Another too too short of a weekend. I'm exhausted from it.
I am taking this weekend off. I can't babysit. I love it, I love those 2 kids, but I feel like I never have a day off.
I cleaned, shopped, cooked, did laundry all day Saturday and you'd never even know it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. (multiple uses of the F bomb). I am going to get a housekeeper. That's all there is to it.
I watched Sis #1's kids from 8:30am - 5:00pm, Sunday. They are so adorable. I have baby fever, but am so glad that my sister's keep having kids because I don't want another one full time. It's nice to be able to give them back.
I did make $100. That makes for an extra $600 this month. I still am broke. Why, because I've been buying... sheesh, I don't know what. I think I'm going to go back to my old ways of taking my babysitting money and depositing it into my savings accoung AND NOT TOUCHING IT.
I would be so excited to have that extra $600 right now. Oh wait, I did pay over $100 in bills, bought Zoe a few summer shirts, and bought groceries, so I don't feel so bad.
Well maybe I will babysit just a little bit. I do have the 4th off, so that's an extra day. I'm not going to skip church again though. That's been making me feel really bad. I was starting to enjoy going again, and there are so many cool people.
Last week I went on a reunion of my church retreat. It was a potluck dinner. I brought pizza. Everyone had home cooked stuff. I'm like, "Welcome to my world."
---------------------
Zoe's behavior has improved a bit. She's not saying such mean things to me and hasn't really had any bad tantrums this past week. I'm sure it has to do with the school.
She actually remembers what they did in school that day and talks about their field trips. It's cute. I'm excited.
And she's sleeping more. She's not as grouchy/starved when I pick her up. She's tired, but still pretty sweet.
Pray, y'all, for me. I'm hoping it stays this way. I do not need any added stress.
---------------------
I suck and I'm still sick. I have the worst headache right now. This totally bites.
Um, my blood sugar levels are not going down. I've cut out all of the crap in my diet for four days now and my fasting sugar level was 269. Shit! I don't want to have to get an insulin pump. The goal is to get off insulin all together and lose some weight.
I
Must
Work
Out!!
this is key!
Maybe I can sneak going to the gym in tonight. My Sis #2 is picking up Zoe, and her hubs is grilling some chicken I brought over.
I want to get these levels under control. I have to go back to that asshole doctor on the 2nd and don't want to hear another ration of shit.
----------------------
Dr. Egypt called Saturday. Damn, he is missing me. I am sooooo missing him. He sounded really sad. He said he was going to check hotwire and get me a ticket. I said book it. I'd find a way to make it work out. Whatever. I need to see him. I feel so tense since he left.
I think that's what happens to you when you never have any fun.
I KNOW for a fact that stress makes your blood sugar go up.
I really want to go see him. I need something to look forward to.
-----------------------
Burns. Minou. Stay out of the woods. Protect your buttholes.
that is too too damn funny.
Y'all all please write. Update those journals please. I have 4 hours to kill and I need some distracting.
Congrats No_Key!! Baby Baby Baby... Your life will definitely never be the same. Hope it will be filled with joy and happiness and as much magic as mine has been. Since you asked where I came up with the name....
---------------------------
Zoë
Greek - means life or full of life - pronounced like Joey not Joe. I named my daughter for the song Flowers for Zoë by Lenny Kravitz. I heard the song (find it if you can...it's totally sweet) and thought how cool it would be to have Lenny Kravitz as your dad, and how cool it would be to have your dad actually write/record a song for you. In honor of No_Key's wonderful impending news, here is my special Zoë's song...
---------------
Flowers for Zoë
Love for Zoë
Angels and rainbows
All kinds of things you can call your own
Gardens for Zoë
And oceans for Zoë
Jungle gym playgrounds
All kinds of things for you to explore
Flowers for Zoë
Love for Zoë
Angels and rainbows
All kinds of things you can call your own
God is for Zoë
And heaven's for Zoë
Oh can you believe
That everything is waiting to unfold?
You can call your own
You can call your own
You can call your own
You know when you have a nearly THREE hour doctors appointment, the news ain't gonna be good.
I just now got to work (fuck) at 1pm. My appointment was at 9am. I did some shopping in between to make myself not cry more.
It's not cancer or anything that serious, but my diabetes is all out of wack. I'm not dying (yet), but I just need to pay more attention to what I'm doing.
---------------
Bad signs at your fucking doctors office.... turn around. do not pass go.
1. All of my personal information (name, address, etc) was all fucked up. I have a hyphenated last name and they had both names a) misspelled and b) switched. My address was really wrong and they were missing numbers. They were all rude when I had to correct them.
2. You have to go in fasting for your bloodwork. For a diabetic used to eating at regular intervals, this sucks hard. Not to mention that you wait 2 hours after your appt to get your labs done. Fuck you.
3. You get lectured by a stranger on how to be a more efficient super mom (get more money from ex - impossible; cook on sundays - when, before church/shopping/cleaning/laundry/playing with my kid??; bring your lunch to work - duh, already do; blah blah blah)
4. I'm a new patient to this guy. But his process was fucking long as hell.
Forms. Wait. Meet nurse. Weight. Height. Vitals. Sit in docs office. Wait. Play games on cell phone for 30 min. Talk to doc for 1/2 hour. Pee in cup. Strip to waist. Chest x-ray. Bloodwork. Meet other nurse. Strip to panties (great, I had to wear the sexy red ones - dumbass, I didn't think he'd be seeing them ) EKG.
Damn, first a chest x-ray then an EKG. All I could think was that my EKG would be bad and they'd wheel me into open heart surgery and Dr. E wouldn't be around to make sure I was ok. *waaaah, fucking waaaah*
Hot fucking room. Talk to doc. Bad labs. Very bad.
Get lectured big time by doc.
this is critical:
*hangs head in shame* breaks down crying in front of nurse and doctor, AND completely bitches him out for lecturing me and making me feel bad and sit there half naked. I think I stunned him.
Then I finally fucking eat. By this time it's 11:25. I'm used to eating breakfast at 5am. Fuck me.
Meet 3rd nurse. Finally a nice one. She showed me how to mix my new dosage of my new insulin (one shot a day vs. 2; new types).
30 minutes later pay and leave.
Fuck - great. Cried. I'm sure it was part insecurity of meeting a new doctor who I knew would be bitching me the fuck out (after having a superb doctor for 7 years - I loved that guy, but he went back to school), and partly because I was hungry as hell. Ate dinner at 8:30 last night, so nearly 15 hours later some PB crackers.
Basically my fasting blood sugar was really bad. tada - 260 after 12 hours of fasting. That fucking sucks. It's supposed to be between 70 - 120.
On top of that my average blood sugar levels for 3 months were really bad too.
Now I know this guy doesn't know me, but I have been a diabetic for over 8 years. I've seen 4 nutritionists, countless specialists, and have been doing my bloodwork every 6 weeks for 8 years (except for these last 6 months).
But fuck, I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO HEAR IT. I JUST NEED TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME GO HOME.
The best prescription I could use would be a month long paid vacation. Couldn't we all!
someone cheer me up. The shopping wasn't enough, and my sweetie probably won't call until next week.
I still suck, but now I'm sickly and sucky.
I don't know why I don't find wasabi_geisha's journal offensive. I should. But I don’t.
I think it is because I'm not against anyone making a buck. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm all for anyone getting their own.
I came from an old money family. I was a trust fund baby who had the majority of her college (private) paid for.
My paternal grandfather was a songwriter. He wrote songs back in the 30's and 40's, and some were pretty famous. Elvis sang some of them, Judy Garland, Doris Day, Nat King Cole, Miles Davis and a bunch of others. They were used in Warner Brothers cartoons and a few Broadway shows. In recent years Woody Allen used one of his songs in several of his movies.
He and my grandmother divorced, and he remarried an heiress. Their estate was split between my father and his sister. My aunt (Aunt Loopy - another story altogether) only has one child. My dad has seven. She is basically disabled (bad back), and lives off her share of the trust. Lives very well mind you.
My father has put seven kids though college with his share, one in law school as well. There is still quite a bit left. I’ll get some of it when he dies, but I don’t want to think about that… ever! My dad is now retired and has several pensions, social security and the interest from the trust. They are comfortable, but not rich by any means.
We grew up with the basics. Not overly flashy, but we never needed really for anything. He worked, paid the bills, and we always had a really nice house. My mom stayed home and we had a very sweet life.
I think my brain is wired strangely. I make a fairly good living, not as well as I used to, but for some reason, I always feel like I'm poor. Perhaps it is because the majority of my friends are very wealthy. They have nice homes, they travel, and they buy whatever they want. Their children go to private schools or mother’s day out. Almost all of them are stay at home mothers. Some hate it, but it would be something I’d love.
