random shit of the week

Speaking of shit .... I just want five minutes to myself in the washroom at work, just 5 minutes, is that too much to ask?

So, I started writing posts a while back in pink, with a label on them "chubby busting" because I was going to get thin dammit. That was March 25, today is September 21 (see how far behind I am in actually hitting "publish"?). I typed up just 4 chubby busting posts, haven't lost a farkin pound, and have seriously considered posting this on kijiji ... evil bitch

I decided it might be time a few weeks ago when I caught myself walking around the love seat with a jacket in hand, fully intending on putting it on the handle ... just like it used to sit in my old house .... as a coat rack. Also, since I've been on my couch the better part of the last 28 36 days, I decided that I needed a change in scenery. Not like, needed to go far from my couch or anything crazy like that ... I mean I needed to change my living room around. Which I did, and now there is certainly no room for that stupid elliptical trainer. Actually, the real reason the living room needed to be switched up was because the cushions were flattening & wearing out on one end on the couch and I was sportin a new cow-lick from where my head's been laying for extended periods of time. Got a little worried there that I might get a bald spot similar to the ones that babies get before they learn how to roll over. And since I changed the living room around, not only are my couch cushions and hair getting evened out, I was able to clearly see and admit to myself that I will never get on that elliptical trainer ever again. That was an insightful and productive day. Or maybe not so much because I started typing this up last week and haven't decided yet if the elliptical is really getting the boot or if I was just having a moment .... However, I am terrified of answering the door one day to the producers of Hoarders: Buried Alive with Sydnerella beside them crying about how she wants her momma and her home back. And even though I have been on my couch most of my free time since T-Bone isn't taking it up anymore, when I'm feeling particularly useless and antsy, I figure doing even one new thing will take my mind elsewhere. A little bit of shopping (or like last night ... a whole lotta shopping) for new, bigger sized clothes since chubby busting has failed, and making the rooms in my house a little easier to be in. I even made enough changes in my bedroom recently that I've finally been able to sleep in my bed .... not yet able to move T-Bone's housecoat off his side of the bed still, but I'm workin on it. I also should report that my car no longer looks like this ...

But like this ... thanks Cuz ...

In addition, I also started my course at the university (where I was outted as an expert in my department because I really should have taken these courses years ago), have managed my way through two three cases of beer by myself in a few weeks, have visited with people from my past since Jackie's funeral because life is too damn short to keep your friends at a distance, bought frames for some rubber-ducky pics that Sydnerella wants to hang (that are still sitting on the kitchen table from about a week ago), tried to change an LED light in my kitchen causing it to break, which brought me to Rona not once but twice because I keep picturing in my mind what it will take to fix the damn thing, and without the help of anyone, I swear to christ I'll fix that fucking light. And my lawn has even been mowed ... by my faux-husband of course, who has also since left me .... I'm not sure how much of this crappy, blah, mindless down time I am alloted, but I do see quite a bit more in my future ... here n there. Over-all, I'm not doing that bad. Even when my mind lands on Jackie. I have such happy and hilarious memories of her, it's easy to smile on the outside when I think of her. I should also add, that over time, I may randomly delete some of these blogs depending how pitiful they end up sounding. And of course will delete them if T-Bone magically cures himself from his bullshit and we end up back together. I will not, however, delete them if we just start sleeping together again. Which I would not be opposed to because I really don't care for this dry spell, regardless of the circumstances. And regardless of discovering my InfraTech Pro Body Massager long forgotten in a moving box.

(Sept 28 update) - Judgey Judgersons, hit the little X in the corner of the screen now!!

And speaking of sleeping with T-Bone, he seduced me Sunday. And I let him. I know I probably shouldn't have been at his house to begin with, just like I probably shouldn't have been with him a few days before, but I really really didn't think we'd end up doing the nasty in his living room while we drank coffee, smoked cigarettes, and watched the Crazies. I didn't expect it sooo much so that my legs were soft and fluffy with three weeks of growth ladies n gentlemen and I haven't seen my bush-whacker in .... uh, a really long time. We totally did it 80's style. Twice. And it really wasn't so much a seduction as it was ... "come lay here so I can reach your boobs". 15 minutes later I was back in my car driving home, with a pretty big smile, feeling pretty damn satisfied. And I don't even care. I don't regret it, I'm not making excuses for it, I'm not ashamed (sawwy Silly Sally - I LIED!). It was fanfuckingtastic. Both times. What of it?

