Pissy

My dad and I have a troubled relationship. I believe that I have covered that before. And sometimes we have a period of peace accord and I wonder why we ever fight. After all of my work shit he has been so supportive. Frustrating, yes. But supportive and positive.

Except last week he gave me this whole guilt trip about how my mother was angry with me because I didn't call her enough after it happened. Or something. I didn't really get it. But I don't always understand my mother and her feelings. She does not operate on a logic I understand. I was torn between feeling bad because I had hurt her feelings and being pissed off that somehow I was guilty when the crap was happening to me. It turned into this whole existential battle and I was just annoyed with the whole thing by this week.

Went shopping with my mom today.

My dad was making it up.

I doubt that he was consciously lying. At minimum he described the situation poorly. At maximum he was manipulating me so I would call her and make her feeling better.

This is why he and I still have to work to remain friends. Not because he is a bad person or because I am a bad person. But we just manage to piss each other off so damn much.

Flattered Or Not

Even though I look young I have gotten used to the fact that teenaged boys don't hit on me anymore. I have become the target of older men in their thirties and forties. Sadly, more than half of them with mustaches. Which I think we can all agree is a bad thing (note: I like facial hair, in fact I insist J keep a beard or goatee but mustaches make me think of mafia stoolies or rednecks with jock itch and that is not ok with me).

So imagine my surprise at the mall today when a sales clerk at Sam Goody/Musicland/Whatever blurted out,"You seem like a cool girl, want to go get some coffee?"

Apparently, the fact that I was purchasing a cd that was not Britney Spears' Greatest Hits = cool to a music store clerk. I guess he wasn't a teenaged boy because he was the assistant manager. But I am fairly certain that he couldn't buy me a beer yet.

I told him, no thanks, that I am married. And he stopped for a minute and then said, "Ever cheat?"

Uh no actually. Its pretty hard to stun me into silence but I just sort of mumbled and turned around to leave the store. Just wanting to get my ass out of there so I practically ran.

Straight into a magazine rack.

It is fairly awkward to have to pick up about ten thousand copies of Stuff, Maxim and FHM when you have just refused to fuck a guy over coffee. But somehow I managed it.

At least he had a hot ass.

YES I checked it out. I had to figure out if I was flattered or not.

The Day is Just Packed

I just want to say thank you to everyone who has commented with their support. The only thing that I hate about blogger is that your email or url addresses aren't available so I can't reply. But your comments are appreciated.

Its gorgeous here in Seattle. Am planning on getting my hair cut. Take the dogs for a walk. And take a nap on my deck.

A truly rigorous schedule.

Different World

I didn't realize that this was happening today.

I guess that explains the police officers in SWAT gear holding assault rifles outside.

I know that on that national level Seattle has this odd reputation because of the WTO riots. But this is such a crunchy granola peace loving city that it was a big shock to see that out there this morning.

Of course we have violence. And crime. It is a city, that happens.

But the streets are blocked. Police aren't on bicycles they are in SWAT gear. It is a different world today.

Still Struggling

My depression is worse.

I do not know what to do about it really. I do not think that more medication is an answer. I am not sure if counseling is. It is hard to imagine talking about my problems will help but it might. Mostly I feel that if I could just solve one or too it would all be manageable.

In the past few months it seems like everything in my life has fallen apart a little. It started when J had problems at work. We were just starting to feel secure and like we were moving forward. That really took us down a peg I guess.

And then Gladys died.

I have to tell you for a while I thought the world was ending.

There is no preparing for that. There is no way to understand how some people are fortunate and others hit the genetic shit lottery. It was not her time to go and anyone who believes differently can just fuck off. Obviously I am still slipping into anger stage.

In some ways I am grateful for how that made me appreciate what I do have. I love my husband. I make fun of him here often. Actually, I make fun of him in person nearly constantly. But at the risk of sounding like a tool I am so thankful to be married to him. No one else would put up with my shit. And if that means that I have to sleep with a Yankee fan that has invested his 401K in comic books than that is how it has to be.

I am grateful for my family. For my parents and my sister. That all of us are trying to figure out how to make right what went wrong in our lives together. I know that we will figure it out someday.

But losing her hit me in a way that I have not figured out how to deal with yet.

I got some unfortunate medical news that I am not ready to talk about here. Or actually anywhere. It is the big no-go topic around here. I haven't really told anyone because I don't know what we are going to do yet. Its not life threatening. Its not anything that I will not get through ok. It just means my life will be different. It already is. But different isn't always a bad thing. and I do believe that if you wake up each morning. And can breath in and out on your own you are already ahead of the game.

