Monday, February 28, 2011

"A Christmas Story"...kind of...

Sorry no leg lamps or BB guns.  Well, actually, I can’t guarantee that. 

It was cold and snowing- naturally.  I remember the snow being that picturesque kind. 

It’s always the first weekend in December.  Perfect timing if you ask me.  Every year when this day came around the excitement and tension was almost tangible.  I swear she is a descendent of Betty Crocker.  Or maybe Martha Stewart- without the jail time of course.  The way she displays fresh grapes around the baked brie would make even lactose intolerants just “take a nibble”. Cookies mock you in their perfect rows with their perfect edible d├ęcor. 

Black olives make penguins. 

Cherries make curious Christmas mice. 

She can make taco dip look like something out of The Louvre.  I don’t know how that woman does it but I hope some of that was passed on to me. Every inch of their Victorian home is decorated impeccably. Did I mention that we have 4 Christmas trees?  Two meticulously decorated mantles? Two sets of hand-made stockings? And enough candles to light the whole Eastern Sea Board.

It was part of the Underground Railroad, their house. The history and character gives me chills. At this point,  I lived at home and my room was the old “Maid’s Quarters”(coincidence? I think not) - which was located off of the kitchen.   I wish I could show you.  Maybe someday I can.  Maybe someday I won’t have to hide. 

 My mother is the party queen.  My parents throw the best parties and everyone here knows it.  They have bartenders and multiple bars to match.  She makes enough food to feed a small country.  The police are told to ignore the double parking and are welcomed in for a to-go plate.   People drive by and gawk at the packed street like a 6th grader who didn’t get invited to the bowling party.  My parent’s parties are the best. 

Another futile attempt to get the fuck over Shamus, I invited a guy.  Not just any guy, this guy was hot.  Male perfection in human form.  Which I would later find out, he was much more aware of that than I was.  Ahemm.  I was friends with his brothers, and he caught my eye more than a few times. 

I decided to give it a shot.  I was confident that what was waiting for me under those jeans was enough to forget Shamus, even if for the night. 

In preparation for this magical day that I had detailed out in my head, I did what any semi sane girl would do.  I went and bought a new dress that I concluded hid the uglies and accentuated the goodies.  I bought my second favorite party accessory….. the “sucker-inner”.  You know what I am talking about.  Don’t deny it.  Those magical little numbers that are made out of alien material that I am pretty sure was developed by NASA.  Those babies could squeeze a MAC Truck into a Neon.  Yea that. 
It's so weird, because I look EXACTLY like her when I put it on...

Got my hair did -actually by one of the bartenders of the night.   She is a stylist also so she had me looking pretty fly for a white chick.  We sat up in my room, as she twisted and curled my fro, she also whipped me up a COSMO. 

We chatted and I told her Hottie McHotAss was coming and mixed me up some more liquid courage in the beauty that is the COSMO.  This continued down stairs as we anxiously awaited his arrival. 




….into my belly….yum yum yum….

At some point I guess I needed to use the restroom, and since there is one located in my bedroom, which remember is the old “maid’s quarters”, I ran upstairs. 

That’s it.

That’s all I remember.

 Apparently, so I am told, I was on the toilet for quite some time.  Either I am an excellent drunk, or my friends really suck because they tell me they came up and chatted with me numerous times, while my big white naked ass was sitting on the toilet.  This, naturally, did not alarm them.  I am assuming they thought I was just taking a massive shit?

(But seriously you guys? You leave me there?   I had plans.  I was gonna bang HotAss.  I was gonna get over Shamus.  No, Really. It’s cool that you left me on the toilet and allowed me to have random conversations with myself.  That’s awesome.  NBD, assholes.  NO.  BIG.  DEAL. )

Moving on. 

