How my relationship grows

The husband and I dated for about a year before we lived together.  During that time, he was living in a fraternity house and I was living with my parents [long story as to why; let's just pretend I needed a cover story for being a super-secret agent].  We spent most of our weekends together at his frat house.  Where, I'd say, about 75% of his frat bros saw me naked.  Not a lot of door-knocking going on there.

Luckily, I'm not a super bashful person. In fact, I'm that woman you see in the locker room, really going to town drying herself off.  Sorry, but I have zero interest in damp underwear.

Anyway, this not about me being naked, nor is it about spending weekends in a frat house, nor is it about my life as a secret agent.  Although these would all be interesting posts, I'm sure.

Instead, this is about the first time I made dinner for my husband - then my boyfriend. Or lover.  Yeah, let's go with lover.  Boyfriend is so 9th grade.

I invited him over and asked him what he wanted.  He said he didn't care.

This, as you may imagine, pissed me off. 

Not care?  Not care what I was going to make for dinner?  Really, asshole?

So I kept asking what he wanted, and he kept saying he didn't care, that anything was fine, until finally, I slapped a can of black olives on the table and said, "Fine.  We're having olives for dinner.  I hope you're happy."

At which point he apologized for upsetting me, which I graciously accepted, and then I think we ordered carry-out.

Of course, I later learned that he is not a fan of olives.  So I'm not sure if his apology was heart-felt.

Which kind of pisses me off.  Again.

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Still sick, so I'm was happy to find this prompt - a memorable dinner.

Things to Worry About. Because You Seem A Little Too Calm.

I'm a giant ball of congestion and exhaustion and burning coughing, so I'm re-posting a sort of book review, because I love books. Also, because I might be delirious.

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So I finally finished re-reading Stephen King's It (because, oh, yeah, it's OVER 1,000 frickety fricking pages long. Dude. Seriously. An editor is not the enemy.) and I realized:

1. It's far easier to read 1,000 + pages of a horror novel than, say, 40+ pages of, oh, federal courts. And they take the same amount of time. Just saying.
   
2. The problem with reading Stephen King is that the most innocuous things take on evil overtones.
3. For example: That dark hallway you walk down to get to your bedroom? Don't look behind you because the monster is there.
1. It's o.k. to leave the light on in the hall.  Monsters are afraid of light.  Usually.
4. Also, the shadows in the garage when you go to get in your car? They could be monsters.
5. Ditto that weird noise from the basement.  DO NOT GO DOWN AND CHECK.  What's WRONG with you?  Have you never seen a horror movie or read a book? Let someone else go. Maybe call that neighbor you don't really like over, and ask him/her to check. You'll be doing everyone a favor - odds are, their family doesn't like them, either.
6. And, if, say, you are kind of warm (thank you, perimenopause) and you feel the need for cool air while you sleep, it is imperative that you turn the ceiling fan on instead of cracking open a window. Because, duh, open windows are how the monsters get in. Especially mist.  Or murderers.  Or vampires.
   
7. You can sleep with your bedside lamp on. It's o.k. I mean, you just fell asleep reading, right?
   
1. But when you get up to go to the bathroom and then come back in and think, "I'm a big girl, I don't need a nightlight," and turn it off? Get right into bed, because the monsters can be UNDER the bed, too, you know.  Or they'll take this as an opportunity to pop out of the closet.  You don't know - how long has it been since you've cleaned that thing out?  Generations of monsters could be living there.
8. Also, the plant that touches you when you get your mail out of the mailbox may be poisonous and may ensnare you with its tentacles.  Or it may just be a plant - but I wouldn't bet on it.  Wear long sleeves and gardening gloves when you get the mail, just in case.
9. Clowns can jump out at you from behind your shower curtain. It's best to check with, say, a Swiffer mop in your hand.  Or a knife.  Probably a knife.  But don't do it when you're on the toilet, because at that point, you're going to die, and that is NOT how you want to go out.  Instead of talking about what a great person you were, your funeral is going to be filled with people laughing about how you died on the shitter.
10. The person you are talking to while waiting to pick your kid up from practice is not going to try and eat your face. Maybe.  You should probably stand next to someone who looks more appetizing.

Have a good day!

MMMMWWWAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Stop moving my fucking cheese*

Surprise, I have control issues.

Usually these are confined to my own life [and, let's be honest, the husband and the girl, but I'm really, really working on that.  Especially for the girl.  The husband knew what he was getting into.], but occasionally this will spread to the world at large, where I need people to STOP FUCKING AROUND with stuff that I think is within my purview.  There's no hard and fast rule as to what I need to control, but here is something that people really, really need to leave the fuck alone:

Feta Cheese

This is appropriate - a simple slice of feta cheese.

Seriously.  Just stop it.

Yes, it's delicious, and yes it would, in theory, make everything better, but JUST STOP.  Stop adding it to all kinds of bullshit things.  YOU ARE RUINING FETA CHEESE.

Here are some things you CAN do with feta cheese:

• Eat it with bread
• Eat it with bread and kalamata olives
• Add it to select recipes, like Mediterranean Brown Rice Salad [recipe coming up for you, Simone], or spinach pie
• Maybe, if I'm feeling generous, add it to your pizza, but don't hold your breath, because it's probably not going to happen

Here is what you CANNOT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD do with feta cheese:

• Eat it with other kinds of olives
• Add it to pasta salad, or potato salad,  or mashed potatoes
• Make a watermelon and feta salad - I am barfing just thinking about this, sorry Greece
• Add it to your pizza - you know, just be on the safe side here, and don't do it

Feta is a sublime thing.  Stop fucking it up.  Stop making me hate you, world.

Anyway, here's the recipe:

Suniverse Approved Mediterranean Brown Rice Salad
I'm not including any measurements, because this is something you can make with as much or as little of an ingredient as you'd like.  Also, as you may be aware, I don't measure. My guesses are included in brackets.

Brown rice, cooked - this can be warm or cold, it's really good either way [Let's say 3 cups, cooked]
Feta cheese, crumbled [1/2 cup?]
Kalamata olives, chopped [1/2 cup?]
Spinach, julienned [1/2 cup?]
Red pepper, diced [1/2 cup?]
Red onion, diced [1/4 cup?]
Carrots, chopped [1/2 cup?]

Add cheese and vegetables to the rice, and mix together in a large bowl. Add vinaigrette [recipe follows] and stir to coat.  EAT EAT EAT.

Vinaigrette
Red wine vinegar [Balsamic is also good]
Olive oil
Spicy or Dijon mustard
Salt
Pepper
Garlic
Oregano [optional]
Honey

I really can't even give you guesses as to how much of each ingredient I use for the vinaigrette - it goes by feel and taste for me.  More oil than vinegar, start small on the spices, taste it as you go along.
Mix all of these ingredients together in a container and shake shake shake [your booty].  Adjust seasonings to your taste.