And then the work stuff happened. I do not know what else to say about that. I am going to have to figure out a way to live without loving my work. I have to figure out a way to be positive and just get through it. But I haven't yet.

I am at a loss. I wouldn't blame y'all for not caring about this. I am such a downer. I can't help it though. Just know that I am struggling here. I guess I will figure it out one day.

Go. To. The. Pharmacy. (Asshole)

I was all set to write about how sick J is and how sorry I feel for him. I mean the poor guy has strep throat and a sinus infection at once. Does it get shittier than that without some sort of pneumonia being entered into the equation?

But then I just talked to him. The doctor prescribed antibiotics and a steroid inhaler and a bunch of crap. This morning.

J just asked me to pick up his prescriptions on the way home.

What. The. Fuck.

You go to the pharmacy on the way home. If its not ready you sit in their waiting room polluting the place until the get it together just to get your ass out of there. You do not go, find out it is not ready and decide to feel shitty for an extra twelve hours. Going to the doctor this morning did your ass no good if you don't do what he tells you to.

The dumbass at the end of that sentence is silent.

I am torn between wanting to kick his ass and feeling sorry for him.

Bastard.

One Day I Might Be Right

Since I was a little kid, probably a lot younger than was normal or at all healthy, I have wanted to have a plan. A plan for everything. A plan for what happens when your plan works, a plan of what to do if it doesn't, a plan for if an elephant steps all over your fucking plan and you need to find an elephant trainer. STAT.

Plans change. All the time. But just having thought about every possible angle is helpful to me. Even if none of it works out at all.

The thing is I was supposed to get that job. I was. I was qualified. I was a great candidate. She loved me. My references were impeccable. I had some one tell this woman she was a fool if she didn't hire me. I could start right away.

And it just didn't happen.

I don't know what to do. Literally. I am sitting here just like I sat at work today. I am turning over my job to some one on Monday (which is a whole nothing shit storm that I am just ignoring right now) and taking over something else that will take maybe a minute a half a day. And I don't know what to do now.

I can't just move on to plan B because there isn't a plan B.

I have no plan B.

How pathetic am I? But honestly, the last year has been a wind tunnel. I haven't moved forward. I haven't moved forward with anything. I can't make the changes that I need to because I don't control those changes. I can't move forward and I can't move back and nothing is working out the way it was supposed to. I know that not everything can go my way. But something just one thing to even move me forward a hair would be helpful.

I am not a naturally optimistic and sunny person and I am trying really hard to put a positive spin on everything. But Goddamn that is getting hard.

Things that I am not writing about but am still obsessing over:

1. What exactly did my boss mean when he said he thought I was a creative soul and was selling myself short? That he would help me or that he wouldn't?

2. Would I have gotten the job if I had just worn some color instead of all black?

3. Is it too late to join the circus?

4. How am I supposed to continue to love Ephram when his hair looks like that? I know the hairdressers on that show aren't blind because Emily VanCamp always looks lovely so they need to get on the stick and fix that shit now.

5. Why did my bag of popsicles come without any LIME? What kind of people withhold lime from a woman with a sore throat? Are the animals?

I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be better. Some day I will be right.

Popsicles for Dinner

This weekend J was down with an ugly ugly cold/flu/death watch with a snotty nose, fever and sore throat. I felt sorry for him but honestly, he is never sick so . . it really is his turn. But still, very pitiful.

Then today I was in a meeting with my boss and my eyes started watering and I was flushed and I could barely talk. I think the poor man thought I was crying. Fucking husband and his fucking GERMS.

And then I did not get the big girl fancy job.

But. I am eating popsicles for dinner. So its not all bad.

Too Much Information

Whatever you do, do not start plugging in everyone you know into this. Its worse than google. Google will only help you find photographic proof that one of your co-workers was once the Puyallup Daffodil Queen. But this, this will make you realize that some one who is supposedly 37 is actually 41. And you can't tell anyone.

Rabble scrabble technology.

Cheaper Than Therapy

I find something very soothing about going tanning. Yes, I know that it is bad for me. Skin cancer yeah yeah yeah. And you would think the booth would feel claustrophoibc. But there is something relaxing about laying back in that lit up coffin, feeling the skin damage happen.

I went tanning this morning. It was a long week. Better than I expected. And definitely better than the week before. I just feel worn out though. Like a rag that has just washed a sink full of dishes.

