Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Spooge Pie and The Missing Monkey



Project Painting to the 80s is still under way. I just came downstairs to visit with y’all since I know you miss me. Heh.

Last night I bought some coconut cream pie for desert and the box clearly said KEEP FROZEN so I dutifully put it in the freezer when I unloaded the groceries (heh. I said “LOAD” hahaha). Inspired by Pisser’s Can’t Buy Me Love (Enchiladas) post, I decided to make cheese enchiladas. Not too shabby and I have to say, slathering sour cream on pretty much anything improves it’s taste by 32%.

My sister and I gabbed until my son’s 118th Moooooooom, when are we having piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee? finally got my lazy ass out of the chair and to the freezer. I could not even get the knife in to cut the fucking thing. It was coconut cream giant hocky puck pie. So I did what any self-respecting single mother would do…I nuked it.



What came out of the microwave was Spooge Pie.

*RETCH*

After one adventurous bite, my eyes got as big as saucers and I ran to the toilet and spit it out. Kinda reminds me of a romantic evening with the Manfriend. *snicker*

Riding the heels of failed desert, my son decided to go into fit overdrive. *Mental note: Never, ever, I repeat, NEVER, say Yes when your child asks if he/she can have a Mountain Dew.

We all need to embrace our inner 3 year old and he did so with fervor and passion. Stomping and running in place while whining

“I doooooonnnnnnn waaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ggooooooooooooooooo toooooooooooooooooooooooo beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!”

My breath became more labored, my eyes began to roll back in my head in search of my Happy Place. It wasn’t there. And neither was Monkey.

Monkey is one of four stuffed animals my son HAS to sleep with or else he literally will try to get the phone to call 911.



From left to right we have…

Ramona the Raccoon. This raccoon has a Spanish accent and when you squeeze it’s belly it says ”I am Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrramoooona, hasta la vista baby.” (Who ever was the content producer on these toys was not very creative by the way.)

DJ the Monkey. He’s real soft and apparently is Ramona’s boyfriend.

Whitey (Hey, HE named them, not I!) the Cat. When squeezed, Whitey will emit the loudest fucking Meow ever heard by human ears. Dogs in Phoenix start barking.

And last but certainly not least, there is Baby Bear. This is the bear I bought for my son 3 years ago for Valentine’s Day. I get him a stuffed animal every V-day, Sonic-Boom-Meowing-Whitey was this year’s gift.

For the next HOUR, we looked all over the goddamn house, high and low, cursing under my breath between griited teeth, praying to Goddess for the strength to get through this, (Patience where you be?!), dodging machine gun questions as I tear the house apart while my son follows with furrowed brow and wringing his little hands...I finally find Monkey stuffed neatly between the washer and the dryer half-wrapped in a towel looking rather comfortable and is that a smile I see on it's brown fuzzy face?!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I was spent.

I look at my son.

He looks at me.

He smirks.

I look at my son.

I am not amused.

“Ohhhhh that’s riiiight. DJ was tired so I put him in a blanket for a nap.”

“Well next time DJ needs a nap, put him in a bed like a normal person.”

“Mom…DJ is not a person, he’s just a toy. Even a kid knows that.”

I look at my son.

I can't think of a good come back.

“OK! Time for bed.”

Hey, it's as good as any. Right up there with my favorite come back "Because I said so." Man paybacks are a bitch.

I could have went there. I could have told him that Whitey is having an affair with DJ as shown below and will soon be featured on the next episode of Cheaters.



But it would have just been a low blow and gosh darnnit, I'm above that.

Monday, March 29, 2004

Proceed with Caution



I hereby declare that I am officially retarded. That's right. I admit it. Full on Short Bus material. I am selling my condo so I can move to LA and I have these minor things to do like put in baseboards and paint. Well I hired a handyman to do most of the stuff but decided to do the painting myself to save money.

People with ADD should not do such taks unsupervised. Easily distracted, I would find myself lipsynching Berlin's "Metro" into the paintbrush while new wave dancing at my reflection in the mirror and then snap out of it and scurry back over to the task at hand...then wonder if anyone emailed me since an hour ago so mosey on down to the computer where I end up fucking off for twenty minutes...and of course no one emailed...but I did discover that a sneeze travels out of the mouth at over 100 miles an hour. Whoa.

So I am on the counter painting with the roller thing and am bent over a little not realizing that my head is rubbing the top of the ceiling that I had just fucking painted so I have a white crown of goddamn paint on my head now. Oy.

As I type I have paint spatter all over me...oh that reminds me, I better get back to painting. I forgot why I came down here in the first place and look at that, another 20 minutes wasted. Jesus Krispey.

Friday, March 26, 2004

Twilight Zone



I had not heard from my man all day so I posted the last entry and was feeling better having had vented. Thank you Blogger. I hopped in my car and picked up my kid.

Not 5 minutes passed before the phone rang. It was him.

Weird.

*heart flutter*

*YAY*

*reminds self "You're not making your life about your guy."*

*He called*

*Huge smile*

*YAY*

(I know, I'm pathetic - bite me.)

Another weird thing, despite the cold weather, my son and I decided we wanted some ice cream so we were on our way to Baskin Robbins when he called. Turns out he took the day off and had been a sloth all day but was just about to do something productive...he was going to head out for some ice cream.

:?|

Doube weird.

It blows my mind that this weird mind-link stuff happens with us. Neither of us are in the habit of getting ice cream, it is totally random, what are the odds that we both decide to go out for ice cream at the same exact moment especially after not even talking all day?

Just freaks me out and these are the things that make me believe we are in fact soul mates and meant to be together.

I am still going to talk to him about this last week though so I don't spend next week mindfucking myself. Anyone know where I can get Mind-lube?

A Gherkin up my Ass?


I am officially in Trying-Not-To-Make-My-Life-About-My-Guy Mode.

I have gotten so caught up in the romance, attention and affection that I have gotten used to things being a certain way. Things that I need and deserve...things that have stopped cold turkey.

