your opinions, please

the hair...

it must to go.

some options include:

super short a la I'm-in-med-school-and-have-no-time...or I'm-a-climber-and-am-really-dirty-in-the-woods-all-summer:



or, slightly longer a la halle-berry-aint-got-nothing-on-me:

cast your votes. it goes down soon...

the problem with pitbulls

its obvious I'm in charge here...

(besides the media misrepresentation, mistreatment, poor breeding and tens of thousands killed in shelters monthly...I'm a huge pitbull advocate and was in rescue, but that's not nearly as much fun to talk about as picking on my own ree's)

is that they are perpetual cuddlers. my two 65-70lb mutts seem to think that momma's lap is the bestest place in the whole wide world to sit.



for this...I blame my husband.



I finally caught on to my lil' bitch cookie's scheme. see...my dogs aren't allowed in bed with me. they're hot. they're bedhogs and they lick each other's junk all night. it would appear, however, that miss cookie has been sneaking her lil arse into bed on the non-hub home nights after I fall asleep.

she's doing so in a super sneaky fashion, as well. instead of being alpha alpha bo balpha like she usually tries to pull (by putting her ass on my head)...she sneaks ever so slyly onto the very tippy tippy most corner of the bed and lies there silent. still. SNEAKY!

are dogs capable of deception? or has she just somehow been conditioned to know that if:

-poppa isn't home
-she waits until I'm having a (moist) dream
-she lies perfectly still
and
-doesn't touch me...

she gets to stay.

she's even learned to jump down in the morning before the HUSBAND comes home...but doesn't bother to move when the KID comes in.

she's either very very smart (doubtful. cookie's what we call "special")...or I sleep like a log.


either way...I'm taking suggestions for something devious.

this heffa must pay!!!

fiddlesticks

this is the only "f" word I'm allowed to use for the next few days because I absolutely, positively, 100% used my quota of the f-bomber.

i got pulled over...again.

you cannot BEGIN to imagine my fury and tirade.

it went a little something like this (like this).

me: *heading home from quarry. following guy in front of me at respectable distance. see lights behind me. begin punching steering wheel*

cop pulls me over. continue punching steering wheel.

cop approaches car.

me: quick! if you go now you can still catch the guy in front of me.
cop: we got him, too.
me: fuck. FUCK! jesus christ. fuck, fuck, fuck (cont...)
him: *funny look on face. not sure whether to draw weapon*
me: just do it. pull your gun. if you don't shoot me, I will. *pointed to most recent ticket still tucked under visor* see this? I left this here as a warning. I was driving slow. I ride my bike to work...seriously...I can't win. just fucking shoot me.
cop: *still not enamored with my colorful language but beginning to crack a smile*
me: this isn't funny. do you think this is funny? FUCK!!!!!

...more of same for 12.67 more minutes...

amidst all the profanity, it comes out that I work at AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, of all places. to wit he replies, yet again...with more laughter.

my phone rings I'm all "do you mind if I get this?"

he's all, "no, go ahead"

I'm all, "um, can't talk now CAUSE I JUST GOT FUCKING PULLED OVER AGAIN" and resumed banging the head on the steering wheel.

then it was time to hand over my license, registration, etc...I was just like "dude. I don't have it."
he got all concerned looking. "you mean you DON'T HAVE a license?"...

"yeah, I lost it"
"this is not good"
"no. I didn't LOSE it lose it...I just...lost it"
"phew. that would've been bad"
"no shit."

so I give him the registration card (in the hub's name, of course) and he was like...well, what's your name...flipping it over to write my info down...

where he found it already written.

IN ANOTHER COP'S handwriting. again with his laughter. he was all "you REALLY do have bad luck, don't ya?"

long story short...the guy commiserated with me. told me to fight it. he'd reduce it. said I had bad luck, yada yada, tried to touch my boob (kidding)...

and get this...actually told me to buy a scrambler.

I was all "but OFFICER! isn't that illegal???"

he was like "yeah, but how will we know if we never catch ya?"

word.

I let loose another couple of fucks. dented my forehead a few more times on the steering wheel and vowed to see homeboy soon at the hearing.