I went in a didn't even turn on the radio. Just laid down. Closed my eyes. And felt calm for the first time in a month. I wasn't angry. I wasn't upset. I could just breath in and out.

All of the sudden tears were running downs the sides of my face. I don't know when I started to cry. And I don't know why. I wasn't sad, I wasn't frustrated. I just was crying.

Cheaper than therapy. And you get a tan too.

Not My Side

Like all the Jewish holidays, J and I don't have any traditions for Passover. We are not keeping kosher this week, mainly because it is so confusing and difficult that I don't think we are ready yet. I hope to do it next year or at least soon. We also did not clean our house to hospital-like conditions. But I did clean upstairs today, just my normal weekly cleaning.

I do not enjoy cleaning. And I am not particularly anal about keeping my house clean. I have animals and a husband and trying to keep it in spotless condition is a losing battle. And for the most part that does not bother me a bit.

But I do love having my house be clean. Obviously not enough to do it every day but there is something very satisfying about going to sleep with everything where it should be. On clean sheets. With freshly vacuumed carpet.

Of course the sheets are slightly less clean since Buster just sneezed and wiped his face on them. I would care but it's on J's side.

Not a Fucking Mother

J just called to ask me if he could go to a concert in Chicago this summer.

I am so fucking annoyed right now.

I hate it when he does this. First, I am not his mother or his keeper so he doesn't need my permission to do anything. Second, if he thought that it was no big deal moneywise he would have told me so. Instead he wanted me to have to be the bitch and say we don't have the money.

I hate that. I wish we did have the money. I mean he could go. But we couldn't move this summer the way that we had planned. And we would be poor for the rest of the year. Which would totally be worth it if this was something that was really important to him. That was worth that to him.

In which case just say that. Don't call me up and try to get me to say no so that you can tell your buddy, "My wife won't let me." I have earned enough of a reputation as a bitch without your assistance, thank you.

To top it all off he has flatly refused to go to Chicago before. Its where he did his bootcamp for the Navy and even though I really want to go to a game at Wrigley he said he would never go back.

You are really not making your case there.

If he wants to go he should just come up with a plan and we can talk about it. But don't ask me like you are a sixteen year old wanting to go to a kegger.

I am not your fucking mother.

Harpy

A friend of mine is buying a house (yay! some one with good news!). She had a minor meltdown today because the combination of money worries and closing stress was just weighing on her. She was talking about how in order to get her offer through she had to wave the inspection.

And I just blurted out what a dumb idea that was and what a big risk and . . .

I realized that I was being a know-it-all harpy bitch.

I was one of Those People.

I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I hate it when people butt in about other people's money choices, how they raise their children, what they do in their marriage. It is the one thing that is sure to enrage me and I was so guilty of it. Of course I immediately apologized and told her that I was sure that she was making the right choices for her.

But I know the damage was done. I mean I know that I know what is best for the rest of the world, but I really should learn to shut my goddamn mouth.

Scary

Is anyone else really creeped out by the commercial for Britney's new show?

I mean if the commercial is that disturbing I am thinking that the show has to be unwatchable.

Kevin looks like a serial killer. And her asking him about marriage on what appears to be like their third meeting makes this feel even more like a stunt.

Waiting

So I had my "informal meeting" about the fancy schmancy big girl job.

Y'all I want this job oh so much.

I would be good at it. I would enjoy it. They would pay me more money. I would have an excuse to buy new spring clothes!

And all I can do is wait.

FUCK

At Least There Was a Slurpee

On the way home J was grabbing at my in his evil little way and I did what any normal wife would do--tried to stop him.

And in the struggle we gouged my finger.

Literally, a strip of skin skimmed off, like string cheese.

So I have this weird gash on my finger that hurts and is bleeding.

At least he bought me a Slurpee on the way home.

WTF?

Is it just me that is alarmed that the Blogger spellcheck doesn't recognize fuck, motherfucker or cocksucker as words?

How is a delicate flower such as myself supposed to write an entry?

Whatever It Takes

One of the things that I hate about myself is that I have totally bought into this whole "women cannot be aggressive" crap that society pushes on us.

Forgive me while I get very Women's Studies 101 on you for a moment.

I get frustrated that I feel guilty asking for things. Fighting for things. I worry about looking pushy or bitchy. I sometimes feel that if I just work hard and do the right things that good fortune will just happen.