This past week has been Mindfuck Week. Had that great weekend with The Manfriend and then all week we have hardly corresponded. I don’t think we’ve even talked on the phone come to think of it. He hasn’t been his usual attentive self at all. So combine that with the snappy stuff going on over the last few visits and well, let’s just say that the honeymoon is over.

As much as I don’t like to think it, something is amiss. I sense it. I know he’s busy. I know he works all of the time…but something is amiss and it is eating me up inside. And yes we’ve talked about it. He is coming here tonight so let’s see how it pans out. My fears are it is either one of or a combination of the following:

1.) Now that he “has” me, he doesn’t feel he needs to put the same effort into the relationship/me. Why do guys do this? It is so idiotic which just confirms that men are stupid. What they don’t understand is if they stop putting the energy into us, they essentially stop being the person we fell in love with and then we end up torturing ourselves trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, who this person in our bed is and why we only “recognize” them part of the time. It just pushes us right the fuck out of the relationship.

2.) He has met someone else or reconnected with someone either in person or online or a both. This would explain the distance between us but I don’t think he is that kind of guy. Don’t know about “harmless” emails or IMing though…don’t know why he would need the attention from someone else, I give him enough. Needlesstosay, my hackles are up and claws out just in case.

3.) His heart just isn’t where it was. This would be the worst case scenario and if it’s true, I would just like to fucking know so I can move on with my life. Drown myself in vodka and casual sex until looking at a picture of him or seeing him online or thinking about him or something triggering a memory doesn’t make me want to slash my arteries and bleed out on his doorstep. (His cat would be thrilled I am sure. I could see that Orange Demon’s furry face now with its feline smirk as if to say “My plan has worked once again..another female bites the dust.”)

So his flight doesn’t come in till 9:45 tonight and then we have to haul ass to the city to catch The Church. God I was listening to their mp3s this morning, it will be weird to see them live, it totally reminds me of sophomore year in high school when I was in love with this mod boy. A mod/punk and a glam rocker...our love was doomed from the beginning. He loved The Church…I remember cutting class and listening to the cassette with him on my boom box behind a chinese restaurant in downtown San Rafael while smoking weed. Funny thing is My Man kind of reminds me of him…he was an artist too. Weird. Funny how we associate periods of our lives with the music we were into at the time and how certain bands will forever remind us of someone like fingerprints of our past.

Oh and I really hope he hasn't been reading this journal. I recall drunkenly checking my journal comments from his apartment and don't know if I cleared the history. Come to think of it, all this weirdness started after that trip. Hrrrmmmm...I hope he isn't reading this because that would be well...icky. But if he is, I love you honey and am just venting...as Brigette Jones (my fictional British twin) says, "It's just a diary...everybody knows that diary's are full of crap."

Stay tuned darlings...we will soon find out if the problem lies behind Curtain #1, #2 or #3 or if I just have a giant gherkin up my ass...news at 11.


Wednesday, March 24, 2004

This is a message from the Emergency Broadcast System


Potato Toe is back. Today at 3:45 p.m. it has been reported that Potato Toe allegedly reclaimed it’s place on Rachel’s foot.

That’s right. After being all cocky about New Toe, a goddamn chair fell on my foot today and blood spurted out from my fucking toenail…there is a hairline crack in the acrylic and the area around the nail is turning purple and not to mention it hurts like a sonofabitch and is throbbing and I am running too many words together in this sentence... MOTHERFUCKER!@#$@#!


Nothing can console me now but Smirnoff Ice.

*SOB*

When in Rome



The other day someone, who clearly demonstrated a low IQ and hefty amount of emotional baggage, called me a “knocker of cocks”. I found this to be very amusing because knocking cocks isn’t something I typically do (unless by direct request from main squeeze because I aim to please my man). I prefer to be gentle with The Cock, not knock it around. After all, we want to pamper that which gives us pleasure do we not? I don’t want to break it or anything, then I would be sad and would imagine single again.

Anyway, as you know I am moving to LA in a few months and since I am insecure and hungry for approval, I am going to get implants to fit in. When in Rome, right? Hahahaa OK I am just kidding. I have lost a total of 120 lbs over the last 6 years and it has been a struggle, let me tell ya’. I lost and gained, lost & gained, blew out my knees from overextending myself during weight training and finally shelled out 8K and went to Mexico to have my stomach banded in February of 2003. Basically I don’t eat bread, rice, crackers, things of the dry nature and it worked. So after major weight loss, a girl is entitled to a little self-absorbed materialism. I want boobs. Perky full bouncy boobs. Canons. Gozongers. Howitzers. Hoohas. I am going D cups. I am so excited and nervous at the same time. I went to my plastic surgeon yesterday and we are all ready to go. April 8th is the day. I am kind of scared because I do not have anyone to stay with me and care for me while I am recovering. I had my ex boyfriend to comfort and care for me the last few times I was through the hospital and although I have a boyfriend now, he lives 500 miles away. Part of me wishes he would insist on being here with me through it but I guess circumstances are just against the idea. Maybe that's one of the reasons I have been feeling so needy lately. Ugh. *shudder* If I say I am needy one more time, someone please bitchslap me.

The irony in this breast aug surgery is 4 years ago he is the same doctor who removed my implants. That’s right, I had implants before. When I was a dancer (nope I wasn’t always fat, I can thank pregnancy and an abusive marriage for that) I got them and when I got fat, they were enormous. Then one ruptured. I remember wondering why I was so bloated and wasn’t that time of the month and then I woke up one morning with a flapjack on my left side. *Aaaaaaaaaaaaaack* Had those puppies removed that week. So now I am coming back to get more put in. I hope when I’m older I don’t end up like the Beverly Hills plastic surgery zombies in Escape from LA.