I immediately called my climbing homie and was like...

just so you know, if you ever wanna climb with me, again...

you're gonna have to pick my ass up cause I'm never driving again as long as I live.

oh, fiddlesticks!

eff you, exxon

I rode my bike to work today...and then home, again.

the "there" part was relatively straight forward and fairly painless...

the getting home, however, made a suki hurt.

can I get an "ow?"

it's a little under four miles through the city (ghetto, actually). uphill. both ways. through the snow. with no shoes....and only one tire.

or at least that's how it felt
hehehe

I actually didn't run into any problems other than me having squishy useless rock-climbing legs, and the occassional left turn.

how DO you manage those, anyway? I almost got squished twice today...both during the perpetration, planning and execution of a left turn.

I think I'm gonna wear a big sign on my near-ass

"most likely turning left. don't kill me...jackass"

so I had REALLY bad helmet hair all day, smelled just a wee little of sweaty saddle crotch and limped a bit on the stairs.

awesome.

priorities

the other morning I came to the conclusion that I would much rather be late to work (way late to work) and face censure than to leave my house without my carrots.

washed and peeled.

I've long since decided that tolerating any (and I mean ANY) sort of political, bureacratic or hierarchical bullshit solely for the sake of getting a paycheck wasn't gonna happen, either.

now I'm faced with a role that's becoming less clearly defined on a daily basis (the whole stay at home mom thing starts to lose significance when the kid is home less than you)...and still neither the desire or the ability to work full-time (I spazz).

but, I'll be thirty this year, and while my husband's income is respectable...we're barely making it and the prospects for retirement are about as grim as those for us taking a three week world-jaunting vacation this year. we just don't have the resources.

and while my meager $75 a day ration for putting up with inner-city school admin bullshit helps (according to my husband)...

I'm not feeling entirely fulfilled.

I like the kids. some of 'em I even like alot. the highlight of each and every one of my days is most definitely the excited smile of a youngster in the hallway blurting out "oooh! HI, MISS SUKI!!!" accompanied by an exuberant little brat wave. who WOULDN'T like that?

I just don't know that I'm able to commit myself to dragging my ass out of bed each. and. every. morning to actually get to school to see them. I like 'teaching' art...which is more like demonstrating crafts with the district's limited resources (ie. no freaking art room in this school)...

but I'm not sure whether or not I want to actually become a full-time teacher. there are a number of advantages and disadvantages to taking the plunge and getting certified...and I'm just not feeling like my perspective is clear enough to objectively evaluate my best course of action.

I'm lazy. I don't WANT to work, and I don't want to commit myself to schooling and a job that might drive me nuts (like I've already done three times)...but I don't want to be a soft shoed, booty ass, punk mo'ficker, either.

I WANT to man up...

just...not every day...full time...for thirty five more years until retirement.

glorious

just got caught in an early summer storm on a bike ride.

I felt like a 12 year old, again.

absolutely frickin' glorious.

man, did I drop the ball

not sure if you picked up on my overly-guilt laden under-tone (hehe that made me giggle) in the last post about not seeing the kid enough.

if not...feast your eyes on this post.

I completely and totally dropped the ball with her. not only did I forget what time she was supposed to be picked up from camp yesterday (and where) sending the husband on a forty-five minute wild goose chase while I played with OTHER PEOPLE'S kids...

but I didn't get up for her send-off wednesday morning, didn't redress her seeping wound on her shoulder, didn't send her with a tube of antibiotic ointment and strict instructions...

and didn't check it last night when I got home.

first thing I see this morning upon going in to wake her up for my let's-get-rid-of-mommy's-guilt-by-going-out-for-pancakes-breakfast was her pussy, WILDLY infected shoulder.

we're on our way to the doctor's office now where I will INSIST on a culture before letting them hop her up on antibiotics. where they'll refuse. and where we'll leave with a prescription for whatever the fuck them tell me to give her.

goddamn working is hard. this is just yet another example of how I just can't seem to fit more than one priority on my list. I know I've been busting my ass lately (at least for me, anyway)...but that shouldn't mean that I should be so NON present that something like this goes on undetected by me.

I trust and love my husband...but he's not a mommy.
I trust and respect her teachers...but they're not her mommy.
I even trust and love (cough, cough) her father...but he still isn't me.

EVERY time I feel I drop my guard and give her space...something comes up. I don't think that this cut got infected because I stopped caring about it...

but it sure feels that way.

[/continue guilt]

so many ideas

so few hours.

suki's been busting bootie this week to try to bank some chedda (as if I actually COULD) before the school year ends and haven't seen the inside of my home for more than three or four forty minute stretches of wakey-time in a few days.

