it's never too late to save a hopeless case

ergh. hello there.

2012-02-19T23:04:00.001-05:00

my bad, y'all. i've been so busy and crap that i just keep forgetting to blog. but i have stories, loves.

i'm still on the whole nothavingtimetodoanything wagon. i wake up, go to the gym (most days), work at home, go to the shop, hopefully stick some needles in people, come home. if i get home earlyish, i make and eat dinner. if i work until 10, i take off my makeup and fall into bed. during down time at the shop, i do my college coursework. and on my days off from the shop, i try to get some food shopping done, watch a movie, and go get shit done. because on my days off from the shop, i still do the work-from-home thing.

it's a lot. like, a lot a lot. if i didn't have happy pills and tarzipan, i'm not sure it would be possible. but this is what grown ups do... right? i'm not working two jobs because we need the money. i'm working two jobs because i want to be bringing some income in while piercing. hopefully the more piercings i do, more people will want to come let me pierce them, and i'll start making more money, and maybe i won't need the work-at-home job for income.

because the i'd basically be doing something i really like. something that i enjoy. which is really great. how many people get to say that?

in cat news, jake is ridiculous. apparently he only loves me when i'm naked and dripping wet.

i know how that sounds. but wait a moment.

so when i shower, i always leave the bathroom door cracked so the cats can get to the litter boxes if they need to. jake's new thing is to come into the bathroom while i'm in the shower and wait on the bath mat. if he's not in there the whole time, he rushes in once he hears the shower curtain open. as soon as i step onto the bathmat, jake starts rubbing on my legs, purring. and getting wet because i've not toweled off yet. and if i don't step out of the shower fast enough, he jumps up on the side of the tub to try and reach me. he will stretch out and put his paws on my thighs.

jake rubs all over my legs, purring and kneading the bathmat, while i start getting dressed. then i have to sit on the side of the tub so he can jump up on my lap and keep making muffins on me. and i scratch his little face and he purrs and rubs his face on my hands and digs his claws into my thighs and loves me.

the rest of the time, he just fucking ignores me.

also, i know i've not told any of you about my awesome vacation to disney world or posted the gazillion photos that were taken, but i will do that really soon. i hope. i'm off tomorrow and awesome husband will be away on business, so i may have time to shop for shoes i don't need/eat too many twizzlers/watch 'breaking dawn: part 1' again/organize photos/post said photos. we'll see.

fingers crossed.

and finally tonight, i've gotten a new tattoo. it's a jellyfish. to go with my mermaid. i kind of want to post photos, but it's in the peely stage and will look better once it's healed. so you'll have to wait.

you like how i did that? dangled that tantalizing tidbit in front of you to ensure you keep coming back for more?

as if my tattoos would keep you coming back for more.

best google searches

2012-02-02T16:29:00.000-05:00

this is kind of a lame blog post, but i always read my stat thingies and see what brings people to my blog. here's a list of some of my favorite and/or most flummoxing.

people making empanadas
do twizzlers expire
cat fuck love
entrance to disney world tunnels
expired twizzlers
bewbz
u no poo
can i save my migrated nipple ring
date on twizzlers is that a manufacture date
taylor little fuck
hogsmead train station
do twizzlers go bad

so, obviously, the ONE FUCKING BLOG POST i wrote about twizzlers is a big draw. and the harry potterville at universal studios.

but mostly the fucking twizzlers.

adventures in breakfast

2012-01-30T09:30:00.001-05:00

i always figured i didn't like oatmeal. i think i may have tried it when i was younger. but i know i don't like farina or cream or whateverthehellyou'retryingtofeedme or shit like that. i clumped oatmeal into the basket.

embarking on a new ~~diet~~ lifestyle is always tricky, but i was trying to find ways to eat things besides cinnamon toast crunch for breakfast every day. not because i'm tired of cinnamon toast crunch, omfg are you serious? i love that cereal like a fat early-30s girl loves cinnamon toast crunch.

that's the saying, right??

so i picked up a box of quaker oatmeal. cinnamon sugar oatmeal, obvs. figured it would be cinnamondelicious.

and i decided to make it this morning. i poured the little packet of oat thingies into a bowl, added the required 2/3 cup of cold water, bunged the thing in the microwave for 1:30 (packet said 1-2 minutes, way to be specific dick) and waited.

it was a bit soupy. so i stirred it and put another :30 on the timer.

and it was still a bit soupy. and BLAZING hot. i decided to bring it in my office and let it cool off a bit. as it did, it thickened into all it's cinnamon-oaty glory. and smelled pretty good, if a little oaty.

then i decided to try it. and was met with a consistency unlike any i had ever encountered before. and i did not like it. so i sent a text to awesome husband.... what follows is our convo.

me: do i have to chew oatmeal?

awesome husband: Um. Maybe.

me: then i don't like them. swallowing them without chewing is possible but i don't know how fucking long it will take to digest.

me: which may be good. then i won't have to eat again all day.

awesome husband: I would guess that you should chew it.

me: then i still dislike oatmeal.

of course, i had already swallowed-without-chewing half of the bowl. so i probably won't eat for another 6 or 7 hours, right? does anyone know the answer to this? do i have to chew oatmeal? because, if so, cinnamon toast crunch shall remain my breakfast of choice.

omfg you guys

2012-01-27T20:20:00.001-05:00

seriously. worst blogger ever. i get a gig piercing things and i end up ignoring all of you.

anyway, just a quick check in... from the tattoo shop :) i haven't stuck any needles in things today. it's been a slow week. although i DID take my county thingamajig that means i'll get a fancy certificate and that i know how to not get AIDS. or other blood borne pathogen thingies.

but really, AIDS*.

but i've been busy. working at home in the mornings. working at the shop in the afternoon/evenings. doing schoolwork in between. occasionally cuddling with my cats. seeing awesome husband once in a while. i haven't even had time to cook proper meals. so not only am i the worst blogger, i'm the worst wife. awesome husband has been cleaning.

seriously. i haven't cleaned anything in, like, months. except the bathroom. i've cleaned that ONCE since thanksgiving.

so, thanks for hanging in there. i have some ideas for upcoming blogs and my schedule should be slowing down a little bit. until then, look at this picture.


my little babeh sammy cat. i love her so much <3

*according to my brother, one can make jokes about anything that has affected one. we can make gay jokes, cancer jokes, AIDS jokes, and diabetes jokes because we have had gay family members, family members who've died of AIDS, family members who've died of cancer, and revbobdad has the diabetes. so either lighten up or fuck off - i'm making AIDS jokes.

reasons why SOPA/PIPA are tools of the devil you may or may not believe in

2012-01-18T11:19:00.002-05:00

i'm up on my soapbox today. since i don't know how to blackout my blog for a day (not like anyone would care either) i've decided to use it to try and spread the word, yo.

the word of SOPA/PIPA and how they will break the internet. seriously.

first, let me make sure we all get what SOPA/PIPA are. check out this awesome video with chad vader and our pal jenny the bloggess:

got that? okay, onto the next. check out what everyone's favorite search engine google has to say about SOPA/PIPA: https://www.google.com/landing/takeaction/

and our gal nicki who does the loaded handbag happened to write an excellent article about SOPA/PIPA which you can find here: What Your World Will Look Like if SOPA Passes (Hint: It’s Not Pretty)

and finally, http://www.blackoutsopa.org/ has some great information and links to your congresspeople.

get on it, people. please contact your representatives and tell them you do not support SOPA and PIPA. email them. call their offices. tweet them. facebook them. and tell your friends to do the same. or the next time you link a youtube video of your favorite song on facebook, you may be breaking the law.

i want to include a comment i made on jenny's blog earlier today. i'm totally pirating myself - and i'm okay with that.

to any artists who have commented that online piracy costs you money, we get it. online piracy is a problem that costs many artists time and money – often, time and money that they don’t have. but what sopa/pipa will do won’t solve the problem of online piracy. they’ll just break the internet and censor everyone.

i’m an artist, too. and without sites like facebook, twitter, youtube, blogger, pinterest, and etsy, i’d never be able to share or sell my art. if sopa/pipa were put into law, those websites may never exist again – or will be so heavily censored that many artists will be unable to use them for sharing/selling their art.

yes, online piracy is a problem. but would you rather support censorship of art, or get paid? i know we all need to get paid – but the art community cannot support censorship. yes, i’d love to get paid – but i’d prefer to keep the community open, honest, and UNCENSORED BY THE GOVERNMENT.

the final countdown

2012-01-09T20:24:00.000-05:00

we're going on vacation. i'm very excited to get back to disney. it's been over a year since awesome husband and i have been to disney and the last time was to DEFINITELY NOT scatter any of my mother's ashes on pirates of the caribbean. we would never do that.

awesome husband, my brother, and sisterfromanothermister will be going to disney together. we're really excited to go back because it's been so long - awesome husband and i are used to going, like, two or three times a month. we also got the dining plan so we'll be eating like kings and queens! lol

so the body piercing thing is going really well. i've made a few mistakes and have learned from them, which is great. not HUGE mistakes, but you know. fixable mistakes. fixable thanks to the fact that my mentor has been piercing for 29 years and is AMAZING. i've pierced quite a few ears, belly buttons, and lips. and a handful of nostrils, tongues, and eyebrows. i'm still waiting on a septum, monroe, medusa, and nipple - then i'll have done every piercing above the belt :D

and on the adult acne front, things are getting better. bet some of you didn't know that in addition to the batshit crazy, i also suffer from adult acne, did you?

now you do.

anyway, nothing ever works at all. so i decided to start getting facials and see if that helps. the spa i found was well-reviewed for acne facials so i headed over. i went three weeks in a row at $80 a pop (ouch) and purchased $140 worth of the product they recommended (also ouch). and today i paid $130 for a non-acid peel (ouchouchouchouch). HOWEVER my skin hasn't looked this clear in years! i'm going through some purging right now so i have a few pimples that come up and go away quickly, and i'm getting some drying. once my skin balances, it should look pretty good. it's already really smooth, my aesthetician says that the ultrasound thingy does that. i mean, smoothy smooth smooth. hopefully once my skin balances we can work on the acne scarring and see if that can be improved. and now i only have to go every 3-4 weeks for a facial. and i was spending about $120 a month on shit that wasn't working. really fucking frustrating. so i'm pleased today.

awesome husband got an awesome new tattoo. i wanted to show it to you all.


yes, he's hardcore. he also likes hardcore music. so, you know. it means many things. although he did point out that his right hand will always say 'hard' now.

time won't give me time.

2011-12-30T10:33:00.002-05:00

i know it's been slow around here, but i've been pretty busy. with the piercing-apprenticing, my 'regular' job, and getting ready for the holidays, i feel like i've been stretched pretty thin. awesome husband's been cleaning the house for me. seriously. and then i got sick at christmas. i was feeling eh christmas night and then was sick at work the next day. today's my first day feeling normal again :(

and that was all while on break from school. i'm more than a bit nervous about how i'll juggle everything when school is added back into the mix.

of course, i'm going to be piercing part time. i'm just spending as much time at the shop as i can now so i can see and learn as much as possible. so once i'm not spending what seems like every waking moment at the shop to learn, it should be easier. i'm also probably going to bring my computer to the shop so i can do schoolwork while i'm there. that should make a big difference.

today's the first time i've cleaned the bathroom in weeks. i've been making awesome husband do it. here's a snapshot of what my time has been like.

monday: wake up. shower. work at 'normal' job from 9-3pm. do house stuff or school stuff until 6pm. cook dinner. spend time with awesome husband. bed at 11pm.

tuesday: wake up. shower. work at 'normal' job from 9-3pm. do house or school stuff until 6pm. food shopping. make dinner. spend time with awesome husband. bed at 11pm.

wednesday: wake up. shower. work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm. take care of randomly scheduled 'thing' (doctor's appointment, holiday shopping, other errand). go to shop from 2ish until 8pm. go home. eat something. hang out with awesome husband until bed at 11pm.

thursday: wake up. shower. work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm. do some household-y stuff. go to shop from 2ish until 8pm. go home. eat something. hang with awesome husband until bed at 11pm.

friday: wake up. shower. work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm. fuck around online for an hour. poke at the cats for a bit. go to shop form 2 or 3ish until 10pm. go home. eat something. go to bed at 11pm.

saturday: wake up. shower. work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm. squeeze in an hour of family time (either with awesome husband and the cats, awesome husband's family, whatever). head to the shop from 2ish to 10pm. go home. eat something. poke at the cats. go to bed by 12am.

sunday: SLEEP LATE (late being maybe 9am). grab breakfast or early lunch with awesome husband. head to shop around noonish until 6pm. go home. order sunday night pizza. stare at the television blubbering until bedtime at 10pm.

lather, rinse, repeat. as you can see, there is little to no room for cleaning the house, cooking appropriate meals, playing video games, reading, blogging, or seeing friends. this gets my my 7-7.5 hours a night (i can't fall asleep right away) which i need or my medications make me like a zombie. and when you look at it, i feel like a little bitch for complaining. i'm doing 23, 24 hours for my 'normal' job and 35ish in the shop. and it's not like i'm WORKING in the shop. i watch a lot, i do a few piercings, i study, i play sudoku, i fuck around with the tattoo artists, i look up ideas for my next tattoos. occasionally i vacuum and take out garbage. but it's still a 'job'. so i'm 'working' almost 60 hours a week in my mind.

the last time i held a full time job (40 a week plus a bit of OT) i landed in the psych ward with a nervous breakdown. so you can see my trepidation here. it's terrifying, thinking that it might happen again. yes, i have better medication this time. yes, they're both less stressful jobs (you'd think that sticking needles through people is stressful - and you'd be right. but the full time job that landed me in the nuthouse was in stocks and funds and shit. and i don't like numbers) but there's SO MUCH OF THEM. the time i do have free, i don't want to DO things aside from stare and blubber a bit. maybe cuddle with awesome husband or go out to dinner.

and then of course this week i was sick. today's my first day out of the house really since monday. and since i'm trying to catch up on my 'normal' job a bit, it means i'll be at the shop even less than i should be. which just prolongs the process a bit; i need 1000 hours of time before i'm not like an apprentice any longer.

and i'm learning a lot. i feel pretty damn confident with most of the common piercings. i'd like to see some of the less common ear piercings before doing them. but i've already seen a lip, monroe, tongue, nostril, navel, and hood piercing (i was surprised that the woman let me watch, but thrilled that she did because seeing it done really made the written process make sense). i've already done two nostrils (including awesome husband's), three navels, a helix (cartilage on the ear), a tongue, and a lip. i almost botched one navel because there was so much scar tissue. but luckily my mentor was there and rescued me. he's been piercing for almost thirty years and has seen most of it - and if he hasn't seen it in person, he knows about it. i'm lucky to be learning from someone like him.

i can always back off a bit too. i mean, at this rate, i'd have my 1000 hours in about seven months. which would be GREAT, but it's not a race. i figure i'll keep plugging away like this until i've seen and performed most of the piercings, including ones i'm less confident about. then maybe i can cut back a bit. who knows, maybe i can take a day off every week!

---------------------------------

so tomorrow's new year's eve. we don't have big plans - a quiet night at home, i'm sure. we got a nifty fondue set for the holiday so we might cheese fondue it up. because, yum. i'll let you know how that turns out.

and as for our 'new car'? still in the shop, waiting for an engine. at this point, it's been in the shop longer than it's been in our possession since we bought it. damn it all. at least they finally got awesome husband a loaner car.

well, hello there.

2011-12-17T23:23:00.000-05:00

it's been a while. well, what... a week? last we chatted i told you about my sisters and their soap-opera-y parental situation.

things have been hectic since then. i haven't really 'announced' it or anything (even though i personally think it deserves announcing) but i've been asked to apprentice as a body piercer. so yours truly will be jabbing needles through various pieces of flesh shortly. i'm superexcited about it and think it's an awesome opportunity - and one that not everyone gets. the piercer that's teaching me has been piercing for like 25 years, and is one of the best.

but it's a hectic time of year to be adding to my schedule. while i'm apprenticing, i basically want to be in the shop as much as i possibly can. that way, i can see as many piercings as possible and learn as much as i can. the shop is closed monday and tuesday. so i have 20-23 hours a week for my at home facilitator job, 15ish hours a week for school, and then A LOT of time at the shop. i try to get there wed-fri by 3pm and they're open until 8 on wed/thurs and 10 on friday. and then like 2pm to 10pm on saturday. and 12ish to 6 on sunday.

which adds up to... hmm...

a lot of hours.

thankfully i had much of my holiday shopping done and was able to finish up the rest online. now i just have to wrap.

today we had first christmas at my inlaw's house. part of the family cannot come to christmas on christmas so we had first christmas. and we thought 4 kids were going to be there. turns out our four nieces and nephews would be there too, and we were giving them their gifts too. and OF COURSE i hadn't wrapped anything yet.

and we had to go pick up a loaner car first. so it was hectic. and i feel like i have no time to wrap presents.

the loaner car was because we bought a brand new car three weeks ago. and it already needs a new engine. i'm livid, but awesome husband (diesel mechanic extraordinaire) says this kind of stuff happens sometimes. the dealership has had our brand new, less than 600 miles car for five days and still hadn't given us a loaner. and awesome husband has to go away for school soon and i need a car here so i can, you know. do things. and the dealership kept fucking us around and pissing me off and whatever. i love the new car, but i'm really a bit pissed at the dealership.

i mean, they called us and were like 'we have a loaner now, come get it' so we go to get it (after wrapping the gifts). and they make awesome husband wait like 20 minutes and then they say 'oh, we need to FIND THE CAR'. like it was fucking lost? YOU JUST TOLD US YOU HAD IT.

anyway.

on top of that, i seem to have pinched a nerve or something in my shoulder? it hurts. a lot. it hurts to do almost anything. and pills don't seem to help :/ hopefully that goes away soon. i'm thinking i may now have a valid reason to schedule a massage for monday.

a funny old thing

2011-12-10T22:35:00.001-05:00

one day, i'll get back to writing funny posts.

it's not that funny stuff doesn't happen in my life any longer. it's not that my sense of humor is drastically different. it's just that i think about things differently, i guess.

i had an excellent day today. i woke up way too early and started working, only for a couple of hours. then i showered and got ready to spend the day with reverend bobdad because my half sisters were competing (cheerleaders). rev bobdad picked me up and we went to my first ex-stepmother's house (rev bobdad's second ex-wife. yup. we're counting). we then went to the high school where the competition was being held and who is sitting in the bleachers but my ex-stepmother's sort-of husband who also happens to be the biological father of my half sisters.

yea, i know. it's near impossible to follow.

let's try this again.

i have sisters. twin sisters that are 15. they were born when my dad was married to my first ex-stepmother, so they were my half sisters. when they were 4 my first stepmother became my first EX-stepmother when she divorced my dad and quickly married her masseuse. then when my half sisters were 8 we found out they WERE NOT my dad's children, but they were biologically the masseuse's children. for all intents and purposes, though, they are my sisters. we have the same dad ('dad' and 'sperm donor' are two different things), we have the same last name (i hyphenated), and they are - and will always be - my sisters. there has been a lot of bad blood between their biological father and our rev bobdad (among other people). the biological father-slash-masseuse is still legally married to my first ex-stepmother, but they no longer live in the same household. my rev bobdad sees my sisters twice a week for dinner, and the biological father sees them a couple of times a month.

if you're following, good for you. i should write a book.

so we walk into the gym and there sits biological father-slash-asshole. but he did save seats for ALL of us (my rev bobdad included) so that was something. awkward, but something.

he did look me in the eye for a nanosecond when he said hello to me. he did not look my rev bobdad in the eye.

then my rev bobdad went to get a drink, and brought back a bottle of water for each of us - including biological father-slash-asshole. which was nice. but they didn't, like, interact.

so we all watched my sisters perform. and high school cheerleading competitions are a little bit like 'bring it on'. but with no espn reporters. and less people. and blaque isn't there.

but, you know. other than that, pretty much the same.

my sister's school didn't place, sadly. but my rev bobdad, sisters, and i were all going to our favorite steakhouse afterward, so it would be okay. right?

wrong. as soon as biological father-slash-asshole got wind of my rev bobdad doing something with the girls, he got all biological-parenty and was like, i'm taking the girls out.

so we let him have his fun and went back to first ex-stepmother's house to watch television and have a snack. and my rev bobdad fixed her motion sensor light. and bought stuff to recaulk one of the bathroom tubs. and bought a new clothes hanging rod thingy for one of my sister's closets.

anyway.

then they came home and we hung out for a bit and then we went to our steakhouse. and had some steak and some fun conversation. i remember when they were younger and were almost afraid of me. now we talk like adults. i love them.

we also talked a bit about the whole situation. about how they used to think it was normal to have two dads. they call rev bobdad 'dad' or 'daddy' and biological father-slash-asshole 'papa'. one of my sisters told me that when first ex-stepmother (their mother, follow along please) told her that papa was their biological father, and daddy was their dad, she didn't get it. but that was years ago. we get it now.

i really wanted to ask what they got. my rev bobdad was no saint, let me tell you. he drank himself out of his first marriage (to my mom) and couldn't keep his pants on. but faith can do strange things to a man and after he was saved (he's a born again christian. charismatic christian. whatever you want to call it) rev bobdad was a bit of a new man. he has 27 years sober and is a great dad to those girls. he was a drunken fool to me, and mostly just a fool to my brother. but a man lives and learns (so does a woman for that matter). i really wanted to ask my sisters if they got that, while my rev bobdad was married to first ex-stepmother, she fucked her masseuse and got pregnant with them.

like, really wanted to know if they understood that.

which is wrong. i mean, number 1: they're 15. number 2: you can't know your own mother's a liar. children need to be able to love and trust their parents. if you are told your parent is wrong or bad, it can destroy you.

blood is not always thicker than water. my aunt proved that to me in a negative way, and my sisters prove it to me time and time again in a positive way. i am in no way related to them - we share no blood. they are nothing to me.

but they are my sisters. we talked a bit about that - how blood relatives aren't always the best. i told them how their mother - who is nothing to me, relation-wise - was more supportive to me during my mother's passing than my aunt - who is a blood relation, my mother's sister - was. they mentioned about wanting to take their biological father-slash-asshole's name because it matches their nationalities, and i told them my last name is italian even though i'm irish, english, german, and scottish because i took my husband's last name. names don't mean anything either. it's not the people who share your name or your blood who are your family - it's the people who love and support you.

