Buzz Kill

So apparently I'm too negative. Or, okay my posts are negative. I mean...I totally agree. Here's the thing though, what do you want me to write about?? This is life, our country, the world. You can deny it all you want, put a little love in your world, a big old fake smile on your face 24-7 but I'm a Realist. I actually consider myself to be extremely aware of the little things in life. I'm all about it. You know, nature, my family, sleeping in stuff like that. The free stuff. I dig.

Of course that doesn't erase the fact that outside of my own little bubble, things are pretty screwed up. Actually, my bubble gets a little dirty from time to time. That's okay. I'm a regular girl. It happens. Not to worry, things usually have a way of working out. That's pretty much my philosophy. Josh and I have run into so many random problems that we pretty much just let it roll off of us these days. I mean...he'll freak out about new jeans not fitting quite right once he gets them home but for the most part, he's pretty chill. [Hah...love ya babe]

I've found a new hobby in screaming at cats. You just have to do a video search on Myspace for "guy screaming at cats" to find out what I mean. Warning, this is not for the faint of heart. Or...those afraid of a little cursing. The cats are fine. It's the guy you should worry about. Hahaha.

Also, the man has taken to sleeping on his own and not only that, he will take two hour naps by himself in his own crib. If you don't have babies you have no idea why that makes me oh-so happy. Let me just say...It's a winner.

The Quixtar thing...I'm working on it. I haven't read much lately because of the holidays and all. I'm gonna be back on track with everything after the new year, promise. I'm also catching up on some of Ann's articles so...bring on the negative, baby. I guess if you can't stand the heat...well. Whatever. Actually, the ban on negativity that was so big in Quixtar is what made me wary of it in the first place. First they tell you they love you and they're your best friend, BUT you can only talk about the good things in your life? Some best friend. Life is about both ends of the spectrum, and everything in between. It is what it is and you need people who can put up with you in sunshine and rain. That's kind of the point, in my opinion. Find those few people and you're pretty much set. Bad things are gonna happen. Internalizing them does not help. And...if you think I'm good now just wait until I get a therapist. Hah!

I guess I'm really just trying to say this: I don't consider it negative. I consider it the truth. How can the truth be one thing or another? It simply is what it is. You just have to accept that not everything in life is roses, and that's OKAY. A lot of what's happened in my own life so far hasn't exactly been pretty. Does that make my story a negative one? I don't think so.

I guess it's just what you make of it. On one of those stupid survey things I was once asked, "What's the biggest buzz kill?" My answer, Reality. I guess some people prefer to walk around in some kind of life-haze. Not this girl.

Truth, please. And serve it hot.

Uncovering Quixtar Pt.1

I feel like I'm in my own little version of the Divinci Code. I mean...I've never seen the movie but from what I've heard. Eh...okay I'll put it this way: This crap is freakin weird and even more twisted than I originally thought.

I've been reading Merchants of Deception by Eric Schiebler in order to get my questions about the whole "business" thing answered. He was one of the big guns in the beginning and now he's writing this book (which is a free download) to inform the public of the evil that is Quixtar.

I'm a little confused. He seems to have quite an attitude towards the Republican party (and I agree I'm a wee sensitive to this) and that is throwing me off. I know the Diamonds in the biz seemed to push the Righty agenda, but it never seemed overwhelming to me. It's not like they were huge on it. I never heard them criticize homosexuals, or NOW or anything like that like Eric claims. I'm not saying he's wrong. He was part of a different team, after all.

But then today I came across this quote in the book, and it disturbed me pretty deeply.

"Rich DeVos [Amway Founder] is one of the most energetic and dedicated Christian laymen I have ever known. I am never in his presence that I don't feel his strength of character and dedication to the things of God. "

-Billy Graham.




Uhhh...what? I'm not huge on Christians. I think they tend to be on the fake side whatever blah blah we've been through this. BUT...Billy Graham. I admit, I don't think I have personally heard him speak, but he's supposed to be like...IT. Ya know? I mean if he can't smell a rat, who can? Unless of course...he is also a rat.

I think that's what Eric is getting at. I'm a little nervous. On his website [merchantsofdeception.com] he has an entire article on how closely knit Amway (aka Quixtar) and the Republican party are as far as finances go. I'm not sure I understand it, but it makes me physically ill.

These people were my heros.

If you're in to the story behind the Masons (touched on by the movie National Treasure) then you'd probably love the Amway story. It's a modern day version of lies, secrets, scandal, deception and it goes way deeper and is more important than would be obvious upon first glance.

When I first started looking into this, I had no idea what I was getting in to. Now I wish I could take it back.

Who do I look up to now??

Stuff...

I guess it's been almost a month. I keep coming up with things to write about in my head but my head is like those ticker things they use in the New York stock exchange and I can't.friggin.keep.up.

I'm doing that now, being weird with my typing. You probably noticed my grammar is out of whack most of the time but the truth is English is just about the only thing I know. I'm very good at writing, reading, verbal expression in general but...I just like to type in the same style I think. Thus why my sentences are often started with prepositional phrases. I'm simply that cool.

I've been taking these personality tests at similiarminds.com because I think they're actually scientific and because I'm kind of interested in that psychology bull AND because I'm bored between 12 and 1 a.m. I stay up that late for a little time to just be ME and apparently, online quizzes are what me likes to do these days.

But I'm pretty dead tired right now which is why this post will suck. Just to let you know.

Oh...but anyway so I take these personality tests and I got some results that I thought were pretty on and I tried posting it in here because they said that they had the code. Yet, mystically, when I tried to post my results Blogger said the code was missing something. Obviously I won't be fixing it. I'm not that cool. Though I did learn how to italicize.

We're going to have some people over to watch the first season of Lost...AGAIN. I like the people but I'm sick to friggin death of Lost. I have my reasons.

Well I quit. I'm too tired for this.

Thanksgiving Toast

Hehe. What's this? A positive post?

Anyway, it's been a fantastic year and this is the time to say what's been so great about it so here goes.

First of all, I'm thankful for my bestest friend. He's so hot. And he gets me. We can be stupid together, we can be totally serious (and just a little stupid), we can cry, laugh and yell. We can deal with whatever we have to deal with, and make it through. My lover, my man, my best friend. You know who you are.

I'm thankful for the littlest man who is not so little, I guess. My healthy little boy. He makes me smile first thing in the morning (which is not in my nature) and he's got the sweetest soul a human form can contain. To many more years of fun and laughs and firsts, Man.

I'm thankful because even though we haven't got much money, I get to spend my days taking care of my little guy and Josh has his dream job. We have a warm place to live, food on the table, the bills are paid (only slightly late) and we've even got cute, fluffy little dogs this year. We are where we've always dreamed of being and I can honestly say that, complaining aside, we love it here. This hundred year old house is Home. What more can you ask for.

I'm thankful for family and friends who we love ever so much. Even the ones far away. We miss you and we hope you're feeling just as warm and fuzzy as we are. And of course, if you're not, you've got a room here.

I'm am SO thankful for this season. Last years Christmas was a little sad but we're all together this year. I love love LOVE the lights and the music and the smells. I'm so excited to share it with Riley this year.

Okay I'm sure there's' much more. I'm going to get back to that family I've been going on about. Much love, peoples.

Much love. <3

I hate Hollywood

So I was sitting around thinking about what to bitch on today...and this is it!

I actually really do hate Hollywood big time. I hate how people all over this country are suffering and these people roll around in huge piles of undeserved cash and then think they're so frigging wonderful for donating some of it to charities. And donating their time like it was so much more precious than mine or yours.

Whatever happened to the entertainment being lower than the people they entertain? Remember in school when you learned about Shakespeare and he was like dirt poor and all the actors were lower than peasants and the people they entertained were kings and queens? I want that! I mean...gawd. What did they do to deserve this ridiculous worship of the American people? If ever there was an example of how screwed our priorities are, this is it.

Off the top of my head I can think of at least twenty professions that ought to be paid even a fraction of what Hollywood makes. Doctors, teachers, ME. And if you know me I don't even care that much about money. I just don't want to worry about it. But the fact that someone can get paid millions just to play basketball REALLY pisses me off.

And because my man is in the biz I'll throw this out...the producers ought to make WAY more than the stupid actors and actresses. They do the real work. Are you with me?! I don't care if you are, I know I'm right. It's like the country woke up someday and said, "I think I want to pay people for being pretty. Screw talent, screw hard work, screw the average person and the national deficit, let's blow cash on NOTHING!" And then everybody gave a big cheer and blew bubbles. Beautiful.

Not that I don't enjoy a good movie or show. I think they're a fantastic waste of time and I don't know what I'd do without them sometimes. (Except Mario...now those are some people who deserve their money!) I just think we can get it for a lot less. It's too late now, but what if we said, "Ya know what, we've been putting up with this for way too long. You all are going to entertain us, and you're going to do it for a reasonable price." Seriously. Why does Britney Spears have a bigger house than you? What makes her so damn special? Can she actually sing? Is she even really that good of a dancer? If it weren't for Hollywood she'd be down the street at the new strip club just like the rest of the kinda pretty local girls.

What is incredible are those movies like Shrek and the new penguin one. Somebody worked hard on that. Not to mention cute as hell. But the voice actors should make even less. You don't even have to be cute to make a cartoon.

I don't know what I'm saying. It's irritating. Almost as irritating as people who can't spell "Canadian". Especially the ones who actually are Canadian... And they judge our school system.

But I don't hate Canada. Not today anyway. <3

Worth your weight in Gold

I've heard the saying before and I guess I always thought it was pretty stupid. What does it mean, anyway? I think I know now, but I sure as hell wish I didn't. Some lessons are just hard learned.

For some reason, I had decided not to post my true feelings about the Quixtar business we were in or the people in it on here earlier. Who knows why. I'm calling it my "Business hang-over". But here it is, folks. The truth is gonna getcha.

