Someday soon and sooner than I want, my son will be grown up and going away to college or the military or will be a bum. Even though at 33 I am not old, my good child-bearing years are slipping away and the older Nate gets, the less likely I am to start all over again. I also have no viable prospects for a spouse and I don’t really feel like wasting away waiting on grandchildren I hope are slow in coming.
So, what will I do when Nate leaves the nest? Well, here’s a few things I had in mind:
1. I could become a TEFL teacher, that is Teaching English as a Foreign Language. I always wanted to be a teacher and this would just encompass my love of travel and teaching all in one.
>
2. I could finally sit down and finish those novels and screenplays I’ve been writing for the past year. Maybe I’ll finish one before then but it would be nice to be able to sit in the evenings and write… all night if I want.
>
3. I could become a forensic anthropologist or a medical examiner. Although forensics is a hobby of mine, I wouldn’t mind at least taking some courses to see if its something I’d like to do as a second career.
>
4. I could become a photo-journalist. As a child, I always wanted to work for Life magazine. The college I graduated from offers journalism classes and I thought of taking some night courses to get another degree.
>
5. I could become a mountaineer, as in, giving guided tours in the Cascades and on Denali. I’m not much interested in risking my life on K2 or Everest but a life on the mountain wouldn’t be a bad thing.
>
Hey, maybe I can incorporate all of those things into one. I’ll move to Russia, right across the Bering Strait where I’ll teach English during the day, work in forensics during the summer, take a boat to Alaska every weekend and do tours and naturally, write, write, write and take photographs. LOL!!! …. damn, that doesn’t sound too bad.
I wrote this last night and put in my other post instead but did spend time looking up my alma mater’s class listings and realized by the classes and course descriptions that I could get away with a degree in Communications emphasis on photography and journalism in 58 hours, if they accept all my previous courses. Which they should, after all, I got them there!
Some of the classes looked downright interesting like: Photography I and II, Advanced Photography, Animation Production, Broadcast Announcing, Scriptwriting for Film, Theatre Studies, Journalism and Copy Editing/Makeup. Some of the classes look to be a downright snoozefest, like: Regulations of American Broadcasting (more legalese shite), Introduction to Mass Communications (anything intro in college normally bores the hair off my arms) and I’m not too crazy about Television Production and Direction.
I can do this with only 56 hours but I would only need Radio and Television Broadcasting to get the emphasis in Journalism to go along with the Photography. Why not? Only one small, itsy, bitsy problem… less than half of the classes I need are offered in the evening. None of the photography classes are offered. How horrible could that be???? My boss loves me, but I’m not sure he loves me that much. They also only offer 2 hour 45 minute classes, twice a week. Maybe he could handle an hour class three times a week but that’s a lot of time to spend away from my desk and still expect to have a job.
This all of course hinges on whether or not I get a big fat bonus in November or December. College courses are not in the budget. Its a little over $700 for 6 hours plus the ID card, parking and then books and of course, a camera and film etc., time off work, and a babysitter for Nate.
Its simple. I get a big fat bonus to pay for my first three semesters. I ask for a camera of my choice for Christmas plus film etc. and nothing else. Nate’s dad is underworked so he can take the child and as for the time off work, I’ll work it out. In five years, I’ll have another degree and Nate will be 13 years old. That is of course assuming I don’t marry a much better off dude who will let me attend college full-time whilst spitting out another child or two. Yeah, fat chance.
The best news is, with my already hefty college classes, I may qualify as a junior and get the better pickings of classes and times. Ahhh.. tis sweet to be older at times. Class of 2010, here I come!!
Permalink
7 Comments
Someday soon and sooner than I want, my son will be grown up and going away to college or the military or will be a bum. Even though at 33 I am not old, my good child-bearing years are slipping away and the older Nate gets, the less likely I am to start all over again. I also have no viable prospects for a spouse and I don’t really feel like wasting away waiting on grandchildren I hope are slow in coming.
So, what will I do when Nate leaves the nest? Well, here’s a few things I had in mind:
1. I could become a TEFL teacher, that is Teaching English as a Foreign Language. I always wanted to be a teacher and this would just encompass my love of travel and teaching all in one.
>
2. I could finally sit down and finish those novels and screenplays I’ve been writing for the past year. Maybe I’ll finish one before then but it would be nice to be able to sit in the evenings and write… all night if I want.
>
3. I could become a forensic anthropologist or a medical examiner. Although forensics is a hobby of mine, I wouldn’t mind at least taking some courses to see if its something I’d like to do as a second career.
>
4. I could become a photo-journalist. As a child, I always wanted to work for Life magazine. The college I graduated from offers journalism classes and I thought of taking some night courses to get another degree.
>
5. I could become a mountaineer, as in, giving guided tours in the Cascades and on Denali. I’m not much interested in risking my life on K2 or Everest but a life on the mountain wouldn’t be a bad thing.
