why do twizzlers have an expiration date?

i really do try to be positive.  posi-this, posi-that.  i try to focus on the positive and practice gratitude and shit like that.  i do.

but it's usually pretty hard.  i mean, i have pills.  they do help.  i've never felt more 'normal' than this past year.  the pristiq really seems to have made a difference.

what the fuck does that say about me?  the most 'normal' year of my life includes my mother dying and moving back to new york?  really?

so i accepted a new position with another client with arise.  it's a client i used to work with, last year in fact, and they asked me to come back in a facilitator capacity.  which is really awesome - i really believe in this client's product and know i will be an integral part of the team.  it's another 20+ hours a week.  on top of the 20+ for my current client.  on top of school full-time.  and if any of you really think that online school is not 'full-time' i challenge you to my schedule.  i only take two classes at a time, but they're only nine weeks long.  i easily put 20 hours a week into my classwork, if not more.  figure i have 16ish hours a day that i'm awake.  80 hours a week (fuck you, the weekends are mine) and 60 are scheduled for school/work.  4 hours a day for showering, taking care of the house, taking care of myself, and spending time with awesome husband. 

that is not enough.  i'm fucking batshit crazy and i need time for me.  there have been times when i can't take a damn shower without awesome husband forcing me to.  i need time to sit on the couch and stare at a cat.  or watch 'twilight' without awesome husband.  or read.  gods help me, reading.  i severely miss reading for fun.  i haven't read anything that's not related to work or training for my new position or for my science class (NUTRITION.  FUCKING NUTRITION). 

or reading about algebra.  fucking learning about solving number problems with words is kind of annoying.  fucking algebra.

whatever.

and i really want a vacation.  i really want time for me.  i don't care if it's a cruise or boston for a few days or canada or whatever.  i need to not be 'here'. 

so i'm taking a couple of nights off from work.  and i found twizzlers on sale at pathmark so i bought them.  and it *says* they expire 10/2011.  and they taste... strange.  the consistency seems off too.  guess i found out why they were on sale.


practical matters: we survived hurricane irene with minimal damage.  we have a HUGE tree in our front yard and we lost a few big branches off it.  one hit our gutter and dented it, but the gutter's still attached to the house.  no flooding either.  we did evacuate to my in-law's house which is like in the middle of long island right near the highest point on long island.  so we figured we'd be safe from flooding.

we mostly were - the house is old so there was a bit of water in the basement because it rained FOREVER.  but they lost power early sunday morning.

and still don't have power.  probably until MONDAY.  a whole week without power.

we got power back midday sunday.  we live near the water - a canal two blocks north of us, a canal a block and a half west, a canal a couple of blocks east, and the bay sevenish blocks south.  so we're SURROUNDED by water.  and we didn't get flooding.  it stopped about a block and a half south of us - it was really close.  but we made out on this one.  the only casualty: my fucking sanity.  when we were breaking down the huge branches in the front yard, a goddamned SWARM of mosquitoes attacked me and my arms are COVERED with bites.  i have them on my back and hands too.  fuck.

we have a vet appointment this saturday with ALL FOUR CATS.  exciting times.  i can't wait to see how much cat hair we end up with in the car.  and then awesome husband has the third sitting for his tattoo.  once he's done, i get to start work on my next tattoo! yay!

so for now, some soul-searchingish stuff going on re: work/school/me balance.  i figure i can take it slow for a couple of weeks and see what happens.  i get insurance like tomorrow so i can start looking for a therapist in addition to my psychiatrist/drug dealer.  therapy is delicious.  i'll enjoy that.

finally, new blogger is kind of killing me.  i guess i'll get used to it, but right now it's driving my ridiculously nuts.

list of needs/wants

• i need to find a way to back up my photos on my time capsule as actual images i can access from any computer on the network, not just as fucking disk images.
• i need the guy from the gas company to finish what he is doing so i can not worry about having to jump up and let him back in the house.
• i need the cats to stopfuckingfighting and grow up. and i'm speaking about the 16 year old as well.
• i want to feel like my pills are working better than they are.
• i want to not have to take tarzipan today.
• i want the facilitators from my last two classes to post my damn grades because i'm about to blow my 4.0 GPA and i'm more upset than i should be about it.  because no one really cares except for me.
• i need this fucking hurricane to NOT hit long island's south shore like a windy ton of fucking bricks because we live between two canals and like five blocks north of the water.  so we are SURROUNDED by water.  
• i need more diet coke. i'm supposed to be drinking water like a good little girl, but fuck that.  
• i want to not have to work for a day and do nothing but sit around and read, maybe watch some cartoons, and snuggle on the couch with cats.
• sometimes, just sometimes, i want to not care so much.

