Do You Have a Goal?

March 16, 2009 at 8:28 pm (Fitness)

Ugh. It was such a whiney post yesterday. Gawd.

Anywho, a few weeks ago I purchased Billy Blanks Tae Bo Boot Camp Workout. I was a big fan of the original Tae Bo and thought since I was getting all fitnessy that I would give it a spin. Eh. I made it through, I sweated, I didn’t do all reps of all of the exercises.

First, I couldn’t quite get some of the moves down. Second, they were too fast. Third, I have to work tomorrow and I have to be able to move. The first time I worked out to Tae Bo I couldn’t move for a week. My body said, “YOU FUCKING BITCH! DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!”

Having said that, I like the original Tae Bo better. I’ve learned some things today. First, my arms are as strong as I thought they were… until I had to do push-ups. They said, “Are you kidding me? I don’t think so.” I could only do five or six and then had to do girly push-ups. Ugh.

Second, my ass is not as strong as I thought, nor are my thighs. Squats, I do them everyday, but… ugh, not 400 at a time! I do have a fairly good right hook, though.

So, then I came in and smoked a cigarette because fitnessy does not equal healthy. I decided to give my Dance it Off Ballroom a run. Because I’m a glutton that way and I’m always looking for some new dance moves. I danced to the “step moves” section that teaches you how to do certain moves. Some I remember from ballet, jazz, and tap.

I think I should have danced through it more than once because although I worked up quite a sweat doing the cha-cha, I could have done better if I would have run through the breakdown of the steps a few more times. I paused it at the samba. I’m not ready for that.

Oh, and I have sweat trickling down my neck and back. I lost my sweatshirt somewhere within the first 5 minutes of Tae Bo, so I’m running around my house in sneakers, a bra, and my dance pants.

Nate is at my parents’ place for part of Spring Break. Working out is going to be a bitch when he comes home. I don’t want to ruin him for life so I’ll have to find a sports bra in my size or just wear my dance shirt. I don’t get the difference between a regular ole bra and a sports bra. THEY’RE BOTH BRAS and note, I do not wear a bra unless it has underwire.

My first goal is to strengthen my body. Billy has shown me that I’m not as strong as I could be.

My second goal is to have a waistline that doesn’t wrinkle when I put clothes on.

My third goal is to tighten up my saggy skin. Yes, it can be done. When I worked out with Tae Bo (before my unfortunate fall down the steps at my old job, hyperextending my ankle, lest you think I’m some kind of slacker), it really helped in firming up my skin as well as my abs.

My fourth goal is to have some kind of ass. I may have been blessed upstairs but they totally passed over my backstairs. The only time I’ve had an ass is when I was pregnant. It went when Nate came out. So, I have to build up my gluteus maximus to keep my jeans on.

Here’s my problem, if I buy jeans to fit my ass and stay there, then I have a serious case of muffin top. YECH!  So, those are my goals.

Do you have a goal, ya gotta have a goal!

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Happy Belated Thanksgiving

November 29, 2008 at 10:16 am (Family, Memories) ()

I’ve been a little busy but wanted to thank all of you that sent Thanksgiving wishes and text messages.

I was chasing deer and shooting a deer and so forth. She’s about 85 lbs. field dressed. She and I tangoed for a bit, ending with her tangled in some deadfall where they’ve been logging on my parents’ farm. It started with my dad telling me that my gun was shooting about four inches high. The second thing was I took a downhill shot, which is never prime. So, I ended up shooting her in the spine, which I hate. It ruins the best part of the meat and its not within my “one shot, one kill” policy.

She took off on her two good legs and disappeared over the flat. I bolted in another one and attempted the still the tremors, or “buck achers,” even though she wasn’t a buck. I slid down the hill, onto the road, and then over onto the next flat. All I can say is that I shot at her again, then again, then again, and I’m not sure with the sight off whether any of those hit her, or whether it was the last shot, because ole girl was still moving on.  She made another flat and flailed down that embankment, over the logging road to the deadfall.

I knew on the other side of that deadfall was a steep 40 yard drop to the next gas road. By this time, the tremors had well subsided and I was just getting pissed, not to mention, just aggravated that she wasn’t dead. Not to brag, but the last two deer died instantly because I shot them in the heart. Beaders make good shots, I suppose, because we have such steady hands and good eyes.