>
Hey, maybe I can incorporate all of those things into one. I’ll move to Russia, right across the Bering Strait where I’ll teach English during the day, work in forensics during the summer, take a boat to Alaska every weekend and do tours and naturally, write, write, write and take photographs. LOL!!! …. damn, that doesn’t sound too bad.
I wrote this last night and put in my other post instead but did spend time looking up my alma mater’s class listings and realized by the classes and course descriptions that I could get away with a degree in Communications emphasis on photography and journalism in 58 hours, if they accept all my previous courses. Which they should, after all, I got them there!
Some of the classes looked downright interesting like: Photography I and II, Advanced Photography, Animation Production, Broadcast Announcing, Scriptwriting for Film, Theatre Studies, Journalism and Copy Editing/Makeup. Some of the classes look to be a downright snoozefest, like: Regulations of American Broadcasting (more legalese shite), Introduction to Mass Communications (anything intro in college normally bores the hair off my arms) and I’m not too crazy about Television Production and Direction.
I can do this with only 56 hours but I would only need Radio and Television Broadcasting to get the emphasis in Journalism to go along with the Photography. Why not? Only one small, itsy, bitsy problem… less than half of the classes I need are offered in the evening. None of the photography classes are offered. How horrible could that be???? My boss loves me, but I’m not sure he loves me that much. They also only offer 2 hour 45 minute classes, twice a week. Maybe he could handle an hour class three times a week but that’s a lot of time to spend away from my desk and still expect to have a job.
This all of course hinges on whether or not I get a big fat bonus in November or December. College courses are not in the budget. Its a little over $700 for 6 hours plus the ID card, parking and then books and of course, a camera and film etc., time off work, and a babysitter for Nate.
Its simple. I get a big fat bonus to pay for my first three semesters. I ask for a camera of my choice for Christmas plus film etc. and nothing else. Nate’s dad is underworked so he can take the child and as for the time off work, I’ll work it out. In five years, I’ll have another degree and Nate will be 13 years old. That is of course assuming I don’t marry a much better off dude who will let me attend college full-time whilst spitting out another child or two. Yeah, fat chance.
The best news is, with my already hefty college classes, I may qualify as a junior and get the better pickings of classes and times. Ahhh.. tis sweet to be older at times. Class of 2010, here I come!!
Permalink
7 Comments
So, you guys know I’ve been sick. For a while, I had no idea what was wrong with me. I thought it was just a really bad cold. Naturally, I did not want to pass this ailment along to my nephews, their cousins, or my brand new niece so I diligently packaged up J2’s birthday gift and Annie’s birth gift (which included a swank pair of hand-knitted booties) and shipped them up to my brother and his bitch via my parents last weekend. For J2, I got him a card and got some cool Army stickers I’m sure he would love, as my brother is in the Army National Guard and slipped in ten bucks, which is about what I would have spent on a gift anyway.
So, my brother and his bitch have been married six years. SIX YEARS! When I get their sweet, loving thank-you card in the mail, my name, my real name, the name that my brother has known me by for 33 years is spelled WRONG!! Furthermore, my loving brother, didn’t even sign the fucking thank-you card. What’s worse is… she spelled my name wrong on it TWICE!!
Now, there are several variations of the spelling of my name. I assure you I have had the same spelling for 33 years, damn, almost 34!!! And definitely the entire time that my brother’s bitch has been in my family.
Now I, being a bitch, and not just a bitch, but THE BITCH, have contemplated how to right this error. Perhaps I could conveniently write her a letter letting her know that no thanks is necessary and then proceed to spell all of their names wrong as I inquire as to the state of their union as either they are dI-vorcing or she has finally sapped what little strength my brother had left in his balls since he was either not present nor had the strength to sign the damn card nor the balls or brains to correct her spelling.
Perhaps to some this is not such a big thing. To me, its just another pitiful show as to how meaningless I am to them. It might be “just a name” but by God and Goddess, its my name. If I can remember how to spell AZ’s long ass Polish name, surely she could remember something so simple as I-N-A-N-N-A. I’m surprised she got my last name right. Maybe I’ll address the letter to my brother instead… something along the lines of Big “Little Bitch” Brother… and put her maiden name on the end. Bad things are sure to follow… bwhahahahahahahahaha.
Permalink
11 Comments
So, you guys know I’ve been sick. For a while, I had no idea what was wrong with me. I thought it was just a really bad cold. Naturally, I did not want to pass this ailment along to my nephews, their cousins, or my brand new niece so I diligently packaged up J2’s birthday gift and Annie’s birth gift (which included a swank pair of hand-knitted booties) and shipped them up to my brother and his bitch via my parents last weekend. For J2, I got him a card and got some cool Army stickers I’m sure he would love, as my brother is in the Army National Guard and slipped in ten bucks, which is about what I would have spent on a gift anyway.
So, my brother and his bitch have been married six years. SIX YEARS! When I get their sweet, loving thank-you card in the mail, my name, my real name, the name that my brother has known me by for 33 years is spelled WRONG!! Furthermore, my loving brother, didn’t even sign the fucking thank-you card. What’s worse is… she spelled my name wrong on it TWICE!!
