la musica

I'm packing.
the hub is wallpapering.
the kid was surfing.

I've got the disc changer downstairs rocking out Lauryn Hill, LL Cool J, couple of old school mixes and Dido (I know. I know...Dido).

the hub is on his 83rd repeat of his new Jack Johnson cd.

and the kid is watching Akon videos on-line.

what you hear depends on where you stand. I should trump them all and plug the changer into the house wiring. ha!

my tea's stone cold I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
the morning rain clouds up my windows, but I can't see at all.
and even if I could it'd all be gray, but your picture on my wall...

wonder how much extraneous power we're burning up b/c we can't agree on music?

and I'm off...again.

man, do I need a new superhero pose, or what?

tomorrow morning will find me on my way to rumney, nh to get my climb on.

not the painful kind on a bike that involves my quads screaming for mercy (wait. they do that on the flat parts, too...)...this climbing involves rocks, the part of my body that actually is in shape, a rope, and occassionally some success in reaching the tiz-op.

I'm not sure what level I'm leading at these days (or ever, for that matter). If I bang out a good number of 5.9's on lead I'll be content.

If I lead a 5.10 I'll shit myself. twice.

once out of excitement...and once just for fun.

10's on top-rope are no big whoop. in west virginny I can usually flash up to a 10b...work c's and d's. I'm curious as to the grading in rumney. 10's may be WAAAAAAAAY out of my league. I guess we'll just see.

as per my last (ass) post...I'm quite obviously not in tip top shape. my mental game has been shot to hell, too, since I got pneumonia. I over-worked myself prior...now I'm not working enough (for fear of blowing a lung?). I haven't been climbing at my peak for a few months now...

I'm hoping to (can anyone tell me how to do that cool strike through thingy?) I WILL rectify this situation in New Hampshire.

I will climb like the wind. rock solid. wreck shop. make myself proud...and work my partner to death.

sorry, oqui.

I'm on a mission.


see you kids in a few!

Hugs, Kisses and Candy Bars,
The Suki

I have a ginormous ass. (aka PMS strikes again)

a lil' rant of mine today on a climbing forum. well...because I'm pissy.

her:

Quote from: rose on June 19, 2007, 12:24:32 PM
Also, I have a few friends that own houses in Rumney, and feel I have a different perspective. Rumney is a town. It is not like down south at Miguel's where you can get rowdy. Or a Del and Marty's where climbers are welcome. Or a Rogers where coffee is dropped off at your camp site.I agree it isn't all the things you mentioned, but there might be reason why a climbers locale hasn't been erected before. The Calm Post will most likely offer that connection you seek.

me: (10 days later hehehe)
Rose,

I was sent a link to this thread by a friend, being as we're heading to rumney tomorrow...and we were hoping to find a nice little pesto-y/hummus-y type place to eat...and voila'!

And while I realize this is probably all old hat, now...I have to admit, though, I had an immediate and intense reaction to a few of your statements about a 'miguel's type place' showing up in rumney. In particular that you have a few friends that own houses in there.

Cool geological features...such as rock faces, boulders, mountains, rivers, etc..are in short supply. What I don't think this planet has a shortage of, however...is people. While I feel for your friends' property values (I happen to own a home myself)...I couldn't possibly sympathize with them if their town were to turn into rock climbing, dirty sandal wearing, hippy central. The rock is THERE...the homes could've been built ANYWHERE.

I once lived on beautiful little main street america. quiet town. great place to raise kids...also home to the twice annual motorcycle hill climb. several weeks a year our town was OVER-RUN by obnoxiously loud motorcycles sans mufflers...and hordes of leather clad enthusiasts. twice a year I was annoyed to high heaven by the noise and congestion...but twice a year I suffered quietly.

The hill they climbed...was there. Who on Earth was I to begrudge them their (however annoying to me and loud as all get out) communion with nature?

No one. That's who. If I didn't like the environment I chose to live in...that was nobody's fault but my own. I even broke down and went to the events.

They were happy...so I enjoyed it for them.

(granted I don't know your background, but) I feel that you could at least offer the same consideration to your FELLOW climbers. Holy cow, woman. You sound like you don't even LIKE those you choose to recreate with. Climbers' advocate, much?

I haven't been a climber too terribly long, but I can say that in my year and a half...and several dozen trips, I've come to realize this much:I like climbers.

