When Zoe was a baby, her dad wanted to call her vagina a cookie. That sounded a bit too perverted to me. A cookie? All I could picture is her high school boyfriend asking to eat her cookie. What did that make cookie monster then? A big hairy blue pervert who liked cuninglingus. Cookies and cream ice cream. Food. Pussy. Not a good combo for a toddler learning to talk.
Nah. So we went with Po Po. It still is perverted sounding. But I couldn't imagine a two year old saying "I washed my vagina."
So Po Po it was.
But now, the rappers call the police "po po." My bitches done got busted by the po po, and now my tricks aren't getting tricked. (bad white girl rap, I don't know - whatever. You know what I mean.)
So on the way up to Kemah, I mentioned po po to Chef. And we saw a female police officer.
That made her a po po with a Po Po.
Peace and Po Pos to you all.
I got out of the shower once and Zoe was pretty little. She looked up at me and said, "Momma, your po po is spicy."
I still don't know what she meant.
Friday night. Sushi and Cheffy. Watched Cold Mountain. Cheesy, but I liked it. The rest of the night is secret. Lovely.
Saturday went to a party with some friends. Was good to see the old ones, and nice to meet the new ones. I had house envy as her house was small but gorgeous. I wish she could decorate my place for me. Chef cooked some pork roast on the bbq & it was awesome as usual. I practically passed out, but all was well. I knew Zoe was coming home on Sunday, so I didn't drink too much. Just needing some extra sleep. I'm feeling it today at work - blah!
Cheffy and I took Zoe to Kemah on Sunday. It's really a cool part of Houston (well about 45 minutes outside of H-town, but still, you know what I mean). It's a boardwalk with rides, restaurants and shops.
On the way up, Zoe was sitting in her carseat and held up her hand with the peace sign. She said it was a rabbit.
Then she both hands up to her mouth with her index and middle fingers curled. She said it was a bat. When I asked her if it bit, she said, "No, bats slurp your blood." Woah. Mmmmmkay.
I love my new car. Damn, I do.
We started off eating at this restaurant with a 500,000 gallon aquarium. They had sharks and these huge fish. Chef knew what they all were & he took Zoe around to go look at the baby Nemos and then the big tank.
[aside]
She always is a little off when I pick her up from her dads. She was misbehaving a bit and being super whiny when we first got to the restaurant. Like crawling on the floor and sitting there whiny.
Me like a dork, picked her up (hurting my back again - damnit) and took her to the bathroom. We had a little talk (she mostly with backtalk) and finally I gave her a smack on the butt. I hated that I had to resort to that, but she was being impossible. After that, I had my Zoe back. I don't know what that was all about, but it was weird and disconcerning.
I love/hate when she goes to her dad's. She comes back acting up and sometimes is really smart mouthed. I don't know why she does this, but I think it is the disruption in her schedule. It breaks my heart. I also think her behavior is also related to the numbers of hours she actually sleeps.
Which is by far, not enough.
[aside over]
After lunch, we walked around the boardwalk and went on this huge speedboat for a ride. They played very campy/pop music and there were two crewmembers that squirted you with waterguns and sang and danced to the music. Zoe loved it and was singing along. My fav was her doing the Macarena.
We then went on some of the rides - ferris wheel and Zoe went on this air balloon ferris wheel thing for the kids. She had a fantastic time. We got her this Dora the Explorer tattoo and then got some ice cream because it was Cambodia jungle hot.
She was asleep before we got back to the main freeway.
It was nice being a family and hanging out.
-----------------------------
My lease is up at the end of November. Cheffy and I have been looking at 2 bedroom places. It is scary, but I'd love to move to a nicer place where Zoe has her own room and a place just for her / her stuff.
We found this lovely apartment, but we've also been thinking of renting a house. I wouldn't mind this, but don't want some old brady bunch place, where all the stuff falls apart and is in constant need of repair. I'm also pretty leery to most Houston places because the floods have wrecked havoc on many houses around this swamp.
