The Peanut Chronicles

Thursday, August 31, 2006

I am jealous of my six month old son. How pathetic.

Last night I wandered into the bedroom to go to bed. Nut had already been snoozing peacefully for about an hour. I crawled into bed next to him and I grabbed my teddy bear that my grandfather gave me when I was young. George has been with me through EVERYTHING! Elementary school simplicity, junior high bitchiness, high school insanity, death, births, college, marriage, pregnancy, graduate school, and Nutter being born! In fact, he is in some of the photos of Nutter in the delivery room. The nurses thought it was a bear for the baby. HA!

So imagine my dismay when I wake up this morning and find that my beloved George is no longer next to me. I look around frantically, assuming he fell on the floor. No, he wasn’t on the floor. I look at Nut and there is George, tucked snuggly right under Nut’s chin, drool streaming on to him.

OH.HELL.NO.

George is mine, damnit!! I tried to slowly remove him from Nut’s grasp. Nut began fussing. Hence, even though Nut has his own bear named Axel (after Axel Rose) from my cousin Emmy, he prefers George.

I think his father taught him to take George.

Sigh…

some friends...

I have a small problem that I am working to remedy. Basically it’s this: I drink too much. Well, at least recently I do. and coming from a family that over in Cali owns vineyards and wineries.... yeah. Consider this my pre-emptive strike, so to speak. I am aware of said problem. I am also aware that I come from a family of raging alcoholics. This being said, and after a sticky situation a few weeks ago, I have decided that I would rather not be a raging alcoholic like everyone else in my family and so I made forth the effort to effectively “sober up.”

Now, you would think that my friends would support this fact. Hmm… here are some responses:

Moe: Ok. Cool (Thank you Moe!)
Autumn: yeah right. We’ll see about that.
Mariposa: really? Why?
Fly girl: uh-huh. Sure.

But the one that really pisses me off is last night at dinner with Militant Yuppie. We go to the restaurant that fly girl works at. She asks me if I want an apple martini. I say, “No, I don’t drink anymore.”

MY: Sure. Heard that before.
Me: no really, this time I stopped drinking.
MY: yeah. Heard that before too.

Ouch.

It’s nice to know that none of my friends really support me what so ever. Really makes me wonder whom it is that they see. I know who I am; do they know who I am? All of them want to know why I decided to quit. The only answer I will give them is “when I drink I get myself into unhealthy and potentially dangerous situations.” That’s the truth, and like an onion, there are many different layers to that statement. I was chatting with FG this morning as she baby-sat Nut so I could go work out and she was also curious to the change. Same statement. I also told her how annoying it is that I seem to have no support in it. It’s fucked up.

I’m not saying that I won’t go out and party with my friends. In fact, I am looking forward to going to Las Vegas next week for Autumn and Hulk’s bachlor/ette parties. It just means that I am not really in the mood to put myself in a dangerous situation. I’ll drive your drunk asses around if you want. It doesn’t mean that you can’t have beer or wine around me. I think all my friends can still do what ever the hell they want. I am not one to lecture them; it’s their lives. But if I decide to do something, can’t they fucking support me? Just a little? I am trying to be healthy and beat a fucking statistic here! But no… instead no one has faith in me. Really makes me feel great about myself.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

Set fire to the third bar

I find the map and draw a straight line
Over rivers, farms, and state lines
The distance from here to where you'd be
It's only finger-lengths that I see
I touch the place where I'd find your face
My finger in creases of distant dark places

I hang my coat up in the first bar
There is no peace that I've found so far
The laughter penetrates my silence
As drunken men find flaws in science

Their words mostly noises
Ghosts with just voices
Your words in my memory
Are like music to me

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold gound
I, I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms

After I have travelled so far
We'd set the fire to the third bar
We'd share each other like an island
Until exhausted, close our eyelids
And dreaming, pick up from
The last place we left off
Your soft skin is weeping
A joy you can't keep in

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold gound
And I, I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms

And miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold gound
and I, I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms

anyone who has been in a long distance relationship understands

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

reason five

Reason number five he is an ass is simple. Actually, it’s not. It’s complex. Last night I got home really REALLY late (it was actually this morning). I said to Bear, as I crawled into bed, “weirdest thing. I feel like I am ovulating.”

He promptly asked me for sex so we could have another kids. His reasoning? “You don’t ovulate so if this is it this may be our only chance.”

Hmmm… perhaps he didn’t remember how hard the pregnancy was. Or what “high risk” means. Or the surgery. Or the infection. Or the blood transfusion. Or all the medications. Or the blood pressure issue. Or the fact that the doctor point blank informed us that I almost died and should not have another baby because it could be possibly fatal.

Yes, maybe he forgot all of that.

Fucker.

Needless to say, he did not get laid. I was tired.

In the mean time, Nut STILL has not had a nap. He just wants to play and play and play. I am exhausted. I need him to nap. I need some alone time. It was great that FG came over and baby-sat so I could work out. I came home and in return spent about an hour giving her her first pole-dancing lesson. (yes, pole dancing. EXCATLY what you think.) Nut just sat and watched. We are scheduled for another one this weekend.

Currently the Nut is crying in the bedroom. He just needs a fucking nap. It’s 423 in the after noon and he hasn’t napped since he woke up today at 1030. I have tried everything. Food, burping (and vomit all over me twice now), gave him MY teddy bear, took him on a walk, played ocean noises, bounced, sang, rocked… I am totally out of ideas so I am just letting him cry himself out now. And I think it worked! He has been quiet for about a minute now! Yea!!! Sanity break for mommy!! Wohoo!!

Militant Yuppie and I are going out for dinner tonight. We are going to go over to the place FG works at to harass her. When I called him up to see if he wanted to go get dinner he said, “sure….” And I could almost hear in his head “so what’s the catch?”. No catch, just bored and lonely.

There is no bear here for me. That makes me sad. Even if he is an ass.

Reason number 4 my husband is an ass

Reason one: he cheated. Twice. (before we were married.)
Reason two: Chicago
Reason Three: comment made 4 weeks after Nut was born

and now for reason 4:

I really dislike it when the Bear questions my skills as a parent. Today’s prime example of this was when he was leaving for Scarlet Wood (lucky bastard) with a client. He will be gone over night. He asked me if he should call Fly Girl and have her “check up on” us to see if “we are doing ok.”

I know what you are thinking: awwwwwwww

This, however, was actually a backhanded compliment caring looking thing. I told him that FG was coming over at about 1130 so I could go work out and try to settle my mind over this whole new job thing (it starts next Tuesday by the way). He smiled and said “great, because I know how hard it is for you with nut. Maybe I should have FG stay the night and take the night shift.”

Excuse me? What the fuck? Do you think I am not capable of waking up to feed the baby?

I inquired his thought process for this and he literally said, “well, I know how frustrated you get with him and you tend to break down if left along with him for too long and I thought I would be sure that you got a break so you don’t get hysterical like you did when you went wedding dress shopping with Autumn.”

All right, he has a point. I did sort of breakdown crying hysterically when he left me alone with Nut for the whole day when I was supposed to go out with Autumn and was frustrated with Nutter. However, that was two weeks after he was born, I was still on major meds (12 of them!!), couldn’t bed down because of the c-section, was super sleep derived, couldn’t get Nut to breast feed, was still super hormonal and he went off to play air soft with his buddies. Yeah, any wonder why I was upset? That was last MARCH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!

I point this out. His response? “Well, by the time I get home you hand me Nut and walk out of the room and don’t touch him for at lest an hour.”

