A Day Like No Other

Today, September 12, is a very special anniversary for me. It is the anniversary of the best day of my life. It is proof and a yearly reminder that whatever I have done with my life to this point, such as it is, and no matter what may come after until my time on Earth is done, whenever that may be, that I can look back and unequivocally say THIS one day back in 1994, was the best day of my life.

September 12 is the anniversary of the day I gave birth to my daughter Arianna. Yes, today is my baby’s 10th Birthday.

My due date was August 28, but she was obviously not having ANY of that. Maybe she just wanted to be a September baby like her Mama and Papa Joe (my Dad). My OB/GYN was also on vacation for that whole week, and he said jokingly to me right before he left “Watch, you’ll have the baby on Labor Day!” and then started laughing his butt off. I looked at him and said “As IF I would ever do anything so cornball!? I’m not having this baby until your butt is back from vacation. We’ll be waiting for you!” And so we were.

And waiting……. and waiting… and waiting….. and waiting……..

Finally on Friday, Sept 9 Doc told me he wanted to induce me, that I was just under 2 weeks late and to wait any longer would not be considered safe. He didn’t want to wait much longer to see if it would happen on its own. We had tried everything to induce my labor up to this point. Walking till I was ready to drop. More walking. Dancing. Lots of sex. Nope. None of it worked. Those old wives tales are such bullshit, I swear. So, Doc booked me to be induced on Monday, September 12. Actually, he wanted to do it on Sunday, Sept 11, but Z said he wanted an extra day off from work and another 3-day weekend. Typical man. I was told to fast and to present myself at the Labor and Delivery ward of my chosen hospital at 5:30am.

AT WHAT TIME????????????? DID YOU SAY 5:30??????? AM?????? Uh, uh-huh, sure, ok. Apparently, they wanted to get me prepped and the IV drip in and the induction med going nice and slow. The way he timed it, I should be fully dilated and in full labor around his lunchtime. Do you think I let him get off that easy? Of COURSE NOT!

Sunday night, I was so nervous. I had been very anxious for a few weeks now. Every twinge I wondered “Is this it?” I had been having some odd pains, but it wasn’t really labor. The wait was killing me! I kept checking and re-checking the bag that I had had on standby for my delivery. Going home outfits? One for a girl, which I was positive I was having, or one for a boy, just in case. Booties, blanket, etc…. yup. All the things for me. Yup. Check. Names. Check. Arianna for a girl. Aidan for a boy. FINAL.

Late at night after Z had gone to sleep, I found myself in the nursery. I eased myself down in the rocking chair and looked around, thinking, “The next time I’m in here, my little baby will be here with me.” And it was the best feeling. I could feel the baby kicking me every now and then. Moving around, trying to get comfortable I suppose. I started crying softly, the emotions overwhelming me. I couldn’t quite believe that I had come this far. I/we had tried so hard and been through hell (ok, mostly me) and back for over 2 years trying to get pregnant. Then when it worked, when I was finally pregnant, I couldn’t quite believe it. Well, not until the horrifying nausea that was with me 24/7 started anyway! I looked down at my HUGE protruding tummy and smiled through my tears. Just a little bit more to go now. By this time tomorrow, hopefully my baby would be born. I managed to haul myself out of the rocking chair and waddled off to bed.

It seemed I had just dozed off after tossing and turning forever when the alarm rang. Even my cats seemed to sense things were different this morning. They were all following me silently, a bunch of little-ok, FAT- seriously furry shadows staring at me. I carefully got into the shower. I figured I would end up a mess, but would prefer to start out squeaky clean at least. You have no idea how unnerving it is to have 7 pairs of eyes staring at your hugely pregnant body while you’re in the shower. Little furry perverts! They were talking to me the whole time now. I got out and went to wake up Z. In no time we were getting into the car for the 30-minute drive to the hospital.

Dawn was breaking as we set off on the freeway. The beautiful early morning light. It was a little bit cool still, and hasn’t really warmed up too much yet. Thank God, since the summer was the worst in DECADES that year. Z remembers the songs on the radio the whole way there. I don’t. I just remember looking at the road, at the mountains in sort of a daze, more and more nervous of the unknown by each passing minute. The whole ride there was a bit of a daze, actually, for me at any rate.

