In the last 20 days my sister gave birth which was traumatic for both mother and child. The day the baby was released from ICU my grandmother was admitted to a different ICU.
My grams died this afternoon, so I don’t expect to be back for a while.
Um, I just got home, and there was some sort of carnage from Thursday night that I didn’t know till now. Also, there were some windows open on my computer. I was in the middle of some strange searches. There is a package waiting for me in the office at my complex, but I don’t think I have anything ordered and on the way. Scary. I was checking my email to see if I ordered something and got a confirmation. No confirmation, just some emails in my sent folder that are horrible. Horrible in the sense of what I say and to whom they were sent.
I’ve sent off an apology email, but really? There may be fewer people in my life if I keep behaving like this. Nothing like drug-fueled truth telling to endear me to my ex’es.
People, if I’ve called or written and I am entirely incoherent or the spelling is a mess and I talk about being on drugs, please just ignore what I said/wrote and let’s never mention this again.
And I was so looking forward to another night of restful sleep with my good friend ambien…
15 years of drugs and alcohol use and my first black-out is on Ambien.
I may have been doing laundry in my underwear. The machines are not in my apartment. You make your own conclusions from that statement
And to think, I never even thought Ambien was impressive enough to crush and snort.
Have mercy.
I have anger issues. I am seeing a therapist talktoatoo but I don’t know if she’s really figured me out. IT would help if told her the truth rather than spread yarns arfbloiut yd afamilly asndf fereions.
Also, I am a heavy user of ambien. the key board is like a grey matt og buttons clodse enpoiojgj gh to where I wamnt my girfsgers to be to make words. This ios much eashiuer to type than reasd. But my eyes are closed, so there’s that. o
I’ve been going to the guym like it counts, nbut I am sure it does not. I could run 20 miles a day and I would still be shrot and fat. how derpression.! Hey I could share that though with my theraopist. She would really apprcieate it if I told something real in our sessions.
It clearl that I am only there for the mecudatoin sd.s Once I take the drugs I have 35 minutes of uprigrthedness. I can see the imminet countdow n..
Sorry I was away and for such crrappy reasons. Will work on the writing, though that needs me to go ot and inteacrt with the poeple.. fwo fwfkw
owpk2
Things can only be for so long before they are not. I would much prefer the not.
My sister is pregnant. This is good. The family is getting their grand/great-grand child. My sister is getting her child. I am getting some peace.
Except I am throwing her a baby shower. Cross-country. And my family, they’re kind of being special about things. Specifically my stepmother and father. I don’t know about you, but when I get a request for mailing addresses for four specific people I don’t return a list of 14. I’ve already order the engraved invitations so ordering more is not happening. I’ve already sent out invites to all the other families and groups of friends and the RSVP date is in four weeks, so even if I lost my dang mind and ordered another printing of 20 invites, which would cost half as much as ordering 80 so kind of a lot of money there, I wouldn’t have time to get them back to me and then addressed and mailed out. I did the next best thing.
I spent the day at stationery store buying card sets that match the paper of the invites. Bruce then scanned one of the original invites and I tweaked a little until the coloring was right. I then messed around in word and created reasonable facsimiles of the RSVP card and direction inserts. I then printed onto the card stock. You see, even though I had set aside four for the original list I didn’t think I could send engraved invitations to my four aunts and then something clearly different to their daughters. So I had to make invites for the whole list. My head is killing me and all I want to do is go to sleep, but the pile of laundry calls as does Bruce’s very untidy apartment.
This whole matter is only complicated by the fact that my step-mother has not sent me a list for her side. I’ve already sent her invite and invites to some of her niece’s. I specifically mentioned that I needed five addresses from her side of the family. So it’s kind of strange that the list I got only included my father’s side. I’ve managed to whitepage.com two of the people I needed and I sent one of the niece’s to her mom with an apology note (I hated getting invites at my mom’s house long after I moved out). That leave two more people from my step-mother’s family. Everyone else is going to get invites and being talking about the baby shower at Christmas, which is historically held at my father’s place so that is going to be really awkward for the two females from that side that didn’t get an invite. I’ve already resorted to calling 411 to get their phone number to call them directly to get their address, no luck.
I am dealing with all this in a strategic manner. I left a message on my father’s voicemail saying: “I found a few addresses, but I still needed two more. I’ve already mailed out the other ones and I know my sister really wanted to see her aunt and cousin and I wouldn’t want them to feel like they were not invited.” I hope this motivates my family to do the right things. Unfortunately do to all the personality disorders that are running rampant right now, I don’t know if that is even a possibility.