Again, true. However, Bear leaves us at about 8am and gets home between 7 and 9 pm. I have spent the whole day feeding, burping, changing, playing, rocking, singing, reading, sesame streeting, avoiding Satan, eye drop giving, baby einstiening, the wigglesing (are EVIL), dancing, bathing, and trying to nap for the last 12 fucking hours. OF COURSE I am going to hand over the baby! I don’t even have time to take a shit without him!!

I am agitated that Bear thinks it’s all games. And when Bear is home with Nut, it is all games!! He laundry monsters! He elevators! He Super Nut’s! And Nut is only awake for maybe, at the most, four hours when Bear is around. The rest he sleeps. And yes, Bear has one day off a week in which he takes Nut and totally fucks up my schedule I am trying to put him on by taking him for a fun day of hiking! Or to the park! Never mind that this totally fucks up the schedule I am trying to keep because I have him the other SIX fucking days!!!

Does he get that? of course not. He wants to be the fun parent.

Needless to say, I was a little pissed. I swear to god sometimes he just doesn't think at all before he opens his fucking mouth. It didn’t help after our conversation from last night. But that is another story to be vented during Nut’s afternoon nap because the Peanut is beginning to wake up now.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

what the....

Aggravation.

At the gym today, working out, and I am watching the news cast on the TV above the bikes. As always, it is muted and the closed captioning is on. Most people don’t really care for CC but I rely on it heavily to figure out what the hell is going on in the world. I also use it when watching TV shows and movies at home.

The live typists for closed caption news, however, are idiots. Really. I mean it. And I don’t like to use that word because it basically means lacking all knowledge. But really, this one was an idiot.

Hello honey, I know you are under pressure when you type fast in order to keep up with the news and not have too much of a lag time but let me clue you in to a little secret: misspelled words? That isn’t too kosher. Now, I can understand d misspelling words where you just put the “I” before the “E” by mistake. But really important words? Or really simple words? How did you get this job?

Here are some BLARING examples from the broadcast about New Orleans and Apple iTune’s:

“hist tor tick” that is supposed to be historic
“Muse sick” yup, music
“ape pell” Uhh... apple
“sat mare ies” St. Mary’s?

let’s not forget my favorite….

“knew ort lan ness” any guesses?

It was supposed to be New Orleanans. (Mind you I don’t really think that there is a real word spelling for it but you get the idea.)

I ponder about the intelligence of this lovely typist but then I realize that the channel is FOX news. Oh yeah… real accurate news casts there. No wonder this person works there. Look who owns the station…

grrr...aurgghhh....

Grudges.

People who hold grudges better be justified. I hold grudges. I admit freely to it. However, there is a different between being mad and holding grudge. For example, I am mad at my friend for comparing me to someone he doesn’t know and doesn’t understand the situation. Am I going to hold a grudge? Nope. Grudges are reserved for those people who have done something or said something so heinous that I won’t forgive them. For example, I ended a friendship over a comment made about my kid when I was pregnant and my skills as a mother. Yeah, that is a grudge. And it’s justifiable. but does anyone know that? nope. why? BECAUSE IT'S OUR BUSINESS AND NOT THEIRS. But like most parts of my life, there is no way with my grudges that people outside of the problem will even know about it. why? see reson above.

Why is it that people are so quick to judge when two people are arguing? Here’s a little insight for you: more then likely, you DON’T know everything and you never WILL know everything.

Grr… I am pissed now.

better go write in my real diary at the coffee shop without Nut. (He and dad are going hiking in the swamplands)

Monday, August 28, 2006

Day is done

Oh the joy. Oh the humanity.

The Bear got my phone replaced. It has all these buttons that I am not sure how to work but ya wanna know what is the coolest part? IT’S LOUD!! Yes, its super loud so even my deaf ass can use it. Wohoo!!! And it’s pretty.

In other news, it turns out that today was NOT my last day with Nutter. Actually, it probably was but I can live in my delusions (tomorrow is Dad and Me day where Bear takes the day off and chills with the Nutter), I expect that I will begin work on Wednesday. Today was great with him though. We played, we giggled, we read our books, we tried the new high chair (oh my god he is growing fast!!!), we discovered the love of peas, and we ended the day by falling asleep on mom while she tried to take a bath.

I sat in the frigging water for an hour.

Nut got his feet wet and slept soundly. I wouldn’t have changed it for the entire world. I think I am really going to miss this.

heartbreak even

And I try not to let my emotions show
But it ain't a balloon I can just let go
Its an ice cream cone dripping in the sun
Sticky hands
Sticky arms
Sticky situation

Tomorrow I go back to work. Yes, I got the adoption job. Yes I am super excited. I think that if I ever refer to my job I will call it… I’m not sure yet. Anyway, I got the job that I really wanted. It doesn’t pay as much as I had hoped for but at least it’s a job. And it may work with the stipend. However, it’s still a fifteen grand pay raise from what I made without my masters so that made grad school worth it.

Here’s the thing though: I was so excited to be going back to work. So VERY excited. So why is that when I called up the Bear to tell him that I started work tomorrow, he picks up the phone and I BURST into tears!!??

I understand that after giving birth that it takes a year to get your hormones back into the daily routine of being normal. Or at least to the way that they were. Maybe this is why I am so cranky with Bear and life right now (god I hope so). But I burst into tears!! I don’t cry. Very few people have seen me cry. It just isn’t me.

The truth is, I think that I am afraid that I am going to miss something in Nut’s life. The likelihood that the Bear and I will be able to conceive another child is less then one percent. Even then, the doc has advised against it due to the rough delivery, bleeding out, and consequential surgery for me. Not too keen on the thought of death you know. So this IS IT. I don’t want to miss anything. However, by returning to work, am I missing everything? Or will I appreciate the time that I have with Nut more?

Last night, as we were flying home from Scarlet Wood in one of the airplanes we have (wow. I sound snotty and rich there.) Nut was screaming so much in the back seat that I pulled him out of his carrier, into the front seat, changed his diaper, PJ’s, wrapped him into his “thank heaven for little boys” blankie with the airplane on it that I slept with while I was preggers with him, and held him close and tight while he snoozed away. The slept this way the entire plane ride home, which was a couple of hours.

I was listening to my iPod under the headset I was wearing in the cockpit and the song “In this life” came on and I almost started bawling there too!!

By going back to work, what am I going to miss? His first steps? Sentences? Crawling? I mean, this is it. He is my world. Can I really leave my world to someone else, even if it is our beloved Fly Girl? And what will Nut remember? FG or me? I may have hated being a housewife and all the connotations of being a trophy wife but shit, I wasn’t ready to go back and give it up this soon.

Basically, I don’t think that I was ready for today to be the last day. It seems too sudden. Too abrupt. It’s like a sudden death.

I am not ready to say goodbye, and my world, once again, is reeling.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Coffee musings while waiting for Mariposa

I.AM.EXHAUSTED.

I love coming home. Love it, love it, love it. My hometown makes me so happy. I warned Bear’s students (who are here as well) that if any of them insult my town I would open a can of whoop ass that they have never seen before. Yes, this mild mannered five foot tall little red headed sweet mamma will turn into a whirling red haired flaming and roaring bitch that will be taking names and kicking ass. Nobody fucks with my town!

But anyway… while the Bear goes off and teaches I am left to fend for myself. No worries. Nut and me will be fine. I head off to the old historic part of town to my favorite store in old town. It’s a lover’s boutique, which is a fancy way of saying high-class porn shop. They have sexy lingerie for ALL sizes, they have toys, they have accessories… they have a very small bookshelf of videos. So it’s not really a porn store per say. Anyway, I spent waaaay too much money their on corsets (yes plural) because I loaned out my corsets and SOMEONE still has them. Anyone who knows me well knows that my self-esteem is very fragile so let me just say, and it must be true if I can say it, I look really REALLY good. Oh yes, lots of tips on Tuesday.