Right before we got out, we introduced this other couple to Mark and Karen. Very soon after, we felt the need to leave. We didn't know why at the time, I'm going to say Divine Intervention. Anyway, our parting was very bitter. Mark, who had claimed to be very close friends with us, made all kinds of accusations and basically treated us very badly for making this decision. Later, they found out that we were going to have a baby and that we were moving and we didn't get any kind of phone call from him until he decided he wanted some books and stuff back from us. He was a complete fake and I'm having a hard time even finding a place to begin telling you exactly how bad this guy was. The problem is they were so under handed. They really made us believe that they loved us, that we were doing what was the best for our future and more than anything, that their relationship with us had nothing to do with the money we were (or were not) making them.

When you're in "the business" you believe these things. I can't explain it, but you do. I'm going to boil it down to good old fashioned brain washing. Hopefully, you'll see what I mean.

The problem with the whole "we are friends no matter what you do for us" story is the fact that they take every possible opportunity to tell you that if you don't do what they want, they won't hang out with you. Mark didn't go on a family cruise because there was a business conference during the same week. He said, "I'm doing what's best for me and my wife." If I was his mother, I would have kicked his ass. But that's off topic. He told us all the time that he never hung out with his old friends because they weren't in the business, and they always suggested that we (his team) should do the same. When the men are educated in "contacting" a sport otherwise known as hunting, they are basically told to make friends with people...until they turn you down. Then move on to the next piece of meat.

Okay...well that's just the nature of the sales business, you say. My issue with that is the big no-no of disguising your business with God. Mark and Karen and the rest of the leaders in the business made us believe they really cared about people. Yeah...you care about people who can make you money. They were constantly calling themselves Christian, inviting members of their team to church and pushing that agenda all the while not really giving a lick about anyone of them. It's been a while since I've participated in church, but if I remember correctly the basic idea behind Christianity is spreading it. If the leaders in the business were really Christians, and they honestly cared about people (and their souls) then wouldn't they, when out contacting, if not share the business, at least share their faith? If they can get out on the street and talk to complete strangers about making themselves rich, could they not get out there and talk about God?

I can't say that none of the business leaders do that, though I've never heard that any of them did, but I know our up line didn't. In fact, we were encouraged not to speak to anyone about anything except the business. Church is for Sunday, people. But don't forget to hit up your youth group for possible victims. Otherwise, prepare to be labeled as "unmotivated".

I have a lot to say about the business and what it contributed to my mental and emotional instability but it's been a long weekend and I can't seem to find all the words. Besides the fact that our supposed "friends" dropped us like hot two-dollar pistols the moment we started to doubt our place in the business, they probably continue to bring us up in stories of what can happen to you when you just can't hang. They did it all the time when people left for various reasons. For example...

Their best friends from college. Really amazing, young Christian couple. I actually liked them, they were good people. One day we noticed that their names were missing from Mark and Karen's little chart of people they'd victimized. When we asked what happened to them, Mark got a really (fake) sad look on his face and said, "They gave up. They are going into the ministry full time. They think they're supposed to be missionaries." He continued to explain how his ministry is through his business and he thought that his friends ought to do the same.

Let me get this straight, Mr. Chrisitanguy. You're saying that your friends went to go do God's work full time and you're sad because they didn't do it your way? I guess he didn't read the part about love of money. And, by the way, who's God in this picture? It always seemed to me that Mark thought he was in charge, and now I know he really thinks he knows everything. I mean...he knows so much as to be able to tell everyone else what God has planned for their life, right? He tried to say the same thing to Josh and I when we left. We didn't buy it. Thank God. The real one.

I guess that's the reason I didn't write something like this sooner. I personally believe it takes all kinds of people to make this world go 'round and that God has different things in mind for everyone. I think you should do what really makes you happy, follow your passion. I guess I thought Mark and Karen and the rest of them had a right to be passionate about the business, even if I wasn't into it anymore. But, as I came out of my post-business haze, I realized that for a year straight they had taught us, and taught us to tell others, that the business is the ONLY way to live life. It's the ONLY real ministry and other people of the world are delusional with their nine to fives and all.

That theory is of course as stupid as the one of evolution because it just isn't possible. If everyone were to do the business and no one had a real job, there would be no products to sell, no one to sign up and the whole thing would flop. We'd be worse off than when we started. But like I said...when you're in it you just don't see these things.

In the business, a person is only worth as much money as they can make you. If they're not making you money, find someone else who will. That's their motto. They have t-shirts and everything. (Of course I'm being sarcastic, if only these people were that easy to spot.)

Today Josh and I attended an event at church and his mom introduced us to this guy who had been sitting at her table. He seemed nice enough, even kind of amusing. We talked about church, kids, he even went so far as to say "It's amazing how you just walk past people without even trying to learn about them." Then he kind of separated Josh and I from the group and gently eased into the conversation that he was part of an internet business. (Josh said I rolled my eyes at this point, which I didn't do on purpose but...yeah.) Josh let him do a little of his shpeel and then finally let him know that we weren't interested. After that the guy pretty much walked away. I mean...he'd seemed so interested but it was all just a lead up to see if he could get what he wanted. When he found out he couldn't, he left. Probably to find someone new. I sure as hell hope he didn't.

I hate the fact that we were used and so delusional and that we actually tried to do the same to our own friends and family. Of course in our defense we were working under the pretense that we were doing them a favor. And I guess that's another reason why I hesitated to write this post before. In their own way, I guess Mark and Karen think they're doing the right thing. You don't see it until you get out. We have an edge over them now, we've had it both ways. They talk about being "free" all the time, but what's free about having other people completely run your life?

The truth will (really) set you free.

White is the new Black

I guess my new thing to complain about is Oprah. I honestly am stuck watching it most days but I'll say this...at least disagreeing with her so much gets my brain juice going again. I guess I'm one of those people who just always has to be angry about something. Good thing I live in America. Oh, which by the way, I'm totally psyched because all the democrats are in power again and I can't wait to watch them screw up. Hahah! It's MY time now, bitches! Maybe I'll go back to the old forums and post every freakin screw up they make and laugh and laugh.....

Okay I'm not really that pathetic. Yet.

So...back to Oprah. I don't know...she was talking about something called High school Challenge Day where all the students learn to love one another and soon the whole country will be immersed in beautiful hippy love. Right. But what irritated me was the way she kept saying to the black kids, "I can't believe in this day and age you are still being persecuted because of your race." Then she said to the senior class, "If you've ever been picked on because of your race, raise your hand." Then they dutifully showed all the black kids raising their hands. Little did they know I was sitting in my living room, raising my hand saying, "So was I!"

I'm white. I have Irish and Italian blood and I basically look like a white girl. 'Nuff said. And I don't know about you but I NEVER EVER saw any black kids being picked on for their race. Actually, in my school, the white kids were scared to death of the black kids. Let me chronicle my "persecution" as a white girl:

Kindergarten: A black boy (who was much older than me) attacked me on the school bus and literally tried to forced my head through a closed, glass window. He just kept banging it on the glass, calling me names and I guess trying to kill me or something. My mom went to the principal to have this boy expelled and we were told that the school couldn't do that. Because he was black.

Middle School: Black girls teased me to the point of tears every day. They hung around only with other black girls and made sure my life was miserable. They broke into my locker and stole stuff from me and what they didn't steal they threw all over the school halls. Then they put their black girl grease in my brush (undetectable to naked eye) so that when I brushed my hair I got greasy crap all in it. They got physical with me on several occasions. Again, nothing was done to reprimand them because they were black.

High School: A VERY large black guy tried to rape me on the school bus on the way home. Again, we went to the principal to have him punished and it turns out I was not the only (white) female to experience this, unfortunately the guy was black and a senior so the school didn't want him to miss graduation. I think they get money based on how many blacks they graduate.

So to say the least I'm a little irritated with the special treatment. What makes it worse is the fact that it's completely disguised because they can just go around saying, "Well I'm black so I need this." and they freakin get it...even though there's already a ton of programs out there for them, they get more scholarships, more state aide, whatever. These people aren't being discriminated against, I am!

I know...slave trade blah blah blah. What they don't tell you in school is that every other race who came to this country were treated horribly too. Maybe not slaves, but beaten to death, discriminated against, run out of town, denied jobs...that kind of stuff. Ask the Irish. I forget the movie, but the one with Leonardo Dicaprio and it's set in Old New York...it's about the persecution of the Irish in America I believe. The Italians were treated badly too. But for some reason we have to give restitution only to the blacks. Our children are only taught about Black history month and are allowed to be beat up on by blacks simply because...they are black.

Talk to me about what it's like to have my skin color this day and age. I think we've paid them our dues, no? I don't expect special treatment for the years I was tortured by those kids and the school system completely ignored it. I'm sure as hell not going to give them any special treatment. Too bad I'm not like...in power or anything. But I will say this, I don't take any shit from them anymore.

I gotta stop watching this crap.

Blah state of Mind

So Riley takes his afternoon nap during Oprah. We also only get like super basic cable, so my options during the day are very few. At four o'clock when the man falls asleep (on top of me I might add) I am stuck with either court t.v. or Oprah. If you've read any of my other posts or if you've even seen the back of my car, you know my politics and Oprah's differ just a little. I actually think she's very bias, and she talks about black suffrage as if it were still going on, and it happens to be my opinion that blacks get more opportunities these days than any other race. But...eh. That's another post.

What I'm getting at is the story from Friday's Oprah. She had Jessica Coleman on via satellite. If you don't remember, she's the girl who had a baby in her bedroom, stabbed it and dumped it in a river. Six years later they find her and stick her in jail and now she's on Oprah, boo-hooing about her pathetic existence. There's a special place in hell for people like her. What struck me though, besides the obvious, was the fact that no one happened to bring up the point that six years ago (and of course today) abortion was completely legal. And probably confidential, though I don't know for sure what the laws are in her state. If this is the mentality, that abortion is an great option for young, confused women to destroy unwanted pregnancies thus avoiding the obvious stab and dump option, then why wasn't it even brought up? I dunno...maybe it's just me but I kept expecting Oprah to ask ever so gently, "So Jessica, why not get the abortion you had every right to get? God knows we Dems right hard for your right to have the option."

I'm not saying that getting rid of abortion is going to change the world (though it very well may. Who knows what potential the unborn have) I guess I was just irritated by the fact that the topic was just ignored. You know everyone was thinking it. I'm completely against killing babies at any stage in life, personally.

