now I have to kill my daughter.
I got a call from one of her teachers that she "just isn't herself."
talking in class, being defiant, trip the principal's office.
yup. she has to die, now.
anyone wanna buy the sprout? if not...I'll just hafta murder it in twelve or thirteen years, anyway.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
5 oranges?
we finally got to the grocery store last night to put some food in this house.
I was heavy on the fruits and veggies (not gonna lie. I bought FROZEN veggies. sick of them rotting silently in my fridge), whole grain bread-like items and dairy. can you say cheese-itarian?
oqui was bagging and I was yapping with the cashier when I noticed she put 5 oranges on the scanner.
5 oranges?
no. no, wait a minute. I know he wouldn't buy FIVE oranges.
I dug and dug and dug on the belt and...of course, found the sixth.
*sigh o' relief*
later in the evening (about 20 minutes after we should've been asleep)...I started mumbling about those oranges and launched into a (very sleepy) fruit monologue.
oranges - never three. never five. two, four or six.
apples - minimum four. any less is sacrilige.
pears - multiples of three. perhaps its the bulbous shape that fits so neatly into itself inverted???
bananas - five. three in the back, two up front. if you live in a multiple banana eater household...you can go so high as seven (two in the back, three in the middle, two up front). but never equal numbers of nanners in both rows.
cucumbers - two.
onions- more than four and you need your head examined.
squash and zucchini - three each, yellow and green.
one pineapple. one melon. and one container of either:
-strawberries
-blueberries
-or raspberries
unless you plan on making a fruit tart. then you can buy all three...with prior permission.
so, I'm going on and on and on...not realizing oqui is either awake or not ignoring me when he bursts out laughing.
cackling, really.
I felt a little violated. dood. you're supposed to be asleep. this is MY fruit beta. not for yours, buddy.
still laughing.
when he gets ahold of himself he says that next time he'll pick the produce.
ahhh, I'm thinking. ok. he's finally listening to me about the food thing. trying to get involved. help out.
nope. he says he's going to buy two apples, seven pears, one banana and four melons.
four melons???
w...wwww..well, that's just fucked up.
WHAT THE HELL DO YOU DO WITH FOUR MELONS???
speaking of fruit: I have a (slightly askew) lump in my belly about the size of a grapefruit.
I'm thinking we'll need to rename it. 'the sprout' may no longer do the job.
since we've been referring to it in terms of citrus fruit (oh, look! it's as big as a lime. now it's a lemon...orange...grapefruit...)
perhaps we'll have to start calling it squirt.
in other other other news:
I climbed outside this weekend. my regular harness is officially being retired until post-baby. I'm ordering a full body harness (hundred and twenty bucks!!!).
we got there late, so all the 'warm up ropes' were long gone. I ended up warming up on a 10.b. not too shabby, actually.
I'm still strong (believe it or not) and could crank all the moves. I just needed to clip into every damn bolt and let my heart rate drop from about 3,000 before moving on.
I did a 9/10 and alot of sitting...and called it a day. my harness was just too sketchy squeezing on the sprout/squirt.
felt GOOOOOD to be out, though.
magical, really.
I figure I'll get at least two months...maybe three outta that expensive harness...
and maybe stop moping for a little while.
wouldn't that be nice? :-d
I was heavy on the fruits and veggies (not gonna lie. I bought FROZEN veggies. sick of them rotting silently in my fridge), whole grain bread-like items and dairy. can you say cheese-itarian?
oqui was bagging and I was yapping with the cashier when I noticed she put 5 oranges on the scanner.
5 oranges?
no. no, wait a minute. I know he wouldn't buy FIVE oranges.
I dug and dug and dug on the belt and...of course, found the sixth.
*sigh o' relief*
later in the evening (about 20 minutes after we should've been asleep)...I started mumbling about those oranges and launched into a (very sleepy) fruit monologue.
oranges - never three. never five. two, four or six.
apples - minimum four. any less is sacrilige.
pears - multiples of three. perhaps its the bulbous shape that fits so neatly into itself inverted???
bananas - five. three in the back, two up front. if you live in a multiple banana eater household...you can go so high as seven (two in the back, three in the middle, two up front). but never equal numbers of nanners in both rows.
cucumbers - two.
onions- more than four and you need your head examined.
squash and zucchini - three each, yellow and green.
one pineapple. one melon. and one container of either:
-strawberries
-blueberries
-or raspberries
unless you plan on making a fruit tart. then you can buy all three...with prior permission.
so, I'm going on and on and on...not realizing oqui is either awake or not ignoring me when he bursts out laughing.
cackling, really.
I felt a little violated. dood. you're supposed to be asleep. this is MY fruit beta. not for yours, buddy.
still laughing.
when he gets ahold of himself he says that next time he'll pick the produce.
ahhh, I'm thinking. ok. he's finally listening to me about the food thing. trying to get involved. help out.
nope. he says he's going to buy two apples, seven pears, one banana and four melons.
four melons???
w...wwww..well, that's just fucked up.
WHAT THE HELL DO YOU DO WITH FOUR MELONS???
speaking of fruit: I have a (slightly askew) lump in my belly about the size of a grapefruit.
I'm thinking we'll need to rename it. 'the sprout' may no longer do the job.
since we've been referring to it in terms of citrus fruit (oh, look! it's as big as a lime. now it's a lemon...orange...grapefruit...)
perhaps we'll have to start calling it squirt.
in other other other news:
I climbed outside this weekend. my regular harness is officially being retired until post-baby. I'm ordering a full body harness (hundred and twenty bucks!!!).
we got there late, so all the 'warm up ropes' were long gone. I ended up warming up on a 10.b. not too shabby, actually.
I'm still strong (believe it or not) and could crank all the moves. I just needed to clip into every damn bolt and let my heart rate drop from about 3,000 before moving on.
I did a 9/10 and alot of sitting...and called it a day. my harness was just too sketchy squeezing on the sprout/squirt.
felt GOOOOOD to be out, though.
magical, really.
I figure I'll get at least two months...maybe three outta that expensive harness...
and maybe stop moping for a little while.
wouldn't that be nice? :-d
Friday, April 25, 2008
oh yeah...
and I still hate meat, am eating too much soy (linked to birth defects. that's gotta stop), and can pee on command (particularly since I have to pee all the time).
I took 1 (one) prenatal vit...and vetoed that plan again for a while. they suck.
but most importantly of all...
my mother is taking the kid for the weekend and teaching her to cook. this on the heels of my mom's internet research on the effects of soy...and my continued insistence that I can NOT touch meat to cook it.
she's sending her home with casseroles. lots of them.
I absolutely flipped my lid earlier this week when both the kid and the man were too busy to help me cook. so there I was, touching ground beef (blecht) and fuming like a lunatic.
I made a gorgeous fresh meal and took a plate out back by myself to eat without a word to either of them.
when they joined me...I left. then I took the dogs out for a nice long walk (also without a word to either of them) and finally calmed down.
they concluded while I was gone that I was very upset (no shit), needed more help from them, and would probably calm down later.
right on all counts but the last.
if someone doesn't start cooking around here...
they're all going to starve.
I took 1 (one) prenatal vit...and vetoed that plan again for a while. they suck.
but most importantly of all...
my mother is taking the kid for the weekend and teaching her to cook. this on the heels of my mom's internet research on the effects of soy...and my continued insistence that I can NOT touch meat to cook it.
she's sending her home with casseroles. lots of them.
I absolutely flipped my lid earlier this week when both the kid and the man were too busy to help me cook. so there I was, touching ground beef (blecht) and fuming like a lunatic.
I made a gorgeous fresh meal and took a plate out back by myself to eat without a word to either of them.
when they joined me...I left. then I took the dogs out for a nice long walk (also without a word to either of them) and finally calmed down.
they concluded while I was gone that I was very upset (no shit), needed more help from them, and would probably calm down later.
right on all counts but the last.
if someone doesn't start cooking around here...
they're all going to starve.
I've got it.
she needs to get laid.
she's about mid-50's.
slightly chubby.
mean as fuck.
wears lots of loud colors and cheap sandals.
sports the styling head scarf of her native land.
pretends she doesn't speak english when she's being tricky.
and really needs a good banging.
any takers?