I guess I’m tired of working. I worked in college, and have been in one lame job after another since 1991. When I was married I used to make three times as much as my ex. I feel for the working stiffs of the world. I’m tired of feeling the pressure to keep my household going. Now that I’m single, that pressure is even greater.
I have always spent pretty much whatever I make. I've had my utilities shut off, I don't have much extra, and for the first time in 8 years I've been bouncing checks. I'm irresponsible, but I'm not impoverished by any means.
I don't know if wasabi_geisha is a real person or just someone who is creating nice "stories" for a journal. Her stories sound a bit too contrived to be true. Who am I to say? I have no justification for this, but I can't picture some model Switzerland-traveling type sitting around typing up a journal here. All I can think of is some writer-script wannabe guy making up some dream woman to write about. I’ll never know, but it’s something I’ve thought about. I’m sure in a way I’m jealous. If I could make money that way I would. If I didn’t find the man repulsive, I’d sell myself. I like sex, and I don’t have a problem making up a few “stories” of my own.
But it's something I don't find offensive. It sounds rather empowering to be able to pick and choose. And the money would be great. I know that when I had money I looked better. I was more carefree and fun. I took better care of myself. I was more leisurely. Not always on the go, and had more time and money to spend on myself. I never balanced my checkbook, but I never came close to bouncing checks. There was always enough.
Ah, the good old days.
to be continued... too freaking long... heh
------------------------
entry continued... too much to freaking say
Look up ... this is continued from the prior entry
[aside]
I truly feel that a stay home mom who has a little extra money should always look great. I have a gym membership that I don’t use as often as I should. But if I weren’t forced to work, I’d spend a few hours a day there. I love it. My truly rich stay at home mom friends have memberships to the best clubs in town. Great daycare. Restaurant with healthy delicious food. Spa with manicure/pedicure and massages. And classes, equipment. The women are toned and taunt and aerobicized. They are gorgeous.
It’s a great life. I’m completely jealous and will freely admit to it.
[aside over]
I feel like I prostitute myself at work anyway. It's a horrible job reading about toxic waste all day. Not at all creative. Not fun. It's just a paycheck to me. Better than a lot of jobs that I have held, but if I could figure out a way to work less hours for more money, I'd be all over it.
Then nearly every weekend I do the same thing for my sister. Babysitting. I hate giving up my weekends, but the extra money is too good to pass up. Prostituting myself for the Pamper's crowd.
I don’t know why I’m writing about all of this. I guess I’m sick of working and wish that I could stay home for a few years. I miss my child every hour of the day. I am sad that we can't go on playdates and can't go on excursions. I miss looking and feeling good. I miss the not rushing to school to work to clean to church to babysitting to... oh fuck, we rush everywhere. It’s exhausting.
I’m sure it’s a feeling that has come to a head because I dread my doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I dread having some jackass doctor tell me to reduce my stress. To take better care of myself. It is something I know, but can’t seem to make happen. Where? How? There aren’t enough hours in my day to do everything. I know other people can do it, but I can't seem to get my shit together. I was a good employee. A good stay home mom (when I did for a while), but as a working (now single) mom, I am so fucking unqualified it's unbelievable.
I’m only one person.
Maybe one day I can convince myself that that is ok. I can’t do it all.
Maybe one day I can give myself a break.
Until then, I still suck. Too bad it can’t be for a wee bit of cash. (hahaha)
Red apples are good. I'm off to eat one and sulk.
More power to you wasabi!
Fuck....Retraction
Quote:
To any others I missed, I'm sorry for not mentioning you, but understand you were no less important to my development as a writer. Yes, that even includes Deb_U_Taunt and Lori "Ray O'" Sunshine, and the people who wrote me telling me I'm going to burn in Hell.
Ok, so I missed the conjunction "and." So I retract the "I never told Chastain he was going to hell. (or did I? I'm sure he'll prove it somehow... whatever)"
Nonetheless, I still think he's a pompous poser. Smarmy.
[edited, because I'm being a jackass]
*where is that ignore button?*
ok, that was just rude as hell. (I'm still feeling very ill and now I'm ill and mad to be at work when I feel ill).
I only take back the "fuck you" part. As I have said before, I'm not into swinging. Y'all are welcome to it, but it's not for me. It ranks right up there with anal sex, beastiality and bad porn.
And no, sorry, I'm not sharing details of my ill will, but I still love y'all
Fast fast fast....
I feel so out of it.
1. I haven't written since last week. Babysat all weekend (made $300 bucks wahoo).
2. Got completely sick on Sunday night. Woke up at 1am and puked until 2:15am. I didn't know that was possible. Other things were going on at the same time, but it's too gruesome to detail.
(it was a pukefest. thank God Zoe slept through it.)
3. Missed work Monday and Tuesday. They weren't thrilled and acted like I was faking. If they only knew, they would feel really bad. (especially, duh, I'm a diabetic. It's very dangerous to be that sick, buttholes!!!)
4. Zoe started her new school. So far so good. She seems very excited.
5. I never told Chastain he was going to hell. (or did I? I'm sure he'll prove it somehow... whatever) I just thought his lifestyle is disgusting. So, fuck you. I'm not sorry you are stopping your journal, because you were an asshole to me. I'm sure others are sad, but maybe you weren't such a gross pervert to them in your PMs. And no, I'm not going to share about this, but trust me. He's a pompous asshole who is a complete poser. Don't let the door hit you, dude!
6. I'm going to be fucking way way too busy at work to finish writing anything fun or to even read my favorite journals. Blah!
Fire drill today. They better not make me go down the stairs. (I'm on the 16th floor)
Pukefest 2003!!
SUBMIT TO THE HEAD!
shhhhh...
hypothetically I plugged my tv into my home DSL line and now I hypothetically have all the basic cable channels and then some.
I don't know if this hypothetically would be illegal (as I pay for the DSL), but I'm not about to hypothetically ask.
Although I'd never do this because my coolest brother works for Time Warner. By the way, he got employee of the year and won a trip to Puerto Rico for him and his wife.
And, we hypothetically would get Disney and Cartoon Network, so I'd never do this anyway as Zoe would never get up from the television. I don't want her sitting on her ass. Big bad habit!
I care about this because:
1. 16 million people in the US have diabetes and don't know it.
2. 1 in 3 children born in the year 2,000 will become a diabetic.
Trust me, I don't want to ever have a diabetic child. My diabetes is more of a pain in the neck than anything. Insulin shots, meal planning, always thinking about what I'm eating is doing to my blood sugar, etc.
But at least I don't have AIDS, SARS, or cancer. I mean, the type of diabetes I have can be controlled (Type 2), so if I don't evolve into a complete sloth/lazy ass about what I eat and how much I work out, I'm pretty much ok.
We'll have to see next Friday. Doomsday. New doctor visit. And, yea! I get to have ANOTHER pelvic. That's just kind of creepy. My old doc used to leave all that up to my OBGyn.
-------------------
I'm listening to the Buena Vista Social Club. One of my favorites. Just thought I'd share. I really want to get the soundtrack to Freida, but I don't want to fork out the $$ for it. I'm clueless on downloading music and stuff too... doh!
-------------------
I noticed I don't write much about my brothers. I have 3. I guess it's because I'm the 2nd of 7 kids and I'm closer to my sisters. (My parents had 3 girls, then 3 boys, then 1 more girl).
My brothers are hilarious. I mean truly truly funny. They used to make home movies. My favorites were "Black Glove" and "Mr. Beethoven, You Have Syphilis."
My house is the most fun when we are all together. My daughter loves her "Uncas." I'll have to think about some fun stories about my brothers.
I wish I could see them more.
-----------------------
[aside]
ug, yahoo. I'm getting hit on by an engineer with an "open marriage." It can't help that my profile says I'm a porn editor (that's an inside joke by the way.)
I keep it on there because I get lots of people sending me IMs about it. It's funny, it gives me something to write about, and once in a great while I've met some really fun people.
Although this guy is kind of cool. He's not really hitting on me. He said he'd give me kind of an inside look on what it's all about.
[aside over]
I really wish my parents would chill on my marriage. My mom is the keeper of all the family phone number, addresses, birthdays, etc. for our extended family (Aunts, uncles too).
She won't remove my ex's name or his 3 kids (she tactfully leaves off his illigitimate child though I noticed).
She lists him with me and also lists our anniversary. It really bothers me.
When will they understand that:
1. there is no none nada hope of us getting back together. If you have read much of this journal, you'd know what a fucktard he is.
