Many Different Things

Last night J and I were watching Number 8 on America's Game (I weep for those of you without the NFL Network) when I fell asleep. I am fairly certain that this dooms my attempt to be admitted into the J's Arbitrary Club of 49ers Fans for yet another season (PLEEAAAASE LET ME IN . . .I HAVE A JERSEY), I mean I can't remember the difference between the 1984 team and the 89 team and seriously, it is a wonder he lets me live in this house. And I fell asleep.

I expect to get the divorce papers served sometime tomorrow. He will repent, of course, because he needs me to get bank charges reversed and to teach him about hair products. I will get a shiny gift to beg my forgiveness or perhaps he will catch the messenger just before the papers are served.

Either way if I could just keep my fucking eyes open things would be so much better.
***
Anyone else ever see like a random can or bottle chilling on the street (especially in a bag) and think (nervously) that maybe Ted Kazinsky isn't really the Unabomber or had an apprentice and schrapnel is going everywhere the second some one tries to pick up that litter?

Just me? Ok.
***
I have no short term memory to speak of, absolutely none, and have all these coping techniques so that I don't get fired or lost or locked away in a loony bin (though sometimes getting locked away is tempting--not that those places are restful but I could probably use a break). Sadly, this means that I attend meetings with stacks of paper and take notes with a fervor associated with the worst kinds of freaks and brown nosers. This makes people either paranoid that I am trying to trap them or bemused at what an ass kiss I am. I wish I could hand out little cards with a printed message on them, something like "Notes are being taken of this meeting because AB cannot remember her own name without looking at her driver's license and she is presumably attending this meeting so she can contribute in some way," but I am thinking that would harm my credibility somehow.

All this note taking makes me feel like I am going to be taking an exam at some point and need to ruthlessly study.

Which I would totally fail by the way because I am watching back episodes of Mythbusters.
***
J and I have decided that with everything that has happened we deserve a fancy vacation this spring. Does anyone know anything about cruises? Good, no good? Where should we go? HELP ME WE DON'T ACTUALLY TAKE VACATIONS.

Frightened

My father's cousin is dying. He was having severe pain in his shoulder and they found a huge cancerous mass in it--along with cancer in his bones and lungs. Of course he is seeking a second opinion and treatment but the initial estimate is he has less than six months to live. He is in his early forties, has young children and is the backbone of his father's business. So now there is a panic mode to get his affairs in order, sell the business, find care for his parents.

There are so many kids in that family I don't know the man very well, and he is so much younger than my dad I doubt my dad feels particularly close with him either. The problem is that this is how it goes in my family. Everyone eventually gets cancer, many survive their first and even second bout with it, but in the end that is what we die of. Literally, I am not sure I can think of anyone in the family that has died of anything else.

The truth is, in a fucked up and morbid way, barring a horrifying accident I will probably die of cancer. It is bizarre to think about your body as a time bomb--the disease is there just waiting to bloom. The only cancer we had largely escaped was breast cancer. But my baby cousin has a lump on her breast, which scares me almost disproportionately. Chances are it is just a fibroid, she is only twenty-one, but I am alarmed by even the thought.

I know that my family is not unique. That this disease has ruined many families just as it is killing mine. But I am still heartbroken. And afraid. I don't know how I can help but be afraid.

Two Times A Year Is More Than Enough

The end of the week was long as fuck. I was just so burnt and fried that going into the office Friday felt like torture. And then last night I had the brilliant idea of drinking a gallon-sized limoncello martini on an empty stomach.

Sometimes I wonder if I am brain damaged.

At least I entertained J, until I passed out in the bathroom. In all my idiocy in college I don't think I ever blacked out but I honestly don't remember much of last night.

FOOL. If limoncello can take down Danny Devito on the View what makes me think I can handle it?