On the whole we're ethical, in touch with our surroundings, conscious (and considerate) of others...and know how to have a good time. While I'll agree that we're a huge bunch of port-a-potty slaughtering poop factories (we eat alot of granola)...I wouldn't have a problem with a miguel's opening up in MY backyard.

hell...if I had a crag and a few acres...I probably WOULD.

I mean...come on..how far does the sound of a 2am streaking carry, anyway?

and a picture of my ass:

(I deleted the rear and front views...too much for one day-and my pants)

and ^ this, folks...is why I decided to buy a bike. climbing works wonders for my (killer, if I do say so) arms and back...but doesn't do diddly-piss for the (yicky pooey icky gross blecht) ghetto booty and (newly acquired) love handles.



fuck. n. a.

why didn't somebody tell me I was so god-awful tubby???

I hate you all...

especially you, rose.

[/snarl]

my mom read my blog (and other news)

I get a phone call this evening.

ONE BAJILLIONTH, HUH?!?!?!?

why you little ungrateful sack of *insert string of suki's momma's sayings here*

so I told her to create an account and retaliate.

look out, peeps. my momma's coming...and is she is CUR-RAZY. (quite obviously. normal folk don't go raising kids like me).


in other news I wanted to kill the husband fifteen thousand and seventy-three times today...until we shut the windows and doors and turned the ac on (and went to wendy's. I should tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the rootbeer/vanilla frosty float...err, truth.)

friendly advice:

if you have a significant other...and want to retain them...never ever ever. ever. never. (ever) attempt to work together on a home-improvement project. when its hot. we were stripping the old wallpaper off the studio walls...because of the sanding and dust we turned off the ac and opened up the balcony door and studio windows.

instant oppression.

within thirty-four POINT six seconds I threw a marker at his head...only b/c I couldn't reach the screwdriver.

he's a lucky man. I'm a pretty good shot.

needless to say...he's now in there (and has been for several hours) all by himself repapering the joint. only fair. after all, he earlier told me "it's MY room. MY room. if you don't like it, you can get out."

yeah. I almost became a fairly wealthy widow today.

I'll go back in a few, help him tear and crinkle and maybe bring him a cup o' tea...

cause the air conditioners back on...

and I kinda like him a little bit, again.

REVEALED!!!

the major secret.

(yet another) boy who has a crush on the kid had a secret. he shared it with the others in their group. boys and girls.

betrayed. the kid felt left out and double-crossed.

whispers. glances. knowing giggles.

finally...in a moment of (weakness?) clarity and trust...the truth came out.

he has hair on his ding-a-ling.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

we're totally moving to the top of a mountain...and I'm getting one of these:

yesterday I:

-started giving fellow volvo drivers the jeep wave

-begged the kid back from her dad, stole the niece, made them both wear dresses and took them to my mother's house to celebrate her one bajillionth birthday. dev and alan showed up with sammy. bringing the total number of females in that kitchen to seven, thereby ensuring an obnoxious time. I miss living with them :(

-googled myself. maiden name. married name and (all) my alias(es). surprisingly...the alias(es) are way more exciting

-went for the big hair (yes. I have a photo. no. I don't think I'll post it)

-finished off the casserole

-was forced by the teenage contingency ("doood. seriously. you won't believe how hot he is! for realz, yo. He even gave me chocolate. that's mad hot.") to find pictures of Zayne on-line.

-made faces out the front window at everyone who passed by for an hour and a half

-met "Jakey" the super cute, shaggy blonde boy who has a MAJOR crush on my 11 year old and managed not to castrate him. (her father and step-father are displeased with my restraint)

-accidentally gave dev crab dip...then four benadryl

-got home by 11 and was out twenty minutes later.

a good day.

opposite of yummy.