I lined up the last shot, with adjustments, and she looked like she had succumbed, made one last effort, then died. FINALLY! At some point I had landed the kill shot, not a heart shot, but a lung shot plus the bleeding out from the spinal wound. My magazine was empty, so I loaded my extra shells, just in case she really wasn’t dead and tried to get a hold of my dad on the walkie-talkie. After being reasonably certain she wasn’t going to gore me to death with her razor sharp hooves, I began trying to untangle her. While doing so, I saw someone walking in the holler below me. Damn trespassers.

After three or four attempts to raise someone at the farm, my dad, brother, and nephews showed up. Ah, the calvary. The boys and I got her untangled, then with me shoving from underneath and them pulling, and more untangling, in which I finally broke off part of the offending hoof, Ms. Doe was pulled free, appropriately gutted, appropriately admired, then my dad went out looking for the trespasser, I took my niece for a walk up the holler, we ate turkey, I went out looking for Mr. Buck and didn’t find him. I’ll take another shot at it today, and hopefully its only one shot.

I could have shot a doe as I walked up the first hill, but I didn’t think that was very fair nor much of a hunt. I could have shot another one as I made the treeline on the point, she was about 10 yards from me, and looked at my so quizzically, I laughed instead, before she snorted and took off. As I walked out to look for Mr. Buck, while still in the “compound” area, a group of does stood staring at me, perhaps knowing they were safe for another year. It was a beautiful day.

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Choice of Words

October 30, 2008 at 7:50 am (Family, Friends, General, Memories, Relationships) (, )

Within the past few days I’ve had a lot on my mind. During the solitary drives to work and home again, I’ve wondered about the evolution of my family, especially on my dad’s side of the family.

My Grandpa Joe was a good man. He was jovial, kind, and loved irritating my mother. However, he wasn’t politically correct in the least. I never heard him call a black man, or African-American, by either of those names. He called them niggers. While the term “nigger” is seen as demeaning and derisive, my grandfather didn’t use it derisively and by that I mean he didn’t use it with malice. There was nothing, in his mind, wrong with saying, “Me ‘n’ Dave and that nigger Jim, we went…” and he would tell his story.

I figured out this wasn’t something nice to say by the way my mother’s back would straighten and her lips would purse and the porch swing would move a little faster. My father, more often than not, would continue to rock in the frayed lawn chair and stare out over the river.

I can only assume that at some point I heard my mother’s opinion of her father-in-law’s choice of words, probably as I lay prostrate outside the bathroom, eavesdropping through the crack at the bottom of the door. (This was one of my favorite eavesdropping spots as all important parental meetings took place in the bathroom, supposedly away from “little people with big ears.”)

Because our parents are our first and most important role models, I began wondering why my father did not adopt his father’s “choice of words.” Was it because his family was one of the few in his tiny community that had a television? Was it because during his high school years of 1956-1960 that the Civil Rights Movement had to have been on that television very prominently?

Was it because there were black families in our community who had children who attended high school with him without all of the racial tensions of the deep South? (His high school had two black school bus drivers and a black teacher.)

Was it because he served in the military with them? Was it because he went to college with them? Was it because he worked with them? Or was there some other incident or even person in his life that made him eschew his father’s “choice of words?”

I most certainly plan on asking him the next time I see him.

One of my other favorite eavesdropping spots was my bedroom window, which overlooked the neighbor’s driveway. If that wasn’t good enough, I could always drop down to my parents’ bedroom window, which was directly under mine, not only to get a better view, but a better earshot of what was going on. At some point my neighbors took in either his niece or her niece. Her name was Brandy and I’ll never forget her.

There were only two black families in our community at the time and everyone knew them. The boys of the “S” family were the sons of the same black teacher that had taught my father and mother at the high school and grandsons of one of the aforementioned bus drivers. I recognized one of them next door at my neighbors’ house. At that time, their back door opened into the driveway, right in eyeview and earshot. I heard my neighbor yelling at Brandy and the “S” man and telling them to get out. And, I heard the word, “nigger.”

