Check ya later

All due respect to Slater from Dazed and Confused.

Well, kiddles, as of 8:30 tomorrow morning I'm leavin on a jet plane. I'm going on a long overdue vacation to the mountaynes...

There's fresh snow and it's sunny and in the 40's. I'm going back to the place where I lived (loved, etc) for three years and is my second home (not second home in a John McCain way, but in a part of my heart lives there way)

I'm going with a friend who is a "newer" friend; someone with whom I haven't spent much more than a few hours around. I'm really hoping it goes super well, cause she's fab.

I'm going to eat BBQ (yes, kickass BBQ in the mountains) and pizza and the only Mexican food I like and fancy food cause my dad is paying.

I'm looking forward to seeing old friends. The people who don't give a crap what I look like, because well, no one cares what you look like there. Just as long as you can buy rounds of drinks.

So my pets, I'll catch you on the flipside.


My girl wants to party all the time

*Authors Note: I wrote this several days ago. I've been neglecting to post it, I don't know why. I'm not entirely sure people want to be reading about this shit, but it helps me to analyze and look for patterns in my own behavior by having it "in print". So if you're bored with this, I'm sure I'll write something else soon.*

Next on the list is OWC. Yes, OWC stands for something, but he knows what it stands for and he’s the type to Google it and find “my little corner of the internet”.

So, I happened to work with this gentleman. Yes, I know the “don’t shit where you eat” expression. He actually left for a new job shortly after our dalliance started (and for that matter ended).

At any rate, he asked for my phone number about a week before he left. And he called, and we hung out. It was alright for a few days.

Then, he called me at work to say hi. Except he was wasted. And it was 11:30 in the morning. And he was still wasted when we had plans later that day around 5:00.

I asked him why he did things like that. He informed me he “liked to party” and if I didn’t like that, tough shit, that was “who he was”. Oy.

It all went to hell in a hand basket a few days after that (approximately one week after the first date). He told me he really liked me and had told his family about me. Then he asked me to define our relationship.

I told him I wasn’t sure what I thought as it had only been about a week. He hung up and I kind of thought it was done. I was wrong.

He then proceeded to text me angry, incoherent messages at 7:00 am and couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to have “relationship” discussions on a jam packed el. The last text was at 8:00 on a Sunday morning asking where I was and why we couldn’t work things out.

Yep, add it to the list.


Um, thanks?

The Scene: A quarterly meeting of a non-profit that I am on the board of.

"We've taken the liberty of nominating a few of you to head up committees. Dysfunction Junction, we've named you the head of the Fundraising committee because you're so good at asking for money."

*nervous giggle*



…looking at your brain is awesome. Wallace is still there. For a minute there I thought he had left us, but no, I just don’t know how to look at an MRI properly. I was actually more freaked out by the concept that he could disappear at will, like, “well, what if he decides to show up next in my nose?”

Quick rundown of last night and then a few little tidbits. I know my like four readers are anxiously awaiting my every word.

Just a helpful hint to the blogsphere: do NOT schedule medical procedures on Friday the 13th. Things will get cocked up. I showed up 15 minutes early as requested. I then proceeded to wait 45 minutes more. The tech came to get me and just as we get back to the room, she looks at the order and says, “Oh! It says spectroscopy on here.”

“Yes, it does. I told them that when I scheduled this.”

“Oh, well, we only do spectroscopys during the day. You’ll have to come back.”

“Uh, no. I work in the city and live up here. I’m not able to carve out 2-4 hours of my day.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait while we find a doctor to administer this.” (I never actually saw a doctor)

I then ended up waiting another 30 minutes before finally going in and lying face up with my head in a cage for an hour. Then I waited another 45 minutes because they insisted on giving me my films right then and there. I still have to go back to pick up another two sets. And that’s the extremely annotated version of my evening.

What now you say? Well, now I’m eating the chocolates that Bohunk #1 gave me for Valentine’s Day. Let’s move on.

I’m also working on an article for work that will be included in the quarterly newsletter. Yeah, I’ve never written an article before.

Also, I’m working on the next entry for “The Winners List”. You’re all waiting with bated breath, I know.

I’m also trying to think up an interesting tale for Grace’s Stolen Lines #2. As it turns out, I don’t have anything particularly witty to say.

But all is not lost.
The Artful Blogger did me a huge solid and now I’m going to the hockey game tonight. Squee!!

So, kiddles, I hope everyone has a lovely Valentine’s Day and that you’re spending it with whomever you want to be spending it with.


“I’m not so scared I want to lie in bed and eat Fig Newtons”

*Author’s Note: Katie/La-a/Overflowing Brain and Grace have posted really lovely reflective posts, and I'm totally ok with being their followers *

In an effort to have more coherent blogs, I have promised myself I would stop writing whilst hopped up on Ambien. Although, considering its purpose, it would probably be the opposite of hopped up. So, I’m going to try and write things in advance and then read them through a bit.

On Friday the 13th, Wallace will have his second test. It is now three months since he showed up waving his little hand (I imagine him looking similar to the Zoloft egg). My mother has stated he would most likely not be waving; he would be flipping me off.

I understand that this test is one whole week in advance. However, I have decided it’s important for the freak out to start now. And it will most likely continue until I receive the results.