I spent the morning reading "they survived on human flesh" the tale of the uruguayan rugby team who ate their dead teammates after crashing in the andes mountains.

no big whoop, I thought. I could do it.

then I made my sammich.


needless to say...the hub will have a nice fat yummy sammich awaiting him when he wakes up...


and I'm still really hungry.

today I:

-applied for three jobs. one I don't want. one I know I won't get and another that's a whopping six hours a week.
-fought with Cingular (the NEW AT&T) for 38 minutes for a $92 credit
-got an email about the alaska gig. its still tentative
-chatted with the d-ray both on the phone and on-line (simultaneously?)
-got to round nine in chuzzles
-set a personal goal to bid on a minimum of one dozen items on e-bay this evening
-remembered that last night I heard a mother say to her small child "quiet! or I won't love you anymore"
-baked a slamming chili-cornbread casserole
-couldn't fit into my pants OR bra
-decided not to eat anymore casserole
-hit the rock gym to climb off some calories and boredom...only to find no super awesome cyclist peeps there :(
-passed three vehicles at one time...nearly shitting myself in the process
-remembered the car accident yesterday and slowed the fuck down
-saw noah, jerry and simon and didn't hug any of them (hmmmm...)
-renamed my dogs shit-for-brains and fuck-nuts (they were previously dumbfuck and ass breath)
-got a message from the hub stating, "hi. it's mark"...like I couldn't tell
-played the same song on repeat for 42 minutes before I realized it
-watered the plants (<----big deal. very big deal. I was quickly approaching a plant disposal crisis)
-missed the kid like crazy.

six more days of her "week at daddy's" to go...

anyone wanna make sucky crafts, watch stupid movies and argue non-stop with me?

crime scene

wear your helmet.

the area immediately surrounding my house was turned into an all out crime scene for six hours this evening. it was car v. motorcycle. the car containing three 19 year old girls and one 16 year old one...the motorcycle being ridden by a 25 your old man.

the young man was (it saddens me TREMENDOUSLY to think that there will be lots of was'ing about this guy in the days, weeks, months, years to come) breathing when he left the scene. those who saw it prayed for his quick and painless death.

wear your helmet.

witnesses said he was driving like young kids often do on motorcycles. weaving in and out of traffic. pushing the limit. going too fast. getting a thrill. as I type he's either already dead or fighting the battle of his life...and countless others will be affected forever by what happened in a split second tonight.

PLEASE wear your helmet.

I awoke from a nap this afternoon a half hour late for a family volleyball game...ran outside, probably about to drive too fast and too carelessly myself, and saw a car...with a motorcylce underneath it. the girls in the care were unscathed physically...the biker had just recently been removed from the scene. my gut dropped. I've seen this before. I've NEVER liked how this looks.

as a small child, maybe five or six years old, there was a motorcycle accident down the street from us. as a minister AND a motorcyclist...my dad ran right down. in the confusion...I managed to slip through the police cars, on-lookers, etc...

and watched my first person die.

when I was older, still a motorcyclist, my father took my mother for an afternoon ride...planning on being home in an hour or so. six hours later we got the call from the hospital from my father. "I'm ok, but your mom is hurt pretty bad."

seeing that motorcycle lying on the ground. seeing the cracked windshield. seeing the blood stained cement...took me back 25 years. watching a living, breathing person slip away. seeing their limbs stop moving, their eyes go dull and almost being able to actually see their spirit slip away. it took me back 18 years to my mother's battered body in traction...wondering if she was ever going to be ok and if she hurt real bad.

I talked to the driver. I talked to her friends. I talked to her father. I told her...no matter what she does, she can't blame herself. It was a dangerous intersection. It could happen to me. It could happen to anyone. As long as she knows that she did what she was supposed to...if she drove cautiously, checked carefully and paid attention...she's not emotionally response for his death (quality of life?)...

yet I know its not true. all of those girls will forever feel responsible for what happened. "Was I going too fast? Was I talking too loudly? Did I distract her? I shouldn't have asked her to go back to get my phone..."

I came home this evening at almost 11 o'clock to find the car still there. the motorcycle still there. fire trucks and cranes lighting the area. crime scene specialists everywhere...

trying to recreate what happened.

making me sad and scared.

ensuring I won't sleep tonight.

I don't believe in God...but I'll be doing my equivalent of praying for all of those kids tonight...
and probably every time I pull out of my parking spot.

and I know...I'll never make that left turn, again.

it would appear...

that I've earned myself a mountain biking nickname.

We did the short version of the loop surrounding Blue Marsh today. We cut over at Church Road (saving ourselves 7 miles of hell, from what I understand)...but promptly got lost on side trails and racked up (I'm guessing) another 3 or 4...

long. excruciating. miles.

