Well, after three verbal requests and a nasty email, I was a little pissed to see that my manager at Dildo's was still ignoring my request for a weekend off. When I got to work on Wednesday, she hadn't even so much as given me a courtesy reply to my email. Not even a "I will have to see about this. I will talk to you later about it." -- I got nothing. Nada. [insert rage and frustration here.]
I knew she hadn't left work yet, so I paged her. No reply. I knew she was ignoring me. [insert more rage and frustration here.]
About a half hour later, I see her, trying to sneak away by taking the long way around the jewelry department. It was raining, and she even had the nerve to sort of hold her umbrella in front of her face. As if I'm not going to know it's her!!! ARGH.
"Heather!" I shouted, accusingly. She was so busted. She stopped, put down the umbrella, and glared at me.
"I need to talk to you about my schedule," I continued, unfazed. "I'm tired of this. I need a weekend off. And why didn't you reply to my page?"
"Technically, I'm not here right now," she snapped back. Ohhhhhh, no she didn't!!! I have talked to her numerous times, and she keeps blowing me off, and NOW she's copping an attitude with ME??? That little fresh-outta-college snooty ass bitch! She is going DOWN. I am so sick of her making time in her day to flirt with one of the other managers but never making time to do her fucking job.
Then she told me that I need to realize that not everyone gets a weekend off every month. Some people just don't get one, sometimes.
I replied, "Yeah. I know. I'm one of them. But I need this weekend off."
I did not appreciate her attitude or her bullshit. Almost everyone else in the department gets their weekends off with no problem. But for me and a couple other people, we have to pull teeth. It makes no sense.
"Fine," she said, halfway rolling her eyes. "Just take it."
"Thank you," I replied. Heather left.
I was so pissed off at the way she had just acted, I almost walked out right then and there. If it weren't for a special sale going on today, I probably would have just quit on the spot. But there's some jewelry I want to buy...so I will work tonight.
Over my luxurious weekend off, I will think about whether or not I will return to Dildo's on Monday. I might. I might not. Maybe I will "forget" to come in. Or perhaps I will, but I will "technically not be there." AAAARRRGH.
I am really crossing my fingers that I will hear SOON about whether or not I get to teach this class. I don't know how much longer I can put up with Dildo's. Maybe I can hang in there for two more weeks...
Speaking of timelines, I talked to The Czarina the other day. Now, a lot of people have a hard time understanding why she drives me nuts, but if they knew the crazy things that she says to me, they would understand. This is basically how our phone conversation went:
Mom: So, how is CN?
VB: He's fine! Wonderful as usual.
Mom: That's good. He's such a nice guy. I do like him.
*Relief on my end of the line.*
[Little do I know, she's just setting me up. That was her idea of a warm up to what she really wanted to lecture me about.]
Mom: So, have you two talked about marriage yet?
Oh Jezus. Here we go....
VB: *trying desperately to think up an urgent reason to get off the phone.* Not really, Mom. No.
Mom: Well, you know, you might want to put him on a timeline. You don't want to waste any more time. I mean, if he's never going to pop the question...you might just want to break it off.
[Nevermind that doing so would make me totally miserable, but apparently, this is beside her point. And I love how all the time I've spent dating him has been a 'waste' of time.]
VB: Mom, we're fine. We have had a couple of conversations in that direction. He asked a lot of questions about my roommate's engagement. And we talked about kids once.
Mom: *hissing* Well, don't bring it up! You want it to be his idea! Let me tell you, you don't want a man who doesn't have to marry you. All that stuff should be his idea! It all needs to come from him! He needs to really really want to marry you.
VB: Ok, Mom. I get it. Yes, I agree. I don't want to browbeat him into it or anything. I'm not really an ultimatum kind of girl.
Mom: Ok, well stop bringing up wedding stuff. Don't even mention it around him.
VB: *rolling my eyes* Ok, Mom. We haven't even been dating a year yet. Everything is fine.
Mom: Ok, well, I love you, hon. I'll talk to you later.
VB: I love you, too, Mom. Bye.
Is anyone else wondering how it is fair to put CN on a "timeline" without informing him about this timeline? Doesn't seem quite fair, does it? It's like she's saying, "He needs to marry you soon. But don't talk about marriage." WTF? That doesn't make any sense! That's like yelling at someone for not taking out the trash, when they didn't even know the trash was full in the first place. Even though you knew the trash was full the whole time. It's like expecting someone to read your mind. And it's not fair.
And nevermind that he and I may not be ready for all of that yet! I love how she never asks me how I feel about this idea. Apparently, I don't need to think about it or decide anything for myself. It's all about how CN feels. A marriage conversation is totally one-sided, I guess. We know there would be no hold up on my end. I must be ready. I'm a girl. I want to be married yesterday. (Ok, I guess I can't really argue with the last statement...let's be honest, here.) But good grief! Like I need any pressure from my mother!!! We'll get there when we get there!
She's acting like women have to trick men into marrying them or something. And that's not what I'm all about. At all. If CN turned to me today and said, "I don't want to get married for another 8 years." I would be ok with it. Obviously, I wouldn't be super excited about it, because I would like to get married before I'm 40, in all honesty. But that's not something I would break up over. I would still want to be with him, even if he took his sweet ass time. I'm trying to enjoy the ride, not set an egg timer.
Jeezus! What is with her advice lately?? This is almost as bad as the time she told me I should go to medical school:
"Why, Mom? I don't want to be a doctor. I don't even want to be in the medical field. That's a helluva lot of debt. And besides, I have a weak stomach. Why on earth would I do that?" I replied.
"Duh!!! So you can meet and marry a doctor, Virginia!" she replied, frustrated. I swear, if she had been sitting closer to me, she would have thunked me in the head.
Do you see what I have to put up with?? My mother is crazy!