This salad is so very good - and it's even better as lunch the next day, once the flavors have married.
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*It should not surprise you to know that I've never actually read that book Who Moved My Cheese, because, seriously.

Well, it's a post, anyway.

I've spent about the past week being sick - a low grade flu which is morphing into a shitty chest cold as I sit here typing.

I hate being sick.  I really do.  I mean, I get that no one likes to be sick, but I feel like I fall behind in my life when I'm sick.  Plus, when I get sick, it seems like that's the only time I think about all the things I want to do - write, yard work, sex, etc. When I'm well?  My brain shuts down, and I can't remember stuff I want to do.  Well, except for the sex, of course.  Because I write that shit down in my date book. 

So I've spent quite a bit of time this past week lounging around, watching movies and tv shows [yes, I watched the entire 9th (NINTH) season of Scrubs on Netflix.  The ninth season.  The one where they rebooted and were at med school.  Do you want to know what happened?  Of course you don't, but I could tell you.  Because I stayed up until MIDNIGHT one night watching the episodes.  The shame stings less, somehow, when you share it.  That's why AA works, right?].

But the great thing about this past week has been the time I spent actually reading.

Now, I love me some Twitter and I love reading blogs, but I feel like I stopped reading books for a while.  And I love to read.  No.  I don't love to read - I NEED to read.  This, here, is my favorite quote about reading [and one of my favorite quotes ever]:

Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.
To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee.


I miss delving into a world so completely, something longer than 140 characters or a page on a computer.  Even though I've met so many cool people on the computer - AND I get to set up cool things with them.  Things which will be announced soon [DUH DUH DUH DUUUUHHHHH - foreshadowing.  Wait.  That sounds so sinister. What's a good way to announce awesome foreshadowing? Streamers and balloons?  My photoshop and computer skills are not up to that - hum something nicely to yourself, please.  Let's work together here.].

Anyway, I read two books over the weekend that were great - and I want you to read them, too.  Because my regular book club was reading Water for Elephants, which, no thank you [circus story? SNORE], so I missed my opportunity to discuss good books.  Which that was not, so I missed discussing any books.  Because I didn't read it and didn't end up going because of the aforementioned sickness.

The books I read were The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen and The Weight of Silence by Heather Gudenkauf.  Both were great.  Both were recommended by @FlyteAphrodite, who is a genius with this type of thing.

Now if you'll excuse me, the girl and I are going to watch Clueless.  It's fun and chock full of great quotes.  Also? PAUL RUDD:

Have you met Mr. Suniverse? I love him so very much.

The Week in Review AND THE BIG WINNER!!

BREAKING!!

SPECIAL REPORT!!!

BIGGEST NEWS EVER!!

Without further ado, we bring you the winner of this fine piece of craftsmanship

Awesome, right? And it'll be done by the end of the day.

Comment #22 -

That's right, Poppy. YOU WIN!  PRIZE! PRESENT! BITE ME! Or email or DM me and I'll send you this lovely bit of fun.

I can't tell you how happy I was that you all wanted a piece of me.  Or my . . . ahem . . . "art".  So thrilled that you think this is cool.  And that there is interest in an Etsy shop.  Which I think is next on my list of fun things to do - balance, baby.  Balance.

Which brings me to my weekly wrap up:

School decisions/blog post.  We still haven't made a school decision for the girl.  This high school decision is hard enough - I don't look forward to the college admissions process.  And thank you all for your kind words about my post yesterday.  It helps to know that I'm not alone.

Elizabeth Taylor died. You know how I found out?  I was minding my own business, having slept in and missed the morning news [because I CAN], when I put on Regis & Kelly [yeah, I know, but we get like 5 channels and I wasn't feeling well, so cut me some slack.  I can only watch weird white guys doing travel shows on PBS for so long.] and there was a BREAKING STORY! SPECIAL REPORT!! And I immediately started thinking Giant radiation tornado in Japan?  Another earthquake?  Qaddafi's dead?  WHAT?  Oh, hi Robin Roberts - so Elizabeth Taylor died.  Um.  Yeah.  BREAKING NEWS FOR SURE!

Chris Brown loses his shit at Good Morning America.  And speaking of Robin Roberts, how come in all the press on this story, no one has mentioned that a guy who abused [Past tense? Cured? Probably not.] a woman and had to take a year long anger management course and got some bullshit certificate saying he passed the course, THAT GUY could not control his anger when he perceived a woman had disrespected him.  Fucking jackass. 

Pole Dancing for Jesus. I know.  I can't believe I didn't think of this first.  Who WOULDN'T want to show their love for their god by getting on the pole?  Fucking Texas.


Google library.  Google wants to build the world's largest digital library.  Sure, I can get behind that.  Anything so that people have access to books and knowledge.  What I can't get behind is the fact that Google wants to shaft the authors.  So a judge rejected the settlement.  If they need a lawyer, I know someone I can recommend.  HINT.

AT&T wants to buy T-Mobile. Yeah.  That won't suck for EVERYONE.  I've had T-Mobile as a carrier, and was very pleased with the service, especially the fact that I could actually make and receive calls.  And if I ever had an issue?  The customer service people were as nice as those at Apple.  I've got AT&T now, because of my iPhone, and holy fuck, it sucks.  Here's how bad it sucks: when the girl dislocated her knee for the third time, I missed FIVE phone calls from the husband telling me about it.  FIVE FUCKING PHONE CALLS ABOUT MY KID'S WELL-BEING. And it's not like I was off in the wilderness.  I was at work, where I COULD GET PHONE CALLS. Thanks, AT&T.  Awesome.  Yeah, they heard about that, for sure. Oh, and the fact that we'll be stuck with 2 monoliths "competing" against each other?  HAHAHAHA.  That's what the market wants, right? HOORAY FOR CAPITALISM!

Well, that's what's happened this week.  I also ended up freaking out because my sister had the flu and I ended up with a very mild case, but then she said her glands swelled up like balloons and I spent the night losing my shit, thinking my glands were swelling to giant watermelon size. The husband was out of state.  My parents were out of the country.  I was out of my mind. AWESOME.

Have a great weekend. XO!

Epiphany, Smack in the Face, It's All the Same, Right?

I had an epiphany the other night.

Is it still an epiphany if you realize something horrible about yourself?  Or is that saved only for delightful revelations?

My realization was that I am desperately, unbelievably unhappy.  With myself.

This hadn't struck me because I am generally very, very good at keeping myself very, very busy.  