i think they understand it. i think they know what their mother did, and how my rev bobdad, awesome husband, my brother, and i are NOTHING to them - nothing. we only share a name because my father's last name is still on the birth certificates. i think they understand more than anyone gives them credit for. and i think they are the strongest girls i know for it.

sunday night

2011-12-04T22:29:00.001-05:00

my mom passed away a year ago yesterday. i spent the night at one of my family's favorite restaurants with family members who have supported my brother, awesome husband, my father, and i since my mother's passing. it was nice to have something fun and positive to look forward to instead of focusing on her death all day.

anyone who reads my blog may have seen a comment from my cousin on my last blog, posted on the anniversary of my mother's death. i'm glad i didn't read it yesterday because it probably would have ruined my day.

the saying goes there are three sides to every story: yours, mine, and the truth. this story has, like, seven fucking sides, for real. obviously one side is the truth. but then there's my aunt's side, her daughter's side as perceived through what her mother told her and what she witnessed. then there's my mother's side, and my side based on what mom told me and what i witnessed. then my brother's side based on what mom told him and what he witnessed. and my husband's side, and my father's side, and my uncle's side.... you get the drift.

i know what i know based on long discussions with my mother, the emails my mom showed me, the emails my brother and i sent back and forth with my aunt, and facts my mother, father, and other family members have corroborated. that is my truth.

that is all i can live in: my truth. i can't live in someone else's truth, i can't force myself to have feelings i don't have any more than i can force my eyes to change color.

my mother was my best friend.

i used to just think about losing her and i'd get hysterical. i never thought i'd be able to live without her - literally, i figured i'd have to kill myself once she died because i'd have no way to go on. she was my best friend and there was nothing we didn't talk about.

my mother was my best friend and i still don't know if i can get over her death. and over the last year, all i've wanted is to surround myself with people who love and support me. once people show hate, disrespect, or do whatever the opposite of supporting me is - i cannot allow them to have that kind of affect on my life.

my mother was my best friend, and today is the 366th day i've lived without her. and to me, that's a fucking accomplishment.

i miss you mom.

mom and i on our cruise, november 2008

part six

2011-12-02T17:20:00.001-05:00

after delivering the news to mom's brother and sister in new york, we went to my dad's brother's house for thanksgiving dinner. much drinking was done. we talked about mom and life and stuff.

i had been playing a strange version of phone-and-internet tag with my mom's older sister in california. they had been close years ago but had not spoken in some months. when mom was first in the hospital, i posted it on facebook and tried to call my aunt with no answer because i had the wrong number. i tried to get her to email me and all she did was email me her number. so i tried to call her and left her a message. mom had been in the hospital for five days already and her sister finally called me back around 10pm on thanksgiving night.

a bit of background here. no one else in the family really spoke to this aunt. my mother's other sister and brother had their own issues with this aunt that i don't have anything to do with. my mom, my brother, and i had always maintained a relationship with this aunt and my cousin in california. i used to spend summers out there to hang out with my cousin (she's only six months younger than me). my mom and this sister were close and not close over periods of their lives. this sister was not always nice to my mom, and we'll just leave it at that for now. but seriously - NOT NICE. my mom had spent a year living in california with my aunt and uncle. there are many reasons why she came back to florida, which again i won't get in to here.

still in background phase, my aunt and mother had a bit of a falling out in the spring of 2010. we all worked from home with the same company. i ended up starting my own company to save money (it's long and confusing, don't make me explain it. the company we worked under took a percentage of our pay, i didn't do that in my company). i was able to add my mother to my company as vice president and save her money too. i told the president of our old company i was leaving, then mom told them she was leaving. and the president of the old company contacted my aunt like 'are you leaving too?' this set my aunt off for some reason. she emailed my mother saying she was hurt that my mom didn't tell her about this, my mom wanted to call her because she doesn't like email, my aunt refused to take her calls. the emails went back and forth and back for weeks. the end of it was that my mother apologized, my aunt wouldn't accept it, and my mother decided she was not going to engage my aunt any longer. my mother decided my aunt was toxic (the same conclusion her other sister and brother had come to) and stopped talking to her. the only contact they had after that was when my mom didn't show up online to work for a few days, my aunt emailed her to make sure she was okay. my mom responded that she was, and that was that. when we decided we were moving back to new york, my mom sent her a quick email to let her know and my aunt did not reply.

fast forward back to mom in ICU. mom did not want us to tell this aunt that she was in the hospital. mom did not want us contacting this aunt. mom did not want this aunt to come or call or anything. my mom's friend and i convinced her that we should let this aunt know - i mean, they were sisters. so i had tried to contact her.

and on thanksgiving night, she finally called me back. it was after 10pm EST and we were done with dessert. i had had a couple of drinks and we were all sitting around the table, just bullshitting, when my phone rang. i took it into one of the bedrooms to have some privacy.

i told my aunt that my mother had stage IV metastatic lung cancer that had invaded her spleen, liver, and brain. i told my aunt that my mother had been sleeping for a day and that they told me not to bother flying back to florida. i told my aunt that my mother was dying.

my aunt told me that she 'doesn't do funerals'.

there was more to the conversation: my aunt telling me that my mother would only want comfort care, my aunt telling me that she knew what my mother wanted, my aunt telling me that she talked to my mother about this, my aunt telling me that she knew my mother best.

i didn't really register most of it past 'i'm not coming out because i don't do funerals'.

she never asked how WE were doing, my brother and i. she never asked if WE NEEDED HER. she only told me that she knew what my mother wanted, she only tried to make me feel like i wasn't doing what was right. she told me to tell my mother 'if she wants me, i'm here but if not, then go with god'.

my mother was lying in ICU, dying at 56. i was 30 years old, on thanksgiving night, having just told my mother's entire living family that my mother was dying. and my fucking aunt told me 'i don't do funerals' and 'if your mother wants me, i'm here, but if not, then go with god'.

i never told my mother that we called this aunt. i didn't want to upset her.

i have always tried to live by a motto of sorts: no remorse, no regret. what's done is done and we cannot change it. but if there is anything in this life that i might regret, it's answering the fucking phone that thanksgiving night and engaging my aunt. because this started months - MONTHS - of bullshit back and forth between this aunt, myself, and my brother. this begun MONTHS of fighting over money and possessions, MONTHS of this aunt holding money over my brother's and my heads to try and get things that she wanted that were my mothers.

i took a long time thinking about this post and trying to figure out what to write. i know some family members read my blog. and my blog is semi-anonymous, so anyone can read it and if they know me, they know who i'm talking about. including this aunt or her daughter, my cousin, whom i've tried to maintain a relationship with.

thankfully, after i got off the phone with this aunt my other aunt (dad's sis-in-law) had a large bottle of bailey's for us to enjoy. and enjoy it we did.

i was glad awesome husband had flown up thanksgiving morning. we stayed at his parents house, and i cannot express in words what it meant to have him holding me that night.

black friday was the next day. usually i'd go to the mall to make fun of people shopping, or do a teeny bit of my own shopping. instead i spent the day at the hospital - the last full day we'd be at the hospital. because mom was going to be moved to the palliative care unit and then, hopefully, they'd have a bed for her at a local hospice.

cleaning out my life

2011-11-20T20:47:00.001-05:00

i keep looking at this bag in my bedroom. it's like half full of clothes and shit that awesome husband and i need to get rid of. and we just leave it there. open. because we keep meaning to go through our drawers and the closet and what not and get rid of more shit. because, you know. we have a lot of shit.

in one drawer there's this pair of jeans that i love. something about the way they're cut, the flares are really neat, whatever it is. i just love how they fit. but they don't fit me 'right' anymore. they used to but now they don't. they don't respect me the way i am.

same for some people. someone i considered one of my best friends posted some picture about moving back to florida on facebook with a countdown. like happy her and her husband are moving back to florida. and neither of them said anything to awesome husband or me. even though we like texted back and forth a couple of weeks ago. you don't decide to move shortways across the country in like a few days. so OBVIOUSLY they had decided well before then, like they knew the last time i spoke to them.

when we all lived in florida, they were scared to tell us they were moving back to new york because they thought we'd be mad. i love these people like family and told them like, yah i'll miss you and i'm sad you're leaving but i'm so excited that you're making a move that's better for your family.

when we decide we were moving back to new york, mom and awesome husband and me, i didn't say ANYTHING about it on facebook or anything like that until i told my best friend in person. i would have loved to start networking and sharing my news right away, but i needed to be sure that i told my bestie before the general public knew.

it was the right thing for me to do.

but these friends, this couple that i thought of as family, just posted this shit and left it. didn't say anything to me, didn't bother to call or text or anything. flat out disrespectful. you tell me you think of me as fucking family? treat me like family. don't disrespect me.

it's like those jeans. i love them, but they got to go. i can't keep things - or people - in my life who disrespect me. i've spent way too long learning how to love myself for who i am, i can't let people treat me like that.

did i lash out on facebook? i sure as fuck did. is that immature or whatever? yeah i bet it is. is it disrespectful? YES IT IS. when people treat my badly, i don't sink to their level. like when someone cuts me off in traffic, i don't have to get them back - i let it go. when someone flat out disrespects me? i have to let them know.

did i overreact? yeah, maybe. but you know it's better to learn what someone truly thinks of you before it's too late.

so awesome husband and i should probably get to that bag of clothes soon. 'that which is temporal will be cut away'.

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in other news, we're shopping for a new car. i was offered an opportunity i can't pass up and we need a second car asap so i can take advantage of it. we're hoping to go test driving or whatever over the next couple of days. exciting, for sure. i'll be busy enough this week with black friday coming up. working in sales/retail does that to you.

a year ago tomorrow we found out mom had cancer. ultimately, still just counting days. it's not just counting those days that mark when mom passed, or marking the days i've had without her. it's about the days i have left. life is short. days pass in what seem like hours, weeks fly by. it was just the middle of summer and i was sweating in the backyard, now it's about to be winter and the holiday season is here again.

life is to short to put up with people mistreating you. i refuse to let people or jeans treat me without respect.

at least i'm washing my hair every other day.

2011-11-16T20:55:00.001-05:00

so i'm having a bit of a rough week. i just keep feeling like i can't get going. i don't really want to get out of bed, i don't really want to get in the shower, i don't really want to eat anything, i don't really want to work. i kind of want to snuggle down with cats and just watch movies or read or something. when i do get out of bed, i don't want to exercise or do my yoga. when i do get in the shower, i can't be bothered to wash my hair. when i do eat, i don't want to have to make anything.

i'm not sure what's changed. i'm performing well at work, i'm doing well in this class block. awesome husband and i are making decent money, we just booked a trip to disney world in january.

like, i know it's that time of year. a year ago yesterday was mom's first day at the new job in new york. i guess because i didn't go through it last year, i didn't know what to expect. last year i was planning steph gas, making sure shit was getting done. even after mom passed, i went home to florida, got caught up with my shit, and flew back to new york for the holiday (and got stranded by a blizzard). but i was still planning, planning, planning, just making sure things that needed to get done were getting done.

is this what it's supposed to be like?

my brother and i have often talked about grief. have we really grieved? we both talk about waiting for the other shoe to drop, worried that one day we'll just lose it. one of the bereavement counselors i spoke with said it's likely that my brother and i started grieving once we heard the words 'metastatic lung cancer'. that's very possible.

mom was always up front about life and death. we were never taught to feel bad for people when they died, but happy that they were in a better place. it was okay for us to be sad because we missed them, but people die. it's a natural part of life. mom wouldn't want us to be sad and cry and focus on the time we're missing with her, but to be happy and focus on the time we had with her. not to think about the fact that she won't see awesome husband and i celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary or be with taylor (the old deaf cat) when he eventually dies, but to remember that she was there at our wedding and took care of taylor when he was sick.

and i feel like i think about that. i don't think about the time i'm not going to have with my mom, but the time i did have with my mom. i don't sit around sad about mom or pitying myself that my mom is gone, or expecting others to pity me because my mom is dead. i don't feel like i focus on this, that it's always in my mind and affecting everything i do day to day.

but here i am, approaching the one year anniversary of my mother's death, and i just don't want to fucking live. not that i'm suicidal (been there, done that) but that i don't want to participate.

i'm alive, but i'm not living.

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my brother, awesome husband, and i are planning a dinner at our family's favorite steakhouse for the anniversary. after my step father passed away in 2003, my mom and dad became good friends again. he'd come over for dinner (usually at my insistence) and i even orchestrated our first - and only - real family vacation with our biological mom and dad together. mom, dad, awesome husband, my brother, and myself all went to disney world in 2006. my parents ended up becoming good friends again and mom would often come with us to this steakhouse my dad had discovered with his second ex-wife. (um, wait. i mean 'second wife', right? hmm. second ex-wife seems more appropriate for dad). my mom and dad even went out to dinner without us kids sometimes, and my mom was staying with my dad when she first moved back to new york. it was just temporary, but still.

after my step dad died, christmas morning became a new thing. we'd wake up early and make dad come to our house ('our' - mom, my brother, awesome husband, me). i'd make breakfast and we'd go through our stockings (we always put strange stuff in there) and open gifts. last year was the first year without mom. we did christmas morning at my dad's house. it was strange. i'm currently planning on having christmas morning here and making my dad come over. but then i think about starting new traditions. is that part of grieving? maybe if we make new traditions, instead of trying to carry on the old ones that included mom, it will make this time of year easier.

but maybe it's not about staying away from things that used to include mom. maybe it's about continuing to do those things in spite of the fact that mom's not here anymore.

laziness.

2011-11-10T13:21:00.001-05:00

among other things. it's been a solid month since i took an unintended sabbatical from my blog. i can make you excuses, if you'd like.

i've been busy with school. maintaining a 3.75 GPA while taking algebra isn't easy.
i've been busy with work. my new position really started the last week in september and i've been kicking into high gear to get my merry band of ruffians up to snuff for my client.
i've been busy not living. you know, hanging out watching cartoons and going out to eat with awesome husband once a week. or twice.
i've been busy shopping. yes, i've shopped a few times. there are numerous new shirts and a coach bag that attest to that.

but i won't give you all of those excuses. what i can give you is the fucking truth.

i just didn't have it in me.

working with a retail company forces you to count the days until black friday, which means you are actually counting the days until thanksgiving, the last day that you can not worry as much about bottom lines and sales and shit like that. once black friday rolls out, you will be eating, drinking, breathing, and sleeping your sales numbers.

do you know why it's called black friday? it ended up being a huge shopping day and would get many companies out of the red and into the black. you accounting nuts may know that being 'in the red' means you're using red ink in your accounting ledger because you fucks are OUT OF MONEY. your company is spending more than it makes. so on black friday, everyone stumbles out of their tryptophan-induced stupor and shops, spending more money than they should, to get your company out of the red and into the BLACK. so you can use black ink in your ledger. meaning PROFIT yo.

so here i am, counting the days down until thanksgiving. you may realize that the last entry (part five) in my story about mom's passing ended on thanksgiving day. i think i finally have the balls to write part six. some of my family members read this blog (it's semi-anonymous - i post it on my facebook so people i know IRL can read my blog, but the rest of you don't REALLY know who i am) and this story may upset or piss off some of them.

but in counting the days to thanksgiving, i realize i'm counting the days to the anniversary of my mother's death. december 3rd will mark one year without my mom. a lot has changed, a lot has stayed the same. in some way, i feel like my mom dying has made me an adult. i know before her passing, i had bills and a mortgage and a car payment and a husband and what not. but something is just different. planning your parent's funeral at 30 is really annoying. having to write all the thank you notes, deal with death certificates and hospital crap, it all sucks. having to go through everything. it's hard some days.

my dad's parents passed away within a year of each other. my grandma passed suddenly in october 2000, and my grandfather in august 2001. i remember going through a lot of their things with my dad. he and my uncle divvied up the furniture, selling some of it. they went through all the beleek china, with my brother and i calling out our favorites. that was a funny day. they don't give a crap about beleek, i'm telling you. so my dad and uncle laid out all the beleek on the big dining room table and would hold up two comparable pieces - like two cup and saucer sets. and say 'well, which do you want?' then they'd pick up a like a decorative owl and a vase of a similar size.

at one point, though, my dad just started throwing shit out. boxes of photographs. almost all of my grandmother's costume jewelry. we let a plant that had been growing for over 50 years die. my father took his father's passing hard. he still hasn't had the grave marker engraved with my grandpa's date of death. it's been ten years. and my dad was 50 at the time.

if losing your parent at 50 is hard, it must be harder at 30 right?

but then i think about my mom. she was 10 - TEN - when her mom died. i was lucky - fucking lucky - to have my mom for twenty years more than she had her mom. my mom was able to take me shopping for a bra. my mom was able to talk to me about sex. my mom was able to meet one of the first boys that took me on a proper date and drove a car. my mom was able to come see the plays and musicals i worked on, come to my art exhibits at school. my mom was able to watch me graduate high school. my mom was able to watch me walk down the aisle to marry the closest thing to a soul mate anyone could ask for.

so instead of just counting down the days to black friday, to thanksgiving, to the day my mother died, i'm trying to count the days i had with her.

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i'm hoping to start actually blogging again now. i didn't mean to not blog, i just got kind of introspective, i guess. as well as not drinking.

yes, you read that right. i haven't had a drink in over a month. i forgot to start counting, but i know for certain i haven't had a drink since before october 1. so i'm using that as my sober date. who knows how long it will last though? because i really, really want a drink. i feel kind of lame though, being so OMGIDON'TDODRUGSANDHAVEBEENCLEANFORALMOSTTENYEARS and saying it with a margarita in my hand.

we'll see.

ch-ch-ch-changes. but not really.

2011-10-05T18:28:00.002-04:00

i still haven't gone to an al-anon meeting. i keep saying i will. i know i should. but i keep finding other things to do. i mean, we only have one car so i can only go after awesome husband gets home from work. and after we eat dinner. and what not. and i'm mostly lazy.

and i failed another math test. i sincerely hate algebra. with a burning passion. i'm still pulling a 94 in the class. somehow. still hate the shit out of it.

i still haven't found a face-cleaning regimen that doesn't make my acne worse. i don't get why i'm 31 with fucking acne. shouldn't i be worrying about wrinkles and retinol, not acne and salicylic acid?? oh, and i finally started taking my birth control pills last month since my uterus and ovaries despise me. bleeding from my vagina for 13 months straight? my reproductive organs have done it to me. not having my period for 11 months with NO MEDICAL EXPLANATION? they've pulled that shit on me too. anywhere from 45 to 150 days between 'periods' that last from one day to eleven days? that's NORMAL for me. so i finally asked for birth control pills, the ones where you only get your period every 90 days.

i've been taking them for 31 days. guess what just happened.

yes. i got my period. WHAT. THE. FUCK. i don't even know the fucking logistics of this shit. i'm so angry i don't even know if i'm typing english at this point.

i was mostly worried that the shift in my hormones would make me extra batshit crazy. it has not. and the pristiq is still delicious.

of course, i decided i should go back to therapy and started playing the 'let's call therapists and find one that specializes in shit i need and is taking new patients and actually calls me back' game.

i have NO PROSPECTS after a week of playing that game.

but this weekend is my anniversary, awesome husband and i will have been married seven years. he's planning some kind of dinner and museum thing in the city. i keep trying to figure out where he's taking me. i know i mentioned daniel a couple of weeks ago because they have a prix fixe at $195 a person which is A LOT but i mean, hi - it's DANIEL. and then there's bobby flay's bar americain, which he knows i've wanted to go to for a long time. other than that, i have no ideas.

in other news: i'm abusing my slow cooker. i've been making black beans and rice, and middle eastern spiced stews. i also found all the stuff i need to make sushi. i have the bamboo mat rolly thingy, and a sushi rice paddle. sesame seeds (regular and black), sriracha sauce, rice vinegar. now i just need to actually make sushi rice and decide what i'm putting in it. i'm thinking of starting easy with some kind of vegetable rolls and spicy tuna rolls. i'm excited to try though.

other than that, just a normal fall in new york. it's nice to be back, but i forgot how cold it gets at night. i have to remember to close the windows. and i have to call and get oil delivered. which is expensive and annoying.

oh, and i'm working on my next tattoo! awesome husband's sleeve is just about done - expect photos soon. and mine should be done on the 15th. maybe i'll do an entire post with just photos of our new ink :)

terrifying things

2011-09-28T12:40:00.000-04:00

things are just not always 'right'. i have a new job (well, it's similar to my old jobs, but it's better), i'm doing well in school, i have a great family. we make enough money to pay the bills and enjoy a dinner out now and then. i'm planning a family cruise this spring to scatter my mom's ashes. i have four ridiculously amazing cats.

but still. there are times when i NEED the tarzipan. when things just aren't right and i don't know why. when i get aggravated at someone or something and feel like i want to rip my hair out - literally, not figuratively. when i WANT to be active in my addictions: i WANT to cut myself. i WANT to find drugs to use. i WANT to eat the entire bottle of tarzipan and not wake up. ever.

i'm back on *another* diet/lifestyle change/whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit. i'm using a new online tracking tool and tracking my calories in and exercise (which still isn't much). to be perfectly honest with you all, my devoted readers, i am considered 'morbidly obese'.

yes. even though i can walk in 4.5" heels and a size 20/22, i'm morbidly obese. morbidly obese means 'fat enough that you about to die, bitch'.

and yet, my blood pressure is almost perfect - 122/80 at almost all times, a little lower in the early mornings and a little higher at the gynecologist because i get really nervous there. my cholesterol is a bit high, but it's always been so - even when i was 5'7", 135 pounds and my doctor told me i could stand to hold a few more pounds on my frame. i laughed at him.

awesome husband turned into a kind of fit freak after mom died. he works out 4-5 days a week, at least an hour at a time. he watches what he eats (mostly) and takes all these pre work out/post work out shakes. which i don't agree with in theory, but he's gained like 22 pounds. yeah - he was trying to GAIN weight. he always had that worn-in heroin addict chic look.

now his chest measurement is the same as mine: 42".

so awesome husband is 'lovingly concerned' about my weight and health. that's what i keep reminding myself, not that he's going to leave me for a younger/fitter model. not that he is embarrassed to be seen with me in public. not that he is disgusted with and turned off by my body.

but that he doesn't want me to die young like my mom did. 56 is kind of young to die. that's only 25 more years for me. that would mean my life is half over.

and the problem is i'm okay with that. i never thought i'd live to 30, and i'm 31 now. so i figure i'm already on borrowed time. i'd rather be fat and happy than skinny and miserable.

but the problem is that i'm never going to be skinny, miserable or otherwise. my doctors have always told me that 150 is a good goal to shoot for. i still haven't told you all how much i weigh because it's kind of annoying. and i don't think i look like i weigh that much, so i think something is lying to me. i think i have, like, dense, heavy bones because there is no way that i wear the same size clothing i did at 24 and weigh 50 more pounds than i did then. the only thing that's changed is the size of my bra, really. when we got married, i was buying clothes that engulfed me in a size 24 or 26 because i figured hiding myself would hide my fat. then i discovered that wearing the right sizes - 20/22 depending where i was shopping - actually made me look more normal.

now i'm on this diety thing. again. and i know i'll lose maybe 45, 50 pounds (like i have before) and hit a plateau. i gained most of it back after i quit smoking and my mom died (about 20 pounds from quitting smoking, 15ish more after mom died. which i think is good, considering). so this time, losing that 50 pounds will get me a bit 'closer to goal' as it were, but i'll still have A LOT of weight to lose. which is why i'm actually considering surgery for the first time ever. but that's early stages still. i figure i'll stick on this diet for a bit and see what happens.

so the whole lifestyle change thing pisses me off, just on principle. i want to eat an entire bowl of buttery popcorn while reading a book, but i can't. actually, i can have like 5 cups of air popped popcorn with 1tbsp of butter and it's not as bad for me as you'd think. popcorn is low-fat and high-fiber. but in addition to all this shit, i'm considering going to al-anon. which is like alcoholics anonymous for the alcoholic's family members. my dad is a recovering alcoholic with like 26 years sober and my step-father was an abusive alcoholic. the al-anon website has all this info about if you think al-anon would help you. here are a few of the questions they ask you to consider to see if al-anon is right for you:

did you grow up with a problem drinker?
do you constantly seek approval and affirmation?
do you fail to recognize your accomplishments?
have you had problems with your own compulsive behavior?
are you uneasy when your life is going smoothly, continually anticipating problems?
do you feel alive in the midst of crisis?
do you still feel responsible for others, as you did for the problem drinker in your life?
do you isolate yourself from other people?
do you cling to relationships because you are afraid of being alone?
do you often mistrust your own feelings and the feelings of others?

those are just a few that i was like 'OMG WERE THEY IN MY HEAD WHILE WRITING THIS LIST????'

so i'm going to be going to my first al-anon meeting soon. i keep putting it off because i'm nervous and scared and isolating myself and don't really want to go alone.

now i think i may go eat an entire bowl of (semi-)buttery popcorn and watch a movie. or nap. either way.

bad blogger. bad, bad blogger.