I then made my way over to the joke of the mall in this town. Now, I know that I call the mall near my house the “ghetto mall” but in reality, this mall in comparison to the one I went to today is like Beverly Hills shopping center. I went to visit Mariposa who was working as well as Hulk. As I walked out from bugging them at their perspective jobs (hulk is the boss so it’s not like he could get in trouble too much) I ran into the H******t Honeys. Yeah!!!! I was so hoping to see them here but Honey T doesn’t seem to return emails or phone calls (you punk you.) They met the Nutter. I got pictures. Tee hee. More to add to the lovely Christmas card thing we are doing this year. Anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion that Honey T is reading this and possibly Honey J as well. What’s up guys?

After all this I am back at the coffee house in old town area. Why? Uhhh… well they have Internet and coffee. Enough said. Plus, Nut is FINALLY asleep. He took a ten-minute nap around 10 am today. THAT IS IT. What the fuck? I though that babies slept a lot. No, not my Nutter. He likes to rock out. Personally, I think that he liked Honey J’s beard. He had never seen one before. He finally fell asleep about 15 minutes ago. He had been awake since about 10 am. It’s 405 now. Holy fuck.

Being here makes me happy. Makes things with Bear better. When we are in Metropolis, shit comes up. We don’t like being there. When I am here, I begin to forget. And when you can begin to forget, then you can begin to forgive. Forgive who? Everyone. Things just make more sense here to me.

I am not a city girl. When I moved here from Metropolis (ok, fled metropolis. I’ll call it what it is.) To pretty much start over, I didn’t think I fit in here. Too small. But now I realize that I fit in here all along and it’s the city where I don’t belong. Too big and impersonal. It’s cold and busy and impersonal. When I am there, I feel like I have lost myself and I don’t really know where to be found. When I am here… I am not sure. Everything just makes sense to me. I feel like I know where I belong and what I am supposed to do with myself. I don’t feel so lost and depressed.

Yesterday is a good example of this over joyness. One, Bear’s students pointed out that I was grinning like and idiot every time they looked at me. And it’s true, I was not only grinning like an idiot but I was jumping. LITERALLY. I was jumping up and down because I was so damn happy in the parking lot of the damn hotel we were staying at. It was great. I loved it. Bear’s student’s must have thought I was out of my mind. Oh well, I don’t care.

Tomorrow I have to go home. Not before I go to the beach. I am going to go introduce Nut to his grandma. Her ashes are spread up here on one of the beaches. I rarely go to the beach because of this reason. Nut has never seen the Ocean either. I think it will be an interesting experience for him. I would have done it today but I want Bear to see Nut’s reaction. I think, like the fire works on the 4th of July, it will be priceless. And, laugh all you want, but I want a picture taken with me and Nut at the beach. It’s kind of in a weird way my photo with my mother and her first grandchild. Dumb? Sure. Do I care? Nope. I want it.

reminiscing

I’m home.

The bear, Nut and I flew in yesterday to Scarlet Wood. I am currently sitting with Nut at Old Town Coffees and Chocolate enjoying a cup of EXCELLENT coffee and some time with Paige. Nut is fussing like no tomorrow but I am sorry, ten minutes is NOT a nap. He needs to take his frigging nap and then he will feel better.

I was driving through town and this song came on the radio by system of the down. Chop Suey! Ok, this song makes no sense to me because it talks so quickly in the beginning (oh the joys of hearing loss) but I remember it very clearly because of the main lyrics. Actually, I remember the tune; I can’t understand the lyrics when I hear it. Anyway, I have a distinct recollection of hearing it while I was…uh… dancing. But there is a point to this.

I was reminiscing about all the interesting things I used to do pre-mommihood. And I want to talk about Nut for a minute. He is just such a good kid. I mean it. All my friends love him and spoil him rotten (cough cough cough MOE cough). He is a happy baby. Strangers are even amazed how beautiful he is. I hope it lasts. I really hope that Nut doesn’t inherit my self-esteem and mental issues fallout. It is only right that I want the best for him in his life. I can’t imagine what my life was like before him.

But there are secrets that I NEVER want him to know about me. Actually, I don’t want to answer any questions from the years of my life of 16 through 22. After all, I met his dad when I was 22. He doesn’t really need to know how I made money in college (nothing illegal, just degrading.) He doesn’t need to know about my e what ever you want to call them. The whole thing with that asshole? Yep. Still reeling from that entire seriously degrading and fucked up relationship ten fucking years later. And I don’t want Nut to know what a stupid slut his mom was. And I certainly don’t want my Nut to use woman for shits and giggles. Its heartbreak at it’s worst.

I sit here in my hometown, where I rebuilt my life, and wonder who the hell is going to teach my son to be a man. I certainly know his father will try but his father has fucked up too. It’s kind of disturbing to me because I want my son to be a decent man. But what is a decent man these days? I think Nut will be fine. He has how many “uncles” who can teach him stuff? And although Bear insists on letting Nutter get away with everything and is currently the “fun parent I think his Uncles will not let him get away with shit. Or at least I hope not.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

the quick and dirty review of the day

Today was a very VERY looooooooooong day. Let’s put it this way: Nutter wakes up at around six. He finally decided that he wanted a nap at seven. That would be 7PM!!!! Holy crap. We had to go all over the place too. We went down to Verizon to fix mommy’s phone, which has been fried out. I would like to say something exotic happened to it but in reality I spilled a bottle of formula on it. Yes, I am a klutz.

Here’s the kicker… after dragging the baby all the way down there, they inform me that I am not on the lease, only bear, and I can’t replace it without him there. What the fuck?! So I am still phone less, which sucks because I am off to my hometown tomorrow (leaving on a jet plane!!!) and I don’t have a phone to be contacted with!!

What else did we do today? We went out to Hades, where I will be working. Yes, I got the job that I so desperately wanted a few months ago. And yes, it may work on the stipend repayment front! So why call the town Hades? Because it is a white trash town that usually hits about 115 during the summer. In other words, it’s hot as….

Nut and I also journeyed over to the local babies r us to buy… a high chair. Sigh. The little peanut is growing up so fast that I think I might be missing something when I go back to work. I was lucky today. He was sitting on my lap when he actually held himself in a seated position on his own for a few minutes for the first time. I am gonna miss shit!!! This depresses me and when you have a problem with depression, it ain’t too good. Cleaning out his dresser a few weeks ago killed me as well. Sob.

But Nut has a toy. A cool toy. It’s the Toy that Sarge gave him when he was home on leave from the Mideast. I can’t even explain how much this toy has infiltrated Nut. HE WILL NOT PUT IT DOWN. He eats with it, sleeps with it and pretty much is always with it in hand or foot. (Monkey toys like mom!!!)

Other nutter news is he has an Eye infection. I took him over to Kaiser and the NP helped us remembered Nut. (“I’ve seen Peanut before when he was a few days old!! I remember that I told you that I liked his name and that I worked with a doctor Peanut!”) His eye is super gross and infected. Goop and goo and all sorts of disgusting shit draining out of it. At least he doesn’t squirm when I give him his eye drops, which he needs 4 times a day. Bear is quite militant about that as well.

“We’ll give it to him every six hours. When is the next drop due?”