Showing posts with label busted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label busted. Show all posts
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
I'm a Survivor
I was hoping to have a bunch of awkward and hilarious anecdotes to share with you about the trip up to The Czarina's. But nothing really happened! Everything went really smoothly. CN likes Mom, Mom likes CN. The end.
CN really enjoyed teaming up with The Czarina to tease me, which caused me to exclaim more than once, "Hey! Whose side are you on, anyway?!" to him. They thought this was hilarious.
I have to say, I think Czarina was on her best behavior. Not once did any of our baggage-laden, touchy-subject issues come up in conversation. She didn't even speak a word about my obvious weight gain!!! And it definitely helped that she had a party to host, because it really wasn't in her schedule to sit down for a heart-to-heart with him, asking about his intentions. She was much MUCH too distracted. WHEW.
Her distraction was so great, in fact, that not even 30 minutes after lecturing Smurf about her abysmal teenage driving skills, she was pulled over by a policeman for running a stop sign. Whoops. To make it even worse, Mom was so oblivious to his flashing lights that she just proceeded to park her car and get out to go do her business as if nothing were wrong. CN and I, who had already parked in our car and were waiting for her nearby, saw her get out of her car and so we began yelling, "What are you doing??!! He's going to pull a gun on you!!!" and then we busted out laughing when we saw her realize what was going on. Then we called Smurf to tell her that Mom just got pulled over for blowing a stop sign. And that she could have been shot for getting out of her vehicle. The Czarina will never live this down.
CN was a paragon of perfection, if I do say so myself. Fat Dog was not around to help Mom with the party, because he was in his best friend's wedding and therefore, out of town. Fungus arrived with a painful back injury, so he was also unable to help out with party preparations. So CN stepped up to the plate and moved furniture, set up tables and carried lots of things around for my mother. I was very proud, and The Czarina was very grateful. He earned lots of points.
Aside from one guest showing up FIVE HOURS EARLY to the party, despite the invitations CLEARLY stating the party started at 6pm*, everything went really well, party-wise. There was plenty of leftover food and alcohol. I got to see many friends of the family. CN made a wonderful impression on everyone, but at the same time, he said he never felt pressured or overwhelmed the entire time he was at The Czarina's. In fact, he said he had a great time and thought everyone was wonderful. I wish I could say the same thing -- not once, but TWICE during the party someone whispered very loudly to me, "So, do you think he's the one???" when CN was barely out of earshot. This made me want to whisper loudly back, "I don't know! Maybe you should ask him, since he's standing right behind you!!"
Argh. I should have spent more time avoiding the loud whisperers, rather than just trying to stay away from my mother.
* This is pretty typical behavior for this guest. Last year, he refused to drive to the party himself, and my poor brother was stuck driving him on the 3 hour trip to my mother's house. Keep in mind that this particular guest is a sweaty, creepy old man who is very nosy, particular and irritating. And he wears shorts with black knee socks, a source of much amusement for the under-40 crowd at the party.
CN really enjoyed teaming up with The Czarina to tease me, which caused me to exclaim more than once, "Hey! Whose side are you on, anyway?!" to him. They thought this was hilarious.
I have to say, I think Czarina was on her best behavior. Not once did any of our baggage-laden, touchy-subject issues come up in conversation. She didn't even speak a word about my obvious weight gain!!! And it definitely helped that she had a party to host, because it really wasn't in her schedule to sit down for a heart-to-heart with him, asking about his intentions. She was much MUCH too distracted. WHEW.
Her distraction was so great, in fact, that not even 30 minutes after lecturing Smurf about her abysmal teenage driving skills, she was pulled over by a policeman for running a stop sign. Whoops. To make it even worse, Mom was so oblivious to his flashing lights that she just proceeded to park her car and get out to go do her business as if nothing were wrong. CN and I, who had already parked in our car and were waiting for her nearby, saw her get out of her car and so we began yelling, "What are you doing??!! He's going to pull a gun on you!!!" and then we busted out laughing when we saw her realize what was going on. Then we called Smurf to tell her that Mom just got pulled over for blowing a stop sign. And that she could have been shot for getting out of her vehicle. The Czarina will never live this down.
CN was a paragon of perfection, if I do say so myself. Fat Dog was not around to help Mom with the party, because he was in his best friend's wedding and therefore, out of town. Fungus arrived with a painful back injury, so he was also unable to help out with party preparations. So CN stepped up to the plate and moved furniture, set up tables and carried lots of things around for my mother. I was very proud, and The Czarina was very grateful. He earned lots of points.
Aside from one guest showing up FIVE HOURS EARLY to the party, despite the invitations CLEARLY stating the party started at 6pm*, everything went really well, party-wise. There was plenty of leftover food and alcohol. I got to see many friends of the family. CN made a wonderful impression on everyone, but at the same time, he said he never felt pressured or overwhelmed the entire time he was at The Czarina's. In fact, he said he had a great time and thought everyone was wonderful. I wish I could say the same thing -- not once, but TWICE during the party someone whispered very loudly to me, "So, do you think he's the one???" when CN was barely out of earshot. This made me want to whisper loudly back, "I don't know! Maybe you should ask him, since he's standing right behind you!!"
Argh. I should have spent more time avoiding the loud whisperers, rather than just trying to stay away from my mother.
* This is pretty typical behavior for this guest. Last year, he refused to drive to the party himself, and my poor brother was stuck driving him on the 3 hour trip to my mother's house. Keep in mind that this particular guest is a sweaty, creepy old man who is very nosy, particular and irritating. And he wears shorts with black knee socks, a source of much amusement for the under-40 crowd at the party.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
One Day at a Time
Today is my ten year anniversary. For the last decade, I have maintained my sobriety 100%. My life has remained totally alcohol-free since the late 90s.
If you are doing the math, you are realizing that I did not drink on my 21st birthday. And that I quit drinking after my freshman year of college. I will add that I do not even sip champagne at New Year's or drink the wine at church.
