a lutheran school and lutherans are just too lenient.  like, girls would kiss boys in the hallways! at school!  and i was talking to someone i met in that catholic church, and they don't allow anything like that.  and i started reading at the library about catholicism and nuns and stuff, and i really like the idea of being married to god.

creepy van driving guy:  very uncomfortable shifty eyes, facing forward and starting the minivan.

wide-eyed steph gas:  yeah, i figure i either want to be married to god, or i want to be a housewife.  i'll find a good catholic man to marry me and bear him children.  because that's the only thing you should ever have sex for, is to procreate.  so, like, i want to have my first two babies within a year of each other, but not until i'm at least 23 or 24.  so i have to convert to catholicism and decide if i'm going to be a nun or not really soon.  i was actually hoping to go to the catholic church in huntington this weekend to talk to a priest about it.

creepy van driving guy:  well, okay.  you know what, this has been great - but it's a lot later than i thought.  i can't drive you all the way to huntington.  i'll drop you off in commack at the macy's.

wide-eyed steph gas:  oh, thank you.  that's two less buses i'll have to take, and it saves me a lot of time.  you're a good man.

now, i have to tell you.  when i was 19, i had been having sex for 3 years, two of them with awesome husband, and i had not considered myself lutheran for well over a year.

but the christian god saved my life that day with all the bullshit that humans decided catholicism included.

so, i guess i at least owe him that.




yes, i know this is not a picture of god.  shutthefuckup about it.



tequila and critical thinking don't mix

i've probably depressed THE FUCK out of all of you with my last round of posts about mom dying.  and i know it isn't winning me any new followers, that's for sure.  so i've decided to continue 'a story' in it's own like page or whatever.  so there will be a linky thing up at the top of my blog forthcoming.  when i do it.

I'LL DO IT.  GAH.

so i had a shitty day.  so our lifestyle change went out the window tonight and awesome husband and i went to applebee's.  i had margaritas.  they were yummy.  then i came home and attempted to do my critical thinking homework.

first:  i have to take a fucking CLASS on critical thinking??  second:  i'm full on BUZZED?  and this is not conducive to thinking critically.

and then.  AND THEN.  i had to finish drafting an email that i'm not allowed to send yet but all hell may break loose as soon as i do send it.  which kind of bums me out, but whatevs.  i gotta do what i gotta do.

and today I GOTTA wear bright pink lipstick to work.  which is in my office.  located at the back of my house.  done on the same imac i'm blogging on right now... :/

i'm hawt.  deal with it.

 

 

of course, i couldn't take just one.  so, without further ado, presenting STEPH GAS'S LIFE WITH PHOTO BOOTH!

earlier today while 'working'

yesterday while 'working' with <jake

last week 'working' with sammy baby

last week when i discovered how to use photo booth.  yay!

this is my life.   you know you want it.  ALSO: i usually don't post pics of when my hair looks like absolute SHITE but there you go.  the last two are before i did my hair again, so my roots are superlong and hysterical and my hair is all faded.

ALSO ALSO.  we did name that kitten - <jake.  that's right, 'less than' jake.  get it?  GET IT??!?!

ALSO ALSO ALSO.  did i tell you all that samantha was injured jumping off my shoulder?  she caught herself on the sofa and like tore or stretched ligaments/tendons around her knee so her babeh kitteh kneecap does what it wants.  so far the prognosis is 'eh'.  samantha may or may not need surgery :( :( :(

ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO!!  that's really it.  just wanted to say 'also' again. 

it's the bailey's, i'm sure.  DON'T JUDGE ME.  if i'm going to break my stupid fucking diet lifestyle change, i'm DOING it.