“uhhh… two am I think” (Truth is I didn’t think that he was going to do the militant version. I just figured that we would do drops in the morning, afternoon, evening and right before bed. But I was wrong…)

“OK, 0200 hours it is. After that, 0800 hours….”

Roll eyes here.

Nut has become very vocal. Moe and I were talking, like we do every day, and I mentioned that it’s going to be a real bitch when he starts talking back. I think he is going to have an attitude problem. Moe said, “uhh, yeah. He’s your kid.” Oh lord. I am sure my mother is laughing her ass off in the after life. I’m screwed.

Speaking of mother’s, there is a website that is really powerful. It’s called motherless. I think I might submit to it. I just have to think about a way to do it without insulting my siblings and their memories. We all have different ones.

And speaking of websites, mad world is back and I am super happy!!!

I’m going to bed, now that Nut is finally asleep.

PS really quick, the bear is NOT buying the business. not yet. I'll keep you all posted. thanks for the comments. my sainity really needed them. :P

New name

So the macbook has spoken. She prefers to be called Paige. I asked her why? she informed my that she understands how much I miss Bettie and although she can emulate Bettie, she would rather be Paige. I told her this was OK because Bettie was actaully named for Bettie Paige. this made the new macbook very very happy. So her name is Paige, named for none other then... Bettie Paige.

anyone who leaves a comment that mocks this lovely conversation will have bad karma.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Un-fucking-believable

WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK?!!!!

Call me crazy but when you are going to spend an obscene about of money, shouldn’t you mention it to your wife?

Bear has decided that Bill Johnson, who wants to buy the business Bear works for, should go ahead. Good for Bill. He can afford to drop 65 grand on a failing business to see if his “pet project” could be turned around into a profitable business.

Oh, if only it were so simple.

Bear informs me that Bill will front the money and Bear would be the owner of the business and pay Bill back.

EXCUSE ME?!!!

“Sounds logical to me if they are taking a monthly profit from the business to pay back bill the money that he fronted. What would happen if the business folded?”

“It’s not going to fold”

Uh-huh. Right. It’s been losing money for years.

“But WHAT IF it folds? Would we owe Bill 65 grand?”

“Technically, yes.”

WHAT THE FUCK? And he’s gone through with it already without asking me!! We don’t have 65 grand to drop in a failed business adventure. And, I am not being a cynic, I am being logical.

I should leave his ass now.

maybe I will, now that I have a job.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

This year's love better last

What is love? Is it an undying forever thing? Where your life is lightened up with the very thought of the person? Is it a passionate bonding of two people over and over? Is it staying up all night holding your hair when you are sick? Is it praying for the person when you don’t believe in god? Is it splashing around in fountains in public in the middle of February? Is it dancing with a pineapple in the middle of the grocery store? Is it listening to your dreams and fears and hopes? Is it stealing the heat of your partner by putting your cold feet between their thighs at night? Is it someone who makes you cum? Is it creating a new life together? Is it cracking jokes at midnight when you know very well the other person isn’t asleep either? Is it being able to cry on the shoulder of the partner with no questions asked? Is it being able to be vulnerable in front of a person with no worries of retaliation?

"This years love had better last
Heaven knows it's high time
And I've been waiting on my own too long
But when you hold me like you do
It feels so right
I start to forget
How my heart gets torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Feeling like you can't go on"

Is it being able to ask stupid questions and not get stupid answers? Is it the patience of a partner when you are learning new things? Is it the partner who gets up all night with the colicky baby? Is it constantly using the better car? Is it dancing in the middle of a parking lot to a song on the car radio while everyone watches? Is it having been supported while unemployed? Is it someone who reads you children’s stories when you are sleepy? Is it someone who understands that the death of a pet is traumatizing, even if you are an adult? Is it someone who would not think twice about physically harming someone who has hurt you? Is it when you can’t stop thinking about the person even when you are doing the most mundane things? Is it someone who brushes your hair?

"Turning circles when time again
It cuts like a knife oh yeah
If you love me got to know for sure
Cos it takes something more this time
Than sweet sweet lies
Before I open up my arms and fall
Losing all control
Every dream inside my soul
And when you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet"

Is it someone who isn’t afraid to look stupid in front of his or her friends? Is it the person who makes up silly songs to sing to you when you are feeling blue? Is it someone who cooks dinner for you? Is it someone who takes care of you when you are in the hospital? Is it someone who can cry in front of you? Is it the person who will shave your legs because you can’t reach? Who will rub your feet after a long day with out being asked? Who will pop you zits on your back? Who comes with you to every doctor appointment you have just to be sure you are healthy? You learn a foreign language just to talk to you? Who puts you above their family? Who asks you to forgive them? Who wants to make all the demons go away? Who will shut the closet door at night so the monsters don’t get out? Who tries to steal your teddy bear in the middle of the night because it smells like you? Who wears your clothes when you are out of town because they smell like you? Who wants to watch you get old with them? Who laughs at your corny jokes? Who knows when not to press a subject further? Who doesn’t ask you about your past? Who tries daily to gain your approval? Who tries daily to erase the past?

"So whose to worry
If our hearts get torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Don't you know this life goes on
And won't you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet"

And after all this, if this is love, when do you forgive them?

Monday, August 21, 2006

Evil has a name

I knew it would happen the first time I had heard of him. he was short, red and seemingly charming. People everywhere thought he was adorable. He had only a small ego and for his populatiry, that was something that was amazing. everyone loved him. people would fawn over him. the first time I saw him I realized he inflitrated the world to spread his evilness everywhere behind his cute face and voice. Oh yes people, we are talking about him. the big baddie. the evil one. the lord of the underworld.

I'm talking about elmo.

sure, laugh. but from day one I have thought this was an evil muppet. the muppets stand for everything I love. they teach lessons! they have humor! adults dig them! muppets make great movies to create drinking games to! sesame street taught tolerence and understanding!

but now... now it's all over. sesame street has fallen under the rule of elmo.

I remember my first Elmo sighting. it started with Connie. she was wearing an elmo shirt in government class my senior year of high school. I couldn't figure out who the fuck was on her shirt. I love the Muppets (still do!) and I had not seen this one. I asked her:

"So connie, what muppet is that?"

"What? you don't know who ELMO is?" she rolled her eyes here. then she goes off explaining what the hell this little sock mop thing was. how wonderful he was... how terrific he was... I got suspicious. For the rest of the year, whenever I had a question for OCnnie, she would talk down to me in a patronizing voice as if I was some stupid little kid. oh yes, she had been elmo-ized. is it any wonder I hated high school so much?

That Christmas, Elmo groupies lined up in the wee hours of the morning outside of stores, waiting to grab an elmo doll for their little one's who had fallen under satan's-opps, I mean ELMO's- spell. there were fights over the damn doll. they treated the doll as a holy grail. the second coming of Christ. they were worshiping false idols.

the first time I had a run in with a tickle me elmo doll was when I was in Orgeon when I was 19 years old. I had driven to Orgeon on a whim, which started my penchen for disappearning for a few days and then just reappearing. Orgeon was the furtherst I have gone. Trust me, if you have figured out where metropolis is by now then you know that it is quite a drive. I visited my friend Looney. she took me to a store where there was a whole wall of Elmos. we spent the next few minutes setting them all off. why? why not?!

as we stepped back and watched the whole asile shake and giggle with the annoying high pitched laugh of "HA HA HA HA!! THAT TICKLES!" I realized that this was the antichrist. alright, I may have been a little high at the time but you get the point. I turned to Looney and said, "I have seen the face of evil, and it is Elmo."

