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?