I learned a lot of shit in NY. First, the dryness made my hair look FABULOUS which is the opposite of what I expected. The humidity here in Seattle makes my roots greasy so I can't go too long between shampoos. I think if I lived in a dry climate like that I could go three or four days easy. Second, my skin fucking hates New York. Somehow it was dry and scaly but still breaking out which would sound impossible and yet somehow I managed it. Add the lack of sleep and the seriously bad for me food I was eating and I am surprised that J kissed me when I got back into down. Third, I learned people act like they have been let out of prison on business trips. Something I still do not understand. Did they not attend high school? Do they not realize that the whole damn company is going to know that they got drunk at dinner and finished the night off wrestling in the street? There is gin in Seattle dude, drink your G&Ts here. Fourth, I am an idiot business trip packer. This was my frist trip so maybe I can be forgiven for that but WHY DO I NOT OWN PANTS THAT ARE WEARABLE WITH FLATS? Walking over all of creation in high heeled shoes (even comfortable ones) is just stupid. My feet swelled up like little sausages and I have many mysterious bruises.

I'm glad to be home, still exhausted, and am very glad I don't have to go again until July.

Three Days Is Plenty

I'm leaving for the airport in about five hours and FUCK I need to go to sleep. Three days in the city and it has been all working and eating and more working.

Tonight we finally got to have a little relaxation and went to the Knick's game. They faked it a while, and stayed with the Suns. But eventually you could see what all the sports guys have been saying all along. Fucking ridiculous how shitty they play with as good as they could be.

The real show wasn't happening on the court though. We had cheap seats (well, New York cheap seats, still seventy bucks) and it was practically the bleachers at Yankee Stadium. This couple in front of us were cheering for the Sun's and when they bitched about the hard time the guys in their section were giving them they basically got told they were lucky that the entire Garden wasn't chanting "You Suck" at them. For the most part it was all good natured and a great example of what is so interesting about New Yorkers.

I don't actually think they are any more rude or agressive than anyone else. There are rude people everywhere. I think that New Yorkers are just less self-concious then the rest of the world. I think it is almost impossible to do something unusual here so people just say whatever they think no matter what anyone might think of them. Seattle is just self-concious city. New Yorkers just don't give a shit.

I'm still ready to go home though. Too bad we couldn't take a later flight.

Alarming Things From Today

1. Looking up my nose in the giant magnifying mirror in my hotel bathroom. WHEN DID I GET NOSE HAIR?

2. The gigantic veal chop I ate, fried, preceded by many appetizers, followed my desserts and booze, at like ten at night.

3. Getting up at six this morning. GODDAMN.

4. Running around to meetings all day (talking to strangers like an adult!) and then having to stand in line for a cab for eighty-seven days.

5. That H&M is not cute, no matter how it was billed.

6. That I have been in New York for more than 24 hours and have taken zero photos. And I am not sure I will get to do so.

7. Mariah Carey's ex-husband watching our dinner party in horror and actually having the concern that WE ARE GOING TO GET THROWN OUT IN FRONT OF TOMMY MOTTOLA (we weren't through the miracle of a waiter that didn't speak English and a HUGE tab).

My Sinuses Still Hurt Like A Mother

I feel like a wrung out dishrag right now.

A cross-country flight when you have a sinus headache is like a Senate session in hell. Fortunately, our flight was under-booked so it wasn't sardine packed. By the time we landed I was almost a basket case my head hurt so much, but of course I want to seem professional so I kept trying to pretend I was fine.

J would be so proud because I sacked up and went to dinner anyway. He was right, I am totally a pussy and will skip events at the slightest provocation. But I went anyway and I am so glad I did. The guacamole alone was worth going (though at thirty bucks I am glad I didn't have to pay for it). But I knew the networking was important and it was important to go. Plus, I found the company delightful since it was with three gay men and a bunch of single girls. This means the talk was all gossip and home decorating and dog pictures.

Plus I got back to watch the most stressful ten minutes of football EVER. THANK GOD THAT THE PATRIOTS LOST.

I do not want to hear SHIT about Peyton Manning ever again.

I am a little in love with my hotel room, even though it is a little shoe box. It has a king sized bed and a down comforter and I don't have to share any of it with a dachshund.

Tomorrow is going to be a long ass day.

But it is a long ass day that does not have to deal with a Patriots/Bears Super Bowl (which is unwatchable as far as I am concerned).