The birthing suite was very nice. Like a hotel room. They got me in and settled and next thing I knew MY nurse Karen (you had a dedicated nurse assigned to you, but that didn’t mean that everyone and their mother wouldn’t be coming to look and stick their hands up your hoo-hah by a long shot!) had inserted the IV line, was smiling at me and said as she started running the solution “Here we go!” I smiled back. She proceeded to get me all attached to the fetal monitor, while I was trying to distract myself by watching the news in front of me on the TV. That obviously wasn’t working. So, I started cracking jokes. I’m usually pretty fun to be around, but when I’m nervous? I turn into a comedienne. Pretty soon I had Karen in stitches laughing so hard, and this is what kept me from freaking out. I was having quite a ball, all things considered.

Well, at least until the contractions started. Things went kind of ape shit real fast. While they were still very mild and far apart, they came to me and told me that my cute little Chinese Anesthetist was scheduled to go in to theater for a heart patient, and would I like to get my epidural in NOW and just keep the med at a very very low dose until it was needed to be increased later, or would I like to chance waiting till he got out of the other surgery? NOW PLEASE. RIGHT NOW. Turns out, it’s a good thing I did it this way, but we’ll get to this in a bit. Thank God my Mama was there with me. Although, watching her try and keep monster the hell out of my hair was grating on me. Monster was talking nonsense the whole time and the LAST thing I needed to hear was her. Z was in charge of keeping her out while I got my epidural. I was a good girl and it went fine. When it started taking effect I got a little freaked when my leg tremors started, but once it did? I was all, “THIS IS THE BEST MY BACK HAS FELT IN 10 YEARS! This is great!” Mind you, it wasn’t strong enough yet for me to NOT feel contractions. That was a trip and a half.

By now I was totally making cracks at whoever walked in and took looks and stuck fingers in my hoohah. There is no dignity allowed for a woman in labor. NONE WHATSOEVER.

I wasn’t dilating like they wanted me to. After 4 hours I had only dilated to 2 so the upped the induction meds. Then, it seemed, things were happening all at once.

I was completely fed up with BOTH mothers by this point and told Z quietly to go get them some coffee or something before I flipped. I was so nervous and wondering why I wasn’t dilating properly as expected, I didn’t need the extra hassle right then, ya know? I was finally in some relative peace and quiet when all hell broke loose inside my womb.

The external fetal monitor wasn’t reading very well, and it seems that I had dialated from 2 to 4 in no time flat. By now, I was pretty numb from the waist (waist! HAH! Wherever THAT was!) down and feelin no pain. Suddenly, Karen is gone, and then 3-4 more nurses come back in with her, checking the fetal monitor tape. Whispering back and forth. Karen is back checking my dialation and they all calmly tell me that the external monitor isn’t getting any clear record, the baby must have moved, so they are going to attach an internal monitor to the baby’s scalp. After assuring me it wouldn’t hurt the baby, I gave the go ahead, still clueless to what the real problem was. When the attached the wire to the skull, it broke my water. THAT WAS SOOOOOOOO GROSS. I had to lay in that. I was NOT happy, but then I noticed the looks on the nurses’ faces. They all looked worried, and Karen checked me and turns out I had dilated to 6 now and apparently they could see the head and part of the cord in the birth canal. They were losing the fetal heartbeat. I could hear that it was slower. They said that I would be fine, and still trying not to tell me anything, but I could see that Karen had still not moved. It seems that she was using her fingers to push the baby back in, because when I dilated so fast and my water broke, the umbilical cord slipped through the opening and then Arianna laid her head on it like a pillow. Yes dears, she was suffocating herself. Karen shoved the cord back in and held Arianna’s head off of it. The shut down the drip immediately so I wouldn’t dilate any more than I already had and they called my doctor. He was on the way. I knew something was wrong, but they weren’t telling me. I looked at Karen and I said, “If it comes down to me or the baby, save the baby please! Don’t let my baby die!” She said we would both be ok, but that I would have to have an emergency C-section now. I said, “do it, whatever, just do it. You have my permission and these 3 nurses as witnesses.”