And then today in one of those horrible political adds, I saw one candidate call another "Anti-choice" which is a new term for me. Anti-choice, huh. So I guess one could retaliate with the "Well you're anti-babies!" or better yet "I'm rubber you're glue!" and stick a big tongue out. Yeah...that's basically what I think of politics these days.

Also, I heard on the news today that they're picketing something about late term abortions outside of the White House. That can't be good. I mean I just can't remember the last time I saw a...well to put it in their terms...Anti-choice rally. Most these days are basically a big mob opposing anything except abortion. It's a woman's right to put a stick of dynamite in her hoo-hoo if she damn well pleases and I won't hear about anything else!

Blah. There's just no point to a late-term abortion and everyone knows it. Even their best friends science and medicine say there's just no medical reason a woman would ever have to have one. So there.

Ugh. I need to get out more.

When I say shotgun, you say wedding.

I swear if there had been a shotgun at this wedding I would be unable to write this post right now as I would have turned it on at least half the groom's family. And then probably myself.

I guess it wasn't technically a shotgun wedding because they were engaged for over a year and the planning that went into it was at the level of something you might see on MTV or Bridezilla. I will say this...there's something to be said for saving the best for last.

I'm going to go into detail here of the WORST wedding I have ever been to. Actually, I'd say it was one of the saddest events I'd ever taken part in, and I literally had a bad taste in my mouth from the whole thing for the rest of the weekend and it's coming back as I write this post. Yeah...it's gonna take me a while to get over this one. And that's why, I guess, I got so darn drunk. But that's the end. We'll start at the beginning.

I was the Maid of Honor. I didn't want to be, but I agreed to it over a year ago before I really knew what I was going in to. The worst part is, I honestly felt deep in my heart that it would never actually happen. The guy is...well...not one for coming through with promises or actually accomplishing much of anything, really. So I thought, yeah she's got this big obnoxious ring but...

But I was wrong. A year later my bill comes to and I have to actually do this thing. So Saturday I show up at the groom's parent's house (which is actually the happy couples' house too. They have a room all to themselves upstairs. Ahh...the married bliss.) and shit is literally hitting the fan. Fat girls are running around, half naked and screaming upstairs where the bride herself is having damn near a nervous breakdown. The groom's mother thinks it's a good idea to have her start doing shots an hour before the wedding starts. (Enter a big sarcastic thumbs up from me here) Every five minutes this woman is saying "You're the maid of honor what are you doing." "You're the maid of honor you should be doing this" "You're the maid of honor, this is you're job." Whew. I deserve a big frigging reward for not hitting this woman. I think I said some things later to her whilst intoxicated. Nothing like she actually deserved. The bride...meh. Some best friend. I went out of the room where everyone was getting ready to fetch something for the little princess and when I get back in the groom's mother is putting earrings on the bride (something she can do herself when she hasn't been pounding shots) and her back is to the door and she's talking all kinds of crap about me. Candice is trying to tell her with her eyes that I'm standing right behind her, but the dumb @#$% that she is, she doesn't get the hint. So I'm standing there listening with my eyebrow raised until she says, "Where is the maid of honor anyway." And I just said "Right here." And she knew by my tone I'd been there long enough to hear my life story according to her. Blah. I loath people like that. I know she takes big dumps though, so it doesn't bother me. You can take the girl out of the trailer park but you can't...

Well, that's not very nice. :-]

Anyway the whole ceremony was 20 minutes long. The reception started immediately. The bride and groom were together for about another 20 minutes while they were eating, then they were off to the bar. They didn't see each other again until the bride puked on him at the end of the night. Aww...I went and spoiled the ending.

About half way through the stupid reception I realized that all our old girl friends heard that I hadn't made the bachlorette party because they were all huddling around Candice and giving me the eye. So I jumped in and started having some woo-hoo's with them because I just couldn't take anymore. Once we'd been drinking for a while, nobody even cared who had heard what about who. If you know me at all you know I'm not a drinker. I don't even have one once in a while for fun. Alcohol is yucky. But woo-hoo's taste like juice and I knew the man was in good hands with his daddy and I just went for it. Glamorous, I know. I've never had a grand finale like the bride. I suppose my Irish blood is good for something.

There were a whole lot of drunken "I love you's" coming from everyone (though ironically enough, none between the bride and groom) but Candice is turning into something that I can't even begin to understand. The words to describe it are on the tip of my tongue but I feel bad even thinking it. I mean...the bride doing shots before her perfectly planned, over stressed, wedding? How tacky can you be. Oh...well I guess you could get completely smashed on your wedding night and end up puking on your new husband and crashing on his parents floor, never making it to your honeymoon suite. Yeah. That's the cherry on top.

Oh...and it was caught on tape, too. As they were cutting the cake she said, in front of everyone (including her parents who up to this point thought she was an angel) "You know I'm drunk!" Hahaha. Geez. Well it's not like we're under age. It's not even like I'm totally against getting a good buzz on once in a while. Your wedding night is a different story though. Totally.

So there goes it. I went and broke my rule about people's personal lives. Damn. Not like anybody reads this anyway.

It's about Time.

Well here it is. Another random collection of the crap in my head. Sort of an update, if you will.

I got a hair cut. Friggin finally. It makes me happy. The best hair cuts cover up most of your face.

Sadie is (probably) going to have some puppies pretty soon. I can't say for sure that she hasn't just morphed into a fat, saggy dog suddenly. But she looks disgusting and that's usually a pretty good sign of pregnancy. If she does have puppies, I'm super excited because they are sooooo damn cute. That will also mean yet another full time job for me and that will make three but at least this one will produce some money. Hopefully.

I made a bad decision this weekend. It was not at all like me. It was mean and spiteful and I knew I shouldn't do it but I did it anyway. Candice was having a bachelorette party and I totally blew it off. ( I know what you're thinking, I'm an idiot because like her or not free booze and fun is always good!) But you are wrong. When you're with Candice, you are in the center of the universe, which is her home because the world revolves around her. Soooo...if you were even thinking about having fun you should probably just forget it. Besides, she only has like two friends and one of them is supposed to be me but she's treated me like shit so I'm done with that. The other one isn't even old enough to drink and I'm done getting minors in trouble. So basically I didn't go and I didn't call to tell her I wasn't going. Sound familiar? Yeah...that's what she did to me with my baby shower. Only the bachelorette thing is no big deal. I already threw her a fabulous bridal shower which only four people came to and it pretty much put me into the hole. And no "thank you's" of course. Now she's leaving me messages and emails in her "angry voice" saying things like "We need to talk." Which is what she was doing when she wanted to tell me why she didn't come to my baby shower. And her stupid frigging excuse....oh man every time I think about it I want to hurt her physically.

It's not that I'm such a princess that I think everybody who didn't come to my shower is an evil bitch. There were lots of people who didn't come (though most of them sent at least a card for the baby, or called and said they weren't coming) The point is she was supposed to be my BEST friend. But she ditched me at a very important time. See, going to someone's shower is like saying, "I support you in this. Congratulations!" and she never said either. She doesn't even pretend to like Riley. And basically I'm sick of the Bull. After the wedding I pretty much plan to cut her off completely. Blah.

What else...ugh I don't know. I guess I've been a little depressed. There's so much going on. Josh has been working on one kind of freelance or another for the past year and I'm a little tired of it. We both are. But we need to get out of debt. We need to not still have these same problems 5 years from now. This year has definitely been better than the last. I NEED to move out of this house soon. And by soon I mean someday. I'm not staying here forever. I can't.

Yesterday was a pretty tough day. The man is teething and he needs something he doesn't understand so he just cries. I'm already depressed and tired and stressed out so this is very hard on the both of us. Josh comes home for lunch and I go to take a shower and cool off for a minute as is my usual practice. Yes, my shower is still dark, scarey and the ugliest thing I've ever seen but we fixed the stream problem so it's been ok. I still wear flip flops. But yesterday I got in and it was like trying to shower in the rain. Worse, in the sink. In a dark, scary, UGLY sink. I flipped out. Josh had to come up stairs and check on me. I was literally screaming at the shower. "Why won't you just work you bastard!!!" And some other, even harsher words. And I was kind of crying. It's embarrassing to admit that but...I can live with a lot of things. I can even deal with the stress of our lives right now and take it all in stride. But if I can't even take a freaking shower!!! It's on. Unfortunately my screaming didn't fix it and I had to get out with all the soap in my hair and everything. It was just impossible to rinse. I was miserable.

Anyway I got over it, of course. I can't just be miserable when I have a child to take care of. Hopefully today will be better.

This is getting long I guess so I'll wrap it up. It sounds like I'm complaining but I truthfully don't do that much in real life. I actually do like our house, our dogs, our car, baby and even our friends (just not the one I mentioned above). My family even seems to be doing a little better. Baby steps. Speaking of, Riley is doing awesome too. He's got a lot of fuzzy hair and he's so cool. Sometimes he will just play with his own hands and they are so fascinating to him. Josh knows how to make him laugh really hard and he does so often. He's got a great laugh. He's almost six months old...I can't believe it.

So that's kind of an update. Of course there's tons more going on, but my wrists hurt and the man is tired of jumping.

Everybody Poops

Its true and also quite enlightening. If somebody doesn't poop, they are not special. They are constipated. And they are to be pitied.

I'd have to say one of the biggest compliments I've ever got (and I've gotten it a few times from a few different people) is when this one girl, who actually didn't like me much, came up to me and said. "You make being on the outside look cool. Like everyone else is on the outside of you." Meanwhile I'm feeling like a fungus the rest of the group didn't want to catch. But it was good to know I'm kind of an attractive fungus.

Josh and I had two other couples over for dinner Monday night. It was an absolute blast and they all got a little tipsy which was pretty cute. We're goody-goodies. (Atleast compared to the more regular party people that I know and who, I might add, I definitely do NOT envy.) Actually it all started at a party for an old friend that we went to on Sunday. I saw a bunch of people I hadn't talked to in forever. They were all doing really well and it made me feel sad for the old group. We all kind of went our own ways about two years ago. The last time I'd seen those guys was actually the day of our wedding. Just to give you an idea.