2011-09-25T21:37:00.000-04:00

sorry y'all. it's been a busy, busy week.

i've started a new position with the company that subcontracts me and we were training/certifying new people all week. i barely slept thursday and friday for scoring things.

ugh. thank goddess for diet coke and coconut ices.

anyway. i hope to get back on the wagon, as it were. i'm having some personal-y shit going on and have been contemplating some more serious stuff than i usually do. i've been thinking about going to al-anon to try and deal with my father and step-father's alcoholism and how i was affected. i'm also back on the diet/exercise train tomorrow because i don't have to wake up early for class for the first time in a month.

so some new things. life is changing.

why do these things exist?

2011-09-15T00:46:00.000-04:00

this is a copy of the live-facebook-status-updating i did tonight. i have deleted part of my name because i try to keep this blog semi-anonymous. so, you know, if i ever actually get a real job, my potential employers will not find this blog by googling me. and other's names and faces have been changed because, well, you know.

and this is serious - this was not for fun or anything like that. there was a motherfucking earwig in my motherfucking living room. awesome husband and my brother went to yankee stadium to see the big 4 concert (anthrax, stupid fucking megadeth, slayer, and metallica). so i was, in fact, home alone.

at this point, the damned earwig resurfaced from under the couch. and yes, i had moved my fucking sectional away from the walls - and back to where it belonged - and nearly had a coronary doing so.

victory was mine!

so i killed the damn earwig. i then got eight paper towels and a plastic bag and disposed of it.

it then occurred to me that my cats fucking FAILED because, hello, shouldn't they be chasing/hunting/killing these types of things? really?

this is only the second time in my entire life i've killed an earwig. the first time i remember seeing one, i must have been 3 or 4. i asked my mom why they were called earwigs and she said it was because they crawled into warm places like ears.

which i know now is untrue. they're called earwigs because when their wings are open, they kind of look like a human ear.

you didn't know they flew either, did you? staring to see why i'm so terrified?

anyway, even at the tender age of 3 or 4, i could think of OTHER warm places on my body that an earwig may like. and thus began my paralyzing fear of earwigs.

when i was 25, awesome husband and i had been married for a few months and were living communally with my mom and my brother (incidentally, only about four blocks from where we live now). we had the best rottweiler named nibbler. she was such a sweetie. and she helped me kill my first earwig. we were home alone - i had been in a car accident and was basically home bound and nibbler had lymphoma and was dying (i know, buzzkill) so i spoiled her rotten. we even took naps in my bed together. i saw her watching something on the kitchen floor - an earwig. we were home alone. i freaked out while she stood next to me and watched it move across the floor. nibbler stood right next to me as i grabbed a fistful of paper towels, tossed the wad on top of the earwig, and then proceeded to jump up and down on it like a fucking idiot.

i wouldn't have been able to do it without her.

but seriously, what is up with earwigs? what is their purpose? what's with the pincers? because they are scary. and what's with scorpions? why the FUCK do they need lobster claw pincers AND a stingery tail bit?? i mean, can we say OVERKILL?? and what do they do? bees help pollinate things, and spiders eat other bugs... you know, there have a purpose.

earwigs and scorpions? none that i know of. if any of my sciencey friends can find purposes for me, please share them

not that i'll hate the fucking things any less. but still.

memories

2011-09-11T21:24:00.002-04:00

ten years ago, the world changed.

i have a lot to say about this. i'm a new yorker and i remember that day like it was yesterday.

you know what else i remember? the first anniversary. i was working for a major international company and our office building had four moments of silence that morning.

during one, the printer went off. it was silent - you could have heard a pin drop - and a huge, industrial-strength printer just starts printing off a report.

and i cried at that moment, not just from sadness at all that was lost - but joy at all that was to come.

in the midst of grief, sadness, tragedy - life goes on.

reports needed to be run. they needed to be printed. were we changing the world? not so much. but it went on. i remembered that for the second anniversary, and the third one. we still observed moments of silence. in other states, in other places, september 11 is just another day at work. people remember it because of the news coverage. in new york, in dc, and in households around the world with an empty seat at the table, it's not just another day. it's a day where we look to the sky, and remember how it was just as blue and clear on that morning. it's a day where we look toward manhattan island and remember how we could see the plume of smoke for months after the attack. it's a day where we go about our lives as changed people.

remember that earthquake in dc a couple of weeks ago, how everyone on the east coast was freaked out - but no one more than dc'ers and new yorkers? that's why. when we feel buildings shake, we do not think 'earthquake'. we think 'terrorists'. all those west coast bitches who were calling us pussies? yeah.

but we go on, still. we take our shoes off at the airport without complaining, we don't love the TSA's rules but we understand them. we have seen what can happen - we have seen it with our own eyes, smelled it, witnessed the gaping hole in the skyline, the gaping hole that was in the ground. we have watched bodies pulled from the rubble covered in american flags, we have looked worriedly to the sky when we hear a low-flying plane. we have spoken to friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, who have lost someone there, rescued someone there, recovered someone there, or helped clean up the pit. we have seen the things the media won't show you, and felt the things the media cannot describe.

but we go on, still. we do what we can every day to go on, pushing the fear down and keeping our eyes on the sky, on the lookout for that stray bag that might have been left behind. we go food shopping, we work, we sleep, we love our families and life goes on.

life will never go on for some. ten years ago today, 343 FDNY lost their lives trying to save others. 23 NYPD officers died doing their duty. 37 PAPD officers were killed. cantor fitzgerald - one company - lost 658 employees.

guiliani attended 200 funerals in 2001. 98 FDNY vehicles were destroyed. 115 nations were represented by lost people in the attacks. 1,506, 124 tons of debris were removed from ground zero. i'm going to type that out: ONE MILLION, FIVE HUNDRED SIX THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR TONS

new yorkers are not as crass as we're painted to be. 36,000 pints of blood were donated in the days following the attack. 258 were used. 289 bodies were recovered intact. 19,858 body parts were found. 1,717 families have no remains from their loved ones. 1,609 people lost a partner. 3,051 children lost a parent.

it's estimated that over 400,000 new yorkers suffer from 9/11 related PTSD.

i'll repost what i posted this morning on my facebook, after i observed the digital moments of silence along with countless others.

"we remember this day every year, but really we should remember it every day. instead of hating our differences and killing others because of them, we should celebrate them and love each other. there is no god-figure that encourages killing or hatred, there is no religion that condones killing those with differing beliefs.

there is no reason the twin towers had to fall, no reason the pentagon had to have a gaping hole in the side, no reason for a patch of scorched earth in shanksville.

and if we need to find a reason for these evils, let it be this: love each other. take care of each other.

let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me."

new shooz?

2011-09-05T16:30:00.000-04:00

wasn't new shooz an 80s band? had a song called 'i can't wait'. or am i mixing them up with someone else?

anyway. i got new shoes a couple of weeks ago and VOWED that i would wear them somewhere last friday. instead of planning ahead and trying to like get a group of people together to go someplace neat i could show off my shoes, i procrastinated and asked my dad to go out to dinner with us last minute. on thursday he said 'yes'. on friday he changed his mind and was like 'i got caught up with shit at work so i can't do it tonight. tomorrow?' and i was sad.

for a minute. then i put on comfy pants (my brother was home, otherwise i would have been pantsless) and we ordered pizza. so it ended up being okay.

so saturday night i wrangled my dad into taking us out to dinner at our favorite steakhouse. we chipped in, obvs, but he had a gift certificate he was willing to share. i had a margarita and a couple of mojitos and steak and baked clams and it was delicious. as always. we took our after dinner drinks outside so dad could smoke a cigar and just chat. and i looked GOOD.

my new shoes. it's hard to see, but the hell and the platform are covered in like glitter.

awesome husband sitting outside enjoying his irish coffee

me looking AWESOME. if not a bit top heavy.

then sunday awesome husband and my brother did some yardwork while i did some homework. we also did some shopping at BJs and purchased our usual HUGE package of string cheese. i had a pedicure at a salon that was showing star wars - sadly, the pedicure was worth every cent i paid for it - only $14. i will not be going back there.

of course, i was thrilled to see that they used their autoclave. one of the last places i went to didn't. it was the second or third time i was there and i was having my manicure. and behind my manicurist were the two autoclaves. i thought it was odd that neither appeared to be on, but one didn't have a light on the front so i figured that one was on and the other was off because... well, maybe they only needed one at a time? THEN i noticed that NEITHER MACHINE WAS EVEN PLUGGED IN. and i saw two of the manicurists put their little box of tools in there and take it back out. like they were PRETENDING to sterilize shit.

so i stopped going there. anyway, i had my pedi and then i decided i needed to have mojitos. apparently EVERY liquor store in the area closes at 5pm on sundays. we finally found one place that drastically overcharged for bacardi but, whatever, i got my mojito on. i tried to make one with truvia and it wasn't quite the same. i might try again to see if i mess with the ratios it will be better.

and now it's time to go to KFC. awesome husband just decided he needs popcorn chicken and mashed potatoes. i suppose i can be talked into a biscuit or two. we're spending our labor day watching 'star wars' and drinking. good thing we've not started drinking yet so we can drive to KFC.

why do twizzlers have an expiration date?

2011-08-31T23:06:00.000-04:00

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

2011-08-25T11:02:00.000-04:00

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

2011-08-18T01:07:00.000-04:00

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

2011-08-17T20:27:00.000-04:00

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.

2011-08-11T12:51:00.000-04:00

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!

i don't usually 'review' products, but...

2011-07-27T14:02:00.000-04:00

so i haven't shampooed my hair in just under three weeks.

yup, you read that right. how's that for an attention-grabber?

about two and a half weeks ago i got my first taste of wen. i had been considering the no 'poo crusade for some time. back in florida, i tried co-washing ('washing' your hair with conditioner only) and had horrible luck with it. i have very fine hair, but i have a decent amount of it. it's not too thin - just each hair is so fine. it's naturally medium brown (the non-pink parts of my hair are my nature color) and i strip my roots every few weeks then dump the color of the month on the hair from the crown of my head.


mah hairz. pink on the top, brown everywhere else. and white, when samantha's rubbed all over me.

lathering up every day was annoying because the lather would turn bright pink and i'd watch my color swirl down the drain. so i started using dry shampoo and only washing my hair every other day. this extended my color a bit, but it was annoying because, well, my hair is fine. my scalp gets a bit oily. my hair got nasty fast. i wanted to wash every day, but getting my hair wet and then using dry shampoo didn't change anything.

i switched to the ol' standby of baby powder in the hair. it didn't cake up or weigh my hair down as much as the dry shampoo did (i'm thinking because it actually had CLAY in it. srsly.) but it was still, you know. NOT clean feeling. so i started looking into wen.

wen doesn't have shampoo. it's conditioning cleanser. no lather. a lot of reviews were like 'i can't deal with it not lathering'. you know what? I CAN'T DEAL WITH MY NASTY HAIR.

there, i said it. fine, very soft, but not very manageable i guess. flyaways. not shiny and lustrous. i used to think maybe i SHOULDN'T wash my hair. maybe all the oils is what makes the model's hair so shiny and lustrous (not so much, at least in my case). it always looks okay, but that's because i was smothering it with chemicals and sulfates that suck the color out of my hair and leave it listless and dull.

so i bit the bullet and got the wen. i got it at a major home shopping website (hey, i'm not plugging EVERYONE for free, bitches). $50ish later, i have two 6oz bottles of cleansing conditioner, 2oz bottle of replenishing spray (wtf?), and a 2oz bottle of styling creme. NOT cream. CREME.

that's some fancy shit right there.

so three weeks ago this friday, i stripped my roots and laid in some cherry bomb and hot hot pink (and got some on our carpet. but it came out - no matter what awesome husband says. IT CAME OUT). i washed with shampoo to get the lightener out.

saturday morning i pranced to the shower ready to play with my new hair toys. it said 20 pumps for my hair length.

twenty. pumps. from a 6 oz bottle? this shit's running like $2.50 an ounce, and you want me to use THAT MUCH?? the math almost made my head explode. that's like $2 a wash. my blood pressure started to rise and i figured, you know what? let's try 14 pumps. the reviews said it should feel really thick and creamy in your hair.

14 pumps did it. incidentally, i'm down to around 10 for some flavors and 16 for others, and it really seems to cover my scalp and hair well. so i massage that shit in, let it sit for 3-5 minutes, and rinse THE HELL out of my hair. you know how things are 'squeaky clean'? my hair was squeaky clean. fo' realz, yo - it was SQUEAKY in my hands. amazing.

and shine? LIKE THE SUN, BITCHES. i could NOT stop looking at my hair. we went out to dinner with my aunt, uncle, cousin, and her bf and i COULD NOT stop playing with my hair. it was so soft and silky and shiny and i was in love.

it said to wash every day to start with, because it will alter and correct the pH of your scalp/hair. i have the cucumber aloe and lavender flavors. lavender seems to cleanse better for me, but i want to try the other flavors too because I AM HOOKED.

i am a wen girl.

my hair after one week? LUSTROUS. it feels stronger. it's lush, silky, my pink is still vibrant and my mousy medium brown even looks shinier and like it came from a very expensive bottle.

after one week of washing with wen

that's my natural brown it's never looked so good.

i wanted to try all five flavors, so i went to the same shop-from-home network and ordered another kit they had that contained three 6oz bottles of the other three flavors - sweet almond mint, tea tree, and pomegranate. i love the way they smell and i think they all cleanse my hair great. the cucumber aloe seems to be the least awesome for my hair. i'm still trying to decide which are best for my hair, but they all seem to help my color.

slightly creepy photo of me taken on my macbook pro 13 days into wen. i'm not creepy, i promish.

and now, here we are at almost the three week mark. i'm still washing my hair almost every day, which is really annoying, but it's been hot. i know my hair is cleaner than it has been, and honestly? my hair is awesome enough with the wen that i can't imagine going back to shampoo. took this photo last night and i have NOT touched up my color. that is 19 day old color, manic panic mixed with special effects. anyone who's colored with semi-perm pigments like that before knows how fast that shit fades. LOOK AT MAH HAIRZ


still so pink! so vibrant! so AWESOME!

i am not using ANY extra product in my hair. i have that fancy styling CREME that i put in my hair from mid-shaft to end once in a while to help with the few flyaways i get, but seriously. no hairspray or anything. i've needed hairspray for over a month and stopped using it the day i started using wen. i love it. i love it so much i might buy it by the gallon after i decide which flavors are best for my hair. i've read reviews where women who used to get their hair cut and colored every 6 weeks because of split/dead ends and color fade who now go over TEN WEEKS between cuts and colorings. TEN WEEKS. that's two and a half months.

do you remember what happened the last time you didn't cut your hair for two and a half months? and forget about the inch-long roots, do you remember how shitty your color was?

i'm a wen girl now.

hi there

2011-07-25T17:21:00.000-04:00

hi.

how've you been?

me? okay, i guess. not really busy.

just, you know. tired. and sad. so lots of napping has gone on.

i have a whole blog post ready to go, i just need to add a couple of after pictures.

but, you know. tired. and sad.

so i really haven't been doing much of anything. except eating cookies and tarzipan.

and rum.

lots of rum.

bucketfuls actually.


it's a picture from last weekend. but still relevant. however, i have retired the bucket and now only use it for it's delicious printed recipe.

so.

i mean, my cat was in one of those collars for a while. but we took it off when he got shit on it. did i show that to you guys?


i can't stop biting my butt. well, my rump. you know how it is. right? do you?

and now he's biting his butt again. not as much, though, because i keep spraying it with nasty tasting shit.

and i got a new tattoo. but it's all peely right now so i'm not posting photos of it yet. i actually got two, one small one on my hand and a big one on my arm. i love tattoos.

so, what else... what else...

nothing, really. nothing good at least.

but i always have my family and friends. and cats. they all love me and keep me semi-sane.


we get by.

weekend update

2011-07-16T10:09:00.000-04:00

SO. i am working on multiple blog posts. one about my hair. one supersecret possible BEWBZ related. i'm also considering *finally* setting up my youtube channel, which will mostly have my cats on it.

because, seriously, what the fuck is the internet for if not laughing at cats?

no, that was NOT rhetorical. fucking answer me.

in the meantime, i'm on google+ now and it's kind of my public persona, i guess. facebook is really for people i know (or people i've known online long enough that i know they're not going to steal my identity, stalk me, or try to kill me). but i'm going to keep google+ as kind of for everyone. i think you need my email, right? stephgasblogs@gmail.com.

right? am i doing this right?

and in the meantime, two of my new favorite twitterers: @dalailama and @wilw. wil wheaton. pretty normal and very funny.

and finally, carmageddon. seriously, los angeles? SERIOUSLY?!?!? CARMAFUCKINGGEDDON?

am i the only one who has been singing def leppard's 'armageddon it' it my head all morning long?

are you there, goddess? it's me, stephanie.

2011-07-08T15:16:00.000-04:00

one of my current classes is HUM/130 - religions of the world. i was kind of stoked to take this class.

okay, REALLY stoked. i love politely discussing religion and sharing my ideas and interpretations with other open minded people. note that i said OPEN MINDED people. that may be important later in the story.

well, it's not actually a STORY per se. more just me bitching about things. and stuff.

now, my class blocks are nine weeks long and i take two classes at a time. week 1 in my religion class was 'effects of religion'. we had to talk about psychologists and philosophers and their views on religion (waste. of. time. if you ask me). i got sad and angry because i lost A LOT of points on a project because the facilitator doesn't know how to properly pose a fucking question. SUCH AS insinuates like examples. discuss some bright colors SUCH AS pink, blue, and yellow would mean discuss colors that are bright, like pink, blue, and yellow are. i could discuss whatever fucking color i wanted to. discuss some bright colors INCLUDING pink, blue, and yellow would mean discuss pink and yellow you asshole. the facilitator put SUCH AS so i discussed pink, purple, and lime green. and she only gave me credit for pink and said 'i don't think you got the point of the assignment. purple and lime green are interesting, but not what i asked for'.

um, what?

so i was all like 'such as insinuates that you offered examples, etc'. like just what i typed up there. she was all 'i'll consider it' and then gave me 28/30 instead of the original 14/30.

but still, i have an 88 in that class at that point. which will COMPLETELY FUCK my 4.0. i know, i know. a 3.8 wouldn't kill me. but if i'm going to do something, i'm going to DO IT and i want my damn 4.0.

so week 2 is indigenous peoples. which is interesting to me because christianity all but wiped out most indigenous cultures worldwide.

but don't tell christians that.

there were actually 'classmates' of mine who were like 'indigenous people believed in many gods because christian God had not yet shown Himself to them'.

ergh... what?

so that is basically how my week 2 went. slightly entertaining, very frustrating, and lots of rewriting responses to my classmates so i don't come off as hating christians (because i totes don't).

this week is week 3 and we're learning about hinduism, which is much more up my alley. i'm a bit bummed that neo-paganism isn't touched on at all, but there was mention of 'new age'. i'm desperately hoping that paganism and/or wicca isn't shoved in there as it usually is.

psychology class is much less frustrating. it's more challenging to me, and i'm enjoying it even though i'm not doing perfectly. i have like 94% in that class and am back up to 90% in religion, so if i really stick to it and try to get full credit on everything, i might eek out an A in each class.

in other news, jake can't stop biting his butt and has to wear one of those hysterical collars now. long story, expect photos though. he had a wound back when we still lived in florida that was healing and then was not healing and then was healing and is now not healing again and he picks at it and chews at it. so he's wearing a fashionable collar now that we're hoping to sign with sharpies like it was a cast in elementary school.

and finally, be prepared for the blog entry of all blog entries coming up soon. i've been saving this since last april and we are nearing completion. that ought to wet your collective whistles for a bit. trust me, it will be worth it.

hi!

