The day the drinks didn't make me drunk

Sunday, I woke up angry.

At 2 in the afternoon I went to a friend's to hang out and vent.  Took a shot of vodka.  Dripping Springs it was good shit.  Orange juice chaser.  It took the edge right off.

6pm: Went to a friends pool party for his birthday.  Had three margaritas.  Not really even buzzed.  Though, quote of the pool party-
Me to my friend whose first language is not English: This margarita is making me feel all warm inside.
Friend: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
...A second of silence...
Friend: Or does that mean you're horny?
Me: No.  Not that inside.
Both crack up.

11:30pm  Took my mom to a drag show.  It was her mother's day gift. Had two gin and tonics.  It was a lot of fun. Before the show started we saw a man in ultra hipster attire do two back handsprings onto the dance floor to start dancing.  When the show started at 12:30 I was done drinking.  This queen did a number where she came out lip syncing to Mariah Carey's song "Hero".  In case you are like me, and haven't heard the song in almost 2 decades the important lyrics are "Then a hero comes a long with the strength to carry on... blah blah...When you feel like hope is gone look inside you and be strong. You will finally see the truth that a hero lies in you." This bitch sits down on the stage, pulls a gyro from Jimmy John's out of her bra and proceeds to eat it. Holy shit did I laugh. The dance floor is in the middle of the club and everybody stands around it to watch the show.  I could clearly see the people on the other side of the dance floor. People tip the performers.  So you see everyone holding out their dollar bills, trying to get the lady's attention.  On the last number this guy from the audience on the opposite side of the dance floor was trying to get the performer's attention.  He is waving around like a maniac so my eyes are drawn to him.  As I watch, he pulls his dick out of the bottom of his cut off jean shorts.  Whole head sticking out of them.  Waves the girl over, but she won't even get close.  He yells something and it's a damn shame I can't read lips.  She moved on quickly.  At about 1:30am we are driving home and my mom says they must have the smallest penises in the world to be able to wear a tiny g-string and dance around.  I replied that it was soft and probably stretched in between their legs and then taped.  She says, "Ok, let me think about that....(second of silence)... Ok I don't think I want to think about that right now." I laughed so hard I cried.  It was a good thing we were at a stop light. I would have had to pull the car over.

It was a good day.

Today, however, I was left with a headache that would not quit.  I could not seem to hydrate.  It's almost seven and I am only starting to feel better.  

Here is a fun story

My mom has a lot of memorabilia from my childhood.  I happen upon things now and then.  When I do, I usually tell her, "Hey, don't get rid of [that]".  

In my old room, there was a shelf on the wall.  On the shelf, was a collection of antique perfume bottles.  I collected them when I hung out at my great aunt's antique shop. Some she would give me, some I would pay for.  I loved them.  A fancy container for liquid that smells like flowers.  Weird. The ritual, the femininity, the uniqueness.   Fascinating.  The day after her funeral I told my mom, "You know you can never get rid of these, right?" She said that she knew.  

Two weeks later, I went into my old room and the shelf had fallen off the wall.  You can imagine what happened to the perfume bottles.  The shelf had been up for easy four years.  There was absolutely no reason for that shelf to fall.  They aren't all gone, just the few that were my favorite.  

It would almost be funny if it wasn't so cruel.  

Fun with conversations:

[My dad's girlfriend watching me put a barely adequate amount of mustard on a hot dog, which apparently seems like a lot to other people]
Girlfriend: Man, [laughing] has she always been like that?
My dad: Weird? Yeah.


That makes me laugh.

Sometimes I look at a boy and am boggled by the way I am so utterly attracted and disgusted at the same time. Those feelings in the same moment, brought about by the same person, it defies the laws of physics or something.  I'm convinced that men have no humanity.  It's my fault.  Honestly, I have some expectation that some man, somewhere in my life, will learn to observe a situation and then respond accordingly in a way that suits me.  Fuck, that suits anyone besides themselves.  Sure, men have said things I wanted to hear, when they want to get laid.  And then everything they ever said evaporates slowly like water from my glass on a hot summer day, and just when I really need a drink I look down and find it empty.  Totally fucking empty.  Like their heads.  Surely I will meet a man in my lifetime that doesn't consider me only a cum receptacle.  Or worse yet, some fucking puzzle to be pawed at and toyed with until he unlocks the treat in the center.  I am the source of my own unhappiness.  I should let go of these impossible ideas.  The idea that somewhere out there there is a man who understands something about women, it's silly.  I'm not asking for a miracle, just a person who is clued into a few things.  Maybe even listens to me when I talk.  I know I'm not the only one.  I see it all the time.  Men with the patience and maturity of a 7 year old pouting and stomping off when they aren't being paid enough attention, or their ego has been damaged in some other minute way.  Why are women always saddled with the reputation of being over reactors.  This all comes to me in a flash when I'm attracted to someone I don't know.  My little flicker of hope is blown out immediately by the tornado of last times.

Operation: Get Healthy

I know I have said that before, but I had a few set backs.

So, here I go again... on my own.  Going down the only road I've ever known?  Like  a drifter I was born to walk alone.  I'm getting off task.

I joined a gym.  10 dollars a month.  Totally affordable.  Of course, I didn't actually work out today.  I have bad cramps.  I'm not sure I can handle working out too.  Instead I went to the grocery store.  I need food in my house.  I need to eat vegetables.  I bought salad materials, and found a recipe for Mustard Vinaigrette.  Can't lie, kind of excited to try that.  I think it may change my life.

I WANT!

I want Nina Flowers and Raven to make a sandwich out of me.  I'll be their MEAT!!!