I believe that was the first time I had ever heard the word used that way – with anger, disgust, and hate.

I went to the paragon of all things in my life at the time, which would mean my mother. It seems as though by standing in the kitchen washing dishes she was able to absorb via osmosis the fracas next door and was somewhat prepared to answer my questions. I knew the “S” men. One of the them, the younger, was a student teacher at my grade school. Why was my neighbor being so hateful? My mother tried to explain that our neighbor didn’t think that black and whites should date each other.

“But why?”

I would have felt sorry for my mother at this point. There isn’t an answer she could have given me that would have satisfied me. Perhaps it called into sharp focus her own prejudices, that while she may not have agreed with my neighbor’s methods, she did agree with her ideology. I found that out when Troy and I started seeing one another, probably about 20 years later. Now, 30 years later, my mother at least, is more open to inter-racial relationships and figures, hell, anything goes. My father, not so much so, or, do I even really know?

And what the hell did any of us know of “race relations” anyway? The “S” family had been in our community for two or three generations. The “F” family moved away and the “D” family, the father was a teacher at our high school, his wife and their seven children, moved there in the early 80’s. We found their seven children more intriquing than their color. The only other minorities in our community were the “B” family . Their mother was Vietnamese. Yet again, we found it more intriquing that they had five boys in the family and that they were Jehovah’s Witnesses than the fact their mother was from Vietnam.

Other families that had been in the community for a long time had Lebanese and Greek roots, but no one thought much about it other than it made a good story at the Lion’s Club meeting.

Not to say there weren’t racial remarks made in passing, but they were met with stony silence, disapproving looks, and most often a, “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

Our tiny rural community was hardly a microcosm of America. Still today it isn’t a bustling hub of immigrants and minorities. But, in the turbulent late 50’s and early 60’s, it was progressive for its time and place in America. The principal did not stand on the steps of the high school and block the black children from attending. There were no riots or police dogs or firehoses. The Klan did not ride through the night and burn crosses.

While there are many things I could say about the rural town of my upbringing, the best I can say is that they taught their children to be racially tolerant. Whether it was because we had such a small number of minorities and they were well respected or just because we know what it felt like to be judged harshly and unfairly, not for the color of our skin, but for the location of our birth.

My neighbor was the exception rather than the rule and her son, who was the same age as myself, didn’t share her viewpoint of the world, just as my father did not share his father’s choice of words.

To be continued…

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I Don’t Like Her Hair…

September 12, 2008 at 7:57 am (Crazy Shit, Family, Friends, Politics)

This is what my mother said in relation to Sarah Palin yesterday evening while we had a conversation about the upcoming Presidential race. My mother is a Republican and she’s not exactly happy with John McCain’s VP choice, although I’m not exactly sure why. I wasn’t able to drag much out of her other than she doesn’t like her hair.

She doesn’t like Obama because she’s afraid he’ll put Jesse Jackson in a cabinet position.

My response on both the Sarah Palin hair statement and the Jesse Jackson cabinet position were, “OHMAHGODMOTHER!”

I asked her to remove gender, race, and hair styles from her criteria for choosing the next President, and subsequently Vice President, of the United States and to focus on the issues.

I watched Governor Palin try and talk her way out of her speech in which she said, paraphrased: Our government is sending our troops to Iraq on a task from God.   Charlie Gibson asked if we were in a Holy War. She said it was in reference to Abraham Lincoln saying, paraphrased: That we should not ask God to be on our side during war, but instead hope that we’re on His side.  Those are two different things and in the context of her speech, where she went on to speak of God’s plan, no, good try, Sarah, but I’m not buying it. 

She did not reference Abraham Lincoln in her speech and she did not state that the actions of our government should be based on the hope that we’re on God’s side in the tasks that we undertake.  She didn’t reference it and didn’t infer it either. It was painful and disturbing to watch.


I talked to my sister yesterday while they were on their way to Dallas. She lives in Alvin, TX, which is a suburb of Houston in Brazoria County. They decided to haul ass because they live in a modular home and the area they live in is prone to flooding on a good day. Her in-laws who live close to the Brazoria/Harris County line in the city of Manvel, decided to “hunker down” in their solidly built home. My BIL’s mom probably couldn’t handle the sitting involved with a long trek anyway.