part five

wednesday was the day before thanksgiving.  i got to the hospital and mom was sleeping.  like, really sleeping.  i cornered a nurse and asked what was going on.  she told me mom had been in some pain the night before and they gave her morphine.

huh. that was a first.  stage IV lung cancer, in the brain and wherever the fuck else, and just NOW she was in pain.  okay, well when did she get it?  EIGHT hours ago?  shouldn't she be up by now?

the nurse looked at me.  like, really kind of looked at me, and said that the morphine would have worn off for most people, but you know, depending on their tolerance.

oh, haha, i said, mom can't even drink a second rum and coke.  so she's probably just, like, REALLY out of it from the morphine, right?

right?

the nurse smiled at me and walked away.  not a laughy smile either, kind of sad.

okay, we can deal with this.  i booked a plane ticket for awesome husband to come up because we knew it would be the last thanksgiving we'd have together as a family.  i was hoping mom would wake up and be coherent enough that we could convince the doctors to let us take her out for the day.

i don't have any real memories of this day.  i'm sure some aunts and uncles and cousins came to visit.  i know my dad was there at some point.  doctors and nurses and bedpans and needles and whatnot.  i don't have any real memories of this day because NOTHING HAPPENED.  mom slept.  all day.  she would kind of wake up and grunt if i poked at her enough, but that was it.

i asked the nurse how much morphine they had given her.

not that much, was the answer i received.

not enough to keep her out for twelve plus hours.  not so much that she should be this unresponsive.  not that much.

well, you know.  she's sick.  and tired.  we'll just let her sleep. 

i would say 'i love you mom'.  and she'd smile a bit, not opening her eyes, and say 'you too'.  i said 'i love you mom' more times in that week than i think i have my entire life.  i needed her to know it.  i didn't know how to else to tell her without upsetting us all.  'i love you mom' never meant as much as it did that week in ICU, or the following week in hospice. 

********************

thursday morning i picked up awesome husband from the airport.  my dad, brother, awesome husband and i trekked to the hospital.  mom was still asleep for all intents and purposes.  there was another uneaten tray of breakfast next to her bed, unsipped water.  did she get more morphine?

no, the nurses told me.  she'd just been asleep.

i approached one of the nurses, pressing for information.  i live in florida, i have a house and cats that need attention.  when are they going to start radiation?  when will she leave the hospital?  what's going on?

thanksgiving morning i was told 'i wouldn't plan on going back to florida' by mom's nurse.

when i heard that, i lost it.  DAYS???? that means days. we have days?? just days?  what happened to another family trip?  even a weekend getaway?  mom seeing the cats again?  one last holiday season with her? radiation therapy to keep the swelling down and make her comfortable, her vision coming back until the end?? what happened to all that? where did it go?

i had to leave the hospital and go to the house my mother grew up in, where her brother and sister and their families were gathered, and ask to speak to them all in one room.  i had to tell them that they told me not to go back to florida and that there was nothing we could do.  i was 30 years old, my brother 26, and we had to tell everyone that chemo wasn't even an option, radiation wouldn't help, it would just make her sicker.  that there was no operation or medication or anything that would change the fact that we had days.  so few days that i shouldn't bother booking a ticket home.

they wanted us to stay there, and i understood.  but there was other family there, the other side you know? my mom's brother's wife's family.  not that i don't know them and whatever, but it was awkward - hi, we're all here waiting for my mom to die, but you all go ahead with thanksgiving.  i couldn't do it.  i wanted to go to my dad's brother's house.  the small side of the family: 10 of us all together, including significant others.  the house i could drink at without feeling funny or ashamed.  the house i could cry and curse and hug at without non-family looking in (not NON family, but you know - not immediate family).

we went to my aunt and uncle's house. it was somber, to be sure, but in a thoroughly 'our family' way.  we mourned, of course, but we laughed.  we remembered mom, we talked about her, told stories about her.  it was good, it was sad - but it was good.

until i finally got in touch with that one hold out family member.  thanksgiving was already turning out to be a shitty holiday, but it was about to get a whole lot worse.  thank gods i was with the part of the family i love drinking around.  we were all going to need it.

inspired

by aunt motherfucking becky who wrote a post about tattoos and it made me realize i haven't shown my newest addition off yet.

new tattoo.  its actually a cover-up.

and of course awesome husband had to get in on the action.  no really, we've been planning a sleeve for him for some time and it's finally started.

this is the back of his arm.  it's rocks.

this is the inside of his arm.

the entire thing will have a pirate theme.  you'll see.  this is the eay after his first sitting, his second sitting is this saturday and we're very excited.