A lot of people ask me how on earth I could have been an alcoholic at such a young age. The answer to this is that many alcoholics are born that way. In my family, it seems to be genetic: two grandparents, one parent, three siblings and several extended family members have all been afflicted with this disease. At least 2 have died in alcohol-related deaths. So whether I began drinking at age 16 or age 43, the results would have been the same: I have and will always have a problem controlling my drinking.
When I tell people that I really only drank for two years, they are even more confused. How did I realize I had a problem after only 2 years? After all, the majority of college freshmen are binge drinkers, especially on the weekends, and especially at large state universities. But by the time I was about 12, I had seen the effects of alcoholism on my family. Thanks to my mother's lectures and descriptions, I could rattle off the signs of an alcohol problem as easily as my multiplication tables.
By the time I was a senior in high school, alcohol was readily available to me, and like most young people, I was all about experimenting. Gradually, I began to see some bad signs...
Blackouts were my first sign that I may not have a normal and healthy relationship with alcohol. Yes, many novice alcohol drinkers have blackouts. But I was having them about once a month. And it wasn't like certain parts of the evening were hazy. I'm talking about the WHOLE NIGHT. Once, I woke up in my dorm room, dressed in party clothes, with a trashcan next to my bed and a concerned note from my friends. To this day, I do not even remember going out AT ALL. I have no idea what I did or where I was. Think about that. It's kind of scary to be that out of control.
If I wasn't blacking out entirely, I was drunk to the point that I had to be carried out of the party. At every party. Having "just two" didn't compute in my brain. Where's the fun in that? The whole goal of the evening is to reach the if-I-have-one-more-I-will-barf buzz and keep it as long as possible. Duh. But of course, I am an alcoholic, so the stopping point for me was always "just one more and I'll stop." Remember the girl at the frat party who was always found sitting on a step, slurring and crying and asking everyone for a cigarette? The one with barf all over her tank top and mascara smeared all over her face? Who had to be baby-sat by her girlfriends? That was me. Every weekend. And by weekend, I mean Wednesday thru Saturday nights. Alcoholics are always up for a party.
My ability to increase my tolerance for alcohol was frightening. By the end of my first semester in college, I could put down 10-12 beers. They were like soda pop to me. I weighed about 130 pounds. I was drinking this amount of beer in less than 2 hours. I'm no good at math, but it's pretty safe to say that I was far over the legal driving limit. I remember strategizing on Friday and Saturday nights, using complicated formulas to ensure maximum alcohol consumption: "Ok, if I don't eat anything between noon and six, and then eat as many breadsticks as I can an hour and a half before I leave to go out, I should be able to drink 2 extra beers before I barf." -- Who does that??? That is not normal!
It wasn't just the urge to drink as much as I possibly could, as quickly as I could. Just like any other alcoholic, I didn't give a rat's ass what the beverage was, I just wanted as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible. If you are a normal person, and you despise tequila, when you go to a party that serves nothing but tequila, you are probably going to drink water or soda pop all night. Not the alcoholic. They will think, "Crap. I hate tequila. This is going to suck." -- and then they will line up the shots and down ten of them before you can blink an eye! That makes absolutely no sense. It's like someone who hates broccoli eating 2 pounds of it, just because it's there.
One of the worst signs of an alcohol problem is a change in personality. When I was drunk, I became hostile and angry. I tried to pick fist fights with my friends. I literally wanted to punch the snot out of anyone and everyone. If you know me in person, this concept is laughable. I am such a wuss that I won't even do wheelies on a bicycle. I have some friends who have never even seen me lose my temper. But when I drank, I turned into a psychotic bitch with the shortest fuse you've ever seen. It would take nothing to set me off.
As you can probably guess, denial plays a huge role in an alcoholic's life. Example thoughts:
"I am totally ok to drive." (Um, no, you're not!)
"That guy is HOT." (Riiiight)
"She's not that pissed at me. (Um, you just made out with her boyfriend.)
I look smokin' hot right now. "(Is that why your hair is plastered to your skull and you can't walk?)
"My skirt is totally covering my butt." (You just flashed an entire room of total strangers.)
"This party is awesome!" (...if by "awesome" you mean that you are the only person on the dance floor because it's 4am and the party is over.)
"I don't know. I guess someone stole my keys." (Actually, drunk ass, you dropped them somewhere.)
I did something else that my just seem like strange behavior, unless you too are someone familiar with alcoholism: I became extremely possessive with my alcohol. If I brought my own alcohol to a party, I would label it with my name, patrol the fridge to make sure no one stole it, and refuse to share so much as a sip with anyone. You see, I have the brain of an alcoholic, and the thought of running out of alcohol was terrifying to me, especially when I was under 21. This is why you hear of alcoholics hiding bottles everywhere. It's because they don't ever want to run out. Of course, I knew that hiding alcohol was a sign of alcoholism, so I fought the urge to do this. If I didn't hide it, I must not be an alcoholic, right?
I used to (and strangely enough, still do) pressure my friends to drink as much as I did. To an alcoholic's brain, as long as everyone else is drinking like you do, that means your relationship with alcohol is normal. If everyone's jumping off a bridge, then it must be an OK thing to do. This is why it's common to see an alcoholic hang out with other alcoholics. Now that I am sober, I have watched other alcoholics grow visibly uncomfortable around me, especially when I tell them that I am sober because of my alcoholic tendencies. Other alcoholics will often stop talking to me or pressure me to drink, even when I have said, "No, thank you" several times.
And I can spot an alcoholic ten miles away. Some people have gay-dar, I have alcoholic-dar. Now, I'm not as adamant about it as my mother, who honestly believes every third person on the planet is a raging alcoholic, but there are a lot of them out there. Some are like me, and become alcoholics from day one. Others cultivate their addiction over a period of decades. A few, like my grandmother, wait until a life-changing event (in her case, the death of her husband) happens. They turn to the bottle to soothe themselves. But I can always spot them, sometimes within minutes. Their actions are so familiar to me, it's like looking in a mirror.