Now, there are several variations of the spelling of my name. I assure you I have had the same spelling for 33 years, damn, almost 34!!! And definitely the entire time that my brother’s bitch has been in my family.
Now I, being a bitch, and not just a bitch, but THE BITCH, have contemplated how to right this error. Perhaps I could conveniently write her a letter letting her know that no thanks is necessary and then proceed to spell all of their names wrong as I inquire as to the state of their union as either they are dI-vorcing or she has finally sapped what little strength my brother had left in his balls since he was either not present nor had the strength to sign the damn card nor the balls or brains to correct her spelling.
Perhaps to some this is not such a big thing. To me, its just another pitiful show as to how meaningless I am to them. It might be “just a name” but by God and Goddess, its my name. If I can remember how to spell AZ’s long ass Polish name, surely she could remember something so simple as I-N-A-N-N-A. I’m surprised she got my last name right. Maybe I’ll address the letter to my brother instead… something along the lines of Big “Little Bitch” Brother… and put her maiden name on the end. Bad things are sure to follow… bwhahahahahahahahaha.
Permalink
11 Comments
Marvin was a guy I went to school with. He and I met in 3rd grade after our schools were consolidated. Marvin was a short thin guy who would always remain short and thin. The last time I saw him he might have been 1/2 an inch taller than me and I’m 5′3″ 1/2.
From the moment we started school together we were always stuck in the same class. We were TAG kids. TAG being Talented and Gifted. Marvin was in regular TAG and I was in Science and Math TAG, having missed regular TAG by one point. It was a joke more than anything. Marvin always bitched that the TAG teacher should at least be as smart as the kids their trying to teach. He had little patience for idiocy.
Marvin and I competed in everything. Sometimes we competed against each other and sometimes we TAG kids would gang up against a teacher. Marvin and I both played trumpet in the band and naturally we had to share the solo since we competed so hard against each other, we were both worthy of the position. I’ll not forget the time during marching band that we continued to play and march even as the band director started yelling at us to stop. Marvin and I both turned with disgusted looks on our faces because we had both been playing and marching well. Turns out one of the majorettes had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Marvin looked at me and said, “why the hell did he stop us for? We don’t need her? She needs us!” That was just his attitude.
Marvin’s family was very poor. I can remember his jeans being three inches too short and patched. Unfortunately his brother, who was also in the band with us, was a lot bigger guy so I guess Marvin getting hand-me-downs was out of the question.
If I could pick one word to describe Marvin, I would say… ambitious. He always had ambition. He always wanted to be better. He never took his brains for granted, like I did. Whatever he wanted, he normally got because he was smart and he had drive to get it. A lot of times, he drug me right along with him. I can’t say that I ever felt that Marvin really liked me but when it came down to it, I was one of the more “normal” TAG kids and he knew when he got me going I was a worthy opponent. I can’t say that Marvin was smarter than I was, nor I smarter than him. We each had our strengths and our faults and they normally balanced out. He made me think a lot.
Marvin always knew, I think, in the back of his mind, that college or military was the only way out of the coalfields. I knew he wouldn’t join the military and I think he saw me as a barrier to scholarships and accolades that could propel him into college. I gave all that up when I went to Germany my senior year. I gave up Govenor’s Honor Academy and few other things and a lot of chances for scholarships. I really didn’t need them like he did. My family was prepared to send me to college and could afford it.
Marvin and I did go to the same local college. He majored in Chemical Technology. Although our college was small, the science program was supported by the local chemical factories and was one of the best in the state. He worked as a co-op student at what was then Rhone Poulenc. He carried a 3.9 grade point average. I can tell you right now, that 10th of a point probably irritated the shit out of him. That’s the way he was.
As you’ve probably guessed, this story doesn’t end so well. In April of 1993, a month before graduation, Marvin was coming home from work and, they believe, fell asleep at the wheel and hit a loaded coal truck head-on. Its one of those things that still makes me so angry I want to cry.
He’s one of five or six students from my class that have died since graduating from high school. His is the one that hurt me the worst. I’ve been to wakes and funerals for old people, babies, teenagers, young adults, and a murder victim. None of the people at those wakes and funerals had the impact on me that Marvin’s family did. I have never seen a family more devastated than his. His wife was so drugged, they practically had to carry her in the church. His brother practically ran down the aisle of the church into my arms, sobbing about “our over-achiever.” Marvin carried his family on his slim shoulders.
Marvin’s birthday is a week after mine. I think of him every year. I think about his son and wonder if he looks like Marvin. He did in his baby pictures but that was 11 years ago. I visit his grave when I go to the cemetary. My grandparents are buried the same place he is. Most of our classmates who have died, if not all, are also buried there. I’m not sure what brought Marvin to mind this morning. Sometimes he pops up in my mind and I relive some our funnier moments, when we could just be ourselves without trying to one up each other.
I always revisit his death though. My mind still shouts, “NO! NO! Not Marvin, not Marvin. Not our over-achiever.” Rhone Poulenc established a scholarship in his name. I’ll never think its enough.