That's all I'd need is a kid who is sick all the time because the walls are full of hidden mold. And sometimes I wonder why someone would lease out a nice house?
I really did like the apartment. Huge patio and a great room for Zoe.
Hmmmm. Regardless, this weekend was awesome and full of possibility. Full of glimpses of my future with my little family. I am diggin that.
Looking forward to next weekend.
And no, I didn't go see Hanson. Mmmmmtootiredtobop.
http://www.kemah.photogra.com/index.cfm
Type in the date (08/29/04) and the number 4863
Heh.
Zoe's dad is picking her up Friday after school. She comes back on Sunday.
Heh.
You're goin down, sucka!
Rock Star Chef night. Maybe on Sunday.
deb_u_: wanna go with me and zoe to see Hanson on sunday night?
lara: hanson!
deb_u_: mmmmmbop!
lara: er... no!
lara: mmmmmmmcrap!
deb_u_: c'mon it will be funny
deb_u_: zoe is gonna go with me
lara: mmmmmvomit!
deb_u_: oh you know you want one of them
lara: mmmmmmmpedophile
deb_u_: hahahahaha
Now that the world can't read this, Lara can I start using a different name for you? Closer to your real name? Or do you just want to be called BBL (Boutros Boutros Lara)
I love you, man.
We were walking to our car from Sis #1s house at about midnight last Saturday. I babysat and Zoe was all jammied up and half asleep. It was really dark, and she has a longgg driveway (that she had paved with her Who Wants to be a Millionaire money.)
We get in the car and Zoe says, "I'm scared, Mommy. It's really dark."
"Don't be scared, Lil' Z. Mom's with you, and nobody messes with Mommy."
"Yeah, nobody messes with Zoe either. Or I'l kick their ass!"
She said it so matter of factly. No DNA test to see that she's my kid.
Holiday In Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys
So you been to school for a year or two
And you know you've seen it all
In daddy's car thinkin' you'll go far
Back east your type don't crawl
Play ethnicky jazz to parade your snazz
On your five grand stereo
Braggin that you know how the niggers feel cold
And the slums got so much soul
It's time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear
It's a holiday in Cambodia
It's tough kid, but it's life
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Don't forget to pack a wife
Your a star-belly sneech you suck like a leech
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch so you can get rich
But your boss gets richer on you
Well you'll work harder with a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice a day
Slave for soldiers til you starve
Then your head skewered on a stake
Now you can go where people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need my son:
Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people dress in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll kiss ass or crack
Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot [etc.]
And it's a holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll do what you're told
A holiday in Cambodia
Where the slums got so much soul
I Fought the Law (and I Won)
Drinkin' beer in the hot sun
I fought the law and I won
I needed sex and I got mine
I fought the law and I won
The law don't mean shit if you've got the right friends
That's how the country's run
Twinkies are the best friend I've ever had
I fought the law
And I won
I blew George & Harvey's brains out with my six-gun
I fought the law and I won
Gonna write my book and make a million
I fought the law and I won
I'm the new folk hero of the Ku Klux Klan
My cop friends think that's fine
You can get away with murder if you've got a badge
I fought the law
And I won
I am the law
So I won
deb_u_taunt2002: why don't you leave my fucking name out of your goddamned mouth once and for fucking all. get over yourself!
Apparently they posted the link to my site in the chatroom last night. And were talking shit about me.
Whatever. I hate the assholes, but that's not what is making me feel sick right now. Not even close. All that shit doesn't make me feel one way or another.
I'm having the day from hell. I can't talk about it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to grasp the consequences of this. Or stop feeling the way I do.
I feel like I want to run and hide.
And I'm trying really hard not to cry here at work. But it wouldn't matter. They don't talk to me anyway, and no one is here today.
So why am I here? I have no fucking idea.
If you can read this, then you're too close.
But it means I love you.
Big thanks to Sass, Em, SirHank and those of you that have supported me so much.