Raven

Nina Flowers

More conversations:

Kyle (in all seriousness): Do you know there are people in the world who actually care what people think of them?
Me (also serious): I! know! It is so! weird! I understand caring a little, but to actually rearrange your life is just unfathomable.  It seems like it would make your life so much harder."
Kyle: I know, and I don't really see how it could get much harder, add all that unnecessary anxiety.
Me: Crazy
Kyle: Yeah

Trannies and Vomit

I was having a RuPaul's Drag Race marathon last night.  (You can watch full episodes at logo.com) I love those queers.  Their crazy costumes kinda make me want to put on girl drag, you know, wear mascara.  In the middle of the marathon, Bucket comes running in with something that doesn't look like he should be eating. I made him spit it out.  I thought it was wood, but then I smelled it.  It smelled distinctly fungal.  About one episode later he was puking all over the house.  As I was cleaning one vomit up he would go somewhere else and vomit.  For such a little dog you would not believe the volume his stomach can hold. Then I called Am/Pm Animal hospital and the guy was a total fucktard.  I asked how much is too much vomiting.  He said, "Well, if he vomited more than once I would be concerned." Um, no.  I don't go to the emergency room when I vomit twice. That is absolutely ridiculous.  His tone said I was a terrible person.  Turns out, Bucket vomited everything out and then he was fine.  That is what vomiting is for, the body's eject button.   I called another animal hospital and they told me what to look for, cause for concern and when to bring him in.  I didn't have to and everything is fine.

This week I have been passing out between 5 and 6 in the afternoon.  I come to at dusk wondering if it is morning or evening.  For the rest of the night I'm disoriented and a bit out of it.  

I read a book.  I bought it on Tuesday.  It is called The Fuck-Up.  It spoke to me.  

Things that happen

In The Home Depot with Jessica and her one year old.  Jessica is checking out some plants. I'm chasing baby.  I am following her and I started singing the song on the pa system.  Right as I sing, "Show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream she said." A raging hipster walks by me, gives me the look, and he says with one eyebrow up, "That's a good song".  Smirk and a head shake, two bits.

Officially :

Going to San Francisco on MY BIRTHDAY, fools!  

What! What!

Photoshop

I watched this video on some blog.  I realize that altering every single photo is an unfair advantage to celebrities.  It may even effect some people's ideal of beauty and how they look at themselves.  But maybe those people need to take a deep breath and live in the real world and not in a magazine.  I'm  thin.  I'm not perfect.  I have cellulite.  But you know what, never once has a man, or woman, said to me, "You know you should really do something about this."  In real life, people are happy to get laid.  In real life, people aren't as shallow as you think they are.  Can we all just get over it and start living?  If a person is attracted to your body type with your clothes on, chances are they won't be surprised when he or she gets them off.  Let's not think too much about it.  Let's just fuck and be happy.

PMS test

How do you know if you have PMS?

When someone takes the parking spot you wanted and you immediately fantasize about going up to them and asking, "You won't be stealing too many parking spots with four flat tires, will you?"

When you look in the fridge and see the bottle of worcestershire sauce and want to drink it.


Yeah.  It's ugly.  Thank god for my incredible will power.

Good god

What will I do next?

I'm going to try to sleep some sense into me.  Hasn't worked yet, but you never know.

Considering :

The possibility of going to San Francisco on gay pride weekend, also known as My Birthday weekend!

Conversations from real life....

My mother: What chance does [Lauren] have in relationships? She has me as a mother and her dad as a father.

Me: I'm going on a pms diet.
Kyle: Oh, yeah? What does that entail?
Lauren: Fruits, vegetables, no animal fats, blah, blah, blah.
Kyle: What about hotdogs!?
Lauren: [shakes head while frowning]
Kyle: [astonished look] Somebody is just going to have to pay the price.  You are just going to have to be mean.  You can't give up Hotdogs!

Drum Roll Please...

And Bucket has mange.  (Don't worry your little pug, she wouldn't get it unless she had a compromised immune system.) Since he is a puppy and recently went through surgery stress the little fucking bastard mites got there hooks in.

I guess it could be worse.  It could itch.  Then again, it could not go away and be an ongoing thing.  So I won't count my chickens.

Just for a little salt in my wound, I found out today that a TOTAL fuck up, an absolutely, unquestionably terrible person is working in a drug rehab center in Hawaii.  Shit never sticks to him and his life just keeps getting better.  He must have been a saint in another life.  I, on the other hand, look up just in time to get shit in my eye.

The love of my life

Brian Kinney is the the love of my life.  He is beautiful and rich and expects nothing. We have a few obstacles to overcome.  The first is that he is an extremely promiscuous homosexual, which I could totally deal with.  The other is that he is fictional. That one is a little harder to overcome.  I will settle for Gale Harold.  If I can't have the real Brian Kinney, I'll settle for his body. 

  


Here are some of my favorite Brian Kinney-isms: 




"I don't want to be with someone who sacrificed their life and called it love... to be with me. "


Melanie (lesbian): You finally grew a heart.
Brian: Maybe you'll have the same luck growing a penis. 


[about their first night at Babylon, so many years ago]
Brian: I thought I looked pretty hot.
Michael: You did look pretty hot... That night I jerked off thinking about you.
Brian: Well, whaddya know. I jerked off thinking about me, too. 


"Whether we see each other next week, next month, never again, it doesn't matter. It's only time."


As you can see from this next quote, we have A LOT in common.  


Detective Carl Horvath: You were right.
Brian Kinney: My three favourite words after 'nine inches cut'. 


And this one too for that matter. 


Brian Kinney: I don't believe in love; I believe in fucking. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure and minimum of bullshit. Love is something straight people tell themselves they're in so they can get laid, and then they end up hurting each other because it was all based on lies to begin with. 

It's like that show on MTV only the opposite

Worst Week Ever.  I have been thinking really hard about it. This may have been the actual worst week of my life.  So far.  Which is terrifying.  So Far.  The idea that out there in my future is a worse week.  I have no doubt it is out there waiting.  I just kept getting kicked when I was down.  If I didn't know better I would swear I have internal bleeding and bruised organs. I have gone two days without vomiting, but as I sit here alone I'm starting to feel nauseous again.  I need to cry, but nothing is making it happen.  My hands are shaking.  I guess now it is just a waiting game, what will happen first tears or puke.

Is there some kind of cosmic misalignment? I need to do some research.  I need an answer to the question, "Why am I at the bottom of the hill, and where the fuck is all this shit coming from?"

