Road Trip

BF and I leave this week to head East to spend the Holiday with his parents and family. I am decidedly concerned about interaction with his father, who is openly racist, even though he is somewhat of a "minority" himself. And his mother, who is openly hot to have her son(BF) marry, ANYONE, so she can have more Grandsons. Note grandSONS, not grandKIDS, hoping for anything as long as it's healthy; no, it's specifically Boys. BF was informed that the New Priest in their Church wants an audience with him; even though he isn't a parishioner because he lives in a different state, but because he's "heard about" BF. Flashbacks from earlier this year shook me from head to toe.

Small recap: Priest visiting from The Homeland requests audience with BF and his new Ladyfriend(me). Conversation is conducted in The Homeland language leaving Ladyfriend(me)completely out of the equation. Ladyfriend(me) finds out later that BF completely exposed the affairs of the bedroom, hence reserving 2 handbaskets to hell. Visiting Priest pushes to have BF announce his engagement to Ladyfriend(me) after four long months of dating. Ladyfriend(me), who is a modern independent woman, is further disgusted and horrified when Visiting Priest inquires via translator (BF's father), "Can you COOK???"
Flash to present where I forcefully inform BF that our personal life is a restricted topic and he is to inform New Priest that he needs to M.Y.O.B.
Which I'm sure won't happen and I'll once again be blamed for BF's decent into a morally corrupt life.
"Damn American girl!!!"


P.S. Props to [redacted] who inspired me to learn to add pics and just now, how to add a link!

Not Good

I've officially maxed out a credit card. Target. Yes, I can no longer be assured of fabulous deals on laundry detergent and shampoo because stepping foot through the electronically opened doors can no longer occur.

To top that off, our fabulously spineless boss has committed the faux pau of promising us our raises before the Christmas break and then reneged by telling us that really might not actually happen.

I'm going to have to prostitute myself in order to buy eggs.

Which in my case, means I'll starve.

Tell Me Again?

Someone please tell me again why, WHY, it is considered a right of passage as an adult to be a homeowner? I don't do anything differently in my home that I couldn't have done in a maintenance free apartment, other than paint the walls and tear up the carpet. But I'm speaking more on a daily basis type of thing. I'm certain walking about the home in my panties would have been just as easily accomplished in an apartment. And when the rains of the last few days started running down the walls in the basement, I would have simply called the apartment manager to get someone out to fix it, instead of wailing to my mother at 7am that " I don't want to do this anymore!!!" i.e. be an adult and "own" a home. I am poorer than I have ever been in my life. I've actually almost maxed out a credit card, another first, albeit it's a clothing store card, I tend to spend when I'm at my wits' end(good shirt slogan!), and I've gone over on my miles on my lease for this year, and I still have the rest of the month to go. I blame the mileage issue squarely on BF's shoulders since driving to and fro from his place adds an extra 8 miles each round trip. This may seem trite, except when you do the math. 8x6=48 extra miles a week. 48x4=192 extra miles a month. That of course doesn't add in the trips to the grocery store or out to dinner because I'm the last one in driveway, so we might as well take my car. Then there's the added expense of trips. Home for the holidays to mom and dad’s (I'm still trying to get out of that one) and the best friend's wedding that just HAD TO BE held at a tropical destination during high season. Trying finding reasonable airfare for THAT!
Stress and I do not compliment each other.
Adulthood Sucks.

Hot Cheese!

Today at work I was reheating a PMS related snack, Cheese Bread(a leftover), when a small drop of the melted gold fell onto the pan. I took my fork and speared the cheese glob, or at least thought I did, when moments from my watering lips the glob fell from the fork onto my slightly exposed breast(read low cut top). It took mere seconds to register that the glob was burning my breast. So while standing the in the highest traffic area of the office, the kitchen, I'm fishing around my in my top for a burning glob of cheese. Just around the corner I hear two male co-workers chatting. Myself feel-up becomes more frantic. Convinced that the burning glob is not lodged between the underwire and my skin I do the "shake it lose dance" and am immediately gladdened when said glob falls to the floor, now a cold lump of artery clogging fat. I am left with a small amount of dignity because I was not discovered feeling myself up, however that was slightly tarnished by the grease stains left on my blouse, right over my breast, by the heartless melted gold.