ALSO.

samantha.  why not?

NSFW. i don't know how else to say it. seriously. NSFW. this is not pr0n.

yeah.  that's right.  it's borderline porn.

but with fake bewbz.  really fake.

let me start at the beginning....


my wife (a bestie from high school) loves building and sculpting and artsy things.  and ended up with a job at a company that makes fake cadavers.

yes.  you read that right.

the company makes, like, fake bodies and torsos and shit like that for medical students to learn on.  she's sculpted teensy veins for people to practice, like, veiny shit on.  and she's assembled a body on top of a skeleton by attaching muscles in an anatomically correct way.

seriously.  what a job, right?

anyway, so for reasons undisclosed to me, they were casting bewbz.  like, i don't know if someone requested them or what, but they could hide things in the breast to have people search for them.

no, not like matchbox cars and toys.  like, fake tumors and shit.  get it?  great idea, right?

so they cast some bewbz of the workers.  they had small and medium bewbz, but needed large bewbz.

you see where this is going now, right?  now, if you're offended by pictures of big girls partially clothed and fake breasts (seriously, i promish- nothing is real here) don't scroll down.




......




......




seriously, you better be okay with this.  i'm either about to lose all of my followers or get attacked by pr0n bots.


and if you are related to me or otherwise queasy about seeing a lifelike replica of my actual breast (or my beautiful gut hanging over my jeans) then turn back now!


for the rest of you...  enjoy our feature presentation 'the making of the BEWBZ'

wife's other better half and wife mixing stuff

'instamold - for all your BEWBZ casting needs'

using an ancient flour sifter to sift the powdery crap.  my beaver was cast in the sink as well.  yes, an actual toy beaver.  sickos.

being felt up by wife and wife's other better half.  in the name of science, or something.

more fondling.  the stuff set faster than i think any of us expected.

wife's other better half copping an extra feel.  can you blame him?

the first cast! we never used that bowl again.

it was strange looking at it.  i didn't think my tatas were that cavernous.

so we did that casting in late april.  then went out to dinner.  and probably drank or something.  weeks go by, they turn into months... it turns out it's a lot harder to make bewbz than any of us thought.

but the process was fun.  it was nice to get surprise emails or picture messages on my phone with my boob in some state of being created.

april 25th - the naming of the bewbz - 'titzilla' is born!

may 3rd - the mold being created

may 3rd - the mold.  i also have a photo of my wife wearing it as a hat.... :/

july 7th, what i believe to be the first working prototype.

'working prototype' meaning 'being able to be fondled' of course.

i also have a RIDICULOUS video of my wife slapping my bewbz around.  not my real bewbz... we never tape stuff like that.  i mean titzilla.  it's pretty hysterical. *goes to watch it and laugh for a few minutes*

okay.  so a couple of weeks ago i received photos from my wife on the final bewbz, TITZILLA!!!

this is my bewbz.  it is my right bewbz.  i went with righty because she's a bit more hefty.

the shape is pretty much right on.  big bewbz sag and pull down a bit.  sorry fellas, but it's true.

i must be honest, my nipple area is not quite that pink.  but it inspired me to start rouging my nipples.

yeah, rouging nipples.  look it up, it was done.  nipples used to be considered, like, fashionable.  not anymore, sadly.

and now, for the coup de grace.  thank you for bearing with me and my BEWBZ on this exciting journey.  if you have been a long-time reader (yeah, like a few months) you may remember i got the "nice rack" award a while back.  and that semi true torystellar called me out, saying my BEWBZ pictures were not worthy.

well, here you go torystellar.  how are these??

no caption necessary, i think.

epic, just epic. thanks, wife and her company that shall remain nameless at the bequest of the owner.

you might wonder why i did it?


who gets to do something like this?  how many times in my life am i going to be asked 'hey, can we cast your boob?'  the answers are 'no one' and 'never again'.

and, hey, i'm getting more action than ever before.  there are potentially hundreds of students groping me as we speak.  how many people do you know that can say THAT?

that's right, just one: STEPH MOTHERFUCKIN' GAS!