This goes back to the time when I was severely depressed - mired in pre- and post-natal depression so immense that the only reason I am leaning toward there being a god is that I'm here now writing this.  It was really that bad.

A part of that depression was my inability to do anything [go get coffee, make dinner, brush my teeth] without it becoming a near-insurmountable task.  The very idea of a shower - turning on the water, getting it the right temperature, making sure I had a washcloth, pulling the shower curtain back and what IS the optimal way to get into the tub and should I hang my nightgown or is it dirty and does it need to be washed and if I do toss it in the hamper, do I have another one to put on and oh, god, is there soap in the tub? all before I even had to deal with the task of actually bathing myself - was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting.  I couldn't do it some days.  It was too much.  

And so now a trigger that brings that awful, helpless, floating feeling coming back is when I find myself with nothing to do - when there is no structure.  And as my first week off wound to a close, I had no structure.  I had no job with a 1.5 hour daily commute and a 55 hour work week taking up vast quantities of my time.  I had no real volunteer activities to take up my evenings.  I had no errands that I had to fit in when I could. I had vast, empty quantities of time.

And what I realize was that all the complaining I had been doing about every activity I had was not because I had no time and was frantic and trying to do everything all at once. 

No.

It was because I was desperately, miserably unhappy doing any and all of those things.  I went into EVERYTHING with an attitude of “Oh, FUCK YOU, this blows and I can’t believe I have to waste my time on this bullshit stuff.”  I mean, just a constant litany of not wanting to do anything or be anywhere because it sucked.

And then, as we were leaving a wedding and my daughter said, “I’m glad you had fun, even though you didn’t want to go,” I realized I’ve been doing that even with things I’d once enjoyed, where I once thought I’d have fun.

Book club?  Cannot stop bitching about how much I hate it.  Then I go, and while it’s not vodka exciting, it’s not bad.  It’s actually o.k.

PTSA stuff?  Really, really, REALLY cannot stop talking about how everyone sucks and I hate it and it’s all so much fucking crap, but I have come to realize, as I go to meetings and events, it’s not awful.  I see people I haven’t talked to in a while, and it’s o.k.  Sure, a lot of the people still suck and don’t do their jobs, but my reaction to it is out of proportion with how bad it actually is. 

The wedding?  Oh, I’m ashamed at how mean-spirited I was in my heart about this. Really, just evil.  And then we went and at first, like always, I was prickly and quick to find offense and stupidity [because really, a white trash queen accosted me first thing and I was thisclose to just leaving], and then I just let go and it was . . . o.k.  It was fine.  It was fun.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I wondered, as we drove home and I mulled over what the girl said.  And I realized the following things:

I’m not exercising

I’m not reading

I’m not playing my flute or cross-stitching or writing or drawing or knitting or taking photos or making plans with friends or . . .

I’m not doing anything.  And when I thought, Oh, I should start playing my flute again, my immediate reaction wasn’t, Yes, I should, how fun, instead it was, Ugh, I have to clean my flute and find music and – and then it hit me.  I stopped doing things I like. 

So I took a tentative baby step, and did something I do like.  I made that cross-stitch, and even though it had been so long since I’d done any cross-stitching, and it wasn’t centered on the material and I realized half way through that brighter, more vibrant colors would make a funnier contrast to those great words, it was nice to do that.  It felt good to just do that one small thing.  And then you all liked it so much that I wanted to make another one.  To give away to one of you [still time to enter until 6PM EST tonight!]

So that’s what my time is going to be like.  Doing one small thing that I like, so that I can stop being so angry about everything else in my life. 

I need balance.  That is not something I've ever been very good at, but I'm going to try.

Just Like Martha Stewart Would Make, Were She to Sully Herself By Using Condensed Soup

The other day, I was in no mood to cook, but I knew we needed [o.k., I needed] to eat otherwise someone [o.k., me] would get really, really hangry.

Everything was frozen or needed a ton of prep, and I was not having it.

So, instead, I plopped some frozen chicken in the crockpot and went about my day.  It turned out pretty good - so next time you are just at the limit of thinking about dinner, here's a good plan.

World's Laziest Chicken
Ingredients

• ~ 3lbs. Boneless, skinless chicken pieces [I used a package of breasts and a package of thighs.  You know, to mix it up.]
• 1 can Cream of Whatever soup [I happened to have mushroom, so I used that.  I think chicken or celery or onion would be delicious.]
• 1/2 can broth or water
• Salt
• Pepper
• Garlic
• Spinach [I had a ton of baby spinach I needed to use up, but I'm sure frozen or regular would be fine.]

Directions

1. Find your crock pot.  Make sure it works.
2. Take the chicken out of the package & rinse it off.  Sure, you can not rinse it, but that's disgusting.  Also, you may want to use thawed chicken, so you aren't running a frozen blob of meat counter chicken under warm water, hacking at it with a very, very sharp knife, trying to get the last bit of paper/wax paper out from the crevice it's frozen into, spewing watery chicken bits all over the sink, your clothes, the crockpot, and the formerly clean wok in the dishdrainer, before giving it up as a bad job, calling your kid over to find a big bowl to dump the frozen chicken blob into before moving on to the nicely packaged Amish chicken parts that are placed lovingly and evenly on the chicken maxi-pad that is still frozen to the chicken, meaning you're going to have to fish out that really, really sharp knife from underneath the random dirty dishes in the sink and then pry off the maxi-pad, before rinsing everything off.  Again. 
3. Lay the chicken pieces in the crock pot.
4. Wash your hands and disinfect every part of your kitchen.  You may want to change your shirt and wash your face, too.  I'm just saying.
5. Now, at this point, you can be fancy and mix the condensed soup, broth and seasonings together in another bowl.  Or you can do what I did, which was to dump all of them on the frozen pieces of chicken and kind of stir them around a bit before shaking my head in disgust and irritation and tossing the spoon in the sink.
6. Put the lid on the crock pot, turn it on.  I started kind of late, and didn't want to eat raw chicken, so I cranked the crock pot up to high for about 2 hours before putting it on low and cooking it for another 3 hours.  If you're starting this early with frozen chicken, I'd say cook on low for about 6 hours or so.  If you're using thawed chicken, probably 4 - 4 1/2 hours on low is good.
7. About 10 minutes before the end of cooking time, I added all the spinach and let it wilt, stirring it a bit.

I served this with farfalle noodles and shredded parmesan, but rice would probably be really good, too.  I also thickened the gravy a bit with cornstarch & water because, well, I like thick gravy.  I'm kind of a whore that way.

Makes dinner for 3 + lunch for 3 - and it's even better the second day.

No flash on my iPhone, so the photo is a bit dark. Also, it doesn't look like vomit, at all.  I swear.