In other news, BF won out in the bedding battle by complaining that my comforter, which I love dearly, is too heavy, "it chokes" him (which I couldn't help but picture oversized comforter hands wrapping around his throat attempting to choke him in great cartoon style) and too small for the bed. It was the size issue that won me over, and I have added to my credit card debt even more by purchasing a new "quilt" that is almost the exact color of my walls and therefore finding the bed has become a new fun challenge.

International Drunk Dialing

My very good friend with whom I got exceptionally drunk with in "When aspirin isn't Enough" drunk dialed me from across the pond. Needless to say, she was drunk, as was her husband whom encouraged her to do the dialing. We haven't had a full on conversation since they were here a few months ago, so I was surprised when she casually asked, "So, when's the wedding?" I said I didn't know, but does this mean you approve??? In her Britishized American accent she informed me, "Oh Adult, he's Lovely." The conversation of course went on to dresses and what-not that I'm already semi-planning to do. Thankfully BF was in the other room engrossed in Dateline or something and was unable to hear that her future dieting plans are dependent on his future(hopefully) proposal.

I've been ordered to inform her promptly when the event occurs so that she may book the appropriate flights and arrival time so that we may once again discover why aspirin isn't enough, and most likely, why you don't do the bachelorette party the night before the wedding.

Pluck that Again

The other day I discovered a very long dark hair on my chinny-chin-chin. I know that this wayward hair often sprouts it's manly head, but I usually catch it long before it's long enough to braid. For some reason( read: too busy with BF to do proper grooming) I completely blanked on it this time around and was horrified to find it waving back at me in the mirror one evening. I promptly plucked it, as a girl is wont to do, all the time wondering why none of my female friends or BF pointed it out to me. Surely, at least BF was close enough to notice it. And nothing was said.

My faith in the human race took a blow that day, it truly did.

Corporate Conehead

I have a co-worker. She took over my old position. A few years after we hired her, we hired someone else to 'help' her because of the 'massive amount of work.' It is common knowledge that my replacement does nothing much. To the point that her 'helper' now assigns the tasks that need to be done. My replacement ducks works to the point that she walks the office giving everyone a copy of the daily newspaper. I wish I had that kind of free time(ok yes I Blog instead. whatever.) Today, when she came around I got snippy with her, to which she replied, "meee-oow". She's 50.

Now, I can't help but point out that her bringing the paper around cuts out the possibility of ME wasting time by going and GETTING the paper myself. Who is she to deny me my own time wasting time? Who, I ask, Does she THINK SHE IS???!!!!!!????!!!! Only the evil use their time wasting time to deny others their own time wasting time.

EVIL.

Hearts and Flowers

Last night I confessed to my Mom that BF loves me. Oddly enough, she seemed happy to hear the news. Every time we have a conversation involving BF she gets defensive on my behalf. I always feel that I must defend him and clear up the misunderstanding that he is an evil foreigner (foreigner yes, evil no). I think she may becoming around to my side. This is good, because everyone who is not related to me (read co-workers) keeps asking if I expect a ring this year. Yes, Yes I do expect a ring this year, or at least soon.

I think he is stockpiling down payment money, but I'm not letting him know that I know.

Actions Speak Louder

Brace yourself, I'm going to get political.
In the past week I've heard and read much about the Pope's "comment" that was made whilst addressing the German populous. The Islamic Leaders are outraged and upset about a piece of text written a few centuries ago. You have to ask, or at least I do, If this "letter" was so damning to Islam, why was it never publicly denounced by them before now? They are demanding an apology from the Pope, and even THAT won't be enough they claim.
Now the Islam followers are all up in arms, burning churches. I can't help but notice, as should you, that burning a church, of any domination, pretty much makes you a bad person. Which, um, is exactly what the letter from the 1400 said to begin with, is it not?
Say it with me people, Actions Speaker Louder than words. So go ahead and SAY you are a peace loving religion as you launch a fire bomb at the local church, we'll all understand. And I'm sure a Public Apology will certainly be enough to cover the damage of the burned churches by your peace loving followers.

