turd on a grassy knoll

this was just too good to leave alone.

an email from Oqui:

"Give me three hours, to leave here, another half to drive home and twenty minutes to clean my backside...I just topped your poo feat of yesterday. I'm not sure the physics behind what just happened, there may have been a turd on a grassy knoll, or the force may have been strong enough to push my entire body upward, regardless, when I came to, there was poo on the mirror in front of the toilet two feet above my head.

It's times like these I wish I had a camera."

RIP Uncle Walter

Uncle Walter died quietly last week at the age of 98.

he was still driving at the age of 96. never had a girlfriend. never watched television. lived in the spring house (no heat, electricity, etc) most of his life, and ate a baked apple and potato every day (which he put on top of the coal stove in the morning).

he died with over a million dollars in assets.

convinced in the 50's to purchase a thousand dollars of BFGoodrich stock, which he never touched.

before his death, he had already been robbed of 300 grand (120 of which went to vegas with a nephew a few months ago...never to be seen again. the money, that is. the nephew came back with his tail between his legs and very likely some permanent organ damage).

after going through several untrustworthy nephews as executers of his estate...he was left with Emerson holding the bag.

Emerson, apparently, is a cold hearted bastard and is not arranging for a funeral. now, poor uncle walter's church friends have no way of paying their last respects. upon insistent pressure from family members, Emerson the cuntox relented and agreed to a graveside service. ie. what they give murderes and John Does.

my family is pissed...

and already fighting over money.

I'm just glad I'm entirely too far down the line to ever see a dime, so I can stay as disentangled as possible.

I'll be digging out some of my favorite pictures of Uncle Walter tonight...

and making copies for the people who seemed to actually care about him.


crotchety old coot that he was...

he always made me laugh.

Rest In Peace, Uncle Walter...

eventually, they'll stop fighting.

43 hours without food

while I vowed that two trips to the ER was my limit for the year...

december 28th begged to differ.


food poisoning.

sick as a dog. miserable. fit to be tied...

I wanted to die.

then they gave me drugs and fluids and I settled for 18 hours of harangued naps.

on the upside:
-the IV took on the 5th try at the 3rd site

-you can have as many doses of anti-emetics as you require (I had 8)

-there was a crazy guy with armed guards RIIIIGHT next door who insisted he was going to "get his homies and shoot you all...not in the leg. not in the arm...no, no, my friends. I'm going to shoot you all IN THE FACE! IN THE FACE! IN THE FACE!" He also implored them to "RELEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE HIM!" about 42 billion times

-the puking stopped

-diarrhea isn't as bad as puking (no matter how many pairs of panties you have to sacrifice in the process)

-apple juice agree(d) with me. I had 6 cups during my stay (no WONDER I got teh poopies)

-nobody else got sick

-I still had 3 more days of health insurance


so while I found myself hacking up stomach acid and seeing stars...at least I won't get a ten thousand dollar bill for them keeping me alive.


now, if you'll excuse me.

I'm going to nap.


ps. kim insists it wasn't her cookie dough...I'm not so sure.

it would seem...

that when not working, I have things to speak about other than the children.

ha. freaking. ha ha ha.

take that, you varmin!!!

Miss Suki has a life of her own!!!

hahahahahahahaha




...ummm. about that life of mine.

on second thought, it would also seem that when not with the children...I still talk about them.

nutz.

I just heard...

^ my favorite photo of her

Benazir Bhutto was assassinated in Pakistan.

She was one of the most well-spoken, beautiful and impressive women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting...and very much a symbol of feminine strength and grace for my daughter and I.

my mother fears the effects of a civil war in Pakistan, while I fear a world where female leaders are gunned down.

gunmen and suicide bombers murdered 20 people today...130 in a prior attack on her cavalcade.

deplorable.

while I'll agree that assasination is quite the effective political tool...if of course, one is interested in inspiring rioting, rebellion and retribution.

but didn't anyone tell these assholes...

it isn't nice to hit girls.

elected TWICE to office in a male dominated and domineering muslim society. deposed TWICE on charges of corruption. exiled. murdered.

I will mourn her loss, and pray (in my own way) that her assasination does not push an unstable region over the edge.


things like this...

make me rethink wanting to have children.

oh, hell. I almost forgot.

I also spent four hours in a beauty salon torture chair getting my hair did.

they biffed it.

they biffed it reeeal bad.

it was colored three times. toned twice. and highlighted twice.

it's STILL strawberry shortcake red (for my younger readers...(god, I HOPE I don't have any younger readers...) think Ginger spice).

my scalp was burned to oblivion and I now have dandruff flakes the size of fingernails.


all this...

and I got to spend a hundred bones on it.


I'll be making an appointment for corrective color as soon as my scalp heals (thank jehosephat I don't work until next week)...

then sending those bitches the bill.

I'd like to provide photographic evidence, but we've yet to replace the digital I lost in "the settlement"...and besides...

I'm not sure I'd post it anyway. I have a certain image to maintain here (bad ass internet potty mouth)...

and quite frankly, the strawberry shortcake, punky brewster, pippy longstockings look...

not nearly as badass as teh Suki.

so little time...

so many relatives.


it's been a busy week(ish). over the weekend Oqui and I finally got the tree, gutted the house, replaced the garbage disposal (more to follow on that. I'm sooo proud of him), shoved as many chairs as could possibly fit into this house, battoned the hatches and prepared for the storm that is my family.

we still...haven't decorated the tree.

and, more importantly (I think), nobody lost a finger.

Christmas Eve found forty of my closest and least obnoxious (ha. ha. ha.) relatives crammed into my house. total chaos. one aunt brought a lollipop tree...she's going to die for that. there were children shoved in corners, grannies shoved in closets. uncles crammed in boxes and wrapping paper everywhere.

it was glorious.

Oqui spent the majority of the evening in the kitchen grabbing random passing children and saying, "hey, kid! who are you?" in his best Bob imitation. good natured are these children, thusly noone got kicked in the shin. I spent the rest of the evening on lollipop patrol. stealing everyone I could find...including the one I found stuck to my couch.

again...good thing these kids are cool or I probably would've lost an eye, thieving their candy, as such.

it was a great time. the only thing I love more than the communion of family members...is the look on oqui's face whenever he sees a kid, a puppy, a favorite aunty and I banter or a gazillion people having fun and sharing laughs in our home.

I suppose it was even worth the bickering the pre-party prep provided (I almost killed him).

I further suppose it was even worth opening up our home again the next morning for Christmas breakfast.

yeah...we're gluttons for punishment.

so within 18 hours we entertained 60 people in this 1,700 sf house...and did so without any breakage. the kids went home happy, the adults went home in one piece...and the dogs were wonderfully well-behaved...impressing the entire clan.

so much so, in fact, that I didn't have to pay through the nose for the dog-walker because the pups' great-grandparents agreed to come over and let them out for our day-long journey to Oqui's mom's.

sorry wiggles wags and whiskers...granny's got this one. they came equipped with their own treats (how cute is that!?!?!?! they went out and bought treats for the mutts!!!), did my dishes and I'm willing to bet my grandfather rewired something while he was here. If I flip the basement light switch and hear helicopter blades...

rest assured my Grampa will get it.

it was nice to head down to oqui's mammy's where we did nothing but open gifts, eat and cuddle. heavy on all three, as a matter of fact.

bayl had a good christmas. she ran amuck with the blood relative spawn, got more than she needed (always does)...including not one but TWO I-homes (I'm thinking her dad and I probably should've coordinated a bit on that one)...and as usual, did it all with a social grace that still amazes me.

who raised this kid???

tonight will find the Matty-kins here for his pre-mexico send off. love this kid. love 'im...

and oqui and I liquored up, hopefully high as a kite on something (chocolate count?) and the fireplace roaring (insofar as a cheapy gas fireplace is capable of doing so).

tomorrow will probably find me, once again, alone in the house, lonely as can be, and missing the noise, clutter and clambor of a gazillion people around. today I've got an improptu trip to meet Kim (of cross racing infamy) planned. she says we won't hang all day.

I beg to differ. two women, one kitchen, both addicted to sweet things.