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Don't forget - my AWESOME CROSS STITCH GIVEAWAY is going on now.  You know you want it - go enter!

Decisions, Decisions

As I have mentioned before, we don't like the girl very much and are intent on sending her away to boarding school so that we don't have to parent anymore.

We've narrowed it down to two schools.

One is 45 minutes away.

The other is 9.5 hours away.

Both are excellent schools.  Both would be good for her.  Either will be lucky to have her.

I keep vacillating, as does the girl, about which school would be the better fit.

The husband doesn't really vacillate.  He's made his decision.

It's the school 9.5 hours away.

And that's where I'm leaning.

And that's where the girl is leaning.

Except for at night, or first thing in the morning, when I think, ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?  SHE'S JUST A BABY! SHE NEEDS TO STAY AT HOME, WITH HER MOMMY.

At that point, I start thinking about homeschooling.

When did making a positive decision for my child's future become so fucking hard?  Why doesn't this get any easier?

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On the horns of a dilemma? Do something easy: Enter my giveaway - you know you need a snarky cross stitch as the finishing touch for decorating your home.  Or office.  Or car.  Whatever.  I'm easy.

You Want It? You Got It!

Given how much joy and pleasure my cross stitching brings to the world, it does seem spiteful to keep it from everyone, so I'm creating a piece just for [one of] you:

Ah, the gentle, ladylike arts. 

Nice, right?  Mean, but not profane, so you can keep it up while the in-laws or Child Protective Services are visiting.  When it's finished, this will look elegant in an old-fashioned frame, or even just stapled to your jacket, giving everyone fair warning that you are NOT to be trifled with.

The Details:

• I'm giving away this cross stitch in a random drawing to be held on Friday morning, March 25, 2011. And yes, it will be finished by then.  Promise.  It'll look amazing.  I'll update with a photo as I finish it.
• To enter, leave a comment on this post anytime between now and Thursday, March 24, 2011, at, say, 6:00pm EST.  
• You get an extra entry for tweeting about this - just leave another comment saying you did so.  And if you pimp the giveaway somehow, you get lots of karmic bonus points, and another entry.  Plus, if this is a resounding success, I'll probably do another giveaway or open an Etsy shop and make tens of dollars.
• I'll announce the winner on Friday morning, and you can then email me/DM me your info.
• I'll mail out the cross stitch as soon as I get your info, which I will only share with my favorite telemarketers/Jehova's Witnesses.  They're really, really nice.

I ordered the cross stitch pattern here, at Subversive Cross Stitch, who know absolutely nothing about me or my blog and are in no way connected with this giveaway.  I did order something once and the order got messed up and Julie promptly fixed it, so I'm going to say that she's pretty fucking awesome.

Now, leave a comment to enter!  [And it may help your chances if you leave a comment that extols my virtues. You never know.  It may.]

The Week That Was

It's that time of the week again, that time where I blast you with my knowledge, but first, some housekeeping:

1.  The ever delightful, ever wonderful, ever oh, my god, what would I do without her? Andygirl has graciously made me AND YOU a badge for the Union of Disgruntled Over-Educated Underemployed Bitches. 

To say I love this woman is like saying Joanie loves Chachi - it's true, true love.  She is now our Union Steward, and as such, is in charge of the choicest assignments - things like deciding the pecking order for getting donuts and also what our official Union Drink is. If you want a badge, and why the fuck wouldn't you?, get one over there --------->  [If it doesn't work, that's totally my fault.  I'm technically incompetent.]

2.  I'm going to do a giveaway of a cross-stitch.  I'll do the cross-stitch this weekend and post the giveaway next week, so keep your eyes peeled for it.  It's going to be a surprise, but trust me, you'll love it like a motherfucker. [I hadn't used that word in a while and it was time.]

And now, on to the news:

Japan.  There is just nothing to say here, but to continue to hope that complete nuclear meltdown doesn't happen and that the earthquake and tsunami survivors are taken care of as quickly and expeditiously as possible.  Give, if you haven't, if you can. 
 
Fucking John Boehner.  Are you kidding me, you asshole?  With every goddamn thing that's going on in the world, you decide that removing the Capitol dining room's ecologically and environmentally sound disposable servingware that could be composted and returning to styrofoam was of paramount importance and needed to be done NOW because there wasn't any worthwhile monetary savings in being good to the earth.  Dude, McDonald's doesn't even use styrofoam anymore.  When a megalithic corporation stops doing something bad for the environment, you'd better believe there's cost savings there somewhere. You motherfucking tool.

The continued assault on the middle class [what's left of it]. The legislature in Ohio is also working to take away rights from public sector employees.  This quote, I think, sums up EVERYTHING there is to say about which side of this argument you should be on:


“What are they wanting?” she said of the bill. “For everyone to be making minimum wage?”

 Yes.  I think that's EXACTLY what they want.  Assholes.  I get sick just thinking about this.

Libya, still.  I continue to be impressed by the tenacity of the people of Libya fighting for their freedom from tyranny.  The lopsidedness of the match up - with Qaddafi's nearly unmatched arsenal - has not given them pause.  Good for them.  But seriously, get on that no-fly zone, you hand-wringers at the UN.


Libraries and e-books.  Publishers are now limiting the number of times an e-book can be lent out by a library.  Previously, it was unlimited.  Now?  Suck it, library patron #27, you lose unless the library wants to re-purchase the book.  I get that publishing companies are hurting - everyone is hurting, except CEOs [how do I get that fucking job?] - but to punish your customers?  When did that become good for business?


Sarah Palin, Loser. Evidently even the Republicans can't stand her anymore.  I think conservatives are just slow learners.  Really, really, painfully slow learners.

So that's what's been going on this week.  Now you're informed and can sound super smart at all the cocktail parties you go to this weekend.  I live to serve.

Isn't it Romantic?

This morning I stepped on the husband's punchline [no, that is not a euphemism, although I kind of would like it to be].

The joke doesn't matter [but in the interest of completion, he was talking about how it's weird that the girl is so interested in karate, since I'm non-violent and he's Mr. All American Sports guy, and I said, before he could, that it's her form of rebellion and better this than her being a Republican].

What does matter is that the husband said we'd been together for too long, since we were now finishing each other's jokes.

Yeah, but you could see that one coming a mile away.

It got me thinking, though, about how long we have been together [married 15 years next month, and together 4 years before that] and about how we met.

Have I told you this story before?  Eh, here it is again anyway:

Many, many years ago - o.k., 19 - I was living out of state and came back for a friend's wedding.  I stayed with my family and also in College Town.  While at my family's house, I got a phone call from a guy I had dated off and on about a year before, who told me that everyone was getting together to see a band we all liked at a dive-y bar in College Town.  So I went out to the bar to meet up with everyone [which, it turned out, the guy had set up so I'd go] and see the band.