But the truth is that good things happen to those that ask for them, fight for them and do whatever they have to do. Sometimes that makes you look like you are pushy. I am going to have to get over that and be a bitch for a while.

I have an opportunity, since I need a new job anyway, to get one that I will love. That will be a career move. That will pay enough money to really make a difference for my family. Right now I make more money than J (which doesn't bother either of us) but he won't forever. My making money now gives him the chance to learn the things that he needs to be successful. The most important thing I can do for him is give him this chance.

I need to do whatever it takes to do this for us. Fuck the patriarchy.

See, I did learn something at my women's college.

Keep Your Fingers Crossed

So far my positive attitude = opportunities to come is working out pretty good.

Interview for Big Girl job that I really want and pays more money tomorrow morning.

EEEEEK!

Cautiously Optimistic

Y'all, I have to admit that I am proud of myself. After a day of rage, a day of panic and a day of moping I decided last night that I am just going to make the best of everything. Am I still disappointed? Sure. But I accepted their offer today, I am going to stay in my department, doing a smaller job for the same pay I make now. I have enough contacts that I think that I will find something else fairly fast. All I said to my boss is that I wanted us to spin this to the other girls in the most positive way possible. I cannot stand to have people feel sorry for me.

Ok. I don't like for people to openly feel sorry for me.

I think I actually impressed my boss with professionalism and good attitude. And, as karma would have it, she used to work with a woman that is hiring for the job I really want. She says she will call and recommend me. And I believe her.

I kept waiting for something good to happen. The weird thing is, this might be it.

Though I will still beat the shit out of anyone that says, "everything happens for a reason."

Don't be motherfuckers just because I am happy right now.

Not Burning Any Bridges

Today is better.

Not that I have any idea what I am going to. Nor do I know exactly how I am going to go into work tomorrow and pretend that everything is fine until I do decide.

I have a few options. A couple of them are dream scenerios that would make me think this was a good thing that just happened. But given the way my year has progressed so far I doubt that they will work out.

I have options that I do not like at all. Options that involve poverty (the middle class version). Options that involve burning professional bridges. And an option that involves swallowing my pride. I honestly do not know what to do, I have no idea what is best for me and for my family (shut up, a husband and two dogs are totally a family).

What I do know is that this isn't my fault. And being angry feels good but it is not productive. I cannot control what is happening I can only control what I do about it. This makes me feel both mature and like a guest on Dr. Phil.

My father thinks that I should raise hell. Throw a fit. Prove how unfair this situation was, try to drag some one down with me. But I am by nature practical. I know that there are only a few companies in my area that are in this industry. And the bulk of my experience is in this industry it would be just stupid to be anything but professional about all of this.

Of course, if I win the lottery I might be flipping a few executives off.

Caller ID: Not Just For Dodging In Laws Anymore

Caller ID has saved me from 84,000 uncomfortable conversations with my father-in-law in the past few years. He calls almost daily, despite the fact that his son doesn't really want to talk to him and its not like he has anything to say. When they do finally talk it is very "uh huh, yeah ok, talk to you later" on both sides. Too bad the FIL does not take hints well. Caller ID is worth every penny so that I don't have to talk to him.

When you have had bad news your parents want to help. They really want to help, because that is what parents do. Unfortunately, they can't really help with the current situation and honestly, my dad made me feel worse yesterday. Because he was crazy mad and put me in the position of having to defend my boss which I should never have to do. So I am dodging them too today. I feel guilty about it but sometimes I can't deal. And so I won't.

I will just feel like crap and end up agreeing to see my mother's church production of The Wizard of Oz out of guilt.

Need to Stop Crying

Because I need to stop whining and crying about things that I cannot change, go read Julia, some one braver and stronger than I could ever be.

If anyone who follows that link to her writes one unkind comment to her I will cut you.

The Suckage Continues

I lost my job today.

For doing it to well ironically.

I am at a loss. And apparently you all haven't had anything good happen either. So its the year of the suck.

2005 so far:

Relatives dead: 1
Friends dead: 1
Health problems: 2
Fights with my husband:1
Friends or people close to my friends that are terminally ill: 3
Chances of me feeling better soon: 0

Needing Some Good News

2005 has not been a kind year to me. Or to anyone I know actually. I am surrounded by bad news. All awful. All the time.

Yesterday a friend lost her job. Another friend's mother had to go into the ICU. J and I are not fighting but we are not really made up either. My mother is being crazy. Another friend has put out dozens of offers out on houses and not got a single one.