Hours later I wake up.  I am spread eagle on top of my blankets. BUCK NAKED.  Wearing nothing but some bobby pins, in my now extremely mangled hair-do.
“Fuck!”   I attempt to lift my throbbing head off my pillow.  It seems my head has grown excessively  in the past few hours and I am unable to muster the strength required to lift it.
Hmmmm? Where the hell are my clothes? Who Cares!
 Holy shit, Where’s HotAss? DAMN IT!  I missed my opportunity to woo him with my slurred speech and Cosmo breath.  “Maybe next year”, I think to myself.


Oh My God!  I begin to pray.
“Dear God,
                I am well aware that I was/am intoxicated, probably to the point of near death.  But Lord, I am gonna open my cell phone and shine the light towards my chair.  PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GOD, let everyone at this lovely Christmas Celebration of the birth of your ONLY son who lived and died for our sins, please tell me that they have ALL forgotten their coats!”

Here goes nothing.
 FUCK !!
Not. One.  Single. coat!  AHHHHHHHHHHH!  My whole family, every friend/enemy, priests, nuns, Doctors, Lawyers, randies, and of course my Hottie McHotAss  had their coats in my room. 
The sweats begin.  Mortified, I try to fall back asleep.  I can’t. Call me crazy, but I can’t seem to get over the fact that everyone I know, literally everyone I know, has just had a lovely surprise when attempting to retrieve their jacket:
my ponani.
my sweater kittens. 
 my goodies.
my milkshake that does not bring all the boys to the yard.

My room was the coatroom that year.  That was the last year anyone brought coats. 

** I decided to tell you a funny story today.  I am trying to get myself back on the 30 day thing.  I'll do it.  I promise.  Don't hate me.  But I need some time off from soul searching so I tried to think of one of the dumbest thing I have ever done, besides bang a married dude for 10 years and allow him to mind fuck me and destroy my life, ahem. I'm better.  Deep breaths. 

In with Jesus....Out with Satan.  (That one's for you Fe! xoxoxo)

Keep breathing. 

Friday, February 25, 2011

With you I knew God's face was handsome...

I just can't today.  I can't make feelings into thoughts and then into words.  That makes them too real and I can't today.  I can't stomach all of that. 

Today is worse than yesterday.  But maybe tomorrow will be better.  Or maybe the next day. 

But I was sadly mistaken.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Someday you're going to get hungry & eat all of the words you just said.

He was shivering when I got here; coiled up in a ball like a curly fry.  Mixtures of white and brown and maybe a little black decorated his body.  He was covered in snow and I wondered why he was there.  He didn't seem mean or anything, just sad.  

I settled into my desk chair and into the warmth inside and he crossed my mind again.  I wondered if he was still here.  I opened the back door and he lifted his head and caught me checking.  Embarrassed, I shut the door quickly and returned to the computer.  Only minutes later, he consumed my thoughts again.  Why is he alone out there? In the cold.  I wonder if he's hungry.  Curiosity consumed me, and I went to check again.  This time he met my stare with animosity and aggression. 

“Shit” I thought.  He is not happy.  I wonder if he’ll come after me?  Yet he didn’t move.  Just snarled at me from the gazebo. 

It's not uncommon to see dogs here.  But typically not alone, sleeping in the gazebo.  It's more likely to find a homeless man named Tommy in there- Tommy who smells of stale beer and kindness. 

But today, there was a dog & he was scared. 

The officer arrived, mace in hand, and slowly approached the gazebo; insisting that I stand back.  The dog barked and growled and snared but he would not leave that gazebo.  It baffled me, until I saw the faint worn red leash that was attached to the bench. 

Sickened, I ran back inside.

 Someone tied this dog to our gazebo and left it here all night long in subzero temps.  Irate, I rummaged through my desk looking for snacks or anything even remotely edible. Minutes felt like seconds, as I was sure he would lunch at the Officer and get maced.  I did not want that to happen. 

Chip Nuts! I have Chip nuts! I remembered.  I grabbed a bag as fast as I could.  From about 3 feet away he growled as I tossed a handful in his direction.  Most of them scattering on the frozen ground, he inhaled them.  He hadn’t eaten in a while.  Probably a long while. 