Anyway so having dinner at our house was awesome. They actually cooked for us, using our kitchen which was pretty cool. They brought wine, thus the tipsy-ness I mentioned earlier. The guys played guitar and we all shared about our dysfunctional families. It's good to be in familiar territory. Josh and I loved it so much we are officially calling our house "open". So anybody who wants to come cook us dinner, get drunk and bitch about their families is welcome here. Or, if you just want to come over that's cool too.

I guess I'm kind of circling around my point, which was weak to begin with. Basically I'm saying that most of the time I feel completely inferior to everyone, though I guess I don't really come off that way. So my most recent little invention to make myself feel better is to think well...they gotta poop sometime. Gross as that may be, there is nothing more embarrassing than being caught on the pot. So, when I feel like someone is being condescending, I picture myself walking in on them taking a big dump and I kinda chuckle and back out of the bathroom like..."Ha! Not so special now, are ya." And you might think, "Well yeah but isn't that embarrassing for you, too?" Why me? They're the ones with their pants down.

So if someone's being a jerk, just picture them doing something completely natural. And disgusting. And then if you're not feeling a little more on their level then at least you were distracted for a minute.

And if you think I'm stupid, remember that if you express those feelings in my comment box, I WILL be picturing you on the toilet.

Good day.

To Riley

I was going to write a post about some woman in Wal-mart who screamed at me and called me stupid. But then I picked up my sleeping son and he put his arm around my neck and hugged me for the first time. Thus reminding me that people like her don't matter.

Myspace Retards

Okay we all know that I'm not a big fan. But recently I've been using is as the communication tool it can (kind of) be and it's been fun. I guess. When you mess around on the net as much as I have in the past few months, you are bound to see all kinds of things. Well, I saw one today that truly offended the senses, so I decided to go completely overboard with it. As usual.

If you have a Myspace, chances are you have people on your friends list who you don't know and frankly, you aren't quite sure how they got there either. If your mystery friends are anything like mine, from time to time you will see surprising little idiocies. Like they may leave you a weird, sparkly comment saying "You're Hawt", or they may fight with your brother's girlfriend all over your comment box (true story). But I've got the topper.

I don't know who "MandyGirl" is, but she posted a bulletin sometime this weekend saying "Girls: If you live in the DC area and want to babysit this weekend, hit me up!" Or something equally stupid. Now I saw this and I said to myself, she can't possibly be searching Myspace for a babysitter. This is probably some trick chain letter retarded thing. But I had to know, so stupidly, I opened it.

Sure enough, this woman was looking for a babysitter. On Myspace. You know, strangers. In Josh's words "Where everybody could be somebody else." She wanted to go to some show so bad that she was polling Child Molester Central, other wise known as the internet, for a friggin babysitter. In case you haven't figured out my standing on this, it's basically WTF.

Why not just leave your kids home alone, chick. Better yet, as you're walking out the door just hang a big sign in the front yard saying, "Hello Strangers! My kids are home alone! Feel free to check in and do whatever you want with them!"

It's bad enough that people you know are likely to do something horrible to your kids. Professionals and relatives are routinely showing up on the news as rapists, kidnappers and murderers. Or, you know, all three. I can't believe this girl. What the hell is wrong with her. I think I might leave her my first (and likely last) comment as one of her mystery friends. It will read something like:

Dear Ms.Mandy,
I'm sure the state of Virginia would love to know that you are intending to hire a stranger from the internet to watch your children. I'll tell you what...I'll go ahead and call them and let them know that you are an IDIOT, undeserved of the capabilities to breed, and they will probably just come in and take the kids off your hands for you. That way, you can go to whatever show you want and not have to worry about it. Ever.

Have a nice day.





But that's just my rough draft.

Tough Love

Okay so here it is. If I offend you, it's because I love you. And this is probably what you need to hear, whether you like it or not.

You really think you're tough, but guess what. You're not. You hide behind prescriptions, cigarettes and alcohol but I know you. I know how you're feeling because if you remember, what happened to you, happened to me too. But I don't hide. What makes you a tough person, what makes you strong is getting up, every day and facing LIFE. If you can get up in the morning and feel the pain and resist the urge to drown it in one kind of oblivion or another and you can function in the real world day in and day out then...THEN you are tough. But if you tell yourself you can't do it and you numb your brain and fake your life then you are weak.

I know you're bigger than me and I know you're in pain. But turn on the news. The whole WORLD is in pain. These days, the people who actually face their lives with a clear mind are few and far between. Doing drugs or partying and getting so drunk you can't see straight doesn't make you special. It makes you a statistic. And it robs you of the proud moment, after the rain, when you can say "I made it through." You've heard the analogies. The moth needs to struggle through the cocoon, the chicken needs to break through the egg, newborns have to push through the birth canal and you need to GET OVER IT.

That's right I said it. Get over it. To use another cliche, shit happens. You're not the first or the last to ever have a hard time. Yes there is pain, but you must feel it. You must feel it, accept it, and then move on. What do we do to shit when it happens? That's right. Flush it. Forget it. Wash your hands.

Life is short! This is one lesson you absolutely can't miss. You only get ONE. Your life is yours to do what you wish. If you'd like to sit around and mope, then by all means. Just don't complain when it's all said and done and you haven't actually experienced anything. That was your choice, after all. Speaking from a strictly personal point of view, this fact keeps me in line daily. I say, feel absolutely everything that comes your way. The good and the bad. But don't let it own you. Consider, and I mean REALLY, the fact that you may not have five more minutes. That is reality. It's actually one of the only true things we know. Our time is limited, and unless you plan on suicide you have no idea when it will be through.

So take a deep breath and make a decision to live your life. I remember when you really were strong. Where do you think I learned it? Don't forget I'm not the only one who is counting on you to pull through this. Don't let the fact that even He denied any release from the pain, escape you.

There is a reason.

Deviant Reborn

I had this huge account on Deviantart but then I went and forgot my password and the email address I had under that name doesn't exist anymore soooo.... *deep breath*

I made a new account. And a very quickly done new vector piece to start out with WOOT!

My new account is: ashestome.deviantart.com Yesh.

They have this new "Pasties" thing I want to add here so you can see little thumbnails of my new stuff if I ever actually make anymore. Here's hoping. But anyways, I'll have to get to that later. I'm exhausted.

Check me out and make me your friend or I'll waste your wretched life! :-]

A good man is hard to find

I really hate to put two negative posts back to back like this, but I can guarantee I am in a far better mood this time than I was with the previous post. The reasons for this are two fold:

1. I have been abandoned yet again, but this time I can tell myself it's not really my problem. It IS problem, but at least it doesn't rub itself in my face daily by the presence of an empty seat at the dinner table.
2. I have just returned from leaving my paper route in the hands of some other poor sap. And he was afraid he wouldn't get the job. I would have given it to a monkey at this point.

So since I really hate my sad face, I've put on my "screw you" face and now I'm just angry. The fact that I have a child and he requires me to be somewhat of a normal person is the only thing that keeps me from basically just giving the world the finger right now. But my attitude has admittedly changed. So much so that I actually exacted a little revenge on one of my more annoying customers last night on my last run on the route. Hah, let me explain.

This one guy apparently has nothing better to do than wake up every morning and analyze the positioning of the news paper in his mail box. He made it very clear from the beginning that he wanted to have the paper IN his mail box everyday and NOT in his driveway. Upon receiving that message, I have always put the paper in the box, not like it's a huge deal or anything. At least, not to any normal human being. This guy also has a very charming way of tipping me the grand total of one dollar every month. While I think this is almost a waste of time, it never really bothered me.

Until this month when he only tipped .50 cents. He wrote this nasty little note on the bill saying one day I did not put the paper in the box when I know for a fact I did. It's not friggin rocket science. So he said he was taking half of my tip because of it. I found this extremely offensive. Why even bother?! I don't need your friggin fifty cents you decrepit old geezer! At that moment I devised a plan. Something small, perfectly legal and he probably wouldn't even get it but it would mean something to ME. So yesterday morning I dropped the paper in his DRIVEWAY with two shiny quarters on top of it. Sit on THAT and spin, Mr. Mason.

But on to my reason for this title. It's kind of my policy not to get into the details of anyone else's personal life in my blog, I just don't think I have a right to do that. You can probably figure out the gist of what has happened by my description of what is going on in my head right now, but I am admitting nothing about the actual events.

I am no fool. I know I have a good thing in Josh. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, he is the exception, not the rule. It has been my experience that when a man is presented by an opportunity that seems more intriguingly at the moment, and given the choice between me and that opportunity, he will always choose something else. No matter what it is. Even if it's a big, fat, over-tanned bleach blonde lolly-pop. Or in the other case, drugs and alcohol.

I don't know what I did to deserve all this, but it is only counter-balanced by the wonderful home life I have now. It's a shame I can't say the same for my first nineteen years. Yes, I'd love to leave all of it behind me but it seems to just keep piling up though I've been away from "home" for several years now. I'm not going to pretend that I'm the only one who has been hurt by all this either. I know my mother and Mike especially are hurt too. And hurt is pretty much the understatement of the century. There are plenty of people with "daddy issues" out there (which only further proves to me that they are all pretty much deserters in the end) but I don't know of anyone but us who has been burned TWICE. Doesn't that just seem like a little over-kill? I mean, wasn't there some other poor, unsuspecting family out there who could have taken the hit this time?

I won't ever trust this particular man with my heart again especially since he recently broke it about a month ago. I actually gave him a second chance, which I NEVER do. I'm sorry, but I'm not Jesus. Burn me once shame on you but burn me twice...well it aint gonna happen. Except in this case. It's just amazing the gaping hole that the absence of a father leaves on someone. I really wanted someone to call me "sweetheart" and love me like only a dad can. So much for that.

If I'm getting too personal, sue me.

At this point I'm wishing Riley hadn't been a C-section so that I could go on to have ten boys and raise them all up like decent men so the world would have somewhat of a fighting chance. Ten good daddies in the future is something to live for. The best I can hope for now are two more boys, since they only let you have three surgeries. The Sammons have a pretty good track record for producing males so...here's hoping.

Well, here's my little man now. I don't even have a good line to end this on.

My bad.

Drunken phone calls are only fun in theory

But gothic girls with beautifully trained voices as lead singers of grunge bands are good on paper too.