I's tie-urd (<----that's tired with two syllables for those of you who have not recently visited west virginny).

I saw the kid this afternoon for the first time in three days...while SHE slept...just long enough to snap a shot or two of her drooling...then hit the road for el job-o numero dos. got home a few minutes ago...and of course, she's asleep, again.

glad I got that picture...at least now I remember what she looks like.

I've had brilliant streak of inspiration after brilliant streak of gas (just checking if you're with me, here)...yet no time to bloggie. this saddens me.

I realize, though that I'll have all summer long in front of a computer to knock the internet's socks off...

and continue on my hustle for now.

it's all over soon.

five and a half more days of school...then the suki gets to sit on her ever rounden-ing ass...

all. summer. long.

envy me, punks.

(then loan me a five spot. I'm gonna be broke)

she lives

I heard from her husband. he said she was indeed hospitalized, and it was indeed an overdose.

no recent update on her condition...

but she lives.

amen.

wicked scared

I got a text from my good friend, steph:

good bye, everyone.

by the time I checked it and called the police in her area, cops and ambulance were already on scene.

no word yet.

I'm wicked scared.

rocking the rendezvous

ree's

WV!!!

my ass is hot. maybe I should just stick it out this window, eh?

chillin'

team proper hippy

this way to the boy scout gather

yes, please. I'll have two. thanks

10b, top roped...shoulda led it

last weekend's recap, brought to you by the United Way, Caron Foundation and Big Bubba's Burly Biscuit Bungalow...


headed down thursday night with Joel, Ethan, Jay and Oqui in the bitchin ass astrovan complete with tiger paw tire action.


rollllling.



'twas cold, it was, but that wasn't slowing down the action at burnwood. there were a GAZILLION people there when we rolled in thursday night. my first reaction: oh, god. this is gonna be bad. Matty got there a bit later sporting nothing but a t-shirt and capris [I think I can (make it warm). I think I can (make it warm)] and bunked in with me for the night keeping out werewolves, large spiders and uber creepy horny hippies. let me just say...a night in a tent with matty is always a riot (he toots), and I lurves the boy to diseath.


team proper hippy and I (duelly named b/c my husband insists that I'll never be a PROPER hippy if I insist on taking a pillow camping with me) hit summersville lake for our climb du'jour on friday and got some good action in. met up with "Mac" (who's name has been presented exactly as spelled to us in order to fully and completely identify him to his next victims) who beta'd our ears off for three fucking hours. don't get me wrong...I'm sure he's a good kid. friendly. out-going. but EXTREMELY eager to please and much like beetlejuice, if you say his name three times he invariably shows up just over your shoulder. "Mac" was, nonetheless a recurring theme throughout the weekend, and unfortunately, the butt of many many jokes.


don't cry little fellar, the suki <3's ya.


we had some stellar gourmet pizzas at pies and pints new set-up in fayetteville and then headed back to camp for dessert-a-pa-looza. I can sum this up quite easily with...


oh, dear lord it hurts so bad.


fantastic eats! sponsored by...meh, I don't know some climbing company??? (ha. excellent marketing strategy for them, eh?) free beer followed. stupid human tricks, raging camp fire, several dozen pics of me in a compromising position (attempting to pick a dollar bill off of the ground using only my mouth with only one foot allowed on the ground) undoubtedly now circulating the net. and so ended evening two.


day of the comp we woke up to joel's slamming camp breakfast of sausage and egg bagels (and beer, also a recurring theme), registered for the comp and hit bubba city...


along with 43,000 other people. ugh. it was cool for just hanging, but poo for serious climbing so we left the big boys, joel and ethan (DID I MENTION THAT JOEL TOOK SECOND IN NOVICE MENS? CAN I GET A WOOT?), to get their climb on alone and headed to junk-yard with Jeremy and Cindy for some (what we hoped would be) laid back climbing.


nopers. we got to the trad crag to find 15 redneck children under the age of 5 in pajamas and cowboy boots...a couple of angry frenchies and all climbs taken. no big. we hung out, jer-dawg set us up with a great lead and we all got another two or three climbs in before heading back to camp for beer, beer, beer, red bull and vodka, beer and some free eats. again with the excellent food...this time a nicely prepared vegan meal...and then more beer.


saturday night was a riot. boulder comp, band, campfire, me campusing the marijuana cave to the delight of a dozen on-lookers (I felt no pain, I swear), drunkards jumping over a roaring campfire the size of the astro, a (45 MINUTE) wildlife presentation about some...stuff, and something...else (yeah, it was that long), a bit of suki gets funky on the dance floor a la the percolator (you know you want some), and me deciding after about 9pm to no longer walk anywhere on my own due to an abundance of overly-amourous climbers about (what can I say..the boys like girls with no boobers). if I was invited to 'a party' in one more person's tent...I was gonna hurl.