I'll be lucky to make it home in time to see Matty and Oqui passed out, spooning on the couch.


while I've been having a fantastic time...this holiday was not without its downs.

I had a good long cry over my lost sister. lost niece. the father I haven't spoken to in over a dozen years and the father oqui can hardly remember. I miss Kaiya. I miss Danette. I'm upset that I have another sister I've never met. I KNOW on an intellectual level that in a family this size...

you're bound to lose one or two...but I'm really not willing to accept that I have two sisters with a 10 mile radius...

neither of whom I have a relationship with.

this. will. be. fixed. even if the sister I grew up with continues to refuse to speak to any of us...I can always make right with my father (maybe) and gain access to the little sister I never knew. She's about my Monkey's age...maybe too old to ever really know and trust me as a sister...

but certainly not too old to establish a relationship with her same-age niece.

the cry Oqui and I had together over this...solicited by a cheesy christmas movie...
really solidified for us how important family is. we vowed to continue to raise bayl right...and make sure that any other peanuts we're fortunate enough to have feel the same love.

the pity is though, between us...we can't provide a single legitimate grandfather for them.

hope everyone had a fantastic holiday and continues to do so!!!!

Suki

ps.

for christmas we got:
-a Bongo board
-an extra bike tower for the car
-a new set of UBER NICE kitchen knives
-garbage disposal
-more gloves than we have hands
-down filled slip on booties (PERFECT for climbing) for me
-a new frying pan (to be used wisely)
-BEAUTIFUL hand-made artisan glass ornament
-welcome mat
-TP
-hats, scarves, mittens
-cookies, money, cards
-electric blanket, massage oils, hair towels, bath salts, heating pad
-quality time with too seldomly seen relatives.

woops.

the kids are watching a movie.

I forgot they were here.

I farted...

out loud.

haaaaaaahahahahaha

its a stinker.

snagged

I totally got caught reeming out the kids today.

I was ten minutes from freedom with this particular bunch when one of them casually mentioned that they're this bad all the time.

oh. no. they. didn't.

these kids habitually show up without pencils, homework, text books or a single solitary desire to learn.

so I let them have it. I tore into them about respect, responsibility, motivation, behavior (I called them babboons, I think), outlined in furious detail proper classroom etiquette, told them to prepare themselves for a 4 page essay on what they want to be when they grow up...

and how they intend to get there.

they were shell-shocked and dumbstruck.

apparently...

noone has ever expected ANYthing from them.


needless to say the VP was stationed directly outside of my door during the entire tyrade. I heard only this from her, "I know. I heard."

I adamantly defended my rant. they deserve nothing less than TO BE SHOWN that someone expects them to perform.

I think the vice principal agreed with me...

or maybe she just wasn't the one to tell me not to come back tomorrow.


either way...I got to yell. they got told off.

I win.

my god, I'm pissed.

health insurance - $600/mo

kids written up today - 4
goal for number of kids written up today - 10 (they let me down and behaved. pity)

patience level - -.78

I'm having an argh moment. more like an argh day. let's see if I can't climb it out tonight and avoid an entire argh week.

on second thought...I'm going to remain as argh'ed as I possible can, take it out on those closest to me, eventually scare my loved ones into a closet/basement/coma...

then have no reason to (live) continue worrying about the cost of health care coverage.


fuck you, grid.

I'm pushing forward plans to unplug...but since I'll be elbow deep in debt I'm thinking I'll have to assume a new identity to do so, lest the creditors knock down the door to my ramshackle shanty in attempts to force me to make good on my debts (sorry, missuh. I aint gots no money...but you can have some o' dis here moonshine, if'n you'd like)


who needs a social security number, anyway?

the better half of SukIo

t'would appear that my best friend since fourth grade has started a blog of her very own.



she's amazing.
beautiful.
talented.
succesful.
graceful.
brilliant.


all the things I used to/hoped to be.


My Girl Io


this girl and my relationship with her is responsible for at least 80% of who I am.


I'll be guest blogging over there from time to time.


check her out.

but, unlike my blog...

no cussing (I've already been censored/censured, myself).

health room

I just went to the nurse.

I scored myself 2 ibuprofen, went potty and availed myself of their highly accurate, well calibrated, doctor's office scale.

yeah, I weigh 127 lbs.

127 and a HALF, actually.

jesus H. looks like its time to change my sub-title.

Rocking the Suburbs...

I'm all sorts of chubby.

talking to the 'nonny

project deadline + stressed, tired man = excellent time for "O" therapy

so we're having our usual pillow talk. going over the day, telling some funnies, venting about ree ree's, et cetera...when he suddenly snatches at the drawstring on my comfy pants and says (not without a trace of insanity in his voice):

give it to me.

sure thang, cowboy. giddy up.

not more than a moment later...my pants thrown aside, his face rather decidedly shoved between my thighs I hear a mumbled and distorted, "I love you."

I'm not even going to pretend he wasn't talking directly to the nonny.



a moment or two after his love confessional to my hoo hoo I hear another mutter.

something having to do with salad tossing.


hmmm...well...ok. Thich Nhat Hahn and I just had a good 90 minute soaking, so I suppose now's as good a time as any.

at one point or another I'm pretty sure my hip was dislocated to allow for better access...

and I'm thinking he hyperventilated under the covers.

all good. I'm a team player. anything to keep this here relationship machine well oiled and running smoothly.

I WILL, however, draw the line the precise MOMENT he starts sharpening his pinky nail or reaches for a stapler.

chicken fricasee

cream of chicken soup.

8th grade today. murder. the smart ones were clever enough to take advantage of me...the, shall we say not-so-sharp, of the bunch were despairingly incapable.

bisquick.

quit the shelter. too loud. too overwhelming. too irreparable. caught in a moment of weakness. a phone call 15 minutes before I should've been there woke me up. "yeah, umm...I guess I've really just been trying to grow enough sack to tell you I never wanna come back again"

boneless skinless chicken breast.

tired. always tired. too excited to sleep? too lazy to finish things up during normal waking hours, then left to worry over them during the sleepy times?

milk.

exercise. I need it. 115 lbs is about what my right thigh weighs these days. pants getting tight. shirts starting to fit...for once. being referred to as "that gym chic with the ass" rattling my cage. is this me getting healthy??? or a bullet train to obesity?

oregano.

holidays. party of 40 my house christmas eve. breakfast for 15 the next morning. oqui's mother feeling shafted. my dogs dreading the inevitable two day crate stay while we go kiss her ass. dog walker on speed dial.

parsley.

I smell grape. I would looooove a piece of grape bubble yum.

salt.

the man hovering. home late from work. busting hump on a project...on minorly disappointed that I've stopped to blog.

pepper.

I fucking hate pepper.

garlic salt.

yoga. martial arts. moving meditation. I feel a return to training coming on...

chi.

the clockwork suki

random rambings from a (believe it or no) completely sober suki.

in fact, believe it or no, I'm sober pretty much all the time. I have a drink or half maybe twice a month??? or so. yet, I'm pretty certain I come across as soaked to the gills most of the time. I laughed my way through the punchline of a second grade joke to the principal yesterday...

all the while, aware that I looked drunk off my ass. amidst my joke ruining giggling fit, I think I even managed to choke out an "oh, no. now I look drunk" snort. I should lay off the chocolate.

the joke:

two sausages are sizzling in a frying pan.
one sausage looks over to the other and says, "whew. its getting hot in here!"
the second sausage looks back and says, "OH NO!!!! It's a talking sausage!!!"

^ had me cracking up for hours.

the kids didn't laugh...at least not at the joke. we stumbled upon it while I was reading them a book and I lost it. they eventually laughed...at me. the principal decided that just then was the perfect time to come in and check on me...

and was rewarded for his efforts by me slobbering all over myself.

^ the kids most certainly laughed at that, though.


then a bunch of other things happened. I wound up at home and eventually fed (even though the chinese food delivery man was high off his ass and showed up 72 minutes after I called) and plopped my sad sorry (and fat) ass into a hot bath.

then the suki began to think.

ruh roh.

I had some realizations and came to some conclusions. most of which I forget now that I've cried them out and slept on it, but I'll give you the skeletal picture.