2011-07-07T01:30:00.000-04:00

i'm working on being more positive. it's hard work, yo. hard work.

you know what helps? family, cats, and baseball.

jake napping on our couch

awesome husband and me on my bro's b-day

jake looking out our front window

meeeee at my in-laws

samantha on one of our cat trees

brother and sisterfromanothermister on father's day.

awesome husband and i at the melting pot for deliciousness


jake stretched out on our bed, imitating longcat

piglet hiding in one of the many boxes we've had around the house.

taylor showing you how he will take over the damn world

samantha playing

jake sitting in a box full of packing paper, tearing it bit by bit.

awesome husband and me at citi field

yay! let's go mets!

1986 world series trophy. first time i've ever seen one!

at the game


PLAY BALL!

AMERICA. FUCK YEAH.

a real blog post! OR, welcome to new york. now learn how to fucking drive.

2011-06-25T10:38:00.000-04:00

i mean, i know how to drive in new york. it's where i learned how to drive. the problem is all the other fucking new yorkers that don't know how to drive.

that statement may not make sense to you if you have not driven in new york. and by 'new york' i mean the tri-state area of new york, not 'upstate', or 'canada'* as i like to call it.

now, i have no photos of our new place yet, because i refuse to take photos while it's still all fucking filled with stupid fucking cardboard boxes and shit like that. BUT i do have photos of our last days in florida and our drive to new york.

awesome husband and me during out last dinner at orlando benihanas.

jake sleeping on a chair: doing it wrong, but cutely.

the girls - samantha and piglet - in their crate. they cuddles most of the time, and fought a bit of the time. but mostly slept or stared longingly at me, imploring me to let them out. no dice.

awesome husband driving. somewhere. hmmmmmm based on the angle of the sun, i'm going with georgia.

proof that i fail at estimating space. we ran out of space in the truck, we ran out of space in our car, and we ended up leaving some shit behind. i'm okay with it.

again, i'm going with georgia because it looks to be around noontime.

days inn, ashland VA. not bad. not great, but not bad. got a discount and the room was $47. so, you know. sadly, the jacuzzi didn't work. the cats definitely enjoyed it water-free though.

taylor scoping out the motel room.

the pool at the days inn. not sure when the last time a LIVE human swam in this pool, but the fauna it exhibited were many and varied. and frightening.

outside of ashland, va

driving around DC. because you can't drive THROUGH DC. and i got shitty photo opportunities because there was no fucking traffic. not really complaining because traffic around DC can be BRUTAL.

so. there you have it. some of our trip to new york last month. it's been five weeks since we got to our new place and it's slowly coming together. we had to buy almost all new furniture (this was planned - i used 'moving' as an excuse to get rid of all the furniture i didn't like any longer) and it's all here now. we're actually hoping to hang some curtains and pictures on the walls this weekend.

we also got our new york state driver's licenses. and those horribly ugly golden yellow license plates for my red car. yeah, that looks AWESOME. thanks, new york state.

and i'm back in school after a three week break. taking another psychology class called 'i think, therefore i am?'. seriously. and a world religions class that seems to completely discount neo-pagan religions. which is upsetting, but should make for an interesting class.

AND we bought an elliptical machine. yup. we'll see how well that works out. awesome husband lifts weights and shit like that and only did FIVE minutes on it to start. i'm hoping to start working out and losing some weight. after i shake this wonderful new york summer sinus infection/cough/cold/whatever the fuck it is. yeah. good times, good times.

*no offense to any canadians who may be reading.

still a bad blogger

2011-06-17T15:43:00.000-04:00

seriously. you know, it's like i really want to blog, but i don't have a lot to say that isn't moving-related right now. i also really want to post pictures from our trip to new york and of the new digs, but i don't want those photos to be filled with the fucking boxes that they are.

so instead, i'm posting a picture of my cat.

that's me and sammy in my new office. it's a FUCKING MESS. but you can DEAL WITH IT.

i promish, i'm working on it and will have photos and appropriate blog posts soon. but also, you can have this, courtesy of sisterfromanothermister.

click here to see cute things. i promise.

being a bad blogger

2011-06-02T23:08:00.000-04:00

yeah. i know how to be a bad blogger. i've been so busy with working and buying new furniture and shit like that. i haven't had time to do shit like this.

like blogging.

i will again soon. once we have the dining room set up, i'll be taking some photos of the new place since we all know 'photos, or it didn't happen'.

so logically, without photos of my move to new york and new house, it didn't happen. my entire move would be nullified.

obvs.

i did take photos of our trip up too, just a few. i don't think i took photos of the house before it was filled with our shit. but i have photos of my shit and the cats and all the new crap i had to spend my inheritance on to furnish my new rental house.

yup.

in other news, awesome husband works 3:30-11:30pm so i'm trying to adjust my schedule a bit. i'll probably be working until midnight most nights.

i hope i don't have to move again for quite some time. i also bought a china cabinet. from a clearance place so it's got a couple of scratches since it was a floor model. but i got it for 55% less than the list price. and it's like a couple of scratches.

it's bad enough that i bought a FUCKING CHINA CABINET. who am i, my grandmother?

but i have a china service for 8 that needs storage. and a fuckload of mikasa stemware that is sitting in boxes still.

live from new york....

2011-05-26T11:38:00.000-04:00

yup. we've been here a week now. it's been a hell of a week, too. we've done nothing but unpack, eat take out or fast food, and build furniture.

and shop for furniture. we still don't have a living room, but it should be delivered tomorrow.

my office is just about set up. i'm writing this on my new ikea desk. it's pretty big. i might take photos at some point.

the cats handled the move very well. HOWEVER jake apparently scratched his cornea and it's ulcerated and nasty and disgusting and he can't see out of it. we were here four days before i was able to introduce jake to our long-time new york vet. and i took taylor to the vet the monday before we left florida. ridiculous.

really ridiculous.

anyway, jake has a follow up tomorrow. we hope he will not permanently lose vision in that eye. the same thing happened to one of my friend's cats and he seems fine now. so i'm really hoping.

so i moved into this house sight unseen. awesome husband and my brother (and sisterfromanothermister) had seen this place but not me. it was surprising and pleasing aside from the kitchen which is WOEFULLY lacking in cabinet space. and had no pantry. we rectified that by buying a free standing pantry (at ikea, mais oui) and it fits TONS OF SHIT. we've spent more money on shit at ikea than i'd like to admit.

and we still don't have lights in most rooms. like NONE of the rooms have overhead lighting so we need lamps everywhere.

but the cats are superhappy. taylor is more active than i've seen him in years. i don't know if he's superhappy to be back with our brother or what, but he bounds up and down the hallway chasing after jake or samantha. it's very cute. except they all think that the carpets are for scratching, so we really really really really need to get a scratching post.

i already went back to work on tuesday, and awesome husband starts his new job on june 1st. we found out he'll be making more money than we originally thought, and we're REALLY happy about that lol. it will be a 3:30-11:30 shift and he'll be a shop foreman. so instead of just doing the mechanic-y things, he has to help all the other peeps in the shop. and that late shift is made up of a lot of younger guys. his manager said if he can whip those guys into shape in 60 days, he could be looking at even more money. it's a really really great opportunity - very exciting.

and i have a new position with my company, which is a pain in the ass to describe but i'm happy with it. for now.

so hopefully some other people will have moves that end up as good as mine has. good times, people, good times.

and i've already had some greek food in the past week. delicious. and happy.

ashland, va

2011-05-18T21:33:00.000-04:00

hi.

i'm in ashland, va. in a days inn. with awesome husband and four cats. all of whom are traumatized to some level.

there is also a SWEET ASS jacuzzi tub. that doesn't work.

hmph.

on the plus side, the gal at the desk said she wouldn't charge the $10 per cat 'pet fee'. and the guy that was trying to check in before i got there left behind a coupon. so a room that i originally thought would cost me a benjamin cost me $52.

so we drove like 750ish miles today from 7am to 7:40pm. stopped for gas three times, coffee once, bathrooms twice, and food twice.

there's so much more. like photos of our 10 linear feet of space on the truck MAXED OUT and all the shit we ended up leaving behind because i can't estimate space worth shit. i mean, even the room in the car. i underestimated that. A LOT. and we've had this car for like well over 5 years. and moved to florida with it twice (once for us, once for mom). so you'd think i'd have like figure it out by now.

nope.

on the plus side, no one can see the shit i have stashed in my car, like computers and televisions and shit like that. so hopefully no one will break in and try to steal anything.

my mom's in there too. yup. so i guess she's like, guarding it.

still trying to move

2011-05-16T16:18:00.000-04:00

seriously. it's like ridiculous. now our buyers want five more days to close. we've already got a truck on the way tomorrow to be loaded. we're leaving wednesday morning. i've had the utilities turned on at the new place in new york and have scheduled disconnects here in the FLA.

we sold a bunch of shit on saturday at a garage sale. what we didn't sell, we called a guy from craigslist that said he'd pick anything up.

he didn't take our couch and chair that have cat damage. fucking cats. like i care. i hate that couch. i can't wait to buy new stuff in new york.

and we bought new bedroom furniture that's still in the boxes. a GROWN UP bedroom set. with a dresser that has a mirror! and nightstands that match! OH EM GEE!

so there is some food in the fridge. i made my bestie take a bunch of it when she came over saturday night because, hello, we can't take all those lean cuisines with us.

the only room that's kind of normal still is my office because i'm working still. well, until 5pm today. then i'm off for like a week.

i'm not planning on being very active. i know, i know. you'll all miss me terribly. but the next time i blog, it may well be from new york. or from a rest stop where i'm eating fast food and trying not to kill the cats.

we'll see.

until then, keep your unit on you.

good news and why i hate most things.

2011-05-10T20:26:00.000-04:00

unless you've been following me on the twitter (@stephgas people, get on that please) you are probably unaware that shit's been coming up roses this week.

after a crappy mother's day spent fucking hating most things and crying at a commercial about quitting smoking, monday was a refreshing change.

seriously, this commercial is horrifying. and i kept seeing it on mother's day. and it kept. on. playing. and awesome husband usually makes fun of me when i get all emotional and cry at commercials (usually publix's holiday commercials. dicks) even HE didn't crack a smile after this one.

this commercial is one of the WORST THINGS i've ever seen in my life. apparently it's been around for some time and has even been written about by other people - about how fucking wrong it is.

now, i'm a former smoker. my mother died five months and five days before mother's day. this was my first mother's day without her. she died from lung cancer that had spread throughout much of her body.

and i had to keep seeing this fucking commercial.

the vodka helped, to be honest. awesome husband drank rum and coke all day mother's day in honor of mom - that was what she drank.

so after multiple crying jags, a few vodka cranberries, and some cartoons, i went to bed and dreamed about two-ton 21 (one of my hermit crabs) breaking through the screen and escaping. and coming after me. yes, seriously. i have no idea.

monday morning awesome husband and i woke up earlyish (8. we had nowhere to be). i have to work, he has to pack. at this point, we still have NO definitive answers for housing or job situations. we were supposed to hear back monday. just after 9am, awesome husband's cell rings - and it's the realtor. we have the house! the most perfect house for us. it used to be a mother-daughter, a high ranch. the second kitchen in the lower apartment is now a big laundry room. but my brother and sisterfromanothermister have the lower part which has a small living room, two bedrooms, a full bath, and the laundry room. the upstairs part has a big living room, dining room, kitchen, full bath, and three bedrooms. i've not seen it yet, but i'm told it's AWESOME and has navy carpeting.

which makes me a bit nervous. awesome husband said 'blue carpet' and i said i hate blue carpet. he said it's 'dark blue'. i said, 'navy?' and he said 'yes'. but he is a boy. and boys don't always appreciate the subtleties in shades of blue. so we'll see.

not twenty seconds after he hung up the phone, it rang again. we were celebrating and it was a number he didn't recognize. awesome husband answered it and it was a job offer. more money than he was making down here and a higher position - shop foreman. it's a great opportunity and we're superexcited about it. it's actually at a dealership he worked at about 7 years ago before we moved to florida.

so we had a good day yesterday. i finally had an address to get quotes on moving our shit to new york. now we have half a house-full of crap, us, our car, and four cats. oh, and two hermit crabs. and i didn't want to have to drive our car with the cats alone, and have awesome husband drive a rental truck because that would SUCK. so we're using the same company we used to move down here. they generally haul broadway-show type sets across country but rent out space on the tractor trailers for moving people. we used them to move from new york to florida, we used them to move mom from new york to florida, so we're excited that they'll be able to help us out again. i got my contract from them today and we're set to go. it's costing us about $500 more than renting a truck and gassing it up, but it's worth it to us because we don't have to drive alone. for 20-something hours.

and then today, i started cancelling services here in florida. the power will be shut off, the cable and internet, the phone, and the water. and thursday i'll probably call to start having everything turned on in new york.

then saturday we're having another yard sale to sell all this furniture that we're not bringing. and my bestie is coming over saturday night. and sunday we're having a few friends over. and monday i have my last day of work in florida.

then tuesday, we load that truck. and wednesday morning we're off on another adventure.

at least this one brings us back home.

one door opens, another slams shut in my fucking face

2011-05-05T08:41:00.000-04:00

okay so good news/bad news sitch. awesome husband has left me all alone (with four cats and two hermit crabs.... so not terribly alone) and gone to new york to find a house/job.

and what did he do? he joined a fucking gym. seriously. i have two weight benches and a set of those fancy adjustable dumbbells that were like $300 ON SALE and p90x and the over the door thingy to do pull ups. and he goes to new york and joins a damn gym.

yeah, that's not lasting. if he's joining a gym, he's selling all that shit. plus the gym is like a half hour drive from where we are probably going to live. so it will take him an hour round trip to drive to the place where he'll work out for an hour.

men reading this, i bet you think this makes perfect sense.

women, i don't need to say anything more.

BUT we did find the PERFECT place to live! it's actually two blocks from where we lived with my mom in new york and across the canal from where my brother lives now (doesn't that sound fancy?) it's a high ranch so the lower floor has like two bedrooms and a bathroom and a laundry room and the upper levels have living room, dining room, kitchen, three bedrooms, and another bath.

so the lower level is basically a kitchen-less apartment. perfect for my brother and sisterfromanothermister. and there's room for an office.

and a workout room. fucking awesome husband. not like he's reading this. DICK.

it's a little more than we were hoping to spend and has oil heat (sobbing) but we can make it work.

IF awesome husband finds a job this morning. we don't really anticipate a problem because good mechanics are not a dime a dozen. and awesome husband has had literally THOUSANDS of dollars of chrysler-specific training and chrysler dealers LOVE that shit.

so we're applying with the property management company today. the realtor that showed the house doesn't think we'll have a problem. i'm hoping she's right because IT IS PERFECT.

the door closing is the buyers for our house in florida. the inspection came back and the inspector is like 'there are some loose shingles, a couple of missing shingles, and some puckering shingles on the roof. so fix it and do some routine maintenance'. the buyer's agent interpreted that to 'we want you to replace the roof'. which is so not happening. we're less than two weeks from closing. so we are trying to get a roofer in here to see how much the repair/maintenance will cost and we'll offer to do that and see if they are okay with that.

legally, they have to be. in florida once an offer is accepted the buyer only has like three times to back out of the sale without losing the escrow. one is inspection, one is appraisal, and the other one i forget but it already passed. now they SKIPPED the inspection and went right to the appraisal because they thought it would appraise for less than the offer/asking price and wanted us to let them have it for that price.

yeah. not happening.

but they WAIVED their inspection contingency so they cannot use it as an excuse to back out of the purchase without penalty.

technically, my realtor tells me there are ways they can have their loan denied which would void the purchase without any penalty. and we are motivated. so we are going to try and work with it. but it's just another headache that i didn't want.

so i'm eating lots of tarzipan and playing the sims medieval until awesome husband comes home tomorrow. at the very least, until i get word that we have that house and awesome husband has a job.

that will make me happy in the pants.

why u no follow me on twitter?

2011-05-03T10:04:00.000-04:00

hahahahaha.

seriously. DO EEEEET.

follow me on the twitter. @stephgas.

what else?

notice the shiny new uptweet button and facebook share button on my blog.

use them.

because i crave more followers. i really do. it's like high school all over again. i want to be as popular as the other guys and gals on the bus with me.

i mean, i'll never be a 'the bloggess' or 'aunt motherfucking becky' or 'annah' or whatever.

but i can be a KICK ASS steph gas.

and blogger, WHY U NO BON ME?

seriously. have you SEEN the blogs of note recently? am i not as good, if not better, than most of them?

i think i am. but then again, i'm a narcissistic whore.

in other news, PACKING and FINDING A PLACE TO LIVE dominate my life. i keep taking sims medieval breaks, but it's still pretty fucking ridiculous. especially since i am not in new york, but in florida. and i need to find a place to live in new york.

yup.

anyway. fucking moving. yeah.

having a house husband

2011-04-27T22:30:00.000-04:00

at least for a while. awesome husband's last day of work was monday. so he's home with me. all day. and he's not good at being home all day.

which means he's all cabin feverish. and he's been home for two days. all he wants to do is play video games and sleep.

we finally are having the appraisal done tomorrow. and we're still supposedly on track for closing on may 18th. the 18th.

EIGHTEENTH.

which is, what, 20 days away? to figure out where we're moving to, to pack up the house, transport all four cats and all our shit and ourselves up there.

twenty days to not have a nervous breakdown. to figure out what furniture we're not taking. to have a garage sale. to have a going-away party. to meet up with all the friends one last time.

twenty days for awesome husband to find a job. eek.

i'd be lying if i said i could sleep without tarzipan. i'm eating it like it was, well, marzipan? does that make sense?

i keep thinking about stupid things. we have to eat all the frozen food stuff because we can't bring it 1200+ miles in a car. we should stop buying non-perishables so we don't have to transport them. should i really buy another 20-pound bag of cat food? will they really eat it all in 20 days?

that's a pound a day. that seems like a lot. i mean, there are four of them. but a pound a day? hmmmm.

and how is all of our shit even GETTING to new york? we have to drive our 'crossover' (hyundai santa fe) up to new york with four cats in it. (i'm terrifically excited about that. not.) and we have to have our shit in a truck or something to get to new york. i love road tripping with awesome husband. not that we do it often, but we've made the drive a couple of times now, as well as a few 5 hour drives places. and i love driving around in the car with him, rocking out to some good music (over the choruses of cat screaming) and chatting. last time we moved down here (and when mom moved down here) we used a company that transported broadway sets around the country. their drivers would also use part of their trailer for like people's shit. you pay by the linear foot, with a ten-foot minimum.

i don't think we have that much stuff this time.

so i'm thinking one of those 'storage units' like pods would be an option. i think we'll have enough to fill that. they pick it up and drop it off. awesome husband and i can drive with the cats.

and i'd love to be able to price it. BUT I CANNOT BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A PLACE TO PUT IN 'DESTINATION'.

*deep breaths*

otherwise, life is going well. i'm rocking the fuck out of school with my 4.0 gpa. i'm rocking out at work and being awesome for 20+ hours a week. i'm staying out of mom's room as much as possible because it still smells like her.

which, by the way, i'm calling shenanigans on. i mean, we've donated just about all of her clothes. and her shoes. i've washed her bedclothes at least seven times since she died. how the fuck does that room still smell like mom???

lame. completely lame.

you know what else is lame? facebook. i had put mom's facebook page in 'memorial status' so it's like there but we don't get those reminders like 'you should reconnect with Dead Mom' or whatever. which is useful, right? but what is NOT USEFUL is that i cannot log in and change her profile picture. the photo there now is one of her that we took on the tram at epcot. she looks cute and mom-like. but i want to change it.

i want to change it to a photo of her urn.

you read that shit right. my mom would totes get a kick out of that. i want it to be a photo of her urn from the funeral, where it was all pretty and surrounded by flowers and shit.

seriously. mom would love that.

another thing i'm sure i'll be hating on soon is mother's day. fuck it. fuck it right in it's stupid ass*.

on a positive note, i'll be in new york for my brother's b-day. and for father's day. so i can celebrate the only parent i have left. even if he is mostly a pseudo-parent. or sperm donor who gives me shit and buys me steak once in a while, even as he tells me he has a lunch date with a 23 year old 'dancer'.

could this post have made LESS SENSE??

awesome husband and i are hoping to go see disney cats and have lunch out tomorrow. like a date? kind of cute. what is not kind of cute? samuel l. jackson narrating disney cats. i can't really comment on it because stephaniec my self-proclaimed canadian sisterfromanothermister already did here and i'll mess it up. except to shout MOTHER FUCKING CATS ON A MOTHER FUCKING PLAIN.

get it?

*i'm assuming that mother's day does not like it up the butt. if it does, then it might enjoy that act. and that would not be cool because the whole point of fucking mother's day up the ass, to me, is that mother's day would not enjoy it. so if mother's day likes butt play, then i'll have to think up something else.

it certainly is a good friday.

2011-04-22T12:29:00.000-04:00

i mean, it's THE good friday for you fun loving christians out there. time to celebrate poor jesus getting beat the fuck up, hung on a cross to die, and buried under a huge fucking rock.