Permalink
11 Comments
Marvin was a guy I went to school with. He and I met in 3rd grade after our schools were consolidated. Marvin was a short thin guy who would always remain short and thin. The last time I saw him he might have been 1/2 an inch taller than me and I’m 5′3″ 1/2.
From the moment we started school together we were always stuck in the same class. We were TAG kids. TAG being Talented and Gifted. Marvin was in regular TAG and I was in Science and Math TAG, having missed regular TAG by one point. It was a joke more than anything. Marvin always bitched that the TAG teacher should at least be as smart as the kids their trying to teach. He had little patience for idiocy.
Marvin and I competed in everything. Sometimes we competed against each other and sometimes we TAG kids would gang up against a teacher. Marvin and I both played trumpet in the band and naturally we had to share the solo since we competed so hard against each other, we were both worthy of the position. I’ll not forget the time during marching band that we continued to play and march even as the band director started yelling at us to stop. Marvin and I both turned with disgusted looks on our faces because we had both been playing and marching well. Turns out one of the majorettes had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Marvin looked at me and said, “why the hell did he stop us for? We don’t need her? She needs us!” That was just his attitude.
Marvin’s family was very poor. I can remember his jeans being three inches too short and patched. Unfortunately his brother, who was also in the band with us, was a lot bigger guy so I guess Marvin getting hand-me-downs was out of the question.
If I could pick one word to describe Marvin, I would say… ambitious. He always had ambition. He always wanted to be better. He never took his brains for granted, like I did. Whatever he wanted, he normally got because he was smart and he had drive to get it. A lot of times, he drug me right along with him. I can’t say that I ever felt that Marvin really liked me but when it came down to it, I was one of the more “normal” TAG kids and he knew when he got me going I was a worthy opponent. I can’t say that Marvin was smarter than I was, nor I smarter than him. We each had our strengths and our faults and they normally balanced out. He made me think a lot.
Marvin always knew, I think, in the back of his mind, that college or military was the only way out of the coalfields. I knew he wouldn’t join the military and I think he saw me as a barrier to scholarships and accolades that could propel him into college. I gave all that up when I went to Germany my senior year. I gave up Govenor’s Honor Academy and few other things and a lot of chances for scholarships. I really didn’t need them like he did. My family was prepared to send me to college and could afford it.
Marvin and I did go to the same local college. He majored in Chemical Technology. Although our college was small, the science program was supported by the local chemical factories and was one of the best in the state. He worked as a co-op student at what was then Rhone Poulenc. He carried a 3.9 grade point average. I can tell you right now, that 10th of a point probably irritated the shit out of him. That’s the way he was.
As you’ve probably guessed, this story doesn’t end so well. In April of 1993, a month before graduation, Marvin was coming home from work and, they believe, fell asleep at the wheel and hit a loaded coal truck head-on. Its one of those things that still makes me so angry I want to cry.
He’s one of five or six students from my class that have died since graduating from high school. His is the one that hurt me the worst. I’ve been to wakes and funerals for old people, babies, teenagers, young adults, and a murder victim. None of the people at those wakes and funerals had the impact on me that Marvin’s family did. I have never seen a family more devastated than his. His wife was so drugged, they practically had to carry her in the church. His brother practically ran down the aisle of the church into my arms, sobbing about “our over-achiever.” Marvin carried his family on his slim shoulders.
Marvin’s birthday is a week after mine. I think of him every year. I think about his son and wonder if he looks like Marvin. He did in his baby pictures but that was 11 years ago. I visit his grave when I go to the cemetary. My grandparents are buried the same place he is. Most of our classmates who have died, if not all, are also buried there. I’m not sure what brought Marvin to mind this morning. Sometimes he pops up in my mind and I relive some our funnier moments, when we could just be ourselves without trying to one up each other.
I always revisit his death though. My mind still shouts, “NO! NO! Not Marvin, not Marvin. Not our over-achiever.” Rhone Poulenc established a scholarship in his name. I’ll never think its enough.
Permalink
11 Comments
1. I only learned my German family’s phone number in German. If I have to recite it in English it takes forever. It is 14 numbers long.
>
2. I was in labor for 20 hours and pushed for an hour and a half when I had Nate. He weighed 8 lbs. 14 oz. I weighed 4 lbs. 15 oz.
>
3. As a child, they discovered I did not have a permanent tooth under one of my baby teeth. My brother didn’t either. We inherited this trait from my mother.
>
4. I was born on the cusp of Scorpio and Sagittarius on 11/21. I have mostly Scorpio traits though.
>
5. I was a month premature. My due date was Christmas.
>
6. My birthday will never be on Thanksgiving. The closest it gets is the 22nd.
>
7. There are four people in my office born in November. I am the only Scorpio.
>
8. My German father, my German sister Claudia’s second son, Justin, and Nate’s dad are also Scorpios.
>
9. Nate, Claudia and my other German sister, Marion, and Claudia’s first son, Andrew, are Cancers. Nate and Andrew were born one year and one day apart.