Later tht year, for Christmas, I recieved a Tickle me Elmo doll as a joke. holy crap! that is one scarey mother fucker when the batteries start dying. as the batteries fade, Elmo's got deeper and deeper until it sounded sinister. instead of vibrating at the regular rate, it would slowly convulse until it no longer would move. after about five minutes of being dormint, when I was no where near the damn thing, all of a sudden the little high pitched voice would say "that tickled" as if possessed. I would think that the head would turn around in circles. after all, Elmo is the devil's child and this just further convinced me of it.

A few days ago, Nut and I went to Toys R Us. I was shocked and freaked out to see that there was a FIGGING COUNT DOWN on the belly of a huge elmo cardboard that said "weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds..." until tickle me Elmo is 10 years old! I came to a dead standstill. 10 years of fricking tickle me elmo. TEN YEARS! Nut stared at the count down. it's clock was ticking away in digital red numbers. I looked up at the elmo. surely that was an evil "come to the dark side" grin he was shining down upon my precious son. And how was Nut reacting? I looked at him. he was fasinated. he was giggling. HE WAS REACHING!!!!

oh no... no no no!! I quickly picked up the smaller elmo doll that was part of the display and for sale.

"Nutter, this elmo. he is EVIL. he is the devil's child! stay away from him."

Nut looked at mommy like she had lost her mind.

Maybe I have.

Every where I have gone for the past ten years I have tried to educate people about the evils of elmo. he is patronizing, he talks to kids with stupid baby talk if he doesn't get his way he throws a fit, he dominates Seasame Street. none of these are great lessons for impressionable youth. I want to strangle him until those little eyes bludge off his head.

People think I am crazy. They smile at the lady preaching the evils of elmo and then walk quickly in the direction of an elmo stand and buy one. "don't you get it?" I want to yell, "he is evil!! he is taking over the world!" but all of my efforts had failed...

..... or so I thought

Finally, an alliance begins to form.

and it's about fucking time too.

as simple as snow

I just read a really good book. it is called As simple as snow. it is anything BUT simple. I really enjoyed it because, like me, it was a little odd. the premise of the book is that there is a goth girl in town who meets a boy and then disappears in february. all that's left is her dress next to a hole in the ice. but the book makes you wonder if she has really died or is still alive. was it murder, suicide, or a prank?

I relate to this book. at times, when I was reading it, I was in total shock. I could have sworn that the author had gotten ahold of my diaries from about ten or twelve years ago and created a story using them. I wound up underlining passages in the book just to make sure I had read them right. I am not kidding. it could have been me. and when I say that he found my diaries and used them I am talking about my REAL diaries and not the fake ones that everyone has seen me writing in. it was almost creepy.

I think what I really liked about it was the code. "something as simple as snow". snow is simple and yet to compair every snowflake in the world and catolge them etc is quite complex. hence, snow is never quite as simple as it looks. there are layers of complexities to it. I like it because that is how I feel about my self. nothing is ever as black and white as it seems with me. I am the queen of answering questions with more questions (thank you grandpa for that talent) and if you don't ask the right questions then every answer you will get seems wrong.

anyway, I reccomend the book. I don't think that every one will like it that I know but I think that a few people will like the errie story.

and speaking of books....

...my book is offically for sale!! wohoo!!! it even has reviews up on the publishing website!!!

I have more to say but Peanut has awoken and wants attention. He really needs to sleep though. no nap so far really today. a 20 minute nap at costco does not count!!!!!

Sunday, August 20, 2006

where the hell am I?

Oh, you know... here... there....mostly there.

Sorry, I have been on vacation for the past few days. where? Nevada baby. not even vegas, just virgina city. visiting people that the bear used to... date. yes, date. she's a lesbian now. here's a small world for you: I used to work with her at a club when we were teenagers. waaaay before I met the bear. hahahaha...

in other news, Betty the laptop has passed away and the nice foks at apple have sent me a new laptop free of charge. while I will miss Betty, I can't think of a new name for this one. this computer has yet to tell me it's name, although Harolw is beginning to come to the foref ront.

yes. I am wierd.
no. I am not drunk.
just a little wierd.

anyway, there is a silver lining to the job thing. Possible job that I really REALLYwanted awhile ago is now a possiblitiy although a place called me that is in OUTSKIRTS and looking for a PROGRAM DIRECTOR!! neo-natal and infant stuff for mom's with abuse issues (drugs). interview is on tuesday. I want it. cross fingers, say prayers, send happy thoughts... whatever gets you through the day.

Ahhh... and the nose peircing is really small. not a hoop, just a stud of Nut's birthstone.

more later. must unpack now.

and spell check is (%^*R^&*$%^* up so excuse the typos!!

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

what's new pussy cat?

Betty has died.
I pierced my nose.

.....yup, that's all for now.

wait, did I mention the job?

Monday, August 14, 2006

Opening a can of whoop ass

I am annoyed. My current morning routine is to play with Nut until about 10 am and then put him down in his stroller and walk a few blocks down the street to Pete’s coffee spot and get a cup of coffee. This is the time when Nut falls asleep and I write in my dairy, listen to my iPod and generally relax in the big frumpy green chair at the back of the place. Nut sleeps and this hour is my “mommy time”. Well, the inner sanctum of my mommy time has just been violated.

When I was pregnant, people used to try to rub my belly. It was weird and uncomfortable. My friends, god bless ‘em, would ask if they could touch the belly or I would offer because you could always see in their eyes that they wanted to pet it (yeah, that’s right Moe. I’m talking to you!!) It’s fine, since my friends understand what personal space is. They also know that I am not really the “touchy feely” kind of person. If you get a hug from me you are damn lucky. It means that I trust you.

I always found it sort of violating when strangers would pat my belly as if I were their pet or something. Most of the time I smiled politely. Most of the time. It was a forced smile and gritted teeth of “get your fucking hands off my bitch!” kind of smile. I thought for sure as soon as Nut was born the gross intrusions of my personal space would stop. After all, I was no longer a cute preggers lady; I was just a fat one now with a new baby.

Here I sit with Nut, doing our morning routine, writing in the diary. Nut seems to be a magnet to just about anything. Kids, tween and teen girls, moms and grandma especially want to see the baby. I have no problem letting them look. Today, however, while sitting here, and older (sixty maybe?) woman approached.

“Oh, how precious!”

I smile and pop the iPod off my good ear so I can hear her a bit better; she looks at Nut leaning over the stroller. Then she turns to me and starts asking questions. Its not the fact that she is asking me questions that bothers me. It’s the fact that she is about 14 inches from my face that bothers me.

I lip read. You wouldn’t notice unless you knew ahead of time. This lady was so close to my face that it would have been very rude to look at her anywhere but in the eyes. I tried my best to lean my head back because 1) I could not see her lips and 2) she was totally in my space and freaking me out! I needed to give myself some breathing space, for lack of a better term. She just leaned further towards my face. For a second I thought maybe she was drunk. She certainty was acting that way. I take a big sniff of her breath as she prattles on about how cute Irish babies are. Nope. It’s clean. Maybe she was going to make her coffee Irish coffee.

We talk about Irish roots and make polite chit chat. She’s Irish (“100% and loving it!”) and loves babies who have the Irish Coloring. Then she does it. She reaches out and PETS.MY.HAIR. holding some up in the light.

WHAT.THE.FUCK?!?!

I understand that red hair is rare and I get that people love my long red hair. In fact, as much as I bitch about it, I get several compliments on it and it probably is my best feature. (Personally, I like my eyes better. They are really nice but who am I sot say?)