I took a step closer as I tossed another handful and repeated this until I was in arms length.  The Officer insisted I not put my hand out. 

“You just hold your mace.  I got this”. 

I put a few in the palm of my hand, half wondering if that was the last time I’d see it unharmed, and half not caring either way.  We made eye contact.  I saw pain and rejection in his eyes. He saw the same in mine.  He began to eat from my hand as he lowered his head in silent understanding. 

Slowly, I made my way for his collar and untied the leash.  His tail perked up and he began to wag and drool and play like a puppy.  This once ferocious beast became my friend instantly. 

A part of my heart ached as I lead him to the cop car.  I knew the dog warden would be picking him up soon.  I wondered his name and who brought him there and left him.  I decided if I ever find out I will tie said person to the gazebo for at least 24 hours.  And throw Chip Nuts- just out of his/her reach.  I am angry with people and humanity today. 

Should I take him? I considered.  I have cats. What if he hates cats? Shit.  I don’t know enough about him and I saw firsthand what he can be like when he’s agitated. 

I can’t take him. 

A part of my heart broke when he pulled away in the red truck.  I wondered what would happen to him.  I blocked out the reality of what would happen.  I choked back tears.

He was abandon and alone, stuck in a gazebo, people passing him by, and not even stopping to see if he was ok.  He was like me. 

I decided I want to rescue a dog.  I want to rescue something alone and abandoned.  I want he or she to know someone does care and someone does understand. 

I think I’ll rescue a dog. 

Of course you can....

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Day Thirteen -What kind of heart doesn't look back?

I think today I might be ok.  I think today I won't be so sad.  And today, I think there is a faint light at the end of this tunnel.  I woke up early, which rarely happens.  And I think I might be ok. 

Today is family fun day-which usually turns into family fight night.  There are so many of us.  I am the oldest of 5 children who have now become adults with a variety of personalities and ticks.  We are very close, but you know how that is, each of our own needs, wants, desires- add my hilarity, my Sister1's beauty, my Brother's sarcasm, my Sister 2's anger, and Sister 3's airheaded-ness- typically makes for a very interesting evening.  Here's to hoping my brother doesn't call me a lesbian tonight for never bringing a date and my mother doesn’t get mad at me for wanting to go to the farthest snack stand at the hockey arena. 

The past few weeks it has been very hard for me to not only verbalize what I am feeling but to rationalize it as well.  I have these waves of emotion and most of the time I am almost embarrassed by them and refuse to reach out to everyone.  Being the oldest child, I have spent most of my life "having it together".  I am the goal setter.  The accomplisher.  I am the smart one and the nurturing one.  The second mom & the trusted confidant.  This role makes it hard for me to ask for help or admit defeat.  My mind goes a hundred miles a minute and I can't seem to lasso all of these thoughts into sentences.  I kept thinking- I'll write tomorrow.  I'll fill them in. I have so much to tell you, but so little energy to do so.

I started countless posts in my head over the past sleepless nights.  I keep thinking that today will be the day that I can come up with something to say.  The truth is I don’t know what to say.  This is almost worse than when everything was “going” on.  It’s the aftermath, where glances speak volumes, and whispers are heard loud. It’s when you are supposed to be fine, but you’re not.  When you’re friends don’t know what to say anymore and are quite frankly sick of hearing about it.  The real struggle is now.  The true test is trying to get to know myself.  Again- or maybe for the first time in my life. 

I listen to music.  A lot. But I really listen to lyrics.  Lyrics say things that I can't.  They felt what I feel but seem to be far more talented in describing exactly what I am thinking.  I find peace in music.

I honestly don't think I can chose just one artist.  Lately Sara Bareilles has consumed my vehicle.  Fiona Apple &  Ani DiFranco are for my "Angry Days".  "What Do You Want?" by  Jerrod Niemann has been on repeat.  Jason Mraz visits my ear drums while I'm cleaning and remembering better days.  Each one of them, from my Ganagster Rap friends like Biggie to my instrumental Jim Brickman moments, they all represent a mood, a feeling, a time in my life where I needed them.  I thank them all.  & I thank all of you.