(don't tempt me to post a pic...cause I just might do it)
in other news:
exhaustion does not begin to describe how I've felt this week. three full days (my full days end at 3:00pm, btw) was ALOT. I was dragging my bum by wednesday afternoon.
by thursday. asleep at the wheel. I feel asleep whenever:
a. the kids got quiet (they didn't)
b. they left the room (they did)
c. noone was looking
I slept 11 hours wed night and another 13 or so yesterday including naps.
but, as my mother said...I better get as much as I can now, because in a few months...I'll be too uncomfortable to sleep at all...and that'll go on for about a year and a half (til I have and wean the kid).
so I'm stocking up, now.
I'm also stocking up on maternity clothes. I'm addicted. I keep bidding on e-bay lots and ordering stuff on-line. yet I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH!!! (particularly since half the e-bay stuff doesn't fit)
the fact that I'm going to be gigantic makes me want to play dress up for the next six months.
speaking of gigantic...
yesterday I looked HUGE.
11 weeks :( I thought I was 12) in and I was enormous. today...
it's gone.
day before yesterday...huge.
not to mention that the sprout is located entirely on my left side. my right side is getting jealous and hurts when I sneeze.
the nurses and midwives don't seem to think this is a problem...but agree that it really is WEIRD.
and there ya have it.
my kid is a weird radical leftist in the womb.
she's about mid-50's.
slightly chubby.
mean as fuck.
wears lots of loud colors and cheap sandals.
sports the styling head scarf of her native land.
pretends she doesn't speak english when she's being tricky.
and really needs a good banging.
any takers?
(don't tempt me to post a pic...cause I just might do it)
in other news:
exhaustion does not begin to describe how I've felt this week. three full days (my full days end at 3:00pm, btw) was ALOT. I was dragging my bum by wednesday afternoon.
by thursday. asleep at the wheel. I feel asleep whenever:
a. the kids got quiet (they didn't)
b. they left the room (they did)
c. noone was looking
I slept 11 hours wed night and another 13 or so yesterday including naps.
but, as my mother said...I better get as much as I can now, because in a few months...I'll be too uncomfortable to sleep at all...and that'll go on for about a year and a half (til I have and wean the kid).
so I'm stocking up, now.
I'm also stocking up on maternity clothes. I'm addicted. I keep bidding on e-bay lots and ordering stuff on-line. yet I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH!!! (particularly since half the e-bay stuff doesn't fit)
the fact that I'm going to be gigantic makes me want to play dress up for the next six months.
speaking of gigantic...
yesterday I looked HUGE.
11 weeks :( I thought I was 12) in and I was enormous. today...
it's gone.
day before yesterday...huge.
not to mention that the sprout is located entirely on my left side. my right side is getting jealous and hurts when I sneeze.
the nurses and midwives don't seem to think this is a problem...but agree that it really is WEIRD.
and there ya have it.
my kid is a weird radical leftist in the womb.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
too much anger for one human being
my neighbor is the nexis of evil.
NOONE likes her...not even her own family.
come to think of it...ESPECIALLY her own family. the police despise them. the neighborhood is ready to evict them...
and she, for whatever reason, has chosen me as her arch enemy. I was on the balcony with the dogs this afternoon and she snarled at me. she actually and audibly snarled.
I had no choice but to chuckle in her face.
she has no idea. no 50-something, scarf wearing, loud-mouth scares ME, bitch. you've obviously never met my mother.
yesterday afternoon we so kindly put all of her garbage back behind HER shed (I was tempted to move their damn toilet over there, too...but was rife to touch it) and took a nice picture or two of all the matching garbage shoved into THEIR trashcans (slick, aren't they?)
and they told the cops it wasn't their stuff!
hardy.har.(I hate you)har.
they are, at this moment cleaning up their yard. I am HOPING TO GOODNESS they put something on our property, again...
cause this time its going back upside one of their domes.
we are so incredibly done with this shit.
NOONE likes her...not even her own family.
come to think of it...ESPECIALLY her own family. the police despise them. the neighborhood is ready to evict them...
and she, for whatever reason, has chosen me as her arch enemy. I was on the balcony with the dogs this afternoon and she snarled at me. she actually and audibly snarled.
I had no choice but to chuckle in her face.
she has no idea. no 50-something, scarf wearing, loud-mouth scares ME, bitch. you've obviously never met my mother.
yesterday afternoon we so kindly put all of her garbage back behind HER shed (I was tempted to move their damn toilet over there, too...but was rife to touch it) and took a nice picture or two of all the matching garbage shoved into THEIR trashcans (slick, aren't they?)
and they told the cops it wasn't their stuff!
hardy.har.(I hate you)har.
they are, at this moment cleaning up their yard. I am HOPING TO GOODNESS they put something on our property, again...
cause this time its going back upside one of their domes.
we are so incredibly done with this shit.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
oh, no...she did NOT
yes, she did.
the bitch next door dumped her trash on our property.
so I called the fuzz.
the fuzz talked to her. she lied. he left.
today...her old kitchen counter is still on my property.
...so I called the borough.
the old supervisor used to swing by and pick up the trash (he's now in the police academy. I'm glad. I'm gonna like him). the new guy...won't.
so her shit is still outside of my house. turns out I'm going to need to buy a permit for a special trash pick up.
I plan no revenge, whatsoever.
I mean it.
the bitch next door dumped her trash on our property.
so I called the fuzz.
the fuzz talked to her. she lied. he left.
today...her old kitchen counter is still on my property.
...so I called the borough.
the old supervisor used to swing by and pick up the trash (he's now in the police academy. I'm glad. I'm gonna like him). the new guy...won't.
so her shit is still outside of my house. turns out I'm going to need to buy a permit for a special trash pick up.
I plan no revenge, whatsoever.
I mean it.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
duck and run
I probably shouldn't find this so funny...
but today several hundred elementary school students had to be hastily invacuated (whatevs. its not a word...but I couldn't be buggered to look up an antonym for evacuated)...
due to a gang fight and drive-by.
are you kidding me? I mean...
COME ON!
I'm not particularly opposed to you jack-asses offing yourselves. much like the new york maffia in the 80's (was it the 80's? hell if I know. I'm only 30)...kill yourselves quietly and we'll just go about eating our pasta...
but OUTSIDE OF AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL???
huh? these reerees (the gangbangers, not the kids this time) are lucky enough to pop off a successful point blank shot with their shoddy, mis-firing, but OOOOH so cool Glocks and ever so ineffective, but totally street mandatory sideways shooting.
let alone to hit a moving target...
from a moving vehicle...
with several hundred moving human shields squirming about.
thankfully, the reerees (the gangbangers, not the kids this time) cleared the area and hopefully offed each other in private somewhere...
and we (the teachers and kids this time) avoided a full out lock-down.
but, seriously...I HAVE to keep saying this:
do I live in fucking compton or something???
why can't these dorks just have a good old fashioned fist fight or pants each other?
but today several hundred elementary school students had to be hastily invacuated (whatevs. its not a word...but I couldn't be buggered to look up an antonym for evacuated)...
due to a gang fight and drive-by.
are you kidding me? I mean...
COME ON!
I'm not particularly opposed to you jack-asses offing yourselves. much like the new york maffia in the 80's (was it the 80's? hell if I know. I'm only 30)...kill yourselves quietly and we'll just go about eating our pasta...
but OUTSIDE OF AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL???
huh? these reerees (the gangbangers, not the kids this time) are lucky enough to pop off a successful point blank shot with their shoddy, mis-firing, but OOOOH so cool Glocks and ever so ineffective, but totally street mandatory sideways shooting.
let alone to hit a moving target...
from a moving vehicle...
with several hundred moving human shields squirming about.
thankfully, the reerees (the gangbangers, not the kids this time) cleared the area and hopefully offed each other in private somewhere...
and we (the teachers and kids this time) avoided a full out lock-down.
but, seriously...I HAVE to keep saying this:
do I live in fucking compton or something???
why can't these dorks just have a good old fashioned fist fight or pants each other?
Monday, April 21, 2008
let the "punishment" begin
the monkey asked for a note to get out of track practice today...
I wrote this:
Coach U,
My daughter is a sissy and asked for a note to get out of track practice today. She says she doesn't feel well...I think she's just mad because I made her break up with her 16 year old juvenile delinquent boyfriend. Feel free to make practice EXTRA hard today.
Thanx!
Teh Suki
ps. she's also grounded and disallowed to speak to Julie.