I am sure the expression on my face was priceless as, once again, I gritted my teeth and smiled. What is it about long hair and preggers people that people just have to violate the inner personal space? You don’t see me going up to her and saying “what beautiful split end, frayed like wig you have on!” and pet her do you?

People who try to pet preggers bellies and long hair, think twice before reaching out that arm. Ask permission because I think it’s perfectly justifiable to rip off your arm if you even try to touch me again.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Yes, I have a small penis

Tell me I didn’t just see what I think I saw. Please, for the love of god, say it ain’t so.

Bear and I were watching TV last night. I can’t even remember what we were watching, I just knew that we were caught up on the Tivo and so could not fast forward through the commercials. We sat there, watching the latest ads for McDonald’s (my, my… how we are trying so hard to clean up our ugly image after “Super Size Me” aren’t we?), iTunes and iPods, and other things we didn’t really need.

Then it comes on: two men, both buying groceries at the check out line. The one checking out is loading onto the conveyer belt healthy food. You know what it looks like: mostly veggies and fruit and a while brick of tofu. The guy behind him is kind of chuckling and loading onto the belt every type of red meat imaginable. Clearly the image being made is that the healthy guy is a pussy. Healthy guy isn’t too happy as he sees what meat guy is putting on the belt. He feels whipped. His eyes wander to… an advertisement on the magazine rack for a car.

Healthy guy quickly jumps in his car, drives to the nearest HUMMER shop, and quickly buys himself a hummer. As he is driving home in his new car, he takes a bit out of carrot or something.

The catch phrase to this commercial appears on the screen around him:

“RESTORE THE BALANCE.”

Oh.my.god.

You are shitting me, right?

“Restore the balance”?

I pause the Tivo and look at Bear. His mouth is gaping open and he has a puzzled look on his face. After a few seconds he says, “Does the Hummer Company realize that they just made the stupidest ‘I have a small penis and need to compensate’ commercial ever?!”

I start to laugh at that point. My thought was something along, “ok, you are eating better to prolong your life but destroying the environment that you live in.” I honestly wonder how long this commercial will last. I mean, when will advertising executives actually think about what they are doing? (if you want to see the commercial, go to the hummer website. I refuse to link it.)

I have had the experience of riding in a hummer only once. Unfortunately it was rather recently. Able Johnson came with Nut, Bear and I to metropolis for dinner after Bear and Able had a business meeting. We took his family’s hummer. The thing was gargantuan. I was literally pushed into it, as I am very little (barely over 5 feet) and the car was a monster to me.

I don’t understand the appeal of the car. It doesn’t get good gas mileage, you need a camera system to back up with the car, and it is not designed for the streets of America, it’s designed for the fucking military! So, I don’t understand why men go ape shit over such a car? After all, when driving down the street and seeing one, doesn’t EVERYONE think, “wow, what is he compensating for?”

What astounds me is after I see this commercial, I find that the evil clutches of the Hummer Automobile are beginning to infiltrate other areas and corrupt the youth of a nation.

Side bar: If McD’s really wants to clean up their image, is this that way to do it?

Ok, rant over. I am going to go eat my vegan meal, wearing my hemp clothes and then drive my prius to my tree to sit in. Long live the hippies!!

Friday, August 11, 2006

The invisable circus

The truth is that sometimes, no matter how far you go, how much you change; deep inside you are still the same fuck up as ever. This is a rationalization that I have recently come by myself. Shit happens. You deal. You try to change.

I have spent the better part of a decade now changing who I once was to who I wish I could be. After 10 years of this transformation something has dawned on me. You can’t escape who you are and who you are meant to be. I can try, but the truth is, maybe this is what I am supposed to do with myself.

I seem so odd these days. All in the dark and murkiness of madness. All of a sudden, everything is clear again.

Everything

Reason number 47 why my inlaws are not allowed to be alone with my son

My hand is bruised, cut and bloody when we leave the “after burial wake”.

Let me give you a disclaimer: I am not a violent person. I am a pacifist. I have been in fights, but they were defense fighting. I knocked my hubby unconscious once. He had cheated on me (before we were married) and that is the only time I have hit someone out of rage and not self-defense. I have seen what violence does to people. I have seen a side of people that I never really wanted to see. And I deal.

HOWEVER….

… Ignorant people really need to bitch slapped upside the head.

Picture this: me, sitting with the evil in-laws and in-law family, at a luncheon table. Bear, getting up to talk with his uncle at another table. Me, passing Nut around and even allowing the EFIL to hold him. As I eat and not say anything to anyone, I realize that the only people at the table not talking are my EFIL and I. He is looking at me expectantly, as if I am supposed to start a conversation. I look at him, with a look of, “what do you want?” on my face.

He starts, “soooo…. Rachel.”

What the fuck is hi s problem? It’s JOANNA!!!

“I heard your book was just published.”

“Yup.” I take a swig of my Illinois manufactured wine and shutter a little. Please, someone ship these folk something from the central California wine area.

“What’s it about?”

”Sexual Assault and Art therapy.”

“Hmmm…. So what made you chose that subject?”

There are many ways that I can answer this question. I could say that one in three women in the USA are raped. I could say that 80% of those women are under the age of 30. I could even tell him that 1 out of 10 assault survivors are actually men. I can say all these things but I tell him the truth.

“My friend was beaten and gang raped when she was 19 by some of her ‘friends’ after drinking at a party with them and going for a walk.”

(And it’s true, I wrote the book for her therapy and, yes, she was one of the volunteers.)

If you are someone who is sensitive to this subject, sit down. If you are a woman sit down. In fact, if you have any sort of conscious at all, sit down.

Now that you are sitting, keep reading…

His response, as he bounces my baby boy on his knee:

“Well, she is to blame for putting herself into that situation. I mean, getting drunk with a bunch of guys and then going off with them…” he shakes his head in disgust.

I see red.

I see white I am so angry.

My hand is closed so tight around my butter knife I feel as though I am going to break it into two pieces.

I can’t breathe. This man. This SON OF A BITCH has said the one thing that is my friend’s reason why she didn’t press charges. He has implied that it was her fault. He has implied she is to blame. This is a feeling that she has flip flopped on for a decade. In fact, although I tell her over and over that none of it was really her fault, she doesn’t believe me. And this motherfucker is bouncing my son on his knee.

I smile and grit my teeth. I slowly put down the butter knife and stand up. I go and grab my Nut out of EFIL’s arms. I smile again. I take my Nutter away from the EFIL and bring him to the Bear. I say nothing, just keep smiling. I leave Nut with Bear and go to the woman’s bathroom. It is deserted. I promptly lock my self in the stall at the end and sit down. I try to calm my self but all I see is the annoying self-righteous smug son of a bitch’s face. All I hear is the comment he made. I want to beat his fucking face in.

Instead, I just punch the wall about four or five times, as hard as I could.

My hand is bleeding when I am done and I go to wash it. small cut, nothing big. I feel a little better. I go back out and pick up Nut. Bear doesn’t notice my hand until we are in the car.

Now my hand is black and blue, but no longer swollen. This is a good thing. Means no broken bones.

I could have done many things in the room. I could have started screaming at him and what a naive ass he was. I could have thrown something at him. I could have stabbed him with a butter knife, or at least blinded him with one. I could have made a large scene. But instead I took my son away from EFIL. Why? If I made a scene, it would have embarrassed the Bear. If I stabbed him in the eyes with my butter knife, I would have been arrested. I do the one thing that I can only think is right: I take the Nut away from him.

I will not… I REFUSE… to have my son grow up thinking that men are better then women and can do what ever they want to them. My son will learn to respect women even if it kills me. Taking Nut away from a man who is so fucked that he would say something like that even though it is common knowledge that his own daughter was raped at a party is the only way that I can see as teaching him a lesson.