PARTY.

at least you get all those chocolate bunnies and starburst jelly beans on sunday. not sure why, but there you go.

i remember dying eggs with my mom and brother for easter. my mom liked hard boiled eggs (i hate them). she'd let me help peel them sometimes, though.

and being the horrifically imaginative child that i was, i'd take all those different colored cracked egg shells and glue them to paper to make a picture.

yup.

and my mom would ooh and ahh over them, and then probably distract me with a matchbox car or the cat or something and throw it out. because no one in their right mind keeps TRASH glued to a piece of paper for years. even if their kid made it.

i mean, egg shells? really? good job, steph.

idiot.

anyway. it's not a BAD friday, i suppose. i have to work for a couple of hours, do some civil rightsy project for my 'cultural diversity' class (which i call my ethnics class. haha), and then one of my besties is coming to spend the night. probably because she really really likes me and awesome husband.

probably not because she likes awesome husband working on her car for free.

we'll go with choice 'a'. (just kidding, bestie. you know i'm kiddin' ya.)

and then i have to work for two hours tomorrow morning while bestie sleeps in. and then who knows what we'll do. as long as it doesn't involve cleaning my house or prostitution.

other than that, i'm pretty open. and i do have to go pick up my copy of 'mortal kombat' at game stop. which is right near lane bryant. which i have a $25 gift cheque to. yes, the spell it 'cheque'. i guess it makes it fancier than saying 'here's a $25 COUPON that you can use for anything'. or a gift CERTIFICATE saying 'since you keep spending so much money on bras in our store, here's something to show our appreciation'. it's a 'cheque'. and only valid until may 1. know when i got it? three days after i went to lane bryant to stock up on underwear. which is 5 for $29.

guess i'm getting more panties.

in other news, i can't sleep through the night. because i hate waiting for shit i have no control over. our potential buyers want to close may 18th. MAY FUCKING EIGHTEENTH. that gives us less than a month to pack up and find a place to live in new york. 1200 miles away from where i am now. monday is awesome husband's last day of work, so he'll kick packing's ass. but finding a place to live? and technically they aren't GUARANTEED to buy the house????

??????????

i mean, they waived their right to inspection. because they're eager to get in the house, supposedly. and they put $1K in escrow and they have to pay for the appraisal. so if they walk away, they're out that money. but we have to wait for the lender/underwriter to get off their asses and order the appraisal. that's where i'm freaking out. because they can still walk away after the appraisal. so it's like, do i just assume it's all going to go through and find a place to live with that may 18th date in mind, or do i wait longer and see what happens? and what if i get us that place to live for may 18th and shit falls through?? then we'll still have to move to new york and pay for that place AND pay for the house down here until it sells.

which is why i'm on a steady diet of tarzipan and chocolate.

and tonight is not only bestie night, but chili's night. where we go to drink margaritas and beer and have something to eat. it's our friday night thing. i'm finding that my tolerance for tequila seems to be slipping.

or my girls at the bar are slipping more alcohol into those presidente margaritas.

i knew those big tips would pay off.

ALSO i did a bit of light housekeeping on my blog page. see over there?? to the left <~~~~~ near the top. i've connected my tweetiness to the blog! FANTASTIC! and you can uptweet my ass or share me on the facebook. DO IT. you know you want to. i'll send you all delicious margaritay thoughts tonight if you do.

ALSO ALSO. i lost a reader. wish there was like a rule that when you unfollow someone, you have to say why. like, did my bewbz offend them? am i not funny enough? not skinny enough? just that much more full of The Awesome than they are?

the world may never know.

do over

2011-04-16T22:01:00.000-04:00

okay so apparently some people are calling shenanigans on my bewbz pictures that i posted as part of accepting my nice rack blog award. now, in my defense i went through all the photos i have on my computer, which constist of basically every picture i've taken since 2004.

which means photos of my wedding, my honeymoon, my cats, disney, and two major car accidents that i was in.

and not as much bewbage as you'd expect. and the bewbz that were in my records were actually, well, bewbz. like, fully naked bewbz from when i took photos of my nipple rings. back when i had them. because they migrated.

yes. shutup.

so i was like, i guess i'll have to take new pictures that kind of showcase the bewbz a bit more. also in my defense, i don't have a fully anonymous blog so my friends and family members read this. including (possibly) my brother. who hasn't ever seen my bewbz and neither of us has any desire to change that.

of course, almost everyone else that i know has seen my bewbz. numerous times.

ANYWAY.

here.

my bewbz in a ghostbuster shirt. you know you jealous.

more bewbz. BEWBZ i tell you.

that's right, bitches. these are my BEWBZ. werd 2 yo momma.

offers and bewbz. not related.

2011-04-15T11:40:00.000-04:00

first the offers part. we have had two offers on the house, both for MORE than the asking price. i am still perplexed by the real estate market and buying houses. however, none of that matters because i have a great agent and am probably going to closing within 35 days. we're accepting an offer today.

we listed the house monday. LAST monday. monday april 11. today is friday april 15.

yup. i'm just that awesome.

the best offer came from someone who saw the house last night. it was a last minute showing and i'd already started dinner (empanadas). so the smell of my delicious, non-authentic, columbian inspired emapandas was wafting through the house.

and they called my agent two hours later to inform her of the offer.

lesson: always have fresh flowers out AND empanads in your oven if you want to sell your house in a week.

obviously.

so i got this award from torystellar at can u relate?. and it's the nice rack award.

i totes deserve this.

but it dictates that i pass it on to others as well as show a photo of my rack. now, as much as i love my bewbz, the fact is that most of the photos i have of them are not suitable for posting online.

not because i'm ashamed or don't want you to see my migrated nipple rings. seriously. but because blogger would be all 'ZOMG IT'S A PLUS SIZE PRON BLOG' and shut my shit down.

yes, i actually do have a photo of one of my nipple rings migrating. it's interesting, and sad because i loved having my nipples pierced. once we're settled in new york again, i'm going to go a piercer recommended by sisterfromanothermister who thinks i should be able to repierce them. fingers crossed.

anyway. i went through the archives to find photos showcasing my bewbz while not bordering on porn. have fun.

these are my bewbz circa 2008. they still look basically the same.


bewbz circa 2009, after i chopped all my hair off. that mark is from awesome husband beating me. okay, no it's not. it's probably from a cat stepping on me. i have sensitive skin.

my bewbz with my brother, sisterfromanothermister, and awesome husband june 2010.

my bewbz in new york, march 2011.

yeah, i know. pretty lame. i feel like i should find an excuse to dress up and take tit pics (especially for stephaniec. since she asked so nicely). i'm sure i'll fine more bewbz pics that i'll share. i'm practically OBLIGATED to share them now that i've gotten this nice rack award.

and now i get to pass it to some other bloggers. i've decided to give it to people whose bewbz i wouldn't mind seeing. not in a creepy stalker way. i promise.

ergh. that was awkward.

anyway, here goes.

-stephanie c at seriously?? reeeally? seriously? because i should take my chances now before she's all married.
-nicki at the loaded handbag because i don't totally have a crush on her.
-sarah p at naked cupcakes because i feel that the title of her blog alone warrants me asking her to show me her, well, cupcakes.
-the barreness at, um, the barreness, because i need to know if they're better than nigella lawson's. it could be imperative to my ~~fantasies~~ research.

and i should like get back into actual blogging, and not this half assed phoning-it-in kind of crap. one day. i promise. but it might not be for a while. you might have to put up with packing and rental-house-hunting bullshit for now.

i hate packing. i hate moving.

2011-04-11T13:29:00.000-04:00

i hate packing and moving. although i'm excited to get back to new york to be with my family. but let me back up a bit here.

so saturday morning i had a realtor from an investmenty company come in. i was hoping that she'd be all like 'we'll totes offer you ALMOST what you owe on your house on the spot' and was sorely disappointed. about $21K disappointed. HOWEVER. she works with this investmenty company and is an actual realtor. the good stuff is that the investmenty company she works with, while they will not buy my house, will share the listing with their entire database of over TWENTY THOUSAND investors who are looking for something just like my house. she then proceeded to take out the dreaded market comparison make me cry analysis which says not only is my house worth 50% less than what we paid for it less than five years ago, but houses at the price i was hoping to list at are sitting on the market for over two hundred days. or forever, which do you prefer? because it's the same thing to me. she then tells me that these houses are only selling once they hit about $5-10K less than what i wanted to ask. and shows me the houses at that price point that are comparable to mine and priced accordingly.

dude, these houses are selling in under 25 days. some in SEVEN DAYS. one week from listing, boom they are sold. so it's not all about location, it's about pricing.

and our superrealtor is coming tonight to take photos of our lovely abode and list it. and we may be having an open house/garage sale this weekend. superrealtor told me that many real estate peeps have gotten away from that and she thinks it sucks. people apparently used to have combo open house/garage sales ALL THE TIME. so they were selling their shit and their house at the same time!

genius!

and we have A LOT of shit to sell. of course, i'm secretly hoping that superrealtor will list the house tonight and have a gazillion offers by tomorrow. not likely i know. but maybe by like thursday? so we can just ixnay the open house and sell this bad boy? it's not a lot to ask, right?

awesome husband has put in his two weeks notice at work. i know, totes putting the cart before the horse but he's fed up with his job, and we actually aren't hurting for money at this second. so i figured he's worth more to me at home packing. so i can keep working and doing the school thing and what not. i gave superrealtor the moving deadline of june 1st and she seems to think that will be no problem.

yay!

so awesome husband will work til the end of this month and have some time to pack and move and find a job in new york. which we also have some leads on.

i fucking hate packing and moving and the stress. i hate having to go through my mom's stuff to put it in boxes and bring it to new york. i hate having to do all this shit still. but at least it looks like it might go fairly smooth.

ALSO! i gots me another award, and it requires a picture of my BEWBZ. i know stephaniec will be thrilled with the idea of seeing my BEWBZ. i'm under a lot of pressure to make sure i get the right picture chosen, so it may be a couple of days until i post info about this newest award presented to me from semi true torystellar.

eating tarzipan instead of doing adult shit

2011-04-07T10:33:00.000-04:00

yup. i'm eating tarzipan and blogging instead of doing things i have to do. some days, i just wake up and hate just about everything for no reason. i don't know what's wrong, specifically. just everything is wrong. here's a list of things that are wrong, that make me angry, or that i hate today:

the fact that the home investment company we emailed on sunday still hasn't called us back. they guaranteed a written offer on our home in 48 hours. which was up. yesterdayish. and if they're not going to make us an offer (i can't refuse, lol had to get that in there) then i want to call a proper realtor and list the house asap.
the fact that the stupid fraternal order of police keeps calling me. i know you want money from me, i get it. but don't fucking call early in the morning when i'm full of anger and still in bed. because then i have to run across the house in my underwear to get the phone, just to see it's you. when i was hoping it was more like #1.
the fact that i haven't finished our taxes yet. and we're getting money back. but finishing our taxes means i have to finish mom's taxes. and she owes money. and i don't really think i should have to pay it. also, it just seems so final. i don't want to do her taxes. even though they're basically already done and i just have to review them and pull the trigger to e-file. whatever.
the fact that i've started packing and don't feel like finishing. there is A LOT to pack. but we are not bringing a lot of shit with us. like, quite a bit of the furniture is getting trashed/sold before we leave. and our dishes. because they keep chipping and i'm not transporting them to new york. especially because i found a service for 8 that my mother had in a box somewhere. i thought my brother had those dishes. apparently not.
the fact that i have to work today. it's not that i dislike my job, per se. but i don't love all of the people i work with. and i just don't fucking want to do it today. i want to go lie in bed most of the day and watch 'twilight'. or 'alice in wonderland'. or 'venture bros.'
the fact that i'm missing spring in new york. i know, it's really barely springish there at this point. but it's one of my favorite times of year. and all fall i was psyching myself up that i wouldn't have to wait another year to live through spring in new york first hand. and then all that shit happened (you know, the mom dying thing? that) and now i've procrastinated long enough that the house isn't sold and we're still here.
and i also hate that procrastination. i don't want to do it. whatever it is, i don't want to do it now. i'll do it later. later never comes. it's not like i NEVER procrastinated before, but now it's like constant. if it doesn't have to do with drinking, starbucks, or shopping, i will put it off until later. could i have cleaned the house this morning? i sure could have, but i'll wait until tomorrow. could i be doing the fucking taxes now? sure could, but i'm not. could i be doing my homework now? yup, but i'll do it later.

now i'm just waiting for the tarzipan to kick in. hopefully it's soon.

i spoke to my doctor a couple of months ago about using/abusing the tarzipan. i mean, it's generic klonopin, and it might be the lowest dosage pill available, but it's still fucking klonopin. it's not baby aspirin. and i told him that i was using it four or five days a week, and i was worried that i might become like addicted to it. he basically laughed and was like, dude - it's the smallest dose of klonopin known to mankind. you're a big girl, you'll be fine.

but i've been thinking about it. i'm a recovering addict basically. i haven't used illicit drugs in nine and a half years. generally, people do drugs to escape - they want to feel what the drugs make them feel, not what they are actually feeling. isn't that what the tarzipan is doing for me? i take it so i don't have these anxious, panicky, scared, angry, hateful, debilitating feelings. and my doctor prescribes it for that use.

but still - where is the line that i might cross that means i'm no longer USING the tarzipan but ABUSING it? and the scary part is when i ask myself 'how much do i care about that line?' the answer is 'not at all'.

a story, part four

2011-04-05T18:34:00.000-04:00

part four really starts at day three of the journey. monday, november 22nd is 'day three', for all intents and purposes. late saturday mom went to the er, early sunday we got the first diagnosis of cancer, and monday morning had me waking up at revbobdad's after having slept in the same bed my mom was staying in. i packed up some underwear and tee shirts for her (in case they let her put them on) and asked my dad to drop me off at the hospital on his way to work. he obliged and i landed in icu with mom around 8:30am.

of course, not normal visiting hours. yours truly has devised ways of getting around those annoying visiting hours. they involve 'but i'm visiting from florida', 'but i can't come later', 'but the nurse said i could', etc. my technique with icu nurses is to be super cute and super nice and smiley and superhelpful. mom needs a pee? i'll grab the bedpan and ring when she's done. more ice water? i got it. lights on or off? done. after the icu nurses have seen me assist with 'their' job a few times, i mention that i really would like to spend time with mom while she's here, and i have my (book, computer, ipod, whatever) to keep me busy while she's resting. i usually do this while handing someone water or being otherwise helpful. icu nurse usually tells me 'oh, sure - just tell them up front that nurse fillinmynamehere said you can come back'. it's worked every time i have had a parent in the icu so far.

yes, it's happened more than once. revbobdad had a few bouts with ketoacidosis that landed him in the hospital/icu a few times now. yup.

anyway. so i set up camp in mom's little icu cubby and tried to get her to eat. she ate a little bit but was kind of weak. which is understandable because she hadn''t actually eaten anything useful since saturday morning. i got her some ginger ale and turned on the television. and sat with her all day. she was talkative and jokey some of the time, and resting the rest of the time. i'm sure this is the day they did the biopsy and some other tests, but i can't be sure without looking at the HUGE PILE of medical forms and bills that i'm steadfastly ignoring. my aunt came to visit that night and was like 'stay at our place, use our extra car' and i was all yes, please. so i had a car for a few days while mom was in the hospital.

monday was the day, if i remember correctly, where we heard the other organs were involved. originally we had lung and brain. monday we added liver and spleen to the list. no one was even mentioning chemotherapy, just radiation to keep the swelling in the brain down.

so, nothing for the lung mass? the actual cancery bits?

nope. and no one would give us a time frame. this is when we (when i say we, i really mean mom, my brother, and i - awesome husband and revbob dad figure into a lot of this too, but so much of this was really me, mom, and my bro) realized that the family vacation might not be an option. but we'd have the holidays - mom would stay in new york, awesome husband and i would dump the house and just settle the mortgage, and we could be together for the time we had left. we were kind of guesstimating a couple of months, three or four maybe.

tuesday i set off a bit later, and it was more of the same. except this day we had some visits from social workers. one who helped mom and i set up her healthcare proxy (me). one who started the paperwork for her medicaid application. we had long conversations with the worker who helped us set up the proxy. sharon. she was very nice, very smart, and cursed in front of me. i appreciate a professional who can say 'shit' in the right context and know it won't offend me. it makes me feel like i can be more like myself. my mom's best friend from childhood came by and made mom eat some cake. which was nice. mom was still not eating a lot, mostly sipping water and eating bits off the trays of food they brought in. but she was still 'mom'.

we knew we didn't have long. we were talking about being able to take her out for thanksgiving. her friend was talking about taking mom to her house to care for her because she would need help - real help, not the kind of help i could give her. mom's brother and sister offered rooms to sleep in, cars to drive mom to appointments, whatever we needed until we could all be together again.

my one aunt even offered to let our loud, shouty, obnoxious cat taylor come stay with her so mom could see him one last time. i would have liked that. i think taylor would have too.

we had that blow on monday, that the cancer had spread. tuesday was the first time anyone offered a stage - stage IV. lung cancer, stage IV, also attacking her brain, liver, and spleen. and gods knew what else at that point. we revamped our ideas - a few weeks, right? it was almost thanksgiving, we'd have till the holidays. the new year. we'd spend it together in new york, as a family.

yeah, our lives change every day. they change depending on choices we make, paths we take. saturday we had a mom that was freaking out because she couldn't see right. by tuesday night we had a mom in icu with stage IV lung cancer that had spread to multiple sites and was not treatable.

things were about to change again.

and on top of that, it's sunday.

2011-04-03T17:58:00.000-04:00

i'm sorry i've been such a bad blog buddy. really. it's just some days, i don't know what to blog about. some days, i think about blogging and then i chase a cat into mom's room and am overwhelmed with her smell. then i forget what i was going to blog about. i had SO MANY ideas on the cruise that i wanted to blog about. stuff about nassau, royal caribbean, the lady that i decided i wanted to adopt as my new grandma, the multitude of scantily clad spring breakers (thank you, who ever invented the bikini). all the rum i drank, dark rum mixed with ice and fruit juices and other rums with a bit more rum on top. the amount of money i spent. ergh, no i don't really want to blog about that one lol. we did spend more than i wanted to on an excursion, but it was really fun and we might do it our own way next time around. because i really don't think there is much point to nassau. it's like queens, but with more islanders and less greeks and jews. and they're much more open about offering you pot or coke.

anyway.

i woke up early today thanks to the fucking cats. they cannot stop fighting and/or waking me up for no apparent reason. it's okay though, awesome husband and i had plans today. of course, plans never go according to plan. we were supposed to wake up, have breakfast, do some organizing/cleaning/packing, play some video games, have some dinner, and watch some movies.

breakfast was had. i made bacon (not nearly as good as my father's bacon). well, i didn't MAKE it. i cooked it. it was okay. and there were eggs to be had. then awesome husband was on garage-cleaning duty and i was going to start packing up some of the tchotchkes we have around this house.

*editor's note: blogger is trying to tell me that 'tchotchkes' is misspelled. blogger is wrong.

mom had lots of little, breakable things that i've been saving shoe boxes to pack in. so i packed up some of her glass paperweights, her little breakable thingamajigs, and some of my belleek.

*editor's note AGAIN. blogger says 'thingamajigs' is correctly spelled. fucking blogger.

so i packed up all these teensy things in shoe boxes, then packed the shoe boxes in one bigger box. and then i made awesome husband help go through some of the totes and boxes he found in the garage. and then i wanted to go through some of mom's clothes - might as well get rid of what's left. especially since i listed some of the cooler stuff on ebay TWO TIMES to donate 90% of the proceeds to the american cancer society and only three things sold. out of like 18. damn it. so the rest goes to charity. and now i'm not sure i should bother listing any of her shoes. so i'm keeping two pairs that are meaningful until i get to new york so my brother and i can decide what to do with them.

anyway.

and there was a mets game on. that i was watching while we were packing shit up. and awesome husband gets all 'i guess i won't be able to play video games' and i got all pissy like WHAT THE FUCK I'M WATCHING A METS GAME NOW IT WILL NOT BE ON ALL FUCKING DAY. i didn't say that. i just thought it. but really, it was like 2pm and we were still pack-clean-organizing and no WAY i'm doing that shit while he plays fucking red dead redemption. i don't care how excited he is about it.

so finally we're done and we jump in the shower, and the mets game is almost over. we watch the mets kick the marlin's collective fishy asses and then awesome husband boots up the xbox in the middle of a conversation.

most women in a long-term relationship probably all made the same noise just now. it's remarkably like an 'nuh UH'. or 'no way'. or 'whatthefuckiswrongwithhim'.

we were having a discussion about when he wants to put his notice in at work. we've settled on june 1st as our goal date to be in new york. i've gotten some reports from realtors on what the house is worth, we've discussed getting a small storage unit to keep the boxes in, we've discussed what's going and what's not, and we paid some guy named manuel to rip a bush out of the ground on the side of the house. we're hoping to have a realtor in by friday to get the house listed. so we're in the middle of 'when can i put my two weeks notice in?' and 'but then we lose medical and i need my pristiq-tarzipan cocktail' and 'are we even going to bother going to new york for easter?' and nothing has been settled.

nothing.

and he turns on the fucking xbox. so i kind of lost it.

well, i got mopey and all 'whatever, play your game' and awesome husband is like 'you can play yours too' (i got the sims medieval and while i'm excited about it, i still haven't even loaded it on my mac). and i was all WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION and he just didn't fucking get it and i got tired, like really tired to my bones. so i went to lie down for a nap, figuring he'd play his stupid fucking game.

and of course, THAT'S when he decides that the game can wait, after i've already EXHAUSTED myself emotionally by packing up mom's shit and trying to decide my life and arguing with him. he comes in all apologetic and adorable and carrying the macbook pro like 'let's see if mom's name was removed from the mortgage, at least' because we can't really do ANYTHING until that happens (which it has). and then he starts making sense and talking like a grown up and instead of being happy that it's getting settled and we're talking about it, i get ANGRIER because why the fuck are you doing this NOW? what about an hour ago when i was OBVIOUSLY pissed about you playing your game? instead of wasting that hour of me whining and bitching and trying not to cry and getting headachy while you stare blankly at me, silently enough that i'm not sure you're even fucking listening to me, WHY didn't we have this convo an hour ago? because now it's even later, and we've still not solved anything, and you're still not playing your stupidfuckinggame.

so then he started playing his game. and i started this blog post. and he was like 'why don't i set a time on how long i can play, so i don't play too long and we can watch a movie together' and i'm thinking, 'gosh, that's thoughtful, he's not so bad after all' and he says, yeah, i'll only play for AN HOUR AND A HALF.

yeah, that's not too long at all.