If you don't know, I'm talking about the new Evanesence album, The Open Door and their first single "Call me when you're sober". It's a good song. Kind of reminds me of my Daddy issues. Good times.

Anyways, I really do like the song and I'm looking forward to the release of the whole album sometime this fall. Josh will probably...find it for me. Heh.

For about five minutes today I felt good about my life. Then I remembered to breath. But actually, I'm being way over dramatic. I have a beautiful son who really is the only reason the sun comes up each day and that's all I really need to know. I love him. Sometimes the pressure is overwhelming, but it's NEVER because of him. He's perfect. I just had to clarify that.

So, to totally avoid the subject that is on my mind right now, I'll talk about Godless. Josh was able to download the whole thing for me and I listened to it on my route. I kept waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan but it just sounded like good old Ann to me. The chapter on abortion honestly made me cry, but when the subject is actually discussed, in light of all the known facts, you'd have to be near souless to not shed a tear or two. Then she went into the subject of teachers and the public school system. Apparently, 32,000 children are sexually abused by teachers every year. That's one out of every ten children. My aunt has eight kids she is sending to public school this year so statistically one of them is quite likely to be sexually abused. I have decided that's not a risk I'm willing to take. That fact, and the fact that the public school system is simply a TOOL has swayed me towards home schooling. I basically think private schools are a waste of money. That's a whole other story.

When Josh and I first talked about having kids, even before we were married, we said we wouldn't home school them because we didn't want them to be "weird". Now we realize that weird is actually a good thing. When you live in a society where more people can name two of the Seven Dwarves than two Supreme Court Justices, (and Sandra Day O'Connor doesn't count. She's retired.) weird is definitely a good thing.

Besides, stupidity is breeding like rabbits. I've got to do something to counter balance the universe.

Basically, I'm in a bad mood and my blog is now too public to say what's really on my mind. If we didn't have a baby, I'd be blaring some grunge as we speak.

I'd still rather have my baby. I'll save my grunge for the car.

Paneling is the Devil

I live in a faux wood jungle and I'm slowly losing my mind.

That's melodramatic, I know, but it's somewhat true. The play room and the living room are painted and it's nice but every other room here feels like the inside of a tree. I'm not a squirrel. I don't enjoy trees.

So I found myself in the paint isle in Wal-mart trying to pick out colors for our kitchen. The problem with the kitchen is it is inherently hideous. The linoleum floor was last replaced sometime in the '60s and its gold and orange and yuck all over. The counter is red...ish. There's this dark, faded like red trim that actually makes the dark paneling look even worse. It's like a cave in there. I really want to paint the place white with like an olive green trim, but I think that would really clash with all the gold and red. Heh.

But unfortunately for me, home improvement is not something I'm experienced in. And the help at Wal-mart are not hired because they take an over-whelming joy in life. I guess people skills aren't exactly required. So the old man working the paint counter doesn't tell me that the color I pick out for the walls is too peachy, and that the red is too bright even though I show him what I'm going for. The red trim is pretty, but the walls, yuck. And I guess you might be thinking that I should have asked Josh for help, him being an artist and all. But his art skills don't transfer to picking paint. I've seen the office, he's just a little shy. You can barely make out the colors of the walls. In the end though, it turned out I went a little too bold. I guess we should have let Riley pick out the paint.

In a way, he did have a lot to do with my ultimate decision because as I'm staring up at this big wall of paint swatches and he is whining because he wants to go home and take a nap and I have never picked out paint before I say to myself, "This moment is going to go down in history as the moment when I finally lost my mind." And then I decided what I had in my hand was fine. Blah.

I am now legally certified to serve alcohol in the state of Delaware. I had to sit through a three hour class and I guess it was pretty interesting. I was just distracted by the fact that Riley was probably at home screaming his head off for Josh. And that's when I decided that when I finally get off this route, I won't be getting another job for a while. My certification is good for four years, anyway.

I'm starting to think I will never get off this route. I quit Monday and I am waiting for a replacement to call me so I can train them. Until then, I have to wait but I've already quit and so now I'm anxious. Whatever, if I stay another month then I get another paycheck. It will only cost me a fraction of my sanity and probably my whole soul. Zombies don't really care that they're zombies, right? Here's hoping.

Fear and Loathing

Recently I've become obsessed with the Moth man. Seemingly out of the blue. After taking my route I was surprised to find that I am nearly 22 years old and still afraid of the dark. The moth man is merely that shape that I have given my fears, but that doesn't make it any less scary to me.

I did some research on the Moth man because I figured that since ignorance of an issue is usually the cause for fear, by finding out what the moth man prophesies were really all about I might be less afraid. The problem is, I kind of believe in these weird sightings and things. I mean, not like the alien freaks do. I still don't believe in aliens. My belief is that the creatures of the Bible, the angels and demons that people used to see, still exist. It's not that just because we made it to 2006 they stopped appearing to people, it's just that the minds of people have changed. Suddenly we're seeing "aliens" and "monsters" when really its the angels and demons that have been here since before man. So the fact that the moth man was sighted in Point Pleasant, West Virginia and some believed him to be a product of chemical waste or even an alien, doesn't really quells my fears.

What really gets me though is that when I get up to do my route, I have to turn on every light in the house in order to function. And I jump at every little noise. Sometimes, when I get really freaked out, I wake Josh up and make him watch me walk to the car. I know my fears are somewhat ridiculous, but that doesn't stop me one bit. I tell myself that there's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light, though I know that's not true. Yes, fear of the dark is no longer reasonable past the age of five, but having been a night person for the past three months, I will tell you that a lot of weird stuff does happen between the hours of three and five in the morning. Who knows if it's really anything to be afraid of, but I will say I have seen my share of ghosts on the road.

What is it about people that we have to know everything? I mean, it really is true that not understanding something is what creates our fear. People live in fear every day. Will I be able to pay the bills this month? Will the baby wake up? Will my husband make it home from work? What will happen at the party, next weekend, next month, tomorrow? We tend to think if we knew the future we'd be less afraid, but I think the future is pretty scary.

I guess the best solution is to live in the headlights. I told myself that since I'm so afraid of what's in the dark, I'll only worry about what my headlights can show me and anything beyond that, the stuff I can't see and I don't understand, I won't worry about.

When Riley is old enough to be afraid of things, I will probably tell him the same thing. Besides, as adults we know better. We know there are a lot scarier things than anything that could possibly fit under your bed. Life is scary enough with out monsters walking around. I'd hate to tell him that, though. I can just imagine the scenario. Riley is crying in his room because he's scared of the Boogey Man and I go in to comfort him and say, "Son, the Boogey Man is not real. But the IRS man is, and he's a lot scarier. And then of course you know they never did catch Leather Face."

I guess it's true that what exists in our own minds is scarier than anything that might actually exist. But maybe that brings me back to my angels and demons. Just think of Charlie Manson. When there are people with minds like that running around, I shouldn't be worried about any Moth man.

I'm a big Whiner. Whino. Whatever.

I have this crazy belief that if you are going to write music, even pop music (if there is such a thing) you ought to have a pretty good grasp of the English language. So much crap is being passed for music out there these days that it's absolutely disgusting. Wah. I hate it.

Take Mr. American Idol himself, Taylor Hicks. I don't know who wrote his first single, but let me just say. Oh. My. God. It makes me want to stick sharp things in my ears. It sounds like it was written by a five year old, or someone to whom English is a second language. Do you know what I'm saying?! It's terrible. Ahhh!!!!oneone!!!1111!!!!

Hah. I don't have anything to write about. Well, I do but I don't feel like it. My Gawd, do you know its been 115 degrees hot here for three days straight?! Ack. And I'm still not getting any sleep.

And with all that going on, I bet I can still write a better song than that.

Update

It's one a.m. and I'm taking a little vacation.

I've found that trying to sleep right before work is rather painful. I guess I just need a little more than two hours of sleep and my body doesn't appreciate being teased. But I am all alone (which is extremely rare these days) and I do have cookies and milk so to me, this is it. Bermuda.

So the route is not that bad. Now that I've got it memorized I get to listen to music and talk to myself all night. Who doesn't love that? I actually do enjoy the music part and now at least I've got some new material for Riley. He loves it when I sing. I think it's like when he laughs at my hair first thing in the morning. There's something funny about a tragic mess.

I finally captured some pictures of Riley smiling today. Remind me to ask Josh how to put them on the computer. I definitely want to post those. They're awesome.

There's a ton going on here. Most of it is kind of bad and pretty stressful and so for the good of my mental health I try not to think of them all at once. I think that's one problem most people have. We tend to group the bad things going on in life together and just the thought of them as one huge problem (otherwise known as life) makes it all the more stressful. I realized this when I first got married and I made a habit of complaining to Josh. I'd wake up in the morning and the puppies had made a mess, then the car wouldn't start, then I was late to work, my boss yelled and I had to stay late and clean the bathrooms...blah blah blah. Individually those problems are absolutely forgettable but lumped together they equal a bad day.

Like right now, the problems with my parents, a new born baby, Josh has moved into the new office and away from me, a new job and the subsequent lack of sleep, and of course the cherry on top is the law suit against me. All of this lumped together equals a near nervous breakdown but until now I hadn't put them all together in one sentence.

Still, at the moment they aren't bothering me. I have cookies.

Next week is Riley's two month appointment where he will be getting shots. I'm already nervous and thank God Bonny offered to go because I just know it's going to be awful. More so for me than for the baby, who forgets pain as soon as it's over (lucky guy). That's what's so cool about him, or I mean part of it. He gets to do everything for the first time, and he gets away with a lot of things. For instance he's extremely pudgy and Josh makes fun of him for it but one thing I find myself telling Josh a lot is "Hey, how often in your life do you get to do that again?" I mean, Josh and I have become a full-service machine. He gets breakfast in bed every day, a nice bubble bath, he puts on weight and everyone gets excited, and of course the automatic toilet. He's got it made. But I say let him have it, you never get it again. I think that will probably be my standard for his entire childhood. "Hey, he's a kid. Lucky him."