>
10. Both my real mom and my German mom are Libras.
>
11. I was on the phone with my sister Claudia when I went into labor with Nate.
>
12. My first real pet was a rabbit. Her name was Sheena. I got her when I was eight and she died when I was sixteen. She was a cross between a Rhode Island Red and a Logan Giant. She weighed 15 lbs. at her heaviest.
>
13. I used to squirt my neighbor’s white, cross-eyed cat with a waterhose when he tried to sneak over the fence to eat Sheena.
>
14. I stepped on a black snake in our garden when I was five.
>
15. I mowed grass for money as a kid. One time I hit a yellow jacket nest. My dad and I went up to my neighbor’s property at sunset, poured gasoline in the hole and lit it on fire.
>
16. One of my bedroom windows opened onto the roof and I used to climb out there in the winter and watch the stars even though I’m afraid of heights.
>
17. I once climbed into a 30 foot tree stand with my ex-boyfriend. Once I got up there, I was frozen by fear and it took him climbing down behind me, or rather, over top of me for me to get out of it. The other hunters we talked to that evening all shook their heads and told me how much they hated that tree stand themselves.
>
18. I have shot two deer, a buck and a doe. I have shot two squirrels. I have never shot at an animal and missed. I have never had to shoot an animal twice because I screwed up the first shot. I shot the buck through the spine and into his skull under the left ear as he turned to look at me and bunched up his hindquarters to jump at 75 yards in deep woods. I shot the doe through the heart at 15 yards.
>
19. I shot the buck after jumping off the back of a four-wheeler.
>
20. I shot the doe after hunting all day in windy, single digit temperatures.
>
21. I technically missed the first shot with the doe because I hadn’t reloaded the gun after coming back into the woods. The clip had not engaged and therefore I had no bullet in the chamber. The other deer ran and she was stupid enough to stand there while I loaded it properly, so she died and I ate her.
>
22. I like hunting in the snow because it is beautiful.
>
23. I don’t kill a lot of deer because I can’t sit still in the woods. I have to walk around a lot. And I like to track and take pictures.
>
24. I only kill as much as I and my friends can eat. I give the squirrels to my parents because I can’t stand the smell of squirrel cooking.
>
25. I can cook deer meat so good, you would never know it was deer meat.
>
26. Nate loves deer meat.
>
27. I like to go on the river and fish at night for catfish.
>
28. One night as we were fishing, they let the dam out and I broke three lines just getting away from the river.
>
29. The most difficult trail I’ve ever hiked was Potato Knob Trail in Webster County, West Virginia. It is a 15 mile ball-breaker that my friend Joe and I did in 100 degree temperatures and 90% humidity over rocks, deadfall, brambles and along sheer cliffs. We rested at a natural waterfall and on the hike back, we had sex on the trail. Had we not, I never would have made it.
>
30. Joe is a former Marine and said I did much better than all of the guys he trained with. Right up to the point where I developed heat exhaustion. I made it though. He said its the only time I’ve ever asked him to turn the radio down. I miss Joe.
>
31. Sex with Joe on the trail was the hottest, stickiest, sweatiest sex I’ve ever had. Did I mention how much I miss him?
>
32. I was the first person Joe ever rode a roller-coaster with.
>
33. I’m going to Cedar Point, September 18th. I hope I run into Joe there. Damn those blackout dates.
>
34. I speak sign language fluently. One of my best friends is deaf. Her brother-in-law is also deaf and legally blind. We speak to him using the Helen Keller method.
>
35. She has been deaf since she was three so she speaks pretty good. She reads lips exceptionally well. She knows all the gossip because people tell her things and think she doesn’t understand.
>
36. She had a Cochlear implant but she only wears the hearing aid for special occasions. Most of the time she turns it off because the noise gives her a headache.
>
37. I am hypoglycemic. If I don’t eat, I get 10 feet tall, bullet-proof and bitchy.
>
38. T-Bird brought me a chicken sandwhich, fries and a Diet Coke from Wendy’s after I had Nate. I told her if she didn’t I was going to kill someone.
>
39. My favorite food while pregnant was crunchy peanut butter on whole wheat toast with strawberry jam and plain strawberries. I would sit at my desk at work and eat two quarts of strawberries.
>
40. When I got pregnant with Nate, my waist was 29 inches. Two days before I had him, it was 56, now, its 32. I am the same weight now as I was when I got pregnant, 125. I don’t think this is fair.
Permalink
10 Comments
1. I only learned my German family’s phone number in German. If I have to recite it in English it takes forever. It is 14 numbers long.
>
2. I was in labor for 20 hours and pushed for an hour and a half when I had Nate. He weighed 8 lbs. 14 oz. I weighed 4 lbs. 15 oz.
>
3. As a child, they discovered I did not have a permanent tooth under one of my baby teeth. My brother didn’t either. We inherited this trait from my mother.