WARNING: THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET RIDICULOUSLY PERSONAL IN HERE. NOT MY USUAL FLIPPANT, CAVALIER AND COMEDICALLY DRAMATIZED VERSION OF PERSONAL...I'M TOO TIRED FOR THAT.

THE REAL DEAL.

please sign here acknowledging that the suki will not be held liable for any and all reactions (emotional, physical, vomitous or otherwise) to the following blog entry.

x________________________


congratulations, welcome to my inner workings.

Chapter 1
I'm not pregnant.

He thought I was. He thought he knew the day. He'd sleep with his hand on my belly and wake with a smile...

but I'm not pregnant.

I let myself fantasize about it, because I thought "what the hell...he might be right," but I knew all along that I felt nothing. If I'd sneeze, he'd smile and rush over to comfort me. If I mentioned casually that I didn't feel well or was tired, he bent over backwards to accomodate. If I so much as sighed...he was at the ready with a massaging hand and a knowing look.

nope. not pregnant.

a few days after I was expecting auntie to breeze into town and ruin the party I decided to take a test...not knowing exactly how I felt about the whole thing. you know you're excited, but not so much that you're not ever-so-subtly crushed by disappointment...but you really don't KNOW how you actually feel...

that is until you both cry about it. it was negative. I could've bet a G on it. yet, here I am...6 days late...

and not pregnant.

torture. sheer unadulterated torture.

I've spent almost 12 years wanting on some level to feel the kick of a baby inside me, again. I even spent several of those years trying.

no dice.

now, that its definitely in our plan (we keep making jokes about our 18 month plan suddenly being a 9 or 10 month one)...I realize I'm shit scared.

what if I suddenly suck at being a mother? I've got a 12 year old that I have to willingly and excruciatingly extricate myself from...or her growing process over the next four years will kill me. as I see it...she has two options:

1. do absolutely nothing wrong and be the biggest ill-prepared, sheltered dork on the planet

or

2. fuck something up.

I can only hope that her character stays as strong as its been and she manages to LEARN from the fuck-ups and emerge (relatively) unscathed on the other side. she's a good kid.

a VERY good kid. she's made healthy, positive choices thus far...

always during the times when I didn't WANT to let her go (to the dance, pool, creek, friend's house, et cetera)...

but knew I had to.

her job, as I see it, for the next few years is to need me less and less. to become independant and leave me behind to go to college, find a career, begin a relationship, and visit me once a month if I'm lucky.

can I do that all, again? I'm older. different. perhaps less competant.

more importantly (and here's where I tend to turn on the tears)...what's my job when I stop being a mommy?

I posed this one to the Oq last night. I'm over-stimulated. very much so. my job is hard, but the rewards are stellar. I'm tired, stressed and pinging off the walls when I get home...

but I learn something every. single. day. usually a dozen or so things are added to my repertoire by the time I leave the classroom. I haven't felt that envigorated since I was 8 years old. but it tires me. I find myself wrapped in the comforter and in my pajamas before 4pm most days...

and I stay there.

I can't hack the kid's noises (she's entered her 'music is my life' phase), I can't stand the computer. all of the tv's in this house have since died quick and painless deaths when I cut the cable...and then pulled their cords. even the dogs tip-toe or get the hairy eyeball.

quiet. I require sooooo much quiet. can I chase a toddler around wearing earmuffs???

I actually thought last night, "ok. this is serious. I'm going to talk to him about birth control" because I don't trust myself to be able to handle it all, again. the one thing on the planet I've always felt like I was rocking at...being a mom...scared the bajeezus out of me last night.

He smiled knowingly at me as I cried. He told me I'd be amazing at it. he told me that my ease of parenting is one of the things he loves so much about me. he kissed my forehead and told me not to worry. he told me that things ARE difficult now. we're working our asses off. working towards a goal so that we can relax then.

it was all I needed to hear. I trust this man.

if he says we can do it. if he says he can do it.

if he says I can do it...



I can do it.

wwwwwwwwwwell, ok.

I just logged into myspace for the first time in a few weeks and got a VERY nasty hate e-mail from the ex's brother.

calling me an awful person. telling my bitch ass that he's glad his brother isn't with me anymore, to sell the house that his brother paid for...that I'm living in with my new guy...so that he doesn't HAVE TO come down here to get his brother's stuff.

then asking me if anyone really wanted him to come down here...

and daring me to fucking respond.

sooo....

I did.
(obviously)


I wished he and his family well...sincerely...and told him that I cried when I heard that his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer and is going to lose her beautiful hair.

I wished them strength and calm in the months (years?) to come.

seriously, dude...relax.

you don't have to like me. I don't have to like you. and FORTUNATELY for everyone involved...

we never have to see each other again.


amen. good-night. hallelujah.

subtle...but oh-so effective

date: 12.06.07
location: R-Side Elementary
Grade: third
time: 30 seconds early


teachers are bitches.

I can't seem to pinpoint any particular reason, and I suppose it differs by case.

but, invariably - particularly in this school (perhaps b/c the principal is a worthless, ineffective, lazy sack of poorly dressed dog dung)...

teachers are petty, conniving, nit-picking CUNTS.

CUNTS I TELL YA

december's cunt o' da munf award goes to...


*drumroll, please*

the music teacher.

holy ba-fucking-humbug, douchebag.


I picked my kids up from lunch and had them lined quietly, patiently and (believe it or not) RESPECTFULLY (a rarity in these parts) outside of the music room.


apparently....30 seconds early.

I've never taken a class to music in this school before, so unaware of the procedure I peek my head around the corner to find (wait for it. its good)...


a green light sign and instructions reading:

COME ON IN!!!

Knock once and come inside.


ok. I gave it a pleasant little rap and opened 'er up...

to find the wicked witch of the muddy flapping west sneering at me with a "YOU'RE 30 SECONDS EARLY!!!!"

I kid you not. I almost slapped her.

actually, thats kinda a lie.

I really almost punched her.


I let it roll on off (because I'm not sure I can rustle up bail money) and very politely asked her what time I need to pick them up.

she told me 1:45.
then told me my clock is slow.



yeah...I'm going to get them at 1:48.

cunt.

I don't wanna

it's cold. I had a half day, today. 3rd grade. home early. kinda hungry...

and cold.

on my way home, a list of 43,926 things I need to accomplish formed in my beady little brain.

walk the dogs.
paint the bathroom.
hang the curtains.
visit grandparents.
visit other grandparents.
thank you note(s).
murder the dogs.
try out new pizza recipe.
make sense of the mess that is this house.
go for brave, bold, chilly solo ride.
bury the dogs.
climb tonight.
prepare for house meeting.
read.
read some more.
keep reading.
fold the laundry.
look for job (that doesn't suck).
take rock hard nipp'd nudies (did I mention its cold?).
water plants.
clean kitchen.
pay bills.
take bath.


et cetera.


then I got home. I picked up my book, got under the covers and realized...

other than reading...I don't wanna. not out of frustration, being overwhelmed, over-worked, over-tired or anything other than sheer laziness, but:

idonwannaidonwannaidonwannaidonwanna.

I'm gonna plant my slightly chilled self under a down (alternative) comforter for the next 4 or 5 hours...

and do absolutely, precisely, entirely...

nothing.


'cept for mebbe send the kid to the neighborhood store to fetch me some chocolate later.

we're feebs (ie. feeble minded folk)

and Oqui grew boobs


^ click it, bitches

6.67

hours of sleep is not sufficient.

I'm dying here, guys.

I need a mug of tea, a warm blanket, a quiet corner and 37 minutes.


then I need to get more than 6 1/2 hours of sleep tonight, as well.


can somebody tell me a bedtime story???

my blog is cursed.

EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME I say something here...


the precise opposite occurs.


fine, bliggity blog. have it your way.

I'm ugly.
my boobs are tiny.
I don't want to make any money.
I like stress.
I don't need new clothing...


and your mom is gorgeous.

SURPLUS!!!

I know we're missing something in the calculations.

several things, I'm sure.


HOWEVER, we just determined that with all (forty-eight million) of our jobs...we won't starve during the winter months.

amen.
hallelujah.
praise be to...something.