Islamic militants vow war after pope comments

“We shall break the cross and spill the wine ... God will (help) Muslims to conquer Rome ... (May) God enable us to slit their throats, and make their money and descendants the bounty of the mujahideen,” said the statement, posted on Sunday on an Internet site often used by al-Qaida and other militant groups.

Yes, Peaceful, so very peaceful.

Bedding Battles

BF and I have vastly different ideas about what type of bedding should be placed on the bed. Growing up poor, ok, semi-poor, my parents turned the heat WAY down at night in the winter, so in order not to wake-up an icilce, the blankets were piled high. To this day I love the house cold and the bed heavy with the warmth and comfort of many blankets. Plus, being a Mortgage Owner, keeping the house cold cuts down on the heating bill. BF, for whatever reason, I have yet to get a straight answer out of him, is anti-top sheet in the winter. He sleeps directly under the comforter, with the heat still up. Needless to say I don't sleep very well at his place being too hot and the blankets are not heavy enough. As the nights have gotten colder I went out and purchased a light blanket to place on his King Sized Bed in order to cut down on his complaints of "I'm freezing!!" How you can be freezing when the house is at 72 degrees is beyond me, but anyway. The other day he informs me that this winter we will have to have separate blankets because he likes to cocoon himself in the bedding. Yes, I discovered that everytime I got up to go the bathroom, and came back to find there were no blankets left to cover me because he had made himself into a boyfriend burrito. When spending the night at my house, he kicks off the top sheet, but complains of being cold, so I give him an extra blanket. I'm really stuck on the whole top sheet thing. Where in the world do you learn to sleep without a top sheet? If you get even slightly sweaty during the night the top sheet is a barrier between you and the "Dry Clean Only" comforter. Without said barrier you are constantly shelling out for the "Dry Clean Only" comforter to be cleaned because it, well, stinks after having 2 people sleep under it. I've gotten used to not having everything tucked in, but the sheet thing, I don't wanna have to do extra loads of laundry just because he has top sheet issues. This may seem trivial, but think back to the last time you got all hacked off because someone replaced the TP "upside down". Hmmmmm????

BF fessed up that Momma has been harking on the whole wedding issue.

"If she was from The Homeland, you'd be married by now." She informed him last week.

So I asked, "Does she really like me, or does she just want you to get married for the sake of being married??"

"For the sake of being married." Came his too quick reply. Ok, so I'm not getting the Daughter-in-law of the year award.

"Does she understand that we're not from some small village where your parents know my parents and we grew-up together and have known each other forever? We haven't known each other forever you know, not even a year yet."

"No, they don't get it."

"They need to get it."

"I know. I told her if she asks again I won't call her anymore, and if and when it does happen, I'll call her and tell her."

I'm telling you, the woman has my "Good China" picked out and the children named already, I swear.

Waiting for White

BF and I have reached and passed the 9 month mark. With this knowledge my Crazy Best friend has begun planning "The Wedding." She's addicted to "Whose Wedding is it Anyway?", and has a million ideas about how to save money. I caught her fever and we proceeded to pick the menu, the church, and the reception hall, only after of course, making the guest list, my side only. She wanted me to ax seven people whom are distant friends because, "Adult! $20 a plate times 7 equals $140!!!!" Probably good she lives so far away. All the venues I'm sure will change once I see them in person versus seeing a one dimensional view over the web. And of course, once BF has his say about what he'd like to see. CBF and I have not yet broached color scheme and dresses, but I'm sure that's not far behind. She claims that the more stress and planning we get out of the way now, the more I can focus on my "bling ring" once I actually get it. Which, BTW, BF continues to tease me with the horror of CZ in as many carts as my pudgy finger can hold without a wheelbarrow. At least he's teasing right? Not breaking down the door to run the other way. He gets a kick out of making me squirm when it comes to The Ring. I've a very specific idea about what I want. And shallow though it may seem, at my 30something years I feel that something that one would have been able to get(afford/been happy with) in their early 20s greatly changes in their 30s, where jobs and homes have most likely already been established.

