AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
Forgive me. I'm channeling Macaulay Culkin today…for most of the day.
See, my assistant has moved on to greener pastures rather suddenly and quite unexpectedly, and while I wish her the very best of luck in her new position, that doesn't stop the fact that I am….
SO. VERY.screwed. Particularly today. Why? Because the other assistant in the office was out today, meaning I was all alone. So naturally it was busier than usual. My desk looked like an avalanche hit, and that is just NOT the way I work. I like tidy piles at least, but none of that today. Nuh-uh! The phones alone had me wanting to cry and everything of course was URGENT. My boss also has selective memory. He makes appointments and tells people to come see him and then when they show up (which I know nothing about because why on earth would he bother to put it on his schedule??) he blames me for making appointments without permission and YOU try telling him as politely as possible that HE told them on the phone to show up!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *yanks fistfuls of hair*. Can you just imagine the strange looks I get from the people when I tell them, "He wasn't expecting you and they say "But he said to come!??"? Arugh.
Here is another strange example. He has been trying to set up an appointment with a particular ambassador and vice versa. He just got through telling me on Thursday how much he wants me to get this appointment arranged. So this morning I finally got an appointment confirmed for tomorrow morning… when the morning was completely open on his planner. So what happens when I tell him on he phone all triumphantly that I secured the coveted appointment? He freaked about how busy he is this week, and he has no time for these kind of things blah blah blah. This as I'm looking at his pretty much empty schedule this week on the monitor in front of me, completely puzzled.
Oh well, he is a really nice guy though. I just could not get over the amount of work today is all.
Of course I managed, BUT…. I'm even more exhausted than usual too.
Maybe because I slept like hell last night tossing and turning incessantly, the sound of my own cries waking me up repeatedly. I was in a constant half awake half asleep state for most of the night and early morning hours. I guess it's a damn good thing I can't remember what I was dreaming, now isn't it?
I think I'm going to hit the hay early tonight. I just have one or two more things to impart to you all.
1) I'm actually going to ask you early (read: NOW PEOPLE) for Inquisition questions this week, and,
2) Garfield, my apparently highly overs*xed 4 month old bi/gay/WTF?? KITTEN was at it again humping on his… half brother Bandit. Z is so freaked out about it that he told me to "snip his nuts if you wanna keep his freaky ass". Well! This from the man with 2 gay brothers? (one of which is now his sister. HELLOOOOO????) I kinda feel sorry for the vet. These are some seriously HEWGE balls on this cat. Much like that hamster I spoke of oh so long ago. WHAAAAT? You can't help but see his equipment, even with all that fur. He likes to sit like a person on his ass with his legs out in front of him. It's kind of hard to miss, you realize?
Well, I'm off to get some beauty sleep, my lovelies. I'm burnt OUT today. Now don't forget to get your quesitons in!! I'll be waiting.
5/29/2005
5/27/2005
I HATE This
Further to my earlier comment on my previous post about Z's odd behavour today, and the fact that I've felt like a single mother all day long. I find it fascinating to sit next to someone and feel like you are compleetely and totally alone in the room excecpt for the apparently homosexual (bi?) cat playing with your hair and trying to drink your tea.
The worst thing about me saying "to hell with him and his pouting" today and taking Ari out for a little retail therapy which didn't help because I was so sad about Z's actions that had me confused the WHOLE day and evening, and later to dinner at Chili's because, well, that's what Ari wanted is that? Monster is LOVING THIS.
Absolutely LOVING IT, y'all.
This is one of the few times I have ever gone out without him on a weekend. Wait. let me clarify that. Out by myself is one thing, ie: getting my nails done, or a haircut, or grocerey shopping. But to take Ari out for HOURS and all? No. On family day? The one day when we are all together and which, until now has always been kind of sacred to me? So it is very obvoious that something is up. It would be as if I kicked his ass on the sofa to sleep for a night, which I have never done. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing, knowing things were not right between us.
Hell, you'd have to be blind and deaf not to see it now. and that? She is not.
I felt bad while out, so I did what I always do and try to make nice nice. I called him from my mobile phone to see if he wanted to come eat with us and maybe catch a movie or something...and he was a complete ASSHOLE and I ended up hanging up. Imean what is wrong with just wanting to be a littl happy and spend a teensy bit of quality time toegther? Heh. Quality time. Now that is a joke.
Anyway, when I got home, he was nowhere to be found. (Did I ever mention we are sharing MY car?) Here it is 11:15pm and he walked in and went straight to bed without a single word or even look in my direction (unless you count that vacant look as his eyes passsed over me? Should I count that?) Ugh.
I neglected to share with you that I ripped him a good one about 2 weeks ago when he started being particulary mean telling me I'm running out of time to get pregnant and what the hell am I waiting for? That my biological clock is just about out of batteries, and here I sit doing nothing about it, blah blahblahhhhhh when I should at least go see the new specialist that replaced Wand Monkey talk to him and "see what he says", and why oh WHY am I so useless and lazy about it? I replied that 1) I'm only 33 and, 2) WHY get my hopes up by going to go see the new Wand Monkey and then want to start trying for another child FOR MYSELF when WE can't afford it right now? 3) Why are you saying I should go see him and not WE? My name is NOT Mary Magdeline- SO it takes TWO for this. and Don't forget he is going to ask how often we do the deed! Oh! Maybe that's why you don't want to go to the doctor's appointments!
For the record? I'm one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, just DON'T 1) mistreat me or 2) judge me unfairly without knowing the whole story or 3) maliciously slander and gossip about me and you will never ever get the razor sharp edge of my tongue and deadly intellect. Otherwise? If I find out either 1, 2 or 3 have happened? (God forbid all 3) After I get over the initial hurt? My protective instincts whip out and that means: The gloves are off and the talons extended.
And now? Monster is singing in her room and I just saw her doing a little dance in the hallway too. Evil old bitch. I guess to her twisted mind, maybe her prayers of so many years are slowly coming true.
Who knows? Maybe they are.
*sigh*
Inquisition Confession - Week 25
Welcome to this week's delayed Inquisition Confession. Thank you all for being so patient. It was an insanely crazy week at work. Anyway, I must admit I received an interesting array of questions this time around! Take a look:
Catrina, you asked me a good one, that, I honestly felt bad answering, until Z acted like an asswipe the whole day-ie: today- that is supposed to be our ONE family day together with our daughter, so, in answer to your question:
Does Z still have all his hair?
The answer is: doesn't he wish? No. He has a ton in the back of his head that is soft as silk, but it is very thin on top now. You can see serious scalp, and he hates it, probably because he has such a big ole head. His hair is still that pretty deep chocolate brown though. He is absolutely dying to do a some type of hair grafting. Also, Mr. Z barely has any wrinkles either at almost 41, but that could very well be because he loves – and men, take note!- alpha hydroxy cream and uses it religiously on the borderline of fanatically every single day. He just has a faint smattering of crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his skin is baby soft.
Now then, Cheryl b thinks she asked me a lame question, but it would only be lame if I wasn't really in to the wholeHarry Potter phenomon, which I just happen to be! Books, movies, everything. In fact, Arianna and I sat today and plunked Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the DVD player and had a good ole time watching it together. So, Cheryl asked me this:
If you were a teacher at Hogwarts what would you teach?
Ooooh, I could SO fit in at Hogwarts - if I was a witch and had those talents, that is!- so I would have to say it's a toss up between Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I also like the whole Transfiguration thing too, imagine! I could let my students practice on Monster! Whoot! All day long I could watch her turning from a bullfrog to a snake, to a rat, to a spider,to a fly, to an ardvark, to a squirrel.... ahhh, the possiblities are endless.
I'm curious about my readers. If YOU could be a teacher at Hogwarts, what would y'all teach? In order to help you decide, I've included this handy dandy little link for ya! Wasn't that nice of me?
Mare Imbrium said this, this week:
Okay. We can see you're not shy, and you're not messy...so what's your secret weakness (like kryptonite, maybe)? Do you procrastinate? Do you get distracted easily (that would be mine) or something like that? Sorry, that's all I can come up with.
Hey Mare, does French bread count? I'm a sucker for French bread. Proper French bread. With real creamy butter. *drool*. Um, no, I guess that doesn't count.
Ummm, let me see… I'd have to say that I do tend to get distracted somewhat easily, but just as often, I can be strangely focused as well. I used to be one hell of a procrastinator, but I've gotten so burned by being like that, that I'm much better now. I still sometimes procrastinate doing the one thing at work that I hate… filing. Which I always find strange, because I'm such a control freak and so organized that filing would naturally fall into that, but sometimes, I can let the filing pile up a bit (in organized piles, mind you) but then, as if I get a bee up my a*s or something, I will file like MAD one day and re-organize everything while I'm at it! Weird, I know.
I'd have to say my biggest weakness is daydreaming. Maybe because I am such a visual person, I'm not sure. But I'm a kid who always had written on their report cards, and notes from teacher "Cyn is habitually daydreaming in class and has been caught staring dazedly out the window". My answer when confronted with that was a sheepish look paired with "but the class was BORING". I can't begin to tell you the number of times I was moved from my window seat in school. Too bad the teacher didn't realize that it wasn't necessarily the window distracting me and that isn't what was needed for me to daydream or be distracted. Far from it. Hell, I could zone out on the pattern on my folder or the shirt of the guy sitting in front of me!
God help me if I had a really good descriptive textbook in something I liked like Science or History. If the history story was interesting to me, I'd be picturing the text like a movie in my head. (told you I'm a visual person, now didn't I?)
Another thing. I’m the last person who can sit in a lecture or conference. It has to be a very dynamic speaker to hold my attention, because otherwise? I get drowsy. This gave me serious problems in High School and College particularly. Not to mention seminars I've attended in my adult life. I think that is one of the reasons I like watching Bill Clinton give speeches. He is a very good, and dynamic speaker. He holds my attention, an impressive feat, I must admit.
How's THAT for Kryptonite, babycakes?
Carrie Jo asked me sometihng that was actually much more difucult to answer than I originally imagined it would be, if only because for my whole life I am used to putting others first, waaaay before me. Here it is:
If you had just ONE wish that you were required to use for yourself (no world peace or ending world hunger wishes), what would it be (beside Monster moving to Antarctica)?
Actually Carrie Jo, hell if I know. Let me think now....
How about money? Yeah, at the risk of sounding totally materialistic, and since you took away my world peace, and disappearing Monster options, I guess I have to go for money.
I wouldn't want to be Bill Gates rich, not by a long shot, but, I would wish for a never empty, interest-free bank account. That way I could always use whatever money I wanted, when I wanted it, and not have to worry about not having it, or too little.
At least I wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to, and I could travel and see all the places I've always wanted to see. Monster and her money lovin children could kiss my white ass, cause I'd be the one with the bucks then! (Severely materialistic people y'all). So I would do this with my bottomless pit bank account.Ahhhhh, all the things I could do. I could travel, as previously mentinoed, shop, not have to worry about paying for a top rate education for my daughter, get myself knocked up with the assistance of the finest IVF specialist in the world, THEN, get a killer tummy tuck and booby lift after I was all done breastfeeding my TWINS, while I was at it, have them do something about the part of my body I absolutely HATE.... my neck. then, of course, more shopping. (Did I mention that another kryptonite for me is jewellery? I love jewellery. Bring on the pretties!!!!) I'd buy myself a house in Ireland, and one in Scotland- a beautifully referbished castle, preferably! and custom build myself my dream house in the US. buy a couple of lovely cars. I'd buy a nice fat life-insurance policy on myself and make Arianna and the twins my beneficiaries so they would be set for life-just in case.
Hows that Carrie Jo? (you know I'd take you on some of my vacations, now dontcha? I just couldn't mention it up there, since you specified it had to be for ME!)
Well, that's about it for my answers this week. Until my next "I'm SO gonna blog THIS!" moment, I'm signing out.
Ta-ta my lovlies!
Welcome to this week's delayed Inquisition Confession. Thank you all for being so patient. It was an insanely crazy week at work. Anyway, I must admit I received an interesting array of questions this time around! Take a look:
Catrina, you asked me a good one, that, I honestly felt bad answering, until Z acted like an asswipe the whole day-ie: today- that is supposed to be our ONE family day together with our daughter, so, in answer to your question:
Does Z still have all his hair?
The answer is: doesn't he wish? No. He has a ton in the back of his head that is soft as silk, but it is very thin on top now. You can see serious scalp, and he hates it, probably because he has such a big ole head. His hair is still that pretty deep chocolate brown though. He is absolutely dying to do a some type of hair grafting. Also, Mr. Z barely has any wrinkles either at almost 41, but that could very well be because he loves – and men, take note!- alpha hydroxy cream and uses it religiously on the borderline of fanatically every single day. He just has a faint smattering of crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his skin is baby soft.
Now then, Cheryl b thinks she asked me a lame question, but it would only be lame if I wasn't really in to the wholeHarry Potter phenomon, which I just happen to be! Books, movies, everything. In fact, Arianna and I sat today and plunked Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the DVD player and had a good ole time watching it together. So, Cheryl asked me this:
If you were a teacher at Hogwarts what would you teach?
Ooooh, I could SO fit in at Hogwarts - if I was a witch and had those talents, that is!- so I would have to say it's a toss up between Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I also like the whole Transfiguration thing too, imagine! I could let my students practice on Monster! Whoot! All day long I could watch her turning from a bullfrog to a snake, to a rat, to a spider,to a fly, to an ardvark, to a squirrel.... ahhh, the possiblities are endless.