And did I mention it was Dollar Pitcher Night?  Yes.  It was.

Well, the husband was also at the bar with a group of friends, some of whom we knew.  But he wasn't there necessarily to see the band.  Mostly he was there because it was Dollar Pitcher Night.

Now, I want to give you a visual here:

Me:  Shoulder length, crazy curly hair. Hadn't shaved my armpits or legs in about 4 years.  Tattoo on my bicep.  Nose ring. Black eyeliner.  Red lipstick. Wearing a black tank top and black skirt.  Smoking hot.

Husband: Backwards baseball cap.  Sports t-shirt.  Jeans.  Also smoking hot.

I saw the husband and it was all over for that other poor bastard.  I even remember asking a friend what she thought of the husband, which is not something I ever did.

Well, drinks were had, and we tried to talk, but neither of us could hear the other person.  Yet somehow, we knew we were right for each other.  Maybe it was because we both smoked.  Maybe it was because we couldn't hear each other. Probably it was because we were drunk.

The husband asked me to go home with him, and I did [PSA DO AS I SAY AND NOT AS I DO.  Also, this was a long time ago, you know, back in the dark ages, when it was safe to go home with someone whose name you couldn't quite hear.].  So we left the bar and headed toward . . .

A frat house.

I had left the bar with a frat boy.

It's still amazing to me that I didn't turn and run, but I had to pee and he had more beer, so I went.

And we lived happily ever after.

And the Winner is . . .

Honestly, I can't tell you how happy these photos have made me.  There's been constant giggling.

The runners up:



By LateEnough



By nonspleen

And the winner:

Oh, my WORD - look at that face! Look at that HAIR!

Thanks so much for entering.

The next contest will be the first week in May with the theme: SPRINGTIME!

Because those fucking April showers are going to be good for something.

Finally, the finalists!

Hello, friends.  We asked, you answered, and here we go: 

The finalists from this month's Raw Photos Contest - What Makes You Laugh? 

Evidently, you people have hilarity in your lives, and we are more than happy to join in.


By Late Enough


By nonspleen


By amydpp


By shesuggests


by lovelyleyphotography

These are amazing.  Andygirl and I will post the winner ON THURSDAY!!  Keep giggling until then.

Remember that one time when - Oooh! Look! A bird!

Last night I had horrific insomnia.

Hello, 2:30AM!
Ugh, 3:30 AM.
WTF, 4:30 AM?
No. Fucking. Way. 5:30 AM.

Yes, it sucked.  It sucked donkey balls.

Made me so very tired that I could hardly function, which wouldn't have been so bad except every once in a while I'd think I was o.k., and then I'd start doing something, like browning a roast to put in the oven, and then I'd go to the bathroom, and while I was peeing, I'd notice I need a bath mat and then think: I should run a load of laundry, so I'd head down to the laundry room and realize I had already run a load of laundry, so I'd switch loads and run the bath mats and then head upstairs and smell burning and think What the hell? and then realize I was burning my roast, so I'd drop my laundry basket and then look at the pan and realize it wasn't the roast, it was the seasonings, and maybe cajun roast would make a good meal?  Remember when that was all the rage? Mmmm . . . burnt food.

I'll let you know how it came out.

At that point, I ended up laying down because I was tired and BECAUSE I COULD.  I didn't sleep very well or for very long, because I'm not a napper - when the girl was born and they kept on with that bullshit about sleeping when the baby sleeps, I ended up reading the paper and then being INSANE with tiredness [also INSANE with the crazy] kind of like I am right now - but I did doze off finally, I think, because I also did the snort - guh - jerk around thing you do when you wake up.  So, I had been sleeping.  QED, bitches.  Q. E. Motherfucking. D.

Then the Jehova's Witnesses showed up - Remember how I had an aneurysm that one time and told them my name? - Now it's like we're BFFs, seriously, it's all, "Hey, Suniverse, how are you?  We haven't caught you in a while [caught in a RELIGIOUS TRAP], but it's good to see you and can I give you this pamphlet that has Good News?"  And it's two of the oldest women in history who are accosting me, so I can't be [that] rude, and I don't even know how they managed to get up the front porch steps so I want them to take a minute and catch their breath so that they can make it back down, so I just smile and say, "Sure, I'd love some Good News!" and take their magazine and then leave it laying around in the living room next to my BITCHfest book [which was prominently displayed on the front door table, so maybe that will curtail future visits] because I like the contrast.  Also, it freaks out the people who come over and don't know us that well.  Man, those visits are short.

Transitions

I tend not to transition very well.  I tend to jump into things and immerse myself completely.

Case in point:  I'm not doing this whole laid-off thing well.  I mean, besides worrying about money and needing to find a job, I'm not taking advantage of my enforced time off.

I just made an appointment to get my oil changed.  At 7:30am.  What the hell?  Where do I have to be?

So I need suggestions.  What am I supposed to be doing?  How do I take this down a notch?

What do people do when they aren't working besides look for work?  Before I had that job, I spent all my time looking for work, and it wasn't that healthy, because THERE ARE NO JOBS.  It's really, really hard to deal with that kind of rejection day in and day out.

I'd like to handle this episode of unemployment better.

What do you suggest?

PS - I'll definitely do a cross-stitch giveaway.  I'll come up with the parameters this week.  YAY!  A task!  But I will NOT schedule it for 7:30am.  I'm really regretting that right now.

We Now Return to Regularly Scheduled Programming

I ended up taking an unintended internet/twitter hiatus this weekend.  It was actually kind of nice. 

I went to a wedding. [More on this later.]

I watched movies [Blythe Spirit - not bad, I like Noel Coward; Arsenic and Old Lace - awesome, as usual; and The Killers - I love Chow Yun Fat, but this movie was kind of eh, and even though it was subtitled, the husband still had to have the volume turned up to "Hear the shooting."  Yes.  Really. EDITED TO ADD:  The husband has adamantly informed me that "The volume was on ten.  ON TEN."  Yes, and it was STILL SUBTITLED.  UPDATED: He also wanted to hear the death screams of the bad guys.].

I worked out, and even though the guys working out next to me had that musty sweat smell, no one struck up a conversation and I was able to read Bitchfest in peace.  And get angry.

I ran errands.

I made food [tacos & burritos; pasta salad with sauteed chicken; beef barley soup; cream cheese frosted chocolate chip brownies].

And I spent several hours creating this:

Not a great picture, but it's late and I think you get the idea.  The colors match my living room.  I can't wait to frame and hang it.