Sunday, March 21, 2004

Perfectly Imperfect



The weekend started out fairly rocky. The man friend had a hectic week of work, both day job and freelance so things were a bit distant; which is fine, I am not the type of girl who needs to be with or validated by her boyfriend constantly. I appreciate my own time to work, study, do whatever as much as the next person but I was missing him since my soul sucking job blows and being with him on IM is really the only thing I look forward to during the work day…but alas, we hadn’t really talked on the phone all week and he wasn’t his usual fun & attentive self on IM; hence making me feel ashamedly needy. Ugh. I hate even admitting it but it’s true I was feigning the Everything’s ok front but inside all I wanted was for him to be Mr. Romantical-Attentive-Sweetheart-Boyfriend.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was ready to see him. I was so excited to just be together and hang out, be in his arms and shut out the rest of the world and all my troubles for an entire weekend. But traffic threw a wrench in my plan. By the time I arrived at the Oakland airport, the traffic was so bad getting into the airport, it took me 25 minutes just to get to the fucking sidewalk of the airport where he was waiting, then another good half hour of inching along out of the airport to the freeway. I felt like killing someone. Both of us tend to get cranky and quiet when we are hungry so basically that whole time was spent in silence. By the time we finally got the restaurant, we both felt like we were going to pass out, kill someone or scream. Seated and bread in hand, his Normalcy-Meter started to rise but I was still in Famine-Mode since I don’t eat bread. So we ordered drinks and an appetizer. Poached lobster on whipped potatoes and I got a chocolate martini (which this joint is supposed to be famous for). The drinks come and as soon as I put my lips to my drink, he says “Baby, that looks disgusting.” He said it with so much disgust that it offended me and I set the drink down and said “Gee thanks.” Then he said something to the effect of it not being personally towards me but I was already irritated by traffic and hunger and annoyed that he would say something like that AS I was ingesting it and was now in Shut Down Mode. The appetizer came and it was horrifying. It looked like someone had skinned and sliced a vagina up and set it on top of mashed potatoes with a frig of parsley on top. Feeling as if I would barf, I made the waiter take it away.

*awkward silence*

*random meeting of the eyes and looking away*

*looking around the restaurant but not at each other*

The food finally comes and during the meal, for the first time ever, we really had nothing to say to each other. The weekend prior he had snapped at me a few times and I think when he started snapping at me again on this night, it all sort of came up like boiling kettle. He snapped at me a few times over dinner and I was just pissed off. All I could tell myself was “I am not going to tolerate this in my life.” But I didn’t say anything. I was quiet and when we got to my place, I did laundry and went to sleep. It was very uncomfortable.

I woke up early, around 7:30 on Saturday which is something I never do but I needed some Me Time. I did pilates, went to tan, got us frappacinnos, took a shower and got ready for the day. I woke him up and was very nice to him, trying to start over and have a nice weekend. He responded as I hoped and we went to eat and then to the movies. We saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind with Jim Carrey and it was amazing. If you didn’t like Being John Malkovich or Lost in Translation, you probably wouldn’t like this movie either but we loved it. Kate Winslet's character is named Clementine and well, I won’t ruin the movie for you guys but it touched me so much that I am going to name my baby girl kitty after her. Clementine. Awwwwwwww. You know, I was really tripping out because this movie had a message for me. I left with the same message as I got from the psychic reading. It is as if life is screaming for me to hear a message: Focus on now and appreciate what you have in the here in now instead of focusing on what is or might go wrong. That’s the message I got from the movie, despite what you know about a person, it doesn’t matter, appreciate them for who they are and enjoy them if you choose to have them in your life.

Do we really know how to enjoy each other? Do we get caught up in pointing fingers or sacrificing or being selfish? What is it truly mesh with another human being without all the bells and whistles? Who knows. I am sure it’s different for all of us. For the rest of the weekend, we just had fun together doing nothing. We saw a total of 5 movies, 3 in the theater, one rental and one PPV. Being with him, feeling safe and warm, my feet in his lap in the darkness of the theater, stealing glances at his kind face as he watched the screen, feeling his fingers interlacing mine, no agenda, no commitments, just being. Together. In love. In it's imperfection. I couldn’t think of one thing I would change. It was perfectly imperfect.

Things started off rocky but maybe for a reason. Maybe life is telling me to slow down and smell the roses. Maybe all this change I am preparing myself for has become too much of a focal point and I am not really seeing what’s there in front of me. Seeing what’s there in it’s totality, the positive and the negative, because love is unconditional and as much as we seek it, how many of us are truly capable of it ourselves and if we are, do we truly give it to the ones we love?



Friday, March 19, 2004

Heebie Jeebies



As I mentioned in my last entry, I went to see a psychic. Um, whoa. Typically I take this sort of thing with a grain of salt. I have had maybe 4 readings in my life and have gone with a friend for fun but this lady freaked me out. I am in the middle of the biggest crossroad in life that I have ever had to deal with. Change of career, moving, new relationship, my son…everything hangs in the balance of my choices and I want them to be good ones. Problem is I second guess myself so much that I get turned around and don’t know which direction to go. I needed some clarity. Why not, right? So I went and after 98 minutes, I came out drained and eyes puffy from crying. It was the best therapy of my life and trust me folks, I have had a lot of therapy in my day.

She did my numerology first. This is based on the numbers in your birth date. Totally accurate. She told me what I have been going through over the last 2 years and that things are going to settle down by next year. The hard work will all start to pay off. Then she asked me why I was there. I asked direct questions without giving too much in formation. Such as, Is my decision to move out of the area the right decision for me and my son? Is my son going to be ok? Is my current boyfriend my soul mate? Etc. Her answers were kind of general at first but then she busted out with some incredibly accurate and detailed information.

It all didn’t really sink in until yesterday and it still is settling. Not only was she completely accurate with what was going on with me and the people in my life but she explained things to me about myself such as my always questioning and second-guessing myself, about people in my life and gave me suggestions on how to cope with it all. There are dynamics in my family that I have perceived for a long time and no one else does but she validated that I am right and that they will never change and the situation will always be toxic therefore putting distance there is important. She validated that my move was a good decision for me and my son but that she doesn’t see me being in LA forever, she sees me there for a while and then moving on somewhere else, not back up north, not near LA, possibly out of state; which I highly doubt because I have never had the desire to move out of California. She said I will do this with my Forever Mate.