Where Did I Put The Goddamn CHARGER

I need to leave my house at like 5:15 tomorrow and I am still not done packing. I'm still debating on whether to take the laptop or not and I cannot find the battery charger for my camera battery. J is sick so it has just been a rough day all around.

All week people have expected me to be excited about this trip. One, it is for work, so I do not understand this idea that it will be a party a minute. I know people do crazy things on work trips but I am still proving myself so I have no desire at all to get drunk with people I have to work with. Two, I am almost terminally shy. So spending five days with people I don't know that well and also my boss is like a nightmare for me. This is my mental illness I am well aware.

My big goal is to have good meetings and not make an ass of myself. The little ones are to get to spend a couple of hours at the Met, take pictures all over the city and eat some really good Chinese.

Well see how it goes.

Crabby Old Bitch Before My Time

Things that I am letting irritate me, probably a wee bit overly much:

1. The kids from Greenpeace that practically assault you on the street during lunch, who may shove their self-righteousness up . . . well you see my point.

2. The woman doing LAMAZE breathing while shitting in the bathroom at work today. We've all done it in our less delicate moments but goddamn try not to do it when other's are in the room.

3. Every single person on Top Chef--every contestant is an asshole and the host a robot and DAMN.

4. This zit that keeps re-appearing at the corner of my mouth.

5. The fact that no stores have boots left in stock in my size that are not fugly or stupid and yes I know the retail calendar has flipped and everything is sandals but I WANT NEW BOOTS.

6. All the lightbulbs in my house seem to be burning out. Of course, maybe that means we should REPLACE THEM.

7. New York was seventy degrees until a couple of weeks ago. Now that I am headed there this weekend it is like twenty degrees.

Perhaps I need to sack up and stop being so pissy. But I doubt it.

Bueller?

Anyone else ever take a shit and see corn it and think, "Wait a minute, when the fuck was the last time I ate corn?"

Anyone? Anyone? . . .

Pro-Toolbelt

Every cheesy single-gal in the city article I have read mentions the grocery store as a place to pick up men. And since I have not really ever been in that demographic (yes I was single, but I wasn't ever trying to pick up a guy) I never paid much attention to it (except I used to have this produce man who gave me free stuff but I don't think that is exactly the same thing). My single friends bitched that they never met anyone anywhere.

But yesterday, before the game, I was at the grocery store stocking up on garlic bread and Doritos (ok gross, not to be eaten together) when a man starts talking to me about the game. We're strolling the aisles and chatting about whether a ten am start means it is too early for beer and hotdogs (no, but you can always have a bloody mary which makes it brunch). And he blurts out, "Do you want to watch the game with me? I mean, you don't have to come to my house, we could go to the bar and watch?"

Apparently I am oblivious, because I really didn't think the dude was picking me up until then.

But J should feel fortunate I just thanked the man and went out to the car. I mean he was cute and wearing a toolbelt and I believe my position on toolbelts is well documented (new readers: I am pro-toolbelt).

Damn fortunate because I did check out his ass as he left and DAYAM.

Probably Like Ten

Well, after a lovely football day yesterday (Saints and Colts winning) today just went to shit. The Chargers collapsed and the Seahawks kept up (amazingly because damn is anyone NOT injured) but couldn't seal the deal. We watched it at Travis' house and have now decided that it is a jinx and NEVER AGAIN.

A friend of ours was there, one that I haven't seen in months. J had told him I was pregnant and earlier this week I asked if he had told him I wasn't anymore. Just because I didn't want him to say something. And J assured me he had.

He didn't. And our friend naturally assumed I was still pregnant, which damn I would look DAMN good for this stage of the game.

I sort of hate J for it. He has handled so much of this perfectly and damn this is unfair but not only did he lie (which I actually understand) but he failed to do the follow up to the lie which is rushing to tell the guy so that you don't get caught.

I shouldn't hate him, he does his best.

But I do a bit. Just for a few more minutes.

