Sunday, December 25, 2011

That Pinterest is Bitch enthralling

So I discovered Pinterest about 3 weeks ago. I am totally obsessed. In a way, it's a good thing, because it gives me something to do through the long hours I'm trying to avoid my parents and/or thinking about my jacked up love life.

However, if they find my fail frame some day with fingers on computer keyboard, know it will be because Pinterest literally sucked the life out of me. Not kidding.

Fox News how I loath you

Quite frankly, it has nothing to do with politics and everything to do with the 3:30 - 10:30 full volume in surround sound playing of fox news. Every. single. night. Loudly.

And my dad likes to berate the T.V. a lot. So O'Riley doesn't give people a chance to respond to the questions. Instead of watching something else, Dad just yells at the TV.

Occasionally the TV gets changed to some show that my parents watch. He berates the characters on the show too. It's really a good time.

On another note, yet still on the far right nut job side, on the way home from church today (please note, today is Christmas Day) we pass a mosque being built.

Dad, "I don't have anything against them in particular, but I wouldn't mind if that didn't go up."

Mom, "Yeah, like a gas leak or something that causes the building to explode but doesn't kill anyone."

Holy crap I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Tonights fun and games

The phone rings as I am approaching the dinner table. Now, I had been told dinner would be at 5pm. It is now after 6pm. I had planned to meet up with some friends after dinner. So, I race to the phone. I don't answer but I send a text that say just sitting down to dinner.

As I finish typing my mother says, "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't text during the entire meal."

"I'm sorry have I sat at dinner with you YET and texted through the meal?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't know if you have seen me sit at a meal and text? Would you prefer I get up from the table and talk on the phone through the meal time or to send a text that says I can't text? Why is it no matter the situation you always jump to the worst conclusion?"

Cue crickets here.

And then suddenly she wants to be complimentary of my hair and my top and whatever else.

SHOOT. ME.

Convo with parents"

"Honey will you let me know when you won't be here for dinner?" my mother asks sweetly.

"Sure, I say."

NEXT DAY

"Hey, I won't be here Thursday evening."

Mom stares at me blankly.

"I'm going out with Randy and Diana."

"Oh, so you're going to be too smashed to come home?"

What the FUCK? Are you kidding me?

"Uh, no. Didn't you ask me to let you know when I wouldn't be here for dinner? What would possess you to say that to me?"
Text Color

"Well, I didn't know."

NEXT DAY

I come into the kitchen and mom and dad have just finished a fish dinner. I make a sandwich as I loath fish.

Mom says, "I thought you weren't going to be here tonight."

"No, that's tomorrow night. Thursday. And I wrote it on the calendar...like you asked me to do."

"Oh, I got confused."

Sigh. Yes, I see that.

My parents

So, last Saturday I packed up the stuff I thought I would need for 1 - 6 months (yeah, try packing with no idea of how long you'll be somewhere) and took it to my parent's home. Yes, I am very grateful my parents agreed to put the dog and myself up for a somewhat questionable length of time.

First, I had to start cleaning. I know they are getting along in years, so they can't really see, and my dad has always been a bit of a pig pen, but I am telling you the place was disgusting.

My parents arrived back in town after visiting my aunt and uncle on Monday night.

Then the real fun began.

My father, "She's been cleaning. I can't find the Goddamn jigger." (Said, obviously in a totally disgusted voice.)

"The glass jigger on the counter? I just used it." (Now, my need for a jigger was legit this place and my lovely parents demand alcohol to survive. For my dad, it was purely academic, he wasn't making a drink. He was just pissed the bar area was clean.)

"No, not that one."

"The plastic one?" I asked.

"No, not that one."

"What does it look like?" I asked.

"I can't remember, but it's missing."

OK.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Ten things I hate about you

(slightly modified)


I hate the way you move away

and tell me not to stare.

I hate the fact I miss you;

I hate that seeing you is rare

I hate the fact you fly so much

and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

I hate it -- I hate the way you're always right;

I hate it when you say bye.

I hate it when you make me laugh;

even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you're not around

and the fact that you didn't call.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you --

not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.





Friday, December 23, 2011

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

We are about to find out about that. I'm feeling pretty confident walking away from the Air Marshall is going to kill me. There just aren't enough pain killers in the world to make this ok. I am a hot mess of tears. Did I do the right thing? Should I have done it differently? Is there any way for him to work through his mess and come back to me? Does he even want to?