I'm curious about my readers. If YOU could be a teacher at Hogwarts, what would y'all teach? In order to help you decide, I've included this handy dandy little link for ya! Wasn't that nice of me?
Mare Imbrium said this, this week:
Okay. We can see you're not shy, and you're not messy...so what's your secret weakness (like kryptonite, maybe)? Do you procrastinate? Do you get distracted easily (that would be mine) or something like that? Sorry, that's all I can come up with.
Hey Mare, does French bread count? I'm a sucker for French bread. Proper French bread. With real creamy butter. *drool*. Um, no, I guess that doesn't count.
Ummm, let me see… I'd have to say that I do tend to get distracted somewhat easily, but just as often, I can be strangely focused as well. I used to be one hell of a procrastinator, but I've gotten so burned by being like that, that I'm much better now. I still sometimes procrastinate doing the one thing at work that I hate… filing. Which I always find strange, because I'm such a control freak and so organized that filing would naturally fall into that, but sometimes, I can let the filing pile up a bit (in organized piles, mind you) but then, as if I get a bee up my a*s or something, I will file like MAD one day and re-organize everything while I'm at it! Weird, I know.
I'd have to say my biggest weakness is daydreaming. Maybe because I am such a visual person, I'm not sure. But I'm a kid who always had written on their report cards, and notes from teacher "Cyn is habitually daydreaming in class and has been caught staring dazedly out the window". My answer when confronted with that was a sheepish look paired with "but the class was BORING". I can't begin to tell you the number of times I was moved from my window seat in school. Too bad the teacher didn't realize that it wasn't necessarily the window distracting me and that isn't what was needed for me to daydream or be distracted. Far from it. Hell, I could zone out on the pattern on my folder or the shirt of the guy sitting in front of me!
God help me if I had a really good descriptive textbook in something I liked like Science or History. If the history story was interesting to me, I'd be picturing the text like a movie in my head. (told you I'm a visual person, now didn't I?)
Another thing. I’m the last person who can sit in a lecture or conference. It has to be a very dynamic speaker to hold my attention, because otherwise? I get drowsy. This gave me serious problems in High School and College particularly. Not to mention seminars I've attended in my adult life. I think that is one of the reasons I like watching Bill Clinton give speeches. He is a very good, and dynamic speaker. He holds my attention, an impressive feat, I must admit.
How's THAT for Kryptonite, babycakes?
Carrie Jo asked me sometihng that was actually much more difucult to answer than I originally imagined it would be, if only because for my whole life I am used to putting others first, waaaay before me. Here it is:
If you had just ONE wish that you were required to use for yourself (no world peace or ending world hunger wishes), what would it be (beside Monster moving to Antarctica)?
Actually Carrie Jo, hell if I know. Let me think now....
How about money? Yeah, at the risk of sounding totally materialistic, and since you took away my world peace, and disappearing Monster options, I guess I have to go for money.
I wouldn't want to be Bill Gates rich, not by a long shot, but, I would wish for a never empty, interest-free bank account. That way I could always use whatever money I wanted, when I wanted it, and not have to worry about not having it, or too little.
At least I wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to, and I could travel and see all the places I've always wanted to see. Monster and her money lovin children could kiss my white ass, cause I'd be the one with the bucks then! (Severely materialistic people y'all). So I would do this with my bottomless pit bank account.Ahhhhh, all the things I could do. I could travel, as previously mentinoed, shop, not have to worry about paying for a top rate education for my daughter, get myself knocked up with the assistance of the finest IVF specialist in the world, THEN, get a killer tummy tuck and booby lift after I was all done breastfeeding my TWINS, while I was at it, have them do something about the part of my body I absolutely HATE.... my neck. then, of course, more shopping. (Did I mention that another kryptonite for me is jewellery? I love jewellery. Bring on the pretties!!!!) I'd buy myself a house in Ireland, and one in Scotland- a beautifully referbished castle, preferably! and custom build myself my dream house in the US. buy a couple of lovely cars. I'd buy a nice fat life-insurance policy on myself and make Arianna and the twins my beneficiaries so they would be set for life-just in case.
Hows that Carrie Jo? (you know I'd take you on some of my vacations, now dontcha? I just couldn't mention it up there, since you specified it had to be for ME!)
Well, that's about it for my answers this week. Until my next "I'm SO gonna blog THIS!" moment, I'm signing out.
Ta-ta my lovlies!
???????????????????
As if I wasn't already saying "WHAT THE FU*K?" all day long due to Z a) ignoring me b) giving me the silent treatment c) choosing NOT to go anywhere with our daughter as a family d) being an obnoxious SCHMUCK for NO reason because I SWEAR I said or did nothing excecpt wake up and make breakfast.
SO then, after Ari and I basically left when we were told to, we crawled in about 9:15pm,me still kind of in a daze after having teenage guys checking out my daughter with a kind of stupefied, frozen wonder on their faces and her completely oblivious to it all (just the way I like it. Her. Oblivious to it). So now I'm still dazed and also kind of wondering just where Z might have gotten off to, and Shony and Ari try to go in her room when I hear Shony gasp at the other end of the hallway and say "COME HERE!". So, I walk down the hall and stand in the darkened doorway of Ari's room and I couldn't quite believe the sight that met my eyes in the sliver of light shining on my daughters bed..........
Garfield, my 4 month old MALE cat was on top of Bandit, my 4 month, 1 week old MALE cat and, well, after I flipped on the light just to be sure I wasn't seeing things.... people, I swear to you that Garfield was trying to hump Bandit. Really. I stared at Garfee's flanks just to make sure I wasn't seeing things, and Bandit, well, he was taking it. Shony said "Can you belive this?" to which I replied "At least they're on a bed. heh".
Garfield was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't even realize we were there until I yanked Bandit out from under him saying "HEY! I'm pretty damn sure you're a BOY!!!!!!!" after which I flipped him over and stared at his genitals just to make sure, then I showed Shony "ISN"T THIS a BOY?!!!??" to which she agreed.
Garfield was giving me dirty looks and I grabbed him up saying "AND YOU! YOU ARE WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY too young to even be INTERESTED, learning bad habits from your Daddy, Huh?" (Maximus, not Z. Are you joking? Sex? What's THAT?) Because Z thought it would be fun to keep the 3 females that I didn't know were back in heat in with Max and Sigfried, who, up until a few days ago, was a virgin. I swear, he has to start buying the goddamn cat food.
I'm so shocked that I completely forgot which class at Hogwarts I was planning to teach, Cheryl b!
Oh my GOD. My CATS ARE GAY.
Inquisition answers to follow shortly, as soon as I get over my shock.
As if I wasn't already saying "WHAT THE FU*K?" all day long due to Z a) ignoring me b) giving me the silent treatment c) choosing NOT to go anywhere with our daughter as a family d) being an obnoxious SCHMUCK for NO reason because I SWEAR I said or did nothing excecpt wake up and make breakfast.
SO then, after Ari and I basically left when we were told to, we crawled in about 9:15pm,me still kind of in a daze after having teenage guys checking out my daughter with a kind of stupefied, frozen wonder on their faces and her completely oblivious to it all (just the way I like it. Her. Oblivious to it). So now I'm still dazed and also kind of wondering just where Z might have gotten off to, and Shony and Ari try to go in her room when I hear Shony gasp at the other end of the hallway and say "COME HERE!". So, I walk down the hall and stand in the darkened doorway of Ari's room and I couldn't quite believe the sight that met my eyes in the sliver of light shining on my daughters bed..........
Garfield, my 4 month old MALE cat was on top of Bandit, my 4 month, 1 week old MALE cat and, well, after I flipped on the light just to be sure I wasn't seeing things.... people, I swear to you that Garfield was trying to hump Bandit. Really. I stared at Garfee's flanks just to make sure I wasn't seeing things, and Bandit, well, he was taking it. Shony said "Can you belive this?" to which I replied "At least they're on a bed. heh".
Garfield was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't even realize we were there until I yanked Bandit out from under him saying "HEY! I'm pretty damn sure you're a BOY!!!!!!!" after which I flipped him over and stared at his genitals just to make sure, then I showed Shony "ISN"T THIS a BOY?!!!??" to which she agreed.
Garfield was giving me dirty looks and I grabbed him up saying "AND YOU! YOU ARE WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY too young to even be INTERESTED, learning bad habits from your Daddy, Huh?" (Maximus, not Z. Are you joking? Sex? What's THAT?) Because Z thought it would be fun to keep the 3 females that I didn't know were back in heat in with Max and Sigfried, who, up until a few days ago, was a virgin. I swear, he has to start buying the goddamn cat food.
I'm so shocked that I completely forgot which class at Hogwarts I was planning to teach, Cheryl b!
Oh my GOD. My CATS ARE GAY.
Inquisition answers to follow shortly, as soon as I get over my shock.
5/26/2005
A Confession of a Different Sort
Well friends, I think I know how Dr. Frankenstein felt. "I've created a Monster!"
He was such a wussy. I've created TWO. Et tu, mo-fo? And absolutely shameless ones at that. You see, as I type, I'm sort of ashamed to admit that, well, Garfield has his fat, orangey-red stripey head and ONE paw in a 'school size' pack of Fritos and he is growling his ass off, my dears. Growling at who, you may ask? Certainly not me (he knows better!), but at Bandit who is crunching the one or two I gave him to get Garfield off his butt. Excecpt that now? Bandit likes them VERY MUCH, and so we have a bit of a standoff.
Those Fritos were orignially mine, or at least I thought they were. At least they let me have a couple of them.
Let me, you may ask. Well, yes. See, one minute, I had the little pack in my hand, the next thing I knew, Bandit was on my lap with one paw in the bag, which kind ruined the whole guilty pleasure junk food fix.
And it wasn't just any junk food fix, either. It was real, honest-to-goodness AMERICAN JUNK FOOD, which is pretty much non existant where I live. Sure, they have products like Lays potato chips and Cheetos, Doritos (ohmygoid! yum) and such, but they are DIFFERENT, and made usually in Saudi Arabia by companies licsenced to do so but honestly, they DO NOT TASTE THE SAME AT ALL. SO imaine my pitiful excitement to find a motherload of American junk food being stocked on the shelves of the little 7-11 style grocerey store down the street from my house? Whooooooo. Hot DAMN y'all. I wanted to hug the owner of the store, and while he is really nice and friendly and kind of hot, well, who wants gossip, ya know? Over real Cheetos and Sour Cream n-Onion Ruffles? I think not. So I settled for drooling in the aisle and carefully palpatating the bags for least amount of breakage. I WILL admit that I did a little wiggle of happiness at the sight of the bag of Roll'd Gold pretzels, though. (think I have a chance of getting this guy to bring Hostess products? Hmmmm.)
Damn, I love me some pretzels.
So, did I also mention that the cats, my boys, are also addicted to Cheetos also? As is, Bandit is naturally terrotorial, and if Garfield even sits within a foot of me in either direction, Bandit gets up in his face like "a-hole! My MAMA!", then proceeds to walk up my body, press his nose to mine while looking in my eyes, then settles himself on my chest jealous as hell. Imagine if I DARE to give some yummy stuff to Garfee? Yeah, Me, SO in trouble if I don't distribute evenly.
So,I suppose my only solution now is to hide and munch, huh?
Figures.
On a different note.
By the way, questions? Any last questions? you've got about 10 hours to get them in.
Well friends, I think I know how Dr. Frankenstein felt. "I've created a Monster!"
He was such a wussy. I've created TWO. Et tu, mo-fo? And absolutely shameless ones at that. You see, as I type, I'm sort of ashamed to admit that, well, Garfield has his fat, orangey-red stripey head and ONE paw in a 'school size' pack of Fritos and he is growling his ass off, my dears. Growling at who, you may ask? Certainly not me (he knows better!), but at Bandit who is crunching the one or two I gave him to get Garfield off his butt. Excecpt that now? Bandit likes them VERY MUCH, and so we have a bit of a standoff.
Those Fritos were orignially mine, or at least I thought they were. At least they let me have a couple of them.
Let me, you may ask. Well, yes. See, one minute, I had the little pack in my hand, the next thing I knew, Bandit was on my lap with one paw in the bag, which kind ruined the whole guilty pleasure junk food fix.
And it wasn't just any junk food fix, either. It was real, honest-to-goodness AMERICAN JUNK FOOD, which is pretty much non existant where I live. Sure, they have products like Lays potato chips and Cheetos, Doritos (ohmygoid! yum) and such, but they are DIFFERENT, and made usually in Saudi Arabia by companies licsenced to do so but honestly, they DO NOT TASTE THE SAME AT ALL. SO imaine my pitiful excitement to find a motherload of American junk food being stocked on the shelves of the little 7-11 style grocerey store down the street from my house? Whooooooo. Hot DAMN y'all. I wanted to hug the owner of the store, and while he is really nice and friendly and kind of hot, well, who wants gossip, ya know? Over real Cheetos and Sour Cream n-Onion Ruffles? I think not. So I settled for drooling in the aisle and carefully palpatating the bags for least amount of breakage. I WILL admit that I did a little wiggle of happiness at the sight of the bag of Roll'd Gold pretzels, though. (think I have a chance of getting this guy to bring Hostess products? Hmmmm.)
Damn, I love me some pretzels.
So, did I also mention that the cats, my boys, are also addicted to Cheetos also? As is, Bandit is naturally terrotorial, and if Garfield even sits within a foot of me in either direction, Bandit gets up in his face like "a-hole! My MAMA!", then proceeds to walk up my body, press his nose to mine while looking in my eyes, then settles himself on my chest jealous as hell. Imagine if I DARE to give some yummy stuff to Garfee? Yeah, Me, SO in trouble if I don't distribute evenly.