This post is not really about Wallace or tests. It’s about how I’m scared. And about how somewhere along my little sojourn of life, I’ve decided that fear is unacceptable.

I don’t quite know when this all started, and I have no idea why I decided that I need to be the brave little soldier. But now that I have started, I can’t seem to stop. I hate the feeling of being weak and out of control but instead of just dealing with it, I’ve internalized it and turned all the fear into a rock solid shell. I haven’t dealt with the emotions that came up when I first heard about all this crap and as a result I feel forced to pretend that they don’t exist.

When I was a little girl, learning to ski, my father always told me, “No Whining”. He even had a baseball hat with that written on it. I am in no way saying he’s responsible for it. I’ve just managed to turn that ridiculous statement into some batshit crazy mantra for my life.

But life may be a little bit about whining. It’s about letting people in and saying that you are afraid. But not too much, hell, I don’t need to be Stuart Smalley.

I think I need some toffee.


Part Deux...

So I'm trying to figure out how to...well, I guess jump right in. So I guess I'll test the waters gently with my big toe and then sllooooooly sklunk on to this post.

I guess just a quick disclaimer: luckily I have only 3 readers, so the likelihood of anyone thinking I am pretentious, biased, prejudiced whatever is pretty slim, nil & none. This is how I think and feel and this is how I am and if Popeye can be that way then so can I.

Let's start current and move backwards, shall we??

First up, we have Bohunk #1.
We have what you could call a "working relationship" and I do enjoy our time that we spend together once a week. I did initially find him attractive, but in a duct name over your mouth, you're pretty kinda way.

Then the texting started. Fairly benign until a few days ago. Then in a frenzy of drunken texts (his, not mine) Cue to the "I'm scared of the way I feel about you" and "I think about you a lot". Needless to say I promptly deleted all evidence, because in my world, if I can't see it, I doesn't exist.

At this point some one might say, not too bad, maybe just coming on a bit to strong. The texts themselves are barely coherent and speaking with him is not much better. I certainly do not go around spouting Voltaire & Kant but I do desire a bit of current event "banter" if you will.

Any "future" I may have with this gentleman is a youthful hallucination. He is in the personal services industry and performs electrical assistance as needed I suppose. He comes from a small town up north where I am fairly certain they have never met one of The Tribe (as I am).

Insult to injury, he makes unfunny, inappropriate gay jokes which, had I not had an uncle to whom I was closer to anyone on earth die of AIDS-it will still be kinda nauseating.

So, if that's not too much for you, let me know, I've got plenty more where that came from.


Why yes my wall is pretty, it's stucco

So while having dinner with Daisy (and since she's my only reader, hi!!) we were discussing commenting on other bloggers blogs. We've both had moments of sheer glee when said blogger would respond to our comments.

And it got me to thinking. Theoretically, these Titans of the Blog World are ladies/men/whathaveyou too. Why was there nervousness about making comments to them?

And segway into my work with the Doc. Somehow, I always manage to put this boundary up around friends. I always think, "we're not good enough friends" & "why on earth would they want to know this".

As it turns out, part of being friends with someone, is that you DO in fact tell them things. Sometimes things that scare you. Sometimes scary things about your health.

And the thing is, I know this, but for some reason I've been holding people at arms length like a Heisman trophy winner. I worry that I'll come off as needy, so instead of sharing too much, I share almost nothing.

And that's hard...and that needs work and that's all for now.

If anyone is reading (hello again Daisy) I am working on the Winner List. In fact, tonight there was some choice discussion about the latest entry to the list.


The Winner List

So, one of the things the Doc and I decided to work on was my, oh let's say, accumulation of jackasses.

Now mind you, this isn't a poor me, I'm single and need a man post. This is a why do I have a string of ABSOLUTE losers trailing after me post.

I'm not entirely sure how it all worked out this way. I'm fairly conservative (not in politics, but in the way I'm not a lush/drug addict and I like to keep my clothes on in public). I went to tiny little private high schools & colleges. I like to think I'm pretty intelligent.

And yet, I have several exes who have not finished high school and they all seem to have an issue with addictions in one form or another.

So I need work...I'm hoping it's not one of those "you're wounded, I want to help you" sub-concious things. I don't think it's that. I might not be that caring.


Ta Da

I feel as though ta da is not a proper form of introductions. What is the slightly defeated version of jazz hands?

I always vowed I wouldn't begin this blogging thing. I never thought I had anything pithy or clever to say, who would even want to read this?

However, today and my (once monthly CBT therapy session) my doc thought it was wise to increase to two days a month. And trust me, it's not because she enjoys my presence. Although, she is a riot.

Nope, we decided to see each other mutually exclusive to each other for twice a month. All due to the fact that I have at least 8 years worth of mental trauma shoved into the equivalent of a oatmeal canister. My doc thinks it's time to take a pick axe to my anguish hid well underground.

This is a hard introduction and I'm not sure how this could ever be good reading, but I'm going to give it the old college try. I have to attempt to stop storing up my angst as though I'm preparing for a long lonely remainder of my life.

I'm going to at least try to make this something other that the thoughts spewing forth from my nose and maybe some one will read it and maybe somehow it will help.