She gave me exercises to do to deal with my feelings and attain closure with those in my life who cannot give me what I need such as my mother. In a sense, she showed me a way to let go of my desires/expectations of what I need from others and accept them as they are or let them go. As far as friendships go, I asked her if I was too militant with the way I deal with those who I see red flags from. She was adamant about letting me know that I am absolutely doing the right thing for myself and that my intuition is never wrong. If I continue to allow negative people in my life, the negative energy they produce will hinder me from growing and channeling positive energy from the Universe. (I know this sounds so hippy dippy but I am identifying with it because I believe this lady is the real deal.) She explained to me that I am in a very important and intense time of change and reflection in my life. I need positive energy around me and need to trust my instincts. I desire quality not quantity which is so true. She said that the people who I sense are not viable relationships are not bad people but at a different place spiritually and I simply must move on from them. This is kind of hard for me to believe in because I feel very strongly about being accountable for your actions and words. I have very low tolerance for people who are jealous, two-faced, shit talkers, manipulative and selfish. I find these people to be the bottom-feeders of the social world but she’s right, this creates bitterness and negative energy so I need to simply dismiss them from my life and move on without engaging in (thereby feeding) their negativity.

She said that I am a light healer which means that I was meant to be of service to others in some way, involved in healing and that I had a strong 6th sense about others. Trust it always she said. This trips me out because as you know, I have spent the last 3 years struggling through college while working full time and raising a little boy so that I can one day become a psychologist, specializing in self-esteem, weight issues and sexual dysfunction. She said that my change in career is needed so I can focus on myself and my son but that I should not turn my back on my soul’s desire to heal others. She suggested I get my certificate in a healing procedure specialty such as hypnotherapy. She also suggested that I incorporate healing techniques in my real estate practice such as learning feng shui and blessing the homes for my clients. I will be successful in whatever I put my mind to she said because I am a strong soul and have many angels with me all of the time, watching out for me. This is a little freaky because I don’t like the idea of a bunch of invisible people hanging out while I take a shower or a dump or do the nasty, ugh, or when I do the nasty by muhself. It is well, quite frankly, a mood killer.

She said my son is smart and very sensitive. He needs me and needs me to be with him. I knew this already and what kid doesn’t need their parent right? But she went on to say that for the last three years (the exact time I have been in college and working mind you) I have been so all over the place and stressed that I haven’t been present. This is SO true. She said this is a time of attaining patience and peace.

She said that my boyfriend and I are soul mates who have been lovers in a past life and also comrades in arms in another (which is weird because we love to watch war shit together). She said that we all have numerous soul mates; we all have soul groups, people who we always connect with in each of our lives. One life, you may be Father-Daughter, in other lovers, in another business partners but we always find each other in each life and continuously learn from each other. She said if you are with your soul mate, that doesn’t mean you are destined to be together forever. She told me all about the three things that make me doubt our longevity as a couple. This freaked me out because all I asked was Is my current boyfriend my soul mate? Then she asked what his full name was and thought for a minute…she looked at me with a smile and said “He truly loves you, ahhhhh, he has a good, good heart…he truly SEES you, for the first time a man really sees you.” then she went on to describe my deepest fears about our relationship. It gives me chills to think about it even now. She said her visions are not set in stone, things can always change, it just takes a choice but that choice has to be made b y him. I cannot fix him or make him change he will need to do that on his own or he lose me eventually. This makes me deeply sad because on one hand, she gives me good news about the one thing I have desired since I was a little girl…I have found my soul mate. Even better news, he loves me genuinely and unconditionally. Furthermore, he sees me for who I am completely but oh hi, here’s the inevitable “BUT”… there are three problems that if not overcome, will ultimately doom our relationship. But she also did say that if he did overcome these issues, we would be Forever Mates. I really truly hope the latter will come true because I’ve never known love like this and I can’t fathom the sorrow and despair of not being with him. In any event, she told me that we both will learn huge things from each other about ourselves and life. We will be landmarks in each others lives forever.

Am I taking her words as gospel? No. Am I going to let what she told me dictate my actions? No. What did I get out of it? I got the clarity I was seeking, it has given me the validation that I needed and I gained a positive perspective with which I can effectively use to put my plan into action without doubting myself.

If you’ve made it this far, you either think this is really interesting or are laughing your ass off that I am buying into it. Either way, one thing I hope you take from this entry is to appreciate what and who is in your life at this moment. Honor them, don’t take them for granted because we all meet for a specific purpose, to learn from each other.

So have a nice day my friends...I am going to go grow my armpit hair out now and buy some Birkenstocks.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Fucking Bad Ass Motherfucker



That's me. I am one bad ass motherfucker.

I am not the casual procrastinator. I am like the Terminaprocrastinator. I put the shit off till the last minute and then I turbomultitask and get loads done to the point where I amaze even myself.

So I blew off history and speech class today and instead accomplished the following:

1. Wrote entire term paper on Foot Fetishism: A Dangerous Paraphilia? including the bibliography, thank you very much.

2. Cleaned entire house, both levels, including bathrooms and floors.

3. Plucked eyebrows into naughty arches.

4. Tanned (skin on ass now acclimated to freakishly hot Orbit bed - phew).

5. Went to the store and bought $50 worth of shit I didn’t need along with the SoftScrub with lemon which was the ONE thing I went to get in the first place.

6. IMed at length with awesome-sweet-charming-lovemonkey-boyfriend to make sure he is in fact not tweaking out on the relationship (distance sucks folks) and he is in fact not tweaking out, I was (naturally - fucking chicks).

7. Did Pilates (ok half my usual routine but at least I did SOME of it).


Things still on the To Do List:

1. Go to porn shop to pick up X rated items to dazzle said awesome-sweet-charming-lovemonkey-boyfriend when he gets here this weekend because let’s face it folks, there is nothing else to do in CowTown but screw so might as well be creative.

2. Pick up Holly at 4:45.

3. Drive into the city.

4. See psychic for $100 an hour (fuck I forgot to buy a blank audio cassette for her to record our session on – add to list) and see what lies in my future.