Could More Shitty Things Happen? PLEASE SAY NO

I don't trust people who don't like animals, who don't have pets. I am not talking about those with allergies, or those who travel too much, but I'm talking about those people who wrinkle their noses and roll their eyes when they hear stories about dogs and cats.

I am pretty sure that pets are part of what make us human. There is no real reason to love a dog or a cat, but because we care for them and they need us, we do.

This is Gabriel, my sister's cat. Who died early this morning. Gabe was my sister's main companion for a decade. When he was a kitten he was diagnosed with some sort of disease and my sister was told he wouldn't live to be an adult. She did what anyone not made of stone would do, she spoiled him rotten. Gabe has been notorious forever in my family not only for mysteriously living with this terminal disease but also for being the fattest cat to ever walk the earth. I never saw him run as much waddle and I swear books rattled in the cases when he waddled by.

But he had an incredible personality and he took damn good care of my sister. He, and the other's she has collected, were her family away from family until she got married (not that they aren't a big part of her new family as well). And I know that she is as devestated as she would be to lose any member of her family.

There are people who will roll their eye's at this, he was just a cat they might say. Those people shall be stoned on the street because they are fucking assholes.

Gabe was a sick cat, my sister had no illusions that this day was coming and was coming fast. But I am sure she couldn't help but be suprised. I am so sad for her.

And continue to be in denial about my own animals WHO ARE IMMORTAL LALALALALALALA.

I'm sorry honey, I really am.

Update

The wind in the storm never showed up (thankfully) and the eight inches of snow was actually like four at around four this morning. But when I woke up it was really coming down and all the forecasts were wildly divergent with one saying that it would all melt by 10am and another saying that the roads would be frozen solid by noon, and yet another saying that there would be more snow but to worry because leprechauns would melt it off using their hot breath and a hopping motion. I felt a little stupid most of the day staying home but since buckets of snow are now coming down and people are starting to crash their cars all over the damn roads I am delighted to be at home.

Things I have learned working from home today:

1. My couch is no the most ergonomic of working stations.
2. Tedious tasks, like running reports, are made much more palatable if you turn on Iron Chef America.
3. I get a lot more work done with DelSelva not sitting at my dining room table.
4. My cat hates snow. And the the cold. And possible me.
5. Sweatpants, chips and dip, and a warm dachshund would do wonders for office morale.

My house didn't fall down, or even teeter in the winds, I didn't have get in a horrifying bus crash this morning and actually I am even comfortable in my nice warm blanket. I suppose there is no need to worry about me any more.

Not Too Much More

Some one I work with announced she is pregnant today. She has the due date I would have had.

I am actually shocked by my reaction, which is equal parts excitement for her and a biting sort of sadness that I can't explain. The two emotions together make me a little dizzy.

I guess I have been in denial, thinking that I had accepted things and was moving on. I haven't exactly. We had our follow-up with the doctor, the biggest waste of time ever, to be told that there is nothing we could have done, or can do and better luck next time. It was eighty-seven thousand kinds of unhelpful--mainly because it seemed to be aimed at some one who only gets their information from doctors. But in this day and age, who wouldn't be googling the fuck out of their diagnosis? I mean, if you hemorrhage out of your cooch you should at least hit wikipedia later.

We're supposed to have some sort of crazy-ass end of days storm tonight, J and I have the pleasure of living in a zone that is set to get both seventy mile an hour winds and eight inches of snow so if y'all don't hear from me for a while it is because that tree fell through my living room and we have no power. If that happens it could be a long while before anyone hears from me.

I just don't think I can take much more.

Update

I hate to be a bitch but I wonder HOW MUCH Ohio State regrets playing the theme from Titanic at halftime since they are currently sinking like a doomed ocean liner?

I Wonder If My Sister Is Drunk Right Now

My sister attended the University of Florida and still lives in Gainesville. I can only imagine the freaking out that is happening at this moment since they are kicking the absolute shit out of Ohio (33-14 as of right now). Best part of the game (other than all the anouncers having to already eat shit since they were talking about how Florida had no shot all week)? Shots of the crowd, the Florida fans jumping up and down about to lose their minds they are so excited and the Ohio fans looking for the nearest noose to start hanging themselves from.