2. I'm only still married to keep my medical insurance. He pays for Zoe already, and adding me on doesn't cost extra. My insurance at work is super sucky and it saves me $200 a month.
3. With my diabetes I need a good preventative plan. His plan is awesome. Mine wouldn't even cover the maintenance blood work (every 6 weeks). I can't afford to be jacking with some shitty insurance.
We both are cool with this. It's a way for him to give me a little extra, without having to give me cash.
If we ever wanted to remarry someone else, then we will split, but until then, we stay married solely for the insurance.
I don't know what they are thinking. Everyone she sends the list to knows the story, so why are they pretending we are still together. It really upsets me.
--------------------------
Ok, that's enough for today. I have to catch up on my reading.
Babysitting the Under 3 crowd all weekend. I'm staying at Sis #1's house. Her hubby is the organizer of his 20th class reunion, and they have lots of stuff to do.
I hope I make some good cashamatoma, and I'm sure I'm going to be exhausted from 3 kids nearly 24/7, but I know we'll have fun. And her 8 month old is soooo adorable. She really is the sweetest baby. She really does balance out Zoe and her crazy 3 year old cousin's antics.
*yipee*
Zoe is here, yet again, redecorating my office. I want to stay and write a bit, but I think she's going to tear it up big time. She's already ruined her new shoes with a black permenant marker.
--------------------
Dr. Egypt called yesterday. Totally freaked me out. I was feeling sorry for myself yet again (yeah, I suck...but you already know that), so his timing couldn't be more perfect. I felt like such a dork I was so happy. It's agonizing not knowing when we will be able to see each other again, especially since we are both drawn to each other so strongly.
I was telling him about Zoe's new school. I signed her up yesterday. She was a bit shy at first, but then was excited about the toys and the computer (there are 2 brand new ones in her classroom).
He said that he thought I was doing the right thing. She is at the age where she needs more discipline and structure, or she is going to run me over.
[aside]
ok, mullaney, I just noticed the "similar threads" list. My journal is similar to:
1. SUBMIT TO THE HEAD ... yes, you all must submit to me. As you are hostages here, you must give in and do my evil bidding.
2. MAN ARRESTED WITH SEVERED HEAD SAYS HE WAS PROVOKED... see this is what will happen if you all don't submit to me!!! Single mother arrested with multiple severed heads... says she was driven to it by sleep deprevation.
[aside over]
So I was talking about this and that with him and mentioned that I saw this cute little house next door to Zoe's best friend. I was trying to figure out how to buy it (not in this lifetime), and he said that he would look into buying it, and leasing it to me.
Um, not just yeah, but HELL YEAH.
I'm sure this won't happen, but wow... that would be cool. It's twice as big as my apartment and it has huge bedrooms. *yippee* Zoe would get her own room, and he would have a place to stay when he came to town . He's got some extra money to invest, but I'm not holding my breath (but wow, that would be hella cool!)
I told him I'd also give him some special perks as my landlord.
He said he started work and it is looking grim. He says he has no idea what his schedule would be, but he doesn't think he'll get any days off. He said I'd have to come up there. Considering I'm -17 on my vacation time, it may be a while. I'm trying not to think about it. I totally love that dude. I'm trying not to, but dammit, I do. It really sucks.
Well, it's almost 6:45pm. I'm starved, Zoe has torn the hell out of my office. All the caps are off my pens. She pulled out nearly half of my tape, and she is terrorizing the guy that works next to me (he thinks it's pretty fun though), and there are paper and engineering figures all over the place.
Also, we have to go home and dry sheets. Zoe slept more last night than she has her entire life. I'm sure she is bordering getting sick right now because she slept 14 hours.
I took her to her new school at 5:30 and she fell asleep in the car on the way home. I plunked her down on her sleeping bag in the living room, sure that she'd wake up in 30 minutes or so. Two hours later, she cried out for me, and I changed her into a pull-up and put her into bed. She barely even moved. At 4:30 I woke up thinking something was wrong. My pajamas were soaked as were the sheets ... nice... the pull-up failed us.
I changed us both and she slept until nearly 8am. It was kind of creepy. The most she's ever slept before was like 10 hours.
ok, my friends (and hostages ) night for now!
I'm now being terrorized! Attack of the three year old!!
Some of us should surely not be allowed to write shitty poetry at 1:24 am.
Yes, sadly, I should have gone to bed instead!
You don't want to know.
Two and a half hours. It's a new record. It took me two and a half fucking hours to get home from work tonight. I fucking HATE Houston.
No traffic, it's a 20 minute drive.
I never figured out what the fucking problem was either. Someone probably had a flat tire or some bu-shit. It took me over an hour to go less than two miles on Richmond.
At first I was a bit amused. I was going slower than slow. I filled out some paperwork in the car. Talked to a few people on the phone. Then I realized that it was already 5:45 and I was still over an hour away from Zoe's daycare. They close at 6:30.
Panick sets in. Call Dickford, no answer. Call Sis #2, no answer. Call Zoe's favorite teacher, family friends, neighbor... none of them answer. I'm totally fucked.
Finally I get a hold of one of the other school moms. She's not on the authorized list to pick up my daughter, but at this point I don't care. $1 a minute when they go past 6:30... not enforced, but if I was going to be really late, I know they'd charge me something.
She was really cool to pick Zoe up for me. I finally show up at her house at 7:45. The kids were having a blast. It made me sad because they were having so much fun and we had to get going. All the stay home moms have these scheduled play dates. We never have time for any ... sniff...sniff.
The kids start eating spaghetti-os, but get caught up in playing with baby dolls. On the way home, Zoe insists that we go buy spaghetti-os. Fuck and other multiple curse words. Just what I want to do. Another stop. I just want to be home. It's 1am and I'm just now winding down a bit.
It's days like these that make me want to collect unemployment and work off the table.
It's days like these that make being a single, working mom suck more than anything.
There should be laws against traffic like that.
Don't move here unless you will work 10 minutes or less from your house. Houston just fucking sucks.
---------------------
That other mother and I decided that we will be pulling our kids from the daycare they are in. They will be starting on Monday and will have their first field trip... the Rainforest Cafe. Hell, I've never even been to the Rainforest Cafe.
The only thing that makes me nervous is all the trips in the van. We've had many cases of daycares accidently leaving kids in cars. It gets insanely hot.
They told me that the ratio of three year olds to teacher will only be 10 to 1. Sounds like horrible odds, but the state allows something like 15 or 17. It's insane. So 10 sounds good. Right now there will only be like 6 in her class. At least her best friend will be transferring also.
Say prayers for Zoe that she transitions well into school. I'm so worried about it.
Can you tell that is always my biggest worry? That somehow I will have fucked up my child's life (like writing about her every move in an online journal... yeah right, she'll be stable)
----------------------
ok, some horrible, unsolicited poetry
----------------------
don't flirt with me
kiss and touch and feel and lick
it's cheating and you know it
my body betrays me
I want to fuck but I don't want to fuck you
don't touch my parts
I want to feel him
my body remembers him remembers this
I can't fake it anymore
I long for his hands
his gaze, his smile
to feel his body
his taste his breath his lips
to steal the hours with him
my memory serves me well
but is now doing me a disservice
I want to forget
This betrayal too too ripe
He is here but not here
no words but words
this ache too fresh
this ache too much mine
---------------------------
Stop
thinking
and
get
your
ass
to
sleep
can't we just start over? It's nearly time for oatmeal.
Choo Choo slays me. That guy is fucking hilarious.
--------------------
I'm awake and I so should be asleep.
Too many stories in my head and I don't know what to tell. It's come up a few times, so I might just tell my boring Dallas Cowboys story. I have a few, but I'll summarize a bit.
I won't name names but let's just call him Big Fucker.
I graduated from Saint Edward's University in Austin, Texas. This was the Texas home of spring training for the Cowboys when they moved back to Texas. It's a beautiful school, by the way, so if you are ever in Austin, it's worth the trip. The view of the city from the hilltop is very pretty, especially at night.
The school built a special field for the team. In the off season, it was home to our great soccer team. (we were too small to have a football team). I thought it was a very challenging place to have training as it ranged in the high 90's by 11am.
I attended summer school during the first 3 years of training. I ended up working for them as the field was right across the street from my apartment. It was an easy job to go easily with my senior thesis course.
The first year I started off as a maid. We trained for a few days and that was longer than I lasted as a maid. When we had to literally hose out the showers and toilets, I was like, oh HELL no. The guys were slobs and the smell... don't ask. After my one day maid stint, I then asked to switch to working security. Directing traffic, telling the kids to keep of the fence, holding helmets while they sign autographs and the like.