(and on the back in teeny tiny writing)
pps. She really isn't feeling well today, but I felt the need to torture her with this note. She does have my consent to miss practice.
it should be noted here that her track coach is NOT a nice guy and isn't particularly fond of my daughter.
grood.
I hope he makes her practice in jeans and vomit up blood.
then I can justifiably kick BOTH their asses.
in other juvy related news:
apparently "mikey" was sooooooo devastated by the loss of his new girlfriend that he did what every horny, retarded, dishonest, piece of shit 16 year old criminal would...
he immediately got himself another one.
even better.
he's done. she's grounded (to the extent that oqui won't even let her walk to school with the bad apple, anymore. he's driving her...and we live 3 blocks from the school). and my house will never be cleaner than its about to be in the weeks to come.
I'm also going to take this time to teach her how to cook.
I'll be having a baby soon...and take-out is expensive.
it's about time this child earns her keep.
let's just hope her cooking doesn't suck.
I wrote this:
Coach U,
My daughter is a sissy and asked for a note to get out of track practice today. She says she doesn't feel well...I think she's just mad because I made her break up with her 16 year old juvenile delinquent boyfriend. Feel free to make practice EXTRA hard today.
Thanx!
Teh Suki
ps. she's also grounded and disallowed to speak to Julie.
(and on the back in teeny tiny writing)
pps. She really isn't feeling well today, but I felt the need to torture her with this note. She does have my consent to miss practice.
it should be noted here that her track coach is NOT a nice guy and isn't particularly fond of my daughter.
grood.
I hope he makes her practice in jeans and vomit up blood.
then I can justifiably kick BOTH their asses.
in other juvy related news:
apparently "mikey" was sooooooo devastated by the loss of his new girlfriend that he did what every horny, retarded, dishonest, piece of shit 16 year old criminal would...
he immediately got himself another one.
even better.
he's done. she's grounded (to the extent that oqui won't even let her walk to school with the bad apple, anymore. he's driving her...and we live 3 blocks from the school). and my house will never be cleaner than its about to be in the weeks to come.
I'm also going to take this time to teach her how to cook.
I'll be having a baby soon...and take-out is expensive.
it's about time this child earns her keep.
let's just hope her cooking doesn't suck.
no 16 year old juvies were stabbed in the making of this blog....YET
last night...my sweet little innocent doll of a (physically developed) 12 year old daughter came home with something to tell us.
it took her 53 mis-starts to finally blurt out:
this weekend Mikey asked me out, and I said yes.
oh no, she didn't!
firstly, we tried the whole "boyfriend" thing on for size last summer and I permanently vetoed it. it was nothing but trouble and pressure for her to kiss some slimy little pre-teen.
not on my watch.
soooooooo...the fact that she said yes (Mikey, by the way...was one of THREE boys to ask her out last weekend. school dances can suck a fat one) is reason enough to chuck boogers at her.
the fact that he's 16...well, that's reason enough to STAB him.
add to that the fact that he's on house-arrest (wtf?wtf?wtf?wtf?)...and that's got oqui and the monkey's dad dressed up in hoodies ready to throw some 'bows.
sooo...he got a little phone call from the suki. I started off slow.
hi. I'm b's mom. so I hear you guys have some good news for us, huh?
(he grumbles)
well, so anyway...since you're part of the family, now...I just have a few questions for you.
(he squeaks)
so, um...yeah. what school do you go to?
(he lies)
now, now, mikey. I know you don't go to her school. let's try this again without you being a little lying piece of shit (oqui says in the background "that's it, I'm going to kill him") no, no, oqui....you can't kill him...yet.
(the little shit hangs up)
soo...he's getting stabbed.
in the course of the evening long lecture that followed I extrapolated certain other information.
LIIIIKE...
he's on house-arrest (wtf?wtf?wtf?wtf?)
he smokes
HE'S SIX-FUCKING-TEEN
she saw him this weekend (she INSISTS he had a 'day pass' to get a haircut and walked by her friend's house)
did i mention he's six-fucking-teen?
he's best friends with her best friend's boyfriend.
^ and THAT is my biggest problem, thus far.
we've had problems with her best friend before. she's an incredibly smart but extrememly misguided kid with two druggie parents who use her as a weapon against each other.
so, basically...she's a major fucking pain in my ass.
I was tempted to disallow the monkey from hanging with this kid a few weeks ago when she tried to convince her to skip out on track practice to go see these boys. my child refused. this pain in the ass called her a punk. my child still refused, and I narrowly avoided cutting someone's hair off.
meanwhile...at the very next meet, her best friend is running (the ONLY race she ran, btw, cause she's academically ineligible. real winner, I know), her ponytail slips and I see hickies.
wtf?wtf?wtf?wtf?
she was at her loser boyfriend's house until 9:fucking:30 the night she ditched practice...and came back with hickies.
like I said...I wanted to ban this girl indefinitely right there and then...but knew if I push too hard, my kid'll act just like her. instead, I SUGGESTED that my daughter limit her time with the bad influence crowd and focus more on the less rebellious kids.
and I thought she did.
I was wrong...and now she's got two choices:
1. stay away from this band of thugs at all cost
2. rot away in her room
we do not struggle with money to keep her in a good district so she can up and choose to hang with juvies. I made it very clear that if this is the crowd she chooses...despite the abundance of good available nerds...
there is no reason for us to stay here.
I mentioned "home schooling," "antarctica," and "mountain top cabin."
(I also mentioned "bald, plaid pants and bobo sneakers")
I hope to god she realizes I'm not playing.
it took her 53 mis-starts to finally blurt out:
this weekend Mikey asked me out, and I said yes.
oh no, she didn't!
firstly, we tried the whole "boyfriend" thing on for size last summer and I permanently vetoed it. it was nothing but trouble and pressure for her to kiss some slimy little pre-teen.
not on my watch.
soooooooo...the fact that she said yes (Mikey, by the way...was one of THREE boys to ask her out last weekend. school dances can suck a fat one) is reason enough to chuck boogers at her.
the fact that he's 16...well, that's reason enough to STAB him.
add to that the fact that he's on house-arrest (wtf?wtf?wtf?wtf?)...and that's got oqui and the monkey's dad dressed up in hoodies ready to throw some 'bows.
sooo...he got a little phone call from the suki. I started off slow.
hi. I'm b's mom. so I hear you guys have some good news for us, huh?
(he grumbles)
well, so anyway...since you're part of the family, now...I just have a few questions for you.
(he squeaks)
so, um...yeah. what school do you go to?
(he lies)
now, now, mikey. I know you don't go to her school. let's try this again without you being a little lying piece of shit (oqui says in the background "that's it, I'm going to kill him") no, no, oqui....you can't kill him...yet.
(the little shit hangs up)
soo...he's getting stabbed.
in the course of the evening long lecture that followed I extrapolated certain other information.
LIIIIKE...
he's on house-arrest (wtf?wtf?wtf?wtf?)
he smokes
HE'S SIX-FUCKING-TEEN
she saw him this weekend (she INSISTS he had a 'day pass' to get a haircut and walked by her friend's house)
did i mention he's six-fucking-teen?
he's best friends with her best friend's boyfriend.
^ and THAT is my biggest problem, thus far.
we've had problems with her best friend before. she's an incredibly smart but extrememly misguided kid with two druggie parents who use her as a weapon against each other.
so, basically...she's a major fucking pain in my ass.
I was tempted to disallow the monkey from hanging with this kid a few weeks ago when she tried to convince her to skip out on track practice to go see these boys. my child refused. this pain in the ass called her a punk. my child still refused, and I narrowly avoided cutting someone's hair off.
meanwhile...at the very next meet, her best friend is running (the ONLY race she ran, btw, cause she's academically ineligible. real winner, I know), her ponytail slips and I see hickies.
wtf?wtf?wtf?wtf?
she was at her loser boyfriend's house until 9:fucking:30 the night she ditched practice...and came back with hickies.
like I said...I wanted to ban this girl indefinitely right there and then...but knew if I push too hard, my kid'll act just like her. instead, I SUGGESTED that my daughter limit her time with the bad influence crowd and focus more on the less rebellious kids.
and I thought she did.
I was wrong...and now she's got two choices:
1. stay away from this band of thugs at all cost
2. rot away in her room
we do not struggle with money to keep her in a good district so she can up and choose to hang with juvies. I made it very clear that if this is the crowd she chooses...despite the abundance of good available nerds...
there is no reason for us to stay here.