BLING BABY!

Ahem, sorry, I lost my composure for a moment. Is it really all about the meaning or "symbolism" of the ring? Yes, I'm sure it is. But "the meaning" can be interpreted in several different ways, don't you think? Just think of the last ugly gift you got. How did that make you feel? Like the person giving the gift either A)Doesn't know you all that well and hence the ugly, or B) They don't care and hence the ugly, or C) They didn't want to get you anything anyway and hence the ugly. I hope this proves my point. Maybe not, maybe I've just dug my own hole even deeper with the world at large. But I know what makes me happy:

BLING BABY!

Seriously, I love him, and I'm sure it'll all work out the way it's suppose to.

And here I was just last month complaining of the Momma Push down the aisle. Oh how times have changed.

When Aspirin isn't Enough

A long time friend visited this weekend. And we drank, and we chatted, and we drank, a lot.


Lesson learned: Drinking the entire contents of your "liquor cabinet" not only makes you horribly, horribly ill, but it also leaves you nothing to drink when you return to work on Monday, and realize that everyone is a complete dolt and hence you will need a drink when the day ends, but you have nothing, because you drank it all, and are too "house poor" to replenish your supply.

How Stupid ARE You?

People in this world are overtly stupid. People in this world lack basic, common sense, or, in the words of my mother, "You don't use the good sense God gave ya." And yes, it was directed at me, but I've since stood in the "Common Sense" line and had my card re-stamped. So it is with my stamp that I make the list of just how stupid people are.

1. During an unprecedented heat wave in my area recently, the kind where they tell you on the News to drink tons of water and then tell you the tally of those that are deceased because of said heat wave, You, oh stupid one, are out Jogging, in a Sweatshirt.
2. We are currently headed towards a "Gas Crisis", which means there are long lines at the Stations whom have gas 5cents cheaper then everyone else. You, oh stupid one, pull into line in such away that you trap those of us already at the pump, at the pump. Hence preventing you and 4 other people from getting gas and creating a massive tie-up.
3. I have ordered pizza for everyone for lunch, I've sent out the e-mail stating that I am ordering pizza for everyone for lunch, I have walked the office announcing that the pizza I ordered for everyone for lunch has now arrived. You, oh stupid one, come and tell me that the pizza has arrived.
4. I have created a list comprising over 2,000 names of "important" people. You, oh stupid one, having looked at the list of 2,000 plus names, demand to know why 2 random people are missing, and I should know this off the top of my head.
5. You are currently entrenched in a huge project with an ever looming deadline. You snap at people who ask for your help, when it's your job to help, saying you haven't the time to help. You constantly complain that you have too much to do and not enough time to do it. You can be spotted throughout the workday leaning in doorways, chatting gaily. You purposely work part-time, instead of full-time. You, oh stupid one, take an entire week off, mid-deadline.

And this is my other Cousin Darryl......

BF met the extended family this weekend; and Yes, we are still together. He's met them before, but it was a whirlwind of just a few hours. This was a day and a half. He apparently dislikes the same family members as I do, but for a few different reasons. He hasn't even met EVERYONE yet. Half the family was missing. It will be a joy and a true pleasure when he meets the Other Side of the family, the racist bigoted side, what with him being a minority and a foreigner? Ah yes, it shall be a love fest for all, I'm sure.
Interestingly enough, I think BF may have proposed twice this weekend. How, you ask, could I not possibly know if it was an actual proposal or not? One was uttered in the post coital cuddle,

"Will you be mine forever?"

I responded simply in the words of Prince, the midget man of music and sexuality, "Forever's a mighty long time."

But my mind was racing: Was that a proposal? Should I say Yes? Do I want to say Yes? Should I ask him if it was a proposal? Could this be any more like Will and Grace when Woody Harrison asked Grace to marry him during sex?