It is the year of the suck and it needs to change.

Some one. Anyone. Needs to have good news. SOME ONE PLEASE.

So, if y'all love me at all, comment below on something good that has happened to you or some one you know. Double post all you want. I just need some good news.

Dumbo

J and I have been married for four years. And we have had maybe two or three real fights. Honestly, even those turn into brainstorming sessions after a bit of yelling. We both try really hard to be reasonable and fight fair and that works for us.

Today we had a very ugly fight in the car. Complete with screaming and red faces and very strong hand flingly on his part. For one of the first times in my life I actually really wanted to punch some one. Obviously, I would never do that but even having that urge (and it was very strong) scares me.

J is not much of a talker. I mean he will bore you to tears jabbering about video games or politics or sports. The man talks non-stop about that crap. But he is not good at articulating how he feels. And he is really not good about just letting some one talk something through. When we were first married it made me nuts. I would tell him about a problem and he would immediately switch into fix-it mode. I am an adult. I really do not need some one else to fix my problems. I just want to talk about them with him. Get his point of view. He has tried to do this. But honestly he just ends up sitting there, not even looking like he is paying attention. I know he is trying and he gets points for that but he is just not good at dealing with emotions.

But there are things that I need to talk about with him. And we are going to disagree a lot. And he can't do what he did this morning--tell me I was just being dramatic and ridiculous. He can't expect me to know what he is thinking. And he can't expect to talk about serious things once and then never again.

He married a woman. He is stuck talking about crap he doesn't want to. I may be like a guy in my love of sports, poker and most complex carbohydrates but we still have to talk. A lot more than he wants to. Tough.

So for the first time in our marriage, or our relationship, there is now a subject (which I do not want to get into here) that we can't talk about. That is one thing we swore we wouldn't do--I grew up watching my parents dodge any difficult topic. Politics, religion, controversial issues, their parents--they avoid those topics like the plague when at all possible. They have been married more than thirty years, love each other and my mother hasn't talked to him about any of those things since my sister or I were born I think.

I don't want to do that. J and I are not always going to agree. We certainly have not up until now. But even on highly personal and sensitive issues we have managed to keep the peace. With some effort we can respect each other's opinions.

That doesn't apply right now. This is going to be the big purple elephant in the room for quite a long time. I guess after a while we will get used to him. Maybe we will call him Dumbo.

Struggling

I am not sure what was wrong with me today. I just feel so frustrated and angry. Nothing horrible happened to me. Nothing even bad happened to me today. I just feel on edge and I can't figure out why.

I am struggling right now. I don't love my career. It doesn't honestly even feel like a career. So I don't love my job. I think that I am still trying to deal with Gladys being gone. Her death has really made me focus on what I want my life to be like. I want to be happy. I want to enjoy my family. Take pleasure in each day.

But I don't right now.

I honestly feel guilty about that. How dare I feel unhappy or frustrated? Gladys can't feel those things. I would imagine that she would do anything to hug her child one more time. I have an opportunity to really treasure what I am doing with my life and I am wasting it.

At the same time if one more person says, "You just have to live every day like it is your last," I am going to beat the shit out of them.

My Mother Can Never Know

I have always been a little afraid of dying suddenly. For the obvious reasons, of course. And because I would worry about my husband and family. Of course Gladys' death has made that a more layered and real feeling.

But I am more afraid of us dying together and some one (likely my mother) having to clean out our house. I don't want anyone to see exactly how messy and full my closet is. No one should have to deal with the bottles of cleaners under our sinks that each have about three drops in them. I own too many romance novels. And more than one Garth Brooks cd. I really do not want my mother to find my vibrator!

But my biggest shame is I do not want anyone to see what series' I record on my DVR. I have my true crime shows from A&E and Court TV which I love love love. An assortment of documentaries and shows from the History Channel. But I also have my sad housewifey choices. Like Dr. Phil. And the Ellen DeGeneres Show. And America's Next Top Model. Those are not too horrifying. But I also have Degrassi the Next Generation. Style Court. And, I am so embarrassed to admit, the Golden Girls.

Its like I have split personalities of a nerd, a ditzy teen, a housewife and my grandmother.

So its very important that I take good care of myself and don't speed and don't skydive. Because my mother can never know that I watch Laverne and Shirley.

Nothing Has Changed

We had a mildly sunny weekend and I trended right into spring mode. I want to wear t-shirts and tank tops and sandals. I went white blonde (ok I didn't mean to, it just turned out light). And I am eating summer food. All I want is graham crackers and jello and ice cream (though I always want that). I want apples with peanut butter and gallons of my Cascadia Pink Grapefruit Water with Juice.