I mentioned "home schooling," "antarctica," and "mountain top cabin."
(I also mentioned "bald, plaid pants and bobo sneakers")
I hope to god she realizes I'm not playing.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
it is now time for our regularly scheduled
annual tribute to pollen.
but...since I'm feeling like dookie it won't be nearly as eloquent as last year's.
it goes a little something like this (like this):
---------------------------------
Dear Pollen,
eat a bag o' dicks.
teh suki
--------------------------------
along with the pollen, however, comes the beauty that is the ONE good week of the year for my yard. I'll post some pics (minus where the dogs have destroyed any and all grass) tomorrow.
by then, the 'pah's spiffy new ultra-zoom should arrive.
oooh, how nice it'll be to have a decent digital in the house, again.
...even if it will be covered in headache inducing pollen.
but...since I'm feeling like dookie it won't be nearly as eloquent as last year's.
it goes a little something like this (like this):
---------------------------------
Dear Pollen,
eat a bag o' dicks.
teh suki
--------------------------------
along with the pollen, however, comes the beauty that is the ONE good week of the year for my yard. I'll post some pics (minus where the dogs have destroyed any and all grass) tomorrow.
by then, the 'pah's spiffy new ultra-zoom should arrive.
oooh, how nice it'll be to have a decent digital in the house, again.
...even if it will be covered in headache inducing pollen.
Friday, April 18, 2008
an ode to stabbing
its all so clear.
I know now who I'm meant to stab. just as oqui and I were discussing the merit of long-range stab missiles...
my destiny hath been laid before me.
my neighbor...is going to die.
this bitch was (thankfully and decidedly) absent for a month or so...and I almost forgot how much I detest her. I woke up this morning (every ten minutes for 3 hours) to the sounds of two very irritated and unhappy dogs.
they sensed her presence. they hate her, too.
in fact, they hated her first. from the minute we moved in here...they couldn't stand her caustic, obnoxious, bitching voice.
and now...she's back.
since she hadn't been state-side for a while...I was willing to forgive her evils and flashed her a smile, and gave her a 'hello' when I let the mutts out (to bark and slather at her through the fence. they really hate her).
she replied with:
jhou. jhou need clean up leaves. cigarettes from street. fire. you clean up, now.
me:
excuse me? we don't smoke. who's putting cigarettes in our yard??? (she knows full well its her fat, sloppy, wife-beater wearing absent 83% of the time son-in-law).
her:
men from street. they put here. you clean.
me:
(trying hard not to say: ok. I clean 4 leaves. you clean 3 sinks, 2 couches, 8 cars, broken bed, 27 boxes and rest of your shit. ok?)
yes. leaves. men from street. I guess we ALL have a lot of cleaning up to do, huh?
she is, at this very moment, raking the side of my house and bitching loudly about it in arabic.
I'd prefer that she was removing her upholstered furniture from her front porch or disposing of one of their many disabled vehicles, but we can't always have what we want. now, can we?
so now...
I have to stab her.
I know now who I'm meant to stab. just as oqui and I were discussing the merit of long-range stab missiles...
my destiny hath been laid before me.
my neighbor...is going to die.
this bitch was (thankfully and decidedly) absent for a month or so...and I almost forgot how much I detest her. I woke up this morning (every ten minutes for 3 hours) to the sounds of two very irritated and unhappy dogs.
they sensed her presence. they hate her, too.
in fact, they hated her first. from the minute we moved in here...they couldn't stand her caustic, obnoxious, bitching voice.
and now...she's back.
since she hadn't been state-side for a while...I was willing to forgive her evils and flashed her a smile, and gave her a 'hello' when I let the mutts out (to bark and slather at her through the fence. they really hate her).
she replied with:
jhou. jhou need clean up leaves. cigarettes from street. fire. you clean up, now.
me:
excuse me? we don't smoke. who's putting cigarettes in our yard??? (she knows full well its her fat, sloppy, wife-beater wearing absent 83% of the time son-in-law).
her:
men from street. they put here. you clean.
me:
(trying hard not to say: ok. I clean 4 leaves. you clean 3 sinks, 2 couches, 8 cars, broken bed, 27 boxes and rest of your shit. ok?)
yes. leaves. men from street. I guess we ALL have a lot of cleaning up to do, huh?
she is, at this very moment, raking the side of my house and bitching loudly about it in arabic.
I'd prefer that she was removing her upholstered furniture from her front porch or disposing of one of their many disabled vehicles, but we can't always have what we want. now, can we?
so now...
I have to stab her.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
another beautiful day
we're planning on hitting french creek with the mutts (and his bike. I'm not mad. why would you think I'm mad????) later today.
which means I'm resting.
resting, resting, resting.
I'm tired of resting.
we had a little spat last night.
me: you don't appreciate what I do.
him: you don't appreciate what I do.
me: great! NOW we're getting somewhere.
we're stressed. the house. money. change of lifestyle. health insurance (that's a totally different blog. I'm one still too angry to write)...
but the truth of the matter is...
we're going to be under SOME sort of stress for the next several years no matter what.
we're looking at massive lifestyle changes across the board. we're going to be down to one income (most of which is absorbed by the cost of health insurance, but again...too angry to discuss that). we have to move. we're going to have some difficultly doing the things we love. the things we fell in love doing for quite some time (I can't foresee hit the fireline trail or trail 12 with a baby seat on the back of either of our bikes).
we have to change not only WHERE we live...but how.
its going to be rough, but its what we've planned. we're working towards a goal (of a slightly larger but still as cozy and happy family)...
and that should be sufficient knowledge, shouldn't it?
and I think it would be if I felt like I was working at all. instead I just feel lazy, useless and vulnerable.
its really hard for a woman who considers herself tough and strong to be relatively incapacitated...and almost entirely dependant on others (ok. well...I've mastered the dependant thing...but at least I used to be able to climb shit).
I've realized that I'm so tired...that I can't even picture myself being capable, again. and that's where the problem lies. how can I trust that I can handle this...do all this juggling when I'm not sure I believe that I'm going to feel better?
how 'tough and strong' is that?
hormones make me a sissy. and I don't like it.
oqui told me last night that its hard for him to see me so depressed. depressed?
I once heard that depression is just anger without enthusiasm.
if that's the case...I'm most certainly NOT depressed.
because I'm fuming mad...and ready to stab things (<---there's no lack of enthusiasm in that statement).
I HATE that if I'm up to cooking a meal...I'm definitely not up to cleaning up after it.
I DESPISE that after 4 hours of working...I need to sleep 14.
I'm PISSED that I'm not helping more around the house to get it sold.
I'm ANGRY that I don't feel comfortable looking for summer work...because I don't trust that I can handle it.
last night (in the midst of our 'argument') I said, "i know for certain...I'M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN!!!!"
by "this" I meant getting pregnant.
and I felt instantly evil for saying it.
this isnt' the sprout's fault. nor is it oqui's. (shhh. don't tell HIM I said that)
its just an unfortunate couple of months to endure...
then I can move on. forget I ever felt so shitty...
and hopefully make some progress with "the plan."
...if not. I'm stabbing something.
which means I'm resting.
resting, resting, resting.
I'm tired of resting.
we had a little spat last night.
me: you don't appreciate what I do.
him: you don't appreciate what I do.
me: great! NOW we're getting somewhere.
we're stressed. the house. money. change of lifestyle. health insurance (that's a totally different blog. I'm one still too angry to write)...
but the truth of the matter is...
we're going to be under SOME sort of stress for the next several years no matter what.
we're looking at massive lifestyle changes across the board. we're going to be down to one income (most of which is absorbed by the cost of health insurance, but again...too angry to discuss that). we have to move. we're going to have some difficultly doing the things we love. the things we fell in love doing for quite some time (I can't foresee hit the fireline trail or trail 12 with a baby seat on the back of either of our bikes).
we have to change not only WHERE we live...but how.
its going to be rough, but its what we've planned. we're working towards a goal (of a slightly larger but still as cozy and happy family)...
and that should be sufficient knowledge, shouldn't it?
and I think it would be if I felt like I was working at all. instead I just feel lazy, useless and vulnerable.
its really hard for a woman who considers herself tough and strong to be relatively incapacitated...and almost entirely dependant on others (ok. well...I've mastered the dependant thing...but at least I used to be able to climb shit).
