oh me. oh my.

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

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

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

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

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

sounds like {my}...tastes like chicken

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

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

got super duper {opposite of low}.

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

I do not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

excerpts from the super secret suki journal

vacation log

stardate 06.09.07 2100 hours

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

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

LEAVE IT ALONE"

06.10.07 1200 hours (ish)

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

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

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

Consider it...market research"

06.14.07 0345 hours

DONE

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

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

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

go.
go.
go.

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


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

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

!!!FUCK!!!

I want out..."

soooo....

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

I learned my lesson.

NEVER go on outings:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

consider me...inspired.

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

and I'm off

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

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

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

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

...with sunburn and sand in my cooter.

have a ball ladies and gents!

vhat I doing wrong am?

three rides at blue marsh.

two flat tires.

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

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

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

roots

did a two hour ride at blue marsh today.

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

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

not even for a second.

liberation!

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

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

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

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

whoa.

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

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

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

nice.

I better take up my kung fu again...

to keep him from getting his ass beat.

yay.

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

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

I needed exercise...bad.

I feel better now.

sleepy. not bored.

:D

stir crazy chicken?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


...just annoyed :D

did I mention I'm bored?

I'm also hung-over, too.

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

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

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

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

...all summer long.

aack! eek! and omf'ing gawd!

the school year...it hath ended.

I'm jobless.

woot.

I'm bored.

already.

I'm hungry.

lata.

I MUST be drunk...

cause I just identified with this:

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

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

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

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

no more cheap wine, eidah!

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

apparently I'm madhotsexyyouknowyouwantme when:

a. tipsy

I hear bonie chicas are hot, yo.

b. the kid holds the camera

we'll eat your babies.

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

does this dog make me look fat?

d. braless.

mommy, is that your nipple?

enjoy!

odd

(today whilst shopping)

julie: dood. your eye looks a little red

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

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

three minutes later:

julie: umm...your eye!!!

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

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

skeeved.

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

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

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

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

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

as my niece zayla would say

"its weally fweaky"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

talking 'bout life.

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

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

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

well, kinda like an orca...

..but with a hebrew accent.

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

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

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

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

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

rather brief.

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

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

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

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

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

I'm soooo laughing on the inside.

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

nope. she wants to argue.

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

ahahahahahahahah

now, I'm laughing on the outside.

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

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

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

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

VIVA LA VEGETABLES!!!

your opinions, please

the hair...

it must to go.

some options include:

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



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

cast your votes. it goes down soon...