Karen hopped up on the end of my bed and kept her hand right where it was for the ride down the hall to the O.R. right as Z and the two moms were trying to come back with their coffee. They all 3 had identical looks on their faces. I just looked and said “change of plan, c-section NOW!” as they rolled me past. I was kind of freaking asking if my doc had been called over and over again. They assured me he had. By now I was in the OR and on the operating table. Cute little Chinese Anesthesiologist comes in and stands above my head. Tells me he is giving me a whopper dose of drugs so we can do the c-section. I nod that I understand. As they are going through my system he explains that I won’t feel anything, just maybe a little bit of pressure. Again with the nodding understanding. By now I’m wondering where the HELL IS MY DOCTOR? Cause really I have 100% trust and faith in him. They tell me he is here and scrubbing up and tell me to look to my left and I can see him. He looks at me, our eyes meet, and suddenly, I know I’m going to be ok. I felt reasonably calm.

Of course, this did not prevent me from sticking my foot in my mouth with what I said next in a moment of levity. All I can say is, whatever was going thru my veins must have been some gooooood shiiiiiiiiiiitttttt mannnnn. They had strapped my legs to the table and then swung out a board thingie on either side of my torso and proceeded to tie my arms to it. I looked at them, wiggled my fingers and said quite loudly “What is this, the Crucifixion???”. Everyone paused for a moment and stared at me, then started laughing their heads off as they continued with their work, still laughing. Did I mention that this is a CATHOLIC HOSPITAL? No? Well, now I did! Doc walks in and hears the laughter and says “and NOW you see why this lovely lady is my very favorite patient!” and he winks at me. By now, Karen has removed her hand to be replaced by the hand of Sue. Karen walks by me and shows me her fingers. They are blue from lack of circulation and bruised with ugly purple bruises, but she is smiling at me nonetheless. She had her hand like that for over 30 minutes, bless her heart.

Now doc is standing next to me, waiting for the all clear to begin his incision, just staring at the guy above my head. They put an oxygen mask on my face and he is saying “COME ON ! HOW MUCH LONGER???” and I hear little man at my head counting 5,4,3,2,1 ok…. And then doc nods, and his hands go down. (Also? Doc is about 6’4, so he is real easy to see even from my prone position.) Z is at my left next to the anesthesiologist looking terrified in his scrubs. Then I remember, “I was told I would only feel pressure! I FEEL MORE THAN PRESSURE. I move my head and drug doc leans over my face upside down; I said, “I feel everything! I FEEL IT!!!!!!!!!!” he said NO, only pressure!” I said, “He cut me left to right. He pulled the skin up and back, now he has clamped it on the top left and now the right……..” and I hear drug doc shout “OH SHIT!” as I moan in pain (Yes, I can feel most all of it y’all) He says, I can give you something more, but you will be really high for over 24 hours!” I said “It isn’t as if I’m DOING ANYTING USEFUL EXCECPT LAYING HERE! GIMMIE!” He nodded and almost instantly, I was high as hell. NOW I could only feel pressure, thankfully. I’m still moaning, from the pressure. Though. It would seem that my husband watched them remove my some of my intestines and place them on my distended abdomen. Yes, he stayed standing, but barely, poor guy.

Call me nosey, but I noticed that my doc went in for her 3 times. He tried to take her out vertically, but she slipped away. Then he went in horizontally, but she wiggled away again, I saw him look irritated behind his mask and he hoisted himself up on the table with one knee up for leverage and went in diagonally this time! SUCCESS!!!!! I felt this great sucking feeling as all of a sudden I was empty and my head flopped back, cause y’all? Even with the drugs, it didn’t feel too nice. The big ass digital clock on the wall read 10:42am.

But then I didn’t hear crying for a minute. In my drugged state, I was afraid, but then, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I was relived. I kept asking Boy or girl? Boy or girl? No one would answer me, the bastards. Finally someone told me GIRL! And I smiled. I had always, always wanted a baby girl since the time I was about 3.