I was dating my college boyfriend, Good Mike, at the time. The stereotypes of most of the players are completely true though when it comes to women. Meat. You are meat to them.
But I can totally understand why. The women come out in droves. High heels, huge uplifted boobs, big hair, full makeup. The would come out to practices dressed like hookers. Brings out the carnivore in any red blooded man.
[aside]
the real "working girls" were run off each year in a very well publicized "vice" sting. They would bust all the Johns in a very public manner on the local news stations. This would drive away the HO traffic during spring training. And clean up the area for the fans.
[aside over]
Anyway, these chicks would come out with all but "come fuck me" written on their foreheads. Literally 98 degrees and they were everywhere. They snuck into the dorms, performed blow jobs in cars, and generally served as some local ass to these guys. It was rather disgusting. Gives a new meaning to pussy galore.
Needless to say, I understood why these guys were so full of themselves. Women were to be had. Easy pickins.
The first week I was on security duty, I got four private (dorm) phone numbers. "Call me baby. I want to show you a good time." "Hey sexy, how bout us hookin' up?" "Don'tcha wanna be with me, baby."
"My name is Debby, not Baby." I actually said this to Michael Irvin (sp?)
I think I attracted them solely because I would always reply, "Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend." I wondered if they actually had some kind of bet to see who could fuck me. I couldn't imagine it being anything else as I was out there in a hideous hot pink t-shirt, bright ass baseball cap, and slathered in sunscreen while smelling a bit gamey because I was sweating to death. I was looking anything but sexy.
The third year I worked there, my boyfriend and I had broken up. I mean just just broken up. I knew a few of the players by this season, so they would kid around with me.
[aside]
I do still think Troy Aikeman is not gay. I caught him sneaking a few looks at my older sister. She's a hottie. Although he could have been looking at her shoes.
He's horribly shy, and very polite. I got to hold his helmet a few times and he was very nice.
I think I was his age at the time. Some kids had snuck down by the locker room and were waiting by the fence. It was beyond hot. Over 100 degrees. This was after the 2nd practice that day... the hottest. The poor guy was tired. He walks down there, tired as all hell, to go sign these kid's autographs. I was holding his helmet and shoulder pads. I didn't talk to him. I was really tired and hot too.
He went to sign the autographs, but then the hundreds of press vultured in on him. He was doing a good deed, and they wanted it on camera. I told him, "Mr. Aikeman, I think we should go now."
He said, "thanks. really." and went into the locker room.
my lame brush with fame.
[aside over]
That year, Big Fucker asked me to show him around town. He was huge as were most of the players. But this guy was the hugest of huge. Not great looking, but funny. I mostly went out with him because he had a good sense of humor.
I took him to eat fajitas and have a few margaritas. We were bombarded with autograph seekers, but I was glad there weren't any photographs. It was the most digusting display of eating I've ever seen. I literally lost 10 pounds after that date because it was so gross.
Dinner:
3 big baskets of chips
Too many margaritas to count
A pound (nearly two) of fajitas and 12 tortillas
Rice/beans/fajita sides with extra guacamole and sour cream
Me, well I had 3 margaritas and a few chips. He ate all of it himself. It was like he was eating without breathing. I was afraid I'd lose a hand. He was possessed.
I can understand because I heard they could burn up to 10,000 calories a day during training, but this was so beyond horrid to watch. A human inhaler.
We went to a few clubs, but since he was a pretty popular player, we skipped out. Too much attention. I later found out he was married or had a girlfriend. Either way, I didn't want him.
He then tried to feel me up in his truck. I wasn't havin it. Maybe if he hadn't put on such an eating frenzy I might have, but I couldn't get over the mound of guacamole.
After rebuffing him more than enough times, I asked to be driven home. He actually was cool about it. He had to make a stop.
Subway
Three Foot Longs
He said it was a midnight snack. I was glad I wasn't going to be the midnight snack. I don't think I could have wrapped my legs around that big ass.
Big Fucking ass.
They hit on me even more after that. See girls, The Rules do work.
If you want to get a bunch of over-pumped muscle heads.
Big Fucking fajita eating ass.
oh, fuck.... we are having a major thunderstorm and I didn't even notice it. That's what being a slave is all about. Inner offices. No windows.
My weekend... uh, sucked.
The too too short weekend. Had Friday off. Looked at new daycares and new apartments. Saw Hollywood Homicide. Good, but lame chase scene. Babysat marathon style all day until 11pm on Saturday. Made big money, but spent it on catch up stuff Sunday. Sunday, cleaned, washed, played, errands. Goodbye weekend.
I'm feeling very unsettled with my life. Can you tell?
Zoe's school is starting to bug me. I've listed pros and cons and still can't decide if I want to pull her. I don't think they are doing anything except playing even though they are supposed to have a "curriculum." All her teachers are leaving. It's a daycare, they don't pay shit. But the turnover lately has been unacceptable. Something is going on.
I went in on Friday and read to the class (15 three year olds) two stories using all the voices and such. They were quiet for the most part and really had fun. Then we sang a few songs. It wasn't that hard. But her current teacher is preggo and she just doesn't seem to want to try. Not to mention that she said she'd quit if she could, but wants to stay long enough to get the disability through her maternity leave. Yeah, this is the person that I want teaching my child. Fuck!
I mean, hell, these people seriously are raising my child for me. She's a great kid, but she is starting to sound like a teenager. "You're not my best friend. I hate my dad. He's ugly. Go away from me, leave me alone, etc., etc., etc."
I talked with Zoe's best friends mother and she said the same thing about her daughter. We are noticing that they yell. Alot. So we both decided to look at other daycares. That way if we change schools, we change together, so they will know someone else.
We'll see how it goes.
Zoe is my heart, and right now it's breaking. I don't know what the right thing to do is.
To be continued...
---------------------
Yeah, Happy Father's Day. TO MEEEEEEE!
Zoe and I treated ourselves to a very expensive Father's Day brunch. It was $25, which in Houston is pricey for some eggs. I didn't care. We didn't do anything for Dickford, and I was feeling very self important, so we went for it. Zoe was perfect. It was a nice meal.
Dickford stood me up for some mom time on Friday night. No call. I didn't hear anything from him all weekend. He's done this to me every weekend now for a month and a half. I'm tired of his excuses. "I lost my phone. I fell asleep. I had something come up." He gets his free time. I'd like mine once in a while. Fucktard. I get in this morning and see this email message:
Quote:
sorry about this weekend had some personal issue that i can not share
ok, I'm wondering if he got thrown in jail. I don't care. I'm in deb-bitch mode, so here was my fucked up reply:
Quote:
Whatever. We treated ourselves to a nice father's day breakfast since I am Zoe's Mother AND Father.
You fucking suck.
I couldn't help myself. I'm such a bitch, and he just brings it right out.
---------------------
I
miss
Dr.
Egypt
mopemopemopemopemopemope
mope on a rope
mope a dope
mope, I can't cope
---------------------
But, shhhhhh, I'll jinx it because it's too surreal.
I got PM'd by this gorgeous Italian dude from Sicily. We've talked for a few weeks now. I've been completely coy. No true true flirting. (that, he couldn't handle ) But I'm lonely and tired and sad and bored and missing my E. This is intriguing. So I'm having a wee bit of fun.
My heart is in there with Dr. E. But wow! Italian dude really is beautiful. 32. Sells wine. Will be in the US in August for vaca. Wants me to meet him in Cali. He actually phoned me this morning. From Sicily. Is in love with my "curves...." Says I have a sexy voice. You fucking foreign dudes make me weak. Hmmmmm....
As it stands, if he's for real, I would totally do him.
But I can't fathom that he would be for real.
Freakier things have happened.
But not to me.
Trix are for kids
ahhhh.... finally.... all jammied up, laptop, reading, relaxing....
for the first fucking time all day. hahahaha
I actually had a nice day. I worked my butt off at work, accomplishing every thing I set out for today. I'm a studette when I want to be. And SHUT UP. Stop laughing already.
Although it was major stress. One of the most stress causing elements in my life is when I really really need to work late and I have no one to pick up Zoe.
I've spoken of my commute before. It's dreadful. Usually it's about an hour each way. Rain or wrecks, it has lasted up to two hours just to get home.
But on a normal day, I have to leave by exactly 5:15pm in order to reach Zoe's daycare by 6:30. I usually only leave about 5 minutes to spare.