I don’t want to be vindictive but am I wrong to be thinking like this?

Thursday, August 10, 2006

"There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy."

Oh yes, putting the FUN back into funerals

The next day, a very jet lagged Bear, Nut and I race from Chicago to Downer’s Grove to the mass. Bear rushes inside with Nut and I take my time. It was so humid the buckle on my shoe s swelled shut. I was having issues and sorry, when you are wearing 4-inch heels, it’s good to have the buckle working. But noooo… the humidity wouldn’t allow it so I fixed it as well as I could.

When I get into the mass I realize, for the first time, that this is actually a military funeral. Turns out that Hank was in WWII. In fact, he was in D-Day. Wow. I am impressed. I always am impressed with soldiers. They have balls of steel.

While everyone was doing the “stand up, sit down, fight fight fight” thing of a catholic mass, I sat and bounced Nut on my hip. Sure I stood. Sure I sat. But I couldn’t kneel, not with a Nut. Instead, I looked at the stained glass window in the Joan of Arc Catholic Church. Interestingly noted was that many of the symbols in the window could double in Taoist and Pagan beliefs. And why was there a skull on the window? I snapped back into reality as everyone, but me of course, got communion. Then came the priest, blessing the coffin, which was next to Nut and me I might add, with incense.

“In other religions,” I whispered to Nut, “the smoke and the flame represents tow of the elements of the five needed to survive. It’s the fire and the air.”

As we followed the priest and the coffin, like lemmings to the sea, up to where the hearse was waiting, I wondered if the priest had anything else to add to the coffin. As the Army folks draped the coffin in a flag, the priest sprinkled it with holy water.

“The earth and the water, Nutter, the other two elements of the world. The last is your soul”

As the funeral procession pulled into the graveyard, I was intrigued that there was to be the 21-gun salute for Hank. It was beautiful. The army actually did an amazing job. I didn’t feel right putting a flower on the grave so I let Bear take Nut over and put flowers on the coffin before it was lowered into the grave.

And then it happened.

Nut projectile vomited.

Oh.my.god.

Luckily, he spit up on the grave next to hank’s. Can you imagine what would have happened if he puked on the coffin?

More to follow, including the reason for the bruised hand.

She smiles politely back at you. you stare politely right on through

It’s been a looooong day with many a conversation with the Moe, who offers good advice for people in need (thank you) so my summery of Chicago is more then likely going to be sporadic. Maybe I should tell you the story of how we went and viewed the body.

Yes, the body. This is my evil MIL’s father we are talking about. I have met him all of once. Yuppers, one time only, at my wedding, when I was truly and madly drunk as a skunk he was nice, I guess. But due to my MIL talking shit about me, I had no idea what to expect when I was going. After all, this was HER family.

We walk in to the funeral home and both realize that we are waaaay under dressed. Bear was in jeans and a t-shirt. I was in loafer pants and a bunny shirt that said, “I know just how you feel, I just don’t care.”

(Way to go, Jo!! Great way to be sensitive.)

Alas, the only thing that saves me is that I have the preverbal “golden Ticket.” I have the Nut in my arms, or as the EFIL says, “his favorite grandson.”

EMIL hugs me and says I look good. Trying to make amends are we? Somehow that crack about needing a paternity test for the baby comes screaming into my ears. She smiles politely at me. I stare right through it. I make nice, biting my tongue and saying nothing.

The body. All right, Hank looked NOTHING like I remember him. He had lost A LOT of weight. He had on A LOT of make up. He looked like a wax statue. Really, he did. Half of me expected him top open his eyes quickly and pop up saying to everyone “Psych!! Fooled ya!” or “heh, just kidding!” No such luck on that front though.

Bear and his dad kneeled together at the coffin and prayed as I stood back with the Nut and watched. I didn’t want to play nice with EMIL or her sister, who came up and kissed me and said, “I suppose you don’t remember me from the wedding.” (Yes, I do, you idiot.) What’s worse is that figging EFIL kept saying to people, "and this is my daughter in law, Rachel.”

Dude, its Joanna. No one but my grandfather calls me Rachel and sorry, you don’t get to be as cool as he was. I have to tell people, as I shake their hands, "uhh... it's Joanna." They, of course, can't seem to remember this fact five seconds after I say it.

I was worried that the impact of Nut seeing a dead body at his age might have some irreversible consequences on his psyche but in reality, will he remember this when he is grown? Will he even understand that he was looking at his great grandfather’s body? What will he think of this memory years and years from now? And the most important of all the questions, what do I do if he throws up on the body while we are here?

Lucky for me the latter part didn’t happen. I still kept him at least two feet away.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses.

Hit it.

Who created the highway system in Chicago? I mean, really? Lower whacker? Who the hell thought that up? I am sure it was a great idea in the long run but my god, Nut, Bear and I got so fucking lost because we didn’t realize that the streets are above and below.

An expressway is in a good idea, especially in a big city, but it was so annoying that we couldn’t figure out that on the map, they don’t frigging delineate the fact that the there is an express way maze below!!

ARRRUGH!!!!

Ok, but I do have to say that it was fun turning down the street and I began to hum the whole “Peter Gunn” theme in my head. All right, I hummed it out loud to make the Bear laugh. He needed to laugh. Really, he did. And so he did.

Another interesting thing was that at Grand Park (or is it grant?) lollapalooza was going on so we were treated to a lovely and beautiful concert of…

…The red hot chili peppers.

Yes. THE RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS!!!!

It was so fucking cool.

Nut is fussing and so I will never seem to be able to tell you the whole story of the trip in one sitting. Stay tuned, lots of happy and un-fucking-believable stories from the evil in-laws. Let’s put it this way. I wanted to punch out my father in law so badly I went into the bathroom and punched the wall so hard my hand is bruised.

Yes. Fun stories to follow.

I hate it when people want my advice on THIS subject.

What do I think?

Phone call this morning from a friend from school. She needed my “expert” opinion about another friend who is having an issue with her spouse.

Hmm… ok. When people in my field say they have a friend that has a question, they are doing either two things: the first, they have a client and they don’t want to break confidentiality but are out of ideas and the second, they are talking about themselves. More oft then not, it’s the latter of the two.

So friend A says to me that her friend (Friend B) thinks but isn’t sure, that something bad went down with her partner.

How bad?

Was totally drunk and was having sex with him, told him please don’t and then passed out. Partner continued to fuck her several times, to which she has no memory of because she was totally gone. However, partner says she was totally into it, moaning and everything and the “sex was great.” the next mornign, she wakes up very sore.

Hmmm….

Friend B is now really confused because she isn’t really sure what to make of it. Drunk… remembers saying please don’t (in reference to cumming in her, she thinks) and then nothing. It is like a huge blank in her head.

Where does my expert opinion come in? Was this sexual assault? Married, drunk, yes then no, no recall of it, very sore the next day, nothing really visible wrong…

I’m gonna have to say yes. according to several statics, including my book, 17% of all assualts are intimates (i.e. parnters,husbands, wives, boy/girl friends.

But friend B doesn’t really want to hear that because Partner is a really good guy and really loving and treats her like a princess. And they have been together for almost 10 years and have a child together. And if she can’t remember anything, how bad can it be?

Any one have an opinion on this?

home again

OK, home from Chicago now. very tired, jet lagged and hung over. it was interesting. lots of fun, lots of wierdness and lots of images being totaly smashed into a million peices.

to put it polietly, my image of my best friend in the world was ruined on this trip and I am so pissed off that I don't know where to begin. however, it being 1am, I think I better to go to bed for now. but I have lots of interesting stories and some are things that just can't be forgiven, I think.

shit, we'l see.

nighty night

Friday, August 04, 2006

yea!!!