How was your weekend?

Weekly Round Up

I am nothing if not a woman who will beat a dead horse - particularly if that dead horse will give up a blog post.  Because you all enjoyed my delightful slant on the week's news, here's this week's version:

Peter King.  You are a fucking tool.  IRA supporter decides to hold hearings on the threat of home-grown Islamic terrorism?  Takes a thief to catch a thief?  Is that the deal? Jackass.

Wisconsin Republicans. You. Fucking. WANKERS. You should be writhing around in shame for your cowardice and selfishness and complete and total assholery.  Except looking at you, I don't think any one of you has a conscience and so you are all probably enjoying sipping baby-tear-martinis and eating unicorn steaks.

General Strike.  HELL. YES.  And I am not just saying that because I currently have some time on my hands.

Chuck Schumer.  Kick ass, baby.  Stand tall.  I am a firm believer that people simply need things explained to them so that they can understand them and see the light.  Busting the GOP party line about fiscal responsibility and deficit reduction wide open?  Brilliant.  Now, you other fucking wussy Dems, GET ON THAT MESSAGE.  Jesus.  It's exhausting being liberal.

International Women's Day.  I didn't do anything.  Partly because I'm not a joiner, or rah rah go vagina type person even though I am an ardent feminist [although YAY for vaginas, right?], but mainly because anytime I thought about celebrating the fact that I'm a woman or celebrating women in general, I would go on Twitter and see that women in Egypt who were trying to have a demonstration for International Women's Day were being harassed and grabbed.  In Tahrir Square, for fuck's sake.  Plus ca change, plus ca meme chose.

Charlie Sheen.  Fired?  Go to rehab.

Did I miss anything?

Oh, and while it may not be on any of the major networks, Andygirl and I are very eager to see what you've got for this month's Raw Photos Contest - What Makes You Laugh?  SHOW!

There's a Bright Side to EVERYTHING! Swear!

So on Tuesday night I got an email and phone call that my services were no longer needed at my job.

This was a temp job, so I knew [duh, because I have a dictionary AND google AND passed vocabulary class] that it wasn't a permanent thing.  BUT we were expecting another month, at least, of work, and then SHABAM! Not so much.

So I got . . . fired? Laid off? Technically furloughed, bud*?

I got jobless.

Which, I have to say, I am taking pretty well.  I mean, I haven't gone fetal.  I'm not laying around in my pajamas, eating peanut butter from the jar and watching the neighbors through the blinds.  Not yet, anyway.  [If this is your thing, I'm not judging.  I may, in fact, be a little jealous.]

Anyway, I've decided to come up with job ideas for me, particularly those that will be covered by my newly formed union, Union of Disgruntled Over-educated Underemployed Bitches.  [Your UDOUB (pronounced U DOWB, since you asked, Kathy) union cards are being created - actually! Does anyone have any technical skills to make a badge?  Because that badge would be motherfucking AWESOME.  Let me know.  I would heart you and make you union steward.]

So, finally, without much further ado [god, this is like a union meeting, isn't it?], here is my list of job ideas:

• Trendsetter/tastemaker. I can totally pretend that wearing chainmail scarves is the next cool thing.  And do it with a straight face.
• Popcorn tester. But not the gross kind, with cheese.  The good kind, with butter.  Or caramel.  Or chocolate.  But not plain, because I'm in a union for god's sake! I have rights!
• Senator.  I couldn't do any worse.  Plus, I actually LIKE to wear suits. It's as if I was born to do this. 
• Boss of you. Or boss of someone you think needs bossing. I am REALLY good at telling people what to do.  And getting on their cases until it gets done.
• Televangelist.  I am ready, willing and able to fleece people with platitudes.  But only really rich, corrupt people.  So maybe less of a televangelist and more of a life coach. 
• Color namer.  I could do this for Crayola, any paint company, car companies.  I'm really good.  Like this:  Magellan's Kiss.  Right? Huh? You KNOW it!  You can see that color now, can't you?  I'm gifted that way.

So as you can see, I've got lots of opportunities on the horizon.  Chime in if you have any ideas for me - I'm getting the resume ready!

------------------

* Do you know that line?  I will kiss you smack on the mouth if you do!

Not that I *Actually* Believe in That Type of Stuff

A few weeks ago, I was reading the paper and this article caught my eye:

A Tax on Witches? A Pox on the President!

I know, right?  How many kinds of awesome is THAT?

Basically, in Romania, being a witch meant you could make money and NOT pay taxes.  Until now, when the government decided, hey, you need to start paying up your fair share, like other self-employed people.  Because we need a cash flow.

Being a witch is a viable career in Romania - to an extent.  It's not something that's shunted aside as kid's stuff or relegated to Halloween or that pasty guy in grad school who decided to become a Wiccan because it was his best option for getting some.  In Romania, they don't fuck around with the hoodoo.  Not even a little.  This is a country with long ties to the other-world, from Dracula to Ceausescu, and witchcraft is taken very seriously.

A few weeks later, I read this article:

Romania - False Prophecy Penalty

Because now in addition to having to pay taxes, witches are being PENALIZED monetarily for false prophecies.

I have to say, I would not want to penalize a witch.  Because they have a lot of tricks up their sleeves [ha! Wait, not tricks.  Illusions, Michael.  Tricks are what whores do for money.  Or cocaine.*] and frankly, a pissed off witch is not someone I want on my case.  As a witch, I would only be thinking, "Having to pay taxes AND you're asking for a money-back guarantee?  Bitch, this isn't Home Depot. You can't ask for guarantees on the ephemeral like it's a backyard grill."

What?  You don't think witches talk like that?

Anyway, part of me is a big believer in this type of thing.  Superstition, I mean.  Generally, I am a very fact-based, reality-dwelling person.  I'm a pessimist, and I've been depressed, both of which are the type of person who has a clear view of reality. 

But there is a part of me that doesn't like to look out the window in the dark because of monsters and who will sometimes, after saying something complimentary about my child, ward off the Evil Eye by saying or thinking the counter-curse.  And I have a hard time sleeping after having watched a movie about monsters.  And I do, in fact, believe that some of the stuff on the X Files has happened.  I mean, please, you don't think our government has guys like Cigarette Smoking Man working for it?  Or vats of that black oily goo stopped up somewhere?

Please.  Don't be naive.

----------------

* That, of course, is from Arrested Development.  A lovely conversation between Michael and GOB.  God, I love that show.
----------------
Don't forget to submit your photos for this month's Raw Photos Contest - What Makes You Laugh?  Come on.  If you haven't submitted before, I think you need to do it this month.  We could all use a laugh.

It's in the details. Or maybe just right flat out there where I can't see it.