I think I passed out after that for a little bit. Either that or they gave me another push of drugs for the sewing up part. Ew.

Still I hadn’t seen her. Eventually, I woke up back in my room. I kept asking to see my baby. They told me soon. They told me not to worry, her APGAR rating was a 9 and that she cried for 45 minutes straight once she started! And then they rolled her in in the incubator. She was very slightly jaundiced. I just stared and stared at her in wonder and amazement.

Finally I had my baby. Later, they let me hold her for my first attempt at breastfeeding. The second she was in my arms and looked up at me all squinty I was hooked. And I’ve remained hooked ever since.

As any parent will tell you, the time really flies. It seems only yesterday that I was holding her for the first time. After I got home, her first bath. Well, I didn’t give her her first bath, I was TERRIFIED I’d drop her when she was wet. Cat “Costrina” (yes, my friend that comments on my blog!), my wonderful friend Cat came, (who already had a 2 year old and who I used to pray I could one day be as good a mother as she is, heard my plight and came to my rescue. Now THAT, dear readers, is a friend!

Later, when she first smiled at me. Her first tooth. Her first food. (Mango baby food) Her first steps were trying to follow me when I walked away to go to the kitchen. So many memories flooding my mind, and too numerous to put down here.

So today, my baby, my life, turns 10 years old.

Happy Birthday Arianna. It has been a joy to watch you grow with each year that passes and I’m so proud of my beautiful Princess. Mama loves you with all her heart, forever and ever.
Remembering 9/11

Three years ago today a horrifying tragedy happend on U.S. soil. What happend was beyond anyones comprehension. Until 9/11/2001, I believe that noone in America, my home country, belived that they would have witnessed, that anyone would DARE to attack the US on it's own soil, but that is precisely what DID happen. Perhaps the government ignored the warning signs. Personally I belive they did. I belive that there were enough signs, and too much red tape and politics and infighting between intelligence agencies at the time. Could it have been prevented. I guess we will never know. To some extent, maybe yes. There were definete warinng signs (That August Memo, for instance). Condi said as much. Their concerns were mostly for overseas, not at home.

I mean, perhaps all the higher up people in the governemnt thought : "Who the hell would DARE to do such a thing to US, the United States of America?" Apparently Os*ma Bin L*den would and did, the bastard, may he rot in hell for eternity sooner than later.

The atrocity of 9/11 and all te*ror attacks since are a testament to what can happen when you misunderstimate your enemy and are too cocky and full of yourself. Unfortunately, America and the world learned a lesson the hard way.

Three years ago I sat stunned in disbelief at what I was hearing. At the images I was seeing on my computer screen at work in what was the late afternoon in this part of the world.

I heard about the first plane hitting when my husband called me and told me. I couldn't believe it. At least not at first. Then, he checked with a friend at American Airlines and they told him that one of their jets was "off the radar". Missing. I knew then it wasn't a small plane that hit. With dread I felt that this was NOT an accident as first reported... I was afraid it was done purposely.

I immediately tried to pull up my beloved CNN.com... but I couldn't for at least 5 minutes. I guess they had an overload of site hits, understandably.

Within minutes, the CNN website was posting pictures of the first plane hitting and having breaking news about the second plane.

I was still sitting in shock when the news started coming through about the towers collapsing one by one. Then, the plane flying into the Pentagon. This terrified me because one of my Uncles is frequently at the Pentagon on business. Another Uncle is still in the military and is also there from time to time. Fortunately for me, neither one was there that day.

I vaguely remember leaving work and driving home in a daze, listening to the news on the radio. The days after the attack, I was in a daze. In shock I guess. Watching the news at home. Horrifying, all of it. I had nightmares for months. I can only imagine the poor people that survived and their families and the families of those that were lost, what they went through. What they are STILL going through. My prayers are with all of them today.