>
4. I was born on the cusp of Scorpio and Sagittarius on 11/21. I have mostly Scorpio traits though.
>
5. I was a month premature. My due date was Christmas.
>
6. My birthday will never be on Thanksgiving. The closest it gets is the 22nd.
>
7. There are four people in my office born in November. I am the only Scorpio.
>
8. My German father, my German sister Claudia’s second son, Justin, and Nate’s dad are also Scorpios.
>
9. Nate, Claudia and my other German sister, Marion, and Claudia’s first son, Andrew, are Cancers. Nate and Andrew were born one year and one day apart.
>
10. Both my real mom and my German mom are Libras.
>
11. I was on the phone with my sister Claudia when I went into labor with Nate.
>
12. My first real pet was a rabbit. Her name was Sheena. I got her when I was eight and she died when I was sixteen. She was a cross between a Rhode Island Red and a Logan Giant. She weighed 15 lbs. at her heaviest.
>
13. I used to squirt my neighbor’s white, cross-eyed cat with a waterhose when he tried to sneak over the fence to eat Sheena.
>
14. I stepped on a black snake in our garden when I was five.
>
15. I mowed grass for money as a kid. One time I hit a yellow jacket nest. My dad and I went up to my neighbor’s property at sunset, poured gasoline in the hole and lit it on fire.
>
16. One of my bedroom windows opened onto the roof and I used to climb out there in the winter and watch the stars even though I’m afraid of heights.
>
17. I once climbed into a 30 foot tree stand with my ex-boyfriend. Once I got up there, I was frozen by fear and it took him climbing down behind me, or rather, over top of me for me to get out of it. The other hunters we talked to that evening all shook their heads and told me how much they hated that tree stand themselves.
>
18. I have shot two deer, a buck and a doe. I have shot two squirrels. I have never shot at an animal and missed. I have never had to shoot an animal twice because I screwed up the first shot. I shot the buck through the spine and into his skull under the left ear as he turned to look at me and bunched up his hindquarters to jump at 75 yards in deep woods. I shot the doe through the heart at 15 yards.
>
19. I shot the buck after jumping off the back of a four-wheeler.
>
20. I shot the doe after hunting all day in windy, single digit temperatures.
>
21. I technically missed the first shot with the doe because I hadn’t reloaded the gun after coming back into the woods. The clip had not engaged and therefore I had no bullet in the chamber. The other deer ran and she was stupid enough to stand there while I loaded it properly, so she died and I ate her.
>
22. I like hunting in the snow because it is beautiful.
>
23. I don’t kill a lot of deer because I can’t sit still in the woods. I have to walk around a lot. And I like to track and take pictures.
>
24. I only kill as much as I and my friends can eat. I give the squirrels to my parents because I can’t stand the smell of squirrel cooking.
>
25. I can cook deer meat so good, you would never know it was deer meat.
>
26. Nate loves deer meat.
>
27. I like to go on the river and fish at night for catfish.
>
28. One night as we were fishing, they let the dam out and I broke three lines just getting away from the river.
>
29. The most difficult trail I’ve ever hiked was Potato Knob Trail in Webster County, West Virginia. It is a 15 mile ball-breaker that my friend Joe and I did in 100 degree temperatures and 90% humidity over rocks, deadfall, brambles and along sheer cliffs. We rested at a natural waterfall and on the hike back, we had sex on the trail. Had we not, I never would have made it.
>
30. Joe is a former Marine and said I did much better than all of the guys he trained with. Right up to the point where I developed heat exhaustion. I made it though. He said its the only time I’ve ever asked him to turn the radio down. I miss Joe.
>
31. Sex with Joe on the trail was the hottest, stickiest, sweatiest sex I’ve ever had. Did I mention how much I miss him?
>
32. I was the first person Joe ever rode a roller-coaster with.
>
33. I’m going to Cedar Point, September 18th. I hope I run into Joe there. Damn those blackout dates.
>
34. I speak sign language fluently. One of my best friends is deaf. Her brother-in-law is also deaf and legally blind. We speak to him using the Helen Keller method.
>
35. She has been deaf since she was three so she speaks pretty good. She reads lips exceptionally well. She knows all the gossip because people tell her things and think she doesn’t understand.
>
36. She had a Cochlear implant but she only wears the hearing aid for special occasions. Most of the time she turns it off because the noise gives her a headache.
>
37. I am hypoglycemic. If I don’t eat, I get 10 feet tall, bullet-proof and bitchy.
>
38. T-Bird brought me a chicken sandwhich, fries and a Diet Coke from Wendy’s after I had Nate. I told her if she didn’t I was going to kill someone.
>
39. My favorite food while pregnant was crunchy peanut butter on whole wheat toast with strawberry jam and plain strawberries. I would sit at my desk at work and eat two quarts of strawberries.
>
40. When I got pregnant with Nate, my waist was 29 inches. Two days before I had him, it was 56, now, its 32. I am the same weight now as I was when I got pregnant, 125. I don’t think this is fair.