...or maybe that was the vodka?


see, I kept getting lost. I recognized so many folks in camp (the eastern climbing community, as you can imagine, is not huge) that I felt more cozy than usual striking out on my own...and had difficulty (vodka, maybe?) remembering where the hell I was supposed to be and who I was supposed to be meeting. I thought I had this all figured out by forcing all my proper hippies to proudly display glow sticks...til the sponsors starting throwing them into the crowd.


fuck.

I was all stumble, stumble, grope, grab "are you my mommy?" I must've muttered a thousand times in two hours...fuck, I lost my humans, again!


next year...we bring the leash.


saturday night ended with a scary as fiz-nuck hike into the heart of the west virginny forest with Oqui and I both opting to run "home" as quickly as possibly when we SWORE we heard banjers. I tried my dangedest to get some sleep after that...but satan visited the campground, ran around til the wee hours of the morning rebuking us in his demonic voice til someone finally yelled:

"go to hell"


how apropo.

when the redbull wore off around tuesday at 11am I tried my hand at sleep, again...at which point I realized my own itchy funk was keeping me awake.


sigh. the woods make a suki happy (even if she does have skid marks).


we pulled out a couple of climbs on sunday, got some mediocre mexican, thumb wrestled, gave each other perms and did some headstands in the van (long ride. we all caught a touch of the autism) and bid each other adieu around 11pm.


honestly...the best time I've ever had on a climbing trip. I went into this ordeal a bit hesitant about my lack of knowledge of these boys...


but came home with four brand new friends.


did I say friends? I meant family...you can only swap so much spit, sweat and crud inadvertently before you realize you're part of the pack.





viva la cilantro!

team proper hippy

my last bath was wednesday night.

I shat in the woods six times since then.

I've been wearing the same underwear since friday.

My feet grew green(ish brownish) cheese.

in other words...I had an AMAZING time this weekend. too tired to give the full glam-0-lacking story just now, since I haven't slept more than four hours a night since thursday...but I will most def be blogging this one in great detail later.

for now...I've got school in 8 hours...


and will need at least three of them to scrape the grime offa me.

I forgot

I bought a bike today.

a 16" men's mountain bike...cheapest one I could find (diamondback, I believe?) with double walled rims...and tore my pants within the first 20 yards of riding it.

oh, yeah. this is going to be a very good bike for me.

could I possibly be more conflicted?

yup. I'm sure.

my "problems" are actually quite trivial in nature...but really underscore my indecisive and super duper fruit looper nature. I've been back and forth with myself about this climbing trip for a few weeks, now...

and INCESSANTLY so for the last few days. I even got to the point where I was polling my students "g or n? pick one. NOW!" 'g' being staying home and checking out granogue and 'n' representing the new river rendezvous. maybe I should've added an "f" for go fuck myself...

I wasn't going to go. then I was. then I wasn't. then I found, through what appeared to be divine intervention, a group and a ride (with people who WEREN'T blowing me off and being choads). then I was going. then came kid complications, so I wasn't going. then I told the kid to suck it up...and we were going.

now...I think I maybe, possibly, sorta...might not be going.

I took off work thursday night at the gym, friday at school and probably cost myself the assignment for the rest of the year in doing so...and I don't think I'm going.

I spent, quite literally, FOUR HOURS on the phone today trying to make arrangements to make this work. here's what the plan was (is?):

me: leave at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon sans kid with a group of men I barely know to hit the gorge

the hub would then get the kid to school on friday, cart her an hour to my mother's after school so that my mother could then cart her to a friend's for a sleepover. the kid would then be picked up the next morning at 10:30, shuffled an hour back to our town for a "spartan spectacular" festival until 4:30 that afternoon, then brought BACK to my house where a sixteen year old cousin would be waiting to kidsit her (I haven't been allowed to say BABYsit since the kid was old enough to protest "I'm NOT a baby, I'm a pre-schooler!") the kid and the cousin would then be picked up for church sunday morning, bored to death, then carted BACK to my house to serve the rest of their sentence. I would then get said cousin off to school first thing monday morning...exhausted, sweaty and most likely injured (that would be me upon my return from climbing...and the cousin upon her arrival here. she just broke her ankle and rarely bathes).