I'm off to eat some cornnuts. Because I'm sick like that.
And please do not give out the passwords. If someone wants it, please have them contact me. And if you are reading this, then you'd know how to do that, no?
Most of you that read this journal have been reading it for a while. I love y'all. Some of you are new friends that read this because we really do have a lot in common and you get my quirky sense of humor. I love y'all too.
One of you reads it because you are in my bed every night. heh. I REALLY love you!
But I have recently found out that some shitards from both my past and my present are coming on here because they are total losers and want to read about me.
Now my question to you dicks is simply, why?
Why the fuck do you care? Why do you want to be a voyeur into my journal?
You say I'm an evil person? Well if you really read my journal in it's entirety, you'd probably not think the same thing. (see the stories of my heartbeat, Zoe - no wait. You can't. I was forced to block anyone from reading for a while - you cunts!) If you know me personally, like met me in person - talked to me for an extended period of time, you'd also know that is not true.
So those of you who "think" they know me, based on saying hi once, or seeing me at a club or a bar, or just reading a few rants on my blog or posts on a forum, you can eat shit out a dog's ass.
Because you have about zero credibility on saying I'm an evil person full of hate if you don't fucking know me. You fucking assholes. You pathetic turds.
I can be a fucking bitch. You fuck with me. You provoke me. You talk shit about me, and I can fucking slam with the best of them. I'm a writer. I edit for a living. And I know how to make what I say fucking hurt sometimes. I'm good at it. Call it snark or call it evil, but I call it talent. And it's the only defense I have. And I'm glad for that.
Because you people are truly the evil pathetic, ruthless assholes. Go fuck your girlfriend, Jed and stay the fuck out of here. Go hit the gym Accent and Notapain. Put a bag over your head TrueKatyLady. Get a fucking makeover, you ugly motherfuckers. Get a fucking life. Go live. Get the fuck away from me. (and yeah, I'll tell you the same thing to your ugly fucking faces if I meet you in person)
So, since I'm a mean bitch when I want to be, does this mean that is who I am in person? Well, sort of. My true friends know me. They know that I mean it without meaning it. Most of the time I write it, then fucking forget it.
Why? Because you assholes don't mean shit to me. That's why people that truly know me know that if you mean something to me, I'd just about do anything for you. And I have. I love my friends big. I am loyal. I am nice. I am grateful. I am funny. I am snarky. I am caring. I'm a good mom. I am a good girlfriend. I fucking rock and would want me for a friend.
But you??
You are the same kind of people that stare at a carwreck I bet. I can picture that notapain dirtbag wacking off with some Jergens to gay porn. TrueKatyLady and Accent8d must drool on their computers waiting with baited breath for someone to pay even a bit of attention to them. Waiting for their true love. Yeah. Collect social security before that happens.
Or the rest of you must really be pathetic losers who sit at a computer all day and have nothing better to do than to run your mouths slamming people because you really don't have the imagination or the brass balls to get a life and go live it.
I'm on the computer. A LOT. I sit here all day and read about toxic waste for a living. I need a bit of escape. At night, I'm home alone long after my kiddo goes to sleep. I've read every book in my house. Most of them twice. I don't watch tv except on Tuesdays and I don't want Zoe at a sitter so I can go out to desperately try to find the latest get together with the HC Forum Whores. So when Chef isn't around, I read blogs, forums, goof around a bit on my computer.
But most nights I'm snugged up with my sweetie. I play with my kiddo and kiss my Cheffy. The computer is the last thing I even think about.
So basically what the fuck does this all mean?
It means, you ugly assholes, that you can start judging me when you first look in the Goddamned mirror and realize that YOU are the ones that are desperate and full of self loathing.
Get a life. And stay the fuck out of mine.
And to the rest of you, I love you. Seriously. And I appreciate the kind words and your support. And lots of you I really miss. Very much.
So, Peace and well, Peace to you.