I think today I might be ok.  I think today I won't be so sad.  And today, I think there is a faint light at the end of this tunnel.  I woke up early, which rarely happens.  And I think I might be ok.

Out of breath I am left..hoping someday...I'll breath again. 


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Day Twelve- I'm well versed in how I might be cursed. I don't need it articulated.

He's tall. Over 6 foot, I'd say.  I guess you could say thin, but not creepy "Ichabod Crane" thin.   Sometimes when he stands akwardly, I can see the beginnings of a beer gut.  It makes me smile.  And when I face him I almost feel petite.  That's an odd feeling for me. I am always as tall, if not taller, than most men I know, but I like being shorter than him. 

He LOVES hunting and some racing derby shit where I think they crash into each other on purpose? IDK.  He thinks jeans & a t-shirt is acceptable attire at all times and the words "business casual" are not even remotely in his vocabulary.  He drives a big ol' truck, has a brown lab named...wait for it.... "Brownie", & not one decoration on the walls in his house.  And he wouldn't have it any other way.  His Christmas tree is still up, possibly from the year before last, because he "likes the way it looks".  Besides the fact that he can cook & clean, he is completely opposite of me. But somehow, some way, our friendship works. 

He was the first person I showed the first letter to.  I drove immediately to where he was.  There is comfort in him that I can't find elsewhere.  I have known him since freshman year in high school, but we weren't really close friends or anything.  I was in my own world most of the time, far to busy writing poems to attend parties. (lame) He eventually married Rose's cousin, with whom he has a child.  He also eventually divorced her. 

None of that is important though.  We have become close friends in the past few months.  Even before the shit show that is Shamus.  One time I was bartending, and I heard my sister ask him why he doesn't date me.  I heard him tell her because I "mess with Shamus" and he doesn't need that.  It made me mad.  "You don't know anything about me so shut your mouth." I said.  I was irked.  The nerve!  He doesn't know shit about me, I thought. UGH. Everyone THINKS they know!

The truth is he did know. 

Before I ever even admitted it.   
He knew women like me- ones that love the wrong man & allow defeat. 

There were many moments when comments were made or inuendos made me wonder if he had any interest at all.  I didn't want to hurt him.  I didn't want him to be succumbed to Shamus & his games.  I didn't want to let him down.  I spent months laughing at his jokes-because they are funny- and taking his "dinner & movie" invites as nothing short of a "grain of salt".  I thanked God every night for him.  He lives around the block, you see and has become my proverbial blankie, keeping me calm and warm and of course helping me sleep at night. 
 He brings me down a notch-sometimes when I believe I least deserve it or need it- however, he grounds me.  Something about the way he talks back to me is refreshing. 

Last Thursday via text:

Me: I'm starting to get kinda sad about Valentines Day.  It's so stupid but it still makes me sad.

Him: Fool, It's THURSDAY.

Me: Yea, I know.  But it's coming sooner than you think!


Yea. He won.

Last week I brought him to a benefit with me that Shamus's brother/sister-in-law were attending, as well as my parents.  I cannot tell you the last time I enjoyed myself like that.  I laughed.  I laughed hard and with intention.  I laughed a lot.  My father said to me the next day "How nice it was to see me laugh & how my eyes light up when I do.".  Then I got a call from Shamus's brother-basically stating the same thing.  I was convinced it was a conspiracy & they were all just trying to "urge" me to get over Shamus with him.  Nothing physical has happened between us, besides a hug, a much needed one at that. 

Last Friday, I met him for happy hour.  We had some drinks, and by "some" I mean most likely too many and a few shots.  After our little "Tour de Vodka", he got in my car announced loudly and bluntly- "I can't FUCK you."

Ummm, Excuse me?  Where did that come from?