so I had it wired, right?

wrong. without either myself, the husband or the kid's dad anywhere in this picture...I'm a little nervous about the potentialities, here.

too many transitions...too many opportunities for somebody else to fuck up my plan, schedule, child, etc.

so the I barely know them dudes agreed to bring the child with for the trip. they're obviously nice guys. I consider myself a fairly decent judge of character...but I know they're just saying it now out of obligation, and I don't want to put them out. even if I didn't mind putting them out (which I do)...

the kid is now uber upset about missing the party, the spectacular AND the big whoopdy-doo rocket launch and field day at school friday.

fuck. in. a.

do I sacrifice her activities for my own? do I sacrifice mine for hers? I'm sooo NOT the soccer mom type. I don't glean enough personal satisfaction from sewing school play costumes to make my world spin...so when it comes down to it, this kid is gonna have to climb with me. in fact, she's going to have to get used to spending half of her summers as a filthy crag-bound pre-teen at miguel's and the gunks.

question is...

do I make her miss her activities THIS weekend to start her training in filth acquisition?

I climbed.

indeedily do.

I led three 8's, top-roped a 10 (poorly) and started to remember why i like this so much...

come back, it will. regain strength, I will.

lead tens by summer's end, I must.

I think I also snagged myself a ride and some partners for the new trip which I was so wibbly wobbly about. I've been picking on these guys for months...

I'm thinking a road trip is most decidedly in order.

remember to pack my stun-gun, I must...

peace on earth, goodwill to me (its mine, dammit)

this photo was in no way staged...I'm ashamed to say: that's, quite literally...how I roll.

http://www.sukishouseo-o-fuglyshoes.com



fuckin' a I love that place. where else on earth can $3.31 make me so grab-assing, mongloid-o grinny, ree-ree happy? I bought books...all sorts of books for a nickel a piece. I even bought a coffee table book on China...



and then one on Holland.



's cool. they'll match the Budapest travel guide I got last time around...and even if they don't



THEY WERE A NICKEL...A PIECE, MOTHER FUCKER.



^ that statement alone brings joy to my day (especially the "motherfucker" part). more than you can imagine. honestly, I think I might have a problem. if it isn't on sale...no...clearance...I physically can NOT buy it. I argued with the folks at "the new AT&T" for 17.28 minutes tonight because I feel I spend too much money on their services. I told them I've been doing it for over ten years and it needs to stop. I asked them to give me a credit in the amout of three bajillion dollars for ripping me off this long...and implored them to repent.



allowing me to spend money is definitely a mortal sin...which is precisely why I don't do it.



they settled on 3,000 roll over minutes and the ceremonial waiving of one or another fees. when all was said and done I told them to call Comcast and tell them I'm coming...



bitches.

did I mention that I got ET on VHS for $2 and the best of broadway LP for about 13 cents?

wonder how much a VCR and record player'll cost me...



I also scored some gold felt-like too tight shoes (fiddy cent), yet another metal wall hangy thingy to store in my attic ($2.97), a bicylce helmet (4 bones), tupperware parfait cups (@ fiddy seven cents a pop), 4 pairs of manufacturer's reject flip-flops, a silver purse (ok. I'm fucked up.), a broken foam bazooka dart launcher ma-bobber ($2.99), and the tackiest picture frame on the planet ($1.97) which I hung on the wall...sans picture, green dot and pricetag still intact.



I should also mention that I was once subscribed to 13 magazines at once...

who needs prozac?

made me think...

the title of my last blog reminded me of something my lil monkey said to me last friday.

we were rushing around trying to get five or six mother's day/birthday gifts wrapped, everyone fed, and her packed up to go to a sleep-over when she responded to one of my suggestions for wrapping a gift (see we don't BUY gifts around here...we make them and the presentation is 80% of the deal) with...

come on, mom. what do you think I am, an amateur? I AM your kid, ya know.

why, yes. you most certainly are, miss sassy pants!

hahahaha

and way to go on that shrink-wrapped, home-made, oh-so-appropriately embellished gift basket, too (high fives the kid).

makes a momma proud.

it must suck having me as a mom

the phone convo:

me: hey, kid...you want a canvas bag to tie dye at camp?
her: yeah, can you get me a green wig and wings, too?
me: when do you need it?
her: tomorrow.

um, no.

the poem she's going to recite tomorrow IN FRONT OF HER ENTIRE CLASS, that she needs said items for:

I'm Glad I'm Me
I don't understand why everyone stares
when I take off my clothes and run down the stairs
or when I stick carrots in both of my ears,
then dye my hair green and go shopping at Sears.