So,I suppose my only solution now is to hide and munch, huh?
Figures.
On a different note.
By the way, questions? Any last questions? you've got about 10 hours to get them in.
5/25/2005
Bush-ism’s my SWEET ASS.
Because really, I’m discovering Dubya has very little over on my boss. Or is it the other way around? I'm not quite sure. You be the judge, hmm?
Here’s proof just in case you think I might be being a tad bit unfair. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is a real sweetheart, but, jeeeeeeez!!!! Sometimes? Serious Dubya/Homer moments. (Lord give me strength):
My boss was giving interviews to the press yesterday (he's in all the papers today) and he was telling them information "off the record" ie: stuff that isn't supposed to be widely known or things that haven’t happened yet but are in the pipeline.
So of course you know exactly what they printed, right? Yeah. Precisely.
Then today, while going through the articles and coverage, he said to our head guy in Marketing & PR: "Oh NO!! I told them not to quote me and that it was off the record!"
The Marketing & PR guy had a BLAST telling me this, and really, who could blame him?
Hellooooooooooooo? The PRESS? “Off the record”? Are you HIGH ON CRACK???? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhahahahahahahahaa.
I rest my case. What is your verdict?
Because really, I’m discovering Dubya has very little over on my boss. Or is it the other way around? I'm not quite sure. You be the judge, hmm?
Here’s proof just in case you think I might be being a tad bit unfair. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is a real sweetheart, but, jeeeeeeez!!!! Sometimes? Serious Dubya/Homer moments. (Lord give me strength):
My boss was giving interviews to the press yesterday (he's in all the papers today) and he was telling them information "off the record" ie: stuff that isn't supposed to be widely known or things that haven’t happened yet but are in the pipeline.
So of course you know exactly what they printed, right? Yeah. Precisely.
Then today, while going through the articles and coverage, he said to our head guy in Marketing & PR: "Oh NO!! I told them not to quote me and that it was off the record!"
The Marketing & PR guy had a BLAST telling me this, and really, who could blame him?
Hellooooooooooooo? The PRESS? “Off the record”? Are you HIGH ON CRACK???? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhahahahahahahahaa.
I rest my case. What is your verdict?
5/24/2005
This is a test............
Well darlings, I'm busy drowning at work- board meeting tomorrow and I'm in charge of the board, soooooooooooooooo........... ie: no time to blog. How depressing.
Therefore, please be so KIND as to leave me a question or 3 for this week's Inquisition and I will answer it (them) for you as soon as I get done.
And collapse from exhaustion.
We now return to our regularly scheduled program.........
Well darlings, I'm busy drowning at work- board meeting tomorrow and I'm in charge of the board, soooooooooooooooo........... ie: no time to blog. How depressing.
Therefore, please be so KIND as to leave me a question or 3 for this week's Inquisition and I will answer it (them) for you as soon as I get done.
And collapse from exhaustion.
We now return to our regularly scheduled program.........
5/21/2005
Time to Pray
Just got a call from Mama a little bit ago. Seems that she has spoken with my step-mother and my Daddy is not doing too well. (I was right. I told Mama on the phone the other day something was wrong with him. WHY did I have to be right??) He's been in the hospital since last Friday, so that is 9 days now, with pneumonia. Step-mom told Mama not to tell me, and Mama said "The Hell I won't! She adores her father, you should see his picture all over her house! She deserves to know, she will want to pray for him." Hence my phone call. (Ok, well, she told me that, and the fact that my brothers had a knock down drag out argument that, it seems, escelated into a full blown whopass brawl and now they aren't on speaking terms. No one knows what triggered it. Ugh.)
While pneumonia isn't always fatal there are a few concerns. He'll be 75 in September, and has had numerous strokes and heart attacks, to the point of flat-lining and being brought back more than twice. He's also a Type 2 diabetic that is barely kept under control with meds. Obviously, Daddy is a fighter. But I'm worried because he's been in so long with what he is in with.
Worried is actually quite an understatement and I feel like absolute crap too. I was supposed to go see him last October, but had to cancel my trip when I lost my job. It was so hard for me to tell him that I wasn't coming, when he was honestly so excited I was coming.
Mama told me last time she spoke with him he kept asking her "What happened to October? I was supposed to see my girl finally. What happened to October?" Man, I feel like a heel. Felt like one then, feel like an even bigger one now.
I think I'll go pray now, bad Catholic that I am. He can probably use all the prayers he can.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven... hallowed be thy name...."
Just got a call from Mama a little bit ago. Seems that she has spoken with my step-mother and my Daddy is not doing too well. (I was right. I told Mama on the phone the other day something was wrong with him. WHY did I have to be right??) He's been in the hospital since last Friday, so that is 9 days now, with pneumonia. Step-mom told Mama not to tell me, and Mama said "The Hell I won't! She adores her father, you should see his picture all over her house! She deserves to know, she will want to pray for him." Hence my phone call. (Ok, well, she told me that, and the fact that my brothers had a knock down drag out argument that, it seems, escelated into a full blown whopass brawl and now they aren't on speaking terms. No one knows what triggered it. Ugh.)
While pneumonia isn't always fatal there are a few concerns. He'll be 75 in September, and has had numerous strokes and heart attacks, to the point of flat-lining and being brought back more than twice. He's also a Type 2 diabetic that is barely kept under control with meds. Obviously, Daddy is a fighter. But I'm worried because he's been in so long with what he is in with.
Worried is actually quite an understatement and I feel like absolute crap too. I was supposed to go see him last October, but had to cancel my trip when I lost my job. It was so hard for me to tell him that I wasn't coming, when he was honestly so excited I was coming.
Mama told me last time she spoke with him he kept asking her "What happened to October? I was supposed to see my girl finally. What happened to October?" Man, I feel like a heel. Felt like one then, feel like an even bigger one now.
I think I'll go pray now, bad Catholic that I am. He can probably use all the prayers he can.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven... hallowed be thy name...."
The ROWRRR Factor
I've got a new crush, y'all,or maybe just a previous one recently rekindled, I'm not really sure. The new object of my affections at present is…
Rob Thomas. Rowwwwwwwwwwwwrrrrr. *shudder, droool*
For those of you giving your monitor a blank stare, let me educate you. He is the lead singer of of Matchbox 20 and wrote the song "Tragedy" (which I really like also, come to think of it!) for Marc Anthony (aka Mr. J-Lo) and if you are still thinking "wtf?" then perhaps you remember him from a song he did with Carlos SANTANA a couple of years ago that was played to DEATH.
Ah! I see light bulbs going off now! Yesssss! And he has a new solo album out and a single "Don't Want To Be Lonely" on the Billboard Top 20 right now. Go on, have a listen. Oh my! Listen to the words. Oh my, oh my, ohhhh my!
I really LOVE that song. I have to go buy that cd. *Chants 'Come on Payday'! " Rob has major ROWRRRRR factor. He is damn sexy. He's mmmm mmmmm, GOOD! And I lurve the way he sings… it's like he's growling. Like I said, rowrrrrrr.
You all know my tastes tend to run to the dark haired, tall Irish or Scottish men, but once in a while there is a yummy American to tempt my taste buds and my, but he is awfully tempting. Yes, I think he'll do nicely in my male harem.
ROWRR Factor is for someone that appeals to you in such a way as to get your senses thrumming, for whatever reason. The sound of their voice sends a shiver down your spine. When you look at them, you have very naughty and wonderful thoughts of what you wouldn't mind doing to them, with them, whatever. Someone that makes you body tingle in interesting places. Ie: all over and in some places more than others.
Does anyone else agree with me about his level of hotness? Who do YOU think has ROWRRR Factor?
And Rob honey? You don't have to be lonely any more! *kiss*
I've got a new crush, y'all,or maybe just a previous one recently rekindled, I'm not really sure. The new object of my affections at present is…
Rob Thomas. Rowwwwwwwwwwwwrrrrr. *shudder, droool*
For those of you giving your monitor a blank stare, let me educate you. He is the lead singer of of Matchbox 20 and wrote the song "Tragedy" (which I really like also, come to think of it!) for Marc Anthony (aka Mr. J-Lo) and if you are still thinking "wtf?" then perhaps you remember him from a song he did with Carlos SANTANA a couple of years ago that was played to DEATH.
Ah! I see light bulbs going off now! Yesssss! And he has a new solo album out and a single "Don't Want To Be Lonely" on the Billboard Top 20 right now. Go on, have a listen. Oh my! Listen to the words. Oh my, oh my, ohhhh my!
I really LOVE that song. I have to go buy that cd. *Chants 'Come on Payday'! " Rob has major ROWRRRRR factor. He is damn sexy. He's mmmm mmmmm, GOOD! And I lurve the way he sings… it's like he's growling. Like I said, rowrrrrrr.
You all know my tastes tend to run to the dark haired, tall Irish or Scottish men, but once in a while there is a yummy American to tempt my taste buds and my, but he is awfully tempting. Yes, I think he'll do nicely in my male harem.
ROWRR Factor is for someone that appeals to you in such a way as to get your senses thrumming, for whatever reason. The sound of their voice sends a shiver down your spine. When you look at them, you have very naughty and wonderful thoughts of what you wouldn't mind doing to them, with them, whatever. Someone that makes you body tingle in interesting places. Ie: all over and in some places more than others.
Does anyone else agree with me about his level of hotness? Who do YOU think has ROWRRR Factor?
And Rob honey? You don't have to be lonely any more! *kiss*
5/20/2005
Scarlett Cyn , the MYTH BUSTER
This is basically a Public Service Announcement for women .
Why? Because while mall prowling with Z and Arianna - ok, fine, Ari and I were plowing our way through a scoop of Orange Sherbert (me) and Red raspberry Sherbert (Ari) - and I see something from far that just strikes me as... hootchie. It's been a while since I've seen something this... wrong and I just have to do my little bit for the planet.
Ladies, Sisters! Lend me your ears!
There is a myth that I must fix. I cannot handle seeing this. It is SO Britney Spears, and we don't want to look trashy, now do we?
Therefore, I feel I must let those of you not in the know, well, know! Wearing a black bra under a white blouse is just WRONG. If your mama told you that a black bra under white doesn't show? She lied. I'm sorry, but she did. Proof was the girl I saw today. I could see that black bra from good 75 feet away. It was even more obvious the closer she got to me.
SO please. Don't do it. It just looks tacky. Ok? Blush, or beige or cream under white is fine if you are Caucasian. Black? DOES NOT WORK.
Thank you. This is my good deed for the day.
This is basically a Public Service Announcement for women .
Why? Because while mall prowling with Z and Arianna - ok, fine, Ari and I were plowing our way through a scoop of Orange Sherbert (me) and Red raspberry Sherbert (Ari) - and I see something from far that just strikes me as... hootchie. It's been a while since I've seen something this... wrong and I just have to do my little bit for the planet.
Ladies, Sisters! Lend me your ears!
There is a myth that I must fix. I cannot handle seeing this. It is SO Britney Spears, and we don't want to look trashy, now do we?
Therefore, I feel I must let those of you not in the know, well, know! Wearing a black bra under a white blouse is just WRONG. If your mama told you that a black bra under white doesn't show? She lied. I'm sorry, but she did. Proof was the girl I saw today. I could see that black bra from good 75 feet away. It was even more obvious the closer she got to me.
SO please. Don't do it. It just looks tacky. Ok? Blush, or beige or cream under white is fine if you are Caucasian. Black? DOES NOT WORK.
Thank you. This is my good deed for the day.
5/19/2005
The Inquisition Confession – Week 24 (I think)
Am I a tease or what?
I totally planned on answering your questions last night, but I got a wee bit tied up, and SO not in a fun way!
Anyway, on to my answers.
Cheryl b asked me something really different and unique:
Close your eyes and picture the perfect meal. Tell me about it. Who's there? What are you eating, drinking? What do you smell? If you're talking, what about? What is the table set with?
Food: Roast beef. A huge roasted turkey. both will all the trimmings. A leg of lamb (although I don't eat It personally, my guests may!) Soup, salad, appetizers, lots of freshly made bread. (I'm such a meat eater) A lovely fine wine with the meal. A dazzling array of desserts. After dinner liqueur.
What do I smell? I smell the faint perfume of a 100 beeswax candles in candelabras and set around the room and the fragrance of the fresh flowers in the centerpiece. The slight smell of the polish used to wax the cherrywood table to a high sheen. The smell of the perfumes of the women present mingling together, myself included. and of course, I can smell the delicious food.
The table is set with the most beautiful fine china and Bacarrat Crystal. Beautifully polished sterling silver flatware. Fine Irish lace on the table and edging the cloth napkins.
The people I'm sitting with? A strange combination, I'm sure. My Nana. (Oh to have her back, if only for one night) My sister. (ditto). Just to let them both know how much I love them, how much they mean to me, and how very much they are missed. I would want them to see Arianna. That they live on through her in so many ways, even though they are gone. On that note, I would like to have my Grandmother Mildred and Grandfather Randall there too, (Mama's Parents) since they died before I was born.
Queen Elizabeth I of England. The Virgin Queen. Oh. I would ask her everything! She is the most fascinating woman to me! Then, naturally, being the shy person I am, I'd ask if she was really a virgin, or was she a 'technical' one. (She had a few too many 'favorites' if you ask me!) Ha ha! I'd like her to see what her decisions and sacrifices did for the country. She made England what it is today. A superpower.