Ten years ago today, my family came home from vacation to find me blitzed out of my mind. I had remained at home, claiming I had to work at my waitressing job, when really what I wanted to do was throw a huge keg party and spend the majority of the week finding my next drink. (Lying to loved ones takes a back seat to booze when you're an alcoholic.) After the parties were over, I had to clean up the house before they got home. Part of this cleaning involved disposing of the leftover alcohol. So I decided to have "just one" margarita while I cleaned up the house. It would be such a shame to pour the tequila down the drain. By the time my family got home, I was slurring my speech as I mopped the kitchen floor. My mother, a recovering alcoholic herself, knew instantly what was going on. To this day, the look on her face -- a mix of fear, anger and guilt -- haunts me. At that moment, I knew that I could not keep drinking and have a good relationship with my mother. I could not bear the thought of making her feel that way ever again.
That was the last time I ever drank. I quit in a very unusual way -- cold turkey, and without the assistance of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is VERY unusual, actually. I have never even been to an AA meeting, although I'm not saying I will never go to one. There is no cure for this disease.
I would be lying if I said that I never want to drink alcohol. I never tried gin or Midori before I quit, and I think melontinis and gin & tonics smell wonderful. I know I would have loved them. And yes, there are certain times when I miss the stress-relieving and social lubrication benefits of a drink. Luckily, I have found that Xanax and cigarettes are excellent substitutes. And (non-alcoholic) beer is now what I crave when I've had a long day. I guess you can take the alcohol out of the alcoholic, but not the alcoholic out of the alcohol aisle. The worst times are when I'm out with my girlfriends, because I do miss getting a little buzzy (ok, a LOT buzzy) with my girlfriends. I never did like looking sloppy drunk around guys. Not that it ever stopped me, back then. And I still fight the urge to escape reality, boredom and difficult emotions with substances. (Hello, Vicodin!)
But somehow, I have managed to say "No, thank you" to alcohol for the last ten years.
Go me.
If you recognize yourself or a loved one in any of my descriptions above, you might want to look at this quiz. A score of 8 or more indicates a possible problem with alcohol. My score was 19.
If you are doing the math, you are realizing that I did not drink on my 21st birthday. And that I quit drinking after my freshman year of college. I will add that I do not even sip champagne at New Year's or drink the wine at church.
A lot of people ask me how on earth I could have been an alcoholic at such a young age. The answer to this is that many alcoholics are born that way. In my family, it seems to be genetic: two grandparents, one parent, three siblings and several extended family members have all been afflicted with this disease. At least 2 have died in alcohol-related deaths. So whether I began drinking at age 16 or age 43, the results would have been the same: I have and will always have a problem controlling my drinking.
When I tell people that I really only drank for two years, they are even more confused. How did I realize I had a problem after only 2 years? After all, the majority of college freshmen are binge drinkers, especially on the weekends, and especially at large state universities. But by the time I was about 12, I had seen the effects of alcoholism on my family. Thanks to my mother's lectures and descriptions, I could rattle off the signs of an alcohol problem as easily as my multiplication tables.
By the time I was a senior in high school, alcohol was readily available to me, and like most young people, I was all about experimenting. Gradually, I began to see some bad signs...
Blackouts were my first sign that I may not have a normal and healthy relationship with alcohol. Yes, many novice alcohol drinkers have blackouts. But I was having them about once a month. And it wasn't like certain parts of the evening were hazy. I'm talking about the WHOLE NIGHT. Once, I woke up in my dorm room, dressed in party clothes, with a trashcan next to my bed and a concerned note from my friends. To this day, I do not even remember going out AT ALL. I have no idea what I did or where I was. Think about that. It's kind of scary to be that out of control.
If I wasn't blacking out entirely, I was drunk to the point that I had to be carried out of the party. At every party. Having "just two" didn't compute in my brain. Where's the fun in that? The whole goal of the evening is to reach the if-I-have-one-more-I-will-barf buzz and keep it as long as possible. Duh. But of course, I am an alcoholic, so the stopping point for me was always "just one more and I'll stop." Remember the girl at the frat party who was always found sitting on a step, slurring and crying and asking everyone for a cigarette? The one with barf all over her tank top and mascara smeared all over her face? Who had to be baby-sat by her girlfriends? That was me. Every weekend. And by weekend, I mean Wednesday thru Saturday nights. Alcoholics are always up for a party.
My ability to increase my tolerance for alcohol was frightening. By the end of my first semester in college, I could put down 10-12 beers. They were like soda pop to me. I weighed about 130 pounds. I was drinking this amount of beer in less than 2 hours. I'm no good at math, but it's pretty safe to say that I was far over the legal driving limit. I remember strategizing on Friday and Saturday nights, using complicated formulas to ensure maximum alcohol consumption: "Ok, if I don't eat anything between noon and six, and then eat as many breadsticks as I can an hour and a half before I leave to go out, I should be able to drink 2 extra beers before I barf." -- Who does that??? That is not normal!
It wasn't just the urge to drink as much as I possibly could, as quickly as I could. Just like any other alcoholic, I didn't give a rat's ass what the beverage was, I just wanted as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible. If you are a normal person, and you despise tequila, when you go to a party that serves nothing but tequila, you are probably going to drink water or soda pop all night. Not the alcoholic. They will think, "Crap. I hate tequila. This is going to suck." -- and then they will line up the shots and down ten of them before you can blink an eye! That makes absolutely no sense. It's like someone who hates broccoli eating 2 pounds of it, just because it's there.
One of the worst signs of an alcohol problem is a change in personality. When I was drunk, I became hostile and angry. I tried to pick fist fights with my friends. I literally wanted to punch the snot out of anyone and everyone. If you know me in person, this concept is laughable. I am such a wuss that I won't even do wheelies on a bicycle. I have some friends who have never even seen me lose my temper. But when I drank, I turned into a psychotic bitch with the shortest fuse you've ever seen. It would take nothing to set me off.