then awesome husband got all squirrely like 'why don't you load the sims on your mac and play?' because he just can't understand how i'm not like ZOMGIHAVEANEWGAMEIHAVETOPLAYITRIGHTAWAYFORHOURSONEND. like he is.

anyway. so i spent the day smelling my dead mom while going through her shit and being pissed at awesome husband. and all i have to show for it is three boxes, a raging headache, and this blog post.

sorry for being a downer, guys. hey, at least you have house selling blogs to look forward to! hopefully i end up with lots of interesting people looking at the house that i can make fun of with you.

croozin' 2011

2011-03-30T22:01:00.000-04:00

omg we had way too much fun. i'm tempted to just post all the photos and let it go. but i guess i owe you all more than that.

royal caribbean was great. i guess the ship seemed a bit classier than carnival, but not by much. it may have been because there were 700+ college spring breakers on board. or whatever. but it was fun. coco cay was great, but we missed freeport. freeport was one of awesome husband and my favorite stops on our last cruise. also, carvnival is generally a bit cheaper. so i think for a short 4 day cruise like this, i'd probably go carnival in the future. however, the newer royal caribbean ships are AMAZING and i wouldn't hesitate to book one of those.

we are actually planning another cruise next fall to scatter some of mom's ashes between the keys and freeport, where we scattered my stepfather in 2008. not sure what line we'll take, but i know it will be fun.

okay, so let's get some photos going!

in our cabin - we brought on rum runners and cranberry juice to mix a few of our own drinks in the room

the view from our cabin - deck 9 'obstructed view' - not too obstructed at all

looking out at the open water over my feet. i'm wearing awesome pink argyle socks.

awesome husband and i at dinner the first night

relaxing view from deck 12

our view on coco cay - we scoped out a spot near a bush and were pretty much left alone


i brought my camera in the water and took a picture of the beach - sooo prettyyyy

my tootsies in the clear water - SO not like beaches in new york

awesome husband in the water. yeah, i hit that. regularly.

the inlet at coco cay where the tender boats dock - so many shades of blue/green

awesome husband and me on formal night. i FINALLY got to wear my party dress!

we're so cute. and i'm so pale.

on the top of fort fincastle where you can see like ALL of nassau island


any excuse to get dressed up. we're HAWT

so we had lots of fun. although i'm kind of bummed that i saved the dress i did for the last night, since they didn't do any professionally staged photos on the last night. because i looked AMAZING. and my tits were hanging out. which i think contributed to my amazinglookingness.

it's funny: i feel like i should have long, involved stories for you. i don't really. we had a great time. we drank more than we should have. the term 'four-day-long hangover' was used more than once. we saw a comedy show. we were seated at a table for six at dinner but there were only four of us. our tablemates were from boston. red sox fans. and we didn't have ANY PROBLEMS with them. and this is the second set of great people we met on a cruise that happened to contain a red sox fan. so awesome husband has decided that asshole boston fans go to disney, and cool boston fans go on cruises.

i was able to watch harry potter 7a (my name for 'harry potter and the deathly hallows part one') one time from start to finish. and i watched bits and pieces of it a few times. cruise ships don't have regular television - they have like specially designated cruise stations. for instance, 'eye on royal caribbean' is cbs shows (the eye, get it?) like how i met your mother and craig ferguson. and the style network is limited to like five different shows. that they show over and over again. cnn/cnn espanol is normal cnn. espn is some strange conglomerate of espns. and there are usually a few movie channels. carnival had like three or four movies per cruise. royal caribbean had A LOT - harry potter 7a, burlesque, something with matt damon, crazy all the time, like four other ones. nice for relaxing time. we also caught some baseball (thankfully - i can't WAIT FOR BASEBALL). we saw a yankees and a mets spring training game. we lost some money in the casino, but we made some back. i would guesstimate we 'lost' about $30. well. maybe $40.

we saw the buildings on bay street that were decimated in the valentine's day fire on nassau. we saw the new straw market building being built. we saw drunken college girls being carried/groped out of senor frogs. sadly, we were not offered drugs once. not that we would ACCEPT. but generally i get offered drugs like every ten minutes on nassau.

ahem.

now we've been back to work and the real world for a couple of days. i know this is a long, photo filled, bandwith heavy post so we'll talk about the cats and life, the universe, and everything next time.

i'm less important than i think i am

2011-03-25T18:07:00.000-04:00

i bet you've all been DYING to know where i've been. worrying about me and shit. because i think i'm more important than i am.

well, i was on a cruise. i got all paranoidy 'i shouldn't post that i'm leaving my house on a public blog even though i don't use my full real name while blogging' because someone might break into my house and steal/kill/eat my cats.

so we're just back today. awesome husband and i left monday morning and went to the bahamas with royal caribbean. it was our first time on royal caribbean - i've only sailed with carnival in the past.

expect quite a few pictures and details within the next day or two. awesome husband and i are still nursing our four-day hangovers (and might continue drinking tonight, just for shits and giggles). i'm anticipating some kind of liver- and kidney-friendly fast saturday through monday.

hope everyone has a great weekend! i'll get right on uploading my photos and writing a supergreat post for y'all.

nervy b's are fun, yo.

2011-03-18T09:26:00.000-04:00

but not really. having a little nervous breakdown (or nervy b as i so eloquently call it) is not full of The Awesome. it's actually pretty fucking lame.

it's even worse when you do so during a meeting filled with your coworkers. since you hate the shit you see going on, and when your 'supervisor' says something like 'don't use AIM for bitching about others or gossiping, just to stay in touch with each other' you get offended because A) AIM is not owned, operated, or maintained by my 'job' and i'll use it how i damn well please - EVEN during work hours, B) you work from home and this is the ONLY place you have to gossip and bitch and keep in touch with your coworkers - no scheduled breaks for coffee or smokes, no clandestine meetings in the bathroom to bitch about your other coworkers, nothing like that - and C) i work for MYSELF. i own my own business. i am subcontracted by another company - NOT ARISE - to do my job. why should ARISE be fucking policing my shit? if we're getting our jobs done satisfactorily as far as the client is concerned, why can't we vent to each other?

so some of us *ahem, me, ahem* open our fool mouths during the meeting and voice this opinion. some of us are heavily medicated and don't speak well in public anymore (hence, all my typing and blogging and chatting - i can read it and make sure it 'sounds' right instead of tripping over my damn words all the time and sounding like a fucking idiot). some of us explain how we feel and get a little emotional.

and then we have a call with our 'supervisor'. who basically tells us off. tells us to keep our opinions to ourselves. that some other coworkers were complaining that our AIM chat was a bit negative, and they didn't want to participate. and honestly? if he had said that first, i would have been okay.

but no.

he initiates a phone call with me and tells me to KEEP MY OPINIONS TO MYSELF. basically tells me that he did me a FAVOR by letting me voice my opinion during our meeting, that i should contact him directly with issues like that. hello? I HAVE. YOU NEVER EMAILED ME BACK.

so i got very, very upset. i spent about 7 hours crying, took 1.5 tarzipan total and STILL kept crying and freaking out, and it's colored my entire week. i had a pretty good birthday monday, had a sad morning tuesday, all this shit happened tuesday afternoon, i was off wednesday so i spent the day hating life and going to sephora, and back to work yesterday.

i showed up, logged in, did my job, ignored almost all of my coworkers, didn't 'participate' in our AIM chat, and then left to take <jake to the vet.

and i'll do the same today. and tomorrow. and then we'll see what happens. because i have some time off to step away from the situation and see what i can handle.

it's really annoying being an 'adult' and not being able to function because i'm so sick. i don't know how other people function. i don't know how many pills i have to take and how many times i have to go through this and how many jobs i have to quit in embarrassment.

being crazy permeates every aspect of my life. and i'm kind of over it. but how do i GET over IT?

yesterday

2011-03-15T09:43:00.000-04:00

was my birthday. i did the corporate taxes, i started doing my mom's taxes (yes, they expect a dead woman to pay taxes - thanks, government!), worked for a few hours, and went to benhinana's. where i had four mai tais, slipped on the fucking tile floor in my new shoes (with very new, very slippery heels - must remember to scuff shoes before wearing out), and had my first spicy tuna roll.

and loved it. but i put a bit too much wasabi on one piece. and cleared out my sinuses something fierce.

i also had green tea ice cream. which was really really really good. and i ate A LOT of shrimp. and apparently have some kind of onion hangover. i can still taste the onions. i think i'm getting too old for onions.

at 31, i think i'm too old for lots of things now. i'm probably too old for skinny jeans and 4.5" heels. i might be too old for rockin' cherry bomb red hair (or atomic pink, or hi-octane orange hair). i could be too old for double nostril piercings, two lip piercings, and stretching my ears (at a 4g right now, contemplating the jump to 2 with fear). i'm too old to be going for my first associate's degree. i might be too old to love my chemical romance as much as i do, or listen to pop music. i could be too old to have (and love) hermit crabs and hamsters (which i am no longer allowed to have). i'm probably too old to watch almost exclusively cartoons (with some ghost hunters, deadliest catch, mythbusters, and news mixed in).

but at 31, i think i'm a bit too young to have high blood pressure. i might be too young to have to worry about drastic lifestyle changes. i could be too young to be falling asleep at 10pm. i'm probably too young to be thinking about retirement savings (but you should start early, fyi. really). i'm too young to be selling a house. i keep getting told by my doctors that i'm too young for a hysterectomy and too young for menopause (damn them).

i also think i'm too young to have had to plan my mother's funeral. i might be too young to have to go through all her things and pack them up. i could be a bit too young to handle all the responsibility of tying up loose ends, worrying about whether i got them all. i'm probably too young to wonder whether or not i carried out her final wishes the way she'd have liked. i might be too young to be planning to scatter her ashes at her childhood home (still owned by family) or planning a cruise to scatter some of her ashes at sea (like we did with my step-father).

i know that i'm too young to have celebrated a birthday without my mom.

it was my first birthday without her. yesterday was the 101st day without my mom. 2,424 hours that she's not been with us, except for the remains of her physical body. i had only 30 birthdays where my mom would say 'happy birthday!' in the morning, or call me to say it, or give me a card, or a hug, or a present. and i'll never get those again.

and for possibly the first time since she died, i'm angry. i'm fucking angry.

i can't pack up her room because it still smells like her. and i didn't get a hug for my birthday.

i'm so fucking angry.

disappointed.

2011-03-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

yes. i'm disappointed. ONE of you entered my superfantastic giveaway.

yandie is the only one awesome enough to have donated to that worthy cause - and is the winner of a rule 42, inc custom original. yandie, congratulations and check here to see a recap of what you can choose from. and the rest of you can go there and hopefully feel shame for not being as awesome as yandie.

yandie is awesome in many ways. she's an awesome blogger here. she's canadian, eh. and a leo. so it's obvious that not only is she great, but she's WINNING.

yes, charlie sheen reference. i'm totes in the loop about that.

so i had a quick four-day vacay to new york for my dad's birthday. my brother and i took him to our fave steakhouse for dinner. i had three delicious margaritas and two bailey's on the rocks. and almost hit two different waiters on three occasions. we were a table of ten - my brother, sisterfromanothermister, my aunt and uncle, cousin and her boyf, and my twin half sisters. dad talked me into sharing a porterhouse for two with him, which is a HUGE EFFING STEAK of fury. it's like a 36 ounce steak or something ridiculous. deliciously ridiculous.

AND THEN i got molested in the bathroom. my aunt and i headed to the little girl's room to have a wee since we'd drank way more than we should have. i had washed my hands and was waiting for her when the door opened into me (my fault, i was totes blocking it). and i lead with my boobs. and the woman who walked in shouted 'holy boobs!' and asked me how i did that. i told her a push up bra. then she started poking me in the tits.

i love my life sometimes.

i also ate more diner food than should be legal, drank too much, slept too little, spent too much money, and gained three pounds.

like i care.

so. congrats to yandie, go follow her and her awesomeness. and be sure that you're following my awesomeness or i might sic hand banana on you. and remember, rape is almost always NOT funny. but once in a while, it is.

asking you for money

2011-03-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

not for me. but for new zealand. christchurch was FUCKED UP by the earthquake and one bloggess reader had an ingenious way to try and get some help...

i blame the earthquake - the bloggess

please read there. do it. DO IT.

now. if that story has made you giggle or made you cry a bit, go here.

donate to new zealand red cross

don't think. just do. grab a major credit card and go. the minimum donation is $5.

that's it. $5. that's all i'm asking. i know that many of you might not have extra money for things like trips or good vodka or sheeps. but right now, you have a roof over your head (i'm presuming) and a computer or hand-held device (i know that MUST be true because you're reading this).

so, skip a latte this week. buy the skyy or absolute this week (or sobieski, my personal fave economy vodka right now). order in chinese intead of going out for dinner one night. save that $5 and send it to new zealand.

i gave $20. it's not a lot, but it's something. and i'm challenging EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU to go here and fucking give them $5. if you have it, give $20 like i did. i have 64 followers, and lots of lurkers. if you - you reading this right now - give $5, that could potentially add up to hundreds of dollars donated from my readers and blog buddies.

as i posted on jenny's blog - karma is a bitch unless YOU are the one PUTTING THE GOOD OUT THERE.

go put $5 worth of good out there for the kiwis. and let me know by leaving me a comment with what you gave. everyone who gives at least $5 will be entered into a drawing to win a limited edition, one of a kind, something awesome!

no, seriously. i'll raffle off one of my custom made bags or cases from my other business. which i won't pimp here.

you'll have a choice of a purse/tote bag or a laptop case.

you'll get to choose ONLY ONE. so donate your $5, post what you donated and your receipt number, and i'll have a grand post with photos of me drawing a name out of a hat or something and one of you will win your choice of AWESOME one of a kind things that i made with my own two hands.

plus, you'll be doing something good. so get to it people! you have until midnight on sunday 03/06/2011 and i'll draw a winner on like tuesday or wednesday next week.

eh

2011-02-23T12:47:00.000-05:00

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

2011-02-16T10:25:00.000-05:00

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?

2011-02-14T11:15:00.000-05:00

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?

2011-02-07T23:03:00.000-05:00

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

2011-02-01T21:54:00.000-05:00

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.

a story, part three

2011-01-31T21:28:00.000-05:00

awesome husband and i were snuggled in bed, visions of venture bros. dancing in our heads. we were both kind of drunk. i tend to sleep shirtless to let the girls run wild and free. also: because i hate that tight, clothesy feeling.

i know, i'm crazy. you should know that by now too.

so awesome husband and i were spooning, a couple of cats on the bed, warm and snuggly. i was half awake, in that state of coming in and out of wakefulness and listening to the venture bros. with half an ear. only a few hours had passed since we convinced mom to go to the emergency room, and my brother had updated me at around 8:30 letting me know that they'd gotten through triage. i think there was a text or two about a cat scan or xray.

we had gone to be around 11pm. at 12:38am that sunday, november 21, my brother called me again.

four hours. just about four hours had passed since mom went through triage.

four hours.

i know i sound repetitive. but, seriously - four hours.

my cell rang and it was my brother. i picked it up and he just blurts out 'mom has cancer'. i was stunned and asked him to repeat himself. 'mom has fucking cancer' he said. i turned on my bedside lamp and sat up. i asked where and he said her lungs and brain. i then asked him if i could call him back in a minute. i hung up the phone and turned to awesome husband, who had woken up and was looking at me.

i don't remember what i said. i just remember crying and screaming and holding awesome husband. i do remember the warmth from our bare chests, my breasts smushed into his ribcage. i think i remember it because under the warmth, i could feel my heart breaking. it felt like my lungs were collapsing into themselves and a hole was being opened in my chest.

awesome husband and i clung to each other on the bed, crying, for a few moments. i remember my hands scrabbling on his shoulders, like i literally couldn't hold on. i remember yelling out, grabbing awesome husband like my life depended on it.

this was already the start of the grieving process for us, i'm sure of it.

i called my brother back for more details, what was happening now, how was mom, where was she, what were we doing. he informed me that they were moving her to icu. intensive care.

not good.

i told him i'd be there as soon as i could. this is where planning steph gas emerged (i'm not convinced she's ever gone back to wherever she emerged from). i was booting up my laptop before i hit 'end call'. we were suddenly wide awake. just about 1am i'm online and looking for flights, finding one for only $89 that day around noon. it wouldn't let me fucking buy it. i called one of my friends who came through with a credit card over the phone at 1am on a sunday. i have great friends. my dad called me around 2:30 after dropping off my brother and sisterfromanothermister once they left the hospital. it's the strangest conversation i ever had with my dad. he told me my mother seemed resigned when they told her she had cancer. we figure that maybe it's shock, maybe she's just not sure how to act yet.

awesome husband and i tried to go back to sleep. we put venture bros. on and cuddle with each other and the cats and tried to sleep. sleep eluded us for most of the morning. we spent a lot of the early morning hours staring at each other, staring at the television, staring at the ceiling. we finally started nodding off for a bit around 5:30am. once 8am rolled around, we gave up trying and i started packing. awesome husband drove me to the airport and kissed me goodbye.

i landed at jfk sunday around 3pm. my brother and sisterfromanothermister picked me up and we went straight to the hospital. my mom was in icu, hooked up to machines to monitor her heart rate and oxygen levels, an iv drip, and had those annoying oxygen tubes in her nose. but she was still 'mom'. as she saw me walk in with my brother and sisterfromanothermister, she started crying. then she got mad at me because i'd be missing classes.

of course, i didn't. my facilitators were really supportive and since the hospital had wifi, i was able to keep up with all of my schoolwork while i was up in new york.

we stayed at the hospital longer than we should have, spending time with mom. i learned that mom had a large mass in her lung and numerous lesions on her brain. that afternoon, one of the doctors stopped by and used the term metastasized. up until that point, we figured mom would be kept comfortable (we knew she wouldn't do the chemo thing) and we'd fight this bastard as best we could. once that evil fucking word was uttered, i realized it would be a matter keeping mom comfortable and enjoying what time we had left together - the holidays were coming up, and we'd definitely be able to fit one more family vacation in. no one was comfortable giving us a time frame yet - they had to biopsy the mass and determine what kind of cancer it was.

we left mom in the icu to rest and got taco bell for dinner. we talked about what we might be able to do for mom. we discussed who had to do what, who would call her job, how long i'd be staying. we talked about how we were going to fight this, how mom would stay in new york because we felt she'd get better care and all of the family is up there. how awesome husband and i would just dump the house and get to new york as soon as possible so we could all be together.

november 21st was a day my life changed forever. what i didn't realize, what none of us realized, was that it was only going to get worse. every day our lives change, i know this. but that week, every day changed our lives drastically.

happy bloggiversary to me!

2011-01-26T22:28:00.000-05:00

it appears that, unbeknownst to me, my six month bloggiversary passed recently.

not sure why this matters, but i know the barreness celebrated hers recently too. so i want in on that.

in other news, samantha jumped off my shoulder and missed the couch. or missed the floor by catching her hind leg on the couch. and now has torn ligaments around her babeh kitteh kneecap :/ she's getting anti-inflammatory medication for now, and in about two weeks if it's not healed, she might need surgery :( :( :(

what else, what else... oh, i'm sure i'll get around to that next post in the tale of my life changing, as it were. but i've also started my next block of classes in school, intro to psych and critical thinking. and i received my grades from my last two classes, eng/102 and computer information - both 'A's. which means i'm running a cool 4.0 at this point. i'm hoping to keep it there. i know, it seems ridiculous to strive for perfection or near-perfection, but if you don't aim for the stars, what's the point?

holy fuck, i can't believe i just wrote that.

also also, i'm on day like two? three? of a 'lifestyle change' (not diet). when i went to the doctor for my cold, he pointed out that my blood pressure was up. there could be numerous reasons: i was anxious being at the doctor's office. i had been taking cough medicine. pristiq CAN affect blood pressure. and there is no way in HELL that i'm giving up my delicious, square, pinkish happy pill. so, i figured i should like work out and eat better and lose some weight or what not. and i got big girl yoga!! dvd just came in the mail today. i can't really get 'regular' yoga, because there's no place to put my tits during some poses. seriously. this dvd is yoga like modified for overweight and obese people, and i'm actually really superexcited about it. i'm absolutely sure you'll hear all about it.

until then, keep your unit on you.

a break from our reguarly scheduled melancholy

2011-01-23T21:22:00.000-05:00

i was getting ready to write/post part three, which will probably be the most depressing thing yet. sorry. but it will be.

instead, you're getting a treat.

if you've read my blog for any amount of time, you might be familiar with the fact that i don't want kids. and neither does awesome husband. since my mother's death, i think some of us (pointed look towards awesome husband) have thought maybe they'd want to change their mind. some of us may have been feeling like they need to share some extra love. some of us might have been feeling like they wanted something of their own to love.

so awesome husband and i were running some errands today. he wanted to pick up s dumbbell set, i wanted to get chipotle before i start my new ~~stupid fucking diet~~ lifestyle tomorrow. there's a petco near chipotle, and we needed cat food so i was like 'let's stop there and buy some fucking cat food'.

like most weekends, they had a local rescue operation set up there adopting cats out. we always stop and look, cooing at the teensy kittens and trying to coax the untrusting adults out of the corners of cages. we argue about getting an orange cat, or a special needs cat, or a polydactyl cat. and we walk away to complete our shopping.

like most weekends, we stopped and looked at the beautiful long haired siblings who were white with black splotches and white with grey splotches. we poked at the little long haired tabby who was hiding under her mat. we called to the teenaged orange cat who steadfastly ignored us.

then awesome husband got to the last cage. he called me over. there were two tiny tabbys in this cage, one with lighter tan markings and one that almost looked like he was wearing a mask. we looked at them. we spoke to the foster mom. awesome husband wanted to hold one. i liked the lighter colored one, but awesome husband pointed to the one with the mask-like markings. they put him in my arms and he melted onto my chest.

oh.

then i handed the kitten to awesome husband. now, he has always loved animals but never had cats growing up. i tried to turn him into a cat person with my kittehs. he always said he didn't want another cat, three was enough, hell TWO was enough for him. but as i handed this kitten to awesome husband, and he looked down at this cat, well...

suddenly, he thought three cats was NOT enough.

our new tiny babeh kitteh

that's awesome husband's hand on the kitteh. he weighs like four pounds.

i think i may have finally turned him into a cat person.

a story, part two

2011-01-21T23:07:00.000-05:00

for a couple of weeks before leaving for new york, mom had been having a bit of a problem with her vision. she said it was like a small smudge on her eye, this one blurry greyish spot. but she could move her head or tilt it and see around it, those were her words. "i can see around it". she said she'd go to the eye doctor in new york, it was probably just stress.

mom was getting what appeared to be panic attacks. she was really nervous about starting the new job sometimes. she'd get a bit out of breath and get this spot of pain in her back. i'd help her calm down, we'd breathe together (since i'm practically the queen of panic attacks) and it would pass. she even said she could tell when she was getting upset - that spot in her upper back would start to hurt. it was probably just stress.

now we know better. it was cancer, cancer everywhere. in her lung, causing the pain in her back and shortness of breath. in her brain, causing the vision spot that would eventually result in a total loss of vision - less than a month after we had this conversation.

a fucking month.

mom's new job in new york started november 15th, so we booked her ticket the 13th. on the 12th a couple of friends came by to say goodbye and wish her luck. she went to bed early and we dropped her off at the airport. i spent the day with a good friend and then at epcot, hoarding all the bunratty meade that was left at the food & wine festival.

mom started her job on the 15th. everyone seemed nice. i spoke to her monday and tuesday. she hated the bus - hated taking it. hated the walk. we discussed alternatives. she was tired though - we had short conversations. on the 17th she went to the eye doctor - like we had discussed. my brother and sisterfromanothermister took her. the eye doctor kept her there forever, finally telling her to get an mri asap. mom was hysterical. we tried to be calm and to keep her calm. i talked to her on the 18th and mom seemed better. there wasn't anything that we could do now - just have to suck it up and get the mri. she was worried because she didn't have insurance, wanted to wait 22 more days for it to kick in. we wouldn't let her. i didn't talk to her on the 19th, that friday.

i got in touch with her saturday the 20th. she didn't pick up her phone, didn't call me back. finally i got an email from her saying 'call me now'. so i did.

mom was hysterical. she had fallen getting off the bus friday night. she couldn't see to dial the phone. she was afraid to cross the street because she couldn't see the cars. the difference from 7pm thursday night to 4pm saturday afternoon was terrifying. i consulted with my brother and awesome husband. i asked mom what she wanted to do. she said she wouldn't make a decision - she'd do whatever we told her to. i think she was scared: 56, re-entering the job market, sleeping on your ex-husband's couch, taking the bus to work - starting over. and now this?