And thanks, Candyfloss. Whatever you want, name it. Thanks for getting my back and for knowing who I am and what this journal, my version of therapy, means to me. I appreciate the work on my blog to keep the vermin out.
You fucking rock it!
If I haven't asked you to read my journal, then most likely you are an asshole that I don't want reading this.
(yes, Accent & notapain from Houston Connect, I mean your dumb asses).
So if I can get help from my girl Candyfloss or this other cool blog chick I know, I'm fixin to put debutaunt on lockdown. Yes, all my loved ones are welcome to read this, but I don't want every dick, dick and harry reading my daily toil.
Some people just have no idea who I am and think they are judge and jury as to who I am based on reading a few rants.
Fuck you, douchebags!
And to those that know and understand me (based on more than just what they read), I love you. And you know that! And I'd be happy to give up the password once I get this bitch locked up!
Some days I really wish I'd win the lottery. I hate to think about money. When I want something, I really hate to think about prices. I hate it when I feel poor. I get paid well enough that I never am actually poor. But some days it feels that way. And I know that worse case scenario, there's always a trust fund to fall back on. But it's not something that I ever really even think about. It's for Zoe's school.
Because of all this money stuff, my adorable Cheffy has been considering going back into engineering. This would mean money, but lots of travel.
On one hand, the money would be fantastic. Not having to think about bills and nonsense like that would be cool, but it would also mean that I would rarely see him. And the worst part of that picture is that he'd not be cooking - which is something he lives for.
I could take this for a little bit, but long term, say with no definite end date would be fairly sad for me. I'd miss seeing him all the time. I have Zoe to keep me occupied. I know I could start back at the gym and put in some serious rehab on my back. But this only gets you so far when you are home alone every night. No arms around you. It gets lonely.
I told him to take care of what he needs to and whatever he decides, I'll support him in it. Absolutely. It would be nice to have a chunk of savings to start our lives on, or say travel or go on a nice honeymoon or something, but not at his expense. Not worth it. Regardless, it is yet a small hump in all the humps of life. I'm not worried. Not one bit. The man has talent, and it is going to work out.
I get the feeling that he thinks I take him for granted sometimes. I know lately I've been preoccupied with the car stuff and finances, so I'm sure he's been feeling that things aren't as sweet as they are.
But they ARE sweet. When he's with me, I'm content. I forget all of it. I think it's the hands. Yeah, they are still blessed. heh.
Money worries and budgeting are a pain in the ass to me. Mostly I just need to know where I stand on things. And I'm spending a fuckton of money on the car.
It's well worth it, but yeah, Cheffy, it would have been nice to walk in to that dealer and write a check for the whole thing. Then I would have told them to go fuck themselves if they tried that finance flim flam shit then.
I know things will work out. I hate to see Cheffy glum. I hate spending time thinking about interest rates (yeah, they fucked my deal & I'm already re-financing to try to save myself the $8,300 in interest). It's a mess, and not even worth discussing.
Anyway, I sometimes wish I had more money. It's never going to make you happy, but it's nice not to have to balance your checkbook.
On to more fun things ... Um, not.
Zoe's dad flipped out on me. Acting like a real ass and backing out on picking up Zoe. Chef and I were going to go on a date too. Fucktard. He pretended like he never promised. Then he tried to tell me that today was my payday and next week was my week to pay the daycare. I was like, um no, shitbrick. You skipped a week when you went to New York. You owe late fees and another week of daycare next week. I don't see how hard it is to come up with $120 every other week. Dipshit. It's one thing if he's apologetic, but he was trying to act an ass.
You know it's a bad day when you talk to your bank, your dad, your boss, your car dealershits (yeah shits - Joe Myers Mitsubishi in Houston), and your fucking ex asshole all in one day. That was just the personal stuff.
Then I had two major letters going out today. Lots of figures, attachments, copying crap. I was also working on a Health and Safety Plan, a bid for a new pipeline project, and trying to track 3 UPS packages to bumfuck Louisiana. It's nice to be busy, but shit... didn't they realize I had personal stuff to do??