Bill Clinton (all you Republicans, HUSH!). I just like listening to his mind work and the stuff that comes out of his mouth. He is a brilliant speaker, I think. (Would have to keep him far away from Sister Shelly and Queen Bess. He's an awfully friendly fellow!)
My Dad. I'd love to watch He and Fmr President Clinton chat. Dad is pretty brilliant and charming too!
Mama. Because, well, DUH! Nana was her MIL, and they adored each other. Mama always says what a great MIL Nana was. There are a few others, but they escape me at present.
Perhaps because I think I'm running a fever.
Pirate Wench asked me this one:
What will your funeral be like?
Well, hopefully it won't be what Monster-In-Law hoped for me-and frequently. ie: the sooner the better and she said (well, prayed for actually) right in my face, spitting: "When you die, soon Inshallah (means: God Willing), I will laugh, dance at your gravesite and sing, then I will shit and pee on you before they cover you with the dirt! " I've actually heard this more times than I can count. (Hey Isabel!! This is merely when I cross the room or the hallway saying nothing, nor even looking at her.)
I know one thing for sure, I do NOT, repeat DO NOT want to be buried here in Bahrain, even if, God forbid, I die here in the near future, I want my body shipped out. (There! I put it on the internet. Now the whole planet will know my wishes!)
If I could have it done anyway I like, I would like to be buried in one of two places, even if it were alone. Either on the coast of Ireland or Scotland - two places I love in the whole world- under a tree, overlooking the sea. I hope that the people that truly loved me and respected me will come to my funeral, not people that come out of propriety, I don't want them there.
What will probably happen? I'll get dumped in a hole somewhere, no one will remember to even give me a gravestone and forget I even existed within 6 months. Well, except for my daughter. She'll remember me.
It's kind of funny you asked me this question Wenchie. I just received my life insurance certificate from work this week. I looked at it and thought "Damn! I'm more valuable dead than alive! Heh!"
Mare Imbrium ! Where have you been girlfriend and what have you been up to? I missed ya!
Mare asked me:
But what's your favorite part of life in Bahrain?
A very good question. There is good and bad everywhere. Probably quality of life, such as it is. It's a tax-haven. (Which is why it is the banking center of the whole Middle East!) No tax on food, cars, clothes, anything.
Aside from my crazy working hours sometimes. But that is just really because I have so very much responsibility at work and care a great deal about the quality of my work.
I also like the fact that the country is really developing and growing and I'm witnessing it, day by day, month by month, and now, since 1998, year-by-year. I like that Bahrain is a combination of the old, the traditional, and the new. It isn't one or the other. The Bahraini people are, for the most part, very kind and hospitable and friendly. Bahrain is called the Island of Smiles for good reason. The best way I can think of to explain it is that the people here are much like the Southerner's in the US. Renown for their kindness, graciousness and hospitality.
I like that most Arab and Middle Eastern men that I have run into here are still gentlemen. They hold a door for a lady, or the elevator for that matter and 9 times out of 10 will insist on a lady being first. If you go to the bank, Dept of Motor Vehicles, or other such places and there is a huge ass line with tons of men?? The security will come and take you to the front of the line so the woman doesn't have to wait if the staff that work there haven't already done so! I LOVE that about Bahrain, actually.
Isabel, a new commenter on my blog asked me this, which I choose to take as a question for me this week,
You tell us about Monster and how absolutely crazy she is. Why is that? What makes her do these crazy things and act this crazy way? What does she have against you?
Honestly Isabel, I have been trying to figure out for over 15 years what the real problem is. I've tried to understand her. I've tried like HELL to make her love me, I'd settle for LIKE me, even. I've bought her cigs for her and her booze too, and helped her hide it from her sons. I've kept her screwing our neighbor in America a secret too. (ok. Until now) I can say with a completely clear conscious that I have done everything possible to get along with her. She has called me bitch, whore, cu*t, sh*thole, cussed me out , spit in my face, hit me, slapped me, pulled my hair, and even this, I didn't yell at her. I just begged her to leave me alone and stop. I would lock myself in my bedroom and turn on the TV or radio or both to try to drown out her shouting and screaming curses at me from DOWNSTAIRS that even through the noise, I know Catrina heard at least once while on the phone and asked me what that was, and my mom heard it several times while on the phone too. (In case any of you are wondering, No. She did this when her sons were NOT around. When it was just she and I in the house.) I tried telling z when I would take all I could, she would lie and deny it, and he would always, ALWAYS believe her. (In fact, still does most of the time) I was too ashamed to tell my Mom. I definitely couldn't tell my dad or the rest of my family. They were all pretty much set against the marriage in the first place. And I was determined to make it work. My Mom had no idea of the extent of how bad things were until she came to visit me here in Bahrain in 1999 after my almost dying 3 times within 2 -3 months. Mama came to take care of me, because she knew without my saying that I was basically on my own here. Within 3 days, mama took me aside and told me she was pissed at me, pissed for not telling her what and how I've been living for years and years. At that point 9 years. Pissed at me suffering in virtual silence and not telling her. After 2 weeks, after the 3 days traveling it took her to get her, she wanted to turn around and go back home, but stayed because I had to have another surgery. Monster would love to throw the vacuum at my mom and tell her to go clean. Or go pick my dirty clothes out of the dirty laundry and toss them at my mom and tell her "go wash". Then, while mama was here, is when I caught her, finally, stealing money from my wallet with my own eyes.
The only time I have ever gone after verbally her was when she said anything against my mom. (She is jealous of my mom because my mama is everything, HONESTLY, that Monster is not and wishes to be. My mama is platinum blond, NATURALLY, big blue eyes, gorgeous high cheekbones, peaches and cream skin, really cute figure - 5'7-, great natural nose, 1000 watt smile and she lights up a room when she walks in. Men are drawn to her like bees to honey, and she does nothing to anyone. She is so good hearted and generous. Oh yeah, and Mama is about 17 years younger than her too.) Anyway, saying anything about my mom, like calling her a w*ore, THAT would send me over the edge and make my hand itch to smack her, which I never did but I will admit it was a close one once or twice..
It really began within days of our return from our honeymoon.
She didn't allow any photo of me in the house. Not even a wedding photo. I wasn't allowed to cook. The groceries that my husband's money (and mine too!) bought? I wasn't allowed to touch them. Here is a list of my grievous complaints: I drank too much milk. My solution, I'll buy extra. Except that she didn’t like me using HER fridge. Or HER plates. OR HER glasses. OR HER pots and pans. I used too much shampoo and conditioner. (Hello? My hair is THICK AND LONG?!!) I bought my own. And the toilet paper. And the Coke or Pepsi. And bread. AND fruit. AND cheese. And…cleaning solutions (I am a clean freak, and cannot stand dust. She is the OPPOSITE. The stove had thick hard sticky grease on it that took ME 4 days to scrape off) My solution was to buy my own stock of pretty much everything with my own salary so I wasn't wasting her son's money, as she said. I have repeatedly heard that nothing is mine, but all her son's. sofa. Chair fridge. Tv. Curtains. Dishes. Cups. Etc… its just ffing ridiculous.
I wasn't allowed to make him a cup of coffee or tea. Or give him a glass of water. (Catrina. Back me up. You've seen this first hand.) If I wanted to cook something for my husband and the rest of the family (ie: her and my brother in law), I had to give her at least ONE week's notice, then go buy my own ingredients and not use the ones already in the house. If I tried to watch something on TV, the second I looked mildly interested, she would change the channel. Catrina has seen this too and more.
We went visiting some of their friends and I had juuuust enough of the language to understand that she was entertaining the gathering at large with her stories of being on the other side of the door when we were making love. In detail. I. Wanted. To. Die. Right. There. It's bad enough she was listening at the door, but to TELL A ROOMFULL OF PEOPLE????? It was her opinion that her son was not noisy enough, so I must not be any good. Hmmmmm. Where is a sinkhole when you need one, I ask?
The tons of wedding gifts we received? Were stored in the garage. I didn't get to use ONE SINGLE thing, was not allowed (other than the odd picture frame or vase in my own room) until I had been married six years.
She would go through my room, take everything out of the closet and drawers, throw it in mountains in the floor of my bedroom, throw tons of my stuff away without asking, and tell me to clean it all up. This would be waiting for me when I crawled in from work. Often. Did I mention that I am a OCD neat freak? My closet is organized by color. Long sleeve with like, then short sleeve. Work, and casual. Etc… even my underwear drawer is like this. So it is NOT as if my room and closet and things were a mess or anything.
Z and I worked separate shifts. He worked nights. When he got home, ( we lived in a 4-story condo counting the garage). I would be waiting for him all dolled up in pretty lingerie in our room, and she? Would be waiting to start the second the garage door leading into the house was opened. It would be a goddamn report with LOTS of drama and stuff. By the time he got up the 3 flights of stairs to me, with her trailing behind him, more often than not, he would walk in upset with me. And I would be looking at him pretty much dazed and confused.
He would also receive, nightly, a detailed report of my activities, whether he wanted it or not. "C came home from work. She had two bags from xyz grocery store, and she bought (rattles off list) and I think she bought some other things she took upstairs to the room. Then she got a phone call. I don't know WHO it was. That lasted 15 minutes. Then she came down. Drank _____. Ate_____. Watched TV for 30 minutes, then the phone rang, she talked for HALF AN HOUR, maybe it was her mom? Then after that, another phone call, but for 5 minutes only. Then she went back upstairs. Took a shower FOR 20 MINUTES! SO LONG! (again, I have a ton of hair, y'all). I think she washed her hair, because I heard the blow-dryer, then she came down and left the house. I don't know where she went. An hour later, she came back with 3 bags from Target, and I think one from a book store, cause the bag had a book on the outside). Then she drank tea. Got another phone call, I think it was that pregnant one (Catrina) Sometimes Catrina would get URGENT cravings for hot fudge mint choc chip sundae cravings and there was this old Mom & Pop coffeeshop in Pasadena that had the best one you ever had in your LIFE with homemade hot fudge and homemade mint choc chip ice cream. It seems that She would tell EVERYONE that I was going to meet a lover probably. Finally, when I found out, I said "I doubt it unless my lover is a 7 month's pregnant woman, which..... ew, I don't swing that way!"
I think that I should say that in the early years of my marriage, hell, for most of my marriage until maybe 4-5 years ago, I rarely went anywhere on my own unless I was with Z. Unless it was with my Mom or his. One major exception to this was Catrina when she was pregnant. I was her sidekick through this pregnancy. I was so damn excited about her baby you can't imagine. My going, or not going out, was a personal choice, not one that was imposed on me by anyone. I was just so wrapped up in my husband that I preferred to be with him; it wasn't very fun for me otherwise.
There is one other thing. For years, I rarely went ANYWHERE, and I mean ANYWHERE with my husband without Monster. I'm serious. The 7-11 on the corner. The grocery store. To the gas station. To the MOVIES. To DINNER. Out to pick up a pizza. To COSTCO. To the Bank. Mailbox. Pharmacy. Doctor. Just to go out for a drive. And the very few times we DID leave her ass at home? There would be hell to pay for DAYS. Literally. And then? I noticed that our excursions out would coincide with long distance calls on the phone bill to Bahrain.
Apparently she was SO pissed she would call HERE, on the OTHER SIDE OF THE PLANET, to complain about it, when she got through calling her daughter down the street. An innocent outing for us to, say, Target then the gas station, and to pick up a pizza on the way home? Would end up costing us a $80.00 phone call at least. Sometimes upwards of $200. For ONE PHONE CALL. When I moved here I heard about it and how everyone was shocked that she would call because "you guys didn't take her to the movies with you". This is NOT including the SHREIKING, Screaming, howling, hitting herself, throwing things GORILLA FIT she would have when we got home.
I (now) truly believe that it is not just me. That whomever he married, she would have a problem with, regardless of nationality. I do not think that it is a culture thing, which I will get into in a minute. Frankly, if he had married a Persian girl, and I know many Persian girls – and the ones I've met, and it has been MANY- that wouldn't put up with her crap.
As is, I think it is more telling that she really has NO friends, and her own children and grandchildren have very little, if anything, to do with her. People have to drive by our house to get to her granddaughter's house. Do any of them stop? Her own daughter? No. Her granddaughters? No. Do they call? Rarely, if ever. No one can stand to be around her. She makes everyone miserable when she is around, which is why no one comes around.
I've done so much for her. More for her than her kids were doing for her. I would get off work (Z and I worked different shifts) and come home and tell her to go change, I was going to take her out. At least 5 nights a week, to do whatever she wanted.
I learned Persian mainly so that I could communicate with her, since we were living together and she refused to learn mine. THAT was both a curse and a blessing, speaking her language.
I thought maybe it was the fact that I was a foreigner, and that if I turned myself into the closest thing to a Persian girl I could, she would love me. I thought THAT was it. SO I learned the language. I can dance their different regional dances (better than many Iranians too!). I TAUGHT MYSELF to cook the food since she refused to teach me. There are very few dishes I don’t cook, and that is a HUGE repertoire- good enough that Persian natives have told me I should open my own Persian Restaurant. That didn't work either.
Then I thought if I gave her a grandchild, then she might love me just a little. Or at least be nice to me. Didn't work. She saw my child as a tool to use against me.
I've spent my whole day off driving her all over Southern California taking her to doctor's appointments when her own kids flat out refused to do so, and her grandkids too, then making a pleasant day of it by taking her to her own community for lunch and shopping. Then a nice 2 and a half hour drive in traffic home, then she would hop on the phone to her daughter that lived DOWN THE STREET and I would hear her say "ME? I didn't do anything today." WTF?? I did this for her even when I was 9 months pregnant in 110 degree temps that summer. Vomiting and getting car sick, having to pull over to the side of the road to puke every 15 minutes or so till we got there, because that's about the maximum time I could handle the nausea.