The second, in response to my quiet rant about not having kids and a husband,

"You could have both those things quite easily."

I called him out on this last one:

"Is that a proposal BF?"

"No, I'm just sayin."

Emhm, and I'm just not buyin it.

Maid to Order

Last night BF begged me to help him clean his house for the impending Rents' arrival. I looked at the scattered mess of dirty dishes, papers, mail, clothes, shoes, DVDs, CDs, VCR tapes, magazines, tools and various "parts" to things and felt the immediate need to head for the hills. My eyes met those big brown puppy dog eyes and I resisted the urge to roll them and sigh.

"But, I don't know where any of your stuff goes. Or what I could and couldn't throw out."

"I'll tell you. Please Adult, I really need your help. And I helped you."

Ok, now let me clarify his statement of "I helped you." When I bought my house everyone I knew was asking me to have a party, so I did, but I needed help with certain BF-related things, like hanging a bathroom mirror, and shelves and a little plumbing. This is what he "helped" me do. When I declared the night before the party at 8pm that I would be pulling an all nighter to clean, he disappeared at 10pm, I was up til midnight and still didn't finish. Since he has bought his home, which I went with him to see almost all 70+ homes, I rounded up the people to help him move and moved him, I helped him pick out paint, a mattress, a bedroom set, and am currently on the lookout for a new dining-room set. I also actually painted with said paint, which I got him a discount on. I helped him do the initial cleaning, which we never finished because the painting needed to be done. (Totally backwards from my female point of view.) He also lived with me through all this. And, he continues to borrow my mower, weed wacker and leaf blower instead of buying the one that he saw that "...was a really great deal." I guess, what I'm getting at is, my debt has been paid. Ok, yes, as a GF I shouldn't be keeping track, but really, the give and take is becoming more take than give here people. However, knowing the hurt feelings and fight that would ensue if I did indeed head for the hills, I stayed, and cleaned. You have no idea how hard it was to do this. I mean really, people who clean for a living, how DO you know where to put stuff??? I know at one point I was throwing "clean" clothes down the basement stairs into the laundry, but they had been on the floor for so long, they certainly qualified as being dirty again. All the papers and mail, where was that to be placed?? The confusion was only made worse by the swirling tornado of dust that was created from disturbing the "order" of things.
Somehow, I managed to finish, sweaty and dirty, but you can now actually SEE the floor, instead of just trusting that it is there as you take a precarious step.

Say it ain't so......

So the other day while laying in bed taking a nap, BF snuggles up to me and says,

"I miss this. Us being together. I've felt like we've been so distant with each other the last few weeks."

My heart skipped a beat. Distant? First off, where does my BF get off using Female Speak? When have you EVER heard a Male say, without prompting from Dr. Ruth, that the woman in his life has been Distant??? Secondly, how did I, a woman who feels Sheryl Crow's song "Strong Enough" and Meredith Brooks' "Bitch" were written specifically about her, find a man who is actually, SENSITIVE??

"Distant? We've been together everyday." I said while racking my brain to see if I had been a horrid bitch without realizing it.

"I know, but it just seems like things have been, different. "

Dear lord, he was right, my heart sank. I HAD been feeling the need to pull away from him, sometimes he can be a tad suffocating. And here he was, telling me that he noticed and all I could do was make stupid Male comments.

"Really? You think so? We've been really busy."

"I know." He mumbled unconvinced.

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he knew I was deflecting the real issue. Me, putting distance between us, knowingly.

"You still love me, right?" he asked quietly.

OH! I've become the man in the relationship! That is so wrong, so very wrong. And a cold emotionally stunted man at that.
I practically dislocated a vertebrate because I tried to turn over too fast, I didn't quite make it since he was spooning me.

"OF COURSE I DO! What in the world made you ask that?"

"I was just checking." came the child like reply.

I don't deserve this man, I honestly don't think I do.

My crazy is going to break his sweet heart.

Why is it?