I’m not sure what the interaction is going to be, but if there is a reason for what’s going on, I am going to make my father and step-mother tell my sister directly. I am not taking the heat for this.
The recent appearance of some past friends has had an unusual effect on my life. My balance had been unbalanced. Balance.
There is always the welcomed flashback, especially in the case of the good ex. I know, such an oxymoron, but he was good. He’s still very good. And that is good. I really need to stop saying good. Then there’s the bad. The very bad. So, I am more than happy to hear about the good and his happy life. Knowing that his life is doing what life does and includes someone that keeps him warm at night…is. It just is. It’s the bad that drives me nuts.
Basically every time I hear from him all I can think is “Hey fucker. Shut the fuck up. You stupid annoying fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Of course others might think that I care and that’s why I am annoyed by his very presence. Thankfully I’ve had an epiphany, it’s not that I care, it’s that I really don’t believe the drivel that comes running out of his mouth. At least three times in the last five years he’s told me all about the woman he’s going to marry…this time. There is a point where the comment is actually superfluous and that is not something one should think about a declaration of love.
I understand that he has always wanted to meet the girl of his dream, get that house with the white picket fence, a few kids, a dog and a sunset. But for all that is holy man, stop being so transparent. There’s a reason why so many perfect matches turn out to not be what he thinks. I just wish he would stop trying to convince me of whatever it is that he’s trying to convince himself.
I have a friend going through some bad times with a very toxic friend. We’ve all had them. It’s so hard to cut them off and make a break from them. There is something in the way the toxic friend builds a relationship that makes the innocent party feel guilty, like it’s our fault for not being more understanding or something. I gave her some great advice and told her that I would support her in making a clean break. The thing is, I should have been taking my own advice. My bad ex is totally toxic. He is all those things that would make me drop a friend.
He is selfish and stupid. He has only ever thought about himself and was never really interested in what I needed. He is still trying to run his game and I keep letting him be in my life. But why? What’s in it for me? Where is the take in this give and take situation? The toxicity is overwhelming at this point and there is only one way to flush this out of my life.
It’s time for me to tell him who he really is. He is, quite frankly, not a good guy. He is not my friend. He has no place in my life. Good bye bad ex. Ye hardly knew me.
Sometimes I want to be the same.
Britain faces sperm shortage, calls for donors
Man alive!
For the third October in a row, Bruce and I took a quick jaunt to the east coast for a wedding. Add to the mix a wedding in Orange County, a weekend in San Diego, a weekend looking at houses to buy and you’ve got yourself one tuckered out Some Girl. Work always takes a swing toward the manic during this time of year. All of our reporting measures are due at the end of the year so there are some pressures to perform at high volumes for the next two months.
Work is getting kind of interesting. There are an awful lot of projects with my name as the lead. That’s cool, especially as I am moving in the right direction at work. Upward and onward. The thing is, as I move toward an ambiguous line of demarcation I have figured out that I will need to go back to school (again) for (yet) another degree. The emotional toll of this is not insignificant. More education. More loans. I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude to do this all again.
Feh. I am now deeply tired from all this typing. I hope Bruce is bringing me something warm to eat. And that he will hand feed me.
I have had one of those weeks. You know, the type of week where you look around for the hidden camera.
This is part one of my wonky week,
this is part two,
and this is part three.
Part one was found when I went looking for a knee brace. Running on the treadmill is killing my right knee. I was innocently minding my metaphorical p’s and q’s when I happened upon what can only be described as the wackiest thing in the knee brace section.
Part two was found when I was whipping my way through target to get some new socks for the gym (see part one).
Part three was found when I was trying to make my way home after a very long week of political fire-cracker work week. As always I am keeping the work stuff to myself, but needless to say I find little humor in my very first San Francisco protest (by proxy because it wasn’t like I was in the actual protest, more on my way through said protest) blocking my way into my apartment. Bastard bleeding liberals need to not impede my ability to lay on my floor weeping from exhaustion.
Bruce and I are off to San Diego for the weekend. Hopefully I can find something to pack for the cocktail reception on Saturday. Otherwise I am going to have to hide in my room and that would be weirdly antisocial. Can I wear jeans to a cocktail reception?
So I went to brunch with Sarah, Mrs. Palin if you’re nasty. I have to say, having been to enough of these shindigs in my day, this was about as well organized and as time conscious as they come. By that I mean, not very well organized and certainly not on time, by any stretch of the imagination. No one ever expects the Secret Service to search every bag and yet every time the Secret Service searches every bag. It’s just like at the airport but without the mouth-breathers.