Brighton has also hauled ass and I’m not sure about tinyhands. My cousins that did live in Victoria, TX moved recently to Tennessee, and my other cousin lives closer to Trashman, so, tinyhands, check in, will ya?

And, again, we wait with bated breath.

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Strange Days

June 16, 2008 at 7:02 pm (Crazy Shit, Family, Memories, Nate, Relationships, Work)

I’m sure I’ve posted a blog with a title like this before…

First, I still have the remnants of this effin’ cold. Any given moment I may spasm with breath-stealing, choking, wheezing, gagging, gurgling sounds. Really, I haven’t passed out yet. It may happen when I’m serving your food, it may happen when I’m sleeping soundly at 3 or 4 or 5 a.m.  I may not have any symptoms for a day or so, then suddenly I sound like an asthmatic in a goldenrod field.

Jeff was civil today.  Wonders never cease. This is the first conversation we’ve had since I hung up on him last week. I didn’t even speak to him yesterday when I picked Nate up. I really don’t have much to say.

When I cleaned my house, I found something Nate had stashed away with some of his toys – Jeanette’s Christmas CD. Can you say “Christmas in June?”  THANK YOU, JEANETTE!!! 6 months late…

Its almost the full moon. So soon????

We had a crazy lady at the restaurant the last time I evening bartended. I recognized her but couldn’t put my finger on her name or where I knew her from. Come to find out, she’s the owner of another restaurant in town, one which I’ve eaten at and always enjoyed. As it were, after I almost tossed her out on her drunk, belligerent ass, I saw her sous chef at a local bar that night. Her sous chef is the son of one of our former hostesses and used to work at our restaurant. I informed him of what a joy it was to serve her. 

Our capitol city is so small that my GM knew within 48 hours that her date had severely under-tipped the server at another restaurant because that server had worked with one of our servers and severs talk. Our server tipped off our GM who then rectified the situation by sending the other server a check with her thanks and apologies. Moral:  DON’T FUCK WITH SERVERS!

I was sitting at work the other night (rare, because I never sit at work, but had to because my feet were hurting so bad from the high heels I was wearing because I was hostessing) when I suddenly thought of Lex, my ex, the one who introduced me to blogs? Yeah, him. It was like a rift in time. I missed him a great deal, which sucks.

I forgot my blogiversary… it was at the end of May. Four long years.

Our family reunion was yesterday. I saw a couple of cousins I haven’t seen in four years, one who now has a baby. And she is the sweetest baby ever!  Which is good, considering they never intended on having children. She said she had a hard time coming to terms with being pregnant and becoming a parent, which I fully understand. However, Kiera is much loved and adored by her parents and the rest of us think she’s pretty swell too.  They’ve been married for 12 years and I know this because I was full-on preggo with Nate when they got married.

My niece and nephews were also there… for as long as it took them to eat, change clothes, and spend 10 minutes there until their mother took them to the pool. I didn’t see them again. My aunt remarked later that my brother was still waiting on my SIL as we were all leaving. I said, “That’s his fault. He married her.” IMHO, he should have brought the kids and left her at home.

When I get a chance I’ll tell you about my crazy Hungarian hotel neighbor from Milwaukee.

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Happy Turkey Birthday To Me

November 22, 2007 at 10:48 pm (Family, Friends, Memories, Work)

My birthday will never be on Thankgiving, however, this does not mean I don’t think the turkey and trimmings are all for me.

What I did on my birthday:


No, there aren’t any antlers on that deer, but still a worthy kill.  She weighed about 84 lbs. field dressed and we’ll get about 50 lbs. of meat from her. 

I spent time with my family… all of them. Then I went to work and they all spoiled me with food and drinks. And more drinks… and some more.

Then I went back to my parents’ place today and hunted (after temps dropped 30*-40*) but didn’t see much. Ate turkey. Spent time with family. Came home and soaked in a hot bath. Now, I’m ready for bed.

I’m working tomorrow and we’re anticipating a big crowd. I hope so. I could use it.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Now, on with the leftovers.