My book came in the mail this afternoon. I love it. it looks really pretty. there is even a picture on the back. please note that when the photo was taken, I was a little... um... intoxicated. hey! it was the day after graduation and Moe's birthday party!! it's a nice photo. it's just a good thing all the beer bottles were edited out. hahahaha.

I rock.

If interested in getting a copy, email me, because it has my REAL name on it.

("What? Shock! Joanna isn't your real name?!?!")

Chicago

on the road again....

..... can't remember why I'm on the road again........

... oh yeah, funeral. Bear's grandpa. which means that I have to deal with his parnets all weekend.

this should be fun.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

small world

It’s a small worked after all! It’s a small world after all!

Ok, enough of that awfully annoying song. I just have a slightly humorous antidote from the job interview yesterday that I didn’t get around to telling because I was so (and still am) totally dumbfounded.

They say that everyone in the world can be related by six degrees. Six tiny, little degrees, and you can find anyone on the planet. I seem to be having a week of that. It started with asshole the cop at my conference. What were the chances? (For the record, I am not really sure what bothers me more; the fact that he was there at this conference or the fact that he is a fucking cop? I can get all just about it but in the end am I really going to do anything about it? No. And please don’t lecture me on the choice. all my brain will let me say about this at this moment it a quote: "The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect." and I am far from perfect and so is he.) Well, yesterday I go to talk to the Executive Director of the program to which they are looking to hire me into and guess what: I know him too.

I walk in and the face is familiar. He has brown hair, scruffy beard, beautifully dark brown eyes (all right I am a sucker for eyes). He looks like one of those hippie boys who are all rugged but have decided to shower and try to fit into a corporate world but aren’t doing the whole suit thing. He wore brown corduroys, button shirt, Birkenstocks… my kind of guy. I look at him and do a double take. He instantly recognizes me. It turns out that this guy is a great dancer too. It’s J from the other night.

Oh. Fuck.

“You! It’s you! I thought your name was Janet?”

“Heh, yeah… I never give out my real name in bars. It’s a safety thing.”

“Smart move”

(Whew!)

The interview was fun with him although it was a little weird. After all, I don’t deny it; I was flirting with him the other night!

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

reach down your hand in your pocket and pull out some hope for me

The Bear has dropped a bombshell. He no longer wants to fly jets. Hm. That’s interesting. The Bear ahs always been a jet man…and I mean ALWAYS. His parents rave about how he has known what he wants to do since he was a little boy. He went to school for it for fuck’s sake. And now… now he doesn’t want to be a pilot.

What does he want to do? He wants to move to Scarlet Wood. Buy a house; take in the beauty of small town living. He wants to get his MBA, which he never wanted before. I think that he doesn’t like me being more educated then him but that’s my personal opinion. Then… HE WANTS TO MOVE TO EUROPE.

I.AM.DUMBFOUNDED.

This is the discussion that we had the other night. Europe. And you know why?

“Because you have put your life on hold for me for so long that I think it’s time that I put my life on hold for you and we follow some of your dreams.”

Again, dumbfounded.

Yes, I have wanted to move to Europe for several years now. It’s part of the joy of being a duel citizen: I can work in the EU. What would the Bear do? Stay at home with the Nutter. Because “I realize now that there are more important things in life then money and success. Having Nut has made me realize that you and he are the best things to happen to me. If I don’t have you, well that’s a life not worth living.”

(All right, say it with me “awwwwwwwww”)

Personally, I think he is having a midlife crisis. He’s at the age for one. But who am I to tell? That, and now the Johnson’s aren’t sure if they are going to buy the company and so the company might just shut down. I think he’s panicking.

Oh yes, and the job interview today was interesting. Dude, the cops were there when I showed up! Why? The girls were being arrested. One of the counselors broke down and all hell broke loose. It’s benefited, 39 grand a year (in metropolis?!!) and it pays back the stipend. I am going to hate every minute of it but will more then likely take it if I have it offered just to get the fucking year done.

I am frustrated and depressed because I think that I am worth better then that I a while ago I decided to stop selling myself short. However, the catch-22 of the whole thing is “what if this is the best offer I get and I turn it down?” I don’t know what to do and that frustrates me to no end. And then I look at jobs in Europe. They start at 50K American. I am disgusted that America doesn’t see social workers and therapists for what they are worth. I am disgusted to live in this country.

Growl.

Oh, and Bear’s grandfather died this morning so he is trying to find meaning in that (“He got up, his wife went out for an hour and when she came home he was dead. What is the fucking point of that?”). Preaching to the choir on unjust deaths buddy. This is missingshosts.blogspot for a reason. I think he is freaking out because it is the second major death in his life. Me? Let’s count… Aunt, mom, Grandfather (x’s 2, but the mom side was more life changing for me. The one on my dad’s side was more life changing for Punk), Grandmothers, cousins, very good friends, teachers…. Yeah, welcome to my private hell.

It’s been a long day.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Perfection

None of my friends here in outskirts (or scarlet wood... well, mabye mari) understand the ups and downs of motherhood. NONE of them. they try, god bless them, but they just don't get it. HOWEVER, I find that Little I gets it.

Recapping the the Key Noteness and other random information

So where the hell have I been? Oh you know… here… there… mostly there. This past weekend was, thankfully, much MUCH cooler and Nut was much happier. And yes, I went to the Key Note thing. And yes, I did make an ass out of myself. Well, sort of.

The KN was ok actually. I was remarkably calm which is odd because I look forward to speaking in public almost as much as I look forward to going to the dentist. But here I was calm and relaxed. Maybe because this was my baby I was talking about. Touchy subject but as Militant Yuppie puts it, “No really Jo, you WROTE the book.” I find that funny. True, but funny.

I am introduced as “This lovely young (really? Young?) Woman has been a speaker as several (uhh… three) conferences, recently completed her Master’s degree and has written a book that is being released on sexual assault and the use of therapy. She is an award winner (are they talking about the stipend? The bane of my existence? The thorn in my side?), has had several journal article published in the research field (two) and currently doing research on the sexual deviances of men (damn you love child! They called ya didn’t they?). Please Welcome Joanna Joseph.”

Sidebar: how the hell did they get all that info? did they sleep with someone for it? well, who ever gave it to them better have given good head. :P

The speaking thing was actually pretty good. I used my typical power point that I use that has the volunteer’s art in etc. I am talking with an audience when all of a sudden it happens. Sitting about ten rows back is Mike. Yes, that mike. I literally stopped in the middle of my speech. Then I coughed, got a sip of water, and continued. He’s there with the police force.

He’s a fucking cop.

I still can’t get over this fact.

The second thing that happened in my speech is a little less nerve racking. The zipper on my skort broke. That was funny. I just thanked whatever deity let there be a podium in front of me. Later I got some safety pins, which kept popping (damn baby fat!!)

Afterwards, I had a bunch of people come talk with me and ask where they can find copies of my book. Included in those people? Asshole. He said nothing. He just gave me his AA chip and walked away. 5 years sober. Impressed? Sort of.

After I left I went across the street and had a drink with some really cool and hilarious people and laughed a lot. Just what the doctor ordered.

Yesterday’s job would have been perfect, if it weren’t 18.86 an hour and part time. That’s 29,400 dollars before taxes. Good grief. Job interview tomorrow (the second!) and right now it looks like that will be the one I take. Sigh. Working with kids again.