One thing I did for him though was start a bank account with USAA. They have awesome money tools for kids that I intend to take full advantage of and have done as much as I can so far. He has $50 in his account and they sent me a "financial package" which is basically just a binder that I have to put together for him. He also has a cash card and deposit slips for the exchange of money. It's so cute to see his name on a credit card, though it doesn't actually have a Visa, it's only good for withdraws from his own account. It's purely for learning purposes. Anyway, this binder teaches him about saving, spending, and even investing. When Josh and I reach a better place, we can get him his own Money Market account. I'm just desperate to make sure that Riley doesn't end up in the position I'm in. It's the least I can do. Later down the line he can get a Visa debit card which is pretty cool because USAA has it set up so that family members can access his account online to add money to it for him, which I thought was pretty cool. They said it's great for college kids.

It's Fourth of July weekend which in other words means Everybody Crowd Sussex County Until it Explodes. Or falls into the ocean. We've had so much rain recently that there actually was a lot of flooding and that old song came in to my head (for those of you that don't know, I'm talking about "California" by Rancid). I did hear somewhere along my public education that the states along the edges of the US were going to fall into the ocean. Supposedly due to global warming or whatever. But it's like they said on the Simpsons, our official position on global warming is that it does not exist. (That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.) Regardless, I think people will continue to pack into our little state every summer. There's probably two yards of sand left at Rehoboth and the same amount of people, if not more, still come down every summer to claim their two inches. And it is quite literally inches that you get to yourself. Better to just bring a raft and sit in the ocean. We've got plenty of that. Better yet, stay in your own state. Hah.

I know I'm just rambling now, but it's like I said I've got all this time to think now that I have this paper route. Just me and the road. And the papers. But the job isn't that bad, I get to be my own boss. I get to drive, which I love and of course there's the music. The problem is it is pretty inconvenient and I try not to think of the wear it's putting on my car. I get to bill the customers myself, which is cool because they mail me back the money and I love getting mail. Yeah, I'm pretty low maitnance. Just ask Josh about the dates we had in college. Haha.

I can't believe it only took me half an hour to write this. I'm sure there was more on my mind. I've written a ton of journal entries in my mind this week alone while I was working. Another night when I can't sleep I guess I'll get up and write them all down.

I'm off to download some music for Riley. I've learned all these new songs and he loves the one about the big black horse and the cherry tree. I just can't ever remember the words.

I still love Ann

Okay, the baby is asleep so maybe I can write about something intelligent for once.

Ann's in trouble. She recently came out with a new book, "Godless". I think it's appropriate and most of the country on some level or another would agree with that. I haven't had the privilege of reading this book, once I get an extra $20 I'll run out and buy it. Her books, by the way, are usually hidden deep in the back of the book store. I've never seen one on display in the front of the store, no matter how new and controversial it may be. I happen to believe in the case of this new book, she just may have bullied her way to the front of the store. Finally.

I love how she makes a career out of pissing people off. In a good way, of course. People are so pissed and it only came out the week of June 7th. Speaking of it's location in the book store, she writes this about how to find her book:

"The main problem with "Godless" is that I had to walk through the valley of darkness to find it. You will have to push past surly bookstore clerks, proceed past the weird people in the "self-help" section, and finally past the stacks and stacks of Hillary Clinton's memoirs. If all else fails, ask for the "hate speech" section of your local bookstore. Ironically, if you find "Godless" without asking for assistance, it's considered a minor miracle. "

Heh. Anyway, so I've heard through the grapevine that she says some bad things about the widows of some 911 victims. If that's the truth I've yet to read it, but as I said as soon as I free up some cash...

I love her. I will remain faithful unless by some tragic twist of nature she goes against her own beliefs and starts trying to actually please people. Something tells me she'd rather be set on fire.

So I just had to leave you with some quotes from the book that she posted in her column this week:

* No liberal cause is defended with more dishonesty than abortion. No matter what else they pretend to care about from time to time – undermining national security, aiding terrorists, oppressing the middle class, freeing violent criminals – the single most important item on the Democrats' agenda is abortion. Indeed, abortion is the one issue the Democratic Party is willing to go to war over – except in the Muslim world, which is jam-packed with prohibitions on abortion, but going to war against a Muslim nation might also serve America's national security objectives. Liberals don't care about women. They care about destroying human life. To them, 2,200 military deaths in the entire course of a war in Iraq is unconscionable, but 1.3 million aborted babies in America every year is something to celebrate.

And this one made me reconsider a public education for Riley:

* While gays were being decimated by the AIDS virus, U.S. Surgeon General C. Everett Koop was more interested in not "stigmatizing" them than in saving their lives. See, where I come from, being dead also carries a certain type of stigma. Instead of distributing condoms in gay bars and at productions of the play "Rent," where they might have done some good, Koop insisted on distributing condoms in kindergarten classes, to emphasize the point that AIDS does not discriminate, which it does.
In 1987, New York Times reporter Maureen Dowd – before she was elevated to the cartoon pages – wrote a heroic portrait of the man. Dr. Koop, she said "fiercely wants to strip AIDS of its stigma," and for that reason, he talks "about making an animated educational video that would feature two condoms 'with little eyes on them' chatting, and about the need for 'gentle, nonmystifying' sex education for students, starting in kindergarten." I would pay quite a bit of money to hear someone describe anal sex – oh hell, make it any kind of sodomy – to a 5-year-old in a gentle, nonmystifying way.

Ick.

Well, now the baby is up. The liberal agenda keeps him up at nights too. I'll leave you with this but it's really for me, because I have to leave in a rush but I found two new awesome blogs I want to keep up with:

* http://www.floppingaces.net/2006/06/07/the-coulter-attack/
* http://bamapachyderm.com/archives/2006/06/07/ann-coulter-slams-the-jersey-girlsbeth-yawns/

Unwritten

I'm definitely not a band-wagon kind of girl, but I've got to admit this Natasha Bedingfield song has got my attention. Musically, it's not anything spectacular or even slightly unique but at this time in my life, I find the words kind of meaningful. Once upon a time I was a bit of a spit-fire. If I had an opinion people heard it loud and clear and shy wasn't part of my vocabulary. Somewhere between the embarrassment, splits and broken hearts my spine has deteriorated somewhat through out the years. The only times I make my opinions heard now are through this blog and to my husband, who at this moment is the only person who hears me. Period.

In the business, they told us that as children we have such large dreams and that through the years our dreams get smaller because our world is limited by what money we make. That wasn't exactly true in my case. I've picked up and left off so many things. For instance, when Josh and I first married I knew I couldn't go back to school full time so I picked up dog grooming. I finished my classes and volunteered some time at the Humane Society to gain experience. I was pretty good, and I really liked it (though I will admit it was back-breaking and one half dead German Shepherd did bite me). Anyway, then I called every groomer I could find in the phone book to ask for an interview. Most of them were self-employed and didn't need any help so I went out to the streets to go shop to shop looking for a grooming job. The first shop I went into, the owner invited me to stay and work the day to try out for the job. I did and she gave me a 200 lb blue collie as one of my clients. I held my own and ruined my interview clothes and at the end of the day she gave me her number to call her after dinner because she said she would have to think about whether or not she would want me to come back tomorrow. Seven o'clock came and I called.

I am hoping for her sake that she was terribly drunk, because the woman who answered the phone was either that, or the biggest bitch to ever grace God's green earth. She told me she wouldn't be wanting me (in many more words, most of them expletives and all of them rude) and that I'd never amount to anything, that my education was worth nothing and that I was a loser. It took her about 45 minutes to say all this and all I did was sit next to Josh in the car, with my mouth wide open and I am ashamed to admit I even thanked her at the end of the call. That was the day I lost all of my self-respect.

Josh wanted to go vandalize her building, in the end I forgot her name and most of the awful words she said to me but I never groomed another dog.

And she is just one example out of many. I don't know if having Riley has something to do with it, but I have decided that I'm not going to be that girl anymore. I want to be the girl I used to be, only now with the tact that can only come with age and experience. I'm finally going to start healing that old spine of mine.

It's like India Arie said, "The only thing constant in the world is change. That's why each day I take life as it comes."

And this is Unwritten. My theme song for the moment.

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

I'm a Newsie

If you're not into musicals then you probably don't know what a Newsie is but as of last Thursday, I am one.

Riley and I were sleeping on the couch and were awakened suddenly by a knock at the front door. Immediately my heart sank into my stomach. I just had a feeling it was bad news. Josh was upstairs getting out of the shower but I called up to him to get the door anyway. He must have heard the panic in my voice because he stopped whatever he was doing to come down and answer the door.

I hear Josh thank the guy at the door and watch from the window as he pulls away in his truck. Josh walks into the room with a piece of paper. "What's this?" he asks. Just as I thought, bad news.

There's nothing like being sued first thing in the morning.

So here's' the background. I did go to college for two years, I was a pre-law student and I was damn good if I do say so myself. The problem was I was also sixteen and ridiculously naive. (I'm pretty naive now, so imagine my state of mind four years ago.) Anyway, I got a decent amount of scholarships but the school I was attending was about $25,000 a year plus the cost of living. I had to take out loans. I had absolutely no guidance in this area. It's a long story, but my parents didn't agree in my choice of schools so I was pretty much on my own. It's not that I needed them financially, but a little guidance in the matter of taking out a loan would have been of great help. But...all that is in the past. Anyway, I left school in 2004 to get married and never returned.

May of 2006 a court clerk is knocking on my door to tell me I'm being sued by the school I was attending for an unpaid balance of over $2,000. Blah. Well, Wesley College is crap in the matter of paper work. Anyone who has ever tried to do anything with them knows that fact very well. They did contact me over the years to say that I owed them money, but no one was ever clear on exactly how much (the figure always changed) or what for (they never did give me proof). So, I just ignored them. Maybe that was stupid, but I thought they'd just go away. I knew I didn't owe them anything, their policy was pretty strict that if you had an unpaid balance, you weren't allowed to begin classes or move into the dorms. Well, I had done both by the beginning of the last semester I attended and was told my balance was paid in full. No biggie, right? God...I hate over-complications. Wesley is such a drama queen.