As you can probably guess, denial plays a huge role in an alcoholic's life. Example thoughts:
"I am totally ok to drive." (Um, no, you're not!)
"That guy is HOT." (Riiiight)
"She's not that pissed at me. (Um, you just made out with her boyfriend.)
I look smokin' hot right now. "(Is that why your hair is plastered to your skull and you can't walk?)
"My skirt is totally covering my butt." (You just flashed an entire room of total strangers.)
"This party is awesome!" (...if by "awesome" you mean that you are the only person on the dance floor because it's 4am and the party is over.)
"I don't know. I guess someone stole my keys." (Actually, drunk ass, you dropped them somewhere.)
I did something else that my just seem like strange behavior, unless you too are someone familiar with alcoholism: I became extremely possessive with my alcohol. If I brought my own alcohol to a party, I would label it with my name, patrol the fridge to make sure no one stole it, and refuse to share so much as a sip with anyone. You see, I have the brain of an alcoholic, and the thought of running out of alcohol was terrifying to me, especially when I was under 21. This is why you hear of alcoholics hiding bottles everywhere. It's because they don't ever want to run out. Of course, I knew that hiding alcohol was a sign of alcoholism, so I fought the urge to do this. If I didn't hide it, I must not be an alcoholic, right?
I used to (and strangely enough, still do) pressure my friends to drink as much as I did. To an alcoholic's brain, as long as everyone else is drinking like you do, that means your relationship with alcohol is normal. If everyone's jumping off a bridge, then it must be an OK thing to do. This is why it's common to see an alcoholic hang out with other alcoholics. Now that I am sober, I have watched other alcoholics grow visibly uncomfortable around me, especially when I tell them that I am sober because of my alcoholic tendencies. Other alcoholics will often stop talking to me or pressure me to drink, even when I have said, "No, thank you" several times.
And I can spot an alcoholic ten miles away. Some people have gay-dar, I have alcoholic-dar. Now, I'm not as adamant about it as my mother, who honestly believes every third person on the planet is a raging alcoholic, but there are a lot of them out there. Some are like me, and become alcoholics from day one. Others cultivate their addiction over a period of decades. A few, like my grandmother, wait until a life-changing event (in her case, the death of her husband) happens. They turn to the bottle to soothe themselves. But I can always spot them, sometimes within minutes. Their actions are so familiar to me, it's like looking in a mirror.
Ten years ago today, my family came home from vacation to find me blitzed out of my mind. I had remained at home, claiming I had to work at my waitressing job, when really what I wanted to do was throw a huge keg party and spend the majority of the week finding my next drink. (Lying to loved ones takes a back seat to booze when you're an alcoholic.) After the parties were over, I had to clean up the house before they got home. Part of this cleaning involved disposing of the leftover alcohol. So I decided to have "just one" margarita while I cleaned up the house. It would be such a shame to pour the tequila down the drain. By the time my family got home, I was slurring my speech as I mopped the kitchen floor. My mother, a recovering alcoholic herself, knew instantly what was going on. To this day, the look on her face -- a mix of fear, anger and guilt -- haunts me. At that moment, I knew that I could not keep drinking and have a good relationship with my mother. I could not bear the thought of making her feel that way ever again.
That was the last time I ever drank. I quit in a very unusual way -- cold turkey, and without the assistance of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is VERY unusual, actually. I have never even been to an AA meeting, although I'm not saying I will never go to one. There is no cure for this disease.
I would be lying if I said that I never want to drink alcohol. I never tried gin or Midori before I quit, and I think melontinis and gin & tonics smell wonderful. I know I would have loved them. And yes, there are certain times when I miss the stress-relieving and social lubrication benefits of a drink. Luckily, I have found that Xanax and cigarettes are excellent substitutes. And (non-alcoholic) beer is now what I crave when I've had a long day. I guess you can take the alcohol out of the alcoholic, but not the alcoholic out of the alcohol aisle. The worst times are when I'm out with my girlfriends, because I do miss getting a little buzzy (ok, a LOT buzzy) with my girlfriends. I never did like looking sloppy drunk around guys. Not that it ever stopped me, back then. And I still fight the urge to escape reality, boredom and difficult emotions with substances. (Hello, Vicodin!)
But somehow, I have managed to say "No, thank you" to alcohol for the last ten years.
Go me.
If you recognize yourself or a loved one in any of my descriptions above, you might want to look at this quiz. A score of 8 or more indicates a possible problem with alcohol. My score was 19.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
"L" Ready?
Get it? Har har.
I have a cold, and have been vegging out on my couch. That's why I've been MIA. But I feel a little better today, so I'll give you the weekend re-cap.
Friday night was rather uneventful, but Saturday was super fun.
We (me, KT, VW, CN and Stuck) all surprised MJ for her birthday. She had no idea we were all gathered together at her favorite restaurant to surprise her with a night of drunken debauchery. She thought she was just going out to dinner with VW.
We started at The Blue Marlin for dinner (her favorite restaurant) and had a chocolate-raspberry cake from Chocolate Nirvana Bakery for dessert. Mmmmmm!!!
CN felt awful, because as he and I were taking the cake to the restaurant, he had to slam on his brakes to avoid running a red light, causing the cake to fall off the seat of the car and get a little smushed on one side. He claims I was distracting him from his driving, but I deny this. I was merely wearing a low-cut top and patent leather stilettos. I can't help it if touching up my makeup in the vanity mirror almost causes traffic accidents. ;)
In actuality, he seriously almost killed us! At the last second, I shouted, "Sweetie!! That's a RED LIGHT!" He wasn't paying attention, I guess, because by the time we stopped, we were halfway into the intersection! It was pretty funny, because he teases me for being a crazy driver, but now I just say, "Well, at least I've never almost killed us."