the battle between heart and mind

Stacy and Travis

Mid-2006 was the start of an almost year long man-craze I went on after I was completely over my baby-daddy. I was faithful to him for almost 10 years ... so I was on a mission. Have fun, score lots. And did I ever. It started with my still faux-husband, cruised over a three month rebound-boy who was as unattractive as pooh, past a few random hook ups and dates, and even covered a two-month relationship I was having with a fantastic guy that I clicked with ... hard. He was good in my mind and in my heart. He drove an Escalade and took me to hockey games. He wanted to get serious before I was ready, so I quickly let him go, but I still think fondly of him when I hear Pour Some Sugar On Me. We weren't sleeping together though because I just couldn't let go of the hot 22 year old that I had given exclusive rights to my lady-bits. From January to May 2007, I had flowers delivered to me at work six times. SIX. The receptionist and most of the women on my floor were jealous. I was having fun and I thought I was just getting warmed up. Until one unplanned day in April 2007. I was dragged to a party by my sister where there was a handful of single boys. One of whom spent a little more time talking to me than the rest and who I thought was kinda cute. When the night was at it's close and although not drunk, but not steady enough to drive, my sister, Silly Sally, announced in the middle of the living room that her sister couldn't drive and that someone had to make sure I had a place to sleep. She looked around, then pointed at Travis, who was in the middle of poker hand. He folded his cards, probably an Ace-high flush, and found us a spare room. We laid in the bed until 7am. Talking, laughing, kissing, talking, and laughing. And we did that a few more nights over the following six weeks until I decided he had waited long enough ... hell ... I had waited long enough. We had been holed up in his bedroom for three days, had some heavy make out sessions, and I hadn't scored in .... well, a long time. So we had the schnoo-schnoo. And I was hooked. So hooked that when I fell in love with him in the weeks that followed, I didn't even notice. If felt good, felt great, I had no idea what it was. As summer ended, we packed it in. I was a little blue, but happy to have had such a wonderful time with him, to meet so many great people, to have made so many great memories. At the end of that September, I got an unexpected 2am booty call from Travis, which then turned into our relationship. His exact words to me one month ago today when he left me on the couch were "I was looking left, and you hit me with a right!" Only that time, September 2007, I admitted to myself that I loved him and probably should be careful. The year that followed was sticky. Fabulous. Hard. Easy. Crazy. Fun. Complicated. I was in love with someone who was obviously in love with me, but also obviously pretty messed up. I took it in stride because I had a pre-teen to raise and a full time job anyway. I told myself I didn't have enough time for a full-time relationship and decided I wasn't willing to let him go to start a search for something that everyone was telling me I sooo deserved, that I still argue may not even exist. We dropped the L-bomb a year after we met, then broke up shortly after. We found our way back together within weeks, maybe a month, mostly because I was too fabulous for him to let go of, and we decided to give it a real shot. We had been exclusive, loved each other, enjoyed each other. We had fun together, never fought and didn't need to be together every waking minute. I didn't need him to be my knight in shining armour. I was financially stable, raising my own child, buying my own house, I had built my own life. He had a perfect little spot in it, and I had a perfect spot in his. I began to appreciate our time apart - when he was on Travis-time, which then led to an even stronger appreciation for the time we spent together. We became a solid part of each others lives, each others circle of friends, and families. And against the current, started making our impossible relationship work. I sometimes wished he was my future husband, step-dad (or Pappa Travis he used to joke) to my child. But most times, I was just happy to accept what was right in front of me because it was really great. He made me so happy, smile so big, and laugh so goddam hard, that when I thought of my life without him, I'd cringe. I couldn't imagine it, I still can't. But, in the back of my mind and certainly not all the time, I had thoughts about walking away ... I started wondering sometimes what my life would be like if we weren't together, if we had let whatever this was die long ago. Where would I be? What type of man would be by my side? Would there be a man? Hell ... would there be more kids? (ok, I even made myself shudder a little at that thought .... ). It's September 2010 and I'm facing what maybe I should have already. Maybe. But then I wouldn't have so many good times to look back on, wouldn't have had the pleasure and experiences with this man that doesn't even know how wonderful he is. The rotten, gut-wrenching shit I'm faced with now is that I love him. I love him and I probably have to let him go. And if this magic he's trying to find, or whatever he thinks he needs to take away his troubles and bring him back to me never comes, I'll have to be okay with that. Correction, I will be ok with that. One day. Far off in the future. My mind is telling me this. And thank god for my mind, because my heart is telling me to go all crazy bitch and beg him to come back.