"what do you want me to do?" mom kept asking me. she was scared: mom didn't have insurance yet. how would we pay for it? "it's not like they make you write a check on your way out of the ER, mom" i told her. "we'll do what we have to do - we would rather lose the house and have you".

we tried to call my dad, who was out on official revbobdad business. sisterfromanothermister got wind of what was going on through text and was immediately granted an early release from work. she and my brother ended up getting to my dad's the same time dad did, and they all trooped off to the emergency room together. by the time they got on the way, it was after 7:30pm. awesome husband and i tucked into some drinks and got on youtube to watch funny videos. nothing to do but wait it out, right? we figured worst case scenario, we had caught a stroke in time. awesome husband's mother had a minor stroke and had similar vision issues right before it happened. best case scenario, mom was super stressed out and it was manifesting physically. either way - we'd know. mom would know. she'd know what it was and how to take care of it and that alone would help her feel better.

around 8:30 i got an update from my brother: they had gone through triage, he went in with mom. he asked if i knew she had been spotting - i had, and was glad she mentioned it to the triage nurse. mom had gone through menopause like 7 years before (and i hope to whatever gods are out there that i have as easy of a time as she did with menopause) so the spotting thing was kind of strange. we joked about it before she left - "your uterus is probably just flushing the dust out" i told her. she agreed.

but her vitals were fine. everything was fine... except she couldn't fucking see enough to type or use the phone or walk across the street. i told my brother to keep me informed and let me know.

i think i got a text somewhere about an xray? cat scan? something like that. i was unperturbed - that's par for the course if mom's having trouble seeing. we had a few more drinks, and around 11:00 we went to bed. i put on venture brothers season 4. there's nothing on television late night saturday. adult swim goes all japanime.

it hasn't left the dvd player in my bedroom since.

less than two hours later, my life was about to change forever. i had no idea, punching awesome husband in the arm and telling him to roll the fuck over and stop snoring. fast forwarding through the first episode on venture bros. season 4 because i always stayed up for that one and fell asleep during the second. it's like every moment of that night ended up being etched into my memory. i mean, youtube. that fucking bed intruder song? the guys who did that have a whole load of songs like that. we watched most of them. and got sucked into the youtube vortex where you keep clicking and clicking and drinking and drinking. i was dirnking pineapple smirnoff ice. sounds horrible, i know, but it's like candy, i can't help it. like crack candy.

this was probably the last night i was 'steph gas'. i am, by nature, a planner. but all i do now is plan, make lists in my head, look at the sorted piles of mom-related things. it's like i have this picture: here you are, fat and happy, drinking horrible drinks and laughing at youtube vidoes with awesome husband. here you are, enjoying a stupid, simple moment of your life, snuggling with awesome husband on the couch singing along to the fucking bed intruder song. here you are, visions of moving to new york dancing in your head. already started holiday shopping. going to wake up a bit earlier than normal tomorrow to go see harry potter 7a. thinking about going to olive garden afterwards for their soup and salad lunch.

here you are, living your life the way you've been living it. trying to go according to a loose plan. drinking on a saturday night, getting ready for the holidays - the last ones you'll spend in florida - and planning your move back to new york.

here you are, you are here.

until the fucking map gets torn out of your hand.

...to be continued.

a story, part one

2011-01-20T00:43:00.000-05:00

i know what parents must feel like when their kids leave home to be 'adults'. i know, it sounds silly. my high school guidance counselor always did say mom and i had this role reversal thing going on. but after my step dad died in 2003, my mom tried hard to maintain. she woke up, she went to work, she ate pepperoni and peanuts for dinner.

yes.

so we started going over every night after work, awesome husband and i, to cook dinner. mom wasn't ready to leave the comfort of her bedroom. i would lie on my step dad's side of the bed next to mom, watching wheel of fortune and smoking cigarettes. awesome husband would sit in a chair next to the bed while i made dinner. mom and i ate on the bed, he ate on his lap in that chair.

mind you, we had an entire house. there were a table and chairs downstairs. we ate dinner in her bedroom.

mom went to california to visit her sister and awesome husband and i moved in. we switched all the rooms around, surprised her when she came home. for mother's day, we bought a new fridge because i needed more freezer room. and the fridge in the kitchen was from like 1972. we were all together on the upper level of the house: awesome husband and i, my brother, my mom, our bedrooms all lined up like a proper family. we took care of each other.

we took care of my mom.

six months after we moved in, awesome husband and i finally got married. my father and mother walked in together. a good time was had by all (i'd like to think). i invited dad over for dinners, he'd invite mom out with us when we went out. we were a not a 'normal' or 'proper' family by any fucking stretch of the imagination.

but we were a family.

after a couple of car accidents that rendered me unable to work outside of the home, my mother losing her job, everything just changing - we picked up and moved to florida. our family was broken again, but it was our doing this time - we were growing up, becoming 'adults'. learning to live on our own. my brother and dad in new york, mom, me, and awesome husband in florida. my mom decided to sell her house in new york. my brother went off to grow up and become a brooklyn hipster who listens to better music than you - no, don't bother telling us what your new favorite pocket band is. he. listens. to. better. music. than. you. - and stop eating meat.

mom moved to florida so we could continue on our communal living adventure, we bought a house with a pool and a two car garage....

... and then mom decided to unfurl her wings and fly to california.

and it was one of the hardest years of my life. i mean, we had fun without mom. playing poker, drinking, naked pool parties, jello shots... good times, good memories. but i was just escaping. i started working from home for extra money. i thought about using again and was afraid when i was prescribed painkillers for a really bad bladder infection. i thought about not drinking anymore. i thought about killing myself. i thought about my mom. i thought about how after years of not having her because of my step father, after having him take her away from me, i finally had her back and i needed her. i remember just the thought - the stray, errant thought - of my mom dying would send me into a spiral of fear and shaking and terror. literal terror. i could not even contemplate the thought of life without my mom. surely, i would just kill myself because i couldn't live without her. i tried to be 'grown up' and not let her know how bad it was. that i slept 14 hours a day. that i didn't shower most days unless awesome husband made me. that i cried for her. i was 27 years old and crying for my mother.

through an odd string of events, my mom ended up coming home. we had her room ready for her, painted the color she picked out ("i don't remember it being so pink" she said). of course, she reorganized it immediately. she lamented the fact that she'd never been on a cruise before and booked one for us - just my mom and i. we scattered my step father's ashes off the ship on the way home from the bahamas. it was the only time my mother and i were totally alone for an extended period of time, and i loved it. we settled back into our communal living. mom worked from home with me. we went to new york for holidays and visits.

my mom and brother didn't talk on the phone too much. they both told me separately that talking just reminded them how much they missed each other. they missed each other terribly. i missed my brother terribly. he's my best friend. i know, it sounds strange. but he is absolutely my best friend. he always has been and always will be. i missed my ridiculous, diabetic dad and wanted to take care of him. awesome husband's parents (and grandmother, who's 90) weren't getting any younger. we had to keep flying up for graduations, holidays...

my mom didn't love working from home, but the job market in central florida is super lame. we started talking about returning to new york. we worked out some numbers. we looked at some options. we decided to move back to new york. and mom decided to look for a 'real' job first, then we'd sell the house and follow her up. she'd stay with my dad (24 years after their divorce, they were great friends) for a few weeks and then her and my brother would get a place together month to month. once awesome husband and i sold the house, we'd move up and get a house together. the way it is supposed to be.

the way it was supposed to be.

my mom went up to new york for a couple of interviews and was offered a job right up her alley: travel insurance. she spent 30+ years working in the health insurance industry and her most recent jobs had been in the travel/hospitality industry. i helped her choose appropriate clothes and shoes to pack. she took the two biggest suitcases we had. i helped her pack up her laptop and ipod shuffle. printed out all the bus schedules she'd need to get to and from work. told her how to sucker dad into dropping her off in the morning so she only had to get the bus home. we discussed options, outfits, the future, everything. she was nervous and excited. i was mostly excited - a new chapter for us all.

...to be continued

little things

2011-01-14T22:51:00.000-05:00

i don't know how to grieve.

back it up, though. my first funeral was two months before my sixth birthday. i was five years old. i was in kindergarten. i DO know what it's like to grieve as a child.

everyone throws around the phrase 'loss of innocence'. i hate that phrase. i think it's so stupid, so trite. that somehow a child, an innocent, loses their innocence when something bad or 'grown up' happens to them. as adults, are we not still innocent to some ways of the world, of people? innocent to others, to ourselves?

a funeral is a decidedly 'grown up' thing. being interrupted while playing with your matchbox cars on the dining room floor, having your mom and dad tell you that your favorite uncle is up in heaven now with god - the simplest explanation, stupid and trite itself. the whole scene screams out 'childish' as opposed to 'grown up'.

is this where i 'lost' my innocence?

when i was four years old, dragging a chair from the dining room table across the dining room, across the living room, to the front door so i could undo the chain lock my mother installed. four in the morning, five in the morning, six in the morning . dragging the chair over to let my dad in, haggard and unwashed, probably not even hung over but still drunk. i'd watch him shave, tie his shoes. (he still puts on his shoes the same way, it makes me feel like a child watching him put his shoes on) dad would grab me in a hug, give me a smacking kiss, and be out that same door on his way to work while my mom was still in bed.

is this where my 'innocence' went?

my father started breaking promises to me early in life. we went to california for christmas without him. my friends had dads that went on vacation with them. some of my friends didn't have dads in the picture at all. at five years old, i thought every family was different and this is how mine was - me, my mom, my brother, and my dad. other kid's dads didn't take them to aa meetings at the church and then to the fair across the parking lot. other kid's dads didn't sneak them into the bathroom to shave off their beard and shave the trimmings to surprise mom while she was outside tending to the rosebush. other kid's dads were home every night for dinner, never missed a fraggle rock, didn't come home in the wee hours of the morning smelling like that delicious mix of scotch and cigarettes.

was i ever 'innocent'? not in the way that people speak of 'losing their innocence', i don't think. but i grieved as a child. i fought through the stages of grief rather quickly:

uncle tom isn't dead, i just saw him three days ago at grandma's house.
what do you mean? you guys are stupid! i'm going to throw my matchbox cars at you!
take me to grandma's house, i'll show you that uncle tom is still there.
sadness for days, a sadness that i couldn't describe at five.
acceptance: going to the funeral, throwing a red carnation down to the casket in the ground.

generally, people go through the stages over a long period of time. i don't remember struggling with it like that. was it my youthful resilience? was it my parent's openness and willingness to explain?

i don't know. but i do know that death has never meant to me what it means to others. when you don't want grandma or uncle tom or your dog nibbler to die, it's selfish. you want to keep them around for you. you never think that they might be better off dead.

sounds horrible, right? and i don't just mean a horrible john cusack movie (because, hello, it wasn't horrible). this all made sense to me while watching my grandfather die. he was so sick for so long, battling on. i saw him cry, asking for more morphine. i watched grandpa discuss things with my dad and uncle like he knew he was dying. my mom told me that grandpa discussed it with her while she was visiting him alone. i remember grandpa telling me about the purple carrots that were dancing across the wall, some quite menacingly, and he explained to me that it was the drugs, the morphine, the chemicals that they were pumping into his body to keep him comfortable while dying.

and i remember asking, praying, hoping that he would just die. as much as i loved him and wanted to hear him tell me another stupid story for the hundredth time, as much as i wanted to get another computer-generated birthday card that he made himself (crafted by the great ernesto, it would say on the back), i wanted him to be GRANDPA again. he would never be grandpa again.

i was angry when he died. i was angry because the hospital called us to get there soon, it didn't look good. i was living with my dad at the time, and he had to take a fucking shower before we could leave. my grandpa passed away while dad was washing his hair. i was thrilled that grandpa's fight was over, that he wasn't going to be sad or angry or in pain anymore.

i didn't need to grieve.

flash forward ten and a half years. what the fuck am i supposed to do now? my mother didn't suffer. she wasn't languishing in a hospital room with emphysema and morphine drips for months before she died. we were at fucking disney in october - three fucking months ago. three months ago i was at disney with my mom. three fucking months ago, my brother and sisterfromanothermister and awesome husband and my mom were at harry potterville. we went to breakfast at chef mickeys. two months ago my mom went to new york for a job interview - a job that she ended up getting. two months ago we were discussing putting the house up for sale, finally moving back to new york to be with everyone. mom would only have to live with my dad for a couple of months, then her and my brother would get a place. we'd sell the house down here and meet up this spring and we'd all be together like a family again.

fifty four days ago, my world changed forever. fuck, it sounds so horrible. so useless. our world changes forever every fucking day. we make ridiculous choices that change everything all the time. damn it. i hate fucking saying things like that. i hate it. i hate it.

fifty four days ago, everything changed. isn't it funny how i count the day we found out about the cancer and not the day she died? did i grieve then? had we already given up, or were we resigned for the outcome? fifty four days. i guess that's where this part of the journey starts. it's like there was life, then life with mom's cancer, and then life after mom.

fifty four days ago. how long will it take me to share the stories? how important are they? what do i need to do to care?

why should i care.

i am no longer innocent.

missing

2011-01-13T21:38:00.000-05:00

i went to the doctor today. i've been sick for eleven days. and my medication won't be ready at the pharmacy until tomorrow.

sometimes i feel like many illnesses have a psychosomatic element to them. i usually start feeling better as soon as i know what's wrong and i have medication for it.

when i got home from the doctor today, i felt worse. my temperature was 96.4 degrees. i am still coughing at least as much - if not more - than i was earlier today. and when awesome husband came home and looked at me, he told me i looked really sick.

thanks.

but seriously, this has probably been one of the worst weeks since my life changed forever. i mean, our lives change forever every day, with every decision we make.

but november 21st will always be a date i remember now. it was barely november 21st. it was 12:38am when my cell phone rang.

i don't know if it is because of my cold, or my craziness, or my lack of eating tarzipan. i don't know if it is because of the holiday season being over, or knowing a friend is moving far away to make a new life for herself, or i'm really really really superhomesick. and no, florida is not my home. i don't know if it is because i gained twenty pounds back, or i don't want to cook anymore, or i'm sick of taylor peeing on things.

i really miss my mom.

she had already been in new york for a week when it all happened. sometimes i want to pick up the phone and call her in new york, let her know what's going on. more often that i care to admit.

when we were in new york for the holidays, i wanted to pick up the phone and call her in florida, see how the cats were doing and make sure she was eating more than cheezey poofs and pepperoni for dinner.

and i look at the pile of paperwork on my sewing table, sorted into stacks: things to take care of, things taken care of, notes to write, thank you cards to send, death certificates to send in.

and i look towards her room: my favorite sweater of hers on the desk, a box of paperwork on the bed, her opal ring on the dresser, piglet curled up on her pillow.

and i look at the bar where i used to keep my laptop when i wasn't using it, and instead i see a beautiful rock salt urn, rich pink shot through with dark mauve and off white.

i have to keep reminding myself not to buy ginger ale because there's no one at home to drink it.

i really miss my mom today.

i gots me another award.

2011-01-11T21:03:00.000-05:00

i'm totes popular, yo. another blog award?? yay! from nicki over at the loaded handbag. it's an award about stylin'.

stylin' and profilin'

obvs i deserve it. not sure why. i'm not terrifically stylish. i like to think i have my own ridiculous style. like, i just ordered some really neat like knitted tights. they're like flowers and stuff. and i ordered a litle denim skirt to wear with them. and a new belt.

i told awesome husband i was going to start dressing like a hipster. he said he'd leave me.

anyway. i should probably pass this blog award on. i want to give it to the barreness, but i know nicki already got her. i'd like to give it to becky at steam me up kid because pickles and worm porn are ALWAYS stylish. and i suppose lastly i want to give it up to god. because, you know, without god, none of us would be here.

but truthishly, life has been full of the suck recently. i have pills, which are nice. but i've had the flu for like a week and a half and i'm afraid to eat tarzipan with cold medicine. and i wake up during the night even with nyquil. and my nose is all ouchy and raw from all the nose blowing. and i kind of want to take my nose rings out for a while, but if i sleep with them out they holes might start closing up and that's just another issue. and i want to move back to new york NOW so if you know anyone who wants to buy a house eight miles from animal kindgom let me know. i mean, seriously. 14.4 miles as the crow flies between my house and cinderella's castle.

seriously, expect more dark and sad and annoying and boring posts soon. i keep thinking that i want to blog about politics. or the westboro baptist church. or my cats. or my new computer. or my mom dying. but in reality, i'm kind of hitting a wall with the blogging. it's like i was out of it for so long (really only a few weeks) while my mom was sick and shit, and with all the traveling i've been doing.

i'll get back, i promish. until then, why don't you all give me a topic to blog about. maybe i'll pick like, i don't know, five and set up a poll or something and let you all vote on which one i'll blog about and the person who gives me the winning idea will get a prize? sound interesting?

yes. so seriously - give me ideas for blog posts. whatever you want. i'll figure out the specifics of the poll and contest, but leave your entry idea in the comment section and we'll get on with it.

another one?

2011-01-05T14:39:00.000-05:00

i was about to start writing a new blog. i gots me another award, yo. from semi true torystellar over at can u relate?.

but then i got distracted by itunes. i'm streaming krock 2. if you ever lived in the new york area, you'll remember how great krock was. until it turned into z100. well, krock 2 online is like krock used to be, minus some of the nirvana and add some emo. fun.

however, i got horribly distracted by 'doll parts' by hole.

it's over now, so i can continue with my life. my new awared from torystellar is the irresistibly sweet blog award. i think she might have consumed copious amounts of vodka before bestowing it on me, because i am not 'irresistibly sweet'. but i never look a blog-awarding horse in the mouth.

i'm supposed to list five guilty pleasures and pass it on to three more. i'll pass it on first. i shall bestow this honorable blog award to...