I watched mile marker 26 pass (minus 7 for the lazies)...and watched. and watched. and watched and sobbed and ached. and watched...and didn't see a trail marker for about 35 minutes.

yeah, we're goombas.

all told it was about 25. my mind and body...

were prepared for 22. the last leg of the ride was sheeer unadulterated torture. I didn't ACTUALLY cry...

but I wanted to.

bad(ly).

*cries now just thinking about it*

about 6 miles in I gave up on climbing.

forever (and ever and ever and...). I took my bike for a nice lazy stroll up the rest of the climbs racking up a whopping 33 1/2 day ride time. awesome. I stopped to eat three times. I stopped four to pee. I stopped twice to check my phone. I stopped once because a rabid groundhog growled at me (the husband said it farted. I think not!). I stopped to tie my shoe. I stopped to read a RedBook. I stopped to commune with nature. I even stopped once because I was tired...

at one point...I had to stop because (and here's where the nickname comes in...) my nose was all cloggy-like. I went for the snot rocket technique...

and missed.

having witnessed the entire operation, my husband has now dubbed me "Captain Snotty"...

and has henceforth named my left foot "the boogie foot."

I wasn't the only one getting a new handle. the husband is now to be referred to exclusively as monkapotamus ("I'm gonna ride it!")

and that's about all there is to that.

Looks like this may require surgery...

the husband thinks he popped a nut. I got the point of my seat up my ass when my tights got caught. that groundhog found our address...and a real biker laughed at us.

I'll eat your babies

when we reached the crest of the last hill I tried to shift into something a little more peddle-able when I heard the husband declare "that's it. I'm done peddling for the day!"

good call. eff shifting. we coasted "home".

upon reaching the parking lot I sprawled myself about as flat as a suki can get...and laid there. immobile...for a really long time.

the hub looked at me and said "well, I guess I'm not getting YOU to do this, again"

I was all like: what you talking 'bout turkey??? just cause it was hard (and hurt alot) doesn't mean I didn't love it.

yeah. it was hard. it hurt alot.

I loved it.

where my witches is at?

today is the summer solstice.

...which means last night was the witching night. (eye of newt. wing of sparrow)

its a tradition with the women in my family to convene on the solstice, eat plentifully (ow), drink up all the liquor we can find (double ow), make fire and commune with the universe. last night...

we initiated the youngings. there were more "virgin" margaritas, coladas and daquiries floating about last night than denim skirts and jelly bracelets at a roller rink (am I the only one REALLY upset that the 80's are back? I mean, come on...the fashion, music and hair all sucked the first time around and I don't know 'bout you...but I am WAAAAY too young to have seen that shit return just yet. where was I...oh, the spiderwebs).

the girls (11 and 12) were told that they were not children last night...but fellow women, full members of our little society and would be treated accordingly.

ha. fricking. ha! that lasted all of seventeen minutes, due to the little dorks gorging themselves on fruit roll-ups and juice boxes. while I'm all for encouraging independence...I KNEW...

if one of them hurled. grown, self-assured women, my ass...I was cleaning it up.

once we got their eating under control (only b/c my mother just started sneaking it to them on the sly) we got our witching underway. I collected a spider's web and caught its inhabitant in a matchbox...mostly to freak the kids out (heheheh I'm evil).

they were all "wha....wha...what are we gonna do with that???" then I showed them the cauldron.

again with the evil auntie suki.

we made up for my torturous teasing by allowing them each the use of words "damn it" all evening. my holy god was my kid hilarious! I cuss like a sailor on leave, but my child will find her death at the end of a four-letter word. but since grammy gave the ok on the d-bomb...the kid was marching her narrow azz around all night lending more than her fair share of psuedo-profanity to the event. I had to bite my tongue more than on(c)e (hundred times) to keep from giving her a tongue lashing. howev...I was in the spirit and rolled with the punches (and rum).

our actual goal for the evening (besides instruction in the proper use of profanity) was to bring about communication and clue them in to their real powers. my mother taught them how to build a fire, we all wrote our wishes/prayers/concerns/thanks/requests to the universe and burned them cathartically (my kid, surreptitiously, threw one in that said "DAAAAMN IT! that felt good").

then we sat around talking about our gifts and powers. the kid, we've determined is socially gifted. she's like an equalizer for all situations. her calm puts people at east. the niece, we've decided, is gifted with great attitude and awesome perspective. things roll off her back that would have me angry-blogging for hours. my mother, the whackjob, still talks to dead people...

and I...read minds.


in fact, I know what you're thinking RIGHT now...

you're thinking I'm retarded.