mobile upload Monday

How can I start my own meme? I think this is a great idea now that we are living in a time where there's a camera built in to pretty much every electronic device we carry around. Before I had my crackberry, I never thought of taking random pics of shit while I go about my day. My old cell phone is full of pictures of Trooper, Kid Rock, and Rod Stewart from their concerts, and a bunch of my cat. I love my cat. But as I scrolled through my pics Saturday evening to show a screaming two year old in attempt to shut him up, I realized just how much fun I've had with my blackberry camera. Aside from finding several pics that a screaming two year old snotty pizza crusted lip kissed of my cat (I love my cat AND my 13 year old), hermit crabs, ducks, geese, monkeys, I found enough pics that I've taken to keep myself thoroughly entertained. In the last few weeks, it's been hard to feel even close to happy, but I smiled at these pics big and it's time to show them to the world ... or to my 57 followers. Heart you all.

Huh?

Phew! What a relief ...

Bad pic, but still makes me laugh. Phil Helmuth throwing yet another tantrum after getting knocked out of the WSOP by "the worst poker player in history"

Another bad pic, but it's Green Peace here to save us and our province. The sign reads "Separate Oil and State" and what you also can't see are the people that are blowing in the wind under the sign in harnesses and shorts on one of the coldest days of summer trying to hold the sign steady. I feel no guilt for working in oil and gas, as I already learnt, God is not mad at me

Huh?

I love my cat

My daughter didn't get her fabulous skin tone and ability to tan vs burn from me. I am jealous, it's sad. This was after a week of camping

When you find yourself driving behind this on a Monday when you are still an hour from work, it's pretty much guaranteed you're going to have a shitty day

After 14 vodka cokes, when your shoes fall apart, it doesn't really matter (note: this is not me ... I am taking the pics, silly)

After 14 vodka cokes, it also doesn't matter what you're pulling out of your purse and how many people are staring. Even the couple with the 10 year old kid beside us. We found them INSIDE the restaurant shortly after this, and all the falling, and all the girl/girl kissing, and all the penis talk, fuck bombs, C bombs. But seriously, a patio in downtown Calgary on one of the only sunny days of summer? Leave the kids at home people ... this is ADULT time

My cat loves Tim Hortons Chili. I love my cat

Uber-bad pic, but my point is that mothers are always right. Snotty 13 year old girls that are throwing a fucking fit because they can't find their DS anywhere and their mothers lost it, even though they were told repeatedly to look under all couches, beds, futons are always wrong. The pic is supposed to be of the DS that was lost forever at the most important time of Sydnerella's life, that *I* found sitting right under her futon where there was absolutely nothing concealing it after she swore up and down she looked EVERYWHERE so *I* must have lost it. The is evidence that I am always right ... sucka

Purple camo courier. Matching hat, pants, and BELLY SHIRT. Yes, this is a dude

Just a pic of Synderella and I coming to the finish line of the Mothers Day run and walk

And I had to save the best for last ....

Fucking creepy dude that stares at you when you pee at the pub where my soccer team drinks. I didn't even notice him until AFTER I peed. Turned around to flush and was face to face with buddy. Eee so icky, and yet I couldn't stop staring ..

So that was fun, I'll keep my eyes peeled and crackberry ready for more and try to make this a regular Monday blog. If anyone reading this knows how I can make a meme, all education is appreciated ....

random thoughts

Because I can't think of enough crap to make regular blog posts lately, I'll keep it as a work in progress until I am ready. Just some random shit that could probably be summarized and tweeted about, but I have no followers. I'm not witty enough or can't make the funny shit I see sound funny quickly, and the last 18 days worth of tweets are enough to make me wanna slash my wrists, or better yet, the wrists of someone I really really dislike.

A female co-worker came into my office with a bottle of juice, she's my age and about half my body-mass, and asked me to open her bottle for her, and she passes two men on her way to mine (flattered?). This is the same co-worker who came into my office a while back and asked if I could go show her where the power button on her computer was....

I just got an e-mail from a partner confirming a cheque swap. We are meeting in my usual place for cheque swaps with partners ... Tim Hortons. Because I've never met these people, we always e-mail a quick description of what we are wearing so we aren't going up to random people demanding cash. Mr. Ma, who I am on my way to meet now, tells me he is wearing a stripeS shirt and has black/brown short hairS. (Just a few short hairs?)

One of my favorite bloggers has been blog-jacked, as well as what looks like several others. It's so bizarre, you just have to read it for yourself to believe it, and to get a good laugh really. The blog-jacked is Aunt Becky and I'm linking you to her post about it so you can also go to the blog-jacker and see if you want, really will make you feel better about yourself if you've ever questioned your own sanity. You know you are crazy when ....