Permalink
10 Comments
I’m not sure what I mean by that. I use that phrase when I want to talk about my life. Otherwise, I don’t belong to a union of any sort. Unless we bloggers would like to start one, like the Bloggers Union 69 or something. We could ask for better benefits or a raise, although it wouldn’t do us much good. I don’t have a significant other, so that sort of union is out of it too. Anyway, here’s the state of my union.
1. I had a post ready earlier until Nate bumped the computer and erased it. Instead of attempting to recreate it, I took a four hour nap. Maybe it was five. I’ve been feeling rather shitty.
>
2. When I take my antibiotics I get light-headed and woozy. I can’t believe I’m catching a buzz from antibiotics.
>
3. The side effects have kicked in full force. I am now scarfing yogurt. Luckily, I can fund breast cancer research while doing so.
>
4. I don’t understand why birth control pills do not work while on antibiotics. Oh, they still do, it just “decreases the effectiveness.” Kinda like playing Russian Roulette. The only Russian Roulette I’d like to play is nude with Mikhail Baryishnikov. I know I didn’t spell that right, but you get the picture.
>
5. Since I started taking Lexapro, I have had the sugar munchies. Sugar and starch, starch and sugar. Normally, I gain a lot of weight when I eat too much of those things. Surprisingly, I haven’t. I looked in the buggy at the store and realized I had bought nothing but pasta and sugar. I don’t care.
>
6. Between the antibiotics and all the sugar, I’m setting myself up for a raging yeast infection. (Sorry guys, know you all hate to hear about that stuff.) This is why I’m scarfing yogurt among other reasons.
>
7. I think it a conspiracy among pharmaceutical and yogurt companies and washcloth manufacturers. After all, the best part of a yeast infection is having sex with a washcloth.
>
8. I know, TMI.
>
9. Probably the above companies are owned by a super-conglomerate. If you ask the Republicans… its owned by the Heinz Corporation. If you ask the Democrats… its owned by the Carlyle Group. Ask the average American and its owned by Martha Stewart. She probably received a call in the middle of the afternoon from her broker informing her I had a sinus infection and would be on antibiotics so she bought more stock. Damn insider trading.
>
10. My box of Puffs has Sponge-Bob, Patrick and Squigward on it. This makes me happy.
>
11. I think Puffs is in on the conspiracy too.
>
12. While at the store I bought an emery board and new nail polish. I gave myself a manicure and painted my nails. They are now a very nice shade of Revlon Blackberry.
>
13. They don’t look good enough to eat nor do they resemble blackberries, more like blackberry juice, which isn’t black at all.
>
14. People tend to hate the fact that I have naturally straight, hard nails, with pink bases and white nails. People really hate me when I paint them and they ask where I got them done. I give them my home address and said it cost about $.10 considering how long the polish and emery board will last.
>
15. Yes, I am shamelessly bragging. Just to make you feel better, my toenails don’t look nearly as good.
>
16. There are nine full-time employees at my law firm and one part-time. Six of those employees are female, on Monday, we lose a man and pick up another woman. She is the daughter of another employee. This will mean only the lawyers are male and all the support staff are female. (Diabolical laugh)
>
17. I don’t know why I told you that. It just seemed like the thing to say.
>
18. I am eating Kraft Pasta Pronto Shells with Creamy Herb Sauce. I’m not going to eat it all. I’m saving some for you guys.
>
19. Along with Snick and Michael, I believe peanut butter should be a food group. I think they’re part of the conspiracy too. The peanut butter people, not Snick and Michael.
>
20. I have very tough skin. Not the kind where ineffective put-downs bounce off me like rubber balls. The kind where I have to warn people who take my blood before the needle bounces off. When my cats try to jump on me they sometimes end up hanging from my skin. My skin on my legs is not nearly as tough.
>
21. I do not swell up and itch from mosquito bites. Nate does.
>
22. I swell up and itch from poison ivy. Nate does not.
>
23. I thought of actually getting married the other night and got sick to my stomach. I’m assuming if I find the right guy, that feeling will go away.
>
24. Maybe I just thought of the wrong guy to marry.
>
25. I’m afraid my strong independent streak will keep me from being a good spouse.
>
26. The next time some chica in the toilet at the club asks if I’m 5-0, I’m going to tell her yes, and if they don’t stop doing drugs in the bathroom I’m going to bust them all. I will be standing very close to the door when I say that.
>
27. Everytime I see sleazy guys hanging out in a drug zone I wonder if they are narcs.
>
28. Nate was looking for my pink emery board in the drawer and found my vibrator. Very fuzzy dust bunnies hopped away when he pulled it out and I convinced him he didn’t want to know what was inside the package that looked like a giant Lifesaver.
>
29. I have never used a vibrator during sex but I would like to. 99.9% of the guys I’ve dated weren’t kinky enough to try it.
>
30. My ideal man would have to be adventurous in the bedroom. At least adventurous enough to not always do it in the bedroom.
>
That’s the state of my union. There’s more but my buzz is kicking in. Good night bloggers.