I'm gonna splurge and buy the quilted TP tonight.

words from the wall

thieved from some posters on the classroom wall:

Watch your thoughts,
they become words.

Watch your words,
they become actions.

Watch your actions,
the become habits.

Watch your habits,
they become your character.

Watch your character,
it becomes your destiny.




No Slackers

to be a leader you gotta be:
movin', shakin', problem solvin', positive thinkin', crowd involvin', class leadin', example settin', student servin', results gettin', character buildin', team creatin', working together, cooperatin'.

The school will NEVER be the same!!!



For Today

For today, I will embrace life.
For today, I will make the best of my circumstances.
For today, I will celebrate the joy of simple things.
For today, I will learn something new.
For today, I will be a better person.
For today, I will reach out to someone in need.
For today, I will be thankful.
For today, I will dream with my eyes open.
For today, I will laugh.
For today, I will encourage a friend.
For today, I will use my imagination.
For today, I will relax.
For today, I will listen.
For today, I will take time...



SELF-CONTROL IS KNOWING YOU CAN, BUT DECIDING YOU WON'T.



Make an effort, not an excuse.



Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.



Don't make excuses...make improvements.

I yelled at her

she had it coming.

I think because we've always had such a close relationship. because I've always seen her as such a source of entertainment and joy. because she's rounding the corner of young adulthood...and I've been tip-toeing the discipline line, so as not to become yet another despised parent of a big-headed, hormone bloated teenager...

that I've dropped the ball a bit lately.

I've been too soft on her, so today I yelled at her.

she was being whiny, self-indulgent, non-cooperative and a general purpose pain in the ass. she's been playing the attractive and charming card and wimping out on any real responsibility. she charmed her way through grade school (had 'em eating out o' her hand, she did)...and is attempting to employ the same tactics now.

sans success.

yeah, she had it coming.

I've been really pushing her to read. expand her horizons. electronic devices and rap music irk me to high heaven after 3.67 seconds and I'm BOUND AND DETERMINED to get her to turn them off. (Not to mention college, SAT's, being able to speak intelligently and ultimately finding a productive and enjoyable place in this world)...

and read.

today, I gave her the option of two different books, both of which I read (and loved) at her age...and she snubbed her nose at both. made excuses. lolly gagged. rationalized. and actually CRIED because I told her to get the hell off the computer and read.

then I yelled at her.

if she insisted one more goddamn time that "we should do something fun since its my last day of vacation"...I was going to cut her hair off.

instead, I yelled at her.

I told her that life is not one big ol' party. you don't ALWAYS get to play. you don't ALWAYS get to choose your activity. and it isn't always (loud or) fun.

she sulked. I fumed.

she's been tippy toeing her way down the lazy, indulged, incapable path for the better of two months now...all without me taking any serious assertive action. I was going to let her self-regulate...



but whiny, entitled children grow into....

well...whiny entitled adults.


not on my watch.





she had it coming...really.

day off number 5

while I'm not ENTIRELY enamored with sitting around all day listening to the dogs lick their asses...


its better than stressing over 20 kids whose learning is resting solely in my (in)capable hands.

day off number 5, it is.

climbed, rode and fell this weekend. the body is sore but the spirit is refreshed.

I think I'm going to paint another room today.


as an aside: vitamin b-12, I love you.

you've got to be shitting me

7:35pm was the revelation of my blessings and subsequent resolve to remain positive.

8:05pm I went to go poo, got to thinking (as one does on the can) and came to yet ANOTHER brand spanking new and contradictory conclusion.

guilt.

I feel tremendously fucking guilty.

I was all cozied up, warming the seat, feeling good about my life when I said to myself, "Life is good, at least you aren't lonely"

then holy shit storm of shit storms (figuratively. the actual poo was frightened off by the emotional one)....

it hit me.

HE IS LONELY.

and its entirely my fucking fault.

I've been disallowing myself comfort and calm because I've caused him the opposite.


now all the peace and serenity of 38 minutes ago is gone...

replaced, once again...

by guilt.




tell me....somebody...PLEASE...

that this ends.

well.

for all of us.

b(e)

it's 7:35. wednesday night. I'm alone in the house (strange that it seems to have taken me several hours to realize that) when I realized:

I'm lying in my bed, in my jammies...with nothing but a book and a bean burrito...

and I'm content.

perspective.

mine just changed. if the only thing I need in my life to quiet my nerves and rejuvenate my spirit is some down time...

I'm ridiculously lucky.

there was a time in my life when an empty house (quite the rarity) and a book wouldn't have been enough. would have been depressing. I needed so much more. times when I felt lonely. unloved. lost.

my life is so full, now. sometimes full to the point of bursting...full with a drooling dog or two eyeing up both my bed and my burrito...but full.

experiences. positive, negative, neutral...I'm pretty fucking lucky to have as many as I do.

I'm loved. I'm secure. I'm productive. I get hugs from children. I make love to my man. I kiss a beautiful child good night. I pet my loyal dogs. I walk barefooted on my cold cold floors.

I remember times in my life when I couldn't say those things. I like these times better. my plate might be full and I might get overwhelmed.

but, right now...

I'm cool with that.



I'll count myself among the lucky ones and shoot for one bean burrito book night among many scrambling, shuffling others...

to retain some perspective.

green must be my color

because I feel much better.

whether it was the process of working together to make it more "our" bedroom (getting his furniture in there would help, as well), or the catharthis of clean walls...

or I just got really high off the fumes...

either way, I feel better.

I'm still concerned about things, but not overwhelmed the way that I was Saturday.

mess. I was a hot steaming mess.

now, I think I'm taking things in stride, again.

I'm worried about going under for a "scoping"...but I'm not having feverish nightmares over it.
I'm pressed for time and still feel I haven't been doing my girls in the shelter justice, but I'm not crying my eyes out over it.
I'm scared for my sister, but have accepted my role.
My students are needy, cute, naughty and transient...and I'm OK with that (I guess).

all in all, I feel mostly recovered.

and thank fricking god, for that.

I REALLY didn't like feeling like that.

my sister has cancer (and other things that make me cry)

Oqui says that one of the things he loves most about me is that I always end a sentence/conversation/discussion with "well, the good news is..."

problem is...I'm having trouble seeing the good in the good news, lately.

I'm a mess. my emotional control is set to zero. I cry while I laugh. I laugh at myself crying...then I REALLY cry.

I'm afraid I'm losing it. I feel despondent and hopeless.

I look at the man I love and feel only fear that something will take him from me.
I look at the children I teach and realize that in a few short weeks, they'll no longer be "my kids."
I look at my beautiful and amazing daughter and hear her voice resounding in my head, "you go. I'll stay here and live with daddy."
I think of my youngest niece, cut-off from the entirety of her family for the last 8 months, and wonder, "will she remember aunt NeeNee? does she miss babydoll heaven. has her mother made her hate us?"

my sister has cancer. she hasn't spoken to us (including her two teenage daughters) since she lost custody..and I found out last night she has cancer.

I'd been feeling so indescribably horrible lately, that I've done a ton of soul searching...trying to figure out what's wrong. I've identified 33 bazillion things that make me sad, but not one of them seems to be "it."

it's indescribable.

then it hit me. this pain...may not be my own.

my mother and sister and I have always had a bond. we've ALWAYS known when something was wrong with one of the others.

our great-grandmother called it "the sight."

intuition, esp, empathy, non-existant bullshit...

whatever you wanna call it. it's strong.

so strong that over the last few months...even the mention of the word "sister" brought me to tears.

she's not well. she's never been well. her entire life has been one of pain, emotional torment, insecurity and fear.

she's never been well.

now that's she PHYSICALLY unwell...I feel that, too.

and there's nothing I can do about it. her boyfriend told me (on the sly) that she waited too long. its worse than it should be. she has surgery scheduled for the end of the month...

and she thinks she's dying.


my sister has wanted to die for many many years. she's often tried to take her life, herself. she won't speak to any of us.

how does a person in that state find the will to fight?

I hate this. I can't help her. I'm so unstable, myself, right now....so much going on...that EVEN IF she would speak to me...

she'd drag me under, too.

so we wait. we hold our breath and send our vibes. I don't want to lose my sister.

to cancer. to suicide. to silence.