My daughter has multiple personality disorder. There is "Sydney" and then there is "Sydney". The first Sydney has an almost angelic voice with a sweet look on her face and a fabulous sense of humour. The second Sydney has a scary monster voice and looks as if she wants to rip the heads of kittens. I am choosing to believe that Sweet Sydney is my daughter, and Scary Sydney is her alter, but who knows ....

There is a lady (and I'm using that term loosely) in my office who enjoys pooping. I know how odd and random that must sound, but imagine what was going through my mind the first time I heard her in the stall directly beside me making erotic noises with each push. If I didn't hear the result hitting the water, I would have fully believed she was gettin herself off in there. I know, I'm sorry ... she's yucky and I have a hard time looking at her.

My mom's out of the hospital after 10 days. She does have emphysema, but did not require an oxygen tank. She's to pop a handful of pills a day, puff on a few inhalers, and she's good to go. Mr. Sister says she'll be hiking in no time. My hope is that she can just manage to walk around Wal-Mart at a normal persons pace. I have smoked roughly 378 packs of cigarettes since August 22. I know I have to quit, but I am terrified of the outcome. Let's see.... This ....

or this ...

Speaking of which, I've been watching a friend shed her chub since her break-up. I'm fat (not epic fat or anything, don't worry yet ..) and bloaty and need new clothes. I'm on my couch all the time, and I have a beer with clamato juice and chips every night before I fall asleep. I even sleep on my couch. I haven't slept in my bed in weeks, T-Bone's housecoat is still where he left it on his side of the bed the last time he took a shower at my house (if you're judging me, please fuck off just a little bit). I don't know what my kid thinks about this, but my cat is thrilled. She can get her face right up to mine while whining for me to let her out to pee at 4am. I love her.

My daughter tries to forbid me to wear my new skinny jeans. Of course, I don't call them skinnies. I call them my new pair of jeans that I scored for $25 that almost completely hides my muffin top (die muffin top bitch). She tells me I'm too old to wear them! The fuck?! Now I do understand that kids generally think their parents just old farts, but I'm 31 for fucksakes. I am this close <-----> to borrowing her Mariana's Trench t-shirt, throwing on her big clunky DC skate shoes, and meeting her at her locker after school with my bangs hanging in my face ... I bet her friends would think I'm hip. No? 

Survivor starts in less than a week. Yay, more couch time. I'm usually excited to join my office Survivor pool, but am feeling a little hesitant to join this time. The big hyper guy at work that organizes it is a sucker for the spoilers. No not only does he calculate everyones points, he also has an idea beforehand how the show will go. He usually wins his own pool. I've come in second place once, but I would rather not even have the chance to win at all if it means I have to listen to his spoilers. I'm a die-hard fan, hard core. I almost cut a bitch last season when she posted the winner on her facebook before I had watched the show.

my daughter makes me smile

Not all the time. If you are a parent, you know this. They can be evil, rotten, devil spawn. But they can also be funny as hell, and sometimes even thoughtful.

Last week was horrid, as horrid as weeks can get. Sydnerella knew this. I hid nothing. And she cares. She has a pretty good heart for an evil, rotten, devil spawn of a 13 year old hormonal mean-ager. She hugged me when she saw me crying over T-Bone, brought me some peanut butter crackers when she knew I couldn't get off the couch a few days later, and she let me grab onto her arm when I almost lost my shit at Jackie's funeral.