I've realized that I'm so tired...that I can't even picture myself being capable, again. and that's where the problem lies. how can I trust that I can handle this...do all this juggling when I'm not sure I believe that I'm going to feel better?
how 'tough and strong' is that?
hormones make me a sissy. and I don't like it.
oqui told me last night that its hard for him to see me so depressed. depressed?
I once heard that depression is just anger without enthusiasm.
if that's the case...I'm most certainly NOT depressed.
because I'm fuming mad...and ready to stab things (<---there's no lack of enthusiasm in that statement).
I HATE that if I'm up to cooking a meal...I'm definitely not up to cleaning up after it.
I DESPISE that after 4 hours of working...I need to sleep 14.
I'm PISSED that I'm not helping more around the house to get it sold.
I'm ANGRY that I don't feel comfortable looking for summer work...because I don't trust that I can handle it.
last night (in the midst of our 'argument') I said, "i know for certain...I'M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN!!!!"
by "this" I meant getting pregnant.
and I felt instantly evil for saying it.
this isnt' the sprout's fault. nor is it oqui's. (shhh. don't tell HIM I said that)
its just an unfortunate couple of months to endure...
then I can move on. forget I ever felt so shitty...
and hopefully make some progress with "the plan."
...if not. I'm stabbing something.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
blessed be this glorious weather
(I wanna climb)
not too hot.
not too cold.
juuust right for capris and a 3/4 length shirt...which is, amazingly enough, precisely what I happen to have on.
(I wanna climb)
I'm almost ashamed to admit that both of those items ^ are maternity clothes.
*le sigh*
my normal clothing aren't TOO TOO tight...they just...
touch me.
and it's yicky.
(I wanna climb)
so I'm rocking out the low-rise super stretchy waist-band...
and the top...well. it's just cute.
(I wanna climb)
I still wish I had all those dresses that were in my dream the other night.
AND the hello kitty roller skates.
(I wanna climb)
not too hot.
not too cold.
juuust right for capris and a 3/4 length shirt...which is, amazingly enough, precisely what I happen to have on.
(I wanna climb)
I'm almost ashamed to admit that both of those items ^ are maternity clothes.
*le sigh*
my normal clothing aren't TOO TOO tight...they just...
touch me.
and it's yicky.
(I wanna climb)
so I'm rocking out the low-rise super stretchy waist-band...
and the top...well. it's just cute.
(I wanna climb)
I still wish I had all those dresses that were in my dream the other night.
AND the hello kitty roller skates.
(I wanna climb)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
NOW I remember
taught a "full" day today.
hated almost every second of it.
NOW I remember this sucking.
a disproportionately high percentage of these children are...for lack of a better word...straight up fucking losers. it used to inspire me to try harder...
now it just tires me.
respect? ha! forget it.
follow the rules? not a chance.
being able to sit still and quiet and actually LISTEN to direction?
nevah.
and it all becomes crystal clear why; standing in the hallway during parent teacher conferences.
if half of these mothers weren't ACTUAL hookers...they certainly shop at the hooker store.
the dads...yeah. homemade prison tats are all the rage.
the parents are louder in the halls than the kids. rude. ignorant. assinine.
just plain lame.
why on earth do these fucking people have children?
gak!
hated almost every second of it.
NOW I remember this sucking.
a disproportionately high percentage of these children are...for lack of a better word...straight up fucking losers. it used to inspire me to try harder...
now it just tires me.
respect? ha! forget it.
follow the rules? not a chance.
being able to sit still and quiet and actually LISTEN to direction?
nevah.
and it all becomes crystal clear why; standing in the hallway during parent teacher conferences.
if half of these mothers weren't ACTUAL hookers...they certainly shop at the hooker store.
the dads...yeah. homemade prison tats are all the rage.
the parents are louder in the halls than the kids. rude. ignorant. assinine.
just plain lame.
why on earth do these fucking people have children?
gak!
Monday, April 14, 2008
(almost) the worst dream EVER
hormones are some trippy lil sum'n'guns.
I've been having...shall we say...strange dreams almost nightly.
last night's...SUCKED.
I drempt that I was pregnant (go figure), living in the home I grew up in (which is smack dab in the middle of a drug block replete with hookers and wandering crackheads, now), and could not, for the life of me...
remember who oqui was.
I couldn't even remember that I couldn't remember him. I spent the majority of the dream rummaging through all my summer dresses (I REALLY wish I had those dresses) not even aware that one becomes pregnant through the assistance of another...
til a woman rang the doorbell at 2 in the morning to say happy birthday to me. she said she was very happy for me (I have no idea who she was), and that she could see my name written all over the baby's father's smile. he was that in love with me.
then I tried to figure out who she meant.
was it Arrian? no, it was my daughter's father Scott. won't he (and his live-in girlfriend) be surprised to find out I'm carrying his child...
I came to the conclusion that I was ALL. ALONE.
I had flashbacks of being left alone on the playground at age 4. being ditched by my friends in junior high. of forgetting my father's name...not like I needed to remember it, anyway.
I drempt of every time I felt abandoned in my life...and still could NOT remember oqui.
I woke up staring at the dark ceiling...still feeling very much alone. I put my hand to my belly to see if it was real.
yup, there's a peanut there.
but how?
it took several minutes of racking my brain, staring into nothingness to figure it out...and it doesn't surprise me that it was a PHYSICAL memory that finally clued me in.
I knew that this child was planned. I knew that we wanted it. I could remember crying with relief when I found out...
then I remembered a laughable moment while trying to make it.
I remembered 'him' making a joke about tying my legs to the ceiling to get the right angle...then I saw his face. I reached to my left and felt him there...
I almost cried as I said his name.
oqui! thank god you're here.
I've been having...shall we say...strange dreams almost nightly.
last night's...SUCKED.
I drempt that I was pregnant (go figure), living in the home I grew up in (which is smack dab in the middle of a drug block replete with hookers and wandering crackheads, now), and could not, for the life of me...
remember who oqui was.
I couldn't even remember that I couldn't remember him. I spent the majority of the dream rummaging through all my summer dresses (I REALLY wish I had those dresses) not even aware that one becomes pregnant through the assistance of another...
til a woman rang the doorbell at 2 in the morning to say happy birthday to me. she said she was very happy for me (I have no idea who she was), and that she could see my name written all over the baby's father's smile. he was that in love with me.
then I tried to figure out who she meant.
was it Arrian? no, it was my daughter's father Scott. won't he (and his live-in girlfriend) be surprised to find out I'm carrying his child...
I came to the conclusion that I was ALL. ALONE.
I had flashbacks of being left alone on the playground at age 4. being ditched by my friends in junior high. of forgetting my father's name...not like I needed to remember it, anyway.
I drempt of every time I felt abandoned in my life...and still could NOT remember oqui.
I woke up staring at the dark ceiling...still feeling very much alone. I put my hand to my belly to see if it was real.
yup, there's a peanut there.
but how?
it took several minutes of racking my brain, staring into nothingness to figure it out...and it doesn't surprise me that it was a PHYSICAL memory that finally clued me in.
I knew that this child was planned. I knew that we wanted it. I could remember crying with relief when I found out...
then I remembered a laughable moment while trying to make it.
I remembered 'him' making a joke about tying my legs to the ceiling to get the right angle...then I saw his face. I reached to my left and felt him there...
I almost cried as I said his name.
oqui! thank god you're here.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
and your little dog, too.
mishaps, ensued.
The Great Nandino pulled one of his infamous disappearing acts. well, it was his first, and there wasn't anything particularly infamous about it...but I sat on the shore waiting with Cookie (the good dog) listening to oq crash through the woods, cussing up a storm, trying to catch the little shit.
then they got too far away for me to hear. I started to believe that we might be going home with just one dog. oddly enough, I wasn't particularly upset.
I guess I knew the little fucker would come back.
and so he did.
oqui was covered in scratches, brambles and bruises and SOOO not in a good mood when they returned...but, thankfully both my boys came back.
Cookie seemed unimpressed...
this is a hedgehog, but it was in with the dog pictures.
and was also not yet over her near-drowning incident of a week ago (that's when both the dogs swam out TIED TOGETHER to get a piece of driftwood and, of course, ended up getting stuck on it. needless to say, an unhappy suki had to roll up her pants, wade out and free the flailing beasts before they drowned. can anyone say amebic dystentary? that water was GROSS!)
anyway...the dog has a nice long memory and REFUSED to go out far enough into the water to actually swim. she loves to play fetch. you can throw a stick into the water a zillion times and she will willingly bound after each and every one...
and go out only as far as she can walk...and come back empty jawed.
we took pity on the mutt and started tossing it about ten feet out to give her a sense of accomplishment. she's so cute when she's happy.