I don't want to lose my sister.







(and in an effort not to overwhelm myself with sadness any further)

...but the good news is:

-oqui bought me a crock pot. just when I thought there was nothing on earth he could do to cheer me up, I went downstairs and found it. the crock pot I had taken OUT of my cart the night before, unable to justify the expense. the crockpot I wished whole-heartedly that I had the following day when one of my old ones spilled (my awesome sausage stew) in my car, and the handle broke off of the other spilling my (awesome) columbian beef stew on the school parking lot...as I was locked out of the school...arms full, problem child spazzing while someone else watched my room...guilt piling on.

yeah, he bought me the 5 quart one with the travel handles, latching lid and spill-proof seal.

-I was coaxed out of my bedroom yesterday by an unexpected call from my friend stephanie. she was in my area. she was doing well. she had met a man. she wanted to see me. she's no longer depressed and trying to kill herself and she was alive.

alive and well.

we ate, we drank, we reminisced and were merry. I almost didn't let it bother me that she's scheduled to have yet ANOTHER lump removed from her breast tomorrow. I'm really fucking tired of cancer...


-my youngest niece is in kindergarten. exposed to the real world...and doing well. while her older sisters bore the brunt of my sister's instability before...she's bearing it, now.

but doing well. for all intents and purposes...

she's a normal little kid. I cried for an hour after hearing that.

for once, lately, tears of relief.

-I decided if I'm going to spend the rest of my life crying in the bedroom...I might as well paint it. we're going with green. I'm going to paint the walls, the dogs, my hair and my man...

and hopefully smile while doing it.

breaking news. this just in...

the suki...

aint so stable.

I'm not particularly "normal" and sanity, I've discovered...is relative.

I guess I'm what you would call a "high functioning" momo. I talk a good game. I even put on a good face and make a good showing of it (occasionally I even dress the part. I'm tempted to abandon this blog right here and instead devote the next 2500 words or less to the pantyhose with the droopy crotch I wore today, but...).

then I come home and bawl my eyes out...almost daily.

work is VERY difficult for me. partly because its difficult work (2nd graders are evil) and partly because I'm still extremely gun shy and not too terribly confident in my ability to perform under pressure.

(for you cyclists out there read: I will NEVER race. hiding in the back is one my favoritist things to do)

see...I had a bad run of it at my first job. well, my only REAL job. I was fresh out of college. had a brand spanking new diploma with summa cum laude marks, a 5 year old...and hadn't slept in three years. I was ripe for a break down.

and boy, did I.

I was overwhelmed, undermined, back-stabbed, dicked around, toyed with, played a fool and quit mid performance review with verbiage to the effect of "I will NOT subjugate my soul to DA MAN!!"...

and left to "write a book."

folks, this blog and several cocktail napkins full o' dribble is as close as I've come to writing anything.

since then I've spent the latter portion of seven years fearing leaving my home, REALLY fearing job/career/performance expectations/criticism/pressure/normal tasks of functioning adults in the course of daily living and believe it or not...

money.

(^ by far NOT my biggest fear, mind you)

so now I've shed the comfort of house-wifery, taken to the work force, bought myself some teacher shoes...

and again with the crying almost daily.

shop: 1, suki: 0

I'm 20 minutes late everyday. most days I'm lucky to beat the kids to the classroom. mostly because I have the most god awful time walking out the door.

I.just.don't.want.to.leave.

I was home by 3:00 today. promptly donned my jammies...and don't intend to leave my bedroom again until I'm 72.

years old.

you can't make me do it.

well, YOU can't...but the chinese food delivery guy (yeah, I'm not even leaving the house for food) could POSSIBLY tempt me to leave my bedroom...but only if Oqui were to break both of his legs and not be able to fetch it for me.

I'm planning on peeing out the window, shitting in the hamper, and eating the dogs when I run out of chinese.

I'm officially throwing in the towel (the shower's in the bathroom. I won't be needing it) and calling it quits.

life is overwhelming.

I'm taking a sabbatical.

nope (aka FUCK YOU, STRESS)

nope. not gonna do it, anymore.

I outright fucking refuse to let you get to me.

yeah, this shit is frustrating.

yeah, I'm fucking tired.

yeah, I feel like I'm failing.

and NO. no, you are not going to fucking beat me.

fuck you, stress.

I climb goddamn mountains on bikes and in harnesses, bitch. I gave birth to an almost 9 pound child. I eat gun powder for breakfast and wash it down with badger bile. I shot JFK, motherfuckers. what the hell you got on me?

I'll tell you what...nothing.

nada

zip

zilch

nunca

neine

diddly

zippo

naught

zot

nix

nihil

scratch

zero

forget jesus...I asked myself today What Would SUKI Do?

I'll tell you what. she'd roll up her fucking sleeves, dig in her heels, fight down her demons and wreck some moficking shop.

dear shop,

prepare to have your shit wrecked.

love always,

teh suki

new post

this is me...posting.

this is me pretending my forearms aren't sore and my hands don't hurt.

this is me ignoring my dog begging (quite audibly) at the back door to go drop a deuce.

this is me waiting for the devil to get home so we can sin together.

this is me hoping that tomorrow morning is oh-so-far away and that when it gets here I don't suck at it.

this is me...still posting and ignorning my crying dog.



I know I'm lame. I know I've been stuck on fuss lately. I read my blog. I then reread it a week later and realize how annoying I was being.

and yet...

this is me...still being me.



I do have one thing going for me, though...

I make whiny look GOOD!

yawn.

I'm exhausted.

I've been having fitful sleep, at best, lately. tons of nightmares. most recently of snakes and demons chewing their way out of my ass.

anxiety over revisiting the whole ass doctor thing much? due to recent events: its decided.

I'm having the colonoscopy.

and I'm throwing oqui's alarm clock out the window tonight (not his fault, mind you),

but did I mention I NEED SLEEP?

the kid has been gone half an hour, the O has been gone for 20 minutes and it is all I can do not to go back to sleep. for six hours.

I'm so tired.

instead of fighting with the alarm clock(s) and going back to sleep, I finally gave in today and got up with him. I got the (sick) kid out of bed, let the dogs out, escorted the kid to the lower level bathroom (she refused to go on her own. there was a bug), packed his lunch (complete with padded red bra and a naughty note that he's going to be finding any. minute. now...) and had myself some cereal...

at home for once.

did I mention that I'm tired?

the teacher I was supposed to be covering for for TWO weeks had way more complicated surgery than expected...and is now out for another FOUR.

dear, lord...I'm tired.

parent teacher conferences this week. I no speaka da spanish (I mused a bit last night over how I live so near an area where english seems to be either a lost or yet to be acquired art).

as soon as my last parent leaves today...I'm coming home, putting on my in-home only pants (I wore them outside for the very first time EVER yesterday. velour ass enhancing, side stripe thigh enhancing, torn crotch cooter enhancing lack of aesthetics, and all).

it was one of the most ghetto things I've ever done (since high school, anyway)...

all because I'm tired.

meltdown

saturday...


was not a good day.

in fact, it was the mother of all frustration. the nexus of evil in an evil suki's life. it was the nucleus of disaster.

it was...simply put...my breaking point. just ask sam. she got the 3 page hysterical text message. (ps. so sorry about that, yo)


We were supposed to be at oqui's mother's house all day to help her winterize the house (ie. eat pizza). My niece's birthday party was at 4...her father needed company and support (single father of two girls with 12 thirteen year old girls in his house=ready to crack). I wanted to meet Sam at the climbing gym for some harness time and a box o' goodies. I was hungry. We had two showings on the house, a massive mess to clean up and an ignorant family of 4 showed up unannounced, came into my home (by my good graces) and insulted it in front of me.

I spazzed.

I was running frantically around the house crying, pointing out everything wrong with it. everything I SHOULD have done to it. everything I did do that sucked. this plant doesn't belong here. these curtains should be hung. this wall is smudged. this window is dirty. these floors are a mess. this carpet is disgusting.