Once you get past the check-in, which happens in one place, and the security check, which happens in another place (separated by 5 five and an endlessly long line) you have to go find a place to sit. This is a lot like back in the days at high school. There are some tables in front, for the popular kids, in this case people who raised $10,000 in donations, there are groups of people who all clearly know each other from middle school, or rather people who regularly attend these functions but refuse to fork over that kind of cash, and are now congregating around the second tier tables, and then there are all the other people, not really familiar with anyone else, maybe knows a single other person there and now must approach a partially full table and ask to sit there, you know. Luckily Bruce and I were early enough to snag goodish seats at well located table.
When we started introducing ourselves around it turned out the guy next to Bruce worked a very similar job (same general profession) at a competing firm where a friend of mine works (who he knew). There were enough commonalities that we had some good ol’e fashion conservative talk while the rest of the room filled. It was interesting to see the crowd of almost 2000 fill a ballroom because the original venue was a private estate that fits only a few hundred. The GOP definitely underestimated the desire for the Bay Area to show their support of Sarah. I get why, few people are bold enough to verbalize the fact that they are republican, never mind voting McCain/Palin. People are so rabid, insane, and assumptive in their support of democrats that they never imagine that someone might just in fact be voting for the other guy. And of course, someone from Boston would be even more liberal! Except go checkout Massachusetts. We are the place that elected Mitt Romney, a Mormon Republican, and we’re not ashamed by that. We were the first to give the gays the right to marry, we were the first to have universal health care for all people in the state, we’re not fans of the death penalty…BUT we are very conservative in many other ways and that is how we have a very healthy and active republican party.
But enough about me, on to Sarah. As always there were a few speakers. Some guy from some place working the campaign trail. Maybe the governor of Utah. Then some other dude, local republi-dude. And then dodadodah. Then we got us some food. Hotel food served en mass, much like some sad business brunch, is always a meh. It’s not like we were there for the food. But while we ate there was a little ditty about Sarah Palin projected onto a series of screens. Nothing everyone hasn’t heard or seen before. Well there was a humorous little thread about Moose Stew, but you kind of had to be there. Trust me, it’s not at all funny when I re-tell it.
Then after what seemed like days on end, but was probably about 30 minutes, Sarah came out. I would love to say it was inspirational and that she was a moving speaker, but I cannot tell a lie. Well, actually I can, but it seems silly to waste a lie for Sarah. She was just like every other politician I’ve heard speak. I’ve been in the room while Jesse Jackson waxed poetic, I’ve gotten drunk with a Bulger , I’ve eaten with Bill Weld and Mike Dukakis, several Kennedys, the Krafts, a Heinz and a Kerry so trust me when I say this, most politicians are just okay when they speak. (If you ever desire a chance to meet these types of people go get a low-paying job at a large state-wide non-profit organization that cares for the under-educated, the homeless, the unskilled and the generally out of luck. The grant money the NPO runs on comes from the good graces of the guys in charge. The guys in charge loooooooooooooove telling you how great they are over a glass of whiskey.)
Let me be very clear. Sarah Palin is a politician. She is no better or worse than any other politician. She’s not smarter or dumber, she’s certainly prettier, but considering the pool of candidates, that’s not really saying much. She read her speech, that was written for her by someone else, very well and was able to drive home the points that she was supposed to as the vice presidential candidate. She stayed on point and said the name John McCain easily 40 times. She drew applause and waited politely for it to finish, she drew jeers (at the mention of the New York Times!) and waited politely for it to finish and she drew laughter and waited politely for it to finish. Sarah broke no new ground at the brunch. She brought forth no new ideas. She merely did what a good foot solider in a campaign like this is supposed to do and that was tell everyone why her guy was the better guy for the job.
I know a lot of people have some lofty ideas about what a campaign should be and what the players should be saying. Quite frankly those people are idiots. If that is what you think politics are about you clearly have never been close enough to see what it really about. I’ve been on the inside of these things and Sarah Palin, while prettier, is no different from any of the other people stumping out there. Knowing this, I have no problem saying that I am charmed by her. She is funny. She can clearly take a joke. She cares about her family. She has a different perspective than the other three people on the campaign trail this year. She doesn’t make me want to slash my wrists every time I see an add with her in it. In fact, she’s the only one I would like to see in the White House, if only she would run as a Libertarian, it would make all my wet dreams come true.