I used to believe my husband for many, MANY years when he made different excuses for her odd behavior. His favorite was "She's old, she's illiterate", and I believed it. He was lying to me. I can honestly say that if I had any inkling she would be like this, that my life would be like this, or, if I understood their language at that point, I don't think I would have married him, even as head over heels delusional and so full of hopes and dreams as I was then.
Anyway, I believed him and his excuses, making myself accept this strange ass stuff until I came HERE! Until I met her family in Iran. Until I met people that knew her when she was YOUNG.
Turns out she's always been like this, and her blood family is not a whole hell of a lot better!
I have met people that knew my husband from the time he was very young and they said "they were such sweet boys, we often wondered how they ever came out of a woman like that!". I don't instigate any of these conversations at all, they usually start with "We've known her for years, you poor thing! She still lives with you?"
Looking back on our early relationship, when we were engaged, there was one incident that I kind of blew off at the time, with the help of Z purposely not telling me what was being said. It was our first Valentine's Day together, and he knew that I had always wanted a Persian cat. A cream one in particular. So, one night, after I got off work, when I got to his house, I heard this noise. I see something doing laps on the dining room chairs and he told me it was my Valentine's present. It was a cream colored Persian cat.
Monster threw the BIGGEST hissy fit that he spent that much money on me (I understand now, but didn't know what the hell her problem was at the time). I mean, we were engaged, and he was making pretty good money. What is the big deal? If he bought me anything, for anniversary, Christmas, birthday, any occasion, she would have a fit. And start throwing stuff. If he bought me jewelry, he bought for her also, then she threw it across the living room because the stone in mine was nicer she thought. No matter what I said to her, the most benign, innocent thing you could think of, like "Oh how blue the sky is today!" she would go and start gossip saying, "Can you BELIEVE she said the sky is black and is gonna rain."
This could go on for tons more. But it boils down to this: She has told me she wants him to divorce me. This she has said it often and right up in my face. And she went on to say she won't rest until he does. It doesn't matter that I have stood by her son and loved him with everything I have in me. Given all I have to give, financially, mentally, physically. Supported him and helped him through complete and total bankruptcy when he lost his job weeks after Ari was born, where he lost everything. (since nothing was in my name) And I mean everything. I swallowed my pride when I was breastfeeding Ari and went to WIC, for government help and coupons for milk, beans, cheese, cereal, etc.. so that my milk, at least, would be rich for Ari. Meanwhile trying to do everything I could; running from court to court trying to delay the inevitable. She cares about nothing, except herself. Problem is. I'm stubborn and determined, and that is probably why, along with, admittedly, a big old dose of stupidity, that I am still here. I looked at it as her winning, if I leave. Her getting her way.
I've done my best. And I truthfully can say, I have done NOTHING to deserve this.
Well, if you've made it to the bottom of this post, thanks for continuing to read.
I'm certain the next one will be more… cheerful.
Am I a tease or what?
I totally planned on answering your questions last night, but I got a wee bit tied up, and SO not in a fun way!
Anyway, on to my answers.
Cheryl b asked me something really different and unique:
Close your eyes and picture the perfect meal. Tell me about it. Who's there? What are you eating, drinking? What do you smell? If you're talking, what about? What is the table set with?
Food: Roast beef. A huge roasted turkey. both will all the trimmings. A leg of lamb (although I don't eat It personally, my guests may!) Soup, salad, appetizers, lots of freshly made bread. (I'm such a meat eater) A lovely fine wine with the meal. A dazzling array of desserts. After dinner liqueur.
What do I smell? I smell the faint perfume of a 100 beeswax candles in candelabras and set around the room and the fragrance of the fresh flowers in the centerpiece. The slight smell of the polish used to wax the cherrywood table to a high sheen. The smell of the perfumes of the women present mingling together, myself included. and of course, I can smell the delicious food.
The table is set with the most beautiful fine china and Bacarrat Crystal. Beautifully polished sterling silver flatware. Fine Irish lace on the table and edging the cloth napkins.
The people I'm sitting with? A strange combination, I'm sure. My Nana. (Oh to have her back, if only for one night) My sister. (ditto). Just to let them both know how much I love them, how much they mean to me, and how very much they are missed. I would want them to see Arianna. That they live on through her in so many ways, even though they are gone. On that note, I would like to have my Grandmother Mildred and Grandfather Randall there too, (Mama's Parents) since they died before I was born.
Queen Elizabeth I of England. The Virgin Queen. Oh. I would ask her everything! She is the most fascinating woman to me! Then, naturally, being the shy person I am, I'd ask if she was really a virgin, or was she a 'technical' one. (She had a few too many 'favorites' if you ask me!) Ha ha! I'd like her to see what her decisions and sacrifices did for the country. She made England what it is today. A superpower.
Bill Clinton (all you Republicans, HUSH!). I just like listening to his mind work and the stuff that comes out of his mouth. He is a brilliant speaker, I think. (Would have to keep him far away from Sister Shelly and Queen Bess. He's an awfully friendly fellow!)
My Dad. I'd love to watch He and Fmr President Clinton chat. Dad is pretty brilliant and charming too!
Mama. Because, well, DUH! Nana was her MIL, and they adored each other. Mama always says what a great MIL Nana was. There are a few others, but they escape me at present.
Perhaps because I think I'm running a fever.
Pirate Wench asked me this one:
What will your funeral be like?
Well, hopefully it won't be what Monster-In-Law hoped for me-and frequently. ie: the sooner the better and she said (well, prayed for actually) right in my face, spitting: "When you die, soon Inshallah (means: God Willing), I will laugh, dance at your gravesite and sing, then I will shit and pee on you before they cover you with the dirt! " I've actually heard this more times than I can count. (Hey Isabel!! This is merely when I cross the room or the hallway saying nothing, nor even looking at her.)
I know one thing for sure, I do NOT, repeat DO NOT want to be buried here in Bahrain, even if, God forbid, I die here in the near future, I want my body shipped out. (There! I put it on the internet. Now the whole planet will know my wishes!)
If I could have it done anyway I like, I would like to be buried in one of two places, even if it were alone. Either on the coast of Ireland or Scotland - two places I love in the whole world- under a tree, overlooking the sea. I hope that the people that truly loved me and respected me will come to my funeral, not people that come out of propriety, I don't want them there.
What will probably happen? I'll get dumped in a hole somewhere, no one will remember to even give me a gravestone and forget I even existed within 6 months. Well, except for my daughter. She'll remember me.
It's kind of funny you asked me this question Wenchie. I just received my life insurance certificate from work this week. I looked at it and thought "Damn! I'm more valuable dead than alive! Heh!"
Mare Imbrium ! Where have you been girlfriend and what have you been up to? I missed ya!
Mare asked me:
But what's your favorite part of life in Bahrain?
A very good question. There is good and bad everywhere. Probably quality of life, such as it is. It's a tax-haven. (Which is why it is the banking center of the whole Middle East!) No tax on food, cars, clothes, anything.
Aside from my crazy working hours sometimes. But that is just really because I have so very much responsibility at work and care a great deal about the quality of my work.
I also like the fact that the country is really developing and growing and I'm witnessing it, day by day, month by month, and now, since 1998, year-by-year. I like that Bahrain is a combination of the old, the traditional, and the new. It isn't one or the other. The Bahraini people are, for the most part, very kind and hospitable and friendly. Bahrain is called the Island of Smiles for good reason. The best way I can think of to explain it is that the people here are much like the Southerner's in the US. Renown for their kindness, graciousness and hospitality.
I like that most Arab and Middle Eastern men that I have run into here are still gentlemen. They hold a door for a lady, or the elevator for that matter and 9 times out of 10 will insist on a lady being first. If you go to the bank, Dept of Motor Vehicles, or other such places and there is a huge ass line with tons of men?? The security will come and take you to the front of the line so the woman doesn't have to wait if the staff that work there haven't already done so! I LOVE that about Bahrain, actually.
Isabel, a new commenter on my blog asked me this, which I choose to take as a question for me this week,
You tell us about Monster and how absolutely crazy she is. Why is that? What makes her do these crazy things and act this crazy way? What does she have against you?
Honestly Isabel, I have been trying to figure out for over 15 years what the real problem is. I've tried to understand her. I've tried like HELL to make her love me, I'd settle for LIKE me, even. I've bought her cigs for her and her booze too, and helped her hide it from her sons. I've kept her screwing our neighbor in America a secret too. (ok. Until now) I can say with a completely clear conscious that I have done everything possible to get along with her. She has called me bitch, whore, cu*t, sh*thole, cussed me out , spit in my face, hit me, slapped me, pulled my hair, and even this, I didn't yell at her. I just begged her to leave me alone and stop. I would lock myself in my bedroom and turn on the TV or radio or both to try to drown out her shouting and screaming curses at me from DOWNSTAIRS that even through the noise, I know Catrina heard at least once while on the phone and asked me what that was, and my mom heard it several times while on the phone too. (In case any of you are wondering, No. She did this when her sons were NOT around. When it was just she and I in the house.) I tried telling z when I would take all I could, she would lie and deny it, and he would always, ALWAYS believe her. (In fact, still does most of the time) I was too ashamed to tell my Mom. I definitely couldn't tell my dad or the rest of my family. They were all pretty much set against the marriage in the first place. And I was determined to make it work. My Mom had no idea of the extent of how bad things were until she came to visit me here in Bahrain in 1999 after my almost dying 3 times within 2 -3 months. Mama came to take care of me, because she knew without my saying that I was basically on my own here. Within 3 days, mama took me aside and told me she was pissed at me, pissed for not telling her what and how I've been living for years and years. At that point 9 years. Pissed at me suffering in virtual silence and not telling her. After 2 weeks, after the 3 days traveling it took her to get her, she wanted to turn around and go back home, but stayed because I had to have another surgery. Monster would love to throw the vacuum at my mom and tell her to go clean. Or go pick my dirty clothes out of the dirty laundry and toss them at my mom and tell her "go wash". Then, while mama was here, is when I caught her, finally, stealing money from my wallet with my own eyes.
The only time I have ever gone after verbally her was when she said anything against my mom. (She is jealous of my mom because my mama is everything, HONESTLY, that Monster is not and wishes to be. My mama is platinum blond, NATURALLY, big blue eyes, gorgeous high cheekbones, peaches and cream skin, really cute figure - 5'7-, great natural nose, 1000 watt smile and she lights up a room when she walks in. Men are drawn to her like bees to honey, and she does nothing to anyone. She is so good hearted and generous. Oh yeah, and Mama is about 17 years younger than her too.) Anyway, saying anything about my mom, like calling her a w*ore, THAT would send me over the edge and make my hand itch to smack her, which I never did but I will admit it was a close one once or twice..
It really began within days of our return from our honeymoon.
She didn't allow any photo of me in the house. Not even a wedding photo. I wasn't allowed to cook. The groceries that my husband's money (and mine too!) bought? I wasn't allowed to touch them. Here is a list of my grievous complaints: I drank too much milk. My solution, I'll buy extra. Except that she didn’t like me using HER fridge. Or HER plates. OR HER glasses. OR HER pots and pans. I used too much shampoo and conditioner. (Hello? My hair is THICK AND LONG?!!) I bought my own. And the toilet paper. And the Coke or Pepsi. And bread. AND fruit. AND cheese. And…cleaning solutions (I am a clean freak, and cannot stand dust. She is the OPPOSITE. The stove had thick hard sticky grease on it that took ME 4 days to scrape off) My solution was to buy my own stock of pretty much everything with my own salary so I wasn't wasting her son's money, as she said. I have repeatedly heard that nothing is mine, but all her son's. sofa. Chair fridge. Tv. Curtains. Dishes. Cups. Etc… its just ffing ridiculous.
I wasn't allowed to make him a cup of coffee or tea. Or give him a glass of water. (Catrina. Back me up. You've seen this first hand.) If I wanted to cook something for my husband and the rest of the family (ie: her and my brother in law), I had to give her at least ONE week's notice, then go buy my own ingredients and not use the ones already in the house. If I tried to watch something on TV, the second I looked mildly interested, she would change the channel. Catrina has seen this too and more.
We went visiting some of their friends and I had juuuust enough of the language to understand that she was entertaining the gathering at large with her stories of being on the other side of the door when we were making love. In detail. I. Wanted. To. Die. Right. There. It's bad enough she was listening at the door, but to TELL A ROOMFULL OF PEOPLE????? It was her opinion that her son was not noisy enough, so I must not be any good. Hmmmmm. Where is a sinkhole when you need one, I ask?
The tons of wedding gifts we received? Were stored in the garage. I didn't get to use ONE SINGLE thing, was not allowed (other than the odd picture frame or vase in my own room) until I had been married six years.
She would go through my room, take everything out of the closet and drawers, throw it in mountains in the floor of my bedroom, throw tons of my stuff away without asking, and tell me to clean it all up. This would be waiting for me when I crawled in from work. Often. Did I mention that I am a OCD neat freak? My closet is organized by color. Long sleeve with like, then short sleeve. Work, and casual. Etc… even my underwear drawer is like this. So it is NOT as if my room and closet and things were a mess or anything.
Z and I worked separate shifts. He worked nights. When he got home, ( we lived in a 4-story condo counting the garage). I would be waiting for him all dolled up in pretty lingerie in our room, and she? Would be waiting to start the second the garage door leading into the house was opened. It would be a goddamn report with LOTS of drama and stuff. By the time he got up the 3 flights of stairs to me, with her trailing behind him, more often than not, he would walk in upset with me. And I would be looking at him pretty much dazed and confused.