Oqui finally snatched me up, gave me a hug and pointed out that...

they got to me.

and boy did they. I felt so violated. I'm sooooooo busy and these fools show up unannounced (I had a sponge in my hand when I opened the door)...and have the nerve to snub their nose at my property. MY HOME because my yard isn't big enough or the floors are scratched.

it hurt. bad.

Oqui (still hugging me) told me to quit the second job. he asked me if it was worth it to try to help others with their kids...when I felt like I had so little time with my own. when I mourn the loss of reading time. when I WISH I had cooked dinner last night. when I have to pay someone else to walk my dogs instead of running them, myself.

when I feel like a stranger in my own house b/c I haven't had the time or money to make it my own....

and now I'm selling it.

where the fuck DO I live, anyway? where is my home?

everything I do to that house is to convince someone else that their couch would look stellar in the living room.

fuck that. if it doesn't sell in the next few weeks I'm taking it off the market, painting the bedroom chocolate brown and baking a pie for us.

...not because it makes the house smell warm and inviting for rude and retarded strangers...

because it makes it feel like home for US.

lord have MERCY on these children!!!

Miss Suki's doing report cards.

that's right boys and girls...its time. your teacher aint back...and I get to do the honors.


remember when you called me a dirty fish bitch and thought I didn't hear?

yeah. I heard you, mofo.

remember when you got your head stuck in the chair because you can't sit yo ass down?

yeah. that falls under "ability to regulate own behavior," "follows all school rules," "respects school and others' property," and "gets on teacher's last fucking nerve incessantly".

it's go time, mofickers.

I've gained four pounds stress eating over your dull-eyed, flat tailed asses....and now.

NOW I GET MY REVENGE.

those of you who are quiet, good, sweet and/or cute.

A's.

all of them. I don't give a rat's fuzzy nutsack if you failed every fucking test. if you didn't drive me ape shit...

honor roll time.

I'll throw you the pizza party.

I'm making shit up so blatantly (instructional reading level=on level, my ass) that I'm going to burn in hell with a sub-zero parka on...and I don't give a flick.

revenge. is. mine.

oh yeah...I'm also doing your conferences.

ha. fricking. ha. ha hahahahahahahahahahahah

tell yo momma to come early. I got lots to say.

j-dawg...you're going down.
l-diddy...this will only hurt for a minute.
s-monster...you had this coming from the moment I laid ears on you, you screechy little fuck.

I'm gonna go on downstairs, pour myself the mother of all glasses of cheap ass wine...and set my pen to blazing.


Miss Evil Suki (of teaching infamy)


ps. my dog's pecker has been out for hours. he and my other mutt have been taking turns licking it.

I'm jealous...not because I can't lick his peener (cause technically...I could), but because no one is licking mine.

incommunicado

it would appear that in my blind rage rush (I hate my ass. I really hate my ass) to get out of the house this morning...

I forgot my cell phone.

I also can't dial an outside number from my classroom line.

I can't check my web-mail from district computers (its only a matter of time before they block blogger on me, as well)...

and my carrier pigeon is out with the flu.

if you, dear reader, or anyone you know is trying to get in touch with me (a little to the left, please.)...

my bad.

voila!

I'm having a much better day.

I spent 40 minutes picking an outfit.
rolled in late.
ate my breakfast with the monkies waiting outside the door.
put the smack down on 'em.
set them up in groups to work (read: leave me THE HELL alone).
opened the windows.

it's only 78-80 in here, now.


MUCH better.


ps. I decided to treat myself to a fantastical meal tonight. I'm making quinoa, tilapia and squash. this shitty diet nonsense stops NOW.

now, I say.

*throws out the snickers wrappers*

crud

we had a yicky day.

climbing, food, sex, ibuprofen.

nothing seemed to help.

we're calling it a night and checking out.





...maybe trying sex, again, first...

some days...it just isn't worth it.

yesterday I was kicked, bitten and spit on by a (let's face it....crazy as a shit house rat) 3 year old. he called me a dirty fish bitch. nice one.

his mother sat and did nothing.

I didn't hit him.

then there're my two doozies in the classroom.

several 3 page notes home about my male harbinger of doom netted me a 90 minute phone call with mom last night...

and the same fucking behavior today.

awesome.

my little angel female star student is proving to be somewhat more of a problem for me.

this one...accused me of kicking her. mom came to school with her earrings already off...ready to fight. fortunately, the vp had my back and psuedo-diffused the situation.

I left mom a phone message (no response. hmmm...) and spoke to vp, guidance counselor, jesus mary and joseph about it. the initial thought was that I'm in the clear...

then she started drawing me.

wolves, sharks, ghosts and ghouls all ripping my soul out.

she called me a dog. a bitch. a fish (?) and drew lions chasing me.

on a good day she'll draw me 15 0r 20...one or two of them good (the lions won't be eating me...just chasing me with smiles on their faces).

on a bad day her entire journal is filled with "Miss Suki suxorz teh anus" type messages.

this one needs help.

a gazillion teachers have offered to back me on all counts. the fact that I didn't kick her (hard enough). the fact that she's disruptive...

and the fact that she's fucking crazy.


there are too many of them like this.

I'm not sure I can help.

I'm tired of being abused.

I wanna go home.

wonder woman (I aint)

with my newly (refound) sense of ability and worth (I was lazy. real lazy.) I've come to (re)realize a few things.

one.

the more I put on my plate....the more capable I become. it seems my only limitation in terms of the sheer sprawl of committment is the number of hours in the day.

and I'm good on six hours sleep.

b.

starting...is the most difficult aspect of any project. just getting my ass in gear. committing. deciding its worth doing...

all the hardest part. I adapt (prepare for assimilation) quickly and work new tasks into my routine pretty easily.

I only stress over them when I'm hormonal.

so all in all...I'm normal 25/30 days.


number eleventy.

my capabilities end JUST shy of making homemade guacamole. I killed two avocados last night. murdered.

it was as if the aperature of hell opened wide and spewed forth a vile green slime into my kitchen...

and I ate it....or at least tried to.

the memory of that taste haunts me. it was like death...in a food processor. it was two bunnies killed at the moment of bunny love climax, then stir fried in horse liver, garnished with pig spleen and topped off with olives (I hate olives something fierce).

to make matters worse: my kitchen exploded in the process. the blender. the food processor. two cutting boards. every knife I own (that's 3, btw). the counters. defleshed pulp everywhere. slices of skin.

horrid.

it gets worse still. I sent oqui on a grocery store run for tortillas to eat my guacamole with....

two bags of chips+no guacamole=rubbing it in my face.

fuck this vegetable shit.

tonight...

I'm making cookies.

pillow talk v11.04

him: it happened again.
me: what happened?


him: I love you more today than I did yesterday. I didn't think it was possible...


me: I'm not complaining.
him: I 'spose not.


me: however, this WILL have to stop at some point
him: yeah. if it keeps up like this...my head'll implode. brains everywhere



me: yeah, we don't want that.
him: nope. we don't want that.

cheddah.

how often do you think about your money (or lack, thereof)?

how important is it to you?


I've been all over the board on money issues.

I grew up poor. I went to college poor. I met a man who wasn't poor and spent five or so years being psuedo-wealthy. I was 22 years old and wearing $400 cashmere sweaters...to nightclubs. lame.

then I grew up, left him, and got a job of my own. I bought a new $30,000 car, was four and a half minutes away from buying a $200,000 house (8 years ago, mind you)...then quit my job and was poor, again.

I spent the next four or five years living with my mother, raising kids (mine and others) and living off of less than $10,000/ year. (during this time I was also kicked out of medical school, dropped out of grad school and managed to amass another 20 or 30k in student loans to add to my already alarming heap).

then I got married. the hub made a decent living, we seemed to always have some cash around, we bought a nice house or two...

and unknowingly racked up another 20 grand in credit card debt (suki's advice: NEVER buy a fixer upper).

now, I'm poor, again.

I don't make alot of money. I don't have any savings. I haven't worked full-time more than 8 months my entire life...

and I'm worried about money.