I know that a lot of people, mostly democrats, are talking about the election like it’s a done deal. Maybe, but maybe not. I think things will be interesting in a few weeks. And judging from the turn out in Burlingame, you never know when the Californian Republicans/Libertarians are going to take matters into their own hands and turn out another victory for a republican president.
And with the beginning of new day here in this corner of the Internet I call home. After taking two months off from the gym (it was all because of The Great Toenail Removal Project of ’08 and not because I am a lazy fuck) I returned to great success, by which I mean I got my ass on a treadmill for over an hour without passing out. Sure, my pace was off but I am just glad I didn’t die. Now all I have to do is remember how to run on a treadmill again and we will be back in business.
My self improvement project of myself is moving along swimmingly. My hair has moved up the rating scale from attractive to super fantastic. Strangers on the street are stopping me to ask me where I get my hair done. This is step one in becoming Agent Breck.
Step two is that my invisaligns are more than half-way done, a mere three more months and my “American Teeth” will be “Hollywood Teeth” and I will spend my time being super smiley. This is coupled with my stupidly shallow obsession with my eyelashes, which have now been extended. This really is better living through science people. I dreamt of the day when eyelash extensions would be within reach and now here I am, with newly extended lashes, super straight teeth and shiny hair. I AM AGENT BRECK!*
Step three is the gym. I hate the gym and always will but I am now determined to be a gym freak. In January I am going home for my sister’s baby shower. Coincidentally the date of the baby shower is also my 30th birthday. Awesome. So I am now determined to loose as much weight as possible in the next 3 months, have super hair, super eyes and super teeth because people I cannot face 30 while being anything other than absolutely fabulous. I was not made to be 30 but if I have to be 30 I will be fan-friggen-tastic at 30.
* The Breck Girl was always so super fantastic and smiley and wide-eyed!
I’ve been keeping secrets. Not just from you, but from my family and my friends. It’s just time to be real and start telling the things that I’ve been afraid to share. I know that some people will judge me harshly. Some people will stop speaking to me. Some people will talk smack about me. It’s time to come clean.
I like Sarah Palin. Bruce and I went to this and paid money to do so. We have officially contributed to the Republic National Committee fund to elect John McCain.
Oh, and in case this wasn’t clear enough:
McCain in 08.
I’m back.
So much has happened.
First there are some blog-cleaning activities that must occur. My email is being overrun by bots sending me ever so helpful information on a variety of narcotics/penile enhancements/opportunities to inherit a fortune from a terminally ill and paralyzed distant relative (no really, it actually said: “it wasn’t so bad after the stroke, but the chemotherapy is quite difficult to take”).
Second the people upstairs are having sex. Slowly.
Third you must know I’ve been cheating on you. I’ve been exchanging emails with someone in the city. I’ve been exhausting all my endlessly funny stories on him. I think I will just go through my emails and paste them in (at least that way you can read all the opportunities I’ve had to make my fortune on the back of someone so close to death).
Fourth I have a wedding this weekend in LA. A retreat next weekend in San Diego. A baby christening the weekend after that. A wedding in Georgia the weekend after that. Then I plan on sleeping for a month.
Fifth Natalie will be mad if end here so I shall soldier on. Natalie also has had the opportunity to soak up my funny goodness. But the things I say to make Nat laugh are not really all that appropriate for this forum. Mostly because I will say something about someone, and then that someone will read it here, and the someone will be like: “Hey bitch! I have feelings.” And then I will be all: “Shut up whore.” This will go on for awhile until one of us passes out from lack of oxygen and we will wake up feeling all awkward or something. And then things will never be the same.
Sixth my apartment is looking pretty supa-fly.
Seventh I don’t know why I am writing out the numbers. It’s annoying me. But I am too lazy to go back and change this. Or add the correct suffix/punctuation.
Eighth my clothes are fitting awfully snug this month. Maybe it’s time to get over the fact that I had some of my toenails removed and get back into the gym. I just looked at some photos from when I first moved out here. I was fit! No really. What the hell happened? Let me answer that rhetorical question: Bruce. Bruce happened. Fucking comfort eating.
Ninth my yearly review went really well last month. I was given the highest possible raise. Yes: 5.3%. Word. Now I have actual projects that I own and people ask me actual questions that I need to be able to actually answer promptly. Whoever set me up in this con needs to be beaten. When I interviewed for this job no one ever said that there would be questions.
Tenth bitches I made it! An even multiple of five. Thank you and good night.