He would also receive, nightly, a detailed report of my activities, whether he wanted it or not. "C came home from work. She had two bags from xyz grocery store, and she bought (rattles off list) and I think she bought some other things she took upstairs to the room. Then she got a phone call. I don't know WHO it was. That lasted 15 minutes. Then she came down. Drank _____. Ate_____. Watched TV for 30 minutes, then the phone rang, she talked for HALF AN HOUR, maybe it was her mom? Then after that, another phone call, but for 5 minutes only. Then she went back upstairs. Took a shower FOR 20 MINUTES! SO LONG! (again, I have a ton of hair, y'all). I think she washed her hair, because I heard the blow-dryer, then she came down and left the house. I don't know where she went. An hour later, she came back with 3 bags from Target, and I think one from a book store, cause the bag had a book on the outside). Then she drank tea. Got another phone call, I think it was that pregnant one (Catrina) Sometimes Catrina would get URGENT cravings for hot fudge mint choc chip sundae cravings and there was this old Mom & Pop coffeeshop in Pasadena that had the best one you ever had in your LIFE with homemade hot fudge and homemade mint choc chip ice cream. It seems that She would tell EVERYONE that I was going to meet a lover probably. Finally, when I found out, I said "I doubt it unless my lover is a 7 month's pregnant woman, which..... ew, I don't swing that way!"
I think that I should say that in the early years of my marriage, hell, for most of my marriage until maybe 4-5 years ago, I rarely went anywhere on my own unless I was with Z. Unless it was with my Mom or his. One major exception to this was Catrina when she was pregnant. I was her sidekick through this pregnancy. I was so damn excited about her baby you can't imagine. My going, or not going out, was a personal choice, not one that was imposed on me by anyone. I was just so wrapped up in my husband that I preferred to be with him; it wasn't very fun for me otherwise.
There is one other thing. For years, I rarely went ANYWHERE, and I mean ANYWHERE with my husband without Monster. I'm serious. The 7-11 on the corner. The grocery store. To the gas station. To the MOVIES. To DINNER. Out to pick up a pizza. To COSTCO. To the Bank. Mailbox. Pharmacy. Doctor. Just to go out for a drive. And the very few times we DID leave her ass at home? There would be hell to pay for DAYS. Literally. And then? I noticed that our excursions out would coincide with long distance calls on the phone bill to Bahrain.
Apparently she was SO pissed she would call HERE, on the OTHER SIDE OF THE PLANET, to complain about it, when she got through calling her daughter down the street. An innocent outing for us to, say, Target then the gas station, and to pick up a pizza on the way home? Would end up costing us a $80.00 phone call at least. Sometimes upwards of $200. For ONE PHONE CALL. When I moved here I heard about it and how everyone was shocked that she would call because "you guys didn't take her to the movies with you". This is NOT including the SHREIKING, Screaming, howling, hitting herself, throwing things GORILLA FIT she would have when we got home.
I (now) truly believe that it is not just me. That whomever he married, she would have a problem with, regardless of nationality. I do not think that it is a culture thing, which I will get into in a minute. Frankly, if he had married a Persian girl, and I know many Persian girls – and the ones I've met, and it has been MANY- that wouldn't put up with her crap.
As is, I think it is more telling that she really has NO friends, and her own children and grandchildren have very little, if anything, to do with her. People have to drive by our house to get to her granddaughter's house. Do any of them stop? Her own daughter? No. Her granddaughters? No. Do they call? Rarely, if ever. No one can stand to be around her. She makes everyone miserable when she is around, which is why no one comes around.
I've done so much for her. More for her than her kids were doing for her. I would get off work (Z and I worked different shifts) and come home and tell her to go change, I was going to take her out. At least 5 nights a week, to do whatever she wanted.
I learned Persian mainly so that I could communicate with her, since we were living together and she refused to learn mine. THAT was both a curse and a blessing, speaking her language.
I thought maybe it was the fact that I was a foreigner, and that if I turned myself into the closest thing to a Persian girl I could, she would love me. I thought THAT was it. SO I learned the language. I can dance their different regional dances (better than many Iranians too!). I TAUGHT MYSELF to cook the food since she refused to teach me. There are very few dishes I don’t cook, and that is a HUGE repertoire- good enough that Persian natives have told me I should open my own Persian Restaurant. That didn't work either.
Then I thought if I gave her a grandchild, then she might love me just a little. Or at least be nice to me. Didn't work. She saw my child as a tool to use against me.
I've spent my whole day off driving her all over Southern California taking her to doctor's appointments when her own kids flat out refused to do so, and her grandkids too, then making a pleasant day of it by taking her to her own community for lunch and shopping. Then a nice 2 and a half hour drive in traffic home, then she would hop on the phone to her daughter that lived DOWN THE STREET and I would hear her say "ME? I didn't do anything today." WTF?? I did this for her even when I was 9 months pregnant in 110 degree temps that summer. Vomiting and getting car sick, having to pull over to the side of the road to puke every 15 minutes or so till we got there, because that's about the maximum time I could handle the nausea.
I used to believe my husband for many, MANY years when he made different excuses for her odd behavior. His favorite was "She's old, she's illiterate", and I believed it. He was lying to me. I can honestly say that if I had any inkling she would be like this, that my life would be like this, or, if I understood their language at that point, I don't think I would have married him, even as head over heels delusional and so full of hopes and dreams as I was then.
Anyway, I believed him and his excuses, making myself accept this strange ass stuff until I came HERE! Until I met her family in Iran. Until I met people that knew her when she was YOUNG.
Turns out she's always been like this, and her blood family is not a whole hell of a lot better!
I have met people that knew my husband from the time he was very young and they said "they were such sweet boys, we often wondered how they ever came out of a woman like that!". I don't instigate any of these conversations at all, they usually start with "We've known her for years, you poor thing! She still lives with you?"
Looking back on our early relationship, when we were engaged, there was one incident that I kind of blew off at the time, with the help of Z purposely not telling me what was being said. It was our first Valentine's Day together, and he knew that I had always wanted a Persian cat. A cream one in particular. So, one night, after I got off work, when I got to his house, I heard this noise. I see something doing laps on the dining room chairs and he told me it was my Valentine's present. It was a cream colored Persian cat.
Monster threw the BIGGEST hissy fit that he spent that much money on me (I understand now, but didn't know what the hell her problem was at the time). I mean, we were engaged, and he was making pretty good money. What is the big deal? If he bought me anything, for anniversary, Christmas, birthday, any occasion, she would have a fit. And start throwing stuff. If he bought me jewelry, he bought for her also, then she threw it across the living room because the stone in mine was nicer she thought. No matter what I said to her, the most benign, innocent thing you could think of, like "Oh how blue the sky is today!" she would go and start gossip saying, "Can you BELIEVE she said the sky is black and is gonna rain."
This could go on for tons more. But it boils down to this: She has told me she wants him to divorce me. This she has said it often and right up in my face. And she went on to say she won't rest until he does. It doesn't matter that I have stood by her son and loved him with everything I have in me. Given all I have to give, financially, mentally, physically. Supported him and helped him through complete and total bankruptcy when he lost his job weeks after Ari was born, where he lost everything. (since nothing was in my name) And I mean everything. I swallowed my pride when I was breastfeeding Ari and went to WIC, for government help and coupons for milk, beans, cheese, cereal, etc.. so that my milk, at least, would be rich for Ari. Meanwhile trying to do everything I could; running from court to court trying to delay the inevitable. She cares about nothing, except herself. Problem is. I'm stubborn and determined, and that is probably why, along with, admittedly, a big old dose of stupidity, that I am still here. I looked at it as her winning, if I leave. Her getting her way.
I've done my best. And I truthfully can say, I have done NOTHING to deserve this.
Well, if you've made it to the bottom of this post, thanks for continuing to read.
I'm certain the next one will be more… cheerful.
5/18/2005
It's COMING!
Patience is a virtue, my Mama always said.
I'll give you a little tease of my Confession this week, shall I?
Here's the question I got from Carrie Jo this week:
My Q is: Do you always wear matching bra and undies or do you care? Weird question, but some women are really into that and some (like me) could care less usually but sometimes I like to match.
Actually Carrie Jo, I'm quite a bit like you for the most part but probably a bit more anal. I used to be more into it than I am now. It's not so much that I care, but that it's a habit.
But old habits DO die hard. SO, usually, even if it isn't a matching set, per se, if it's a white bra, white undies. Black bra, black undies. Pink, etc.. More often than not tho, it depends on what I'm wearing.
What's weird is that lately? I've been matching my undies to my nightie. which makes no sense since I refuse to, um, sleep in a nightie! Hell if I know why I do this.
And that, my darling, is your answer!
The rest to come later on. See you in a bit!
Patience is a virtue, my Mama always said.
I'll give you a little tease of my Confession this week, shall I?
Here's the question I got from Carrie Jo this week:
My Q is: Do you always wear matching bra and undies or do you care? Weird question, but some women are really into that and some (like me) could care less usually but sometimes I like to match.
Actually Carrie Jo, I'm quite a bit like you for the most part but probably a bit more anal. I used to be more into it than I am now. It's not so much that I care, but that it's a habit.
But old habits DO die hard. SO, usually, even if it isn't a matching set, per se, if it's a white bra, white undies. Black bra, black undies. Pink, etc.. More often than not tho, it depends on what I'm wearing.
What's weird is that lately? I've been matching my undies to my nightie. which makes no sense since I refuse to, um, sleep in a nightie! Hell if I know why I do this.
And that, my darling, is your answer!
The rest to come later on. See you in a bit!
5/16/2005
Oh NO!
Hell. I've gone and done it again! *Sigh*
I completely forgot to ask for Inquisition questions this week. So. Please, GIVE ME SOME, hmmm???
Questions! I meant QUESTIONS! What AM I going to do with you all? *flutters eyelashes*
Damn work. It totally distracts me from the more important things in life... like blogging.
Everyone, get your questions in, and I'll give you your answer as soon as humanly possible.
Also, as a side note. To all you bloggers out thereI would like your valued opinion, if you don't mind. What do you prefer? Movable type or TypePad or something else altogether? I would greatly appreciate any advice you would like to give me. Now keep in mind that html is not my forte, so I need to consider something user friendly.
Hell. I've gone and done it again! *Sigh*
I completely forgot to ask for Inquisition questions this week. So. Please, GIVE ME SOME, hmmm???
Questions! I meant QUESTIONS! What AM I going to do with you all? *flutters eyelashes*
Damn work. It totally distracts me from the more important things in life... like blogging.
Everyone, get your questions in, and I'll give you your answer as soon as humanly possible.
Also, as a side note. To all you bloggers out thereI would like your valued opinion, if you don't mind. What do you prefer? Movable type or TypePad or something else altogether? I would greatly appreciate any advice you would like to give me. Now keep in mind that html is not my forte, so I need to consider something user friendly.
5/15/2005
Dazed and Confused (more than usual)
My only excuse today is.... I had a crappy day at work.
Boss was being SNIDE to everyone, including me, and ballsy broad that I am? I didn't just take it. I politely pointed out that... well, he was "misinformed". (read: out of his fu*king mind WRONG)
It was one of those kind of days that NEVER seem to pass, which is rare for me,especially here at this job.
So, this afternoon I find myself sending my friend emails to work, to which I usually get a pretty prompt response (damn firewall, IM isn't available here, sob!) but I kept wondering why no reply? After about email no 3,one of which was "Monday greeting" where I was getting progressively more and more smart-ass, as usual, I realized one itsy problem.....
It's SUNDAY.
Make sure you guys don't pull anything while you're laughing at me, hmmm?
My only excuse today is.... I had a crappy day at work.
Boss was being SNIDE to everyone, including me, and ballsy broad that I am? I didn't just take it. I politely pointed out that... well, he was "misinformed". (read: out of his fu*king mind WRONG)
It was one of those kind of days that NEVER seem to pass, which is rare for me,especially here at this job.
So, this afternoon I find myself sending my friend emails to work, to which I usually get a pretty prompt response (damn firewall, IM isn't available here, sob!) but I kept wondering why no reply? After about email no 3,one of which was "Monday greeting" where I was getting progressively more and more smart-ass, as usual, I realized one itsy problem.....
It's SUNDAY.
Make sure you guys don't pull anything while you're laughing at me, hmmm?
5/14/2005
Smile
Here are a few things that give me a 'feel good' feeling, sure to get my undivided attention, and bring a smile to my face and a happy, peaceful feeling:
Here are a few things that give me a 'feel good' feeling, sure to get my undivided attention, and bring a smile to my face and a happy, peaceful feeling:
- The sight of a big jet plane taking off from a runway in the distance. I've been fascinated with planes since I was a toddler. "Mama, Daddy, AIPANE! AIPANE!!!" was commonly heard from me even if I only heard one overhead.
- A BIG flag - any flag basically- rippling and undulating in the wind.
- Windows down in the car, my face leaning into the wind-preferably with me in the passenger seat so I can close my eyes and enjoy it. I'm such a dog, huh?
- A sunset
- A soft breeze caressing my face and blowing through my hair
- Wiggling my bare toes in springy grass
- The laughter of a small child; the giggle of an infant
- A hug from my daughter
- The feel of a baby in cuddled close in my arms
- Remembrance of a kiss full of passion
- The sound of bagpipes
- Dolphins
- Waves lapping or crashing on the shore
- The beauty of a waterfall
- An email from a friend I haven't heard from in a while
- A new commenter on my blog
- A song on the radio that reminds me of someone special in my heart
- Being in a church - an instantaneous feeling of peace, calm, and warmth seeping through me from head to foot, like warm honey.