I am tipsy as fiz-nuzzle here
near-drowning incident aside, our very best misadventure occurred as soon as we pulled in. I always keep the dogs on lead. even if their leashes are just binered together and they're dragging them...I've always got a handle on 'em (unless, of course, Nandie is taking off Into the Wild...in which case the most menacing thing about him is his ability to completely ignore you).
other people don't.
as soon as my guys jumped out of the car...some little rat shit terrier comes tearing across the field to get at 'em.
the woman chasing it was screaming hysterically. her husband was yelling something (not very nice) about pitbulls...and I very calmly lifted their leash and said, "don't worry. they're friendly"
her little piece of shit wasn't.
this 18 pound sack of bullshit ran right up among my two WAY bigger (not to mention STRONGER) dogs...and their two way-aggressive owners...and promptly attacked my cookie.
at first I kinda laughed. this thing was all fuzz and fury and was doing a pretty spectacular grizzly bear imitation...then I realized:
uh oh. it might actually hurt her.
my 75 lb, uber scary, frightens children and their parents, beast of a pitbull did absolutely nothing. my other one...did the same.
GOOD DOGS.
oqui and I, however, were both trying our damnedest to punt the little fuck who was attacking them.
it finally caught our drift and backed off a bit...only to make another run at my dogs.
I very calmly said, "you're quite the little fucker, aren't ya?"
oqui...went off.
"lady, I'm gonna kill your fucking dog! get that thing outta here...leash...fuck...kill...fucker...punt...ass..."
I was like...oq, settle down. she's not hurt.
at which point the rat-dog's owner felt it necessary to add, "well...I TOLD you he was mean."
ohmymotherfuckinggod.
I simply stated that if OUR dogs were also mean...she'd be taking home a ball of bloody fur and she should be thankful that at least SOMEONE had leashes on their pets.
she persisted.
I told her that informing someone post attack that your dog is unfriendly does not excuse it and asked her to kindly remove her pet from my kicking range.
oqui...well, he went off, again.
I'm not sure exactly what he said, but I can say for certain that the phrase, "look! I have anger management issues!!!" escaped his lips.
ha! no shit.
soo...he's working on his blood pressure and I'm training cookie to attack rat dogs on sight...
ya know...just in case.
pitbulls make great pets.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
body by...
last night oq was stretching out in his boxers and realized just how incredibly long his legs really are.
and his feet.
and his arms.
and his fingers.
(strangely enough...our toes are almost identical in length. his just LOOK bigger)
so I started wondering what it would be like to spend 24 hours in his body. I thought of all the things i would do.
first, I'd throw on a harness and see what's its like to climb with an extra 12 inches of reach. would I trip all over myself? how the hell would I use those gigantic feet? could I match on tiny little crimpers?
would I feel stronger and be better in his body? would I keep my strength/weight ratio...or would I suddenly feel heavy?
I know one thing for sure...not having a uterus or a sprout...I'd lead everything ridiculous, hard as hell climb I could get near...and not squish the bebbie while doing it.
THEN...I'd get on his bike. oh, yeah motherfucker. he's legs are WAAAY better conditioned than mine. would I crank up a climb in one gear and laugh at him at the bottom of the hill flailing around in my little frame?
yup. most likely.
I'd probably shave his nads...just to see what it felt like, and go for a run with his healthy strong knees.
I asked him what he'd do for a day in my body...
if he'd climb, ride, run, dance, etc...
he said he's be too busy exploring the vag to get to any of that.
ha! so he thinks. he'd probably be too nauseous to even bother.
if you had 24 hours in your significant other's skin...
what would you do?
and his feet.
and his arms.
and his fingers.
(strangely enough...our toes are almost identical in length. his just LOOK bigger)
so I started wondering what it would be like to spend 24 hours in his body. I thought of all the things i would do.
first, I'd throw on a harness and see what's its like to climb with an extra 12 inches of reach. would I trip all over myself? how the hell would I use those gigantic feet? could I match on tiny little crimpers?
would I feel stronger and be better in his body? would I keep my strength/weight ratio...or would I suddenly feel heavy?
I know one thing for sure...not having a uterus or a sprout...I'd lead everything ridiculous, hard as hell climb I could get near...and not squish the bebbie while doing it.
THEN...I'd get on his bike. oh, yeah motherfucker. he's legs are WAAAY better conditioned than mine. would I crank up a climb in one gear and laugh at him at the bottom of the hill flailing around in my little frame?
yup. most likely.
I'd probably shave his nads...just to see what it felt like, and go for a run with his healthy strong knees.
I asked him what he'd do for a day in my body...
if he'd climb, ride, run, dance, etc...
he said he's be too busy exploring the vag to get to any of that.
ha! so he thinks. he'd probably be too nauseous to even bother.
if you had 24 hours in your significant other's skin...
what would you do?
Friday, April 11, 2008
I know I'm a little rusty, but...
seriously.
how hard can it be to kill a roach?
I took another afternoon assignment today (this is six hours of work this week. can you tell I'm feeling better?)...and 'round 'bout 12:30 I'm sitting quite contentedly (I like to sit) at the teacher's desk...
when a full grown, and extremely RUDE, roach strolls right by me....and heads for my orange.
nuh uh, chief. that's MY orange.
so I squash it with my shoe...
or so I think.
the would be produce thief lays low for about 15 minutes...THEN FUCKING REANIMATES.
yes. the squashed roach starts waggling its antennae and makes another run for my orange (which btw I was too disgusted to eat and generously donated to other teachers).
so I whacked him, again.
I swear to you. this roach would not die.
finally...after my entire body started to itch and I completely lost my appetite I decided to call in some skilled help to finish this fucker off.
I had the students kill it.
one of the girls said with disgust, "Miss. You're afraid of a roach???"
yes, bitchlet. when something about .3% of my size refuses to die when I repeatedly knock its brains out...
yeah, I'm a little intimidated by that.
so afterschool, I decided to face my fears head on and get dinner at a puerto rican restaurant in town.
catfish - no.
pig's feet - uhhh...no.
boiled something or other nasty - no.
but I did get enough pastelios, rice and beans (I'm taking a chance with those beans), and steak and pork chops to feed an army...
of humans.
no roaches at the dinner table, please.
in other news:
the monkey ran the 200 without suffocating yesterday. she's COMPLETELY new to the sprint game (ie. tripped outta the blocks and actually turned around and went back thinking she false started it..only to play catch up for the rest of the race), but finished third in her heat. if my voice had offered her any assistance she would've won it.
me: get her bayl! get her! get her!!! you're so close! kill her! kill...oops. too much?
she was overwhelmingly proud of herself...and so was I.
she says she's going to ask the coach to keep her in the 200...AND put her back in the 800.
fucking a. this kid is awesome.
ps. there were no roaches at the meet. this is a good thing.
how hard can it be to kill a roach?
I took another afternoon assignment today (this is six hours of work this week. can you tell I'm feeling better?)...and 'round 'bout 12:30 I'm sitting quite contentedly (I like to sit) at the teacher's desk...
when a full grown, and extremely RUDE, roach strolls right by me....and heads for my orange.
nuh uh, chief. that's MY orange.
so I squash it with my shoe...
or so I think.
the would be produce thief lays low for about 15 minutes...THEN FUCKING REANIMATES.
yes. the squashed roach starts waggling its antennae and makes another run for my orange (which btw I was too disgusted to eat and generously donated to other teachers).
so I whacked him, again.
I swear to you. this roach would not die.
finally...after my entire body started to itch and I completely lost my appetite I decided to call in some skilled help to finish this fucker off.