I always took for granted that I'd have what I need...and I do. but will I when I'm 70? by the time we dig ourselves out of debt (its bad. real bad)...we'll be in our mid 30's with no net worth.

it sucks. we should have a network of investment properties by then...a good headstart on a nest egg and a college fund or two for potential rug-rats.

instead, we'll be working two jobs each for the next three years just to pay off the past. I'm scared of this concept. don't get me wrong...I'm financially responsible. I've got amazing credit (thanks, mark.), I'm frugal beyond all comprehension, and I don't need to spend money to have fun.

however, I've also got a house that I can't afford that won't sell...half of the equity owing to the ex (assuming there IS any)...and I don't want to keep taking the little bit of money HE still has to pay the mortgage.

borrowing against the equity to pay the mortgage makes me uncomfortable.


raise your hand if you're comfortable with your financial position? plant your foot in someone's (someone who has their hand raised, preferably) ass if you're not.

tell me how you got there.

tell me what you'd do.

4 minutes

til my children show up.

is it wrong that I'm sitting here, not so secretly wishing that all of them fell ill?



more to blog later...I've got a doozie in the works.


good days to all!

(^especially me. I don't want to be mean today)

Suki (still feels rotten. HA! not YOU, rob!)

if you have a penis...

stop reading here.

if you have a uterus...my condolences.

you wanna know the only thing on the planet thats actually worse than HAVING my period???

not having it.

more specifically...the process of getting it.

the 'P' in PMS has been driving me to lunacy for the last four days.

FOUR???

motherbitch, it used to be two!!! why is it that as I get older...my stretch of agony increases exponentially?

fuck you, hormones. fuck you hard (mmmm...not a bad idea, actually...)

I've been covered in kid snot and cow poo for days and doing my best to fight off a monster germ. echinacea tea, zinc tablets, multi-vitamins, fresh fruit, vitamin c like its my job, trying to get some rest, hot baths, etc...

then auntie flow starts planning her visit, making reservations, setting up shop and preparing camp....

my strength (and patience) reserve goes to zero...

and voila!

the suki is sick.

I woke up this morning feeling like a rodeo clown. beat up. tired. bruised and looking ridiculous (my "fat pants" are NOT attractive).

I've got 22 kids with four tests tomorrow...I. must. pull. it. together.

we got through language arts (formerly known as "reading"). they seem prepared. if I can make it through "intervention," grammar, recess, math, social studies and dismissal...

I'll put a tick mark on the calendar, get into my jammies and pretend this whole debacle (me going to work peeming) never happened.

...and I'll do so without flipping anyone the bird.

promise.

field trip!

I had some fun. not too much. not too little.

we got lost in the corn maze (we almost had to cheat), I got to hold a puppie. the cats stayed away. the cows licked us (all but the dead one). the bees haraunged us endlessly...

and I, once again, ended a day without hitting a child.

a success.

due to school regulations, me being lazy, and my students being generally hideous (kidding! hispanic children are CUUUUUTE!!!!)...I didn't take my camera on today's excursion to something or other farm...

so feast your eyes on some fakies.

^ this one's for you, Diablito.

I blog because I'm angry.

this is my official fuck PM-motherfucking-S blog.

its a cunt.
a motherless whore.
a flea infested mongrel.

its a barnacle on my back, abdomen and attitude.
its the curse of a not-so benevolent god.

its eve's fucking fault.

its the reason Miss Suki is drinking Saki.
it made three children cry today.

it made me eat twice my daily allotment of calories before dinner.
its making me feel less like going to my second job than I want to murder everyone in sight.

it made me flip the bird to a dude in a work truck...then jump a curb and pedal through the woods to avoid retribution.

it also made me flip him the bird again when I just happened to emerge at the same corner as he.

it made me swear off high heels.
it made me tell a parent, ever so politely (NOT) to keep her son in check.

its making my child hide.
my dogs cower
and my eyes bleed.

it forced me into "comfy" pants...

and then made me hate them.

Its making it hard to remember what I find joy in...

but at least I know it'll be over soon.

If I happened to call your mother a cockjockey or punch your kid in the lip today...

my apologies.

Sincerely,
The Second Side of Suki

ps. I hate you all...but only for today.

...maybe tomorrow, too.

I weigh 120

a buck fiddy with my bike and a full camelbak.

give or take...

and have already eaten 2700 calories today.

it's 2pm.

I'm thinking tapeworm.

hand sanitizer...

and other random thoughts on my 20 minute break.

I work with children. day, night, weekends. all sorts of them. little ones, slightly less little ones, smart ones, smart ass ones, bad ass ones, big ass ones.

all of them...have runny noses. hand sanitizer and I have become uber well acquainted as of late. I smell like a hospital and say 3,978 times a day, "GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH OR MISS SUKI'S GONNA CUT YOUR FINGERS OFF!!!"

I lectured them on MRSA, chickenpox (both confirmed in my district), pinworm, blood butt, and snot noses. I've instituted a strict WASH YOUR CRUDDY HANDS every time you need a tissue policy...

and I've taught them to do so whilst minimizing water consumption.

I also told them that I ride my bike to help the enviroment. they didn't get it. I'm cancelling math (think the school board'll mind??? hehehe) and instead schooling them on the hideousnesses (<---thats a word. I said so) of a petroleum based economy...and taking them to a farm tomorrow to get dirty.

how lucky am I? I get to sub for a field trip.

can I get a woot?

can I also get gay men to stop hitting on my man?

excuse me, sir. yes, I KNOW he's cute...but he isn't a cock smoker. kindly get your hand off his ass.

thank you.

yesterday (I told you this would be random) the O and I had to bail on a night of climbing with some of my favorite peeps. we both just had SOOOO much work to do. I have a ginormous meeting this afternoon for one of my shelter kids. seems the little whackjob has taken to kicking pregnant teachers, asking other students to suck his dick, beating the hell out of anyone in sight...

and he's only six.

this is a mixed bag for me. I HATE that this kid has so many hurdles to overcome...but I actually like the feeling that I'm being useful. benevolent, my ass. apparently, I'm in this for the cozies I get when I help someone out.

suki is selfish.

I get the call outlining his recent transgressions and am asked when I'm available to pow wow. ummm...never. I'm working my ass off, but...ok. tomorrow? I made a few suggestions, expanded the invite list, leveraged a few contacts...

and now a dozen women will meet this afternoon to discuss how to keep this kid out of prison.

the good news...I have a feeling I'll be the one with the greatest number of suggestions on how to get this done. I'm good at that. I can coordinate resources, plan a course of action, tell everyone what they need to hear to get motivated...

then run out the door b/c I'm late for something else.

ha, bitches! pay ME $11/hour for three million dollars worth of stress and you'll get what you pay for...

delegation.

woot.

I decided on this morning's ride to work:

-my very first cold weather riding gear purchase is going to be full finger gloves. oww.
-I'm never taking teacher's manuals home again. they're heavy
-helmet hair suits me
-nothing works up a good morning poo like a ride through the museum gardens

in other (other other) news...oqui surprised me the other night with an inspirational note. the card pictured a little girl leaning against a boulder appearing as though she's holding it up.

I love this man.

he also bought me nutty buddies and a bottle of wine.

I really love this man.


TONIGHT....I make lasagna.

its cold.

I'm not complaining. merely making an observation...


and realizing it may be time for me to supply myself with some cold weather riding gear. I was zipping (yeah, I zipped. it rocked) down a hill yesterday with a brisk wind (right off the water, mind you) smacking me in the grill and I realized:


its cold.

at the tail end of the ride, sun slipping behind the purty treez and stuffz...chugging (yeah. I chugged) my way back up that monster hill, I realized something else:

fuck. its hot.


how doth one dress to ride in the winter?

as for my riding, recently...I'm still puking every other go (are you ok? are you SURE you're ok???), but am kicking some fucking tail on the climbs.

who'd'a thunk it? I can ride up hills.

you hear that, universe???

I hate it like the dickens (i REAALLLY hate it)...but I can do it. I can climb...

on my bike and not just with a rope.

I. can. climb.

in fact...I climb so well (by MY standards, mind you) that I'm going to reward myself...

with (you guessed it)...