So if I can't leave by 5:15, I have to figure out some way to have my child picked up by the time her school closes. Most often I get her dad to do it (and yes, he's a major asshole about it... what did you expect?) Other times Sis #2 does it for me. Zoe loves this because she gets to see her two cousins and she loves my sister big time. But Sis #2 is pregnant, so this is a last resort.
Today I was stressing about it. Her dad, dickford, said he would get her today. He said he'd call to confirm. Noon goes by, one, then two o'clock. I'm up to my ears in work so much that some of my project managers jump in and actually help. Finally at three, Dickford calls me and says he can't leave work because he is tied up.
Well, stressed out as I was, I deb bitched him out. I couldn't help it. I sacrifice my job so much for our daughter, that I'm sick of him not doing some of the same. I mean, I make way more money than he does, and could make more if I could get in extra hours. (get paid hourly). I'm always babysitting on the weekend for grocery money though. I like it, but it is hard to work 6 days a week.
I'm also the one who takes her to the doctor, takes off work if she's sick, and takes and picks her up 99 % of the time.
I didn't make this kid by myself, why do I have to raise her by myself? Especially since he only pays for 1/2 of her daycare and nothing else.
God bless Sis #2. Bless that poor pregnant girl. She picked Zoe up for me twice this week. Tonight her kids were out of town with their father. He took them on vacation during one of his business trips. Sis #2 said that Zoe was upset that her cousins weren't there. She also got really mad when she found out her dad was going to pick her up from Sis #2's house. She cried and said she wanted me to do it.
[aside]
I totally must ensure that my anger towards Zoe's dad isn't ever in front of her. I am so careful, that I'm sure that she picked this up from school or something, but she said at dinner "I hate my daddy."
Now I'm sure you all think that she got that from me, but I actually never say the word hate. I'm pretty sure that she picked it up from school. Same as she did when she said one of her schoolmates was ugly. That's just not how I talk in front of her.
Anyway, I told her that I don't hate daddy, and she doesn't either. That he was her special daddy, and that he loves her, and would be sad if she talked bad about him. She said she was sorry, but that daddy's hair was still ugly. (he shaved his head and looks like a vato)
[aside over]
So Dickford brought Zoe to my office. I was finishing up a few things, delivered a bunch of documents around and took her "zooming" in the cart up and down the halls. (no one was there... this was like at 8pm).
We left and Zoe said she wanted to go to the Pancake Store, aka International House of Pancakes (IHOP y'all). I figured she was hungry so we went.
Summary of visit:
Seated
crayons
color color color
break orange crayon
peel paper off purple crayon
drink chocolate milk
nice waitress gets "talked to" by asshole manager, (in front of customers, oh, that's great management style)
go to potty
announce in potty that it stinks
asks why the woman in the next stall has such loud poo poo
wipes butt having fit because she wants to do it alone
washes hands and says that it is stinky poo poo in there
return to booth
sit stand sit drop crayon sit stand hands on glass
food is delivered
tips over chocolate milk; thank God for lids
doesn't eat any of smiley face pancake
color color drop crayon and crawl under table
announces very loudly that she has to pee again
back to bathroom
no pee; fake out
washes hands
gets upset that shirt is wet
back to booth
waitress thought we skipped out
stand sit stand sit stand sit
kiss mommy's face while mommy is trying to eat salad (first food since 11am)
kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss
kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss
kissing monster
sit stand sit stand sit
grabs bill and dips it into water
mommy packs up uneaten pancake
zoe brings bill to counter
asshole manager tries to be nice to mommy
mommy ignores his fake charm
zoe stands on waiting benches
jumps up down up down up down
mommy adds on $5 tip to $14 bill because she felt sorry for nice waitress
manager makes fun of my long long crazy signature (I'll scan it someday, you'll make fun too)
zoe nearly topples hostess stand
CELL PHONE RINGS
Dr
Egypt
calling
out the door
into car
he's not coming, but I'm not really upset
I had to babysit that weekend anyway
still miss him, but I didn't think he'd come
He tells me to call him when I get home and get Zoe to sleep. I understand. You should understand, that it's next to impossible to hold a coherent conversation when a three year old is awake.
Zoe passes out in the car in two minutes. It's now after 10pm. We get home, I change her and clean her up a bit (in her half asleep state).
I actually shower. It feels like the nicest shower I've ever had. What a long fucking day it has been.
I call him back. He says that he really misses me. The hospital is so greedy to have his experience that they want him to start a few weeks early. (He has 15 years experience as a heart surgeon, but because of out of country licensing, he has to start over with general surgery as a resident; therefore, they are anxious to have his skills put to use as their newest SLAVEBOY)
I tell him I have tomorrow off and he is sad. He tells me to hop on a plane and come see him. That he'd buy the ticket tonight. I can't. I've committed to babysitting marathon on Saturday for Sis #1 for their anniversary. They are golfing and going out at night, so I'm going to be there all day.
I tell him I miss him and miss laughing with him. I used to laugh much more when he was here. His leaving was also bad timing because at work they moved the other editor, Lara, down the hall around the time he left for Egypt. Double whammy. That girl cracks me up, and it is so boring in my office now. So less laughing during the day, and no laughing at night (except for reading all the bits and journals on here)
Anyway, I start giving him shit. Not too much. About 1/18th of a deb bitch. I tell him I was about to give up on him, since he never calls or emails.
He gasps. "Oh, no honey! Don't do that! I miss you more than you could know."
Now why he doesn't show me in other ways, I have no idea.
He starts reminiscing on our days together. They really were so lovely. He says that this is the nicest affair he's ever had. Weird way of putting it, but I know what he means. It's the same for me.
I tell him, "Well it doesn't have to be over. You sound like it's over."
"Nooooo. No, I don't want it to be over. I just know that it's going to be difficult for us to get together. I'm going to be so busy, that I don't know when I'll ever get to have time to see you."
He talks about Christmas as being the first time off he may have. He says that he will send me plane tickets to visit him.
I told him about my journal and how I have a little following, so he needs to give me something to write about. To write in my little soap opera. He thinks this is cute. He laughed when I told him that he was "Dr. Egypt." He said he wants to see me so I'll have something x-rated to write about. *yikes*
We talk for a long time, but it is really late there. It was a nice conversation, but it makes me miss him more. I tell him to make a point of trying to call me at least once a week. He says he will. I know he won't. He might. I'll try to not give up on him yet.
I miss him. He really misses me.
Either way, nothing has changed. I'm still determined that I'm going to keep on going on with my life.
It's hard. I've met some other guys (online only folks), but Dr. E is always there. My heart's not into meeting anyone else. I love this guy, but am trying to convince myself otherwise.
It's not working.
------------------------
Funny Zoe story... skip it if toddler stories make you barf.
After work, it was dark. We had the cop walk us to our car. We are crossing the street. It's kind of busy and dark. There is a grass median in the middle. We cross the first three lanes. Pause on the grass median and go across the other three lanes.
When we get over to the sidewalk Zoe says, "There's no poop in this grass."
hahahaha... guess you had to be there
[aside]
you see one of my neighbors is too fucking gross. they haven't been cleaning up after their dog. I don't know who it is.
1. It's Texas folks. When it gets over 90 degrees, dog shit in the grass stinks to high hell.
2. I wouldn't throw one of Zoe's shitty diapers in your front yard, why do you let your dog shit where my kid plays. This is why Zoe has no concept of what it is like to run around without shoes. Fuckers!
3. If I catch the person who did it, I swear to God I'm going to bag it up, open it onto their front stoop and smear it all over their door.
OMG, I'm turning into IBIS!
ciao
I'm finishing up some blasted work so I can take the day off tomorrow. I've been here since 9:15am (it's nearly 8:45pm now).
It's almost not worth it to try to take a day off.
On top of that, Zoe is in here and she's redecorating my office. I think she ruined one of her shirts with the ink from my draft stamp.
Too much work, no time to play, makes Deb a fucking bitch.
chips ahoy!
Just to clear up the animal hatred theme:
I hate all pets in my house. I don't hate other peoples pets. Unless it's Sis #2's dog, Latka. No matter where I am, he comes up and sits his ass right on me. On my foot. Rubs it on my leg. He doesn't do this to anyone else. And ever since they had kids, he stinks. Like all the time. He needs a bath, but the kids are lucky to get a bath, much less a big lug like Latka.
He's big. German Shepherd / Rottweiler mix. Scary looking, but gentle. Gentle and sweet, but God Bless him; he is stinky. Ok, I don't hate him, but I don't want to snuggle with his stinky ass.
I don't even want to snuggle with Zoe when she's stinky. We have a bathe every night rule. No stink in my bed.
Maybe it's not a pet thing, just a smell thing.