Would someone please explain to me why in all the wide world we are EXPECTED to celebrate the birth of co-workers? someone we would otherwise have nothing to do with? My group within the greater office is quite famous, and often looked down upon, for these Expressions of Celebration. We shell out for a card, granted spilt between 12 people is about 10 cents, but then for cake and for lunch. As any Mortgage Owner knows, money can be deathly tight, as is my case. And the added $12-15 dollars each month can be more than my overworked credit card and checking account can handle. Shame on me for wanting electricity instead of cake. You can call me cheap, you can call me a Grinch, but you'd be calling FOUL if you had to put up with the same crap that goes on in this group each time we celebrate two people having sex without a condom.

"Who's turn is it to buy the card?"

"Who's turn is it to "make" the cake?"

"Where are we going to lunch and who's turn is it to make the reservations?"

And that of course leads us to, "Well I MADE a cake when it was MY turn, she just went to the store."

"That cake, card, lunch was better than what I got."

"I drove to lunch LAST time, remember?"

None of these exchanges are said in all the sugary sweetness of those sugar cake decorations either, may I remind you.

When I made the ULTIMATE mistake of suggesting that we no longer celebrate these sexual faux pas that caused births, I was told in no uncertain terms that, "Not everyone has a family like yours or mine where they get together to celebrate birthdays."

So yes World, you are responsible for the happiness, mental and emotional well being of your Co-Workers, for whom you fill the void left by uncaring and cold family members.

You know, if their own family doesn't like them, why should I?

Momma said there'd be.......

Last night while laid out across BF on the couch his phone rings, it's Momma(his mother).
I tried to listen to what he said the best I could while keeping one eye and ear tuned into The King of Queens.

"Ha hahahaha, Momma. pause It is too funny. pause It'll happen when it happens Momma."

It is at this point I realize that once again she is questioning him as to when we'll be getting married. Apparently the Rents don't hate me for being mouthy. Apparently, even though we've been dating less time then it takes to gestate a human baby, we're ready to be wed. Our eyes meet and he immediately covers my mouth with his hand. I started yelling my protests and flailing my arms, which only makes my muffled ranting seem all the more crazy.

"Yes Momma I know. pause There's no sense in talking about that right now, it's done. It'll make me mad. pause Ok, yes, bye Momma."

I'd begun to gnaw at his hand shortly before the conversation was over. He finally released me and I began firing questions at him.

"What did she want to know now that'll happen when it happens?"

"When we're getting married. 'We're not getting any younger' you know."

"Why won't you let me speak for myself? Let me tell her to back off."

"You want me to hand you the phone next time?"

Ah, there it is, he catches me in my fear of confrontation. I consider before answering, " No, I have a hard time understanding your mom with her accent. It's really heavy sometimes."

"She speaks fine. This is just how things are done in "The Homeland." "

"We're not IN the "Homeland." " I replied weakly.

"I know we're not."

And yet, as we sat there silently watching the commercials, we both felt ourselves booking a reservation for "The Homeland" and all it's cultural pitfalls.
I won't even get a cool stamp on my Passport if I go the way of "The Homeland".
How is that fair I ask? How is it?????

Semi-Public Restrooms

I was wasting time with a co-worker today when she looks me in the eye and says, "Can I be mean for a sec?"

I considered her statement, wondering if the mean was going to be directed at me or not, "LOL, like you have to ask!" I'd decided to take a chance.

"Ok, so like when you are at work and you have to go "#2", don't you use the handicap stall?"

Let me explain about the female office restroom. We actually have a nice Ladiesroom, with a cupboard where each female has her own cubie to keep certain feminine products. There are 2 stalls like in any other public restroom, where you can go shoe-peeping without reprocusions, but we also have a handicaped "stall" which is like a real bathroom with real walls and a real door, there's no shoe-peeping going on here. What makes it the "Handicap" stall is that is has metal supports bolted to the walls. Because of it's Real Bathroom like set-up, and the obivous lack of a handicaped co-worker, this "stall" has the unwritten distinction of being the one to use for "#2".

"Well yes, of course."

"OK, so why doesn't GC use it? I mean, really."