I always eat this way a bit. But I am just not interested in regular food.

I am also extremely interested in getting a tan.

Also. New shoes.

So really nothing has changed.

So That's Where I Get It From

Today I took my mom and dad to some open houses. I really should medicate myself before I do that.

My parents are two of the most frustrating people to have ever walked the earth. Neither of them can really wrap their arms around the real estate prices in this area. Even though I have shown them all of this documentation that their house will sell for a whole crapload of money they do not believe me. And they just cannot understand that you have to pay more than 60 grand for a four bedroom house.

My parents really want to buy their current house in a nicer and more expensive neighborhood closer to the city. And somehow it has not sunk in that they would have to pay more for that.

Give me strength.

I think after today I am done for a while. I love to go to open houses. But listening to them bicker about interiors on houses that they are not going to buy requires more patience than I will ever have.

They can just move into a cardboard box behind 7-11 if they can't stop being so difficult.

Do You Want the Doggie in My Window

Both of our dogs are retired show dogs. I don't think either of them had much success in the ring. Darla, because her coat is incorrect. We know that she was shown a few times and then bred--she had three or four litters. We thought Buster didn't show well because he is slightly taller than the standard. We knew they had bred him and then sold him to us.

I now know why they didn't try to show him for any length of time. He is virtually untrainable. I love him, I think he has the most adorable personality. But pugs are difficult to train to begin with and Buster has to be among the worst of them all.

You cannot punish him. There is no punishment that seems to have an effect on him. You can yell at him, spank him, whatever but as upset as he might be while it is happening you can tell her forgets all about it minutes later. Rewarding him for good behavior is the same thing. He seems confused by the rewards. Despite all of this, I think that he does know what he is supposed to do he just doesn't care.

Darla has a bladder of steel. She can hold it until the end of time. There are very few reasons that she will pee in the house. Spite is one of them, which led to an ugly period of her pissing in our bed when we first moved into this house. Illness is another, which is how she decorated most of our carpet about a year ago when she had most of her bladder filled with stones. The only other reason she will do it is honestly if Buster does it first. She has a very strong sense of justice and you can tell she is always thinks, "well I am not going to wait if he isn't," right before pissing on the rug.

Unfortunately, Buster was not well trained before becoming part of our family. He just is not well house trained. His previous owners had a doggie door leading out to an orchard and I think that Buster spent most of his time outside. When we moved here our plan was to have stairs added to our deck, fence the yard and put a doggie door out into the yard. We should have had the builder do it and have the cost built into our mortgage. But since we didn't Buster spends a lot of his life in trouble.

So I spent most of the day today cleaning our house. Spot cleaning the carpet. Getting the odor out. It feels good to have the windows open, the house clean and the carpets smelling fabulous.

I am guessing the feeling will end as soon as Buster takes a crap in the middle of my living room.

When we move we are getting hardwood floors.

Forget Paris

Yesterday, the lovely and talented Chanadaler brought this to my attention.

Click on the link. Now. I'll wait. No, really.

What. The. Fuck.

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Is that a suit with pleated hot pants!?

There are so many problems with that I do not know where to start. Actually I do. Pleated and cuffed short shorts. Worn in a professional setting. With a suit jacket with short and puffy sleeves. And heels. Again. A suit with hot pants.

If some one shows up in my office wearing that shit I am pouring beer in her weave. It looks like unholy alliance of Daisy Duke and Jacqueline Kennedy. It is not cute, flattery or appropriate for any occasion that a normal would ever attend.

Banana, why hath thou forsaken me? I count on you for flattering and classic styles to wear to work. I know that I can always walk into your stores and find something that will fit me and work for my life. Yes, you have flirted with some unfortunate styles. Yes, you carry wear more glitter than I am confortable with. Yes, every season you use some ugly ugly colors that I do not understand. But still. I can always find something that will look great on my within your walls.

This is an intervention. Put down the crack pipe. Back away slowly. And think about what you have done. You are totally grounded. And if there was a tough-love camp for clothing retailers they would be on the bus right now, young man.

Banana, quit trying to dress Paris Hilton. Don't think I didn't notice that she is the only skank that could imagine a place to wear that trash.

Inconceivable

Sadness
Posted by Hello

Buster would like you to know that he will never be happy again. Because Daddy locked him out of the bathroom and how can Daddy take a bath without Buster?!?