Not to mention that I was supposed to leave at 1pm. I finally got out of there about 2 hours later.
So I bugged out & went to a movie by myself. The Bourne Supremacy. Ok, um, yeah, Matt Damon did look hot. It was brainless & just what I needed.
I'm finally home. Z and I went to Mickey D's for some jungle gym time with a friend from daycare (cause she was expecting dad to pick her up and sobbed when she saw it was just lil ol' me. She's fine now, but it's times like that that you wish you had test tubed it).
Lilo and Stitch tonight.
It's sweet. Sweeter when I get your arms around me.
Peace and Pumpkin seeds to you all.
You all are right. Thank you for correcting me.
It is YOU'RE A DICK.
No, wait. It really is, "You're a crusty, cracked, dry-spooge and shit-caked, herpes-infected, little, crooked, ugly, limp dick."
AND it smells like a bum's nutsack.
I'm sure I fucked the grammar up on that one as well. I know my grammar is for crap, but as long as it's better than the goober-y engineers around here, I'm still employed for the time being.
Yay for that.
Now I know where I get my meanness from.
My dad is the most awesome dad. He's always been there for us and would do anything for any of his seven kids.
But when his match is lit, boy can he lay into you. And cut you where it most hurts. He did this to me last night. I was too stunned to speak. I'm too stunned to even write about it.
But I'm capable of the same when I am provoked. Unfortunately some that love me know this.
Is it genetic? Possibly. But it must stop with me. It's too cruel.
I'm going to go back to the starting point and figure out a few things.
It's really funny to me that the enemies of my enemy are reading my journal. Your a dick. And then you ate four buckets of chicken and farted. Go away already. You are soooo far removed from my life, but Jesus, it's obvious that you still come here to read my journal. Just like you do to Aimee. You say she bugs the snot out of you, yet you are constantly quoting her journal on the IRC. You are so obsessed. Weird fuck. Go screw your therapist if you want a weird thrill.
Rock Star Chef night - Saturday.
After a long and somewhat grueling afternoon at the Mitsubishi dealer, I drove off with my new car and said goodbye to the Cheerio-mobile aka the Anti-Christ. It was a bit sad because my dad did me such a good deed with that car, but I always disliked it so.
Even more so when it started breaking down & I had to replace various tires about six times.
So I drove off the lot with my New (although bit used - 10K miles) Mitsubishi Endeavor. I am now a SUV owner. But after driving it, and getting ZKat in and out of her carseat without having to bend, it was well worth it.
So that night I drove my new baby to see my baby at work. We saw Ozomatli, and they were phenomenal.
If you can, go there and purchase the Street Signs CD. Amazing.
Jams great in my new car.
Had a Zoe-less weekend. It was way too short. Cheffy and I are long overdue for a roadtrip and a grown-up weekend to ourselves. Not sure when this will happen, but it's so nice to spend time with him. We did a lot of cooking on Sunday. I love being able to share that. Maybe I will become a better cook ... doubtful, but he inspires me to cook.
I adore you, sweetie.
Adios.
http://graphics.jsonline.com/graphics/wheels/img/apr03/endevbig041503.jpg
Yeah, baby!
It's beautiful and already much nicer to drive in.
Had a great weekend, but have work to do. More later :)
I'd link it, but I don't want the spies to infiltrate the masses. Let me know if you want the link & I'll email it to you.
supposed to cross out what doesn't belong to you.
JULY:
Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves to be alone. Always broods about the past and the old friends. Likes to be quiet. Homely person. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not aggressive unless provoked. Prone to having stomach and dieting problems. Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.
Chef is going through some stuff with his cheffiness. We have some big decisions ahead of us. But that's cool. I know whatever happens, we will work it all out. And have fun doing it.
And I have some health issues that I WILL CONQUER. I am determined.
I walked to Taco Cabana for lunch and pretended that I wasn't in pain. I'm skipping the vicodan because it doesn't seem to be doing much. I think it is because I stopped taking the anti-inflamatories with it (which makes it work better). But the A-I have some yuck side effects.