2 dogs

1 grape.

45 minutes.

that's how long the entertainment lasted. I'm not sure what it was about this particular grape. they've had grapes before...

but this one. this one was magical. they took turns chasing it around the house, pawing at it, picking it up with mouths, paws, I think they even used a nostril once or twice...tossing it into the air...then chasing/stalking/pursuing it again.

one would fall out due to exhaustion...then the other would pick up the slack. that grape was tortured. (I, however, was quite entertained until...)

one of them...

finally ate it.

found

remember the "compromising position" I found myself photographed in while at the New River Rendezvous?

welp, Joel (e-master flex) finally found those shots.

hahahha

now I want him to find the shots taken from behind...

^ random dude. I think he got it.



^ my personal fav. full extension. yeeeeeeah, boyeee!

oh me. oh my.

kinda scurred to mention it just yet...being as its in the formative stages and VERY prone to falling through...

but I figured I could use all the good mojo anyone can muster.

I'm trying to spend a month in alaska guiding (literally and, well...other literally) troubled youth.

I know my experience with teens is sufficient (hell. its what I DO)...but I'm not so sure about my outdoor experience. I've DONE everything they're asking (repeatedly)...I've just never guided before.

keep your fingers crossed for me. 30 days "in the field" might be just what the suki ordered to get my head on straight...and my whine-o-meter down.

sounds like {my}...tastes like chicken

so I hit stony{ed} ridge yesterday with the oke-o-matic to meet up with matty and co. and...wouldn't you know it...

just happened to come across some earth loving hippy kid rock climbers (who'da thunk it?) who like to {thing that goes with fire}. being the ever social, lead-following, completely susceptible to peer pressure (I SWEAR. I DID NOT ask for it. not once) fool that I am...

got super duper {opposite of low}.

now I'm certainly not a frequent flyer of the {you eat cereal out of this} airlines, but I'd like to think that I know my way around both good and bad {thing you pull from your garden}.

I do not.

I was two {magic dragon}s in and totally {kinda like rock}'ed...off my ghetto boot-hay.

I asked a compadre if he was able to climb. his response: I don't know, man...I'm kinda {also not low}. My immediate response was...doesn't matter. I can't belay. I'm {kinda like trash}'ed, anyway.

so we sat...and sat...ate some carrots and combos. drank a lot of water. threw some stones into the abyss. had a long philosophical debate with the dog...and sat some more.

for the day we drove over three hours, hiked about 40 minutes, spent a trillion dollars on tolls, gas and goodies (we stopped twice to eat. ha!), and did two climbs.

we have hereby and forever decided that we will leave any and all {rhymes with stuff, but starts with a p}'ing for AFTER the climb time.

so we can get {opposite of low} on some rock...and not flat on our asses.

excerpts from the super secret suki journal

vacation log

stardate 06.09.07 2100 hours

"sitting in a tiny room in an even tinier cottage listening to Bayl and Flora bitch each other into oblivion. I just heard myself say "Girls! If I hear one more word out of either of you, the game is OVER! Either figure it out peacefully or put it away!"

what awesome advice. if you can't make it work w/o fuss...

LEAVE IT ALONE"

06.10.07 1200 hours (ish)

"I'm digging a really big hole" every trip to the beach begins with that intention...and usually ends with someone buried to the neck...

with big sand boobies. Bayl already declared that the hole shall happen. purposeful walk. large shovel in hand. three minutes later, after having paced out a 7x7' area to be dug...shovel to sand, sand crab found. digging ceased and crab discovery began...poor crabs.

there's something so pure about having sand in your crotch (I mean toes). Reminds me, yet again, that I should be writing. Instead...I'm going to read.

Consider it...market research"

06.14.07 0345 hours

DONE

Get me the hell out of here. If there is an opposite, an antonym for motivation...this is it. Frustration. no sleep. confinement. annoyance. control = I'm DONE. I'm packing.

the weather SUCKS. the cabin is small. the voices grate. six days and a suki is done. fin. caput. I'm packing, mofos. you best get in the goddamn car.

asking me to stay another dreary day is pointless. I'm going to make you all suffer. I can't actually understand you being selfish enough to even consider it when I OBVIOUSLY feel very strongly about this. I'm ready to fucking leave. let's go.

go.
go.
go.