5. Go have a St. Patty’s Day drink with Holly.

6. Be home at a decent hour because my korcausian ass has to work in the morning.

I am kind of excited to go to the porn store. I wonder what last minute impulse item I will purchase…maybe I should also stop by the outlets and pick up some cute strappy shoes since the sun is out now and we all know how much New Toe likes to show off!

HAPPY ST. PATTY’S DAY MY FRIENDS!!! and yes I am wearing green today so no stupid fucking pinches for me.


Monday, March 15, 2004

The E True Hollywood Story: Potato Toe



In September of 2003 I went to Sacramento to see a girlfriend of mine for some dancing and debauchery. As ever, I was dressed up, drunk and in a mad rush to get more beer before 2:00 a.m. so we hauled our hookered-out asses on over to the Shell station where we picked up two cases of Corona. As we were running back to my hotel room as fast as my 6” clear stripper open toed shoes would carry me, my left foot rammed directly into a section of sidewalk that was jutting up from the pavement. Tumbling over, I held the case of beer over my head and did not break one bottle. *cheers* But did damn near break my left big toe. It hurt for a minute but the alcohol numbed all pain and we partied till the wee hours of the morning.

The next day, I thought I was going to die. My head and my left toe were throbbing; the toe was purple and caked with dried blood. It hurt. A lot. I waited a month before taking the polish off and was horrified by what lay underneath. It was black and was loose on the nail bed but not quite hanging off. If I wore closed toed shoes, I would die so I faired the cold Northern California weather in open toed shoes. Finally in November, the night before I was to meet my current man friend in person, Left Toenail fell off. I won’t get into what activity I was immersed in which caused said toenail to be torn from the nail bed but let’s just say it came off quickly and painlessly at the time. *heh* What lay beneath was a frightening sight. It was Frankentoe. Stretching from the cuticle over about a quarter of the nail bed was a warped fledgling toenail. Unsure of what it was supposed to do, just there, growing like some mutant, some separate entity on my body, a parasite and I‘m the host to this foreign body. I missed my cute normal toenail, what was I going to do now? Every time I go out, I wear open toed shoes! How was I going to cope with this monstrosity? *sob*

My boyfriend thinks feet are cute and he named the Mutant Toe, Potato Toe; which I thought had a better ring to it. So I became one with Potato Toe. We dined together, danced together, we shared some laughs. But all good things must come to an end sometimes. While in LA over the weekend, my friend Erika and I went to her nail salon to have our toes done. Erika suggested they build me a new toenail. Whoa! So, the docile Vietnamese girl who started my pedicure pulled out her acrylic kit and goodbye Potato Toe.

She was so gentle with the motorized file blaster and I was amazed at her delicate and expert shaping of New Toe. She was a little surprised when I started taking pictures…


We can rebuild it...


Best goddamn foot massage this side of the Mississippi...


All done! Purdy toes in an hour - tadaaaaaaaa!

Honorable mention pic from the weekend...

Erika's gratuitous rack! Yes, they're real...yowza!

It was a long hard road and I will miss Potato Toe but in the end, it is better for everyone this way. Now I can wiggle my toes in public with pride and appreciation for New Toe and not hide in shame with Potato Toe.

Potato Toe will be missed.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

Moving on Up



I haven’t done shit all day but fuck around on AIM and look at fetish porn. I love legs. Man. Whew. Gimme a tall drink of water with nice full lips and a purdy smile and I am a happy girl. Honorable mention for nice racks btw. *ahem* Thank you ALT+TAB keys for painlessly switching my screens to the open Excel spread sheet I have up as a cover when people walk into my office. *mwuhahahaha* Man good thing we don’t have in house IT people here or else I would get busted for looking at porn at work. Hey I can’t help it, chicks are so niiiice to look at and I get bored and lonely. *hehe*

The phone rings during the 30 minutes once a week I have to cover the switchboard and of course, as luck would have it, I get the one fucking nut job calling:

“Ramona?”

*static blaring over line*

“No Ramona here, wrong number.”

*click*

*ring*

“*name of company*, how may I help you?”

*eyes rolling because I can hear the static*

“Ramona?”

“NO RAMONA HERE SPARKY. YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER!”

*click*

*ugh*

*ring*

“Fucking hell brains.”

“*name of company*, how may I help you?”

“...*static*...YOU FUCKING WHORE.

*click*

*laughing uncontrollably*

What the fuck? Just because HE has the wrong number, I am a whore? Sorry but you dropped your issues. Geez. I wanted to call back and ask him if I was the whore or Ramona was the whore because obviously if he spoke english well enough to know what a "Fucking whore" was, he would understand "No Ramona here, wrong number.", wouldn't he? I felt like I needed clarification and if it was Ramona who indeed was the fucking whore, what happened? Did she fuck his brother? His sister? is gramma I felt inclined to know having suffered the mental anguish of the traumatic phone attack. Inquiring minds wanna know dammit!

Oh and yesterday I get this call from a tenant (I am operations manager for residential and commercial properties so basically what that means is I keep shit organized and when the managers can’t handle someone, I get to deal with them) in one of our low-income housing buildings and she sounded exactly like the “Weee-woooo” lady in Kung Pow: Enter the Fist so already I am trying not to laugh:

“Hello, this is Rachel.”

“Yes hello uhhhheeeeee are yoouuuu ebicting me?”

“What unit are you in?” *checks* “No ma’am, we are not evicting you. You paid your rent.”

“Yes but uhhhhheeeee are youuuu ebicting me?”

*sigh*

“No ma’am, why would I evict you if you are current with your rent?”

“My uhhheeee apartment is bery dirty.”

*Is she kidding me?*

“Ok, well, by law no landlord can evict a tenant for poor housekeeping ma’am. In the event you move and we need to clean and repair damage to the unit, those costs will be deducted from your security deposit but we…”

“Uhhhheeeeee will you inspect my apartment please?”

“You want me to inspect your apartment for what?”