When I was a kid I would go with my dad and his friends to this restaurant.  It was owned by a husband and wife duo. She ran everything and she would hostess and he cooked.  Everybody knew them, talked to them.  I ended up living about two blocks from that place for a really long time.  They had sold that restaurant, but opened another in the same shopping center.  She drove a yellow Mustang so there was no mistaking if she was there or not.  As it happened they lived in Kyle's delivery area so he got to know them too.  Through the years I heard different things about them, saw them occasionally, ate at their new restaurant.  Just last week, on a date I was talking about them because this boys sister works at the first  restaurant they opened then sold.  They have always been in the peripheral of my life, for over 15 years, in a lot of little "wow, isn't it a small world" scenarios.  Today they were both found dead in their home, of an apparent murder/suicide.

Fair warning, if anybody needs to prefaces anything they tell me with "I have some bad news..." I'm just going to walk out into traffic.

When all else fails

Vomit.  I'm not sure if yesterday was a psychosomatic sickness, or I ate something, but I started puking at 9am and every hour subsequently.  The longest span of time I went without vomiting was when I was crying uncontrollably.  I was watching Julie&Julia.  I didn't even know what was happening.  I would just look at the screen and start bawling.  I missed the funeral.  I'm heartbroken.  But it was an controllable vomit that made me break out in a sweat.  The kind of prickly heat that means you are about to pass out.  I never did, thankfully, but I couldn't attempt to drive and puke.

I'm just so god damn sick of everything.  I could scream.

It doesn't show signs of stopping

Today they remove life support from great aunt.  She got pneumonia and went into the hospital the day of my grandfather's funeral.  I found out this tidbit from my cousin's facebook post.  I have no idea how she is doing.  I don't want to go to the hospital, because I saw her last on the last day I saw my grandfather.  She was telling me stories about when she was a kid, and her grandson, and her granddogs, and laughing,  and smiling, and going to stay with my aunt so that she could help her force my grandfather into taking his pain pills and eating.  I want that to be the way I remember her.  My dad and I lived with his aunt and uncle when I was growing up.  I was eleven.  During the summer she would take me to her antique shop in a little town. I ran around like it was the fifties.  I would take some change to the gas station and buy candy.  Walk across town to the burger joint.  It was a lot of fun.  I wish I could go back there.  I went to her fiftieth anniversary this summer.

Kyle told me this week that his dad's lymphoma is back.

I'm having a hard time coping.

It's official

I'm on a diet.  I big suck ass diet, that consists of food with vitamins.

Last good meal, Nathan's hot dog at Black Sheep Lodge.

First good for me meal, turkey breast fillet and green beans.  For desert, angel food cake with homemade blueberry sauce- no added sugar.   Survey says, it's really good.  The trick to poultry is to not overcook it.  If I closed my eyes I would think it was pork chop, which is not on my diet.

Let's disguss

I'm going on a date with a boy on Wednesday.  He is an electrician.  We have been on one date.  I was set up by a friend.  I just got the number of another boy who happens to be a carpenter. Again set up by a friend.  If you know a hot plumber send him my way, the four of us could build a house.  Here's thinking, maybe I should become a contractor.  I seem to be meeting all the right people.  Anybody know any sinewy HVAC men.  Come on down.

Here's the kicker, I haven't decided yet whose eyes are prettier, the carpenter's or the electrician's.  It's a very close call.

I keep you updated.

What's better than a drag show?

I drag show for charity.  It was most amusing.  I learned some things.  Like, who knew there was a gay sports bar.  Sports? Really? I can kind of see it.  Giant, bulky muscled men in tight pants.  Most sports have tight pants.  The only sports on the TV in the gay bar were nascar and basketball.  Those are some of the only sports where they don't wear tight pants. The clientele were decidedly butch.   I went with a friend who knew one of the queens performing.  She was a hefty gal.  Real sweet. Her act needed a little bit of work.  She was having some wardrobe issues.  But all in all, it was a really good time.

My Living Will

I realize that in no way is this legal.  I just want a record of what I want that isn't hidden somewhere that is found too late if, god forbid, something were to happen to me.  I don't want anything to happen to me, but sometimes it is best to plan for the worst.  Plus, I really care about this stuff.  So listen up.

• I do NOT want to be kept alive artificially longer than a period of possible recovery.  Pull the plug, put  a pillow over my face, I don't care.  Just don't keep me alive like that.  
• I do NOT want to be embalmed.  
• I would like to be cremated.  Then put in an Eternal Reef.  Buy me the biggest reef I can afford. Put Grubb's ashes in the reef with me, along with any other dogs that have passed.  Put on the plaque "'...the sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonders forever.' -Jacques-Yves Cousteau. Still it holds (My First, Middle, and Last name).  She was loved. " 

As for my belongings:

• My most prized possession goes to Jessica, I know she will take good care of Bucket.  Ideally, Bucket will be long dead by the time I die, but the point of this is you never know. 
• To Corley- All my memories.
• Casey can have my computer and my camera.  
• My friends can have anything they want.  Tammy gets the rest and my money, unless her house is payed off, then split it between my poor friends.  

As for a memorial service:

• I want everyone to tell funny stories about me.  They have to be funny.  No sad shit.  I know nobody can tell a funny story like me, but you will have to try. 
• I want it to be recorded so in case anyone wants to hear the stories later they can.  Just audio is fine.  I don't want a video of people crying. 
• I do NOT want it to be in a church. A park or somewhere outdoors would be ideal, but the weather will dictate that.  I would rather not have it in a funeral home, but I'm not firm on that.
• I do NOT want any Bible verses to be read! Plenty of people have written prettier words.  If something has to be read, choose something I have read and enjoyed.  There is plenty of that too.
• I want Big photos of all my pets. 
• No Flowers! If people want to spend money they can give to French or English Bulldog Rescue.  
• As for the Playlist here are some songs I want played in no specific order:
• Old Before Your Time- Ray LaMontagne
• Roadhouse Girl- Ray LaMontagne
• Long as I can See the Light- CCR
• Midnight Special- CCR
• Good Times- Sam Cooke
• Cool Jerk- The Capitols
• Try Me- James Brown
• Close Your Eyes- Peaches and Herb
• That's How Strong My Love Is- Otis Redding
• Open the Door to Your Heart- Darrell Banks 
• Stand By Me- Ben E. King
• If You Need Me- Solomon Burke
• Turn On Your Love Light- Bobby Bland
• Patches- Clarence Carter
• Just for You- Sam Cooke
• Southern Cross- Crosby Stills and Nash
• Other than that, play what reminds you of me.  I only ask that whatever it is, it better have soul.  