And once I am totally homeless how am I going to function? I can barely make myself get up and do anything now when there is absolute need to get stuff done.

I have made the mother of depressing break up songs mix. Pretty much makes me a puddle every time. Yet, I keep playing it.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

"You are invisible"

This is what IGOOGLE is telling me currently. Actually I figured out how to change my status to say that. It reflects both how I am feeling and what I need right now. I guess.

I am at my parent's house. It requires I mostly be invisible because my dad does NOT like any change to his environment or schedule. An extra person in the house is disturbing to say the least. Bad enough I have been making them watch Buddy the wonder dog, but now his youngest and her plethera of crap are here, his head could explode at. any. moment.

Home? haha. I have none. I am almost completely packed up from my place which is good since the movers show up Monday. The "house contract" is sitting on the desk of some "negotiator" for the seller's mortgage company. Said negotiator I believe is on vacation. The seller's real estate agent has scheduled a phone call with said negotiator for Monday. Yes, the day after Christmas. (Insert snort here.)

So, closing in Feb? Not sure I believe it. Slitting wrists by February? Fairly likely.

In other news, breaking up remains hard to do. I, being the chicken shit that I am, chose to do it via voicemail. What can I say. I knew it needed to be done. He's got a hot mess on his plate and I am not helping anything and the control it was requiring to not flip out on him was becoming overwhelming. So, I did it. Haven't heard from him since. Makes me think I did the right thing. Also makes me want to weep like a baby.

All of this to say, I'm slightly crazed at the moment. I have a shit ton to do, but no desire to do any of it. I want to sit down and just drink myself silly for days but that pretty much guarantees I'll just cry for days which is no good for anyone.

I think I'm developing an allergy to hydrocodone which REALLY makes me want to weep. And in other news, no that pretty much sums it up.

So that invisible thing? Might not be so bad, at least for a little while.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

This is what drugs were made for...

It has been over a month since I last wrote and GOD knows I have shit to write about. But do I write? no. Of course not. I just let my stupid life unwind into mad chaos in front of me. I haven't even been drinking liberally which I fully believe helps.

Am I total lunatic right now? Why, yes, I am. Should I be on some kind of sedative? Totally. Am I? Of course not.

Shall we divy by topics? What the hell.

School ...yeah, that's a hot effin mess. I'll admit the editors have totally brought their A game and they probably will end up getting all of the pages out. Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Clause, and here is your Christmas miracle. It's mildly annoying considering I've been trying to get them to work all semester. I am just tired now. The 13 hour days are killing me.

In the meantime, Lifetouch Photography, those sorry clowns of doom seem determined to screw up at every turn. Literally. It's as if they can't stop themselves. I have a meeting with the one guy I like, but I can't even determine if he's part of the problem or not... it's just a steaming pile of shit.

Home...well, I won't have one very, very soon. Real estate agents are all: closing is on Feb 24 but we are trying for sooner...I talked to a guy who JUST closed his house on a short sale SIX MONTHS after he had a contract. Makes me hyperventilate to think about it. So, I am out of here in 2 weeks, and, well, not actually "in" anywhere.

I know I have the world's greatest parent's that they are not only taking my sorry ass in but that of my oh, so very loveable but terribly behaved 50 lbs of love dog. I also know living with them could make me a little more insane.

At any rate, I may or may not have a home at some point. In the meantime packing is going to be the very death of me. I have SO much stuff. I have got to watch more Hoarders and throw shit out!!!

The man..well, that is just a hot mess of God knows what. I don't even know what to say. I'm insanely crazy about him. He is amazing...but the long distance and all of the other stuff...let's just say there are a lot of roadblocks and potholes and the path isn't easy. As much as I want it to work, I know better than to think the odds are in our favor. They are most definitely stacked against us.

Hence, I sit here on a Sunday night drinking the surprise vodka I found in the back of the fridge (Yea ME!!) Pretty sure there are some foul little grammar errors here (sorry, it's the vodka ; ) Eating pizza because I packed all of my silver ware etc. That's right eating pizza...YES, my stomach does hurt as the food rips its way through my intestines. Nothing but a good time here.