Regardless, I'm going to heal. Or at least I'm going to mentally block out the pain as much as I can. Fuck that shit. I'm tired of being all gimpy.
I want a new car. I'm itching for one. So is Chef. I want a Nissan Xterra. I am determined there too. I'm going to get something. And I'm going to get something I want.
My car is such a pain. I got it from my dad (well I've paid like 5 years on the damn thing). I'm grateful, but I hate paying $300 a month for a car I would have never bought (bleegh, Ford Taurus), I don't like, and I don't like driving. It's no longer under warranty and I've been having some issues with it. I know I can budget a car payment, but I sure can't budget car repairs in addition to that.
Life is good. It's been hard, but still good. Chef and I have had some issues (not related to our "family," but more of external issues going on). And it's nice to be with someone who is as determined as I am. We will get through this and we are going to kick some ass. Why? Because we want to and because we love eachother. I might write some more when we get this resolved.
Tonight I'm babysitting for my Sis #1. Sis #2 and I have sort of done the byegones thing. I'm so relieved. I adore that girl. And so does my Zoe. I hope that we can just forget that stuff. I hope that one day she (and her hubs) will realize that I count on her and I wish she could count on me back. There aren't many people in this world that I have known for my whole life (or nearly my whole life), and those are the people I hold most dear. I really would do anything for her.
After I babysit, I'm going to hang with my girl Shutterbug (*smooch*). Girls night in. Then tomorrow I'm off for some more test driving & wheeling & dealing with these damn car dealers.
I love it when Chef goes with me. That internal calculator comes in handy. But I've been doing some homework, so I feel a bit more prepared. I may not be so quick to calculate, but I sure as hell know what I want and what is a good deal.
Tomorrow night is another concert with Rock Star Chef preparing dinner & a VIP party. We are going to have a fun night. Ozomatli with Kinky , and Plastilina Mosh. They are on the radio right now and in studio on www.kgsr.com (my fav. Austin station). Love them. Man, they are great.
Ok, work calls.
Peace, Periods, Pussy, Pomanders, Papayas, and Puritans for you all.
Main Entry: menˇstruˇaˇtion
Pronunciation: "men(t)-strü-'wA-sh&n, men-'strA-
Function: noun
: a discharging of blood, secretions, and tissue debris from the uterus that recurs in nonpregnant breeding-age primate females at approximately monthly intervals and that is considered to represent a readjustment of the uterus to the nonpregnant state following proliferative changes accompanying the preceding ovulation; also : PERIOD 6c
Yeah, that is directed at you. Stay out of my journal you lame asshole. or should I say assholes? Why don't you show your lame face & leave a comment instead of being so skeevy?
I'd link it, but I don't want the spies to infiltrate the masses. Let me know if you want the link & I'll email it to you.
supposed to cross out what doesn't belong to you.
JULY:
Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves to be alone. Always broods about the past and the old friends. Likes to be quiet. Homely person. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not aggressive unless provoked. Prone to having stomach and dieting problems. Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.
Fever. check.
Sinus infection. check.
Respiratory infection. check
stuck at work. check.
hating my life. check.
I think it's time for a vicodan.
In the big picture, my life isn't as bad as the majority of the world.
I must try to remember that.
Things can always be worse.
I'll stop piling shit on my head.
I miss my sister. Sis #2. Zoe misses her too. She cried so hard after school yesterday because she said she will never see Aunt Sis #2 again. It really hurt my heart.
21 days of period. Yay. Extra heavy now. Let's all pray that when I start my new pack of pills that this flow ENDS. DAMNIT.
I am falling apart. I don't have time to die.
Zoe woke up with an earache at 1am. Right about the time I was getting all snitty with Chef for waking me up when he came in and losing his phone (which was then found today).
I'm trying not to become a whiner about my ailments, but Jesus on a panty shield. When you have so many at one time, it starts to fuck with who you are.