If any of my requests are not met NOBODY GETS ANYTHING!  !!!  AND I WILL HAUNT YOU!!!

Bucket will go to a French Bulldog rescue.  

My computer and camera will go to Out Youth Austin.

All of my money will be split part ways between Out Youth, French Bulldog Rescue, and English Bulldog Rescue.  

I do this because, if nothing else, I know Jessica will fight for Bucket and let everybody know what is what! 

I will hand write this soon and have it signed by two witnesses so that it is legal. 

What a night

At my father's, father's funeral all of my father's exes were in attendance.  His first wife (my brother's mother), his second wife (I call her Tammy), his third wife missed the party, but in her stead was a roommate/girlfriend of my dad's from when I was a kid, his forth wife, and the new girlfriend.

You do not know uncomfortable.  I was sitting at the dad bashing table.  Long story short I had to double fist.  I was really doing good with my two drink limit, but sometimes there is nothing that takes the edge off except one too many beers.  Consequently, I feel like shit today.  Sometimes there is nothing that fixes one too many beers like a cheeseburger and fries and 10 am.

Told you.  If I don't have my dad's smile then you are blind.  Secondly, he was probably 26 in this photo.  We almost have the same haircut.  Funny.

I have a date.  With a boy.  And I'm oddly kind of excited.  I didn't think I would know what it felt like, excitement. I have absolutely no expectations that it will go well, because let's face it, my luck is pretty thin these days.  Since it hasn't been a complete disaster yet, I get to fantasize about all manner of things.  It takes my mind off of ... things I don't want to think about and I have something to look forward to in order to get me through this weekend.

Remember this ...

A few months back I wrote about how I look good after a quick spit shine.  Here is the proof.  

When I look at this picture all I see is my dad's smile.  That big toothy goofy smile.  

Can we talk about my butt in this dress.  I so rarely see my butt from this angle.  It's awesome.  Who knew.

It's so damn cold.

I have to be at the neuter clinic before 8 am.  Did it have to get freezing cold the one day I really really want to sleep in and stay under the covers.  Damn you, February.  This is two years in a row you mightily pissed me off.  You are dead to me.

I have lived with a lot of men in the span of my life.  I would say a conservative estimate is 10, a more accurate estimate is 15, but I'll say 10 to account for memory.  It never ceases to amaze  that all these men save one, I single him out because though I know he will not read this because he is dead I do know he would be offended, being the tidy and fastidious man that he was if he thought I thought of him this way, think that there is a magical place, a black hole of sorts where if a person drops something it disappears forever.  I call that place the floor.  It isn't magical at all.  What they drop remains, I have seen it with my own eyes.

I don't write this to claim tidiness, I didn't acquire that skill from the man I spoke of before.  However, I do like to think that I did learn and acquire his fastidiousness.  Though there is tons of shit laying around on the floor of my abode, with each item I give concerned thought to how it will effect the beautiful little blond creature that lives so near the floor, puts everything in his mouth, and goes by Bucket.

There is a collection of symptoms that some people get when there brain has been damaged in a specific area by a lesion from one thing or another.  When they look at their loved ones they believe them to be impostors or a person identical to the people they love but a stranger.  They think this because they don't feel any of the things that a person is supposed to feel when you look at your loved ones, such as love and a connection of some sort.  The part of the brain that joined the feelings with the image is gone.  I feel this way when I'm with my family, like I'm around a bunch of strangers at a party.  I know one or two people and that is it.  It is very uncomfortable.

I have been having a lot of tumultuous feelings with the death of my grandfather.  The trouble is I don't know how to feel.  I'm dealing with it by not thinking about it.  I don't have to feel anything when I don't think about it.  Since I didn't know him, I don't have any triggers that make me think about it.  When the wound isn't so fresh I can revisit, but until then I'm coping by turning my head and not looking at the blood.

The only good thing

I got to hear a lot of stories today.  Not necessarily about my grandfather, but about a ton of stuff that I had never heard.  Turns out my brothers know a lot more about our family than I do. There was a brief moment when we talked about my brother's in-laws and how normal they were.  He told us about there one little blimp in the mild soup.  Mild cheating in a relationship, to which I replied, "If you can't start a story with I'll never forget that night daddy was gonna kill that judge...." you're in pretty good shape.  For the record I heard that today, in regards to the sleeping, doped up man dying in the other room.  There the story petered out, I thought it poor form to then yell out, "Wait! Go back to the killing the judge thing!"

I feel like my life is changing, but it just can't get there. Like I just bowled a strike, if only that last pin would fall.  That last pin is 60 feet away and wobbling. I want to throw a 6 pound kids ball over hand at it, but that is against the rules and the management would likely throw me out.  For all I know, this was my first time up to the lane and most of my strikes are ahead of me, so all I can do is stand back and watch it wobble. It never falls.

I was really hoping that 2011 would be the year of no deaths.  My grandfather will be dead in less than six months.  Probably a lot less.  I don't even know how to feel.  My dad didn't even tell me. I found out from my brother. It is like I share my name with a bunch of strangers.  Shit, I have known strangers better.  I don't have a memory of ever spending any time alone with my grandfather.  Not one.  In the past 10 years the handful of times I have seen him I feel like he doesn't know my name.  He must.  It is silly to think that he didn't hear it a thousand times right after I was born.  Sadly, that is the only time I can think of that he would have definitely heard it.  I'm sure my mom said it over and over. I have shared my name with this man for almost 28 years and I couldn't fill of a lined piece of notebook paper with the things I know about him.  What little I do know about him I know second hand.  I would say it isn't right, but the only right I know is a direction.  There is no time to fix it. The cancer has arrived. Hospice has arrived. What does it matter if he knows my name?  Soon he'll be ash. Erased from the page. The only thing that will be left are little grey remnants waiting to be swept away carelessly with the back of a hand.  What will it matter then?