“To see if it’s dirty.”

“You just told me it’s dirty.”

“But I want to make sure you aren’t going to ebict me.”

*sigh*

“I am not going to evict you.”

“When will you inspect?”

“I will send someone over in an hour.”

“I want you to come.”

*sigh*

“Ma’am I am one hour north of your location and could never get clearance to go out in the field to simply look at a dirty apartment.”

“Are you ebicting me?”

*sigh*

“Ma’am I have work to do and I am hanging up now. Have a nice day and all you need to do is clean up your apartment for your own peace of mind.”

Jesus.

As some of you know, I am moving to LA in June (I already told you why Pisser so don’t even start with me *smirk*) so I was writing out my plan (fuck off I’m a Virgo, I can’t help it but be annoyingly organized) and realized that I am making things really hard on myself and my kid. In his short 6 years of life, he has experienced a divorce (I left the asshole sperm donor when he was 11 months old, didn’t want my kid to grow up learning that it was ok to beat women up and to this day he only bothers to see his kid maybe 8 times a year at best), a break up (the only Dad he has ever known, he was with us since he was 2, we broke up in November of last year), the rehoming of a cat (dumbass me bought a Bengal that loved to shred your skin), and 2 dogs (first dog was also psycho and a runner, gave him to a lady who has a farm and second dog my ex took with him when he moved out – without asking mind you) and now he will be moving away from his grandparents who have been very involved in his life since we moved back in 1998, leaving his daycare where he has been since he was 2 and his school…it sucks.

I know life is hard sometimes and change is necessary at times but I cannot shake the guilt. I picture our life when we move. I have 5 years of college left to attain my PhD in psychology so I would have to take a 14-unit schedule year-round, work part time (at least 32 hours a week) and still find the time to spend with him and do homework; which makes spending time with him sound like a job and that in itself sucks sweaty balls. I have been able to swing school & work till now because my folks have helped me out with picking him up and babysitting. I won’t have that anymore and I will be damned if my kid is going to sit in school then daycare from 8:10am to 6:00pm five days a week and then only have a few hours with his mom before she has to start doing homework. Nuh uh, fuck that. He isn’t going to be little forever. He needs me now, especially now that I have decided to change our lives so drastically by moving.

I did a lil' Q&A with myself and I decided to switch gears. It went a lil' somethin' like dis. Hit it.

What is most important? My kid is.

What does he need? He needs me, my time, my support and love.

What can I do to give that to him? Be there.

How? Put school on the shelf and find work that allows you to have more control over your life.

What kind of work? Stick with what you know.

Whoa.

Main Points of Q&A

  • My kid is most important.

  • School will always be there. I can always go back.


  • I have been involved in the real estate business for the last 6 years.


  • I am a people person.


  • I am motivated as all hell to succeed in whatever I put my mind to.


  • *drumroll*

    So I decided to get my real estate license. This will afford me flexibility of schedule so that I can have time to spend with my son and once I get on a roll with it, if I do want to go back to school, I can. Just the thought of being able to sign him up for soccer and be able to take him myself every practice & game is well, it makes me misty just thinking about it, folks.

    I am going to finish out this semester of college and get the online study real estate books, take the test and hopefully get hooked up with a good firm. I've heard the test is hard but I know some real idiot agents so if those fuckwits passed it, my Dean's Highest Honors List winning ass can certainly do it too.

    Luckily I know some really successful agents up here so I am crossing my fingers that they can hook me up with someone in LA who wouldn’t mind showing me the ropes.

    So that’s what’s new with me folks. Lots of big changes to come and I will keep you posted on the carnage I leave in my path. >:?)

    Wednesday, March 10, 2004

    Frienemies


    I find it ironic that after I write about my Code of Sisterhood (which has taken me 15 years to organize into coherent thoughts, mind you) I have a weekend full of code breaking traitors, directly and indirectly.

    I am not going to bore you all with details but after spending a considerable amount of time on the phone with a friend of mine, hearing about her code breaking friend and repeatedly doling out my insightful and incredibly valuable advice *ahem* (which typically consists of no more than the simple yet effective “Fuck that."), it suddenly occurred to me, these Code Breakers are one of two types.

    The Insecure Attention Monger:

    These girls put all else aside when men are around. It doesn’t matter if they are their men or someone else’s men, including your man, who happens to be off limits obviously. The flirtation, sexual innuendos, spike in talkativeness, suggestive displays of cleavage and bedroom eyes all go into active play for attention from men, at any cost, including upsetting their own girlfriends.

    The Conniving Competitor:

    This one is dangerous because she doesn’t need the attention from guys to make herself feel better; she needs to make sure she has beaten you in her imaginary competition. She will even resort to making comments to embarrass you in front of other people or not tell you that you have pepper stuck between your front teeth. She competes because when you are down, it makes her feel superior.

    Any way you dice it, it sucks. Grow the fuck up or back the fuck up.

    Have you heard the saying "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" I know women who play by this rule. A good friend of mine has a ton of friends, I’ve never known someone who knows so many goddamn people but she has only a handful she trusts. I hear about some of the things these girls do to her and I am floored that she would even call them Friends. She said, “I don’t, they’re frienemies. You can’t keep an eye on them if they aren’t close by.”

    Hmmm. I can respect that but…uhhh…Fuck that. If I know I cannot trust a person, I don’t want them anywhere near me. Although I do know people who aren’t worth a shit and I have to keep an at least somewhat friendly front going because we share mutual friends. What a pain in the ass. So for my friends, by request, I am not mean. And let’s face it, sometimes it’s fun to be mean to people who you know deserve it. Well, at least if you’re ballsy and don’t mind dishing out a little truth now and then. I find this to be a very amusing activity when I can gain a little justice for a friend who is too goddamn nice to ever stick up for herself. *sigh*

    All in all, I know who my true friends are, I know I am a true friend and I cannot wait to move down to LA and be closer to the girls who are worth the energy, girls who make girlfriends worth all the goddamn trouble, girls like Kelly, Erika, Kristina and Rika. Hopefully my new friend Rachel will still be in LA or at least come back to LA so I can continue restoring her faith in girlfriends and we can bring down the fuckwits and cuntrags of Hollywood together like the Wonder Twins. *wink* Watch out for Dual Rachels...a force to be reckoned with no doubt.