I still have my period. Worse now. I am actually now on the week I was supposed to get it. Yay. I'm dehydrated and am going to hemmorage to death.
I don't have time to go to the following doctors:
Zoe's pediatrician, my obgyn, my surgeon for my back, my internal med doc, my dentist, Zoe's dentist, my optomitrist, my physical therapist.
And I miss going to the gym. I need to see if they can help me with excercise or something for my back. I still can barely sit.
Oh fuck it. I'm sure you all are sick of reading about this crap. It's all consuming and swallowing who I am.
I do want to be dead. I'm sorry. But that's just how I feel. I can't get ahead of my sleep. If it's not Chef waking me up, it's Zoe.
I am going to go hide now.
Cause I hate me as much as you do.
Sorry. Sad today. Tired.
What music do you play when you wish you were dead?
Because today I do. I seriously, really do. I'm beaten. I feel like giving it all up. I'm tired of working just to come home exhausted.
I'm tired of feeling like I can't enjoy my life because my back is too sore. Yeah still. It's still incredibly painful all the time. I miss being able to chase Zoe around and pick her up and carry her. I miss being able to clean my house and just do normal things without being reminded that I now have the back of a 92 year old.
I miss sex (due to the period from hell - and yeah, there are other things we could do, but I don't feel up to it). I miss feeling sexy. I feel beyond ugly and tired. I can't wear high heels or shake my ass or dance like a fool.
It's a bad day. A whiny tired exhausted day.
Not able to sleep.
I still have my period. What is that? Like 17 days now? It never pays to take shortcuts.
I'm exhausted and think that I'm a) anemic now from blood loss and b) dehydrated. I keep drinking water but it never feels like I can get enough.
I've got to get to a doctor. Actually like 3. My OBGYN, my orthopedic surgeon (may get injections of some sort), and my internist to take care of my diabetes. Except I have to try to do this on a non-work day. Impossible.
I'm tired of people saying I'm a horrible mean person. Maybe I am? I am sure of it. I feel evil somehow by this. Survey says ... yes, she must be. I feel it. I'm miserable and a toad.
I can't get the image of Zoe waving goodbye at me this morning. Calling out to me like four times. She never does that. Never. Maybe she senses my sadness. I know she does.
Mommy. Smiling. Bye Mommy. Blowing kisses. Eating her pancakes and drinking her milk. Byeeee Mommmmyyyyy. More kisses. She kissed me on the mouth and said it was a chocolate milk kiss. Byeeeee Mommmmyyyy. Even as I was walking out the door. Surreal like a movie. This beauty. This angel saying goodbye. Nothing else exists but her heart.
It feels the same way it did when I was having premonitions of my death a while ago. Then I almost got hit by that bus. Death. Dying. Like it truly is going to happen soon. I'm really sad today.
I seriously feel like I'm dying. I seriously wish I were dead.
I have enough meds prescribed to me to kill about 5 people. Were it not for that cute face, well today I would just about do it.
Because I'm just so fucking lame today. Glad some of you enjoy that. And fuck you for reading this. Fuck you. You have no business reading this. I hope something bad happens right back to you for enjoying my misery today. Because it will. I curse you, you fucking assholes.
I just want to go home, curl up in my bed with my Zoe Snuggle Puppy and sleep for a thousand hours.
I don't feel like writing anymore.
Surreal moment.
Dating a Rock Star Chef.
He's the backstage chef at a local concert hall. They get some pretty famous acts in there. That's where we saw Velvet Revolver.
But today, well today he's feeding Kenny Loggins. He's feeding him the "Deb's Barbeque Sandwich." Which is the most amazing barbeque I've ever eaten.
He said he fed him and then broke out into a song and dance thing singin' "Footloose." (hahahaha, just kiddin')
Poor baby is not feeling well. The three of us in our little family are kind of under the weather. I can't wait until the weekend so we all can get some rest.
I just finished reading a 280 page piece of shit document here at work. I'm half blind, delirious, and now high on vicodan.