I had a dream

I was on a barge or some other kind of big ass boat.  We were honking the horn an waiving for something to get out of our way.

I woke up to the train horn that alerts every 30 minutes when a train goes by.  Damn trains.

Reading

I was in Half Price Books with Corley last week and I couldn't remember the last book I read.  I was thinking that it was on the plane coming back from Korea.  That was almost a year ago.  Naturally, I was a little disgusted with myself.  How could I forget that I read books this summer. I would read on my lunch break when I was working at the pawn shop.  My coworkers looked at me like I was going to stick hot spoons up my ass when I told them I was going to read. It hasn't been a year, but I have hit a dry spell.  Nothing sounds good.  I want something light, funny, nothing too deep.  I want to relax.  All the books I have to read are nothing like that.

Walking through the grocery store I had the scarecrow's song in my head.  If I only had a brain.

I have been sick for a week now.  Big giant green snots.  Nasty.  This morning I was trying to cough that green snot up.  Slight problem, it wouldn't come out of my throat.  Snot was hanging out of my mouth and still stuck in my throat.  I have experienced fewer things that are grosser.

This year I have decided that I will just get high every day, work at DairyQueen, and wait to die.  Just give up. I can't decide if that is what other people are doing or they are actually happy with the grind.  Maybe I'm just missing that thing that can make me happy, maybe nobody is happy.  Maybe it is a secret I just can't figure out.

Sometimes I daydream of me and Bucket sleeping in a hammock, or something that looks like a nest only instead of sticks there are pillows, on a porch in the tropics.  Besides sleeping, we walk in the rainforest and take pictures.

My plans for New Year's Day

Eat steak, and black eyed peas, and cabbage, and grapes.  Plus, I'm going to do everything on this list, because you can never be too careful (except look out the window in the morning). Them I'm going to drain a bottle of champagne and smoke and watch something funny so I can laugh.  This last year had entirely too little laughter.  I'll invoke whatever superstition I have to in order to bring lots more laughter back into my life.

New Years Resolutions:

Eat food with vitamins.  Not all the time or anything.  Just most of the time.
Get a job.  One that doesn't make me want to kill myself. That doesn't sound like a tall order, but it is.
Stop hating life.  Scratch that.  Start loving life.
Start making stained glass.
Feel better.  How? I don't fucking know.  I live on a dead end street.  Figuratively and literally.
Someone told me the other day that I wasn't a very forgiving person.  Maybe I will work on that.  Who am I kidding.  This list is getting way too long for one year.
Maybe I'll take a vacation this year.  By myself.  Yeah, alone, that sounds magical.

The easy things on the list:
Floss more.
Wear sunscreen more.
Wear lotion more.

What I got for Christmas:

A second degree burn and cramps!

Merry Fucking Christmas!

The Home Depot

Met a bulldog lover in The Home Depot today.  She stopped and talked to Bucket.  She told me about how she makes her own food and her dogs get to eat a lot and still stay skinny.  I like this idea.  Bucket is always hungry.  I feel terrible about it.  She showed me pictures of her English puppies.  Love those bulldog lovers, they will talk your ear off.

Tired

For real.

Bucket reminds me of a black man

I know.  It's weird.  It has something to do with his eyes. His eyes remind me of this guys.  

Funk

And not the good kind of funk that I like.  Sometimes I just think I'm going through a bad luck streak where nothing good will happen.  I mean small good things happen.  I have good days. I laugh.  I have friends.  I really thought Bucket was going to break the streak.  Now, I have an irrational fear that Bucket is good and bad things will happen to him until he's gone.  I have to not think about it or I freak out a little.

I need some good things.

I need a box down there that says "Downer".

8 am is so much more palatable when you aren't waken up repeatedly in the night.

White Elephant

This white elephant thing has put a serious wrench in my cogs.  What the hell can I bring?

New Blog

For all my crafty endeavors.

Bitch be Crafty 

Late bloomer

I totally could have posted pictures already of the blanket I made. However, I totally forgot. Big surprise. Here they are.

P.S.

Didn't finish the bear today. Why? Didn't work on it at all and now I'm fucking tired. I got to put a face on that little motherfucker tomorrow. Tomorrow.

In case you missed the last post, my workspace is the floor. Now, we do have carpet. We were short changed on the padding though. No carpet pad. Concrete and the cheapest carpet they have at thehomedepot. My ass is hurting. My legs hurt in weird ways. But for some reason this works for me and I'm comfortable in this little place. So instead of getting a pillow, an anything to cushion me, I keep sitting on the floor. Fail.

Done

I finished knitting my first stuffed animal last night. Why in the hell did I ever think that would be difficult? One day project for real! Well, I need to stuff the bear and add the face, but come on, that won't take all day. Easy. Easy. Easy. I'm not gonna lie, it was giving me some anxiety. I should have looked over the pattern more closely. I thought there was going to be some trick stitches involved.

Here it is. Knitting. Notice my workspace. One person's chair is another person's table.

Dear Saturday,

Remember when we had a standing date for fun? Remember all that blissful intoxication, tons of laughter and the rest of it?

What happened?

Second (or however many) Opinion

I am planning on making some thing high leg warmers. I love them. I have for years (Notice I put this crappy scan on flickr in 2006). Now I have the skills to pay the bills, and I am finally going to make them for myself.

Here is where you come in. Which color?

The beginning

NaCraBloMo

I'm crafting and blogging because Jessica said so. Why wouldn't I? I have almost totally accomplished writing my first knitting pattern. What! What! You know it. I have a little more to do, but I don't have the supplies. Then I will execute the pattern and see if my math is really really stupid or I did it right. Then I will go on to conquer the world.

Plus, by Friday evening I should be able to post blow you away pictures of my masterpiece.

P.S. I like NaCraBloMo better because "BloMo" sounds like "blow me". Or even "No Crying, Blow Me" When is that month?

The last day

I'm sick.

My car needs to be fixed.

I finished Corley and Casey's present for their wedding.

Obviously, pictures to follow once they have received gift.

I promised pictures of my plants. Here they are. Succulents.