I had the students kill it.
one of the girls said with disgust, "Miss. You're afraid of a roach???"
yes, bitchlet. when something about .3% of my size refuses to die when I repeatedly knock its brains out...
yeah, I'm a little intimidated by that.
so afterschool, I decided to face my fears head on and get dinner at a puerto rican restaurant in town.
catfish - no.
pig's feet - uhhh...no.
boiled something or other nasty - no.
but I did get enough pastelios, rice and beans (I'm taking a chance with those beans), and steak and pork chops to feed an army...
of humans.
no roaches at the dinner table, please.
in other news:
the monkey ran the 200 without suffocating yesterday. she's COMPLETELY new to the sprint game (ie. tripped outta the blocks and actually turned around and went back thinking she false started it..only to play catch up for the rest of the race), but finished third in her heat. if my voice had offered her any assistance she would've won it.
me: get her bayl! get her! get her!!! you're so close! kill her! kill...oops. too much?
she was overwhelmingly proud of herself...and so was I.
she says she's going to ask the coach to keep her in the 200...AND put her back in the 800.
fucking a. this kid is awesome.
ps. there were no roaches at the meet. this is a good thing.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
fighting da man.
good thing all my nice pants are for a fatter suki...cause today I gotta go and get dressed up (although I'm not trusting my balance in heels...)
today is my hearing to fight that e-z pass lane ticket.
officer what's his face is gonna feel my ire...
and I'm probably gonna walk away with a heftier fine and four or five tickets on the grocery getter when I get to the parking lot.
either way...it should be fun to play Suki Smith, Esq and talk them into oblivion.
here's hoping I don't get nervous and choked up!
(or fall in my heels)
today is my hearing to fight that e-z pass lane ticket.
officer what's his face is gonna feel my ire...
and I'm probably gonna walk away with a heftier fine and four or five tickets on the grocery getter when I get to the parking lot.
either way...it should be fun to play Suki Smith, Esq and talk them into oblivion.
here's hoping I don't get nervous and choked up!
(or fall in my heels)
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
just breathe
the monkey had her first track meet yesterday.
and I watched her have her first acute asthma attack.
NO FUN.
she runs the 800 (why would a kid with asthma be put in a half mile sprint you ask? answer: I do not fucking know)...and about 400 meters in hit a wall.
she was grabbing her throat and gasping. no fun at all.
she was running in third when she stopped being able to breathe normally, and to her credit, kept running another 200 meters before collapsing.
I freaked out.
I shoved everyone out of the way and sprinted across the track to get to her.
I beat the athletic trainer there. she drove a cart. I lost oqui.
when I got there she was a quivering mass of snot and near-vomit...and surrounded by her team mates.
good kids. a girl from the other team...whom she was racing AGAINST...tried to talk her through the race and stayed with her as other people passed them. she put her hand on her back and said, "I have asthma, too. Just relax. We can do this."
what an awesome kid. such compassion from a competitor. I hope that in a similar situation...I'd be as kind as that kid.
sooo...the monkey recovered (I'm still working on it. its pretty traumatic to see your child suffocating) and I'm going to have a little talk with her coach about:
a. putting her in that event
b. not taking asthma seriously
c. never once asking how she was
d. not being able to tell anyone where her inhaler was
that aside, we're not giving up on track. she asked me last night if she didn't have asthma would she be a good runner. I told the monkey that if flo-jo can run with asthma...she can, too. she's got amazing form and the heart of a (mini) lion.
we'll manage the breathing and get her back out there.
and hopefully, I never have to watch her choke and gag, again.
and I watched her have her first acute asthma attack.
NO FUN.
she runs the 800 (why would a kid with asthma be put in a half mile sprint you ask? answer: I do not fucking know)...and about 400 meters in hit a wall.
she was grabbing her throat and gasping. no fun at all.
she was running in third when she stopped being able to breathe normally, and to her credit, kept running another 200 meters before collapsing.
I freaked out.
I shoved everyone out of the way and sprinted across the track to get to her.
I beat the athletic trainer there. she drove a cart. I lost oqui.
when I got there she was a quivering mass of snot and near-vomit...and surrounded by her team mates.
good kids. a girl from the other team...whom she was racing AGAINST...tried to talk her through the race and stayed with her as other people passed them. she put her hand on her back and said, "I have asthma, too. Just relax. We can do this."
what an awesome kid. such compassion from a competitor. I hope that in a similar situation...I'd be as kind as that kid.
sooo...the monkey recovered (I'm still working on it. its pretty traumatic to see your child suffocating) and I'm going to have a little talk with her coach about:
a. putting her in that event
b. not taking asthma seriously
c. never once asking how she was
d. not being able to tell anyone where her inhaler was
that aside, we're not giving up on track. she asked me last night if she didn't have asthma would she be a good runner. I told the monkey that if flo-jo can run with asthma...she can, too. she's got amazing form and the heart of a (mini) lion.
we'll manage the breathing and get her back out there.
and hopefully, I never have to watch her choke and gag, again.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
I'm going to hell.
today I told the 'pah that I hate god.
( don't even believe in god...yet somehow, somewhere deep inside...I'm sure I'll pay for that.)
I am just sooooooo incredibly fucking sick of how I feel. I thought it was easing. I thought I was feeling better. I thought this long-playing shitty nightmare of a movie was almost over.
nope.
DENIED. back in bed ya go, suki. I've lost all sense of time. I woke up this morning and panicked because I didn't have a birthday gift for my grandmother.
her birthday is in november.
I am so entrenched in physical suffering that my mind can't even wrap itself around the concept of spring. the only thing springing is the mouth of hell.
wide open. trying to swallow me.
besides the fact that my body is getting weak and sore...my mind is getting fucked. this is the time of year I'm supposed to be raring to go, hitting the crags, fucking up trails and generally kicking ass.
nope.
I'm weak. under-nourished and black out every time I stand up.
I KNOW it'll pass...but I'm getting impatient. I'm also petrified of an early winter birth and post-partum PLUS seasonal depression all exacerbated by sleeping no longer than two hours a shot due to breastfeeding.
and more upsetting than how I feel NOW (and trust me. that's pretty fucking upsetting)...is the fact that this is attempt number two at pregnancy. and so far both have absolutely kicked my ass.
I'm upset...because I know that I'll never want to do this, again...and that seems incredibly limiting to me.
should my attitude suck about that already?
nope.
but, I'm finding it hard to be positive. REALLY hard. so disappointing.
I'm not depressed, though. its time to take action. Now, I'm just angry.
I envisioned smashing everything within reach with a baseball bat. I drempt I shot someone in the foot. I daydreamed I sliced the little jerk kid neighbor's basketball so he wouldn't be able to bounce it through my skull anymore.
I blamed god.
if this shit is truly a biblical curse because eve was a fucking cunt...then god is an unfair, unjust, bully of a prick.
(^yup. going to hell, again)
oqui started leafing furiously through all the pregnancy books for mention of god-hating in hopes of finding some advice on how to handle me.
nope.
so he did some yard work and picked up the dog poo...after ensuring all the knives were out of reach and my suic/homicidal fit had passed.
ha! little did he know...
I've got a shiv under the mattress and plan on hacking the dogs to pieces tonight while he sleeps.
a girl's gotta accomplish SOMETHING, right?
( don't even believe in god...yet somehow, somewhere deep inside...I'm sure I'll pay for that.)
I am just sooooooo incredibly fucking sick of how I feel. I thought it was easing. I thought I was feeling better. I thought this long-playing shitty nightmare of a movie was almost over.
nope.
DENIED. back in bed ya go, suki. I've lost all sense of time. I woke up this morning and panicked because I didn't have a birthday gift for my grandmother.
her birthday is in november.
I am so entrenched in physical suffering that my mind can't even wrap itself around the concept of spring. the only thing springing is the mouth of hell.
wide open. trying to swallow me.
besides the fact that my body is getting weak and sore...my mind is getting fucked. this is the time of year I'm supposed to be raring to go, hitting the crags, fucking up trails and generally kicking ass.
nope.
I'm weak. under-nourished and black out every time I stand up.
I KNOW it'll pass...but I'm getting impatient. I'm also petrified of an early winter birth and post-partum PLUS seasonal depression all exacerbated by sleeping no longer than two hours a shot due to breastfeeding.
and more upsetting than how I feel NOW (and trust me. that's pretty fucking upsetting)...is the fact that this is attempt number two at pregnancy. and so far both have absolutely kicked my ass.
I'm upset...because I know that I'll never want to do this, again...and that seems incredibly limiting to me.
should my attitude suck about that already?
nope.
but, I'm finding it hard to be positive. REALLY hard. so disappointing.
I'm not depressed, though. its time to take action. Now, I'm just angry.
I envisioned smashing everything within reach with a baseball bat. I drempt I shot someone in the foot. I daydreamed I sliced the little jerk kid neighbor's basketball so he wouldn't be able to bounce it through my skull anymore.