I hope yours are too.
The Social Butterfly

Yesterday afternoon Z came home and told me we were invited to a gathering later in the evening by a client/friend of his for his girlfriend’s surprise birthday party. Oh goody. I’m going to be immersed in a bunch of people (around 30) that I don’t know.

Don’t get me wrong, I like gatherings! A lot. I’m a friendly person; definitely NOT a wallflower by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just that, well, I’ve been a wee bit down lately, what with the no job situation, my vacation being delayed until WHENEVER and all. But you know, you kinda have to be in the MOOD for one of these gatherings. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew someone there at least.

But wait! I it seems that I have met the birthday girl, Lisa, before. It would seem that I spent a majority of a Christmas Party about 3 years ago chatting with Lisa. She is a sweetie. Oh good. I DO know someone. Anyway, I figured, “Oh what the hell, at least I’ll get out of the house for a while, right?” Right.

Boy oh boy did I EVER!!!!!! Heh.

I got myself all dolled up. Hell, it’s amazing what a little eyeliner and lipstick and blush do for a woman’s mood. Especially ME! The makeup maniac. (But that, my darlings, is another post altogether!!) Scarlett sings: “I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! Oh so pretty and happy and …..” Well, you know the rest!

We showed up a little after 8:30 pm. Z was telling me to go in first. OH NO HE DOESN’T! He wasn’t being gentlemanly. No sireebob! Nope. He was shy. I told him, “Get yer butt in front of me, cause YOUR friend invited us, and I have no idea what he looks like and I’ve never met him!”. So, he did. Then, after the introductions, I start looking around at the gang of people gathered in the bar for Lisa’s party. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Everyone is in their mid to late 50’s at least! JJ asks me what I want for a drink, I take another glance at all the quiet, generally stuffy appearing older people and say, “MARGERITA PLEASE!” with a smile. Z looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. Hee hee heeeeeee. Good.

Blah blah blah. Lisa comes over, is so excited that we came, she hasn’t seen us in AGES, yadda yadda yadda, etc.. and all. (She is really a sweetheart!) Here comes my drink in JJ’s hand. GIMMIE!!!!!!! I take it from him and take a sip…………..

THANK YOU LORD. It’s really, really good. I mean I haven’t had a margarita this good since I left Los Angeles in 1998! (Rose Ann, like the ones down the street from work, good!) PERFECT. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I stand around happily sipping my drink while Z and Lisa chit chat. (anybody’s guess where JJ went)

Thankfully it’s time to move to the tables. I am much better in these type of situations. NOW I am completely at ease. We sit down and I proceed to get to know our tablemates. In our general vicinity it is all women… but next to the lady sitting to my left is Ryan. (Remember this name for later on please) The lady next to me is a lovely Australian woman who seems to be in her early 40’s. Laura. She is a joy to sit next to. Turns out Laura’s hubby is an investment banker and when she asked me what I do and I explained, she choked on her drink. It seems that he is looking for an Executive PA. Isn’t that lovely? (Yeah, I worked it but good!) Across from me is Z. Next to him is an older lady with long ass blonde hair named Diane. I like me some Diane. Diane is older, yet very chic and elegant with loads of tasteful jewelry. Diane is British but with some Irish ancestry I believe. This little fact will also come in handy in a moment.

Hold on to your undies, for heavens sake!

The restaurant is more like an art gallery. Directly behind Z is a small stage with a mural on the wall and there sits the entertainment. A man with a good voice and a guitar and 2 big ass speakers. The lights are very dim, with spots on the artwork and there are candle tapers placed in the middle of the tables. So lovely. (Cause ladies, don’t we all know we look beautiful and enchanting by candlelight?” YUP!

Around now, a waiter comes around with a frothy pitcher of margaritas. He tops my almost empty glass up. I’m a happy woman. As we are all enjoying the ecstasy of our newly refilled drinks and getting to know each other..... I hear my dear husband stick his foot in his mouth with his usual comment to Diane who is seated next to him.

He apparently explained that I am Irish-American and she said “Yes, she is so obviously Irish with her amazing coloring-look at those big green eyes and that thick red hair!- and her beautiful complexion… only the Irish have a skin tone that pure and milky a white!” (I so love me some Diane right now!) Enter Z with his comment “Yeah, hah! And she has an Irish temper too!”