Go to Cell

So. Cell phones. I hate thee with a blinding passion.

I mean I have a cell phone. I think that its pretty much mandatory. I am fairly certain that the Washington State legislature passed a law that if you don't have a cell phone they can just come and burn down your house because you must be a maniac anyway.

So I have one. My mother pitched a fit. Suggesting that it was unsafe to not have one (even though people lived for CENTURIES without them). That I would be murdered or even worse. Apparently, Cingular has made a deal with serial killers. They only kill Verizon customers?

I don't know my cell number. I feel stupid about that but I don't know it. I don't use it that way. I call my husband to come and pick me up. I call my mother from Target to say "Wait, WHAT CARPET STUFF GETS UP DOG PUKE?!?!?!" I call people if I am late or if I am lost. That is pretty much it. I don't like to chat on my cell phone. I don't like to use it while driving or while in public (except Target because I need that carpet stuff).

And I hate them. I hate that they ring all fucking day in my office. I hate that people talk on them loudly on elevators, in stores, at the library. I want to punch my husband when he just picks his up while driving 80 miles an hour on the freeway because he keeps forgetting to ask his mother for his cousin's phone number and since he is thinking about it . . .

Mostly I just hate this idea that we have to be in constant communication with one another. That J's dad can call us at any time. That no space, private or public, can escape the fucking phone.

A friend of mine told me about driving her young teen daughter and her friends home from a movie last night and all four of them having their cell phones ring and they were just talking away.

These are thirteen year olds. Are they like Doogie Houser? Could they have patients that need them right away? And so they are driving down the road, all of them talking to different people.

Its like the constant communication makes people even more disconnected.

And I really hate the ring the person in the next office uses. I mean its practically a torture device fit for the Bush administration.

Are You There God? Its Me Anyabeth

I get myself into a lot of trouble and act like an asshole by forgetting one thing. Not everyone thinks like me. Now I understand the irony of this because I get so pissed when other people are not aware of different points of view. But I recognize that this is a fault of mine.

Of course this comes out in the ugliest way during controversial topics. Like religion and politics. Of course I am passionate about what I believe but I do try to be concious that other people have the right to their opinions as well.

So. I really do not understand the whole "God has a plan" mentality. And believe me I am trying. My parents believe this. Actually my entire family believes that. But I don't. I can't.

To me that says that God prefers one person over another. That he is racist, because people of color start off life in a worse position than white people. That he is sexist, because women are considered inferior to me. It implies that people are chosen to be serial killers. It just implies that God loves certain people more than others.

And there is no religious document that dictates discrimination like that. In fact, all the major religions say that everyone is equal. They talk about free will.

I believe that people make their own destiny. That part of free will means that you had to deal with the cards that you are dealt. I don't believe that God wants some one to die or live or be rich or poor. I sure as Hell do not believe that people are called by God to be President. I don't believe that God loves America more than France. That just doesn't make sense to me.

And I cannot wrap my arms around that other people think otherwise. Every time some one says, "well, its God's will," I want to scream.

GOD DOES NOT CARE IF YOU WIN SURVIVOR ASSHOLE.

But, I need to get my act together because how can I ask people to respect my beliefs if I can't respect theirs.

BUT DAMN. Would be so much easier if everyone would just do what I want. I'm saying.

Even on ESPN It Is Funny

Ten years ago, the Seattle Mariners made a crazy come-from-behind-refuse-to-lose-upset in the playoffs. The New York Yankees choked in a fashion that was only surpassed this past year. 1995 was the last season before Yankee great Don Mattingly retired. He was, and is, my husband's favorite player.

J through a shoe through a television set when that game ended. And has hated the Seattle Mariners ever since.

Yesterday we went to the Mariners' home opener. Every time they introduced one of their players, who has the same first and last name as J, I would just laugh and laugh. Its not an unusual name. But honestly, every time I think of, "starting for the SEATTLE MARINERS J***** HATESTHEMARINERS!!!!" I cannot stop laughing.

The sports gods have a sense of humor.

Bloody Monday

I had this very gross and very puffy blood blister on my toe this evening. I didn't leave it alone. I did what any sensible person would do.

I poked it with cuticle clippers.

God help J if I am ever the victim of a homicide. Because there was blood everywhere. Its possible that I will need a transfusion. And it just kept bleeding and bleeding. On the floor. Filling up tissue after tissue. On the toilet lid.