- The purring of a cat (surprise, surprise!)
- Floppy doggy and bunny ears- I've just GOT to touch and play with them, too!
What are some of yours?
A One Way Ticket
Welcome to another look into a day in the life of Scarlett Cyn. I hope you're prepared and don't have a weak stomach. It started off normal, whatever THAT is.
Interesting things get said at my dinner table. Like yesterday for instance.
Sitting with my husband and daughter having a sit down meal, the conversation turned weird. Weird because Arianna was playing 200 questions. Then she told her Dad "Enough with grandma. She is really psycho and needs to GO. Why don't you DO anything about her?" Oh yeah, now I remember what brought that comment on; he was talking about getting Ari a grown-up bedset and said he would give her wrought iron daybed (that I bought, HELLO!!!!???) to his mother. and I said "Cause she is obviously staying HERE forever...." That's what brought Ari's comment on.
Anyhooo, I stayed quiet, for now, and let Ari do all the talking. And BOY did she. She told her Dad that g-ma is really mean and horrible, espcically to Mom and how bad she is. He told her to be nice. Ari came back with "Why should I? I keep trying, but she is mean to everyone but you. Look at all the stuff she does and says to Mom!" and he just looks at me with this complacent look. I told him, "She is really bad, Z. You don't see things, because she controls herself when you are around, so DON"T play the age card on me anymore." He said "Well, I never see that side, so that makes it really hard to believe. And if it's that bad, you should defend your mother." Ari said "I do! But how much can I do? What about you? You should defend her too!" (That was priceless)I said, with Ari echoing me "When you aren't around, even in the TOILET/SHOWER, taking a walk, asleep, the stuff she does, the things she says, the behaviour is absolutely horrible. Ari: "She cusses and curses all the time at mom AND me too sometimes aaaaand Shony." then Ari went on to repeat what the usual/favorite things are that get said.
Now, apparently, the scary episode at 2am where MIL was cussing at me and placing curses (literally) on my head that had me frazzled all day at work last Sunday also woke Ari up. The witch was ooooozing evil- it was an actual presence, like how a high level of humidity feels- and it really, REALLY shook me up, even though I didn't let it show. I was also contemplating telling her off in return, but (!) It was some seriously skeery sh*t people! (Every time she does it this particular way, at this time of night, bad, really bad stuff happens to me. Every. Time. Sh*t like a miscarriage when I didn't know I was even pregnant (a miracle in itself), deathly ill-literally- I almost died a few times in a short span of months; I lost a job and financally was in very bad shape....for NINE MONTHS, serious car accidents where I was hospitalized for a week, shall I continue?) and she was behaving the way that used to give me night terrors about her stabbing me with a kitchen knife as I slept and scrawling my blood on the walls, so my tongue was kind of tied. I was also kind of afraid that if I lost my temper what I would do without anyone awake to interevene.
Anyway, did I forget to tell y'all about that episode the other night? Maybe because I was too freaked to re-live it so soon. Could be.
So. It seems that this woke Arianna up, and she proceeded to tell her dad this, that she was just sitting up in her bed in the dark, listening and repeated what she heard. He just shook his head and said "well... I don't see that side.." and Ari and I both looked at each other in exasperation and I said "wake UP." He said "Well, give me proof. Buy one of those little recorder things and tape her. Wait, you already have one." I said "She stole it ages ago. Remember? I bought it when Ari was little to record her babblings and giggles and whatnot to have forever. Remember? She took it AND the tapes, and then taped over them ALL, putting them in her answering machine that she DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO USE." to which Ari said "Yeah, I've seen it, the little black Sony one." Z: ----blank stare. Then I reminded him of the VIDEO I shot one morning. Nothin.
Then he said "Well, no one lives forever..." and I said "She will. She's doing a damn good job of it so far." to which Ari said something in such a blase, resigned, world weary tone, that the way,combined with the comment itself, made me choke on the bite of food I just put in my mouth.
Ready for the genuis that is my 10 1/2 year-old-going-on-40 daughter?
"Oh well, she's going STRAIGHT TO HELL ANYWAY. A One way ticket somewhere-finally."
No kidding! Amen.
*(A disclaimer: all conversations in this post were in normal speaking volume-excecpt for MIL's part. A discussion. It was NOT an argument. I don't allow that at my table!)
Welcome to another look into a day in the life of Scarlett Cyn. I hope you're prepared and don't have a weak stomach. It started off normal, whatever THAT is.
Interesting things get said at my dinner table. Like yesterday for instance.
Sitting with my husband and daughter having a sit down meal, the conversation turned weird. Weird because Arianna was playing 200 questions. Then she told her Dad "Enough with grandma. She is really psycho and needs to GO. Why don't you DO anything about her?" Oh yeah, now I remember what brought that comment on; he was talking about getting Ari a grown-up bedset and said he would give her wrought iron daybed (that I bought, HELLO!!!!???) to his mother. and I said "Cause she is obviously staying HERE forever...." That's what brought Ari's comment on.
Anyhooo, I stayed quiet, for now, and let Ari do all the talking. And BOY did she. She told her Dad that g-ma is really mean and horrible, espcically to Mom and how bad she is. He told her to be nice. Ari came back with "Why should I? I keep trying, but she is mean to everyone but you. Look at all the stuff she does and says to Mom!" and he just looks at me with this complacent look. I told him, "She is really bad, Z. You don't see things, because she controls herself when you are around, so DON"T play the age card on me anymore." He said "Well, I never see that side, so that makes it really hard to believe. And if it's that bad, you should defend your mother." Ari said "I do! But how much can I do? What about you? You should defend her too!" (That was priceless)I said, with Ari echoing me "When you aren't around, even in the TOILET/SHOWER, taking a walk, asleep, the stuff she does, the things she says, the behaviour is absolutely horrible. Ari: "She cusses and curses all the time at mom AND me too sometimes aaaaand Shony." then Ari went on to repeat what the usual/favorite things are that get said.
Now, apparently, the scary episode at 2am where MIL was cussing at me and placing curses (literally) on my head that had me frazzled all day at work last Sunday also woke Ari up. The witch was ooooozing evil- it was an actual presence, like how a high level of humidity feels- and it really, REALLY shook me up, even though I didn't let it show. I was also contemplating telling her off in return, but (!) It was some seriously skeery sh*t people! (Every time she does it this particular way, at this time of night, bad, really bad stuff happens to me. Every. Time. Sh*t like a miscarriage when I didn't know I was even pregnant (a miracle in itself), deathly ill-literally- I almost died a few times in a short span of months; I lost a job and financally was in very bad shape....for NINE MONTHS, serious car accidents where I was hospitalized for a week, shall I continue?) and she was behaving the way that used to give me night terrors about her stabbing me with a kitchen knife as I slept and scrawling my blood on the walls, so my tongue was kind of tied. I was also kind of afraid that if I lost my temper what I would do without anyone awake to interevene.
Anyway, did I forget to tell y'all about that episode the other night? Maybe because I was too freaked to re-live it so soon. Could be.
So. It seems that this woke Arianna up, and she proceeded to tell her dad this, that she was just sitting up in her bed in the dark, listening and repeated what she heard. He just shook his head and said "well... I don't see that side.." and Ari and I both looked at each other in exasperation and I said "wake UP." He said "Well, give me proof. Buy one of those little recorder things and tape her. Wait, you already have one." I said "She stole it ages ago. Remember? I bought it when Ari was little to record her babblings and giggles and whatnot to have forever. Remember? She took it AND the tapes, and then taped over them ALL, putting them in her answering machine that she DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO USE." to which Ari said "Yeah, I've seen it, the little black Sony one." Z: ----blank stare. Then I reminded him of the VIDEO I shot one morning. Nothin.
Then he said "Well, no one lives forever..." and I said "She will. She's doing a damn good job of it so far." to which Ari said something in such a blase, resigned, world weary tone, that the way,combined with the comment itself, made me choke on the bite of food I just put in my mouth.
Ready for the genuis that is my 10 1/2 year-old-going-on-40 daughter?
"Oh well, she's going STRAIGHT TO HELL ANYWAY. A One way ticket somewhere-finally."
No kidding! Amen.
*(A disclaimer: all conversations in this post were in normal speaking volume-excecpt for MIL's part. A discussion. It was NOT an argument. I don't allow that at my table!)
5/13/2005
Sleep Tight
A few observations as I ready myself (and the house) for bed.
My husband once upon a time used to tell me "good night" at the very least while stumbling off to bed. Now, I think he is going to the bathroom and then I realize he is sound asleep in bed. So much for manners!
My daughter is at that 'quirky' (how I hate that term, but hell! It applies.) age where sometimes she wants lovin from Mama before bed and a story (Harry Potter usually!) or a song. Those nights are becoming few and far between. Usually when I insist on (duh!) installing some manners in her, ie: saying good night to your mom and dad, she balks. Oh. Joy.
In my mind, the score is 0 - 2 in the opposing team's favor.
I kind of sadly realized that Garfield, (remember him? He is getting freaking HEWGE, Y'all. So grown into the name. 100% Even the WALK.) and Bandit, my two little furball boys have set a bedtime routine. If I'm up too late, one of them comes, walks onto my shoulder down to my breasts and flops down for a snooze, after looking me in the eyes and meowing at me like "Yo! MOM! Get your butt in bed NOW! I wanna snuggle. SEE?" after which heproceeds to have a nice nap on. my. tits. people! This is cute now, but what about when he is full grown? I mean, yeah, there is plenty of room, but jeez! Not that much!
Anyhow, Garfee and Bandit escort me to the bedroom, follow me around like the secret service -one on each side-or something, until finally escorting me between the sheets. Then? Lots of purring and.. Bandit between the pillows with his chin on my shoulder. Garfield stretched out above my head playing with my hair until one of us passes out.
Fine. Excecpt, I just discovered one of the other girls snores like a freightratin. OH. My Heavens.
Meow! I'm off to bed now. Good Night darlings!
A few observations as I ready myself (and the house) for bed.
My husband once upon a time used to tell me "good night" at the very least while stumbling off to bed. Now, I think he is going to the bathroom and then I realize he is sound asleep in bed. So much for manners!
My daughter is at that 'quirky' (how I hate that term, but hell! It applies.) age where sometimes she wants lovin from Mama before bed and a story (Harry Potter usually!) or a song. Those nights are becoming few and far between. Usually when I insist on (duh!) installing some manners in her, ie: saying good night to your mom and dad, she balks. Oh. Joy.
In my mind, the score is 0 - 2 in the opposing team's favor.
I kind of sadly realized that Garfield, (remember him? He is getting freaking HEWGE, Y'all. So grown into the name. 100% Even the WALK.) and Bandit, my two little furball boys have set a bedtime routine. If I'm up too late, one of them comes, walks onto my shoulder down to my breasts and flops down for a snooze, after looking me in the eyes and meowing at me like "Yo! MOM! Get your butt in bed NOW! I wanna snuggle. SEE?" after which heproceeds to have a nice nap on. my. tits. people! This is cute now, but what about when he is full grown? I mean, yeah, there is plenty of room, but jeez! Not that much!
Anyhow, Garfee and Bandit escort me to the bedroom, follow me around like the secret service -one on each side-or something, until finally escorting me between the sheets. Then? Lots of purring and.. Bandit between the pillows with his chin on my shoulder. Garfield stretched out above my head playing with my hair until one of us passes out.
Fine. Excecpt, I just discovered one of the other girls snores like a freightratin. OH. My Heavens.
Meow! I'm off to bed now. Good Night darlings!
5/12/2005
S.H.I.T. & Answers
Hi there everyone! All I can say is SHIT. So Happy It's Thursday! Yeeeeeee-haawwwww!! Here Thursday is like Friday everywhere else. WHOOOOT. A big shout out to one of my favoritest people in the whole world for helping me find an appropriate tagline for Thursdays on short notice. That's what a friend will do for you, yep! (By the way, SHUT UP about favoritest not being a real word. It is today.) heee. Thanks darlin, you're the BEST!
Sorry for the delay, but things have been crazily hectic at work the last couple of days and I’ve dragged myself home completely exhausted. Too exhausted, sadly, to even glance at my home PC to post my answers. I’m sure you all can say “Been there, done that!” and understand.
So, without further ado, lets cut to the chase, shall we?
Cheryl b asked:
If it was up to you what would Arianna be when she grows up? And none of this "she can be whatever she wants to be". I KNOW that you will let (and help) her to do what it is that SHE wants. What does she currently want to do with her life?
Of course you are right Cheryl b, I will let and help her do what SHE wants to do with her life (well, as long as it’s legal!). She is actually at that age, 10 ½ where she is back and forth about what she wants to do.
She already talks about going to college, which she wants to do back home in the US, but not necessarily what subject she wanted to persue. She even had planned to go to live in my Nana’s house-which belongs currently to my Aunt Arlene- in Long Island (Nana passed away almost 10 years ago) and maybe go to Stonybrook University which is 5 minutes from the house. Then one day last year she caught me kind of upset after I read an email from my aunt that she was considering selling the property. I’ve got a lot of nostalgia and memories in that house. My father helped build it with his own hands when he was 18-19 years old. His step-father’s (Aunt’s dad) thumb is in the foundation even! Arianna looked at me all sad and said “That SUCKS mom! I hope not. Cause then where are we gonna stay when I’m in college?” This is when I heard her whole master plan. I must say I was quite impressed that she had things this deeply thought out. She has mentioned several times she’d like to be a scientist or perhaps something in the medical field. I mentioned that maybe if she decided to go into medicine that she might like to consider something in the reproductive field, seeing as how I fight with infertility and she herself is a result of it, and if there wasn’t these medicines and doctors, I wouldn’t even have her. She thought it a valid point to consider and she got it right off. “That way Mom, I can help people have kids that have problems like you and some of your friends.”