Anyway, MJ didn't mind that her cake was a little smushed. She was just enjoying her birthday. She had no idea we were all surprising her or that we got her an ipod for her birthday.
Little did I know, she was about to give me a small surprise. During the course of the dinner conversation, she proceeds to mention that I was messed up on Vicodin on my first date with CN.
"What?" asked CN.
"Gee, thanks, MJ," I retorted sarcastically.
"You didn't tell him? I thought you told him!" she exclaimed.
"Nope. No I didn't tell him about that. But now I have to, I guess!" I said.
"I am so sorry. I thought you told him!" she said.
"It's ok," I said.
And then I proceeded to confess to CN that I was on Vicodin at the time of our first date, but didn't want to tell him out of fear that he would think I have an addiction to painkillers or something. I was worried that he would be upset, but he wasn't. WHEW!
"Why did you go out with me when you knew you were all messed up? Why not just stay home?" he said.
"Because I knew that if I didn't go out with you, you were the kind of guy who would never ask me out again. I had to say yes!" I explained.
"Oh. Well, that's true. I probably wouldn't have," he conceded.
"See?" I said.
Then I told him how difficult it was for me to get ready and focus on dinner conversation when I'm on Vicodin, and he just laughed. I explained to him why I took it that evening and that I don't do it all the time or anything. I also said that it should show him how much I wanted to go out with him -- I spent a good deal of the night feeling nauseous!
MJ apologized to me later and said that she felt awful for letting the cat out of the bag. But it ended up being no big deal, and now he teases me about it.
We went back to our dinner. The chocolate cake was fantastic. After dinner, we proceeded to get MJ good n drunk.
She only remembers bits and pieces of the evening. She doesn't remember how KT and I made fun of her drunken walking. She doesn't remember sulking and pretending to cry whenever someone didn't do what she wanted. She doesn't remember falling down a couple of times. She doesn't remember flashing most of the crowd at Local's as she climbed up onto the bar to receive her free birthday shot. She doesn't remember crashing into a table and breaking several empty glasses, causing us to get kicked out of Bar None.
Needless to say, we all had a really fun time and didn't get home until about 3am.
That's when I got called out again. (What was it? Pick on VB day??) CN and I were driving home when he asked me a very blunt question.
"Hey, when we were at Local's, and you were all touchy-feely on me, were you only doing that because your ex-boyfriend was there? Because if that's the case, it doesn't make me feel good." he said.
Shit. Ummm.....
You see, as soon as MJ said she wanted to go to Local's, I thought, "Uh-oh. That's where Repo goes all the time. He will probably be there." But I didn't want to protest, because it was MJ's birthday. So I said ok, knowing full well what would happen: If Repo was there, I would probably try to rub it in his face that I am in a very happy relationship now.
That's exactly what happened, and that's exactly what I did.* And now, I was being called out on it. Shit. I totally deserved to be called out. I was immature and selfish and behaved totally inappropriately.
So I told him that I was only human and that yes, that was part of it. I told him I pretty much knew what was going to happen once I got there. But since it was very crowded in there, it was that much easier to be physical on the dance floor. My intentions were only halfway bad.
I can't remember exactly what CN said, but it was along the lines of, "Don't do that again. It made me feel like shit." -- a message I heard loud and clear. Commence massive guilt trip. We agreed that maybe we shouldn't go to Local's anymore. Not only because of Repo, but also because CN started to get a panic attack while we were there -- he doesn't do well with crowds.
At this point, not only was I dealing with a massive guilt trip, but now I was worried that I am going to screw up this relationship with my stupid decisions. I am going to ruin everything, because I am a moron. Crap!
So I told him I was going to take a quick shower, get into my pjs and then come over. He said ok.
Twenty minutes later, we were snuggling and talking in his bed. That's when he told me that he's falling in love with me.
WHAT?
Yeah. With me, the immature girl who uses him to try and make an ex jealous, the girl who takes Vicodin recreationally. Is he crazy? I am obviously a shitty girlfriend!
I said, "Um, really?" -- I was so shocked, this was all I could say. I was practically speechless.
"Yeah. I just haven't felt like this about anyone in a really, really long time. I have very strong feelings for you, and I just wanted to tell you because I think it's good to do that," he said.
Aw.
"But.....Sweetie, we haven't been dating that long. That's kind of...soon. I mean, I am charming, and all...." I joked.
"Yeah, I know. But that's how I feel," he replied.
"I really care about you, too. I mean, I'm not there yet, but I'm definitely on my way....are you mad that I didn't say it back?" I asked, worried. (I don't believe in using the "L" word unless you mean it. And even though I am almost ready to say those three little words, I am not quite there yet.)
"Whoa, I didn't say I was in love with you, just that I feel like I am headed in that direction!" he said.
"Are you back-pedaling???" I giggled.
"No. But I do really really care about you," he said.
Aw. Alright, I'm not sharing the rest of the conversation, because it was entirely too schmoopy and sappy, and it involved me crying, so let's just not go there, ok? Ok. Let's just say that the last bit of it went like this:
CN: Are we just going to sit here complimenting each other all night, or are we going to go to sleep?
Me: Oh. *giggle* Yeah, I guess we should go to bed now. I'm pretty tired, and it's probably like 4am.
*smooch!*
*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....*
So what do you think? Was CN back-pedaling? Do you think he's in The Big L with me? Or is it too soon? Was I out of line at Local's? Wouldn't it have been weirder if I had ignored CN when we were at Local's? Will I ever grow up and stop screwing things up with CN? What should I do to remedy this situation/loss of trust? And finally, am I indeed going to Hell? Or do I just deserve to get smacked?
Your thoughts and comments are appreciated, as always, dear readers.