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It’s Picture Wednesday

October 24, 2007 at 7:43 pm (Alice in Chains, Beading, Cats, Family, General, Memories, Nate, Shop)

As I said, I’m trying to blog more! I’m also beading more. I made a mistake in the ornament I was working on and I had to pull it all out, which sucks.

Did you notice the latest in my beading ventures from the NOLA pics?


Yes, well, I had to have something to represent! I tried making an Alice in Chains necklace but I just didn’t have the time nor the beads that I needed to do it right. I thought the camo “Boggy Depot” worked just fine, especially considering it was the CD cover I had. That’s hornpipe soaked in coffee for the antique look. Yes, I rock.

The ornament I’m making is the same color scheme, only with white beads instead of cream. Not that you can tell in that photo. It is exactly like this


except the gold is white and the brown is green and the cream is the same brown that’s in this picture, and the black is the same. Okay, I didn’t realize that until just now. Oh, well.

Work was slow today. I started my period. Its still raining. Its Hump Day. I need to shave under my arms. Ummmm… oh, I have a new picture of Jack. As a matter of fact, I have a lot of pictures that I haven’t shown you. So, let’s have a pictorial.

Here’s my friend Mr. Cicada. He thought it would be cool to hang out on the railing of my porch.


Nate likes to holler for me when he’s in the shower and then pokes his head out. One day, I caught him with the camera.


Classic Nate!

Even though Troy and I have known each other for quite a while, we had not one picture of us together. So, the first picture…


Here’s the place I should have gone to work…


I wanted to do a pictorial of the shop but it seemed kinda boring. So, be bored.

The thermometer at 9 a.m.


Why I wear my hair up…




And while I’m at the end of the 300* dryer, and Rich and Nick (whose photo won’t load) are at the front, Bob is busy getting his tan on…


Okay, wasn’t that fascinating???  I knew you’d think so, that’s why I posted it so many months ago when I worked at the shop. Next.

Here’s a pic I took from my living room at the apartment on Easter Sunday…


I went to visit Mom and Dad this summer and took some pics…

Its a flower…


And woods…


and a field…


and a rock…


and a big tree…


and another field. You can see the top of the farmhouse’s red roof.


And because my Momma loves me, my new quilt…


And a close up…


Yes, she did all of of that by hand. We’re from the country people! 

Oh yeah, and here’s Jack. I call this his “Dirty Ole Man” picture.


And Jack and Nate…


And here I am on my porch. Notice the red dot in the center of my chin and some on my cheek. Yeah, I burned myself when I was cooking. Hurt like a bitch. The sun was bright that day.


Okay, okay, Cybele wants the chicken pic…

This is Herman, the rooster who owns my parents, and a couple of their moo cows…


And another…


Well, guess that was worth waiting a few months for. Happy Hump Day.

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NOLA – Volume I

October 5, 2007 at 6:32 pm (AZ, Family, Music, My Travels)

I started writing my trip report and determined it will have to be broken up into pieces.

The weekend started with Steve’s (AZ) wedding. I spent so much time researching cool haunted places to visit in Nawlins, I was late getting ready. By the way, everywhere in Nawlins is haunted, save yourself the trouble of looking it up. As I parked in the lot at the church I said to myself, “I really don’t want to be here.” I went anyway.

I saw a lot of people I haven’t seen in a long time, including my ex – Lex. I also saw Ray, a total hottie from Steve’s days at his first radio station. Yeah, and he’s single. He has my MySpace page and he hasn’t contacted me since I got home, so I guess he read whatever I’ve written and decided against it, which, hey, whatever. I’m nothing if not honest, perhaps even more so than I should be.


He was a very handsome groom and she was a very beautiful bride.  Again, I don’t get their whole relationship and really, I’m not the one who has to, that’s between them. She looks happy here but a lot of the time she didn’t look happy at all. She looked miserable, but maybe that’s just her way. By the way, her gown was the shizznet.


About six drinks into the reception, that morose feeling started and I really had to shake myself out of it. I couldn’t quite pinpoint whether I thought it should be me with him, or whether I wondered if it would ever be me with anyone. Eh.  