I've mentioned before how I have a tendency to not read a situation correctly [if you're not going to click through, it's about the time I missed the casual racism during a job interview] and so don't quite grasp what is going on until much later.

Something similar happened today.

I was reading Wonkette because it is AWESOME, and I ran across this article where Sarah Palin calls Kathy Griffin a "half-been bully" and I thought, well, that's weird, because while I'm not a fan of Kathy Lee Gifford, what with the incessant perkiness, I wouldn't call her a bully.



See what happened there?





I read Kathy Griffin and saw

I know, right? NOT Kathy Griffin.  But this is what was in my mind all day.

And I couldn't quite get my brain around this.  I mean, I'm not a big follower of either person [what? say it's not so!], but I was under the assumption that Kathy Lee Gifford and Sarah Palin were on the same page.  It was a bit of a head-scratcher, but I figured maybe Kathy Lee was wasted on the Today show and got a bit carried away and you know, mistakes are made. 

While I didn't spend my day dwelling on this conundrum, it did flit through my mind from time to time.

And then later, I was reading Jezebel and there was yet another link to this contretemps between Kathy Griffin and Sarah Palin which I again looked at because I thought maybe there would be more information on why the feud had started.  Had Sarah Palin insulted the Carnival Cruise Line?  Had Frank Gifford slept with Sarah Palin?  Had Kathy Lee decided to run for office or was she moving to FoxNews?  Did Cody and Bristol get in a fight?  WHO KNEW???

I read through the article again, and was a bit surprised that Kathy Lee Gifford was also feuding with Elizabeth Hasselback. Again, not a fan of either person OR either show, but she's the dumb conservative one on The View, right?  They're a match made in heaven, those two!

And then, after rereading the article again, and rereading the Wonkette article again, it FINALLY dawned on me that it wasn't Kathy Lee Gifford, but Kathy Griffin who was feuding with Sarah Palin.  Which makes a LOT more sense.

**************************
More clearly thought out:

New post up at Secret Society of List Addicts - I talk about being a grown-up.  You can, too!

ALSO, have I mentioned the whole RAW PHOTOS CONTEST?  Because seriously, enter this contest.  Show me What Makes You Laugh.  I really want to know.

Because it worked so well last time.

Evidently my inability to clearly articulate a recipe did not stop you from enjoying the granola bar recipe I posted.  In that same vein, and because I am making it right now [right now being this evening, while I'm writing this post [hooray for multi-tasking!], I pass along to you my super simple pasta recipe.

Easiest Pasta You'll Ever Make.  Really.

1 lb pasta [Any kind you want.  Spaghetti, angel hair, rigatoni, those cute bow-tie shaped ones.  Whatever you want.  Really.  I'm easy.]
Some Olive oil
Red Onion, sliced thin
Broccoli, chopped [A bag of frozen or a head of fresh or whatever you have.  I use the Costco bags of frozen organic broccoli, because they are SO EASY to use.  No chopping!  Just rip open the bag! Like Cheetos, but far less orange.]
Red Pepper, sliced
Kosher Salt
Black Pepper
Garlic Powder [Or you can chop up some garlic if you've got the time and inclination.  Don't judge me.]
Oregano/basil, whatever spice you like
Parmesan/Asiago/Mozzerella [I use a mix, because I am a cheese whore who loves her cheese.  You use whatever you like.  It's fine.]

Boil pasta.
While pasta is boiling, slice onion, broccoli, red pepper, garlic [if you're too good for the shaker, you pretentious bastard, you] and sautee in a bit of olive oil.  Season to taste.
Drain pasta and put it back into the pot.
Dump the vegetables into the pasta [that sounds gross, and it probably won't look so amazing as it's flopping from the pan to the pot, but trust me, dump is the correct word and dump is what you'll do.] and stir.
Add a bit of olive oil if it's too sticky and adjust seasonings to taste.
Toss with whatever cheese you like and serve.

IT IS SO DELICIOUS.  And it makes enough for 3 people for dinner plus lunches for the next day.  ECONOMIZING IS AWESOME.  SO ARE LEFTOVERS.

You're welcome.

******************

Want a recipe for fun [please kill me for punning]? Check out this month's RAW PHOTOS CONTEST!! The theme is What Makes You Laugh and I know you've got some good photos there, people.  If you haven't entered before, what are you waiting for?  COME ON! ENTER! It'll be a blast.

It's that time again!

 

Raw Photos Contest time!

Theme: What Makes You Laugh

What makes you laugh can be anything - but remember, we are looking at photo quality, so keep that in mind.

THE RULES (in case you're new or forgot or something):

1. You have to have taken the photo [duh, don't be a jerk and enter someone else's photo. NOT COOL.]
2. The photo has to be a raw photo. What does that mean? That means NO PHOTOSHOPPING. Mess with exposure and white balance on your camera, and you can crop the photo, but that's it.  That is all. NO messing around afterward, adding things, airbrushing things, changing colors or hues.  A RAW PHOTO only. That's what we're looking for. (Both digital and digital scans of film are okay)
3. You have one week to enter a photo. You can enter up to two [2] photos per contest.

Submission are now open! Submit here.

You have one week. Then we'll announce finalists and a winner. 

Because you would have asked me anyway

I tend to write more about myself and my crazy here than about anything else.  But I do have interests and opinions beyond worrying that I was allergic to the new pinconning cheese I picked up on the recommendation of my cheese lady [Of course I have a cheese lady. You don't have one? GET ONE!] to put in my mac & cheese and then not only not eating any of the mac & cheese, even though I forced myself to take a bite of the pinconning, which subsequently made me stand in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror, staring diligently at my face to make sure that I wasn't swelling from an allergic reaction but which only made me realize that my features are lopsided so maybe I'm not allergic, I'm just a Harlequin mask . . . I have no idea where I was going with this. 

I have opinions on stuff, and I'm sure you're interested, but I don't want to bore you/write overlong serious posts/think too much and make myself sad.  So instead, here are my quick opinions on current events:


Protests in Wisconsin [and all across the country]: Unions are what made this country great.  Stop fucking around with them. The only reason people get pissed off at the unions is because they want what the unions have.  And instead of going after it, they decide if they can't have it, NO ONE can.  Fuck.  I WISH I had a union.  Union of Disgruntled Over-educated Underemployed Bitches.  The UDOUB.  You're welcome to join. [Also, seriously? Stop hating on teachers.  That's just shameful.]


Threats by GOP to shutdown the government.  Listen, assholes, it didn't work in 1995 when that fuckhead Newt Gingrich tried it, it's not going to work now.  What?  Boehner wants extra days off or something?  Suck it, asshole. 