* I would like to add that Repo looked like shit. He has gained so much weight since we broke up and he looked miserable! He looked like he was really down/depressed. He definitely saw me with my new boyfriend, and I could tell it bothered him. Plus, thanks to the grapevine that is Columbia, I'm pretty sure he and his girlfriend broke up. And I can't say that I didn't get a teeny bit of satisfaction from that.....ugh, I am terrible, I know. I'm going to hell. I am slowly learning to accept this fact.
I have a cold, and have been vegging out on my couch. That's why I've been MIA. But I feel a little better today, so I'll give you the weekend re-cap.
Friday night was rather uneventful, but Saturday was super fun.
We (me, KT, VW, CN and Stuck) all surprised MJ for her birthday. She had no idea we were all gathered together at her favorite restaurant to surprise her with a night of drunken debauchery. She thought she was just going out to dinner with VW.
We started at The Blue Marlin for dinner (her favorite restaurant) and had a chocolate-raspberry cake from Chocolate Nirvana Bakery for dessert. Mmmmmm!!!
CN felt awful, because as he and I were taking the cake to the restaurant, he had to slam on his brakes to avoid running a red light, causing the cake to fall off the seat of the car and get a little smushed on one side. He claims I was distracting him from his driving, but I deny this. I was merely wearing a low-cut top and patent leather stilettos. I can't help it if touching up my makeup in the vanity mirror almost causes traffic accidents. ;)
In actuality, he seriously almost killed us! At the last second, I shouted, "Sweetie!! That's a RED LIGHT!" He wasn't paying attention, I guess, because by the time we stopped, we were halfway into the intersection! It was pretty funny, because he teases me for being a crazy driver, but now I just say, "Well, at least I've never almost killed us."
Anyway, MJ didn't mind that her cake was a little smushed. She was just enjoying her birthday. She had no idea we were all surprising her or that we got her an ipod for her birthday.
Little did I know, she was about to give me a small surprise. During the course of the dinner conversation, she proceeds to mention that I was messed up on Vicodin on my first date with CN.
"What?" asked CN.
"Gee, thanks, MJ," I retorted sarcastically.
"You didn't tell him? I thought you told him!" she exclaimed.
"Nope. No I didn't tell him about that. But now I have to, I guess!" I said.
"I am so sorry. I thought you told him!" she said.
"It's ok," I said.
And then I proceeded to confess to CN that I was on Vicodin at the time of our first date, but didn't want to tell him out of fear that he would think I have an addiction to painkillers or something. I was worried that he would be upset, but he wasn't. WHEW!
"Why did you go out with me when you knew you were all messed up? Why not just stay home?" he said.
"Because I knew that if I didn't go out with you, you were the kind of guy who would never ask me out again. I had to say yes!" I explained.
"Oh. Well, that's true. I probably wouldn't have," he conceded.
"See?" I said.
Then I told him how difficult it was for me to get ready and focus on dinner conversation when I'm on Vicodin, and he just laughed. I explained to him why I took it that evening and that I don't do it all the time or anything. I also said that it should show him how much I wanted to go out with him -- I spent a good deal of the night feeling nauseous!
MJ apologized to me later and said that she felt awful for letting the cat out of the bag. But it ended up being no big deal, and now he teases me about it.
We went back to our dinner. The chocolate cake was fantastic. After dinner, we proceeded to get MJ good n drunk.
She only remembers bits and pieces of the evening. She doesn't remember how KT and I made fun of her drunken walking. She doesn't remember sulking and pretending to cry whenever someone didn't do what she wanted. She doesn't remember falling down a couple of times. She doesn't remember flashing most of the crowd at Local's as she climbed up onto the bar to receive her free birthday shot. She doesn't remember crashing into a table and breaking several empty glasses, causing us to get kicked out of Bar None.
Needless to say, we all had a really fun time and didn't get home until about 3am.
That's when I got called out again. (What was it? Pick on VB day??) CN and I were driving home when he asked me a very blunt question.
"Hey, when we were at Local's, and you were all touchy-feely on me, were you only doing that because your ex-boyfriend was there? Because if that's the case, it doesn't make me feel good." he said.
Shit. Ummm.....
You see, as soon as MJ said she wanted to go to Local's, I thought, "Uh-oh. That's where Repo goes all the time. He will probably be there." But I didn't want to protest, because it was MJ's birthday. So I said ok, knowing full well what would happen: If Repo was there, I would probably try to rub it in his face that I am in a very happy relationship now.
That's exactly what happened, and that's exactly what I did.* And now, I was being called out on it. Shit. I totally deserved to be called out. I was immature and selfish and behaved totally inappropriately.
So I told him that I was only human and that yes, that was part of it. I told him I pretty much knew what was going to happen once I got there. But since it was very crowded in there, it was that much easier to be physical on the dance floor. My intentions were only halfway bad.
I can't remember exactly what CN said, but it was along the lines of, "Don't do that again. It made me feel like shit." -- a message I heard loud and clear. Commence massive guilt trip. We agreed that maybe we shouldn't go to Local's anymore. Not only because of Repo, but also because CN started to get a panic attack while we were there -- he doesn't do well with crowds.
At this point, not only was I dealing with a massive guilt trip, but now I was worried that I am going to screw up this relationship with my stupid decisions. I am going to ruin everything, because I am a moron. Crap!
So I told him I was going to take a quick shower, get into my pjs and then come over. He said ok.
Twenty minutes later, we were snuggling and talking in his bed. That's when he told me that he's falling in love with me.
WHAT?
Yeah. With me, the immature girl who uses him to try and make an ex jealous, the girl who takes Vicodin recreationally. Is he crazy? I am obviously a shitty girlfriend!
I said, "Um, really?" -- I was so shocked, this was all I could say. I was practically speechless.
"Yeah. I just haven't felt like this about anyone in a really, really long time. I have very strong feelings for you, and I just wanted to tell you because I think it's good to do that," he said.
Aw.