That's all I got. See ya later assholes.

Oh wait, Treme- so so. Second season could be better. It got better towards the end. It's no The Wire. Yet.

I get so tired of life

Every little thing is a struggle. Why can't things be easy all the time with an occasional struggle instead of the other way around?

Well, there are a few things in my life that I have no problems with:

Loving Bucket, even when he is a wild asshole.

Loving my friends.

Tending to my plants.

I was going to say making things, but i don't want to go overboard. But on the whole it tends to lean to the easy side more than the struggle.

There are only two days left

but I just want to say fuck it, and quit.

Dear god, people, there are only two days until DECEMBER. The year is over. Christmas. Fuck. Ugh. I'm not ready. Let's rewind to Halloween.

Once upon a time

there was a girl, a beautiful girl. When this girl got mad she had to try very hard to not say things that would forever banish people from her kingdom.

Hopefully cooling off will help.

To be continued...

Ugh, is November over yet.

I should have known that making Lauren cake, also known as Sheet cake or Sheath Cake, would have made me eat it for breakfast and dinner. I do have other leftovers so I'm sure I won't eat it exclusively.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Life is making it difficult to be thankful since I have hideous cramps. As per usual, mud butt is coupled with my craps. Particularly fun on Thanksgiving. A lot of food I don't usually eat scurrying out in quite a hurry. I wish I could go into a medicine induced coma for three days of every month.

I'm going to watch "Treme" until I pass out.

I am so dumb, for real.

First thing, I have a super sense of smell. I don't remember having this super power all my life. I think this is a recent development. I also think that it fluctuates with my hormones. I joked that as my hearing is going bad my sense of smell is taking up the slack. Casey said soon I would smell his voice.

That being what it is, my bathroom smells like piss to me all the time.

I knew that vinegar alone can significantly rid the carpet of dog urine smell. And for whatever reason I didn't try it in my toilet. What the fuck is wrong with me. I just now put that together. Guess what? It worked. Months. It took me months. I am so dumb. I am so dumb, for real.

I wasn't sure if I blogged today. So I looked at my blog to see when the last time I blogged was. Then, I realized that I don't fucking know what today is, so that really doesn't do any good.

That's all I got in me today. Will return tomorrow.

I'm traumatized from saving Bucket's head from the fence and hearing the noises that he was making. He is perfectly fine, but it takes a while for those chemicals to go away. I ran. No joke. My hands were shaking afterward. Then, just to get all the shitty things over at once, I gave him a bath and cut his nails.

Now, I'm so exhausted from the come down I feel like going to bed at 8:30.

My car may be fixed. It is a possibility that the connections to my battery were just really loose. Whatever it is, it isn't my alternator. Thank you car gods.

Recommendations

I have had this picture on my desktop for months. This is a Netflix suggestion. See what you think.

I don't want to be awake anymore

I thought for sure this damn dog would sleep last night. He played all day. He barely napped. Big HUGE negative. The biggest. This was the worst sleep night ever.

I have to take a nap today. He was sleeping all day and sleeping a lot better at night. His growth spurt must have slowed down a little.

My car battery or alternator or something is bad. My car broke down at a red light. Everything totally sucks when you're tired. The car thing isn't that bad. It could be a lot worse, but just thinking about it wears me out. I'm just going to become a hermit, a recluse, or whatever you want to call a person who never leaves the house and is cranky all the time. I could go into the culdesac and be mean to high school kids. I could get about 10 more dogs and be the crazy dog lady.

I just remembered a dream I had last night. Sluggs had heartworms and was going to die. It was terrible.

Done with the non-sequetors this morning. I'm going to attempt to get this dog to sleep some more.

The wedding

Put a little spit shine on me and I will turn all sorts of heads. I forget that all the time.

Bridesmaid

I have a wedding today. Hopefully I will have lots of fun pictures of the peacock preserve where the wedding is. Hopefully the sun will come out so I don't freeze to death. I'm having my makeup done professionally. For free. I don't want anybody to think that I would pay for something like that.

Today:

• I found a bunch of old pictures on a random dvd. It was good, pictures of Grubb and Sluggs from 2 years ago.
• I rearranged the living room. I moved a crappy book shelf from the bedroom into the living room. Turned it backwards and on its side underneath the window and put my inside plants on it. Then I glued paper to the back so you can't see the particle board. Pictures to follow, when the light is better.
• I will be going to see Louis C.K. later this evening. I'm pretty excited about it.
• Now, I must shower.

Holy Crap

It's freezing. If MP hadn't told me that there was freeze warning last night I probably would have had a lot of dead plants on my hands. I'm officially tired of winter.

I finished all of The Wire last night. I'm sad. I hate the search for something new to watch while I knit.

forgetting

I think I may be harboring secret resentment of a whole lot of things that I just don't know about. I think my short term memory is so bad that these feeling are going on and then all of a sudden I remember what for when the long term memory kicks in. Is that possible? Here's why I think that, last night I thought of some stupid shit that happened over a year ago, then I thought, shit that still stings. I hadn't thought about it since it happened but maybe I'm reacting to it without knowing. Eh. Who knows? I'm probably just a bitch.

Papoose-y

I have cried since I got Bucket just thinking about Grubb at this age. Sometimes I think how pissed off he would be at me for getting a puppy. He hated puppies. A puppy would walk up to him, he would walk away, every time. He never gave in. Kyle used to make fun of me that I needed a papoose for Grubb. I would get all excited and say if Grubb would let me do that I would be all over that shit. Bucket lets me. It is like my dream come true. For real.

I feel good again. Not all the time, let's not go overboard, but I feel good sometimes. Last night I couldn't sleep. Who knows why, but as I lay there wired as all hell (oh, I just realized I drank a Dublin Dr. Pepper right before bed, duh) I felt good. Of course, the shit eater went to bed at 11 and slept all night, until 7 in the morning (thank you, pug!). I could have gotten a full 8 and I wasted and hour and half laying there not miserable. I guess it wasn't that big of a waste.

Um....

Where are all my peeps at? I don't mean those sugar covered sugar balls at Easter either. I believe there were a handful of assholes that said they were going to be posting interesting things everyday. Fail.