What makes me smile sometimes is that she is sneaky. Or more like, thinks she is sneaky. She is oblivious to the fact that just 18 years ago, I was her age. I know whats going through her mind, for the most part. And I know what kind of games she's playing. Like the day we went school shopping. Her phone was on the fritz and her blaming attitude and snotty tone had me dropping the F-bomb in Wal-Mart. I used to care what people may think if I was all potty-mouth around my kid, or yelling at her in Wal-Mart ... but key word there ... my "kid". It's not like I was beating and berating my toddler in the toy isle. She isn't really a kid anymore, she is an evil rotten devil spawn and now, I just get looks of sympathy from other shoppers. People who have been here, done this. People that have their devil spawns at home because they can no longer bring them in public. Some of them are even in awe that I don't start swinging. People know. The Wal-Mart fight was my offer to buy the kid a netbook. Yeah, one of those tiny fucking laptops. I figured we could both get one for the same price as a laptop, and then I'd never have to leave my couch. The netbook was too small, she didn't need it, blah fucking blah, and all she needed was a new phone. Yes, hers was a piece of shit. Yes, her 11,000 text messages per month made it that way. Yes, I knew she needed a new phone. I was on it though, damn. And she knew it. Just needed something to bitch about, and probably just wanted to see what kind of scene I'd cause in Wal-Mart. Well, she saw it first - A fucking big one! We went about the rest of her back to school shopping, and I managed to get her new phone ordered up. Yes, I am fully expecting to be judged for allowing her to have the new phone after the shit-storm that day back to school shopping while I was sick as shit. I'd say within a 48 hour period of her phone being delivered (where I was held fully responsible for UPS taking two days longer than the phone company said) ... she comes to me, ever so sweetly .. "Um, mom, I'd actually really like it if I could get that netbook we saw at Wal-Mart"! The nerve. The fucking nerve. I haven't caved yet, and you can judge me when I do, but my feet are firmly planted on this one right now. I have no desire this time to run out and get the damn laptop, netbook, whatever, even though our home pc no longer turns on. I have my blackberry, I am comfy on my couch with my blackberry. It's all good. Yeah, I can't help but smile at my sneaky and manipulative 13 year old daughter sometimes. The day Jackie passed away, I was in and out of the house throughout the day. She knew it was bad. She knew I was sad. I got a text from her later that evening (word for word) "I know your not feeling good, but today or tomorrow, do you think you can take me to chapters?" Sometimes I smile because I don't know what else to do. I can give her away, but I don't really want to. I can turn into raging drunken mom, which I know with the alcholism in my family, wouldn't be hard. But I really don't like hangovers anymore. I can ground the shit out of her all the time. Take stuff away from her. Backhand her in public. But, the thing is, I like my kid. She may think she usually has the upper-hand, sometimes I even let her think she does. I'll even admit, that sometimes, she simply does. But she's a good kid. I love her. And I can't imagine my life without her.

my aching heart thanks you all

I am overwhelmed with emotion this week. I need sleep and I need more answers than I will ever get. Christy, I love you dearly. You are one of my best friends and I hold you tight in my heart. I can’t even begin to thank you enough for reaching out to everyone for me. And thank you all who don't even know me for your kind words. I was sitting at my friends kitchen table as we started to make funeral arrangements for her daughter as the messages came in and they hugged my heart. And anyone else who may be reading this that has been there for me all week, thank you. I feel very loved and very blessed and very very lucky.

The first friend I ever had didn’t wake up Monday morning. She will rest peacefully forever, out of our lives but not our hearts. She has left behind one of my best friends (her mom) and her 9 year old son. I am blessed to have been one of the first people to see him arrive in the world. And am touched that I was thought of first to write and read Jackie’s eulogy in the days to come. As I hadn’t been part of her life the last few years, there is someone better suited for that honor though, and I will blog about that guilt soon enough. In the meantime, please read these two stories from my childhood, two hysterical stories about me and my friend Jackie:

The K-Mart Story

How to make a Million dollars when you're 6

And now, the balance of my turmoil that I have faced this past week …. I wrote this blog Monday morning, was just finishing it up when I got that still unreal call from Jackie’s mom that dropped me to my knees in my office…..

My mom turns 59 today (September 1). She’s spending her birthday in the hospital. Where she’s been since Friday. Since the day she couldn’t take a breath on her own. Being a smoker of 43 years, her lungs have basically told her to Fuck Off. They are done, they have worked hard enough, and she’s actually pretty lucky they haven’t let cancer settle in. Without going into a full tutorial on emphysema, as shitty as it is to say, she caused this. We’ve been watching her deteriorate for years without knowing what the problem is. She is to blame, we are to blame, her idiot doctor is to blame …. So there it is. Spend your whole life drinking and smoking and not taking care of your body, wake up one morning and your lungs can no longer function on their own. You get to lay on a stretcher in the hallway of an over-crowded hospital for 6 hours waiting for a bed in the emergency room on a Friday night where people are screaming in the rubber rooms, trying to attack security guards, 80 year old women are stripping naked and throwing stuff because their dementia is so bad and the nurses don’t seem to know what to do. My mom’s nurses and doctors have been wonderful to her. She’ll be in the hospital for awhile to come, getting this tune up on her lungs and preparing her to most likely live the rest of her life with a tank of oxygen at her side. Which at this point, I am terribly grateful for considering what could have happened that day if her good friend and neighbor wasn’t there to call 9-1-1.

I don't know what else to do, say, or feel. I have tremendous support and as wonderful as Travis has been this past week, my heart is still breaking for him and our relationship. I would give anything to have me cuddle me to sleep. A sleep I so desparately need.