All good intentions aside, I didn’t quite make the 7 p.m. curfew I set for myself and didn’t end up back here until 10, then, despite the number of drinks I had, I still couldn’t wind down and go to sleep. Despite my best intentions, and the number of drinks I had, I also didn’t catch any kind of buzz. I should have sucked down that half bottle of Reisling in the fridge. 2 a.m., it came early, but I bolted up, finished packing, fed and watered the cats, and took off.

I arrived at Pittsburgh Intl. 2 minutes late to check my baggage so I had to toss my shaving cream, contact lens solution, and my toothpaste or I would have had to wait on the 11:50 flight. My ass folks! Not after rising at 2 a.m. and driving 4 hours. Bite ME!

I sat beside a very engaging man on the flight to Philly who was also widely traveled and we shared stories. I was so tired that I can’t even remember who I sat beside of on the way to Nawlins because I was asleep before the flight took off, woke briefly when we took off, and slept about 3/4ths of the way to Nawlins. My right hip and sciatic nerve have been giving me trouble and it woke me up.

It was pouring the rain when I arrived and rained all the way to the hotel. However, by the time I got checked in and dumped my stuff, it had stopped. I made my way to Jackson Square and waited on my cousin.



We ate beignets and drank coffee at the Cafe Du Monde. Still as awesome as evah!

My cousin and I then walked down to St. Louis Cemetery #1, stopping at Marie Laveau’s Voodoo Shop along the way. I did not purchase a chicken foot, although it was tempting. Come to find out, the cemetery was closed, so we walked back to Decatur Street. I pointed out all of the supposed haunted spots along the way, which meant I pointed at every building.

We stopped at Crescent City Brewhouse and had a sampling of their beers –



watched some football, and then decided we should try and find a different cemetery. We didn’t find much because we went the wrong way and it ended up being forever away on foot so we scrapped that, ended up meeting Seven, went back to the room for a pee break, and then wandered down to the Clover Grill for a late lunch. Huge ass burgers under a hubcap and hashbrowns. It kicked ass.


Seven took off after we made plans for lunch the following day and my cousin and I went to Pat O’Briens. A guy named Daniel came in after we were there a while and he had a bad habit of kissing our hands, which after a while became extremely irritating and strange.  Booze helped, but not a whole lot.


We escaped by telling him that I needed a nap and my cousin had to get home; this following a meeting with another gentleman who had recently been mugged and shot on N. Rampart, which runs parallel to Basin where the #1 St. Louis Cemetery is.

So, at 9 p.m. I took a nap.


And as you all know, the freaks come out at night…

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September 23, 2007 at 9:53 pm (Alice in Chains, Attitude in Overdrive, AZ, Family, Friends, Music, My Travels)

I just booked my flight and hotel in New Orleans. Normally I stay with my cousin but this time we decided it would be best if I got a room downtown as this is not a typical trip. Although my cousin and I get along fabulously, we appreciate each other’s differences as much as we celebrate our similarities, I tend to be a bit more on the wild side. I’m a night owl and a prowler. She has to rise at the ass crack of dawn for her job. I’m into the rock ‘n’ roll scene and she’s not so much into that. However, I bet we’ll have a few beers and watch some football while I’m there because in that way, we’re definitely alike.

In other words, she’s as laid back as I am hyper, and believe it or not, she may even be more mysterious than I am. We do share blood, my people.

I’m actually departing on Sunday from Pittsburgh. Much cheaper than flying from my home city, even with hotel, ground transport, parking, and gas, it is cheaper than just driving 15 miles to my nearest airport. Sad, oh so sad.

I could have flown out Saturday, but that would mean I would miss AZ (Steve’s) wedding. Can’t have that peeps. I’ve talked to him a few times in the past week. He’s reminded me several times that I can bring a date if I desire. I was really hell bent on having a date for this affair, but really, I don’t give a shit anymore. I wasn’t even sure I could stay for the reception, given that I was flying out to New Orleans the same weekend.

He said they cut the guest list to 200. If an invitation was returned because of a bad address, then they were just stricken. Trying to pay for a wedding on unemployment must be pretty tough. He’s already had his bachelor party. He got bombed on Jagermeister and spewed Chinese food all over his friend’s lawn. Lovely.