Libya. I will never cease to be amazed by the strength of character and fortitude shown by the people of Libya.  This holds true for those in Tunisia, Egypt, Bahrain, Iran, everywhere.  I am humbled to see that so many people - ordinary people - are putting their very lives at risk for the betterment of humanity.  I am ashamed to say that I won't go to a rally if it seems like it's going to be too hot or I'm going to have to stand around too long.  These people hearten me.


The unceasing idiocy of the misogynists in the anti-choice movement.  NOT. YOUR. BUSINESS.  Why do you hate women?  Why?  You know what?  Never mind, I don't care.  Just stay the fuck home.

Clarence Thomas and his punk ass wife.  Seriously.  Take more money from lobbyists and haters of the American people and continue to decide on cases that benefit those corporations and your wife and then you. 

Charlie Sheen.  I've actually got nothing here, because I haven't been following this.  He's having a complete breakdown, right?  Poor Martin Sheen. 

So that's what I've been thinking about this week.  I should have a show, you know?  Where I can spew what I'm thinking.  It would be awesome.  Oh, wait.  I have a blog and Twitter.  I guess that will do for now.  While I'm building my media empire.

Ideas. I've got lots.

• I mentioned before that I want to have you lovely people start watching the tv shows I watch so that we can discuss them.  My problem is that I don't watch them when they are on - I watch them at weird times via Hulu.  BUT! I want, very, very much, to watch and maybe live-tweet these shows with hilarious people [other than the husband - who would rather be killing people in Vice City - and the girl - who actually has a social life].  Would anyone be up for watching, say, Cougar Town [whenever the hell it comes back on] on say, Friday night [because I am old and lame and tired and generally am at home decompressing from a fantastically! fun! work week on Friday night]? We can maybe test run with a show that's actually on right now.  Any suggestions?
• Do you ever accidentally get up in people's personal space at, say, the grocery store, because you are suddenly very, very interested in the asparagus and need to now RIGHT NOW what it looks and feels like and then, after a few minutes, you realize you've wedged yourself into a spot right up against an older woman who was up until that moment minding her own business at the asparagus area?  Not that I would need them, but I kind of want to make up business-card-sized apology cards so that I could drop one in her cart.  They would say something like, "SO SORRY. I HAVE NO SOCIAL OR MEASURING SKILLS."  Is there a market for this?
• Is it wrong that I'm so proud of being the #3 result for this?  Because I am proud and there has to be a way to parlay this into a paying job. 

I thankfully didn't watch the Oscars and so missed that travesty.

• Do you think there's a market for being that person who will tell you when you have food on your face or in your teeth?  Or some other embarrassing thing going on with your person? I'm pretty good about doing that - there was an incident a lot of years ago in a public restroom when the husband and I were at a play and I had accidentally shoved the back of my skirt into my underwear and tights [I WAS SOBER AT THE TIME, THANK YOU VERY MUCH] and NO ONE TOLD ME.  Luckily, I hadn't left the bathroom before I found out, but seriously?  What the fuck?  How do you not tell someone about that?  Assholes.  I still hate all those fucking bitches.  Anyway, I think it would be handy to have that service available.

That's evidently all I have today.  

Parenting

Me:  Have you heard about these helicopter parents? 

The husband:  Um, yes.  Like you.

Me:  I am NOT a helicopter parent.

The husband:  Fine.  You're not.  What about them?

Me:  Did you know they go on job interviews with their children?  How insane is that?

The husband:  Tell me you wouldn't want to do that.

Me:  I would not.  I don't helicopter over the girl.

The husband:  Please.

Me:  I don't!  And anyway, these parents call the companies to negotiate salaries and compensation packages.  How crazy is that?

The husband:  You mean to tell me you wouldn't call the girl's place of employment to do that?  Really.

Me: I would not!

The husband:  The girl and her employers better hope that there is never a situation where there are legal issues.  You'd be all over that.

Me:  No I wouldn't!  [Pause.]  I mean, I would discuss the girl's options with her.  I'd certainly make suggestions, but I wouldn't call her employer.

The husband:  Really.

Me:  I might call the EEOC or OSHA.

The husband:  Haven't we failed as parents if you have to call OSHA about the girl's working conditions?

Me:  Touche.

It's the community, really

Why do I blog?  What do I want out of this?

You see those questions asked often, and people do really try and answer them seriously, with a lot of thought put into their answers.

I'd do that, but it's late and I'm tired and I want to watch an episode of Scrubs before I fall asleep, so here's what I've got for you instead:

I blog because I love to write.  I also love to interact with people, but not too much.  I need my time alone. Or if not alone, then with just me, the girl and the husband in the house.  We can be sitting in the same room, but we like our separate activities, too.  We are a group of loners.

That's us in the evening.  I'm the one wearing two maxipads, because it's the full moon and I've got my period.

Anyway, I like to interact with people, particularly funny people, people who think and have something thoughtful to say.  I mean, have you tried talking to the general public?  It's a nightmare.

Also, most importantly, I like when people read what I write and I LOVE when people make comments about it.  Because I am needy and feel like you are validating me. Also, I love to get email, so when people comment and I get email, it's like a double win.

But I think the best part of this is that I get to write and I get to do it with a measure of anonymity.  I do that because I grew up with the maxim that you keep your secrets secret and DO NOT share information with your friends/relatives/etc. because they will use it against you.  That makes it hard to open up to people you deal with all the time.  How much sharing is too much?  The next time you meet up with your friend, are they thinking about the fact that you told them you sometimes will poop 4 or 5 times a day and it concerned you enough to discuss it with your doctor [who, by the way, told you it's FINE]?  Because if the situation were reversed, I would totally be thinking, "Has she pooped a lot today?  Is that why she's going to the bathroom again?  How can she poop in a public toilet?" [Easy. When you have to poop, you have to poop.]

Where was I?

Oh, anyway, the funny thing is, that by blogging and somehow visiting blogs and having people visit this blog, I have developed a community.  An amazing community where people are funny and kind and really, really foul-mouthed.  And with a few of these people, I've become more open and honest that I have with years in therapy or in years of friendship.  It's helped me move outside myself and become the person I want to be.  And I kind of like that.

I spend hours during my week either posting or reading posts, and yet there are very, very few people in my real life who read my blog or even know that this is a hobby [is that what this is?].  So I don't know what to do about that.  Or even if that should concern me at all. 

Hmmm . . . this was a lot more serious than I had planned.  So let's end it on this note:

Today at work, this douchebag guy got moved next to me and had, I am not kidding you, a spazzy fit about it.  An adult.  A grown-up man who acted like someone moved his carpet square in preschool.  And I wished, so desperately, that all my blogging friends were there to see it.