"Yes, I know, it gives more..... containment, so everyone else doesn't have to, experience it."

"Right. Or use the one upfront."

"I don't think she's a washer either, I think she's just a wetter."
(Washer=Someone who uses soap & water after using the bathroom. Wetter=Someone who only rinses their hands, no soap is used. Walker=someone who just walks out, not a washer and not a wetter.)

"Oh! Don't say she's not a washer!" Insert grossed out face here.

I nod my head grimly.
I mean really, how can you sit across from someone at the meeting when you've just had a containmentless, walker experience with them?

Like Sands Through the Hour Glass....

The last few days were spent with Crazy Best friend in Cheese Head Country. I ate a horrifying amount of cheese and discovered a beer named after a small rodent like creature. I also realized I'm just not able to recover as quickly from drinking as I used to be. However, all was good until she started analysis my relationship with BF. "You have to break down the walls Adult. You have to let him in....blah blah blah." And as she was shuffling me off to the plane back home the next day,

"Remember Adult let down your walls where BF is concerned. Don't EVER CHANGE!"

Um, can we say Oxymoron? I realize the "Don't Ever Change" was meant along the same lines as "BFF" and "Stay Cool 4 Ever" yearbook type sayings, but, Seriously?

Upon my arrival home BF tells me he confronted his Rents about their lack of initiative when it comes to their visiting their out of state son.

"I talked to my Rents about coming out here. I dropped the F-Bomb on my mom I was so mad."

"Oh, ouch, how'd it go?"

"They're coming. I told them what you said about not going to visit them again until they come out here."

OMG! OMFG!!!!!!! HE DID WHAT!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!? I could feel the Rent hate vibing towards me across the thousands of miles. Mind you I imparted this bit of girlfriend advance after the visit out to see them and was dragged kicking and screaming to see countless, faceless, relatives to which I had barely 20 words to speak. They quite literally speak a different language, and I'm not talking one that would be covered by High School Spanish either. Upon listening to one of his many rants about the Rents and their non-visiting status I laid down the threat of all threats, We don't visit until they do. This threat of course was never to be linked to me. I was to be Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects, just limpin along to the music, smiling like the good girlfriend completely in the dark about how or why they finally decided to visit. Instead, he makes me Stephen Baldwin, and you know Stephen NEVER gets out alive.

"You did what???? You told who WHAT?!?!?! Are you crazy??!?!!?! Shit! Now I'm just not the wrong color(culture) I'm mouthy and opinionated to boot!!!!!!! "

My horror at my new label was met with laughter, and then he got out the macaroni and cheese to make for dinner.

Midnight Manhandling

There I was, curled up and hugging the edge of the bed while BF snored, and not lightly, next to me. The breathing became normal and I thought that I might actually be able to fall asleep within the next 30 seconds before he started up again, when I felt it, a warm man hand sneaking into my panties. It patted my hinny lovingly and rested there for several seconds. My mind raced, Is he awake? Is he trying to wake me up for some late night hanky-panky? Do I WANT to be awake for some late night hanky-panky? But before I could decide on which course of action to take, it retreated back to where it came from. I lay there, stunned, but then chuckled to myself before snuggling into my pillow to block out the snores which soon followed.
When morning broke I poised the inquiry, "So what was the deal with you last night?"

"Huh?"

"In the middle of the night you snaked your hand into my panties and
rubbed my tushy."

"I DID? Seriously?"

"Oh yeah you did. You don't remember it?"

"No."

"You didn't do it on purpose?"

"Ha, no I didn't."

We both laughed it off. Little did I know.
A week passes. Once again, hugging the edge of BF's King sized bed, I felt the sheet begin to move. And there it was, another Midnight Manhandling was occurring! This time I think my left cheek was squeezed.

Again as daylight shone through the window I say to him, "You did it again last
night."

"Did what?"

"Rubbed my tushy."

"Again???? Wow, I just don't remember doing it." He shook his head puzzled.
I smiled and kissed his nose.
The next night I was Manhandled twice. I'm beginning to grow suspicious of his memory loss.