DOH! Wrong thing to say, I think.

Diane’s face went from a charming smile to narrowed blue slits for eyes, a set mouth, and very serious expression when she said “What temper? The Irish are known for being fun loving, and for breaking into song and dance. Friendly and charming with a love for a good drink now and then! The Irish don’t have tempers, so they my dear?” She asks me, smiling into my eyes. I smile at her and say sweetly “What temper?” as I daintily pick up my glass and as ladylike as possible suck down some of the contents. Heh. Z looks like he swallowed an octopus tentacle and it’s gotten stuck in his craw. Gawd I love when that happens. I wanted to ask “Would you like fries with that dear?”

This is the SECOND time that he has made this comment to someone about me that has IRISH BLOOD and they call him on it. HAH! It would seem he never learns, doesn’t it?

Ok never mind that I do have a temper. My full-blown temper isn’t all that often seen.. Naw, its rarely seen. If I lose my “Irish” temper, you will know it. Definitely. My temper is much like a volcano. It lies dormant for a while, and then, once the pressure cannot build any more, KABOOOOOOM!

But I digress.

They bring us starters, which we make short work of. Much like my drink. By now I’m on my 3rd refill and chatting away with everyone at my table. The main course is ordered and now they bring around a lovely white wine. Like I’m going to say no? Too late, it was placed in front of me. Oh well. I DO like white wine.

More talking and what not. I find out that I am sitting amidst millionaire bankers and businessmen. Everyone is either British, Australian, or some other type of European. There is one couple from Africa. You know, the white Africans in Zimbabwe that got kicked off their farms, their land taken from them, blah blah? That would be Ryan and Deborah.

Ryan loves him some drink, does Ryan. HE is a damn hoot. Another gentleman that loves his alcohol is Charles, Diane’s hubby. He is the freaking Millionaire banker that owns 8 investment banks. That Charles is a cheeky bugger.

Let me speed things up, hmmmm? Dinner comes, and for me, Lord only knows how many margarita refills. I lost count somewhere around 7. I know it was more, but hell if I know how many. Well! I’m not the only one drinking! Everyone by now is all friendly and having a lovely time. I don’t usually drink. There is never any alcohol in my house. (Ok, but that’s mainly cause Monster drinks booze like it’s water if it’s around and she’s in a freaking desert, ok? So I wouldn’t get any anyway!) My husband doesn’t drink at all. I drink on special occasions. Like this. (Hey Rose Ann, any outing with you is considered a special occasion sweetie!)

After dinner, Charles, who is by now quite high on his drinks, and who, I find out, Loves to dance, starts dancing with his wife. I think to myself how adorable they are and how very graceful. He does the whole ballroom/swing-dancing thing. I am enchanted. The singer leaves and puts on soft music. A little while later, once the restaurant is pretty much cleared out and we are on our own, Charles and Diane’s daughter and her friends, male and female, come to crash the party. They are all between the ages of 18- 22ish. One particularly adorable tall lanky guy eventually hops up on the stages, takes hold of the acoustic guitar attached to some amps and speakers and proceeds to blow our damn minds with his fucking AMAZING TALENT.

This guy, Eddie, he can sing and play man. He knows how to get an audience involved too! Someone get this guy a freaking recording contract NOW. He has a beautiful deep scratchy singing voice with a helluva range. He whipped out with some Little Richard, Beatles, Rolling Stones (I can’t get no sa-tis-faaaaaaction!!!!!!!)Jimmy Buffett, and MORE MORE MORE! The song “American Pie” more times than I want to remember, The Eagles, some 80s music, some 90’s, everything in between, and new millennium stuff too! Bloody hell. He covered every freaking decade for 40+ years! AND HE WAS GOOD. We were all singing and everyone started dancing. Well, I was sitting. A few of us were. For now.

Charles moseyed up and asked me for to dance. Z shrugged, and I said to myself “Why the hell not?” So I accepted. Dayum! I haven’t danced like this since I don’t know when!