-stephc over at seriously??... reeeally?..... seriously? because i love her canadian ways.
-nicki at the loaded handbag because i love her photos. even though i can't believe she'd come to florida without visiting the mouse.
-kristine who does wait in the van because she's crazy. and sweet. and did i mention crazy?

now. five guilty pleasures.

this is hard. because i don't really have 'guilty' anything. no remorse, no regret. and the things i do feel guilty about aren't pleasurable.

but i guess i can try.. let's see... what might i be embarrased for you all to know... er....

um....

hmmmmmmm.....

well. i like kesha. oh, i mean ke$ha. i like lots of pop music. i also like gangsta rap, yo.

i love twilight. yes, the stupid vampire books. i really like them. like, i own them all and have seen all the movies. and i guess it's a bit embarrassing. but not really. maybe a bit.

margaritas from chili's. i know they're not the best, but i love the presidente margaritas at chili's. i can drink them until i fall off the stool. and i have before. i think.

christmas music. hell, i don't even celebrate christmas as anything more than a traditional american familial holiday. but i love christmas music.

tootsie rolls. the teensy ones. i'll include them as a guilty pleasure because i can't eat less than like fourteen at a time. which defeats the purpose of tiny like 10 calorie tootsie roll snack time.

there you have it, folks. i'd keep writing, but i have like the flu or something and feel like absolute shite. so have fun and until then, keep your unit on you.

my final blog..... of 2010

2010-12-31T22:12:00.000-05:00

the blogger's version of the 'see you next year' joke. remember, in school? probably like middle school, when we all had THE BEST sense of humor. the last day of school before the chrimbo holiday break, you'd tell all your friends 'see you next year!'. like any of us would forget and be like - WHAT?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NEXT YEAR? WE HAVE A SCIENCE TEST IN JANUARY.

kids.

so now that we're grown up (ish) bloggers, i can say 'my final blog.... of 2010' and think that maybe you'll only see 'my final blog' and be like ZOMG STEPH GAS I LOVE YOU WHY WOULD YOU STOP BLOGGING?!??!!??!

and then you see the 'of 2010' part and are like, oh. okay then. you got me. well played, steph gas, well played.

not really.

anyway. my new job started this past monday. while i was stranded in new york. thankfully, they've been supergreat through the past month - cutting me some slack while mom was in the hospital, moving me into another class when she died and i needed time off, and the other peeps i'm working with have been really supportive. they help me with my stupid n00b questions and it's a great group of people. however, i feel horrible because when i switched classes, they dumped all my codes to access systems to help people. sooooo i'm kind of useless right now.

but still, they pay me and let me learn and don't say nasty things to my face. probably just behind my back.

and when it rains, it pours, because i may have another top secret job offer in the works. but it's totes, like, top secret. so i'm not telling you yet.

all in all, the past six months have had super high highs and fucking ridiculously low lows. it's been one hell of a roller coaster and i really don't know how i feel about any of it.

tarzipan helps. no, really. i get that kind of flat affect thing that anyone who's ever taken anti-psychotic medications is probably familiar with.

looking back over my year, i don't even know what to think. the only thing i can really remember is my mom dying, and that was just a few weeks ago. she's not even been gone a month. i keep finding myself wanting to call her. if we go out to dinner, i want to call mom and remind her to eat since i won't be cooking. samantha did something really funny, and i wanted to call her and let her know. when we were in new york, i wanted to call her to vent about being stuck in the blizzard.

when i was in new york, i figured she was home with the cats. when i'm in florida, i figure she's in new york living with my revbobdad. i remember discussions i've had with people, saying i wouldn't be able to get on with out my mom. how just talking about her dying was enough to get me borderline hysterical. i always thought i'd never be able to function without her in my life.

so far, i am. i'm not sure how well i'm doing, but i am functioning. i'm surviving. i'm living. and i'm kind of enjoying it once in a while.

i asked my brother if i could share what he wrote to read at my mom's wake. this was the only thing i hated about mom's wake - he didn't tell me he was preparing something and he totes showed me up. dick.

anyway, here it is. and remember how fucking precious life is. i'm not going to get all tim-mcgrawy on your ass and say 'live like you were dying' (even though that's one of the very few country songs i like) but don't be a dick. have fun. love people. try hard to love yourself. and let people love you. enjoy your friends and family. don't fucking hold grudges. and seriously - stop smoking.

I never thought I'd be writing my mother's eulogy this far ahead of my 30th birthday; I always thought it would be a more adult worry for a more adult version of myself. It's hard for me to think of what to say in a situation like this. Our family has always been very open to speak about death, so that way, when it did come knocking on our doorstep, we would not react with fear or shock but with the ability to understand that it is the most inevitable part of life. But on a day like this, when death has not waited kindly on the doorstep but barged through the door right past us, raided the fridge, and sat down with his feet on the coffee table, how do you react? I can't help but find myself trying to make a joke about it because for as long as Mom had been a part of my life, that is how we've done it.

Mom never would have wanted us to sit in a room draped with black bunting, with the lights dimmed low, and with tears flowing freely. She would've told us we were wasting our time being miserable when there are so many more ways we could be out there making ourselves smile. I can almost hear her saying, "why bother crying when it's not going to change anything?" And for the most part, I think she was right. Mom always taught me to look at the lighter side of life, to find the happiness and joy in the small things and not get bogged down worrying about the things you can't have. I feel like everyone in this room would has their own personal story about Kathy that would bring a smile to their face, and I'm willing to bet that they're all completely different stories from completely different times and completely different places. Mom had an infectious personality that couldn't help but leave a smile on your face.

The one trait I could hope to have gained from Mom was her generosity of spirit. There are so many points in my life where I can remember mom putting my sister and myself before her own needs, making sure we were comfortable and happy before worrying about her own problems. Our lives may have had difficult times, but she never let us go wanting because of that. She always taught us that material possessions are not where happiness lay - it was in the experiences you had and the people you shared them with. I remember her always telling me when I was younger to live by the golden rule - treat others as you would want to be treated. It's a rule we all strive to live by but too easily forget, but a way of life that mom imprinted on me. I think it would be amazing if I could wind up being a tenth of the good person Kathy was.

I think if there is one thing Mom can teach us in her passing, it is to value not just what we have, but who we have it with. The amount of love and compassion that has been shown to our family has been mind-blowing; I could have never imagined how many lives she had touched. Whether you knew her as intimately as her brothers, sisters, or children did, or have just heard the stories we've been telling over the last few days, I hope that her spirit and generosity will stay with you through the years. I love you, Mom, and I always will treasure the time I had with you.

mom at sanaa, july 2010

happy fucking holidays.

2010-12-28T11:49:00.000-05:00

i'm stuck in new york until tomorrow. thanks, blizzard of 2010.

we had it all planned out: land thursday night, xmas eve with the family, xmas day running around with the family, and sunday we'd have breakfast and get the fuck home. since some of us started a new job yesterday.

instead, it fucking snowed LIKE WOAH. like 20+ inches, 60+ mph winds, blowing snow, ice, the whole nine yards. and our sunday flight was cancelled.

so i called jetblue to reschedule (at least they were letting us do it for free) and the first flight we can get back to orlando is TOMORROW morning. so instead of flying out sunday afternoon, we can't fly out until wednesday morning.

fucking. snow.

i mean, it's pretty, whatever. but my new job started yesterday and i would have liked to be home to start it. instead, i'm trying to do it on my laptop which isn't really 'work-ready'. at least they fucked up all my codes to log in so i can kind of blame it on them.

and since it's snowy and icy and the roads are for shit, i can't even spend the extra two days i have here eating delicious new york food or visiting new york friends.

yes, i mentioned food before friends. i love you guys, totes. i promise. but i also love pizza and greek food. at least i was able to get some greek food on friday with sisterfromanothermister and awesome husband.

anyway, happy fucking holidays guys. hope it was better than mine was. at least i have new year's to look forward to, a night when we drink and play video games and fall asleep by 10:30.

coming home

2010-12-21T10:17:00.000-05:00

i know i've been a horrible blogger for the past month. sometimes it's felt like a whirwind of activity, and sometimes it's felt like molasses in january.

i'd love to say 'i'm back'. i'd love to be able to promise you more posts about awesome husband, eating tarzipan, my ridiculous family, and my fucked up life.

i don't know that i can promise you any of that. i get through my days with the help of tarzipan (and probably more alcohol than i should admit to drinking), awesome husband, my brother, and my great family and friends. it takes a tragedy to bring us closer together sometimes, and that has been exceptionally true in my family. it's not that i was like estranged from members of my family, but there were some family members that i might have only seen or talked to a couple of times a year. with my mother's illness and passing, i feel like i have a whole new immediate family now. specifically with a few of my cousins - even though i may not talk to them much more than i did previously, i feel like we are all closer. and i wouldn't feel strange calling one of them in the middle of the night if i needed them.

it's a different feeling than i'm used to. but i like it.

what i can promise you is more bullshit about life, the universe, and everything. i plan on going back to talk therapy in the new year - so that will be worth at least a blog or two a week. probably about how much i hate my therapist. and awesome husband and i will be moving back to new york. so packing and stressing and actually moving will be amusing - to you guys, at least. and of course, i am continuing on with my schooling. even though new york state will not recognize an education degree received online, so i had to switch my plan of attack. i'll now be getting an associates with a concentration in psychology.

other than that, you'll probably have a lot of blogs about my mom. about what happened, how fast it was, what it felt like, what i was thinking. about planning your mom's funeral when you're 30 years old. how it feels to have another empty room in the house.

about how i can't walk into her room too often, because it still smells like her. how taylor - the oldest cat - has taken to sleeping on her pillow since mom left. how i keep putting off opening her drawers or closets or looking under her bed, because i don't know if i can see her things yet.

so yeah, it won't be a barrel of laughs. but i know it will be good - for me, at least. and maybe it will help some of you too.

mom and me at my wedding, october 2004

another post i thought i wouldn't write, at least not for a long time

2010-12-03T13:34:00.000-05:00

supersuperfast post. my mom passed away this morning. she went peacefully in her sleep. it has been less than two weeks since she went to the emergency room experiencing vision loss.

if anything, at least she went quickly and without having to fight. the cancer spread so fast and was so aggressive that there was nothing they could do but keep mom comfortable. i'll be here in new york for about another week, taking care of business and spending time with my family.

thank you all for your kind words and thoughts.

another post i never thought i'd write

2010-12-01T19:36:00.000-05:00

here i am, sitting in the hospice inn at huntington (great facility by the way). my mom is not doing great. while she was occasionally smiling and giving us one-word answers to direct questions, she is now fully unresponsive. she can no longer swallow. her breathing is a bit ragged and gaspy - which is why they have her on oxygen, to keep her comfortable. mom has a fever that they cannot break. these are all signs that the end is near.

it sounds so melodramatic. 'the end is near'. mom will gasp her last breath and die. but it's really not that dramatic. she breathes, albeit not well. she has a compress on her head to try and keep her comfortable. she gets morphine every four hours, also to keep her comfy. there is a bag full of her pee hanging on the side of the bed. mom has an iv needle thing stuck in her arm so they can administer the morphine, the steroids, and the anti-seizure medications. her eyes are kind of open, but she isn't seeing anything.

if anything, it's like ANTI melodramatic. it's actually pretty boring. i do my classwork, watch some television, listen to her breathe, and shop online for her urn. yes, you read that right: i am shopping for her urn as she lies on her deathbed and i am sitting next to her. they have free wifi here.

my family is NOTHING if not practical.

today was an exciting day. i had to go to the hospital where she was originally treated to hand in a fuckload of paperwork to get her medicaid application moving. the social worker was shocked to find out mom is in hospice care. even after she passes, he will still work on getting her medicaid approved so we don't have to pay the tens of thousands of dollars of medical bills that hospital stay (mostly in icu) wracked up.

then i got to go to the funeral home. now, i am irish. that means we like to wake. there's four visitations over two days for a friend's aunt? we're there for ALL FOUR. seriously - the irish invented wakes. you know how people always bring food to your home when someone dies? there's a reason. in ireland, when a family member died, the only room large enough to have everyone over to pay their respects was usually the kitchen. the kitchen table would be cleared off and the body would be laid on it. seriously. and all the neighbors and friends and relatives would bring over food since the family's kitchen was otherwise occupied.

things work a bit differently now, but the thought is still appreciated. i'd prefer vodka instead of food. and not smirnoff, please. i'm irish, not desperate. i prefer sobieski, grey goose, or at the very least, absolut.

so i went to the funeral home. the guy - bill - was supernice. we talked about having something a bit different. mom was not one for open caskets. hell, she didn't even want a wake - it's mostly for me and my brother. and she wanted to be cremated. so i was like, well, why don't we cremate her first, then have the wake instead of pumping her full of embalming crap and then cremating her and dumping her now-possibly-toxic ashes in the sea? bill was totally on board. we're doing a direct cremation - mom will be taken directly from the hospice inn to the crematory and then will be delivered to the funeral home. we'll supply an urn (biodegradable, of course) and we'll basically have a wake with an urn instead of a casket. i think mom would totally love it.

plus, it's a bit less expensive. mom could pinch a penny until it screamed. she'd definitely appreciate this.

but bill is taking care of everything. obituary? he helped me write it. list of things i need to do? he gave it to me. how to pay for it? i can give him mom's life insurance policy numbers and they'll contact the company, get their payment from the policies, and the company will send the rest to me. could it be easier?

it could be. mom could not be dying. and i wouldn't have to do any of this, make any of these decisions. i wouldn't have to tell my brother, my mom's siblings, or my dad what we plan to do when the end is no longer near, but passed. i wouldn't have to pick out flowers to sit next to the urn, or photos to add to the collages we plan on having at the wake. i wouldn't have to call the pastor from my high school to see if he'll come speak at my 56-year-old mom's funeral. i wouldn't have to buy an appropriate pair of shoes to wear to her wake (i have been informed that my zombie shoes may not be appropriate. while mom, awesome husband, brother, sisterfromanothermister, and select family members would appreciate it, the general consensus is most will not get it. damn it.) or hope i have time to get my nails done. i wouldn't have had to choose whether or not to include the cats in her obituary (yes, i did. shutthefuckup). i wouldn't have to figure any of this out. i would be sitting at home, bitching about my cats yelling or fighting or vomiting on the bed, and mom would be here in new york, living with my dad - her ex-husband - and training for the new job she really wanted. we'd be moving forward with our plan to come back to new york permanently and be a family again.

somehow, i don't feel like we will ever be a family again without mom.

superfast horrifying post

2010-11-28T15:38:00.000-05:00

here in my head where i am full of the AWESOME and shit like that, i imagine that you all are constantly wondering what i am up to. that you have noticed my absence over the past couple of weeks and have been wringing your hands in worry about my whereabouts.

in reality, you probably figured i'm a lame ass blogger who ran out of shit to say or something like that.

but in actuality, i've been in new york since november 21st. which was last sunday. i don't have the time or emotional capacity or energy to write the whole story out now, but believe me you'll probably hear enough about it in the near future. the short version will have to do.

my mom went to the emergency room with vision loss last saturday night. within hours they told us it was cancer. a huge mass in her lung which has metastacized and is also in her brain and other inernal organs. we were then told it was stage IV cancer. we are still waiting for the official biopsy results - that's how fast this has all happened. i am writing this from a hospice facility in huntington, new york where awesome husband and i are with mom, who is resting comfortably. mom has lost just about all of her vision at this point and is sleeping at least 23.5 hours a day. she only wakes up once in a while and says something. when she does 'wake up' she is lucid and knows who i am and can answer some questions.

if you don't know, 'hospice' is a word that is only really used when people are about to die. we don't have a real timeframe, but this facility only accepts people on a day to day basis. mom is not expected to survive for more than a few days. we cannot cure this cancer, only keep her comfortable while we wait for her to pass on.

so i may or may not be blogging for a bit. i haven't read or commented on anyone else's blogs either. and i don't know when i will be able to share this story. now we are only hoping for a quick and peaceful passing for my mom, who deserves to have something easy in this life - even if it is only death.

i've a shiny turkey

2010-11-16T21:50:00.000-05:00

that's right chaps and chapesses, i have received another award. this comes from semi true torystellar over at can u relate? who OBVIOUSLY agrees with me that i'm superawesome and totes deserving of almost any award.

so i have this shiny turkey to show for my blogging efforts.

shiny happy turkeys holding hands.. um..

now in addition to displaying this slick bird on my blog, i have to pass it on to 3-5 other deserving bloggers AND share a story involving some combination of “food, intoxication, kitchen, cooking/baking, or holidays”.

hmm. i'll award it to tiffany at on the verge because i can only HOPE she has an awesome story about cooking. i'll give one to simple dude here because he's a well-known award hog and i know at the very least he may have something useful to say about drinking and eating mcribs. and finally i'll share a shiny fucking turkey with kristine who writes wait in the van because if she doesn't deserve a shiny fucking turkey, who does in this crazy, mixed up world? seriously.

well, i eat a lot. and i drink *sometimes*. i'm in the kitchen often, cooking and/or baking (usually cooking) and i celebrate a few holidays. but all of these things together? hmmmmmmmmm....

this is harder than i thought. the times i've gotten specifically slizzard i have prepared food ahead of time or been somewhere that we pay people to cook for us. i have gotten superhigh and baked cookies before, but they were just those pillsbury cookie dough in a huge fucking pail that you scoop out and drop on a sheet and pop in the oven while you ~~pack and smoke a tight bowl~~ watch television. i do go through four bottles of beer on st. patty's day, but they go into the corned beef, not my bloodstream. i have gotten almost shitfaced on meade because that sneaks the fuck up on you, but neither kitchen nor cooking were involved. and drinking on the holidays is so overrated. that's what everyone else does. what do you think i am, some kind of fucking CONFORMIST? no, but seriously, i usually have to drive places on the holidays. so no drinking for me.

i have stories about times i was drunk without pants on. or drunk without a bra on. or cooking without pants on. or baking without pants on. i mean, PANTS i can work with.

i tried to make dinner for my family the second day i took tarzipan and kept doing stupid things. like not turning on burners. or practically cutting my fucking finger off. i'm sure it would be a hysterical story... if i could remember it.

sadly for you, most of my cooking/baking adventures turn out fairly successfully. i'm usually sober (or mostly sober) on major holidays. i've gotten drunk enough to sit (pantsless) on my kitchen floor and cry, but i don't think that is the kind of story this award requires.

i have failed you, semi true torystellar. i've failed your award. i don't deserve a shiny turkey. or a matte finish turkey. or even a shiny cornish game hen.

now all i can think about are cornish pixies from harry potter and the chamber of secrets. DAMN YOU JK ROWLING. just a couple of more days until i get my next harry potter fix. i'm seriously JONESING for tihs damn movie.

i.

cannot.

wait.

to recap: i've failed at accepting this blog award. i haven't taken a tarzipan yet today. i can't wait for harry potter and the deathly hallows part one this weekend. i haven't told any of you how my classes are going - school and work related. i haven't discussed my personal life or my bullshit or my craziness for days.

have i withdrawn? you bet your sweet asses i have. i'll work on pulling up my big girl panties and getting some shit done around here. until then, keep your unit on you.

are any of us 'living an authentic life'?

2010-11-11T22:11:00.000-05:00

so i totes stole this idea from semi true torystellar at can u relate? because that's how i fucking roll.

but seriously. it got me thinking. read her post first so i can skip some of the backstory.

she talks about wearing a mask and not being authentic. how so many of her friends are within the church and probably wouldn't approve of her real-life activities. of course, semi true goes further and says they may lay hands on her and cast out her demons. you might think she's joking.

she's not.

it's not that she's a bad person: she most certainly is not. she is not a fraud. she is not evil or wrong or horrible or hateful or mean to small children and furry animals. she's pretty much awesome: she drinks vodka, swears more often than she admits, bangs the hell out of her husband, and votes democrat.

i don't see any problems. i actually would say she's me, except i take full ownership of my swearing.

but semi true brings up that point: she isn't a cursing, vodka-swilling, husband-humping liberal when she's with her friends.

i posted a short comment on her blog (and owned up to the fact that i was copying her. imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so suck on it) stating how i WANT to say i'm myself all the fucking time. how i'm always this real and awesome and crazy.

the truth is, i am always this awesome and crazy. and i think i'm almost always this real. i learned/was taught at an early age that appearances were important. that some things were acceptable, and some were not. i was not encouraged to share my feelings. when i started 'acting out' at 11 or 12, i was brought to a psychotherapist who said i was lying for attention - that i was a pathological liar. when i began being abused and mistreated by a family member, i told another adult - and was accused of lying.

i never brought it up again.

and thus began my foray into years of wearing many masks. at school, i ventured between shy and crying to being outgoing and loud. i would be holed up in the nurse's office or library hiding from people one day and holed up in an unlocked art closet with a boy the next. i would lock myself in my bedroom and hang a blanket over the window and cry, or tape a plastic bag over my head and try to die. i would go to a family function, all dressed up with my makeup done and smile and shake hands and be the perfect teenager. i was myself in my bedroom, when i was alone. some friends saw through a few of the cracks, some of my family picked up on things here or there, but what it all amounted to could be written off as 'hormones' or 'moody teenager'. i hid my depression, my suicide attempts, most of my addictions, my cutting, my sexual activities, all of it. no one - not one person - knew the whole story.

and i'd put my mask on and see my family or friends, i'd go over this one's house or meet that one's parents, and everything would seem fine.

until my 18th birthday. at my paternal grandmother's house. in front of my brother, dad, aunt and uncle, and grandparents i had a literal meltdown. i barely remember what was said, but i remember shouting that i was sick of pretending to be someone i wasn't just to please them.

it was freeing; it was horrifying. i was disgusted with myself for acting like that, but pleased that the proverbial cat was out of the bag.

but was it? i like to think that since that day, i have been myself - i'm not afraid for you to know i'm a neo-pagan: a witch. i identify myself as a bisexual, as a democrat, as a big girl, as crazy, as a recovering addict, as a self-injurer, as an artist, as a cat-mom, as a wife, sister, and daughter.

i am always all of these things, whether or not i tell my friends or family, my prospective employers, people i meet in lines at disney.  just because i don't say these things doesn't mean i'm not these things.  it comes back to what semi true said: she is not authentic with these people because she is afraid they will reject who she really is.

i think we all come to a point where we decide FUCK THOSE PEOPLE. if they can't love me for who i actually am, why would i want them in my life?  but even then, there is a line. don't we all have a friend who we really disagree with on at least one major issue? for instance, i'm superagainst declawing cats to the point where when a friend was considering declawing her cats, i considered ending the friendship. (she didn't and neither did i.) and looking back - i would not have ended the friendship. i would have shared what i knew about declawing, let her horribly mutate her cats, been a bit mad at her inside, but kept the friendship. that is not authentic. but does that make it wrong?

it's like i said in the comment i left on semi true's blog. i hate pants. they are tight and clothesy. my thighs get claustrophobic.  so often, when i am in for the night, i take my pants off.  since we currently live communally with mom, i try to put my yoga pants on. but that doesn't always happen. just because i don't take my pants off when i go to my dad's or my in-law's or your house, am i being inauthentic (or whatever the word would be)?

no, i'm being fucking polite by not subjecting you to my cellulite.

but i do have two friends who live in new york. when i get to their house (when they don't have roommates who object) i take off my shoes, take off my pants, and curl up on their couch. i know it's not exactly the same, but it's not really like i'm wearing pants (FINE, it's not like i'm wearing a mask. you guys are boring). it's not like i'm wearing a mask when i am in mixed company - it's not that i'm not being steph gas. it's that some of steph gas is taking a time out because it's easier to keep the peace that way.

like my friends-who-i-remain-pantsless-with. we went to disney and got drunk one night. the two of us with BOOBS decided to flash all the tourists on the way home. that was steph gas being steph gas. me not taking my tits out when i go see my brother is not me being disingenuous. it's just a part of steph gas that is taking a time out because my younger brother really doesn't need/want to see my bewbz.

so, to wrap it up here, the practical upshot of all this has to do with keeping your pants on and your BOOBS in their place when you are with people who might judge you.