I blamed god.
if this shit is truly a biblical curse because eve was a fucking cunt...then god is an unfair, unjust, bully of a prick.
(^yup. going to hell, again)
oqui started leafing furiously through all the pregnancy books for mention of god-hating in hopes of finding some advice on how to handle me.
nope.
so he did some yard work and picked up the dog poo...after ensuring all the knives were out of reach and my suic/homicidal fit had passed.
ha! little did he know...
I've got a shiv under the mattress and plan on hacking the dogs to pieces tonight while he sleeps.
a girl's gotta accomplish SOMETHING, right?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
you take the good, you take the bad...
you take them both and there you have...
whatevs. tootie was a twit. but...I'm rolling with it.
after two days of relative activity (we rode and climbed tuesday then hiked the dogs yesterday)...I crashed. I got a pregnancy migraine.
sooooooooo gross.
they SAY you can take tylenol...but I wouldn't. so I did the next best thing and went to sleep. my lord was my head pounding. new (non-pregnancy specific) nausea had its way with me (ginger tea be damned)...and my skull ached.
then VIOLA! it was gone.
a-men. I love that I'm generally feeling better. I still have my moments...but there are periods of near-normalcy between.
we ALMOST went climbing outside today. even made plans to take a friend with...then I hit a wall and had to bail. so the 'pah is out riding and I'm just glad the house is quiet, lest another killer skull ache drops by to visit.
I realize that I'm also developing my own little superstitious routines. I can drink the ginger tea...but only after three crackers and an orgasm.
I can eat yogurt, but only while watching weeds.
whole grain bread is fine...as long as its toasted no longer than 48 seconds.
cheese is out. screw that. I wanna poo, again.
almost any food is acceptable if it:
a. is not cooked at home
b. is something I would normally never eat
c. is not consumed within 2 hours of entering or exiting the bedroom
I can only guess what life'll be like once I can eat vegetables, drink milk (or water for that matter), and frolic at will, again.
seriously...what the hell am I going to do with myself when I'm feeling better?
oh, I know.
clean the damn house.
whatevs. tootie was a twit. but...I'm rolling with it.
after two days of relative activity (we rode and climbed tuesday then hiked the dogs yesterday)...I crashed. I got a pregnancy migraine.
sooooooooo gross.
they SAY you can take tylenol...but I wouldn't. so I did the next best thing and went to sleep. my lord was my head pounding. new (non-pregnancy specific) nausea had its way with me (ginger tea be damned)...and my skull ached.
then VIOLA! it was gone.
a-men. I love that I'm generally feeling better. I still have my moments...but there are periods of near-normalcy between.
we ALMOST went climbing outside today. even made plans to take a friend with...then I hit a wall and had to bail. so the 'pah is out riding and I'm just glad the house is quiet, lest another killer skull ache drops by to visit.
I realize that I'm also developing my own little superstitious routines. I can drink the ginger tea...but only after three crackers and an orgasm.
I can eat yogurt, but only while watching weeds.
whole grain bread is fine...as long as its toasted no longer than 48 seconds.
cheese is out. screw that. I wanna poo, again.
almost any food is acceptable if it:
a. is not cooked at home
b. is something I would normally never eat
c. is not consumed within 2 hours of entering or exiting the bedroom
I can only guess what life'll be like once I can eat vegetables, drink milk (or water for that matter), and frolic at will, again.
seriously...what the hell am I going to do with myself when I'm feeling better?
oh, I know.
clean the damn house.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Dear Kim,
Give me your maternity clothes.
I will love them and hug them and...
do extraordinarily naughty things in them.
Thanks,
Teh Suki
I will love them and hug them and...
do extraordinarily naughty things in them.
Thanks,
Teh Suki
cock sucking ass eating e-bay bitches!!!!
I keep getting outbid.
dammit!!!
I'm bidding on about 43,000 lots of maternity clothes...and have yet to win ONE.
one!
I hope they get yeast infections.
in other news:
I'm obviously feeling better. (ha!) actually...I am. yesterday I did a whole slew of things I haven't done in a while.
-took a bath
-cooked a meal
-cleaned my disgusting kitchen
-rode my bicycle
-climbed (a little)
-brushed my teeth
-craved a carrot
more important than any single item on this list...is that I did them all...in one day.
I'm still uber scared to even think of going back to work. my job sucks. its stressful and demanding...and the thought of it makes me nauseous beyond belief....
BUT...we're already risking not being able to pay the mortgage next month...so I'm gonna have to suck it up sometime...
sometime soon.
god. just the thought of going back makes me seriously want to cry.
...and puke.
dammit!!!
I'm bidding on about 43,000 lots of maternity clothes...and have yet to win ONE.
one!
I hope they get yeast infections.
in other news:
I'm obviously feeling better. (ha!) actually...I am. yesterday I did a whole slew of things I haven't done in a while.
-took a bath
-cooked a meal
-cleaned my disgusting kitchen
-rode my bicycle
-climbed (a little)
-brushed my teeth
-craved a carrot
more important than any single item on this list...is that I did them all...in one day.
I'm still uber scared to even think of going back to work. my job sucks. its stressful and demanding...and the thought of it makes me nauseous beyond belief....
BUT...we're already risking not being able to pay the mortgage next month...so I'm gonna have to suck it up sometime...
sometime soon.
god. just the thought of going back makes me seriously want to cry.
...and puke.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
glue feet
I'm sleeping too much. I'm waking up in the (beginning) middle (and near end) of the night, heart racing, with all sorts of nightmares.
last night...was glue feet.
I'll spare you the trully boring details (like the 8ft blonde who jipped me in line and almost got her 6 foot hair cut off)...but the jist was thus:
when I needed to run from the bad guys (in the form of rather menacing UGLY and horny teenagers in a dark alley)...
I got glue feet.
couldn't move. incapable of fleeing. stuck...to the emmer effing ground.
oh NO you didn't!
that pissed me off even in the dream.
so I tried to climb. I managed to climb a tiny tree with all the grace of a brown bear...only to end up breaking the limb and landing (wrapped in saran wrap) by the bad guys' feet.
great. I'm gonna get nailed in my own dream by some pimply faced loser boy.
stellar.
the night before last graced me with a werewolf baby, blue skin and a complimentary trip on the maiden voyage of the titanic.
several others include losing my car (literally...just LOSING it. not being able to find it. this one was PARTICULARLY frustrating), the eternal journey from north 10th st to south 10th st that always threatened me with a beating, mugging, or rape via drug dealer, and my dogs' asses opening up and swallowing my bedroom whole.
they stink. they really really stink.
remember months back when I was uber offended by the pregnant chick who came through my house and made a yicky face?
yeah. I'm thinking of writing her an apology note.
these dogs fucking reek. I feel like I live in a (dirty) hamster cage.
no one will EVER buy this house unless I kill the dogs.
so...today's to-do list begins as such:
-kill the hamster dogs
-stop sleeping so fucking much
last night...was glue feet.
I'll spare you the trully boring details (like the 8ft blonde who jipped me in line and almost got her 6 foot hair cut off)...but the jist was thus:
when I needed to run from the bad guys (in the form of rather menacing UGLY and horny teenagers in a dark alley)...
I got glue feet.
couldn't move. incapable of fleeing. stuck...to the emmer effing ground.
oh NO you didn't!
that pissed me off even in the dream.
so I tried to climb. I managed to climb a tiny tree with all the grace of a brown bear...only to end up breaking the limb and landing (wrapped in saran wrap) by the bad guys' feet.
great. I'm gonna get nailed in my own dream by some pimply faced loser boy.
stellar.
the night before last graced me with a werewolf baby, blue skin and a complimentary trip on the maiden voyage of the titanic.
several others include losing my car (literally...just LOSING it. not being able to find it. this one was PARTICULARLY frustrating), the eternal journey from north 10th st to south 10th st that always threatened me with a beating, mugging, or rape via drug dealer, and my dogs' asses opening up and swallowing my bedroom whole.
they stink. they really really stink.
remember months back when I was uber offended by the pregnant chick who came through my house and made a yicky face?
yeah. I'm thinking of writing her an apology note.
these dogs fucking reek. I feel like I live in a (dirty) hamster cage.
no one will EVER buy this house unless I kill the dogs.
so...today's to-do list begins as such:
-kill the hamster dogs
-stop sleeping so fucking much
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