Yes my lovelies, Scarlett was in the middle of the dance floor with the dancer that knew his stuff doing some major swing-dance moves. WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!!! He danced with me for two songs, since he thought I was such a good dance partner. I was a bit rusty, but it comes right back, like riding a bicycle. I was having so much fun and laughing y’all!!!!! WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

I was finally returned to my seat. More drink refills ensued, and I found myself singing with Eddie and the rest of the gang to his songs. I see the Philippino waiters over in the corner tapping their feet and clapping along with the music. They are enjoying themselves too. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, I see one of them fly up onto the stage, snatch a tambourine from God Knows WHERE and start shaking his shit and his tambourine up next to Eddie, really getting into it! Can you all imagine my face? I was in freaking hysterics people. The little waiter guy was SO INTO IT. And he was doing well too, bless his heart!

The waiter, continued on, and in a bit, he went FUCKING INSANE! He started dancing and running all over the damn place in a complete FRENZY Y’ALL!!!!!!!! Like he was on crack and going through withdrawals. I was INSENSATE and staring openmouthed at the spectacle unfolding before my eyes! Then I started laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe!

This brings a whole new meaning to ROTFLMAO.

Damn I wish I had pictures. I really do.

When I get my breath back, I start singing along at the top of my voice at this point, with everyone else. Scarlett can project her voice, (can’t I Costrina?) and it seems she hasn’t forgotten how to do so either!! Heh. Remember this too, my lovelies.

Round about 2:30am, we are all still going strong. I was sitting there, still clutching my bottomless pit of a margarita glass in my hand and finding myself completely amazed that all these people that I am with who were all being so stuffy, circumspect and proper are now drunk off their asses and ALL OVER THE DANCE FLOOR. Funny what tequila does to people, innit?

In the middle of my musings and general mental repetitions inside my head of “I am SO BLOGGING THIS TOMORROW!!!!! Mustn’t forget anything!”, well, this is when Ryan, who we all gave up and gave him his own pitcher with a straw, comes over and yanks me out of my chair for a dance. He is SO shitfaced I don’t know how he stands, much less plans to dance. But dance we did. Until he started twirling me, and then couldn’t decide if he wanted to lead, or to let me lead, and then he made ME twirl HIM whereupon he promptly spun out of control and would have fallen on a table if I hadn’t grabbed him! He started laughing uproariously at this, and then decided to do a waltz-like dance instead. I couldn’t help myself. I was laughing my head off by this time at Ryan’s antics. I finally escaped and sat back in my seat.

More singing and watching OTHERS dance madly until slowly people went close to 3 am. Eddie had stopped singing at this point. I found out that Z had invited JJ and Lisa over for me to cook dinner for them in the near future, and suddenly it was just Z and myself, Eddie, JJ and Lisa. Eddie’s friends were outside, Z, JJ and Lisa were talking, and I decided to compliment Eddie on his rather obvious talent. He told me the sweetest thing, this lovely Swedish guy that was so cute that the Brit ladies sitting with me were earlier saying they could fancy a shag with him, please let him be LEGAL. He said. “You are a singer, I could hear you over everyone’s voices. You knew all the words. Next time, come up and sing with ME! You have to!”.

Wow. Thanks cutie pie. You just made my night! I said thank you, and sure, next time I’d sing with him. I left the cutie pie comment out.

Z and I got home at 3:30am to monster and her dramatics waiting for us. She hates it when we go out or have a good time. I ran in, jumped in the shower, and then crawled in the bed around 4am and slept like a baby.

This morning, I woke up perfectly fine. No pounding head. NO sensitivity to light. Nada. Yes, yet again, I have made my Irish Nana proud. She would haunt me if I let a little tequila bring me low.

So what do you all think, hmmmm? Does it sound like I had fun?

Man, I want a drink- monster is STIL bitching about our outing.


Another Guilty Pleasure

Y'all, I feel that it is time for me to announce another one of my guilty pleasures. Yes, it is Scarlett Cyn's confession time yet again.