I don't hate all pets or animals in general. It's just that they are not for me. They are cool... for other people.
I don't really mind Baby Jack the hamster that much. He's cute, but the little butthole still bites. I need to buy some gloves so I can pick him up. I'm sure that is why he runs all all the time on his wheel. No affection. Poor dear. Just like me. I feel your pain, Baby Jack. Welcome to my world. Two year lifespan counting down...
I do dislike outdoor cats in general. They are funky, and bring you half dead rats and birds. But I like indoor cats because they are soft and don't stink. They are just snobby.
About the only cat I think is awesome without reservation is Minou
Hope I cleared it all up for y'all. I didn't want to be know as a mega animal hater.
And don't forget. If you have cats, flush your used condoms.
I forgot about this whole thing until the Sucking Cats thread
Fucking cats
I had two cats when I was in college. Micky and Willie (Mantle and Mays... UG!). I picked Micky up from the pound. I should have known he was a little bastard because the other kitten in Micky's cage had his tail chewed all up. But Micky was tiny and cute. I never had a pet before.
They were my boyfriend's cats. He talked me into getting them... Psycho Mike (discussed a bit in the entry "Just like Clinton... or so I've heard") We lived together.
*say it all together, just another in a big long line of mistakes.... yes, I sucked, even back then.*
The cats were horrible. Willie was little and sweet, but Micky made him a bastard junior. They looked related but weren't. It's like with kids. The jail theory: the baddest one teaches all the others how to be bastards.
They would attack your feet. Socks, shoes, barefoot, no matter. I had scratches all over me. These guys were traumatized somehow and were taking over, and taking it out on us.
They used to tear up the house. Constantly getting cat litter all over the apartment. (Gross, going barefoot to the fridge for breakfast and crunchy litter all over the floor.) Poked holes in Mike's waterbed (I hated that fucking bed!). They knocked over a bunch of my ceramic art projects and broke them.
[aside]
A semester's worth of work. And yes, ceramics is actually pretty hard. Plus if one of your classmate's pieces of shit exploded in the kiln and killed of one of your works of art, you failed. BIG F. A F in art.
When Psycho Mike and I split, he didn't have a place to put the cats (he moved into the dorms). I had to take those assholes with me. They got all neurotic without him. Micky started shitting right in front of the door. I did everything the vet said to do, but every day, big pile of crap in front of my door. Nothing worked. I hated him. I hated Psycho Mike for sticking me with these beasts.
A few months later Good Mike moved in. He was a good dude, but I saw him kick Micky once. At the time I was really pissed off, but now, post cat, I understand why.
They were indoor cats. Guess it was the season, but Willie stood at the door on his hind legs and cried to be let out all night long. This went on for days. Right during finals week. I was tempted to let him go, but it's Texas. All of the outdoors is nasty.
Then the grossest of them all. One day Micky was barfing up a hairball. He was a little shit. I hated that fucking cat. I can't say that enough. I hated that fucking cat.
Cough, cough, cough. I thought I'd have to give him the heimlich.
Out
pukes
a
big,
used
juicy
condom.
Nice.
Final straw.
Good Mike gave me an altimatum. Me or the cats. I chose him.
The lady I gave them to tried to give them back. I said no. I feel bad, but I was enjoying life without crunchy floors. Whining. Vet visits.
Puking up rubbers.
Now I just deal with diaper changes, potty training, eye goo, and the new one "Ewwww mommy, look at this big, gigantic booger. Hold it for me."
Nice.
I thought they'd never print it.
I was re-ordering checks and there was an extra line.
So now my checks say
Deb [lastname]
QUEEN OF THE UNIVERSE
I'm having a better day today. My asshat boss is gone for the next two weeks. Sometimes he is very cool. I like it that he leaves me alone.
But, sheesh, he can be such a butt sometimes.
I don't care anymore...
I'M THE QUEEN OF THE UNIVERSE
Funny sight at the Taco Cabana... 9:00am Saturday.
Someone is picking out her own clothes. Not worth fighting over when it's not a school day. So I let Zoe be Zoe.
Zoe... hula, aqua, one-piece bathing suit. Tropical. Palm trees, beach umbrellas, pineapples.
She's wearing multi-colored pipe cleaner bracelets and anklets. Brown baby birckenstocks (sp?). Pink cat-eye Barbie sunglasses with silver glitter. Two little ponytails bobbing up and down.
And her green plastic grass skirt.
Munchin' on a potato, egg and cheese breakfast taco. Standing up shaking her hips. Drinking her strawberry soda.
"I a hula girl. I a hula girl." Except that with her little Texas Twang, girl has like 3 syllables in Zoe talk. Gerr - errrl. I a hula gerr - errrl.
Shakin what God gave her.
--------------------------
I got an email Friday from Hanna. Apparently I witnessed Lissa signing her will.
I don't remember doing so, but I'm sure I did.
I've put off doing my will. There is no excuse. My sis is an attorney. There's no reason not to.
I haven't the nerve to ask my older sister and brother in law if they would raise Zoe if something were to happen to me. I don't think Dickford could raise her by herself. I don't think he'd want to. And I don't really think his family is suitable. His parents are old. His mother is legally blind and his father has a drinking problem. His sisters were bitchy to me.
I'm sure they'd all fight tooth and nail. The drama. The drama. They'd boo hoo at my funeral (although they might not show up. who knows with that family) When Dickford's sister died, none of them had seen her in years and they hadn't talked to her in a long time. I see both my sisters weekly and talk to at least one of them every day.
But they are loud Italians from New York. They'd boo hoo for a few, but then later they'd backstab and say what a brat Zoe is.
They all yell all the time. Zoe doesn't even know any of them. They obviously don't think enough of us to come see her or to send us a ticket to come see them. I don't want them to have her. I don't want them to change who she is and take her lovely, creative and loving spirit. Her name suits her. That's why I didn't change it in this journal.
My sister and her husband are giving, caring and patient. Their house is so peaceful to me. Even when it's loud and all 3 kids are crying. It's my second home. I feel loved there and so does Zoe. Her cousins are her "brud-der and sister." I can't imagine her not seeing them on a regular basis. My entire family for that matter. Momo and Papa (my parents) and all of my brothers and sisters.
I love my beautiful nephew and neice. I would love my child to have that experience.
Any one of my family members would be better parents than his family. Better parents that he is himself. (2 times a week for a few hours hardly qualifies anyone to be a parent).
I don't know if Dickford would ever agree to that. I would never stop him from seeing Zoe, but think he can handle raising her. He's never even had her for more than one night, and even then I used to pick her up by 9am. Usually only a few hours at a time, and usually when I pick her up he was beyond frazzled. Welcome to my world, Dickford. It sometimes sucks.
I will do my will before my 36th birthday. July, folks.
--------------------------
I started writing an entry documenting all the fucked up things that have been going on for the past five days.
Just the same old bullshit that sometimes makes up my life. It's not even worth writing about.
I actually prayed a rosary on my commute home. I worked late so I drove home in 20 minutes (versus the usual 75 minutes). I didn't finish because I couldn't really remember how to say it. It was very calming even though I didn't remember the words.
As I wrote, it all drained from me. The fighting, financial desperation, aggrevation, frustration, and the feelings of sadness and unwellness. I just don't feel well.
I read today that David Letterman is taking a break. I wish I could do that. A week off sounds great. He said he had T.A.S. "Tired Ass Syndrome." David, dude, welcome to my world.
Ok, y'all, I did make a Dr.'s appointment with my endocrinologist, so hopefully he can work something out. My Doctor of seven years actually has gone back to school, so I'm going to a new guy in two weeks. Not my favorite experience, but something is just off kilter. I am not feeling well, and that feeling is just not going away like it usually does.
I've been doing some research on my symptoms, but nothing is coming up. Swelling in my lower legs. Muscle cramps. Dehydration even though I drink water all day. Je sui fatigue (that's all the french I remember). High blood sugar no matter what I eat. My lips, feet and palms are peeling. Blurry vision and lower back pain. All in all it doesn't sound good and it makes me feel like I'm 80. 90 even.
Where is that goob Dr. Egypt when I need him? He pampered me. I have this feeling he isn't coming on the 20th. Well, it's ok. I forgot that I promised Sis #1 that I would babysit that entire weekend for her husband's 20th class reunion.
I'm needing my mom. I'm needing my mom and a big ol' glass of water.
---------------------
I'm back at the stage I was before when I never had sex. I am starting to not even notice. I don't think about it. I don't miss it. I'm sure once I have sex again I'm going to knock my head on the wall and wonder what I was doing all this time without it.
I miss my mom more than I miss sex.