I’m looking forward to the wedding, almost as much as I’m looking forward to going shopping since I don’t have a thing to wear, literally. I’m looking forward to having that finality that it’s over – really, really over and I’m free. I’ll be closing a chapter of my life, perhaps without answers, but also without regret or remorse. I think I’ll call this chapter, “Preparation for the Real “One”.” My only irritation, I’m starting my period this week! GAH! Bloat city! Why must I always buy clothes when I’m BLOATED?!? Then they only fit when I’M ON MY PERIOD!!!!

I may wait until Saturday morning even to buy something. Gah! A trip to the mall on Saturday morning???? Gag me with a ten-foot toenail. Pbooey!

The upside? I’M GOING TO NEW ORLEANS TO SEE ALICE IN CHAINS! Totally worth a trip to the mall, even on Saturday morning.

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September 12, 2007 at 12:54 am (Attitude in Overdrive, Black Stone Cherry, Crazy Shit, Family, Friends, Nate, T-Bird, Work)

September 11th is winding down to a close.

I couldn’t really decide what I wanted to post about. Nate, Jeff, me, work, the #4, I mean, so much fodder for blogging.

We’ll start with the #4. On Friday, I waited on 34 people and I made $104 in tips. The time on the bank when Nate and I stopped at the stoplight was 4:44 and it was 94* outside. The trip odometer at the stop sign down the road was 444.4 and we were on our way to my 14th Black Stone Cherry show. On the way home, I got pulled over the 4th time this year, four blocks from my house.

Speaking of getting pulled over, it appears as though Officer D. and I will be having another meeting. Seems as though he forgot to tell me that I needed to return to The Point in order for him to see my new registration, now, the State wants to suspend my license. I’m not happy about that. Also not happy about the fact that Officer D. only works Fri – Mon, 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. Oh, joy! And to think, I’ve been back to The Point TWICE since he first pulled me over. Now, if I can just find my new registration card…

Nate has been moved to a new class at school which is for boys with ADHD. He was very unhappy about this… at first. His father, even more unhappy. Me, trying to get both of them to give it a chance and find out more about this program. Jeff just kept yelling about coddling him and how kids will make fun of him. Nate finally came around and said he would give it one week to see how things went. Jeff totally showed his ass this evening, bellowing, screeching, screaming into the phone about everything from Nate’s hair and clothes to the size of his book bag and how since he took care of Nate over the summer, he should get part of his child support back.

Hmmmmm… well, Court doesn’t see it that way. Court says only overnights count and that didn’t change at all. As a matter of fact, if you count the times that Jeff couldn’t care for his son because he was drunk, I’m pretty sure I’d come out ahead in that. Jeff also complains that he doesn’t see Danlel, so why should he pay child support? Now I’m trying to figure out which way it should go… don’t see your child, pay no child support – see your child, pay no child support… I think he needs to make up his mind.

He made the comment, “So, you gonna try and turn Nate against me? HUH? HUH?” I thought, “Why? You’re doing a fine job all by yourself! No need for me to get involved when you got that covered on all bases.” I think he may have been nipping at the bottle a bit.

Nate and I went to T-Bird’s to see J3, who had his 8th birthday today. I said, “Remind me again why I slept with Jeff.” You don’t want to know her answer. It involves me being an idiot and Jeff being good at sex, which the thought of these days makes me want to vomit. Don’t you love truthful friends?

In other news, one of my cousins has been diagnosed with adenoma carcinoma, which I understand means, canceralloveryourbody. He’s 43. My other cousin is in rehab. He’s 47ish. I think I’ll stay 39 forever.

My dad was extremely ill from the effects of heat exhaustion, to the point he actually spent a couple of days in bed. Does my mother call me? No. Had she called me I would have prescribed Gatorade, and Goodys headache powders. Does wonders for heat exhaustion. For some reason I’m very susceptible to dehydration and heat exhaustion, so anytime I’m outside in the intense heat for long periods of time I alternate water and Gatorade, like I did at X-Fest. So, my dad lays around with his electrolytes all screwed up for two or three days before it dawned on my mother to force feed him Gatorade.

Am I actually adopted? Honestly, have you ever wondered that?

Just another day in paradise.

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