You all know about the shoes and handbags. Yes indeedy you do. (And if you DON"T know what I'm talking about, then go snoop around my archives. HOP TO!)

You also know about my little addiction to historical romance novels. And now, it is time for me to spill the beans.

I'm totally addicted to the reality show Survivor. This is a fairly new addiction. I fought the whole reality tv thing with my entire being. But then.......one fateful evening.... with 600 satelliete channels to choose from and STILL nothin on... I happened across an episode of Survivor Pearl Islands, and that quickly my friends, I was hooked. It was the very first episode, I had missed the first 7 minutes, but the second I saw Rupert steal the other tribe's shoes, I HAD to watch. That was some funny shit, y'all. And I 've been hooked ever since.

No way in HELL I could go on that show. Nuh-uh. Princess likes her niceties, she does. They make them eat some FOUL crap on that show too. um, no. Another reason I couldn't handle it? I. HATE. Fish. period. And speaking of period....... this enquiring mind wants to know what the women do when it's "that time of the month". I mean, hell, they are on a freaking ISLAND, and on camera most of the time. (I'm a wee bit twisted, aren't I?) HEY! It's a valid damn question.

What made me drag this up now? Cause I heard on TV tonight that the new Survivor starts September 16. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! And guess what? It's women against men. (Well, that and the fact that there are 2 lesbians on this show should prove for some interesting stuff, dontcha think?)

I do.
The First Day

Today was Arianna's first day of 5th grade.

Last night she was trailing around after me, checking, double-checking and triple-checking that I was not forgetting anything for her first day. Luchbox-CHECK. Uniform - CHECK. Shoes- Polished , CHECK. Blah blah blah. She went to bed early, without my nagging her. WOW!

My poor baby. She was so nervous. She set her alarm clock and passed right out.

It would seem she was more anxious than even I figured. Poor thing woke up a 3am and couldn't go back to sleep. She watched a video quietly until 5:30, not waking up the house until then. She was ready and had fixed her own breakfast even! (Ok, it was cereal, toast and tea, but STILL!) She is very self-sufficient at any rate.

Off she went to school. . She was the first student there, before they even unlocked the gates! Met her new homeroom teacher who seems very nice. Then she took a look at the class list posted on the door. Oh no! Some kids she really can't stand from last year (boys). Exit parents, stage Left.

Tick tock, tick tock........... Cut to 3:13 pm........

School bus arrives home. I ask how her day went as I lift the backpack off her shoulders and take her now empty lunch box from her hand. Lunch is waiting on the table for her. Hands now washed as she begins her tale.

It would seem that she didn't have as much fun as she expected today. Only 8 students in her class showed up. 8 out of 20. Hmmmmmm. Teacher couldn't really do much. THEN, her French teacher didn't show up today either! I told her to look on the bright side. She asked me "What bright side MOMMMMMMM? MY FRENCH TEACHER DIDN"T COME!" I said "The bright side being, maybe its a NEW French teacher since you despised the one you had last year!" (she loved her French teacher the first 3 years-and she loved Arianna also, but then they gave her a different one last year. She still did fine, but didn't ENJOY the class.) Well, this perked her RIGHT UP! OOH! She just told me that she saw her favorite French teacher and she came and gave her a big hug. Awwwww, that's nice.

Apparently, there is a different Principal from 5th grade on up. Apparently he is a real hard-ass. Principal Melvin. I made her repeat that name a few times while I laughed my ass off. MELVIN? Principal Melvin? She asked what was so funny, I said, well,that's just kind of a nerd name is all.... but I'm sure he isn't a nerd at all!" *snicker, chortle, guffaw*

She keeps coming to me with new stories. I think I really like this new teacher of hers!!! She was just ranting that every time a new teacher came to be introduced, she made them all stand up to attention and say "GOOD MORNING MISS _______" then sit back down again.

Yup, I like her already.


I have GMAIL invitations babies! 12 of em. If you would like one, please email me or put a comment and let me know and I'll send you the invitation! They have like 1000GB of storage for free. Its fabulous.

Email: Scarlett.Cyn@gmail.com