    I said the following to a friend last night:

    If you put yourself out there and you get burned 9 times, but the 10th time you make a true friend, those 9 times you got burned were worth it. It’s just a matter of how many times you are going to allow each of those other 9 to burn you.

    Rachel has spoken. That is all.

    Thursday, March 04, 2004

    Title Schmitle



    I was reading Her Royal Highness Princess Pissypants of Catbutt’s blog this morning and let me clarify my "Code of Sisterhood" does not apply to lame stupid bitches ‘cuz at the end of the day, I am selective about my friends and well, stupid bitches are stupid and stupid people annoy me. I tend to befriend chicks who are more like guys…chicks like me...but also at the end of the day, we are still chicks and no matter how well we get along with men, they are another species and we need to stick together.

    So moving on, I went to tan for the first time in almost 5 months since I have been trying to budget my money after kicking The Ex to the curb and had to get rid of certain guilty pleasures like tanning and maid service *sob*. Well, the lack of tanning has left me pale and that leaves every scar and stretch mark visible like it's being displayed for the world to see under horrid flourescent lighting like they have at Ralph's...so I bought 10 turbo tans in The Orbit. This machine tans you in 12 minutes as a regular bed would in three 20 minute sessions...fucken a, sign me up! So I bought 10 and after shelling out the HIGHWAY ROBBERY price for them (still not as gay as the lame spray on tan so widely popular in LA), I had my 12 minute Orbit baking session and have fried my ass so bad that the skin is raised. It literally hurts to sit down and I am sure if anyone sees my grimace as I ease into my chair, they will probably think I have really bad hemorrhoids. I hope I don’t come in tomorrow to find a tube of Preparation H on my desk or a floral donut shaped pillow on my chair.

    On my way back from the tanning salon, there was traffic which pisses me off to no end because I live in Cow Town and Cow Towns don’t have traffic, mmkay? I mean we have a fucking DUCK CROSSING for fuck sake, like there is no crying in baseball, there should be no traffic in Cow Town. Creeping along while cursing rubberneckers and sucking down my soy white chocolate mocha, I get closer to the hoopla and notice cop cars and an ambulance…and as I pass by, I slow down to 2.4 miles per hour as I ogle at the pedestrian who got hit by a car and was laying in a pool of blood on the crosswalk. So I have come to the conclusion to forgive rubberneckers because they can’t help it. It’s like when you see a dead animal on the side of the road, you don’t wanna’ look but ya’ gotta’ look…it’s an involuntary impulse. So I have decided I am going to save my middle finger for more deserving idiots like people who drive under 65 mph in the fast lane, people who come to a complete stop at yields (it’s yield which means slow down and let assholes go first, not STOP and sit there till next Wednesday), fucking idiot driving students in the gay cars with two steering wheels, teenie boppers who have their music so loud they can’t hear you honking your horn after the light has turned green yet they are still sitting there bc they’re too busy singing Justin Timberlake’s new cheese single into each other’s closed fists like they’re on American Idol, and last but certainly not least, I will save my middle finger for the gross guys who think that catcalling, wolf whistles and flicking their tongue between their fingers are mating calls.

    Now back to regular programming.

    Monday, March 01, 2004

    You are the woman I trust...and it's candy.


    You know, between work, school, homework, my kid, the manfriend, friends and traveling up & down the great state of California on the weekends, I hardly have time to write here and it’s starting to piss me off. I bust my ass all week long, I give and give and give, is it too much to ask to have one little vice, one small thing that is just mine, on my terms and no one else’s? Is it so much to ask to get a little ME TIME up in here? A few weeks ago, if you would have asked me if I would have considered this as being "me time", I probably would have laughed in your face. Funny that it has grown on me so much and even though there are like 4 regular readers, I love you guys *sniff sniff*...see, I'm getting all misty now.

    Is it a bad thing to be laying in post-coital bliss beside hot man flesh and suddenly becoming overcome with an incredible desire to sashay you’re just-been-laid ass down to the computer to BLOG?? One would think one would want to lay in arms of said hot man but no, all I could do was think about how long it had been since I could blog. Where the fuck does the term “BLOG” come from anyway? It sounds like some bad B movie THE BLOG *insert overacted café latte curdling scream* or some incurable venereal disease.

    I like to think of myself as a fairly empathetic person, I mean, come on, I am going through 8 years of college to be a goddamn psychologist for krissakes but I find myself being tickled by other people’s misfortune such as the people who get the crotch of their pants soaked with the 5 billion ton water pressure airport bathroom sink faucet…or when people trip when hustling by on their merry way…or the fact that my boss had shoulder surgery last month and has been walking around with his arm bent in a 90 degree angle and perched on this surgical pillow which resembles a breast feeding pillow that is strapped to him with enough Velcro to restrain King Kong. I know it’s bad but every time he walks by my office, I have to snicker inside because it looks so goddamn ridiculous. It’s almost as bad as head gear kids with braces had to wear before braces got all high tech and as costly as buying a Geo.