So I called the school asking for an itemized list of what I supposedly owe. They sent me a three page history of anything having to do with finances that I ever had there. Still, their total only came up to $1,000. So where is this $2,000 coming from that they are suing me for? That's basically what I said in my answer. Actually, my answer kicks butt. I have quite a bit of proof against them, plus I didn't pay for all those law classes for nothing. (Well, yeah I did but at least they could help me a little in writing up an official legal answer).

I got a job as a newsie anyway, because I am just the little guy and the little guy always loses. No matter how great an answer they may be able to put together. Wesley has an actual lawyer, who made it all the way through law school. I can't touch any effort that he may put forth, but at least I'm pretty sure I won't have to pay everything they are asking, unless they gave their lawyer a different list of charges than they gave me.

So now I am getting up at 2 am every day to deliver papers. It was the only job I could get that wouldn't really take me away from Riley. I don't care if the court runs off with everything I own, I'm not putting my son on formula and sticking him in a daycare. Yuck. All he knows now is that daddy feeds him in the middle of the night. I'm home by 7am (it will be closer to 6 when I get quicker at it) and I don't think he misses me at all. If anything, it has been really good for his relationship with Josh. I still hate it. I bawled my eyes out the first night I had to leave them.

I hate all this crap. I never should have gone to college. I've done so many different things with my life, closed and opened so many doors but college is the one and only regret I have. It had a lot to do with pressure, mostly from my parents but also a strong need to please everyone else. My whole family always strongly pushed education, some of them are a little snotty about this. I guess it's good news that now my parents have let up a little in this area. Mike has chosen not to go to college, and they haven't kicked him out of the house or even charged him rent. As a matter of fact, they are actually respectful of his decision saying things like, "Well college just isn't for him." I'm so jealous. I won't even try to hide that fact. I wish they had been that supportive of me. But that's one line I've been singing for a long time. Yeah, things are different now and I am extremely grateful for the relationship I have with them, especially my mom. I just wish I didn't have to deal with all the student loans hanging over my head like a death cloud. I really hate the way I feel like whining and blaming everything on them right now. Nobody put an actual gun to my head and made me choose Wesley or take out student loans but I won't say there wasn't a proverbial gun in the mix.

Everyone wants the best for their kids, but there needs to be a line drawn between that and living vicariously through them. I don't care if Riley grows up to be a trash collector. If he's happy, I'm happy. And that's the honest truth. Maybe I can say that's why I went through all that hell, so that Riley wouldn't have to. Maybe then I'd hate that part of my past a little less. Only time can tell.

'Till then, I've got to get some sleep before work tonight.

Identity Crisis.

Yeah, and it's only been three weeks. Okay, to be fair to myself its been almost four. A whole month. Still, there is a lot of "me" missing. My priorities have definitely changed, and I knew that would happen. I even had a pretty good idea that I'd be kind of a different person after the baby was born but I didn't think that I'd cease to exist completely.

No, I haven't been blown into oblivion. It just feels that way sometimes. I'm not complaining, just stating how I feel. To get it down in words, this is what the past three weeks have been like.

First of all EVERYTHING is wet. I change my clothes as often as I change the baby. Why? Because what ever he does ends up on me too. I'd have never thought that. It's a minor crisis because I don't have a whole lot of clothes that fit again just yet. Riley has more clothes that fit than I do, so it's not that big of a deal for him though he does protest to being changed every once in a while. Also, he sleeps in bed with us. Don't wag a finger at me, I'm tired and this is how I'm choosing to raise my child. So anyway, I lay him down on one of those big spit cloth things but somehow he still soaks my entire side of the bed with one bodily fluid or another.

He doesn't cry a whole lot but sometimes he's just...awake. Very. Unless he's asleep which means he's plotting to ruin any chance for sleep I might have been hoping for.

Like Josh said in his post, he knows when we are eating and decides he would also like to eat. I guess that's okay, except at the moment that means that I don't eat, as feeding him takes up my whole lap and both hands. When he doesn't eat on time, that opens up a whole new mess of problems for me.

And so I guess everyone with kids laughed at me when I talked about going to the beach with my newborn. Looking back, I'd laugh at myself too. We can go to the store and yes, he did awesome at Six Flags, but he would never work out at the beach. Not at this point. He is either asleep (on me) or eating (on me) or awake (also, on me). So, either I sit and sweat in the sun and get a baby shaped tan (no fun) or I splurge a little and get a tanning package and a few minutes a day away from the baby to get my tan. I like option two.

Don't get me wrong. I've left him alone with Josh a couple times to go to the store and the whole time I'm gone I think about him and worry about him and feel guilty for leaving him. And yes, it's been six months since I've had a job and YES I am itching to go back to work (at least a little bit) but I love my son. It's just a big adjustment so far. I'm a little disappointed by not being able to go to the beach. Maybe when he's older and a little more independent we'll be able to go.

Until then, I'll buy my tan.

Wednesday's Child

So Tuesday, May 2nd Josh and I left the house early in the morning for what I thought was going to be just another pre-natal appointment. The house was a mess, laundry needed to be done and we were out of toilet paper. I still needed to go grocery shopping. Basically, we weren't ready for what they were going to tell us at this particular appointment.

In the office, Dr. Eshbach basically said either I needed to be induced that night, or have a C-section very early the following morning. Woah. Like I said, I thought I'd have at least until the end of the week. Anyway, I had a feeling that for the safety of the baby, I ought to have the C-section. So there it was, scheduled for 7:15 the next morning. I was terrified of the idea of having the surgery. I've never even broken a bone. Hospitals just freaked me out. I asked Josh to just drop me off at Mom's while he finished out the work day because I was just a little overwhelmed. I needed to be surrounded by people who loved me to keep my mind off the horrifying reality of the next morning. We took mom up on her offer to spend the night at their house.

Needless to say, I barely slept that night. We got up around 4:30 a.m. and headed for the hospital. At this point I am still trying not to think about what I had to do. As a matter of fact, I never faced it because I had planned on facing it at the moment I was lying on the operating table with Josh holding my hand; but that never happened. I'll get to that in a minute. Anyway, about five nurses attacked me when we got to the maternity ward. Put this on, take this off, this will only hurt for a second. Half an hour, an IV and a catheter later, I am ready for surgery. Josh is with me the entire time up to this point, unfortunately for him. They lay the mechanical bed back and wheel me down the hall to the operating room, completely dramatic and totally E.R.-like. At this point, they tell Josh he has to wait outside for them to give me the epidural. I don't know why they do it this way, it only makes it more scary. Anyway, I got to experience the epidural, though I don't remember too much about it. It kind of hurt, and it made me jump a little when he stuck the needle in my spine and it's a VERY weird experience, not being able to feel your legs. The weird part is, as much as I'm a light weight (and I seriously am, Tylenol PM knocks me out for two days) the epidural didn't take. At least, not completely. I couldn't move or feel anything below my waist, but when they poked my stomach before surgery to see if I could feel it, I did.

Next thing I know, they are putting what I thought was an oxygen mask over my face. The air stunk and pretty quickly after wards my lungs felt like lead. I remember saying to the anesthesiologist, "I can't breath, is this normal?" and then I was gone. Two hours later they woke me up saying I'd had a beautiful baby. I couldn't even remember my name but I said, "Where's Josh?" The nurse said he was in the other room being cleaned up. This sounded very strange at the moment, but I realized later that she must have thought the baby's name was Josh. I'd not even realized I'd had the baby. When I fell asleep, he was still inside me.

Two hours after he'd been delivered, they finally wheeled me down to my room to see my son for the first time. I'm pretty sure Josh was holding him, though truthfully, that entire day is kind of a big drug induced blur to me. There were a few minutes during which the maternity ward nurses were freaking out; apparently I was losing a lot of blood. I don't really know what happened, except that the next day I had to get two blood transfusions. They don't really explain too much when you're in the hospital. Finally though, I got to hold my son. He was perfect. I wasn't surprised at all by his face, it was like I knew what he would look like. Maybe it was just that I knew him. He was familiar, probably more emotionally than physically. Still, there was no question that this was my baby. (And he is quite good looking, if I do say so myself.)

The following week, my mom stayed with us. We were blessed so much by friends and family that I would probably do them quite an injustice trying to explain it all, but I will say that we couldn't have done it without them. We didn't have to worry about anything. The messy house I described was cleaned by The Moms while we were still in the hospital, and they had even found my grocery list and done the shopping for me. It really made bringing the baby home all the better, and was a major reason why I left the hospital a day early. I couldn't wait to be home with our new family.

It's hard to get down in words how much having Riley really did change me. The change was immediate. I had a little post-partum problem where I was incredibly concerned with his safety, to the point where I was just a tad paranoid, but that passed in a few days. Now we spend just about every minute together (thus why it has taken me so long to get this journal entry done) and I honestly LOVE it. At some point during the hospital stay I told Josh that I thought Riley had saved my life. He made kind of a weird face and asked, "From what?" I still don't know the answer to that question, except maybe that he saved me from a selfish existence. I don't know what I might have turned out to be without him, but I know that I like who I am now that he's here.

There are some details that I left out, and some that I will never remember because of the anesthesia, but this is the story of the day my baby was born.

Lucky.

I don't feel like talking about my actual life. Plus, maybe somebody will get something out of this little story. Either way, I think it needs to be told. It's the amazing life of one little hamster.

Lucky was born one of two runts in my sister's second batch of hamsters. See, originally there weren't supposed to be any hamster babies because the pet store told my parents that both hamsters were male. Well, sometime after Christmas, when there was a new litter of pink wiggly things in the cage, we figured out that atleast one had to be female. (Thus the entrance of Squeak and Master Chief). Anyway, the first batch was given away quite easily. My sister loved breeding them, and she did a really good job so my mom said she'd let the hamster have one more litter. We put mom and dad together again and in a few days...twelve new disgusting hamster babies.

Twelve is a lot for any mother to handle, this hamster mom was no exception. She ate a couple, bringing her total down to eight. Then there were two runts. We knew she was going to turn her focus on them soon, as she was still pretty frustrated with the work motherhood involved. Sam (my sister) wanted to wait a couple days to find out the sex of the little runts so that she could divide them properly. (There are now two hamster rooms to avoid anymore litters, boys and girls.) Anyway, the mom couldn't wait and ate one of the runts before we could save him. The other Sam was pretty sure was a boy so she snatched him up and put him in the cage with his dad and brothers.