Permalink
9 Comments
I’m not sure what I mean by that. I use that phrase when I want to talk about my life. Otherwise, I don’t belong to a union of any sort. Unless we bloggers would like to start one, like the Bloggers Union 69 or something. We could ask for better benefits or a raise, although it wouldn’t do us much good. I don’t have a significant other, so that sort of union is out of it too. Anyway, here’s the state of my union.
1. I had a post ready earlier until Nate bumped the computer and erased it. Instead of attempting to recreate it, I took a four hour nap. Maybe it was five. I’ve been feeling rather shitty.
>
2. When I take my antibiotics I get light-headed and woozy. I can’t believe I’m catching a buzz from antibiotics.
>
3. The side effects have kicked in full force. I am now scarfing yogurt. Luckily, I can fund breast cancer research while doing so.
>
4. I don’t understand why birth control pills do not work while on antibiotics. Oh, they still do, it just “decreases the effectiveness.” Kinda like playing Russian Roulette. The only Russian Roulette I’d like to play is nude with Mikhail Baryishnikov. I know I didn’t spell that right, but you get the picture.
>
5. Since I started taking Lexapro, I have had the sugar munchies. Sugar and starch, starch and sugar. Normally, I gain a lot of weight when I eat too much of those things. Surprisingly, I haven’t. I looked in the buggy at the store and realized I had bought nothing but pasta and sugar. I don’t care.
>
6. Between the antibiotics and all the sugar, I’m setting myself up for a raging yeast infection. (Sorry guys, know you all hate to hear about that stuff.) This is why I’m scarfing yogurt among other reasons.
>
7. I think it a conspiracy among pharmaceutical and yogurt companies and washcloth manufacturers. After all, the best part of a yeast infection is having sex with a washcloth.
>
8. I know, TMI.
>
9. Probably the above companies are owned by a super-conglomerate. If you ask the Republicans… its owned by the Heinz Corporation. If you ask the Democrats… its owned by the Carlyle Group. Ask the average American and its owned by Martha Stewart. She probably received a call in the middle of the afternoon from her broker informing her I had a sinus infection and would be on antibiotics so she bought more stock. Damn insider trading.
>
10. My box of Puffs has Sponge-Bob, Patrick and Squigward on it. This makes me happy.
>
11. I think Puffs is in on the conspiracy too.
>
12. While at the store I bought an emery board and new nail polish. I gave myself a manicure and painted my nails. They are now a very nice shade of Revlon Blackberry.
>
13. They don’t look good enough to eat nor do they resemble blackberries, more like blackberry juice, which isn’t black at all.
>
14. People tend to hate the fact that I have naturally straight, hard nails, with pink bases and white nails. People really hate me when I paint them and they ask where I got them done. I give them my home address and said it cost about $.10 considering how long the polish and emery board will last.
>
15. Yes, I am shamelessly bragging. Just to make you feel better, my toenails don’t look nearly as good.
>
16. There are nine full-time employees at my law firm and one part-time. Six of those employees are female, on Monday, we lose a man and pick up another woman. She is the daughter of another employee. This will mean only the lawyers are male and all the support staff are female. (Diabolical laugh)
>
17. I don’t know why I told you that. It just seemed like the thing to say.
>
18. I am eating Kraft Pasta Pronto Shells with Creamy Herb Sauce. I’m not going to eat it all. I’m saving some for you guys.
>
19. Along with Snick and Michael, I believe peanut butter should be a food group. I think they’re part of the conspiracy too. The peanut butter people, not Snick and Michael.
>
20. I have very tough skin. Not the kind where ineffective put-downs bounce off me like rubber balls. The kind where I have to warn people who take my blood before the needle bounces off. When my cats try to jump on me they sometimes end up hanging from my skin. My skin on my legs is not nearly as tough.
>
21. I do not swell up and itch from mosquito bites. Nate does.
>
22. I swell up and itch from poison ivy. Nate does not.
>
23. I thought of actually getting married the other night and got sick to my stomach. I’m assuming if I find the right guy, that feeling will go away.
>
24. Maybe I just thought of the wrong guy to marry.
>
25. I’m afraid my strong independent streak will keep me from being a good spouse.
>
26. The next time some chica in the toilet at the club asks if I’m 5-0, I’m going to tell her yes, and if they don’t stop doing drugs in the bathroom I’m going to bust them all. I will be standing very close to the door when I say that.
>
27. Everytime I see sleazy guys hanging out in a drug zone I wonder if they are narcs.
>
28. Nate was looking for my pink emery board in the drawer and found my vibrator. Very fuzzy dust bunnies hopped away when he pulled it out and I convinced him he didn’t want to know what was inside the package that looked like a giant Lifesaver.
>
29. I have never used a vibrator during sex but I would like to. 99.9% of the guys I’ve dated weren’t kinky enough to try it.
>
30. My ideal man would have to be adventurous in the bedroom. At least adventurous enough to not always do it in the bedroom.
>
That’s the state of my union. There’s more but my buzz is kicking in. Good night bloggers.
Permalink
9 Comments