Precisely darling!
That being said, about six months or so ago, she told me in the car (for some reason, she loves having deep conversations when it is just me and her in the car) “Mom, if I tell you what I want to be when I get older, you promise you won’t get mad?” I told her no. She hmmmmd and haawwwwed for a bit, throwing hints. But she said she was toying with the whole acting thing. She completely idolizes Hillary Duff, by the way, and the fact that she makes “decent” movies. I said to her “I’m not mad, I actually think you would probably be a good actress (she has some scary-serious natural talent), and my only remark is this. If you decide to follow this, it’s probably a shame I moved you away from Los Angeles. She was pleasantly surprised.
Like I said, whatever she wants to do. I just prefer that she not struggle any more than necessary and have a good enough job so that she doesn’t have to depend on anyone else, but be able to take good care of herself as an adult. But I guess that’s what every parent wants for their child.
Anonymous asked me:
What is your opinion on Mt. St. Helens today?
Okaaaaaay Anon. I think that Mt. St. Helen’s is going to erupt in a big way and fairly soon. In fact, geologically speaking, how she has been behaving in the past 6 months or so, I’m frankly surprised it hasn’t blown it’s lid yet.
How’s that? And thanks for asking, whomever you may be!
Pirate Wench (Wenchie) asked me:
If you could relive your senior prom, without changes, would you? Why or why not?
Aw HELL NO, woman! I got stood up for prom.
My STUPID ASSHOLE date apparently was hanging out with his friends earlier that day, got stoned (I found out 2 years later) and forgot everything. I was really pissed. I kept calling his house when he was really late and no one would give me a straight answer. It would be a cold day in hell before I went stag, considering I had planned to go with a guy that was a year or two older. I finally gave up and changed from my clothes and went out to a horribly expensive dinner with my best friend instead.
The fillet mignon I had that night was particularly tasty, so no, I wouldn’t change that part of the evening one bit!!
Well, thanks for dropping by. See ya!
Hi there everyone! All I can say is SHIT. So Happy It's Thursday! Yeeeeeee-haawwwww!! Here Thursday is like Friday everywhere else. WHOOOOT. A big shout out to one of my favoritest people in the whole world for helping me find an appropriate tagline for Thursdays on short notice. That's what a friend will do for you, yep! (By the way, SHUT UP about favoritest not being a real word. It is today.) heee. Thanks darlin, you're the BEST!
Sorry for the delay, but things have been crazily hectic at work the last couple of days and I’ve dragged myself home completely exhausted. Too exhausted, sadly, to even glance at my home PC to post my answers. I’m sure you all can say “Been there, done that!” and understand.
So, without further ado, lets cut to the chase, shall we?
Cheryl b asked:
If it was up to you what would Arianna be when she grows up? And none of this "she can be whatever she wants to be". I KNOW that you will let (and help) her to do what it is that SHE wants. What does she currently want to do with her life?
Of course you are right Cheryl b, I will let and help her do what SHE wants to do with her life (well, as long as it’s legal!). She is actually at that age, 10 ½ where she is back and forth about what she wants to do.
She already talks about going to college, which she wants to do back home in the US, but not necessarily what subject she wanted to persue. She even had planned to go to live in my Nana’s house-which belongs currently to my Aunt Arlene- in Long Island (Nana passed away almost 10 years ago) and maybe go to Stonybrook University which is 5 minutes from the house. Then one day last year she caught me kind of upset after I read an email from my aunt that she was considering selling the property. I’ve got a lot of nostalgia and memories in that house. My father helped build it with his own hands when he was 18-19 years old. His step-father’s (Aunt’s dad) thumb is in the foundation even! Arianna looked at me all sad and said “That SUCKS mom! I hope not. Cause then where are we gonna stay when I’m in college?” This is when I heard her whole master plan. I must say I was quite impressed that she had things this deeply thought out. She has mentioned several times she’d like to be a scientist or perhaps something in the medical field. I mentioned that maybe if she decided to go into medicine that she might like to consider something in the reproductive field, seeing as how I fight with infertility and she herself is a result of it, and if there wasn’t these medicines and doctors, I wouldn’t even have her. She thought it a valid point to consider and she got it right off. “That way Mom, I can help people have kids that have problems like you and some of your friends.”
Precisely darling!
That being said, about six months or so ago, she told me in the car (for some reason, she loves having deep conversations when it is just me and her in the car) “Mom, if I tell you what I want to be when I get older, you promise you won’t get mad?” I told her no. She hmmmmd and haawwwwed for a bit, throwing hints. But she said she was toying with the whole acting thing. She completely idolizes Hillary Duff, by the way, and the fact that she makes “decent” movies. I said to her “I’m not mad, I actually think you would probably be a good actress (she has some scary-serious natural talent), and my only remark is this. If you decide to follow this, it’s probably a shame I moved you away from Los Angeles. She was pleasantly surprised.
Like I said, whatever she wants to do. I just prefer that she not struggle any more than necessary and have a good enough job so that she doesn’t have to depend on anyone else, but be able to take good care of herself as an adult. But I guess that’s what every parent wants for their child.
Anonymous asked me:
What is your opinion on Mt. St. Helens today?
Okaaaaaay Anon. I think that Mt. St. Helen’s is going to erupt in a big way and fairly soon. In fact, geologically speaking, how she has been behaving in the past 6 months or so, I’m frankly surprised it hasn’t blown it’s lid yet.
How’s that? And thanks for asking, whomever you may be!
Pirate Wench (Wenchie) asked me:
If you could relive your senior prom, without changes, would you? Why or why not?
Aw HELL NO, woman! I got stood up for prom.
My STUPID ASSHOLE date apparently was hanging out with his friends earlier that day, got stoned (I found out 2 years later) and forgot everything. I was really pissed. I kept calling his house when he was really late and no one would give me a straight answer. It would be a cold day in hell before I went stag, considering I had planned to go with a guy that was a year or two older. I finally gave up and changed from my clothes and went out to a horribly expensive dinner with my best friend instead.
The fillet mignon I had that night was particularly tasty, so no, I wouldn’t change that part of the evening one bit!!
Well, thanks for dropping by. See ya!
5/10/2005
Finally
Sombody kiss me. I'm officially permanent at my job as of 1 hour ago!
The other day my boss handed me a blank performance appraisal and told me "How do you think you've done?" me: *blank stare* then, the quick save "I"ve done quite well, I think!". Jeez y'all, what did he think I would say? I don't know why I'm still here? I mean REALLY NOW!
So I did what any intelligent person would do. I filled out the form myself and handed it in to him the next morning for discussion.
First, he laughed at my audacity, to which I pointed out one of my positive points "Is pro-active;takes initiative" Granted, I did fill out one or three little things in the "Areas of Improvement" section. I was frankly stumped on how to re-word "Get it through CEO's thick, habitually-late-couldn't-be-on-time-to-his-own-funeral skull that when I gently remind him 5 times that he really must leave for that appointment, like, 15 minutes ago because there is traffic- OHMYGOD LOOK DOWN AT THE TRAFFIC OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW FOR HEAVENS SAKE ITS LIKE A PARKING LOT-MOOOOVVVEEEEEE!", then he tells me later: "you have to manage me and make sure I leave!" and I somehow manage to keep myself from leaping for his throat with claws extended but not, I fear, stop myself from staring at him goggle-eyed in shock because I literally walk in, after about the 3rd or 4th reminder and, depending on who if anyone is inside with him, I take his blazer off the hanger on the back of the door, walk over to him and pick up his mobile phone and hold them both out to him, arms extended while backing towards the door.
So, I worded it to read like this: "Needs to managed CEO better with regard to scheduled meetings/appointments." Although, I honestly don't know what else I could do unless........
I think I just gave myself carte blanche to drag him out by his ears, didn't I? Woohooo! Love that!
Now then, ranking myself for the key points of the company philosophy: scale of 1-5 1 being unsatisfactory and 5 being excellent, 4 being very good, etc..) I rated myself all 4's and 5's. This illicited a grin from him when reading it. I could have put all 5's, but he is a tough cookie, so I took it easy on him. hee hee. Two things I didn't skimp on were a) Personal Characteristics and core Skills and b) Interpersonal Qualities/Communication and c) job knowledge. THOSE were all a 5.
The best thing of all? He didn't change ANY OF IT, but instead added positive and good comments to it in writing. Verbally he looked at me,grinned and said "Congratulations! You are officially permanent. That is saying a lot, because I do not make people permanant easily. You have met my admittedly high expectations and surpassed them." Lord knows he is right. He has let TWO members of senior management go before they could finish 5 weeks with the bank! I thanked him, shook his hand, took my review, and hightailed it out of the office!
Finally, thank GOD, some form of stability. Amen.
Sombody kiss me. I'm officially permanent at my job as of 1 hour ago!
The other day my boss handed me a blank performance appraisal and told me "How do you think you've done?" me: *blank stare* then, the quick save "I"ve done quite well, I think!". Jeez y'all, what did he think I would say? I don't know why I'm still here? I mean REALLY NOW!
So I did what any intelligent person would do. I filled out the form myself and handed it in to him the next morning for discussion.
First, he laughed at my audacity, to which I pointed out one of my positive points "Is pro-active;takes initiative" Granted, I did fill out one or three little things in the "Areas of Improvement" section. I was frankly stumped on how to re-word "Get it through CEO's thick, habitually-late-couldn't-be-on-time-to-his-own-funeral skull that when I gently remind him 5 times that he really must leave for that appointment, like, 15 minutes ago because there is traffic- OHMYGOD LOOK DOWN AT THE TRAFFIC OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW FOR HEAVENS SAKE ITS LIKE A PARKING LOT-MOOOOVVVEEEEEE!", then he tells me later: "you have to manage me and make sure I leave!" and I somehow manage to keep myself from leaping for his throat with claws extended but not, I fear, stop myself from staring at him goggle-eyed in shock because I literally walk in, after about the 3rd or 4th reminder and, depending on who if anyone is inside with him, I take his blazer off the hanger on the back of the door, walk over to him and pick up his mobile phone and hold them both out to him, arms extended while backing towards the door.
So, I worded it to read like this: "Needs to managed CEO better with regard to scheduled meetings/appointments." Although, I honestly don't know what else I could do unless........
I think I just gave myself carte blanche to drag him out by his ears, didn't I? Woohooo! Love that!
Now then, ranking myself for the key points of the company philosophy: scale of 1-5 1 being unsatisfactory and 5 being excellent, 4 being very good, etc..) I rated myself all 4's and 5's. This illicited a grin from him when reading it. I could have put all 5's, but he is a tough cookie, so I took it easy on him. hee hee. Two things I didn't skimp on were a) Personal Characteristics and core Skills and b) Interpersonal Qualities/Communication and c) job knowledge. THOSE were all a 5.
The best thing of all? He didn't change ANY OF IT, but instead added positive and good comments to it in writing. Verbally he looked at me,grinned and said "Congratulations! You are officially permanent. That is saying a lot, because I do not make people permanant easily. You have met my admittedly high expectations and surpassed them." Lord knows he is right. He has let TWO members of senior management go before they could finish 5 weeks with the bank! I thanked him, shook his hand, took my review, and hightailed it out of the office!
Finally, thank GOD, some form of stability. Amen.
Ewwwwwww!!!
I have been noticing a very strange occurance while driving lately. It seems that, I'd say, about 80% of the people I see in my rearview mirror are picking their noses.
And not just the unobtrusive style picking of the nose either. I mean, if they dig any deeper they might be mining diamonds, or drilling for oil. This morning I saw a guy behind me with half his index finger crammed, hook style up his nostrils, first one, then the other-over and over again. Apparently it was a particulary stubborn booger. 7am is WAAAY too early for me to see this. (traffic was like a parking lot, so not too much else to do particulary when I almost got rear-ended by the nose picker who was too busy drilling his schnozz to hit the brakes!)
Actually, any time of day is the wrong time for me to see this. Then imagine this dude goes to work and shakes hands with people? My boss is a compulsive hand shaker. I wonder if he also is a nose picker?
OMIGOD! Somebody pass me the Lysol Spray, QUICK! and while you're at it, post me some questions!
Meanwhile, I'll go wash my hands with scalding water.
I have been noticing a very strange occurance while driving lately. It seems that, I'd say, about 80% of the people I see in my rearview mirror are picking their noses.
And not just the unobtrusive style picking of the nose either. I mean, if they dig any deeper they might be mining diamonds, or drilling for oil. This morning I saw a guy behind me with half his index finger crammed, hook style up his nostrils, first one, then the other-over and over again. Apparently it was a particulary stubborn booger. 7am is WAAAY too early for me to see this. (traffic was like a parking lot, so not too much else to do particulary when I almost got rear-ended by the nose picker who was too busy drilling his schnozz to hit the brakes!)
Actually, any time of day is the wrong time for me to see this. Then imagine this dude goes to work and shakes hands with people? My boss is a compulsive hand shaker. I wonder if he also is a nose picker?
OMIGOD! Somebody pass me the Lysol Spray, QUICK! and while you're at it, post me some questions!
Meanwhile, I'll go wash my hands with scalding water.
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