...did I mention how fucking badly I want to go home???


being in close quarters like this (with extremely annoying mofos). enforced inactivity. Making A Suki Krazy.

I want to go hit a crazy hard trail. Send a super tough route or problem. Crush a 10b on lead. Fucking challenge myself.

!!!FUCK!!!

I want out..."

soooo....

that about sums MY trip up. enjoyed the kid tremendously. did NOT, however, enjoy the remaining company after three days of the constant power struggles, incessant whining, passive aggressive bullshit, and control. control. control.

I learned my lesson.

NEVER go on outings:

a. in one car
b. with "friends" for more than three days
c. with fat, whiny, spoiled, clingy, conniving, annoying children.

*sigh*
I am sooooo gosh darned glad to be home.

I climbed out some frustration last night. got some sleep. made mad noogie. and rode today.

boy, did I ride today. this was the hardest I've ever ridden.

ever. (being that I've gone on a total of four mountain bike rides my entire life...interpret this as you will)

I'm still a pud. I still rock my brakes like they're going out of style. I still REALLY need straps, clips, baskets (something) for my pedals...

but I had a fucking ball. I rode so fast my eyes teared up, I couldn't see di-ock. and kept riding mad fast anyway.

I had to. Oqui was kicking our anuses on the downhills.

thanks, Oqui. you made me love this whole crazy bee-sickle-ing (as the hub calls it) thing a shit-ton more today.

consider me...inspired.

now if we could (all) just stop blowing tires and carrying our bikes back...

and I'm off

my super man pose------->

I'm off to the beach with the kid, a friend, another kid and not nearly enough money.

I fully intend to have a god-awful time completely relaxing, beach cruising, man-meat watching and eating foods that are nothing but thoroughly awful for me.

I'll return to you, my avid fans and loyal readers *cough, I'm deluded, cough* in about week.

...with sunburn and sand in my cooter.

have a ball ladies and gents!

vhat I doing wrong am?

three rides at blue marsh.

two flat tires.

the hub has now dubbed me queen tire killer...and went out to buy half a dozen new inner tubes.

he says he's gonna look for heavy duty ones because, apparently...

I have too much junk in my trunk for just the regular type.

roots

did a two hour ride at blue marsh today.

and I went over roots! (some more successfully than others)

almost slid off the edge once into the stream down near the stillage basin after whacking my pedal into a tree...and while I saw my limbs (literally) flash before my eyes...I wasn't scurred.

not even for a second.

liberation!

after that near miss I found I was WAAAY more confident on the downhills. I still can't climb for shit...but I set myself a goal. there's one hill I tried three times tonight and couldn't make it up...not even once. halfway was my limit.

I'm gonna own its ass by summer's end.

I found out that I've got decent (rock climber's) balance so I'm not to shabby at keeping it together over sissy baby chicken obstacles. I can maneuver THROUGH things...just not UP things, quite yet. I also realized that if I shift my gear from the most difficult one (would that be high or low? nobody said the girl was bright)...I can climb an extra three or four inches before stalling. standing completely still. eventually losing my balance. then putting foot to ground.

the hub is really REALLY into this whole mountain biking thing. he used to ride a ton as a kid (I didn't) and is feeling all sorts of nostalgic. he even went so far as to say that mountain biking is going to be for him what kung fu was for me.

whoa.

I'm gonna need to really improve my (lack o') skeels. this boy aint playing.

he's already looking for a fixed gear bike to deck out all hipster style...

to put a license plate under the seat that says "poser."

nice.

I better take up my kung fu again...

to keep him from getting his ass beat.

yay.

I went for a short ride today. found some fun muddy puddles to slip-slide through. bailed on the big root on a hill (and will probably do so for another year or two). ALMOST made it to the top of an itty bitty lil' climby section. (almost)

then I went climbing. led a few. one was a little ballsy for me. had to down climb a bit to clear my head. super cool getting out, though.

I needed exercise...bad.

I feel better now.

sleepy. not bored.

:D

stir crazy chicken?