Conspiracy Solved

Diary conspiracy has been solved. Diary was left laying on footstool in guest room.

Thank You Watson.

Mistakes Have Been Made

So the BF discovered the Diary. And he keeps asking what I've written about him. Not good. I've been keeping a Diary since the ripe old literary age of nine. I'm putting my trust in him that he has not actually read said Diary, even though it was left out in the open. Of course said Diary is now missing........
Upon inquiries about past Diaries I hauled them out, about 12 in all, so that he might discover the "juicy stuff" about my life before he came along. I figured that reading items of my life B.B. (before bf) wouldn't harm anything. Since I barely have enough juice in my life time to flesh out a small mandarin orange. Ah, how wrong I was. He cracked open the first Diary and "Love Letters" began falling out. Do you feel the room beginning to spin?

Oh, but wait, grab a wall, it gets better. There was an actual stack of love letters and cards from the most recent Ex stacked neatly between the Diaries, and they screamed for his attention:

"What are these?"

"Oh, wow, I'd forgotten about those." (holy shit, holy shit hid them! This could be trouble)

"Who are they from?" as he flips over the envelope examining the word play concerning my given name.

"Those are from Ex. He liked to write me. " (give them back! Stop reading!!! Thank the gods I refrained from wrapping them with pink ribbon and a bow.) I gather them up and toss them across the bed.

"Here, this Diary is from my college years, that should have some juice."(Deflect! Distract! Look at the shiny gold leaf pages!!!!)

"Why are you keeping something from someone you claim to dislike so much??"

(Insert Bridget Jones' : FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK subtitle here)

"I forgot they were there, I should burn them." ( please don't ask the light the match.)

"Do I need to write you love letters too?"

"If you want to, that's up to you. He liked to write while he was away working at camp." (Let it go, please please please)
I shove them farther away and cozy up with BF and the shiny Diary.... "Let's see what kinda juice we have here."

He seemed to be deterred, for the moment. How do you explain to BF that ExBF was the first man who not only Told you he Loved you but also put it in Writing? That's something I just can't seem to let go, am I wrong here? Am I tempting fate by keeping proof that someone outside my bloodline loved me at one time?

So let's reflect on the mistakes: 1) Left Diary out in the open for BF to discover.
2) In order to distract BF from current Diary containing info about him, old Diaries are unearthed, along with Love Letters from Ex.
3) Telling BF that said Love Letters are from the Ex.

What we shall NOT do is tell BF about Blog. No No No NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Who Dressed You?

Do you ever have those days when you go to use the restroom and you go to undo your pants or skirt and you don’t remember getting dressed that morning? I refer to it as “dressing haze”. You are so preoccupied with thoughts about what needs to be done that day, issues at work, home, school, you name it, that you pull things on that “match”, or don’t need to be ironed, well, TOO badly, and when you finally get where you are going you look down and think, “When did I put THIS on?” This often goes hand in hand with the “deodorant sniff”, the same thing happens, but you can’t recall slathering on the anti-smell cream. “Deodorant Sniff” test ensues.

Things I’ve learned since becoming an “Adult”

("Adult" : having a mortgage)

1) Being a “blonde” is not cost effective. I have been demoted to a lemon juice blonde, and that only works during the summer. Forgive me my roots in the dead of winter.

2) Using a credit card to buy groceries is as sad a state of affairs as I thought it was when I was in my 20’s and all I EVER needed to get chips and Vodka was my Debt card.

3) Living in the “Burbs” means parking in the street so that your neighbor is completely cluster fucked when trying to back out of her extremely narrow new driveway onto an even narrower street.

4) Having school aged (high school that is) kids in the neighbor is a complete bitch when you are grasping the last bits of sleep before dragging yourself to work, and their carpool buddies thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to lay on the horn at 7am. *Clue* It’s not acceptable.

5) Having “Shade Trees” in my yard is great in the summer, a complete raking horror in the fall.

6) Being an “Independent woman” means cleaning out your own gutters because you can’t afford to have someone do it for you.