I'm not a real college football fan but this is fucking fun.

Lucky

Friday night I had a migraine and took a vicodin so I could just sleep. So I was confused when J stormed into our bedroom around midnight carrying every blanket we own. The power was out and since we keep our heat at around sixty degrees the house was going to get very cold should it stay out for any length of time. The wind was howling, much harder and louder than it did during the huge windstorm a few weeks ago. I had just awakened enough to understand what was happening when we heard a loud crash.

A huge limb from our tree in the front yard had come down into our front yard. More amazing, the wind blew hard enough that it cleared my car that was just below it, but not so hard that it hit the house. It landed so that the smallest branches off of it hit J's car--but did not do any damage.

I am not sure how we got so lucky.

J had to lean on the front door in order to close it the wind was still blowing so hard. We spent the rest of the night lying and freaking out because there were a lot of trees still out there and really who wants a fir tree in their bedroom?

But our luck held and the power came back on yesterday before noon. We spent this afternoon chopping up the HUGE limb in our yard. Strangely theraputic.

Catching Up

A few things:

1. I have this horrible and hated Shania Twain song in my head, but instead of singing the lyrics I met a tall, dark, handsome man . . . to myself I keep belting out I met a hard, dark, handsome man . . .which is also a lovely thing but slightly dirtier.

2. My parents keep calling me to tell me my cousins' grandmother died. Don't get me wrong, I am sure my cousins are sad about it and I didn't want the woman dead (I am sure I met her, but I am guessing I was an infant at the time--hell I haven't seen my cousins in at least ten years) but this isn't exactly an occasion that requires repeated (because they can't remember if they have told me or not) and grave phone calls. REALLY I AM ALRIGHT THAT THIS TOTAL STRANGER DIED OF BASICALLY OLD AGE.

3. J found our marriage certificate and cache of other important papers that we lost when we moved to this house. In the file box that we KNEW they were in and searched repeatedly over and over for the past year and a half saying "fuck fuck FUCK" while doing it. I KNEW THEY WERE IN THERE. So, we're still married.

4. I looked up "ramrod" on wikipedia today at work and worried more than a little that I was going to get a visit from IT. Why did I assume everyone in the world would be like me and put a porny definition in there?

5. J's knee keeps giving out. I think my jokes about him being held together with duct tape and superglue are less funny now that they are essentially true.

And I Have No Idea What That Means

Last night I had the most depressing New Year's ever. I spent it with my parents, as I sent J on his way with his buddies for our previously planned concert/boozing/extravaganza. I don't regret doing that because I think he desperately needed to be out and forgetting for a while.

I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be home. I wasn't sick but I was being treated that way. I was lonely in a way that I think most people would not understand. I'm not pregnant anymore, I'm not waiting for the time bomb anymore. That means I have to fucking deal with this huh?

I am really tired of a few things. I am tired of annoying and judgmental people (even those who are friends) who don't know a damn thing about marriage trying to decide if we behave in a way that they think is appropriate for a married couple. Just so EVERYONE KNOWS, my husband can go out without me, he can have drinks and flirt with chicks, he can even have DINNER with chicks for all I care. If he isn't making out, he is fucking anyone than great. Dude has had a traumatic couple of weeks maybe y'all could get off his back for a bit?

The truth is that I had it easy. The scary part for me was hemorrhaging at home, trying to decide how much was too much, being alone and afraid. But once I decided, once I went to the hospital, I knew I would be fine. But for J, it got a lot scarier at the hospital. I bled so much, I was so sick, I was in labor with a dead baby and well he was a little concerned about what that was going to do to me (understandably).

And on the way home, while I was still doped up, we both realized (with a shudder of fear) that if John Ashcroft had gotten his way we would have been on our way to the police station to REPORT OUR MISCARRIAGE. Anyone who still votes Republican think about what making two people who had just been through that report it all to the police means and what that would do. And then fuck yourselves, because maybe nothing will ever get through to you.

So J had a great New Year's, which he needed, and I made it through, which is the best I could hope for. And now it is 2007.