I am now of the firm opinion that the last day of school should be kept a secret from all those involved and announced suddenly three minutes before the end of the year.

this way...you would avoid teachers (such as myself) pining for the end with 93% of their heart, soul and chi, thus and therefore TOTALLY giving up on teaching...

and kids flipping their collective shits counting down the moments til freedom.

no more of this ice cream and lemonade party bullshit that has them climbing the walls. no more field days that burn and exhaust them only to send them home to finish up three projects and study for finals...

and no more pools opening, garden parties and fairs before the end hath officially come.

my daughter is, at this very moment, pouting like a mofo because she can't go to yet ANOTHER spring-time fun-time event because she still has reading to do...all the while exhausted out of her mind from staying up late last night to finish up a project neglected all weekend (don't look at me. she was at her father's house) for more pool-like pursuits.

three. more. days. for. her...

then summer REALLY begins...and I might not be so bored.


...just annoyed :D

did I mention I'm bored?

I'm also hung-over, too.

this is a good thing...one hang-over typically lasts me about three months. I'll save a bundle (what do two bottles of boone's a six pack of wine coolers and two gin and tonics run these days, anyway?) on booze.

I went through the mail.
Snuggled the dogs.
Read a book.
Ate some cereal.

and decided for the 78th time to write a book.

I'll keep you posted. hourly. photos. anectdotes. testimonials. advertisements.

...all summer long.

aack! eek! and omf'ing gawd!

the school year...it hath ended.

I'm jobless.

woot.

I'm bored.

already.

I'm hungry.

lata.

I MUST be drunk...

cause I just identified with this:

http://music.aol.com/video/big-girls-dont-cry-personal/fergie/1910778

my lord...no more gin fo' me.

actually...I must be REALLY drunk...cause I also identified with this:

http://music.aol.com/video/rock-yo-hips-feat-lil-scrappy/crime-mob/1762949

no more cheap wine, eidah!

and to cap this evening off...a few pics of me with the dog(s) and the new hair.

apparently I'm madhotsexyyouknowyouwantme when:

a. tipsy

I hear bonie chicas are hot, yo.

b. the kid holds the camera

we'll eat your babies.

c. I just whooped hipster ass in piggies (where you going? nowhere.)

does this dog make me look fat?

d. braless.

mommy, is that your nipple?

enjoy!

odd

(today whilst shopping)

julie: dood. your eye looks a little red

I check the mirror and notice its super duper red...with some yellowing in the corner

me: hmm. that's odd. I look a little jaundiced. weird.

three minutes later:

julie: umm...your eye!!!

look back in the mirror and notice a BRIGHT yellow blister type fluid filled sac growing exponentially on my eyeball.

like ^ this...but larger, creepier and more pussy looking

skeeved.

the hub comes to get me (since I can't drive after taking the contact out), we hit all the mall eye docs up...all closed. call my family doc who tells me to put a hot compress on the eyelid to help with discomfort and see an eye doc FIRST thing in the morning.

dood. it's not my eyeLID. it's the official eyeball.

oh?!? did you come in contact with any chemicals? not that I know of...

long story short...I spazzed hardcore for about half an hour til I realized that it didn't hurt and I could still see. I had a hot shower, a benny and some fish.

its no longer fluorescent uber creepy yellow or blown up like a balloon. thank you, kismit. nothing scares the bajeepers out of you like thinking your eyeball is going to pop.

as my niece zayla would say

"its weally fweaky"

I had a dream the other night of a friend's younger brother who died a few years ago of cancer. I never really knew him well...he was, you know...just the kid brother of a girl in my class, but I had a fairly intense dream about his memorial service and some stories I'd heard about him.

then...creepy of all creepiness. I was cleaning up the art room a little bit (ie. shoving shit en masse in already full closets), when something fell out on my foot.

a drawing he had done in fifth grade, matted for an art show.

this made me cry...hard. for alot of reasons. on one hand...its just sad to see someone so bright die so young. this kid was brilliant. then I felt his mother's pain. her children were her life. she was a super duper important person in my life. my mentor. counselor. if it weren't for her I would've never dreamed of even going to college. would've had NO IDEA what my potential was (on second thought...maybe I should DISlike her for giving me the knowledge that I'm an under-achieving slug). then I just plain felt him. after so many years his energy was still on this 6x10 piece of paper. people put off alot of energy in creative pursuits...really pour themselves into their art...but 18 years later? still feeling his vibe to an extent I'm having dreams about him? one little piece of paper shoved in a closet can do that? how DOES that happen?

then I wondered how it was I came to find that particular piece. my biggest concern about cleaning out someone else's classroom has lately been...what do i do with the art? how do I find these people? and lo and behold...geof quite literally fell at my feet.