I just love to dress up and do goofy things.
If I were an angel I'd tie dye my wings!
Why can't folks accept me the way that I am?
So what if I'm different and don't act like them?

I'm not going to change and be someone I'm not.
I like who I am, and I'm all that I've got!


the end result of the artist hub and I's combined efforts:

hurry, cookie! to the produce section!!!

is that a carrot in your ear or are you just happy to see me?

end result of tomorrow for teh kid:

ridicule, humiliation and torment.

heeeeeeeeeeeeehehehehehehe

I LOVE being a parent.

hahahah

my friend (show me yer junk) did a little redecorating recently...

good thing this boys in australia or I might be forced to break his leg...

or something.

not a broken record...

just one that skips.

went for another ride today. was out about two hours and get this...

didn't want to throw up even once. oh, yeah. it's my birthday.

this is a good feeling. knowing that I still have the occassional up with my all too plentiful downs=priceless.


...now for my regularly scheduled nap.

I'm fussy.

the highlight of my day was when I took a rather large and refreshing poo...not only for the inherent joy related to such an activity...but because it also felt like maybe...just magically maybe I could poo out whatever is making me feel like ass.

I shouldn't feel like ass. I had a cool day. went for a mountain bike ride (kinda. more to follow). had some cold stone frozen deliciou-o-rama. went shopping for a brand new bike of my very own. got a new camelbak. spoke to a few old friends. spent some q-t on the back porch watching the rain and my dumb ass dogs and had a wee ittle bit of chocolate.

all this would make for a super awesome day if I didn't still feel like I weigh 3,000 pounds and I'm constantly dehydrated. I. feel. heavy (not literally speaking. I weighed less this afternoon than I have in six years. maybe why I'm weak???).

weak. beat up. and...

fussy.

I threw up half-way through our ride this afternoon. five miles and forty-five minutes in I had my face in the grass, unable to move. took me half an hour to have a few sips of water and recover enough to head back.

I know I sound like a broken record lately. I read these blogs...I just write what I feel...and lately I haven't felt well.

its time for another trip to the doctor, me thinks.

something's really wrong with the suki.

headed to the dark side

I am sooooo incredibly fucking weak. I cried today.

to say my climbing is sub-par would be a compliment.

wes t. conquerer: why you falling off that?

suki: I got nothing.

^ aint that the truth.

this girl needs to take a little rest, eat right (what IS that these days, anyway?), and find my fucking chi...because I can't continue to call myself a climber the way I've been flailing about.

an absolute fucking disgrace.


fuck this. tomorrow...

I'm going for a bike ride.

perhaps

I've got things to attend to.

perhaps...

I'll get shit done this time around.


(cryptic suki says touch your toes)

hate to disappoint...

but the fatty fat fat was nice to me today.

I couldn't bring myself to gut her when she hobbled around on a freshly surgically repaired knee (although that would've made for several quality fat jokes, right there)...and generally looked pathetic.

so we made nice and exchanged phony pleasantries.

fret none...there's hope. next week she'll be off the pain killers and back to uber bitch mode...and I'm sure it'll be game on.

I did manage to trash her to another teacher, though. who simply said "yeah. she's always like that."

I guess in the end what this was really about though...

she wasn't worth the bail money and I chumped out.


stay tuned. this aint over yet.

fat bitch v. the suk-ster *ding*

its on.

I briefly mentioned this overly large angry woman who's been giving me the evil eye and cold shoulder at school...but have not since elaborated.

pull up a twinkie, get comfy...cause it's about to go down.

last friday this HEFFFFAAAAAH had the nerve to get out right and completely rude with me. RUDE beyond what I would even expect from our little ghetto ass students. RUDE like you'd be three seconds before someone busts a forty bottle over your dome. RUDE like its a good thing I've got bail money because I'm about to commit a homicide.