I hope that I can remember how to say the rosary. The traffic is brutal in the morning so I have nearly an hour and a half to say it. The radio stations here are so lame, I'd rather pray.
Send me some good vibe.
Je sui fatigue.
My head hurts. I've been having some seriously bad days. Bad enough to not even be able to write about them. I'm not starving and I'm alive. Hip Hip Hooray! Fuck me.
I'm missing her. Yet again, the Magic Zoe. Share with me. [edit] there were originally many pictures in this post. For my friend *diz*
9 months old. She was walking then.
Dancing at my brothers wedding.
ok, go home and hug your kids or your dogs or whatever you have that you can hug.
B-E-G - Hang in there. Didn't you know mindreader is in the friggin job description? Work by osmosis. Also, I love it that you know about baseball and horse racing. You're so cool!
---------------------
Ok, Dr. E finally FINALLY fucking called.
Sheesh.... and me.... I still suck.
Same thing as usual. I wondered why he's not calling me, go through all my doomsday scenarios, etc.
I remained calm on the phone while secretly wanting to jump and cry and be all happy.
And every time it's no big deal to him. He misses me. He's been busy doing things. No apology for not calling. Because he's a guy. They don't understand that the phone call is critical. (ok, some of them... ok, most of them... Burns, you're excluded)
Twenty five minute conversation. He thinks about me all the time. He misses me very much. "You're the only thing about Houston I miss." His voice. It actually was sincere.
He sounded so relaxed. He was finally just hanging out for a change. He's not a phone person. I think the longest conversation we had ever had was like 10 minutes.
He's currently making arrangements to come to Houston. He may stay with me or another friend, but he wants to spend a few days together... sans Zoe if possible.
I still don't know how I feel about this.
I hate it that I want to workout like crazy and eat really clean, and scrub my house until he gets here so that he will think I've been too busy to miss him.
I hate it that this call changed my mood for the day. (Lara said to another coworker, "If you want something from Deb, you better ask now. She's in a really good mood." He asked if I got laid last night or something.)
I hate it that I will be really sad if he changes plans and doesn't come.
Mostly I feel like a dork for attaching some of my happiness to him and to how I feel without him.
Just when I was adjusting to life without him. Working more at work (don't call Guiness just yet). Writing here (heh), reading, gardening, playing with Zoe. Sheesh.
I think I am going to pretend I never got that call and to get busy with getting on with my life.
Shit.
Well last night I had called Dickford's office and left him a voicemail about how he needs to corral his fucking maid slut.
He phoned this morning and said he didn't know what I was talking about. I relayed the Skank Ho story and needless to say he was quite pissed off. He said he was sorry that she messed with me and that it wouldn't happen again.
He said he's not living with her.
And monkeys will fly out of my ass.
------------------------------
My friend Meena (who used to go out with Dickford) laughed. She made me give her Skank Ho's cell phone number. She was going to call from a payphone and curse her out in Spanish.
How fun is that.
Things I would not like Zoe to do:
1. Play hooky
2. Float checks
3. Kill plants
4. Not clean her hamster's cage
5. Read cheesy books
6. Skip going to the doctor
7. Call her ex Dickford
8. Have a job where she can wear slacker clothes even though I (oops she) really shouldn't.
9. Say she sucks so much
10. Curse at strange whorish women on the phone (was it me or did Zoe repeat skank ho... no, she was still in the tub)
11. Belittle maids
12. Say babies are ugly and not care if they get splatted by a moving van
13. Hack into someones cell phone account to get a slutty homewrecking maid's telephone number
14. Write an online journal telling everyone her daughters secrets and goofy stories and posting pictures of her. (especially an avatar of her daughter in mid-pick)
I'm sure there are many many more things I wouldn't want Zoe to do that I do myself. I don't want to go over the message limits.
But I did plant strawberries for her so that maybe one day we can make her favorite shortcake with our own strawberries.
And we did paint, which is one of her most favorite things to do.
And I did read every Maisy book she owns, including the Dr. Maisy book.
And watched 2 Blues Clues videos with her before naptime. Although she fell asleep during the first one. The 2nd one was for me.
And I did buy her a bathing suit with a matching green plastic grass skirt because that's the one she really wanted even though it cost $2 more than the one I picked out.
Ok, sometimes I don't suck that bad.
I'll go to confession.
Night!
Jes, I am the wife.
If you haven't read it, find the post on my husband knocking up the cleaning lady. Today it is kind of relevant.
Dickford (my ex's new name in this journal) was supposed to come over and take Zoe to get some ice cream or something tonight. He never showed. Or called for that matter.
Nice. It was ok for once. I was very mellow today.
I woke up extra early this morning. I've been slacking (yes, I always slack... so just zipit) and I wanted to get to work early for a change. Just to not give them a reason to fire me.
I wondered why it was so dark. Well it's because we had a little thunderstorm activity going on. Major. Big time major, right on top of us. I was thinking about taking a shower, but was like, HELL NO. Tornados lurking. Especially if Zoe woke up to all the thunder. She'd freak out.
So I decided...
We'd
Both
Play
(Shhhhhhhhh.....)
Hooky.
Yeah, I'm setting a bad example for her. Skip school if you don't feel like going. But my legs are still swelling (fuck). And yes, I know I need to go to my endocrinologist, but he's gonna give me a ration of shit. I promise to y'all that I'll go within the next two weeks. That's if I don't die, ok.
Anyway. Not only was I not feeling well, sucky commuting weather, but my house was a mess and I didn't have any clean work clothes. Ok, rephrase, I didn't have any clean work clothes that I felt like wearing. I actually have an entire closet full of the pre-Zoe work clothes. The power suits, designer jackets, blouses. The clothes real people wear to work. I Stopped wearing panty hose and all that other crap like 5 years ago. Fuckit. They don't pay me enough to dry clean my clothes and I'm not schlepping engineering figures around in high heels.
So I made myself promise that if I played hooky with Zoe that I'd clean up and do laundry and play with Zoe. And yes, I did. More so than not. It's not spotless, but it's good enough for a day off. And we painted on her new Nemo coloring book.
Although I still suck because I didn't clean Baby Jack's cage. I fed him, so get off my case you animal loving commies. *heh*
We also did some shopping. I wrote checks because I get paid in a few days so I know I can float a bit. I'm too afraid to actually check my account online, but I'll suffer for it tomorrow. I'll gladly pay Tuesday for my hamburger today.
Zoe and I did some digging in the dirt. I bought indoor pots. We planted 5 herbs in one (they shoot out the sides) and then bought one for strawberries. I hope I don't kill them. I like cooking with fresh herbs, so I hope that one does well. Usually I kill cactus.
Zoe and I played a lot. We usually never get to, so I was going to make this day fun for her since I was cleaning so much. I let her wash the windows - her favorite. We sang lots of songs, listed to some John Lennon and read a few books. She was loving it. We even took a three hour nap. Incredible.
I bought some more cheese books. Jane Green - People Magazine books. Hey, at least I'm still reading.
Which is where I was at the end of my day. Zoe singing in the bathtub. Me in bed reading a book.
Lovely lovely day. Until.....
My phone rings - it's the weird ring from a PRIVATE number. Actually I think it only rings that way when someone returns a call to me from when I left them a voice message. Intrigued, I pick up.
It's a chick. Disgustingly thick Spanish accent.
"Uh, hello, did you call Dickford's phone?"
"Yeah, I did. He's my ex husband. Who is this?" Silence. Long Pause.
"Well he's asleep. Can I take a message?"
Durrr?? So tactfully I say, "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?"
Unintelligible response. She hangs up.
I call back. The Skank Ho picks up.
"Ok, just go get Dickford and put him on the phone."
She asks me, "Do you know who this is?"
I'm like, "I don't give a shit who this is. Put him on the phone you stupid bitch."
"This is Brittny's mom. You see. I won. He's living with me now." She's got this tone to her voice, like I should feel bad or something.
Cool. He's now living with the cleaning lady he knocked up when I was 8 months pregnant. Wonderful.
"Good for you. I'm sure you make a wonderful couple. You, him and your fucking ugly baby. Now put Dickford on the phone you stupid cunt. Do something useful and wake him up you dumb ass."
Now I know he's not there. NBA finals are on. He'd never be asleep. Especially since it's only like 8 o'clock. I'm sure she's all suspect of him because that's just his personality. You can just never ever believe a word he is saying. I feel it. I'm sure she saw his phone blinking and checked his voicemail. Last time he left it at my house, that's what I did just for fun. Yeah, I'm a bitch.