He was the most adorable hamster ever. Out of all the babies, he was definitely my favorite. He remained about half the size of his brothers and sisters. He was light blonde with big black eyes. Actually, for the longest time one of his eyes wouldn't open, and we called him Squints. But now he has two big, beautiful eyes.

Anyway, because he was so cute and so tiny, I picked him up all the time. I would put him in my coat pocket and walk around my parents house with him because he would just fall asleep in there, and I thought that was pretty freaking adorable. So one day, I took him out to show my parents and for whatever reason, when I got to the kitchen, little Squints took a flying leap out of my hands straight down to the hard wood floor. He landed with a "Splat!" that will forever remain in my mind. I immediately screamed "Oh no!" and scooped him up. He wasn't moving. I burst into tears and held on to him. My sister, who had also just lost her bird, came in and asked what happened. "I'm so sorry!" I wailed. "He just jumped right out of my hands." She took him from me and I continued to cry (don't laugh, he was so tiny and plus I'm hormonal).

"He's moving!" Sam said.
"Don't lie!" I said, opening her hand. Sure enough though, he had begun to stand up. In a couple of minutes he was starting to walk around slowly and soon we saw that no damage had been done, except for a little loss of wind from the fall. Thank God.

From then on, his name was Lucky. He lived happily for a while in the house with his father and brother. He was kind of a loner, and for a few weeks whenever we passed by his cage we'd pick him up just to make sure he was alive. One day, on her way down the hall, my mom made one of those very stops at the boys cage. Lucky was on top of one of the toys, definitely alive and awake but strangely not moving. She reached in to pick him up, but when she pulled on him, he wouldn't budge and he began to bite her furiously. She realized that his foot was stuck somehow in the hamster toy.

She pulled both Lucky and the toy out of the cage and gently worked to get him free. Once free, it was obvious that his little leg had been broken. We were sure, after everything he'd been through, that this was finally the end of the road for poor Lucky. He walked around dragging his leg as if nothing were wrong with him, but we were sure that if he didn't die from the wound, then the other hamsters would surely kill him.

Days passed. Lucky's leg eventually fell off and he was left with a stub yet he hobbled around as quick as the rest of them. The other hamsters didn't even seem to notice he was handicapped. By this time, Lucky was just part of the family. There was no way we could give this little one away (not that anyone else wanted a handicapped runt). We had fallen in love.

Unfortunately, the hard times were not over for poor Lucky. He was now a mature age, though he still looked like a little baby. Sam started to notice that the father hamster now paid quite a bit of attention to Lucky, which was strange because he was a loner...and because he was supposed to be a male. Fearing that she'd made a mistake, Sam removed Lucky from the males cage and put "him" in with the females.

A couple days later, Lucky had babies of his/her own. Now she lives in her very own brand new cage with her babies. She seems to be doing very well, taking care of her in-bred bastard children, and of course we wish her the very best.

Poor Lucky. Born a runt, unwanted by her own mother. Nearly killed by a fatal fall in her childhood. Lost her leg as a teenager, mistaken for a male by her family and finally raped and impregnated by her father as a young...woman. This is tragic enough to be one of Oprah's books of the month.

I guess if Lucky can push on through every day life, the rest of us have no excuse. Of course, I'm not sure if I'm kidding or not when I say that. She is just a hamster, after all. I am a firm believer that God uses the little things in life, and Lucky is one of the smallest so maybe we should take a page from her book. Either way, that is the story of Lucky.

Take it as you will.

People Suck.

Okay, so I am aware that the title is both unimaginative and immature, but I don't care. It fits. And it's honestly the only way I can think to put how I'm feeling about the general human race at the moment.

Actually, this has been going on for years. And I don't think I mean all people. And I am slightly aware that, since the common denominator is me, maybe I am the one who sucks. For now, I'm just going to say that "People" suck, and I'll state my case and maybe you will agree and maybe you won't.

The first friend that I can really remember having is Candice. I met her in 4th grade, when my family moved down to the beach. I won't go into all the history that came before that, which had a great deal to do with who I am today, I will save that for another blog. I will say, that moving to a new school and making new friends was something that I was not a stranger to. For some reason, I picked Candice and that is how it has been ever since.

Our relationship is rocky at best, and has always been this way. She's had kind of a difficult life too, and I know that tends to make one a little flaky. I myself, am flaky, so I don't exactly hold that against her. I do hold the fact that she has blamed every bad thing that has ever happened to her on me against her. And the fact that every time she ever got into trouble, she must have told her family that it was my fault, because that is how they have always treated me. For some reason, I am a trouble making, slutty hoodlum in their eyes, though to my knowledge, I have never done anything to deserve that reputation. When they heard I was getting married, the first thing her mother said was "Oh, she must be pregnant." It's not because I'd been faithfully dating the love of my life for the past four years. Oh...and I wasn't anywhere near pregnant until a year and half AFTER the wedding. Go figure. So, I guess you can see I have some bitterness here.

Candice has never been one that I could share my secrets with. She always shared them with her mother, her boyfriends, or whoever else she felt needed to know. I had to find this out the hard way, many times. I can't explain how many times I've felt stabbed in the back and basically abandoned by this person who calls herself my "best friend". Anytime she's ever had a boyfriend, I've been pushed to the back burner until they'd broken up. I know this happens to everybody, but after ten years of friendship, you start to expect a little more. Plus, I'd never done that to her.

I don't know if it has to do with being pregnant, or the fact that a lot has changed in our lives in the past few months ( a job change, a big move) but I've been feeling especially vulnerable. Therefore, I pretty much decided to just stay within my inner circle which basically only consists of Josh and our immediate family. Branching out right now, for me just seems too painful. And Candice never has anything nice to say. She's very critical...of everything. She turns her nose up at the fact that we're having a baby every chance she can get. To say that hurts me is putting it very mildly. Despite the fact that I know deep down that she is not now, nor ever has been my best friend, parts of me hold on to the fact that she could have been and though she doesn't deserve the title, she claims it every time it is convenient.

This is the girl who didn't come to my baby shower because she was mad at me.

Unfortunately, I don't have to make this stuff up. She called me on Monday, sounding peeved, and wanted to meet me at Starbucks. Fine. So I go, and after about three hours of talking she says, "So, I have to get this off my chest." Being the gracious friend that I am, and knowing she'd been through a tough personal problem a few weeks ago, I hadn't yet mentioned the shower, and the fact that she neither called nor showed up. "Okay." I said, and waited for the ball to drop.
"Well I didn't come to your shower because I was mad at you. You never returned my call."
I just blinked. Thousands of hateful thoughts started to flood my brain, but mostly I was just shocked, yet again, at her selfishness. I pretty much explained in the paragraph above why I didn't call. She hurts my feelings for sport, and I'm pregnant and damn it, I don't feel like dealing with her right now.
Yet, I said nothing. She went on,
"Plus, I didn't get you a present."

I wished so badly Josh was with me. He would have given her an ear full. Why is it that when it comes to her, I can't defend myself?

Then of course, there was Mark and Karen. That was just one huge "Ouch." We thought they were friends of ours. We introduced them to our friends and family, they even stayed a night at Josh's mom's! We trusted them with our time, emotions and even our money but when it came down to it, they were only interested in the latter. It's not even like we had a lot of it, but they had big plans. None of which involved us, it turns out. My heart couldn't have been more broken and I can honestly say I haven't yet forgiven them. They called once, last month. Said something to Josh about how they have a team down here now and that we should come out to the meeting. No thanks. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, I'm pulling the freaking trigger, you dig?!

Those were the two major influences that I can remember right now. There were tons of other people, and thus tons of other reasons, why I should never attempt to make another friend as long as I live. Like that time when I was the new girl at church, and I was standing in the group with the rest of the girls, making plans for the weekend and one of them says to me, in front of everyone, "No, not YOU." Yeah. How do you recover from that? I'll tell you how, you start hanging out with the guys. There's something so primitive and easy about men that I find irresistible in the friend department. They're honest, and they hardly ever work to deceive you. They just don't see the game in it. Of course, being the girl that only hung out with the boys at church helped label me in a new way. By then, though, I had already given up.

So Candice's friends and family told her that because I hadn't returned her call in a few days, she should replace me as her maid of honor. (Long story, but she's supposed to be getting married in October. Too bad she doesn't have a date, place or even colors picked yet. And of course, somehow, this is all my fault.) After my talk with my mom and my husband (who both believe that her reasons for not coming to my shower and for being the way she is are basically bullshit) I am starting to feel the same way. Maybe she SHOULD replace me. Maybe I've lost interest. Maybe, just this once, I have my OWN life and crap to deal with and MAYBE I'm about to have a child and that is a BIG DEAL. Maybe, this one time, I'm not going to feel bad for something I haven't even done and I'll focus my time and energy where it belongs, on my family and even myself. I'm tired of feeling guilty and taking responsibility for her stupid mistakes, and I'm REALLY tired of being the topic of conversation in a house I haven't stepped foot in for three years. They know exactly shit about my life, and what I've been through, and what's going on now. All she cared about at Starbucks was getting out her feelings, and exactly why they were my fault. And all I did was, in Josh's words, "take it up the butt". I QUIT THIS JOB.

God, if I had the actual gumption to call her up and say that. I wish more than anything that I did. I could just get it over with, and that painful part of my life could finally end. I guess that is why I suck.

And I'm not in the market for any more heart break. I'm quite satisfied with the people I know now. I don't have the time, energy or room in my life for a person who may or may not shatter me yet again. It's one gamble I am NOT willing to take at this time. I've come to the conclusion that people are not deserving of my friendship and I am not deserving of the pain they will inevitably put me through. I know I sound dangerously near becoming a hermit, or one of those freaky "Cat ladys" all the children in the neighborhood are afraid of, but I do have some friends. And I do have my family and believe it or not, I love a good "surface friendship" every once in a while. I really enjoy meeting and talking to new people, but I won't go any deeper than that anymore. The honest truth is I'm scared to death, and I don't have an evidence as to why I shouldn't be.

People suck.