I think I forgot to brush me teeth today. Epic Fail.

One more thing

About The Wire. Since we both know that is all I do all day. Season 4 is rounding to a close today. I swear to god I am thinking in gangster talk. I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming in Ebonics. You know it be, popped into my head. Of course it didn't actually come out, because as soon as I thought it, right behind that was, What the fuck. I'm sure in my subconscious there are tons of Laurens in their "Tupac hats" and wife beaters grabbing their crotches and telling mother fuckers to step off.

The problem with Season 4 is that they are focusing on a middle school. So it is breaking my heart. I actually cried. The fucked up thing is, when I know something really bad is happening to a kid I don't cry, but when a person helps that kid I cry. That is so backwards. Every episode I keep thinking that one of the kids is going to get killed. I don't want it to happen. I don't want Omar to get killed. I feel both are coming. Then again, I have had the feeling that Bubbles was going to die in the first season and here he is in season 4. My instincts are all wrong with this show. They throw me for a loop. Awesome.

I love Omar

Omar is a character from The Wire. He steals from drug dealers. Nobody's stash is safe. He uses a shotgun for these "capers" and whistles "The Farmer and the Dell" when he is coming. Every time he walks down the street, be it in his black duster or his teal silk jammies, people start yelling, "Omar's coming" and then they scatter like roaches. He is a bad mother fucker. Yet, he cries when thinking about the old days, and how the game has changed. He has a number of bodies on him, including one of the hardest cats in town. And the kicker... He is out and proud. Love. Love. Love It.

Went to a Party

I got home feeling really bad. I was on the verge of vomiting. Now, when I was drinking this would have been perfectly normal. Since, I'm sober now, there was really no call for it. I thought I would remedy the situation with sleep. At 8 when the cream puff woke up I felt okay. Then I went to hang out in the living room and sneezed a sneeze that made me gag. There was no going back after that. I vomited stuffing. For some reason it tasted like bacon flavor.

I think I will have to stop going to parties in order to cure my hangovers.

Missed

So I missed a day. Fuck it.

When I was a kid, whenever I would go anywhere with my mom or my dad we would always, always run into people they knew. I always thought it was so weird. Plus, we would have to stop and talk and it was really boring. I have turned into that person. Austin is such a small town. At the C & C Bachelor/ette Party, at a bowling alley, I ran into a guy that I went to elementary school with. That is big shit. I went to a tiny private school. He was one of the 4 people in my 5th grade class. At the Ray LaMontagne concert last night I was sitting next to a woman I went to high school with. I didn't know her name only that she looked familiar. Since we were the only people on the second balcony and sitting right next to one another we started talking. I said the usual, "I know you." She said, "I thought you looked familiar, but I figure you would think I was crazy." She graduated in my class. Not as big a shit because there we a lot more people than 4 who graduated from my high school. Though, there were a lot of people at the show and what are the chances that she would sit next to me in the second balcony.

Ray LaMontagne was fucking phenomenal. I wanted it to last SO much longer. He could have easily done a two and half hour show. There was an opening act, The Secret Sisters, who were good. They played for 20 minutes, then there was a 30 minute break. There was NO stage set up. I could have used 30 more minutes of Ray. After him there was another 30 minute break. Um, more Ray. There were horns. At one point there were at least 15 people on stage in the band. Plus, he plays the harmonica. Mighty fine, I might add. Easily the best performance I have ever seen.

So addicted to The Wire. Trying to peel myself away from the computer. Just not happening. Have to get back to the last episode of season 2.

I have nothing to say. I'll try again later.

Crap

My back hurts! Shooting pain out of no where while I was stretching. Blows. I'm attempting to stretch it out. First I will load up on ibuprofen and tea. The tea isn't helping with my back, I'm just thirsty.

Bucket is growing at a break neck pace. The vet did say he was about one meal away from weighing 16 pounds, when he weighed 6. It is true. He has gotten so much bigger. He feels different when I pick him up. He has so much more energy, more than last week, certainly more than Grubb when he was a puppy. I'm going to start giving him benadryl so I can get some rest. Kidding.

Flickr

I'm so happy to have a camera back. I'm all up in flickr's shit. Just in case you forgot, I'm a crafty bitch (with a puppy).

New topic: I'm coming up on completion of a pretty amazing present I have constructed by hand for Corley and Casey's wedding. Yeah, yeah I realize that there wedding was a month ago. Well worth the wait. I can't wait until they get it so I can post pictures. That totally came around to my other topic. Good job, Lauren.

Remembering

I need something to help me remember things. I wish I could get a pop up on my eyeball that only I could see that reminded me of things I have planned. For instance, I am so afraid I am going to forget that Friday I see Ray LaMontagne. This weekend and next I have plans for Friday and Saturday. It is nerve racking. I keep looking at the calendar. I'm checking to see what day it is. That's right. I never know what day it is. Sometimes I have to check more than once a day. It feels like somebody tipped time and I'm sliding downhill through days faster than usual. You may think I'm overreacting, but Halloween weekend I forgot to volunteer. Five hours past when I should have gone in I finally realized it. It totally slipped my mind.

I thought I had slept until 10 today

I hate time change. As if I'm not miserable enough. Now time has to turn around and get all different. Bitch. I'm ready for lunch.

5 Hours

The countdown to sleeping all night begins.

To be a new mother:

Let's talk about my diet. Now, this isn't strictly new motherhood for me, but Sheath cake for breakfast and dinner is a little ridiculous.

I got TWO FOUR hour stints of sleep last night. It makes me feel so much better than the four two hour naps I had been getting.

I can't wait for Bucket to be a real dog, instead of this pissing and shitting nightmare that wants to ruin all my things. It won't be long now. He is whip smart and almost has the sit command down.

I bought him a chew toy from my neighborhood pet store. It is called a "bully stick". It is cow penis. I could actually get stuff done. When I left the room and came back there was no question in my mind what he would be doing. Of course, the moistened bull dick smells like a foot died and now the sour, rotting thing is being chewed on to release more of the smell. It can smell up a room. Gross. He loves it. He has a vet appointment today, but when we get back we will see how he likes pig snout.