Yea, I didn't know either.  I am not exactly sure at what point, during me being at his house every night crying over my married boyfriend of ten years and drinking enough wine to intoxicate a third world country, he assumed I wanted to fuck him.  Does he think that that would have made anything "better" or "less complicated"?  Of course I could have taken the easy way out and layed on the couch with him.  I certainly wouldn't mind feeling arms around me! I REFUSED to allow myself to make him a "quick fix".  I must look really hot with snot & mascara running down my face. Justsayin. 

Needless to say, I was VERY upset.  When we got to his house, while words were exchanged, I made him get out of the car.  I was crying.  Violently.  (One of my sexier moments, I'm sure.)  So now we are barely speaking.  I feel lost and saddened, yet, I am very stubborn.  I know I need to talk to him, I just don't "feel" like it.  Doesn't he know how emotionally exhausted I am! Helloooo! Of all people, he should be very well aware.  Is he going to be another Drew?

 I have been going over my thoughts and actions for the past few months. Did I do or say something to lead him on? Is he trying to convince himself HE doesn't want to fuck me? And wait a minute... why doesn't he? Am I not "fuckable"? Just because I didn't want anything more than friends shouldn't mean I'm not fuckable right? OMG.  I'm not fuckable.  FUCK. 

I often hear people talking about all of the things that I do for "ghetto" kids & how I am "sooo thoughtful" & such a "great person", and it makes me feel really good, but as I was thinking about this, I realalized no one has ever really "complimented" me on any of these things to my face.  That, of course, is NOT why I do any of it.  To receive is NOT my motivation in giving.  One time I heard my family talking about how there is "something different" about me- as opossed to my brother & sisters- in a good way (I think).  I have to wonder, why not say it to me? 

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Day Eleven- Cluster-F&*$ks & Compliments

   Sorry friends, I just cant't seem to catch up on my "real-life" responsibilities, thus allowing me to blog and do fun things like that.  Plus I feel so totally emotionally/physically exhausted, I can barely muster up the strength to get out of bed in the morning.  It's really ridiculous.  It seems like it's one thing after another.  Slowly but surely I'll be back.... just please be patient with me..... pretty please.  It was Valentine"s Day yesterday. So lay off me. 

I am going to "therpy" in an hour.  Which is always interesting.  I am just hoping I can make it through this "session" without totally breaking down.  It's almost laughable.  I'll let ya know.  And of course I have some other "entertaining" stories for ya.... after I get my head shrunk of course. 

Def my legs.  I get that a lot.  It makes me laugh.  But at least one part of me doesn't need improvement. smh. 

Friday, February 11, 2011


We ALL know the answer to that question.

"I just want the one word you refuse to say."


(Another update- the investigation is still "ongoing", which I am pretty sure they just say, especially to people like me that are up their asses every two minutes.  Of course, I think that I could solve this crime better & fatser.  It has taken more self control than I care to admit to let them do the job.  However, with many deep breaths followed by manic outbursts, we are all getting there slowly.

  I think you will be so proud to know that I handed in all of my phone/text/email records to the Chief yesterday.  I have simply had enough of everyone looking at me like I have 3 fuckin heads.  DONE. I offered to turn over my sexy-time box, assuring him that only my and Shamus's prints would be on the vibrators/condoms/etc./etc.  He swears that won't be necessary but I'd rather be safe than sorry. I am walked over and pushed and proded constantly.  It was only a matter of time before I couldn't take it anymore.  I feel very empowered and no matter what- I have nothing to hide.  Bring it Shamus.  I'm done crying over you now.  It's on M%&^r F%^*er!!!

*** Clearly this new computer doesn't have spell check or auto complete. I'm fucked.***

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Day Nine-Drifting Drew (I'm Back Bitches!)


~Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young.~

That was our favorite quote.  Drew and I.  We vowed to bridge that gap.  We vowed to be forever-friends.  Forever. 