They hired another girl, Keisha, to help edit documents. Thank the good Lord. I was mad that they wouldn't re-hire my best friend Lara, so I was wanting not to like her, but she's pretty damn funny. She could never replace my affection for L, but I'm glad she's got some spunk to her.
We have this co-worker that sits next to Keisha, and apparently she's been burping for days. Keisha is freaking out. She said she's fixin to go all ghetto on her because it's totally nasty and smells terrible.
Keisha said that Burpy warned her about me and what a beyotch I am on her first day here. She's told me all kinds of stuff that Burpy's said and we've been laughing my ass off and correcting Burpy's version of the "truth."
She even had the nerve to tell a fib about my Lara. That one was corrected immediately.
Burpy's gonna get it in the end.
Too bad we are all the ones that are gonna have to smell it though.
BURP!
ewwwwwwww
I love you Cheffy and Lara. You make my life so spiffy. Some of my favorite peeps.
P.S. It always makes me smile when my old school IRCers post in the comments. Hi to you all :)
P.S.S. Arghhhhhh, my ring is being held hostage. Dangit I am so wanting to wear it already. *sniff* ok, I'll attempt patience now. Nope. Didn't work.
There's nothing worse than reading back over old journal entries.
Except when that person is your younger sister.
I've always said that my journal is the only form of therapy that I have. The only way to get things that are stuck in my head out (which is why my old journal was titled Hostage in My Own Head - doh!) Usually I write things and that way I don't have to think about them again in the "real" world.
There's a very bad dynamic going on with my younger sister (Sis #2). I don't know why we end up fighting so much because I really do love her more than most people on this earth. I've known her for 35 years. That's a long fucking time.
I know in the past that I've written some not-so-nice things about her. I saw that she (or someone else) did a search on #2 to find all the entries about her. They weren't the nicest. Usually because they were posted during the time we had had some arguments. About stuff like the war and my ex and when she told my parents about me living with Chef.
So obviously the entries weren't going to be flattering.
But I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings, but then again, no one asked you to google then read my journal either. Unfortunately reading this journal is a bit akin to sitting in a therapy session between me and a doctor.
And I guess I've unfortunately not ever expressed here enough of the gratitude and love and admiration I have towards her. She's been here for me through thick and thin. And I don't know what's going on her life, but I know that she's got stress out the ass about something. Probably because she is always giving to so many people and taking care of and nurturing other people. (including quite often me and Zoe)
If anyone needs a spa day or a weekend off, it's Sis #2. I wish I had less going on in my life or more money because I'd do anything to give that chick a break.
I'm sad about this, but I don't think there's anything I can do or say to fix it. I would do anything for that girl, but I know she doesn't think that.
I'm done typing. I don't feel well. We are home sick today.
I called in sick yesterday and today.
I told them Zoe has an ear infection (which I thought she did because she was complaining about that this weekend). She does have major snotty nose and a bad cough.
But in all actuality, it is I that am falling apart. My back is really hurting. I babysat on Saturday and did too much kid picking-upping. The vicodan is not working either. I also have a cough from hell that is making my chest hurt. And finally (the reason I didn't want to give my boss) I have had my period for two weeks now.
Braniac I am not.
I thought I would be cool the week of my birthday and decided to "skip" my period as my OBGYN suggested that I do on occasion if I wanted.
The idea is to skip the inactive week of your birth control pills. To immediately start the new pack and *voila* no period. Which would have been kind of fun to do the week of my birthday party.
But instead I started spotting on July 20th and have done so every day since. What is that? Like 14 days? And it's a bit more than spotting. I phoned my doctor and they said that happens sometimes. Sheesh. This sucks ass. I'm scheduled for another period next week already.
Ok, I'm sure you didn't need to know this.
But it's gonna suck if I get fired for missing more work because I was too embarrassed to tell my boss I am practically falling apart (most likely due to loss of blood).
Now I've grossed myself out.