I never thought I would say this, but I am enjoying the hell out of this cold weather. Bucket gets under the covers with me and snuggles. I love it.

It was bound to happen

I woke up this morning to Bucket walking towards me. He made it almost to my face, which seemed to be his final destination. When I realized something was funny about that, it dawned on me that he probably peed somewhere. I did some investigative work. My great fear was that it was on the bed. It is good for me that Bucket is such a good dog, because sleep deprived detective work is really shitty. I found the pee spot. He made it to the bedroom door. I was so proud. Granted, if he would have gone another foot he would have not been on carpet, but it was about as far from the bed as possible. Score one for Bucket.

I hope y'all are prepared for picture weekend!!!! Bucket pictures will abound!

It's weird

Sometimes I think of what I was doing last year at this time. It's weird. A little more than 365 days ago I was in a dark, hookah bar in Korea. Had someone told me five years ago that I would have this photo opportunity I would have not believed it. I might have even called that person crazy.

Shampoo

I'm never using shampoo again. Yeah. I said it. I love not washing my hair. There are days when it looks like I need to wash my hair, but hell, what do I care. I also saw a picture of myself with really really short hair and wanted to cut all my hair off again. If only I could get ahold of my stylist.

Oh, puppy mornings

Today, I will sleep when the dog sleeps. In his waking hours, I will chase him around making sure he doesn't pee on everything. The whole peeing and sleeping situation is agony. But when he curls up beside me to chew on a bone= bliss.

Bad mother alert: I start out letting Bucket sleep on me so he falls asleep so I can then lay him down in the crate, but in my sleep deprived haze I pass out. I usually wake up to him wiggling. He inches forward and inches forward. Usually this leads to him being on my pillow. But last night he fell off the bed. Granted, the bed is only 4 inches off the ground and a kleenex box broke his fall. It didn't seem to faze him except for the fact that he wasn't on the bed anymore. I still felt bad about it.

NABLOPOMO!!!!!!

Who's with me???!!!!!!!

Please?

A hole in the Bucket

I got a puppy, a french bulldog named, Bucket. I had a lot of fear that I wouldn't love a new dog. But turns out I already do, buckets and buckets of love, even though he pees on the floor every three seconds. He has yet to have a poo accident, which is amazing, especially since he has peed in the house approximately 57 times. The total amount of liquid that has come out of his body in urine today is about a cup. He just likes to dispense it in dime sized portions all over the place.

I sing him a song. It works really good in the shower when he can't get to me, and consequently has some anxiety and cries a little. I sing it while I'm getting his food too. "I know what Bucket likes. I know what Bucket wants. I know what Bucket likes. Bucket likes Cheese." Or sometimes I replace "cheese" with "me" depending on what I'm singing about.

Officially :

I have a Canon G10. The glory. The wonder. It may never leave my sight.

Then, one day I woke up and it was fucking NOVEMBER!!!!

I love rainy days

They make me think of Costa Rica. Oh, the rainforest, the beach. Magic.

I started volunteering at the library

They only let you commit to 2 hours a week. Nothing big, shelving. But I previously thought I had no o.c.d tendencies. Holy Christ. When I'm making something I get substantially more anal retentive, but it is like that feeling puked all over me. I CANNOT let it go when I find something is mis-shelved. I sat down to fix a low shelf with a kid's series on it that had about 65 volumes and every number was out of order. It's a compulsion.

Here 's my newest problem

I had been singing songs about Grubb for nine years. Now, when I have a song stuck in my head I still make it about Grubb. The song never leaves my lips because the second I sing it in my head and I think Grubb's name I'm immediately sad. I had three slip ups yesterday on three different songs. Of course, I don't know remember what songs they were. All but the last, Have a little faith in Grubb. Crushing.

Here are the highlights of my weekend...

Friday night:

First there was bowling. Which combined a lot of screaming with a lot of movement I don't ordinarily do. I had a headache at about 8:30. When the party moved to my house someone peed on the wall of my bathroom. Nice addition to any room. By the end of the night I couldn't sleep because my head hurt. I didn't drink a drop of booze.

Saturday:

Woke up at 7 with the worst sore throat from the yelling. Plus it felt like I had been beat with a stick. I just thought that was bowling soreness. As the day progressed I felt feverish, but nothing unmanageable. Come wedding rehearsal I was ready for death. It was 85 degrees outside and I was feeling cold. Some women are naturally cold. I am not one of them. It is a know fact that if I shiver and it is hotter than 50 outside I have a fever. I power through the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner. Meanwhile, my kidneys are hurting at this point. On the drive home me and MP both came to the idea that maybe I have kidney stones. As the night progressed my fever only got worse. MP was putting cold compresses on my wrists and throat trying to keep me cool. Which worked, maybe. Right as I remembered we had a thermometer I started to cool off. MP hands me the thermometer, I put the thing in my mouth, and he leaves the room. It beeps while he is gone. It says I have a temperature of 98.0. He thinks I didn't leave it in long enough. Like a child who is trying to stay home from school, I monkeyed with the thermometer to get a false read. He had threatened to take me to a doctor so it isn't too far fetched. But I hadn't. Just in case he stayed in the room when I did it a second time. Sure enough 98.1.

Sunday:

I woke up feeling so much better than the night before. As the day progresses the shittier and shittier I feel. Come 10pm I was feeling feverish again. We pull out the trusty thermometer and turns out I have the same temperature of 98.3. I figure it doesn't work. That or my body temp is freakishly low.

Day four is going to be nothing but recovery, because I still have a headache and a sore throat.

Time flies when you're ....

Well, it just flies, no matter what. Kyle turns 30 this year. Considering I met him the week before he turned 19, it makes me feel really, really old.

When I told him about going to talk to someone about being an LCDC councilor and that they told me that it was unlikely that I would get a job since I'm not in recovery he said I should have told them I am a recovering co-dependant. Ha! No shit. How could I forget about all that enabling I have been doing for, my life.

And when I told him I had gone this long without a camera he couldn't believe it. His jaw actually dropped. I can't believe it myself. Six months without a camera. Tomorrow in fact. I need to get on that. First step to happiness.