The day I left for college, we got up extra early to have coffee together-something we had done daily in high school-of course during school when we weren't supossed to be leaving.  We did "best-friend" things.  We sang our favorite songs in my car really loud. We pigged out & watched movies.  We stayed out too late, drank too much, and laughed too loud.   We finished each others' sentences and could have an entire conversation without saying a word.   I was dating The One Who SHall Not Be Named.  But, Drew & I, we were always together.  Even when I was hundres of miles away, we talked on the phone, a lot.  My mother insisted he always "liked" me.  I thought she was crazy. 

Somehow time slipped through our fingers like fine sand.  Life went on, and our childish fantasies were replaced by real work and real life. Adult things ruin everything.  He had a serious girlfriend he lived with in NYC.  Shit just happened. 

Then one night he called.  She left him. We talked for hours.  I told him I'd be on the next flight out.  He didn't even know where he was going to stay, so that wouldn't be necessary he said.  He'd be home soon. We'd catch up.  & we did.  I felt young again & alive.  We hung out and talked til the sun came up.  The talks that are natural and unforced filled with tears and laughter.  The years inbetween were never mentioned.  It felt like they didn't exsist.  They didn't. 

He said he'd be back soon.  We promised to not let too much time pass again.  We kept that promise for a while.  But, life budged it fat ass in between again.  She really is a bitch. 

A couple months passed & I was working at one of our Summer Concerts.  I saw his parents. 

Fool: "Oh HEY!!! How are you! How's Drew??!! I feel so bad I haven't had a chance to call him."

Them: "He's home.  He'll be here soon."

Fool:"Oh wow that's weird.  I'm gonna kick his ass for not telling me he was coming home! Tell him I'm looking for him."

Needless to say, things were never the same.  He came with some horrible hippy chick with a long skirt & "Jesus" sandels that looked at me like I was "Corporate America" in human form.  We met up later and every time we even remotely tried to have a conversation, she grabbed him took him away.  Words were exchanged.  I had enough. 

SIDE NOTE: Girls-it IS possible to be friends w/ a male without thinking about fucking him every second of the day- so if your man has a friend who's a girl-try and give her the benefit of the doubt. AT least the first time you meet her.  You can hate her after that.  It's cool. Just be nice the first time. Come on.

He moved home almost a year ago.  The last time I ran into him he basically acted like we were never friends and kinda made me feel crazy because I was so excited to see him.  I was all "i-can't-wait-to-hang-out-immediately-and-catch-up-and-laugh-and-go-to-Walmart-and-push-all-the-Bouncing Tigers-and-run!!" and he was more "I'm-a-hippie-now-and-we-don't-even-know-each-other-anymore."


I miss him a lot.  Eveen though the way he has recently treated me has been horrid.  He was and always will be in my heart and my thoughts.  I could really use a friend like he was right about NOW.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Quick update

Sorry friends. More tragedy strikes.  My office was burglarized twice in the past 3 days.  They destroyed everything and stole my computer along with the chapters of my book, all documents related to work, and my sanity. 

I am not really sure what to think at this point but I know I am scared.  I will write as soon as I can.  But for now, I am on Rose's computer and can't get into details. 

I will fill you in as soon as I can. 


Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Day Eight- Hell

I won't even go there. You know. 
(if you don't know... start here.

I think Ani says it best.  This one goes out to you Shamus!

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Day Seven-Someone who has made your life worth living

The more and more I thought about this, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot single just one person out and say he or she was the sole purpose I am living my life. There are so many people who have passed through my life, whether it was for a day or for a lifetime.  Each one of them creating a little memory in my heart or a smile on my face, maybe even a tear in my eye. But every one, in some way or another, have brought something to my life that I will forever be grateful for.  

Obviously my  family (even though they drive me insane somedays)  and Rose & Fe for reasons only they know-well you know some of the reasons I guess. I won't bore you with a list of initials, but they know who they are.  

Perhaps now would be a good time to remind them how much they mean to me & why?