RUDE.

she's my last class of the day tomorrow. I've given this alot of thought over the last week. really analyzed my response to her most recent transgression. upon sucking her teeth, rolling her eyes and hitting me with a major 'tude...I simply cocked my head to one side and said "well, oooooooh kay, then!" and walked away.

teh hub thinks this was the wrong approach because, even though I didn't stoop to her level...I let her know she gets under my skin.

a friend believes it was the wrong approach because I took her actions personally, and should recognize that her issues are hers...not mine.

another friend told me I should've thrown a chair.

after much deliberation...I've chosen my best course of action.

tomorrow...

I'm simply going to walk into her room, give her the head nod and say:

"sup, slim?"

I'm tired.

am I the only woman on earth who doesn't really LIKE shopping? I had to get some "school" shoes to wear with all my mini-marm outfits, and didn't enjoy a single second of it.

walked into store one, was macking on some super fly pumas, a couple o' pairs of canvas slip on jobbies (the hotness)...then came to the realization that I can't wear the same thing the fifth graders would...

I needed grown up shoes.

FUUUUUUUUCK. there is only one place I'd wear grown up shoes...and that's a place I never WANT to go...just one I HAVE to.

so I passed up the pumas (I'll be back) and started scoping out some less fly, comfy-chase-a-kid-able shoes. shopping for necessities is like artificial insemination.

all the expense, discomfort, put-out-edness...and none o' the fun in the process.

settled on two pairs of semi-conservative, uber cheap (I'm only going to wear them thrice each) heeled sandals (I need to at least APPEAR bigger than these chumps)...and only cried a little.

went to the climbing gym afterwards, got my ass tossed around on some stuff I KNOW I CAN SEND...and then cried a little more.

fuck. this. shit. I want my suki back...

and those hype ass pumas.

it only hurts because its true

matty says that he and I used to climb at the same level. fall off the same routes at the same spots...and he's right. we USED to. he's now climbing well above my level...and I'm climbing well below my peak.

mark pointed out that I'm not working as hard as I used to. julie said I wear myself down. others say...it just takes time.

what's the deal? do I work harder? take more rest? train less/more/smarter?

I know I'm coming off of an illness...but do I start pushing again? take it easy?

what kind of an athlete am I?

...and what is my body actually capable of?

I've been feeling strong on boulder problems lately. not actually sending anything...but sticking moves and FEELING tight. routes? leading? forgeddaboudit. I'm either too scared, or just so lacking endurance that I can't even push myself through a prg 11 (which is more like a 9).

I've gotta find my groove.


...really.

~snagged~

24.23 miles over the limit. the limit being 25.

they don't call me evil genevil for nothing.

mandatory six month suspension of driving privileges for exceeding the speed limit by more than 16 miles per hour (he showed me the statute). an additional six month suspension for the accumulation of points that the wreckless driving charge would've added, additional fines for not having my license AND insurance card (I was 1 for 3 when I found the registration, at least)...and at least a doubling of my insurance premium.

thankfully for me...I'm a girl. not that my itty bitty boobies did me any favors...homeboy said he was looking out for my husband, though. wouldn't want HIM to have to pay my extra car insurance. ha! I OBVIOUSLY look like a no-income-having irresponsible mofo. if it looks like a slacker, quacks like a hippy...let its husband pay the insurance (or it gets the hose...)

I got away with failure to obey a traffic control device (like I usually do), no points, a good lecturing (and quite the plea to my better judgement), a $107 fine, and fourteen questions about climbing...cause I was pulled over, of course IN THE CLIMBING GYM PARKING LOT.

I shit you not. I drove at least 17 hours last week...most of it over the speed of 90...and managed to finally get snagged 1/billionth of a mile from the climbing gym, today. I had the kids (bayl and alann) in the car, STUFFED with climbing gear, which probably didn't hurt my flighty fun-loving young mother who would NEVER intentionally endanger another's children by driving wrecklessly cause.

I got the usual "do you have any idea how fast you were going?" I gave the usual "nope, but I'm guessing it was a bit too fast, huh?" followed by my award winning grin and blowjob. (kidding. at least on the blowjob, anyway)

he gave the "license, registration and insurance please"

and I, of course, did the obligatory search for the items I KNEW weren't there. they're never there. I always PUT them there...but, of course, they're never there. he knew something was up when I rattled off my driver's license number to him, later pointing out that I'm on my third dup. I was like...yeah. I lose that alot. he was like...yeah, I noticed.

he was super good natured. took his time looking me up and trying to scare me...all the while I'm cleaning out the grocery getter. stacking gear on the ground. collecting trash. noticing I still have "SHORTY" scrawled across my rear window. wiping the windows down. checking the headlights...all as if I WASN'T boxed in by a police cruiser, lights flashing, patrons curiously peeking through the door, co-workers gossiping about how I must be out there grabbing my ankles.

did I say co-workers? I think that was alanna, actually.

so I'm still waiting...now I'm texting the hub that I'm in the process of getting $107 fine (not my first. I could've written the ticket for him), checking all my voicemail and planning next weeks menu (mcdonald's, arby's, wendy's, isaac's, shephard's pie, power bars).