CHOCOLATE!

one beat words.

the O and I have a game. we speak with words with one beat and no more. we got the kid to do it, too.

it can be hard to do at times. yet, we keep with it.

try to ask for you food in a place where you pay to eat....and it gets rough. you can't get the things with the grooves that need the sweet stuff on top and not look like a tool.

I really love the round white plants with starch when they mash them...but those are hard to get, too.

this can go on for hours at times. it gets to be a thing you can't quit.

I don't think you should start.

though I doubt you have a choice, now.

ha, fools!

granogue...unclothed.

fat marc... showing us sexy.

zayne...showing us sexy.

the 'stache...showing us sexy.

rob's nipple...showing me sexy.

diane and I...showing you sexy.

rotten...showing us sexy.

oqui....showing us sexy.

ape shit.

my dogs are going nuts.

medication

my kid is unsupervised and eating snow cones for dinner.

attention

my students are out o' control (after lunch, anyway).

detention

I'm fat. My pants don't fit.

(water) retention

MRSA and chicken pox (yes. chicken pox) broke out in my school.

prescription

I'm stressed and cranky.





...copulation

Hi. My name is Suki...

and all I talk about is work. possibly because...outside of cooking, cleaning, humping (yeah. I said it. jealous?) and sleeping...

it's all I do.

(and nobody wants to hear about me cleaning, I'm sure.)

I was just about to sum up yet another day in prison...errr...school...when I realized:

you guys probably don't give a shit. so I sat here racking my brain over something to write about...

and came up with precisely di-ock.

thusly, for your daily installment of life according to suki, I'm going to grace you with as many one syllable words as I can think of that mean (or imply) to have sex.

1. fuck
2. scromp
3. bone
4. hump
5. shag
6. twist
7. screw
8. nut
9. hit
10. flip
11. spin
12. ice
13. hurt
14. nail
15. tag
16. do
17. kill
18. bang
19. poke
20. toss
21. lay
22. sack
23. wank (<----does sex alone count?)
24. slide
25. bag
26. smash
27. freak
28. grind
29. bump
30. bend
31....



a little help here, guys?

I thoroughly dislike children today

prescription: alcohol

I'm in yet another learning support classroom (that seems to be all this district has) today. 1st and 2nd graders...

and I don' t like them very much just now.

I think it has something to do with the disorganized state the room was in when I got here. "Oh! You mean I DO have a sub??? I guess I better bring the kids back." they had been split between multiple classrooms. some had eaten. some hadn't. most missed their speech/english language learner support teachers. they arrived at different times...

and all of them had to pee.

add to that mixture a classroom assistant with ZERO desire to be here (I think she was looking forward to the afternoon off until I got here)....and you've got yourself one unruly bunch of monkies.

a class like this coming on the heels of yesterday's debacle (they pulled the bait and switch on me. brought me in for one class then pawned the small headed and large fisted ree's on me) leads me to several conclusions.

1. I like chocolate (ok. I knew that already, but whatev. its my blog. shut yer pieholes).
2. I need a day off.
3. I want a cosmo.
4. Hitting is NEVER ok (I knew that one, too. I'm just reaffirming)

all that being said...tomorrow I'm starting my longest stretch of full time days yet this year.

I sho hope I don't kill me no childrenz.

oh yeah...I forgot

we made love on the balcony yesterday.

in broad daylight.

30 feet from the street.

the dogs were watching.

I'm thinking we're gonna have the Oquipah shave that beard after all...

into one of these:

granogue.

I'm moving there.

who else is in?


went to do some hardcore, elite, digging deep spectating this weekend.

had a ball.

I saw a cross race for the first time (ow. it looks like it hurts). saw wes and amy race for the first time. met sam and meg in person. hung with buddy and rachel. caught up with mark and the monkey. ran into dieter and did some grab-assing with rotten rob. (I'm not going to talk about me trying to fix the kids' race for my homeboy on the redline. nope. I'm not going to talk about that at all....)

the weather was amazing the scenery was gorgeous (dahling) and my ass...as usual...

fantastic. (KIDDING!!!! I have a ghetto booty and I think we all know it by now)

sam did some great work for HERA. the winner of the raffle, very graciously, donated their winnings back to the cause. good stuff.

meg said I was pretty (and looked surprised to do so). I told her she's an awful liar but made her hug me anyway.

wes forgot how to shift ;-)

rob's nipple tasted funny.

someone handed me a PBR.

rachel told Oqui the beard HAS TO GO! (and also pointed out the gray in it) we almost had to arm wrestle. that man's beard is teh hawtness.

amy rode hard and looked good doing it.

the monkey and faticus showed me how to scrum and cheer at the run-up (guess who taught what).

I counted 43 porn star mustaches...

and Kim and frank managed to elude me.

(they'll pay for that.)


besides a great time and a fun outing...I got one other thing from watching those races...


I went for a ride the next day, and rode my little heart out. I pretended I was racing. (I also pretended that I wouldn't be lapped 8 minutes in). I pedaled up hills I've never even considered before...

I did it in granny gear.

but I did it.

I think I'll go watch another race this weekend, too.

I feel fucking fabulous.

I'm tired as hell.

I'm working two underpaid and under-appreciated jobs.

I'm broke.

My face is full of zits (why the hell IS that???).

My booty is too big...

yet I feel fucking fabulous.

for the first time in a gazillion years I feel productive. I'm teaching future muggers and car-jackers (just a guess) during the day and acting as a parenting counselor to homeless women at night.

in other words...I'm running around like a ree, constantly covered in boogers...and finally...

finally...feeling like I'm making a contribution. (not to mention feeling like I can own a checkbook again. yay. I'm (re) grown up)

the teaching is frustrating, tiring, all but charity work...and is absolutely by far THE single most rewarding thing I've ever done (outside of squeezing out a pup 12 years ago).

I figured it out. I'm good at it. I have ZERO intention of pursuing it as a career, (Hi. Welcome to burnout. Here's your Bloody Mary)...

but for now... it doesn't suck.

I'm dragging my over-tired, sleep deprived ass out of bed every morning feeling competent, self-assured and totally hot (at least the 5th grade boys think so).

two teachers last week even inadvertently complimented me.

teacher one: she looks artsy.

teacher two: well, she sure is a snazzy dresser, isn't she?

ha! those two statements alone earned me 43 points. the kids tell me they love my shoes/hair/shirt/bag (a quarter at goodwill), or that I'm "ill cool" or "mad chill" all the time...

but when a fellow teacher calls me artsy...

I know I'm home.

speaking of home...I'm never there. so if you wanna catch up with me, I'll be the harried looking one with pigtails and a headscarf running down the street with a large mug of tea in my hand.

ps. while sam schooled me in the ways of safe blogging, and told me NEVER to tell where I'm GOING to be...only where I've been...

for those of you who are interested...I'm super excited to say I'll be at the:

race tomorrow.

the one on the:

estate.

trying to be cool enough to hang out with some of these guys:

you guys suck.

I used to feel like people read this blog.

there was commenting. e-mailing. the occassional, "OH! so YOU'RE suki!" at the gym or whatnot...

now, you've grown complacent my weary readers. (and no. I WILL NOT accept responsibility for this...regardless of whether or not my blog has been sucking horse dong)

you (plural) need to make it up to me. inspire me.

I want flowers. candy. baked goods and cash donations PRONTO, punks!

pics. revisited. again. another time. last one. I swear it.

(some of you might know this ^ guy)

ella no espanol

seriously...

I've gotta learn spanish.

I'm currently functioning as an ELA Resource Room teacher (ie. traveling bi-lingual tutor) at an urban elementary school....and am getting my ass handed to me.

a 45lb peanut looked at me in earnest yesterday and said with an accusing look, "ella no espanol."

she was mad. she was trying her damnest to tell me something. probably the equivalent of "miss. I like your shoes" when she realized...

I wasn't catching a lick of it.

I was fortunate enough to have two six year old "translators" to help me muddle through the madness. I told them to tell the class that by no means was I going to attempt to teach them enlgish...

they were, instead, going to teach me spanish.

yeah. they taught me spanish alright.

I can now tell your mother to tie my shoes and your daddy to kiss my *@%#@.


dolls. absolute dolls.

I'm sooo gonna learn this language and teach them a thing or two....



hopefully addition and phonics.