I just spent the last hour and a half with my foot wrapped in a towel and propped on a big stack of pillows.

Horror of horrors, J has had to wait on me hand and foot. Maybe I will do it again tomorrow.

Shaking My Fist At You Oprah

A few years ago Oprah did a special on the secrets of thieves--precautions to take to prevent thefts of your belongings while out in public.

One of her big tips was for in the bathroom. She said to never hang your handbag on the hook on the back of the door. That thieves watch your feet and when you are facing the toilet they just reach over the door and snag your bag.

Now when new bathrooms are built they don't put hooks on the back of the stall doors anymore. They put them on the side of the stall--about belt high.

Somehow I always forget that though. And that is how, this afternoon, I found myself clutching the side of my head, feeling a little dizzy after whacking the side of my face on that damn hook.

Damn you, Oprah.

Could Be Our Year

When I was a kid and we would decorate our Christmas tree, my sister would always put on the same record of Christmas music. And there was this song called "The Most Wonderful Time (Of the Year)." I have never heard it sung on any other record or at any other time. We would all sing along and decorate the tree and it was how we would ring in the season.

I don't remember the exact lines. I know the gist. Something about everyone is of good cheer because this is the most wonderful time of the year. Something.

Well now that I am a Jew I do not celebrate Christmas so much anymore. And I don't listen to carols or that record and I don't decorate a tree.

But that song was in my head today. Because this is the most wonderful time of the year for me. Baseball season.

There is something that feels so fresh and beautiful about opening day. To me this is the beginning of the year--screw New Years. Today is the day that no matter how shitty your team is, they are in first place. They could still win it all. Every real baseball fan is an optimist on Opening Day.


Even a life long Cubs fan like myself can feel like this could be our year.

What I Really Wish I Had Done With My Life

I really believe that whomever came up with Craft Corner Deathmatch deserves to be the President of the Style Network. If I had come up with that show I wold want that engraved on my tombstone. I would introduce myself to people with an oh-so-breezy, "Hi, I'm Anyabeth Lastname, creator of CRAFT CORNER DEATHMATCH!"

Sadly, I have a feeling that this person is deeply ashamed and possibly huddling in their bedroom thinking about what they have done.

Shabbat Guilt

When we began the whole conversion process we decided that we wanted to go to Shabbat every Friday night. Not because it was required or anything, there are Jews that have never been to a Shabbat. But this was a way for us to immerse ourselves into the Jewish community.

Obviously neither of us have any family traditions of celebrating Shabbat at home. And our temple has a wonderful and eccletic group that attends on Fridays. It is a relaxing way to finish the week. Somehow it makes it easy to close out business and move into a time for family and reflection.

Unfortunately, we have a hard time actually getting there. Something seems to keep happening. One or both of us has been sick. We have hit traffic. Life just keeps happening. And I know that no one thinks anything about us missing. Of course the little nerdy A student in me keeps screaming in my ear about it. But the main thing is that I miss going. I miss learning and studying with other people. I miss the celebration of it all. It really is my favorite couple of hours a week.

Tonight we were determined to go. We had dinner. I didn't feel really good but I was just going to lay down for a half hour or so to see if I could feel better. About fifteen minutes before we needed to go I went in and J is knocked out asleep.

That is the hard thing. Friday is my day off so I am always rested and ready to go. But J has to work and is always exhausted when he gets home. I just did not have the heart to wake him up. So we will miss again this week. I hate it. I feel guilty. Which I know is not how to celebrate Shabbat.

But Buster and Darla just came in. And are sleeping on my feet. My husband and Rooster are in the next room. My family is here. We are together. And that is how you celebrate.

Just Give Me the Fucking Cheese

I don't really like April Fools' Day. I actually hate any holiday that bullies people into participating. Valentine's Day, where your husband is forced to buy you flowers or every woman in your office will pity you. St. Patrick's Day, where the country pretends to be Irish and wears green and gets drunk. And if you don't people pinch you all day long. And now April Fool's Day. Play fucked up, usually not funny and often stupid pranks on people day.

I like to laugh as much as the next person but when I go to Auntie Anne's Pretzels and they tell me they are out of cheese only to be all HA! April Fools! well that just pisses me off.

I think part of my annoyance with the holiday is that my mind just is not set up to think of elaborate pranks. And if you can't think of anything to do to others than this holiday is mainly about being a victim.

And its not like you can just punch the kid at Auntie Anne's and then say, "APRIL FOOLS!"