I just couldn't bring myself to be upset. I drive like a bat outta hell and knew my kop karma wouldn't hold out forever. I thought I was going to bite it in new york state when a cop flew up on me lights blazing at 87. fortunately for me...

there was another asshole before me going faster.

faster than me? yeah...

he must've been REALLY cruising.

what an asshole!

fuzzy math.

one day, one night improptu bouldering trip totals:

six hour round trip road trip -------> 8 1/2 hours
sleeping in car -----> 5 1/2 hours
total climbing time ----------------->7 hours
one year climbing membership to mohunk preserve for me and teh hub ------> $135
climbing shoes, crash pad, guide book, destination stickers-----> $320
gassing up the grocery getter-----> $75
breakfast, dinner, snacks ----->$80
thank you gifts for kid and dog sitters -----> $35
hourly wage at rock gym (to "pay" for my habit) -----> $7.50

problems sent -----> 1


aaaaaaaaaaaah hahahahahahaha!

note to reader: doing it again this saturday

mr. dancer

I get a phone call from my mother's cell this afternoon. she's totally deadpan...

"I got some bad news today. shocker of the decade"

with all the drama surrounding my sister and nieces, general tendency towards lunacy in this family, and a couple o' doozies of my own...I'm preparing myself for the worst. she then tells me that OH MY GOD!!! DOUG DANCER IS GETTING MARRIED.

ok, I'm laughing already. see...about 8 years ago, my mom dukes was totally OBSESSED with this man. completely in love. head over heels reetardo-rama for this guy. unrequited. never consumated...never fully let it go. a few months ago she was out of the country on business and just happened to run into the former flame who was doing some consulting for the same company. they struck up a convo, had a drink, left it at that.

no mention of marriage.

and CERTAINLY no mention that he was about to being marrying another man.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa hahahahahahahahahah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

my mom...is, understandably, taking this pretty hard.

I, on the other hand...

and busy laughing my ass off that the former man of her dreams...mr. dancer (of all the apropo names)...

is "marrying" a chunky 45 year old bald man.

go, doug.

its your birfday.

ooh, yeah.

Due to a bunch of super weird circumstances, today I had the option of taking a first grade class, teaching art, or just going home. I chose to take the class so the other first grade teachers wouldn't have extra kids, the retired art teacher could make the rounds and hang with the other kids, and my husband could actually sleep because I wouldn't be coming home all amped up on my morning cup o' tea.

when my first student walks in, all of six years old, he turns to his homeboy and says "ooh, yeah. we got a cute one today."

grreat. apparently I've got the six to 11 year old male demographic on lock down. they heart the suki.

somebody remind me to buy lots of very conservative button up tops. come to think of it...

dressing like a marm might work wonders with the overly image conscious fat chick who gives me the evil eye every time she sees me. this chick hates me. the same teacher who so pointedly informed me that she is a MISS and NOT a Mrs. one and the same teacher with a french pedicure (seriously. come on.). the same teacher who tans her hide to a rather unappealing shade of orange, sports long fake finger nails and cakes her face with make-up. my very existence seems to disrupt every fiber of her being. simply BEING makes her want to cause me harm.

today I almost said "sup, fatty? you want a piece of me?"...I instead settled on. mmmm...this sure is some mighty fine grouper....but your donut looks good, too.

go for a jog, heffa...and lay off the ho-ho's. aint my fault you're an arm-chair.

in other news, I got my drink on last night, had some great grouper (ok. I just like saying grouper. step off, already) with miss michaela, found a headless bee in my yard (where do you think the head went? are bees cannibalistic, by any chance? I sure hope so. I hate the little fawks), had a take five candy bar, considered painting my toenails for the first time since I began climbing (NOT in a french pedicure, mind you) and got my usual five or six hours of sleep.

tres exciting. I know. you all wish you could be me, just now.

don't all crowd at once...