I've been thinking alot lately about how I know some things I probably shouldn't (zayne can attest to this), how I see some things I really don't want to, and how sometimes I feel so powerless to do anything about it.

I took the drawing to his mother tonight...and couldn't even bring myself to go into the house. I made up a lame excuse, got the hell out of dodge and spent the next hour in my car on the phone with my bestest friend in the whole wide world just...

talking 'bout life.

I'm not doing so great with fat women...

I met a woman today who I instantly disliked. I knew the moment she walked in the door that I was going to hate her ass...all by the sound of her voice.

what does the voice of a mega-cunt sound like, you ask?

well, kinda like an orca...

..but with a hebrew accent.

I was at an old friend's house (sup, lisa?) with the kid, and her kids, and someone else's kids...and even a spare dog...when uber cunt gives her a ring to see what she was up to. the portion of the conversation that I could hear went like this, "well...I have someone over right now. an old friend. haven't seen her in a while...but if you REALLY want to you can bring it over"

so she did. "it" being one of those inflatable backyard pool jobbies. she drags "it" and her 2 year old directly into the backyard and starts giving orders as to its set-up and installation. like I said...I despised her instantly. she had an authoritative air about her (one that seems an awful lot like a lazy opportunistic heffa talking) that made me want to arm-wrestle her for the last hershey's kiss. being as she's israeli (and therefore mandatory military), about two-twenty, and has an obviously large chip on her shoulder...I'm kinda glad I didn't, though.

as much as I love teh choccy...no kiss is worth a manatee eating my arm.

anyway...as heffa-ho-slutty-hussy continues about her business setting up shop in my homegirl's backyard...her daughter happens to step in fresh doggie doo. and THIS is where I KNOW I hate her. instead of doing a single solitary thing about it...even AFTER I point out to her that "little G" (cause her real name is impossible to pronounce or spell) had a run in with a turd, she simply states "lisa'll get it".

oh, damn. I wanna hurt this ho, now. take advantage much? she issued order after order for her overly accommodating hostess and did nothing but sit on her rump the remainder of my stay there. which was...as you can imagine...

rather brief.

not brief enough, though, to avoid a verbal confrontation with Rohine-ba-bohine-ma-mohine. our still super accommodating hostess (sup, lisa?) starts offering up food, beverage,etc. Lisa asks me if Bayl can have a soda to wit I, quite obviously replied "no"

she asks if she can have a diet soda. again with the no.

our resident killer whale takes issue with this, and after staring at me cock-eyed for a few finally busts out with the "I don't mean to be judgemental...but can I ask you a question?"

oh, hell yeah. if it means I get to spar with your ass...judge away, moo-bitty.

she proceeds to condemn my choice to disallow the child even DIET (of all the horrors) soda! (gasp. how dare I). at this point...

I'm soooo laughing on the inside.

I gave her the calm short version of why I find it a poor dietary choice. all of the compounded general purpose not-so-goodness of it and think I've stated my case.

nope. she wants to argue.

she says she thinks I'm stupid, fanatical, etc...and SHE finds nothing wrong with giving it to her two year old and is perfectly comfortable with her choice...at which point our hostess interjects with a "hey, ro. you know suki lost like 15lbs. doesn't she look great?"

ahahahahahahahah

now, I'm laughing on the outside.

all told...before it was over, the sea cucumber defended her choice to smoke, drink soda, be fat, inactive and angry, and push people around all the while I sat eating chips, salsa and drinking some spring water.

hey, lady. I didn't start this convo, nor do I really give a flying fiz-nuck about your poor choices. my decisions for myself and my daughter have absolutely DICK to do with you and in no way, shape or form imply judgement...

until you open your twinkie holster and start a fat-defending (that's something like death-defying, but less effective) debate.

then...then I blog about your fat ass while drinking my nut milk and kale juice.

VIVA LA VEGETABLES!!!