    Speaking of kids, last Tuesday I took my son to the roller rink where he got to hook up with about 10 baby-chicks in his class for inline skating and Red Light Green Light. Man, that kid is quite the ladies man! They all ran over to him and started their high pitched hen clucking before he could even get his roller blades on…oh sorry, inline skates , ‘scuze me, they aren’t roller blades . Sheesh, when did I become unhip? As per instruction of my little person, I stood on the sidelines in the shadows where kids who don’t want to be embarrassed by the presence of their elders put their parents with a guy who looked like Mr. Lehman, my 7th grade Spanish teacher. There was whole hell of a lot going on in my little head. First of all, this is the very same roller rink which was the pinnacle of my prepubescent social life. The very same roller rink that my 13 year old reasoning skills settled on being the lucky location for my first ever overindulgence of alcohol resulting in my barfing all over my skates and the southeast corner of the rink right in front of Tony White, the cutest 8th grader that ever was. Death and destruction to the musical stylings of Def Leppard. As I was strolling down Memory of Teenage Horror Lane, kids were swooshing by me all smiles, laughter and the overproduced stylings of Linkin Park filled the air…then a terrible slamming of bodies and plastic wheels and I was front row. It was fucking great (and don't worry, no kids were hurt in the making of this recollection). 8 kid pile up and I am still kicking myself in the arse for not having a camera. My knees literally got weak as I doubled over in laughter while watching these kids’ faces morph from joyous smiles to “Oh crap! O faces” when they saw the kid in front of them topple over and eat shit in front of them, whirl their arms backwards while leaning back like some Charlie Chaplin skit and then inevitably ramming straight into the pile o' tots. Mr. Lehman did not approve of my obvious amusement but I really couldn’t help it. I still cannot refrain from impending chuckling when my memory processors flash these images in my mind’s eye. What was my horror to Def Leppard is this generation’s horror to Linkin Park. See, it all cycles through for all of us and that makes me feel a little better about getting older because man, I tell ya', you couldn't pay me with all the tea in China to go through it again...once was enough!

    Thursday was eventful as I had dinner with my best friend who I have known for 14 years yet have not seen but once since my ex and I split in November. I have really missed her even though she has hurt me deeply. But what is life without forgiveness right? It was really good to see her and catch up on things even though she seemed a little uneasy when I mentioned the new boyfriend. Funny. Everyone loved my ex even though they all now admit they knew he wasn't for me. What is that? I mean, yeah he was a nice guy and he was great with my son but a.) he had no style, b.) he wasn’t very sharp (which I know can be shallow but come on, my 6 year old can spell might , it’s not mite. Ugh c.) he didn’t light the fire on the mattress if ya know what I mean, d.) he was not ambitious (I could give a shit about money but I want passion in my man, passion for life in general and that includes what he wants to do with himself, don’t just be content sitting on your ass at a job you hate, strive to better yourself and pursue what you are passionate about, now THAT is fucking hot), e.) he had no backbone (gotta have a man who can be a man sometimes…a guy who can be your partner and friend and lover but who isn’t afraid to take you over his knee once in a while *ahem*) and f.) he wasn't romantic...in 4 years we never had an "our song"...it took him a YEAR to tell me he thought I was pretty even though I had to coach him along the way... we never had one slow dance...we never gazed into each other's eyes passionately or shared a slow motion movie kiss..I never regressed to age 14 in the light of my infactuation drawing hearts around our initials...no fire whatsoever and who wants to live without that? When I finally broke it off with him, most of my friends and my entire family were stunned which perplexes me because I had been airing my unhappiness and feelings of emptiness for a long time…this just goes to prove the In one ear and out the other phrase. I met my current boyfriend online while I was in this relationship and we became “internet friends”. We both knew it was not tangible for us so we settled on friendship and I even set him up with some of my LA girlfriends. Having so much in common and gaining a great deal of respect for him as we both share web design and Photoshop interests, I spoke of him on occasion so people knew about him but thought nothing of it. Well, still having problems with my current boyfriend, I went to LA to visit my friend for a weekend getaway. That’s when we met in person and that’s when I knew it was love at first sight. I already knew in my heart I was in love with him as a person so if you were wondering if people can fall in love via the internet, the answer is Yes. Vehemently Yes. Knowing that I could feel this way for someone else, I knew I couldn’t be in love with the one I was with so I broke it off. I felt it was the right thing to do rather than cheat on him to remain in the security of a long term relationship. I still don’t feel bad about it but apparently some people are more secure in hypocrisy than unconditional support of a friend and some people are still upset with me even though it wasn’t them I broke up with. She has been one of them, her main premise being that I was “rushing into another relationship” even though, last time I checked, that was my business and my life to live therefore, your point is what? Would you prefer that I am out banging random guys or that I be alone earning Spinster status? Why be mad at me and make it personal between us? If anyone can explain this to me, I sure would like to hear the logic behind this way of thinking. I have supported my friends through everything, some of which I morally did not agree with but I have always had a strong belief in a code of sisterhood. This sisterhood is defined by me as follows:

  • Chicks before dicks (guys have their Bros before Hoes so, why not) .


  • Never date a guy you’re sister has had feelings for or in some cases any past boys your friend has dated are strictly off limits unless she gives the green light.


  • Never stab a sister in the back. If you have something to say to her, give her the courtesy of getting the information first hand and not second or third.


  • Keep your sister’s business private and do not air her dirty laundry. When sharing stories with others, protect the innocent and never use names.


  • Always have your sister’s back. This includes the heads up on bra padding showing, food/lipstick in teeth, tp on shoe, food/drink spilled down blouse or any other possible horrifying embarrassment in public.


  • Listen to your sister. Being a sounding board is as important as needing one.


  • Don’t ever forget to tell your sister that you love her. Women love affirmations.


  • Don’t be too proud to apologize to your sister especially if you’re really close and have most likely gotten on the same menstrual cycle which is probably why you are annoying each other to begin with right now.


  • Information. Don’t be afraid to give it. If you know your sister is being wronged by a man or a fellow sister (DEATH TO THE BETRAYING BITCH), it is your duty to let her know. Whether or not she turns it around on you to appease her own comfort level is a true test of your sisterly bond. Ignorance is not bliss.


  • Make time for your sisters. No matter how busy life can get, genuine girlfriends are few and far between. Don’t take them for granted.


  • I don’t think it’s a bad code to follow nor too much to ask for from fellow sisters, do you? Alas, the world of feminine existence is a sordid and convoluted one now isn’t it? So much cattiness and backstabbing and for what? Hormones? The pressure to be thin and beautiful? Some human instinct for competition for the strong alpha male? Or is that down deep we are all really bisexual and fight these desires therefore resulting in freak projections of offbeat emotion? Yeah, I think we all should just like do it and get it over with already.