Plus I know he's not there because I got her all in a tizzy (I guess it's because I was so polite to her) and she's screaming about how ugly I am and how I'd never get a man, and how she won. He'd never sleep through that much noise.
She's blathering on and on, and I'm cursing up a storm laughing my ass off. She mentions some shit about how he's still with me.
I'm like... drumroll...
"What the fuck are you talking about? Trust me, Juanita, (her name is Raina - sorry, I was just being a total bitch) you can have him. He's ugly, stupid and poor. I hope you are paying his bills. Here, I'll pay you. I just took a massive shit. Why don't you bring your ugly, short, fatass over here to clean my toilet you fucking maid?"
[aside]
I've had a few housekeepers come over to my house to help on a couple of occasions. I never ever insult them. I Overpay them. Feed them. Tip them. And I clean my own toilet. I don't feel comfortable letting anyone else wipe the loo.
I'm still going off on her. I can't help myself. I'm not even mad. I just want to hurt her feelings. Seriously, there's NO amount of money in this world offered that would make me take him back. I mean maybe a big big big amount, but only big enough so I could live in a separate city and that I'd never have to see or touch or kiss him or anything.
I don't think she could fathom that I find him totally repulsive. That I sooooo don't think he's a good catch. It's hilarious. I can't stop myself from being such a bitch. She was too easy of a target.
The only thing that makes me mad is that she took him away from Zoe. She doesn't care about what an ass he is. He's her dad.
in hindsite...
splitting up our marriage was a favor to all of us.
That and the thought that he perhaps has had Zoe around her or her bastard child. I told him that was never allowed. Ever Ever and fucking Ever. I'd take her away for good if he ever did that. When Zoe is 18, I'll tell Dickford that he can tell her what he did and who little Brittny is. (yes, that's her name and that's how she spelled it)
If they want to hang out and be friends, go for it. But in the meantime, I'm not going to explain to Zoe that Brittny is her special sister.
And yes, little Brittny is ugly. I saw her picture in his old apartment. She looks like a caveman child. With squinty little eyes. Squinty-eyed caveman child in a frou-frou Walmart dress. She looks nothing like my gorgeous child. (go see prior posts to the link of my beautygirl... I'm not prejudiced. She really is pretty... hee hee )
And don't lecture me on how it's not Brittny's fault that her mom is a homewrecking whore. I don't want to hear it. I don't care if that kid gets hit by a mack truck. Fuck her.
Her mom didn't give a flying fuck about me, or about Zoe. So I hope she is miserable and I hope that her child turns out to be as miserable and stupid as she is. Fuck homewreckers. They deserve the life they bred.
I'm sure I'll change my mind one day and will get over it, but right now I don't want to. I want to remember what a homewrecking bitch she was and what a dick he was. He was a dick and I had absolutely no clue when it happened that he was capable of being such an utter and complete fuck.
I was blindsided and I don't want it to happen again (and yes Lori S. Egypt, Schmegypt - thanks babe!)
This is what makes me strong. This is why I try so hard to be a good mom. I can't let Zoe see me screw my life up. To see me screw our lives up. I can't let her see me date assholes. I try not to behave or do things that I wouldn't want her to do. She deserves better.
Dickford has nothing to offer. Not for me or for Zoe. Zoe doesn't know it yet. I won't ever discourage her or belittle her dad in front of her. But one day, she's going to find out.
Until then, I'm all she has.
I just hope that's good enough for her.
Night y'all. Be loving and thankful today.
[P.S. and final aside]
I was so tempted to post her cell phone number in my journal. Just so you could call and bitch at her for me. Don't ask me how I got it, but I'm not a nice person today.
Too much goofing off and actual real work yesterday, so I’ll finish this today.
And yet another too too short weekend. Babysat Friday. Took two of the under 3 crowd to a ranch on Saturday. And before you say it, that’s the closest thing to cowpoke I’ll admit to.
Sis #1’s hubby invited Zoë and I to join him and his kid to his law partner’s 50 acre ranch. It’s more like a single-wide in the middle of the woods, but he had about 20 cattle and one horse, so it counts as a ranch.
I secretly lust his law partner, Bo. He’s gorgeous, tan and has most excellent muscles. Too bad his choice in women is highly questionable. He was married to a former playmate that traumatized him. She is now an “intern” on a local radio station. She sucks! He still dates the bimbo types. We got a 3am bootie call Saturday night, but it wasn’t from a needy client.
Bo’s the kind of guy you wish you could smack into reality, but in the mean time, you just secretly want to fuck him, but you won’t because he’s too unreliable.
He was so gracious though. It was sort of unexpected. He seems shallow, but was very groovy. Maybe he’s only shallow when drunk or picking up chicks. I, obviously, am not his type. He stares a lot, but I think it’s because I’m so ghostly white. Hard to fathom. I’m starting to think I’m not anyone’s type anymore. Except maybe myself. I sort of dig me.
The trailer was painted like a cow. “Look, Mommy, a cow house.” It had 3 bedrooms, satellite TV, a playground in the back ($2,000 jungle gym), big blow up pool, and a fully stocked kitchen. There were porches all around with lovely rocking chairs and Christmas lights in the trees.
All day Zoë and her cousin wore their cowboy boots and played and ran around. Zoë’s never been that dirty in her life. Bikini and her boots or barefoot. I was kind of sad about it. She so rarely gets to play all day. We are always rushing around. She never gets that dirty either, because we usually are going somewhere.
They played all on the jungle gym. Then watched the cows. They took the kids down to the pond and fed the catfish and the duck. She was barefoot all day. I never let her go barefoot. I think we are overdue for a vacation. She needs to play. I need to be doing nothing for days.
It was nice because I was outside for a while, but had the three guys to watch the kids. I went inside and cleaned Bo’s kitchen. I have a hamster. I know rodent poop when I see it. So I unleashed my inner Momo instincts (my mom whom they all call The White Tornado. Don’t get in her path once she gets started.) I then prepped the food for the barbeque. Bo was impressed. Too bad my legs are too muscular and my boobs aren’t DDs.
When the kids went to bed, we all sat outside in the rocking chairs and drank rum and cokes. It reminded me of the scene in Fandango with the lights at the wedding and dancing. I’ve never seen so many stars. We just sat there and listened to the music. No talking.
Bo has speakers outside and was blasting the Songs and Singers channel. Doris Day. Sinatra. Nina Simone. There’s nothing like mooing cows and Tony Bennett in the middle of nowhere.
I’m hoping we get to go back. My Zoë loved it.
----------------------
Zoë cracked me up yesterday. We went to the grocery store. She insisted upon wearing her Barbie dress up shoes. They are pink-plastic platform mules with hot pink sequins on the front. She thought she was the bomb. “Barbie tap shoes.”
Zoë kept slipping. She even fell a few times. But she was too stubborn to cry about it because she didn’t want to ride in the cart. She just got right back up. “I ok mommy.”
Here she was… clickety clackety all around the store. She was shaking the little bit God gave her.
Three going on 30.
----------------------
Dr. Egypt is back in the country.
I finally reached him Friday night. He said he just got back the day before and was moving in. He wants to come to Houston to see me, but isn’t sure if he will have time to do it. He said to call him Saturday, but I didn’t feel like it.
I know he wants to call it off, but he’s being a fucking baby about it. I’m sad as hell, but it’s his fucking loss. What a dumbass. Life is too short not to love someone you care about, even if they are far away.
Just because he’s busy and in another state, he wants to not see me anymore. Though he says he adores me. I’m busy too. Even though he’s far away doesn’t mean we can’t talk to each other once in a while or see each other on occasion. I guess it’s easier to forget about me. I wish he’d come out and say it instead of giving me all the double meaning crap. Saying one thing and not calling me. Fuck. Well I can’t do shit about how he feels.
I’m trying to think about all the annoying and bothersome things he does so that I won’t feel so bad. But I still feel fucking miserable. I’ll get over it. I don’t have the time or the luxury to mope. Fuck that. Zoë needs me.
Oh well, I got one of those sappy crappy emails this morning. From some of my journal reading and some for myself, I think we all should read them. They’re all true, so suck it up.
And don’t barf. It’ll make your keyboard sticky.
Quote:
1. I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.
2. No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.
3. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
4. A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
5. The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.
6. Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.
7. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.
8. Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you.
9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.
10. Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.
11. There's always going to be people that hurt you so what you have to do is keep on trusting and just be more careful about who you trust next time around.
12. Make yourself a better person and know who you are before you try and know someone else and expect them to know you.
13. Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.
Bye for now. I’m going to go bang my head on the wall.
I’ll snap soon. Don’t give up on me yet. I haven’t.