"But.....Sweetie, we haven't been dating that long. That's kind of...soon. I mean, I am charming, and all...." I joked.
"Yeah, I know. But that's how I feel," he replied.
"I really care about you, too. I mean, I'm not there yet, but I'm definitely on my way....are you mad that I didn't say it back?" I asked, worried. (I don't believe in using the "L" word unless you mean it. And even though I am almost ready to say those three little words, I am not quite there yet.)
"Whoa, I didn't say I was in love with you, just that I feel like I am headed in that direction!" he said.
"Are you back-pedaling???" I giggled.
"No. But I do really really care about you," he said.
Aw. Alright, I'm not sharing the rest of the conversation, because it was entirely too schmoopy and sappy, and it involved me crying, so let's just not go there, ok? Ok. Let's just say that the last bit of it went like this:
CN: Are we just going to sit here complimenting each other all night, or are we going to go to sleep?
Me: Oh. *giggle* Yeah, I guess we should go to bed now. I'm pretty tired, and it's probably like 4am.
*smooch!*
*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....*
So what do you think? Was CN back-pedaling? Do you think he's in The Big L with me? Or is it too soon? Was I out of line at Local's? Wouldn't it have been weirder if I had ignored CN when we were at Local's? Will I ever grow up and stop screwing things up with CN? What should I do to remedy this situation/loss of trust? And finally, am I indeed going to Hell? Or do I just deserve to get smacked?
Your thoughts and comments are appreciated, as always, dear readers.
* I would like to add that Repo looked like shit. He has gained so much weight since we broke up and he looked miserable! He looked like he was really down/depressed. He definitely saw me with my new boyfriend, and I could tell it bothered him. Plus, thanks to the grapevine that is Columbia, I'm pretty sure he and his girlfriend broke up. And I can't say that I didn't get a teeny bit of satisfaction from that.....ugh, I am terrible, I know. I'm going to hell. I am slowly learning to accept this fact.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Overexposed
Time: Yesterday afternoon
Place: Victoria's Secret
Yours truly was taking advantage of their fall sale.
After rummaging around in their totally unorganized bins (SO irritating to look through! What happened to the tables organized by size???), I had an armful of bras to try on. I headed to the dressing room.
Bra after bra was disqualified: too big, too small, too complicated, made my boobs look funny, not supportive enough...etc.
But the last bra....well, that was a different story. It was supportive, easy to put on, relatively comfortable, fit well......and it was dead sexy. A black lace bra, hot enough to put the rest of my bras to shame.
"Hmmm...." I thought, with a sly little smile on my lips. "I know someone who might like to see this...."
And I whipped out my cell phone. I was going to take a little preview pic and send it to CN via the wonders of modern technology.
"Click!" said the camera.
"*Giggle*" said I.
"Send!" said the button.
"Message sent!" said the phone.
I got dressed again and went out to get in line to pay. As I was leaving the store, I realized it had been a few minutes, and I hadn't heard from CN. Not to flatter myself, but I was expecting SOME kind of a reaction.
"Hmmm...maybe his phone isn't equipped to receive pictures, because he must have gotten it..." I thought. "Right???"
Oh.
God.
I quickly fumbled around in my purse, frantically searching for my phone. I grabbed it, opened it up and began looking at my text message history.
"Oh-my-gawd-if-I-sent-that-to-the-wrong-person-I-will-die!!!!" I thought.
WHEW. I sent it to CN and only CN.
So why hadn't he replied or reacted in any way??? I mean, I'm not taking jetty shots in the dressing room for my health! Argh.
I got home and began baking some pumpkin bread for CN's dad (he's sick, remember). I glanced out my kitchen window -- CN's friend The Runner was over at his house. They were probably watching football. By the time I had the pumpkin bread in the oven, The Runner had left.
My phone beeped -- I had a new text message from CN.
"Well, it's about time," I thought.
I opened the message:
"The Runner liked your boobs."
!!!!!
I figured he was kidding, so I told him he was in big trouble for showing the pic to The Runner. A little later, CN came over to get the pumpkin bread, and he filled me in on what had happened.
"Yeah, um, The Runner was helping me get my tv cables all figured out, because we were playing video games, and he was actually sitting RIGHT next to me when you sent that pic to my phone. I took my phone out of my pocket when you sent the pic. So um....he saw it. Kinda...." CN trailed off.
*shock and disbelief on my part*
"WHAT????!!!" I shouted.
"Oh, and I know he saw it, because he took one look at it and asked me: 'Um, do you need me to leave so you can take care of that?' " CN continued.
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
I turned beet red. I will never be able to look The Runner in the eye again. I began wailing at my own bad judgement. Stupid, stupid, stupid VB. Dumb idea. Dumb, dumb, dumb!!!!
"It's ok! Don't be embarrassed! It's not a big deal! Just give me a heads up next time, ok?" CN said, trying to make me feel better. "But hey, would you care if I set my phone so that's the photo that comes up on my phone every time you call me?"
Oh for Pete's sake.....
Place: Victoria's Secret
Yours truly was taking advantage of their fall sale.
After rummaging around in their totally unorganized bins (SO irritating to look through! What happened to the tables organized by size???), I had an armful of bras to try on. I headed to the dressing room.
Bra after bra was disqualified: too big, too small, too complicated, made my boobs look funny, not supportive enough...etc.
But the last bra....well, that was a different story. It was supportive, easy to put on, relatively comfortable, fit well......and it was dead sexy. A black lace bra, hot enough to put the rest of my bras to shame.
"Hmmm...." I thought, with a sly little smile on my lips. "I know someone who might like to see this...."
And I whipped out my cell phone. I was going to take a little preview pic and send it to CN via the wonders of modern technology.
"Click!" said the camera.
"*Giggle*" said I.
"Send!" said the button.
"Message sent!" said the phone.
I got dressed again and went out to get in line to pay. As I was leaving the store, I realized it had been a few minutes, and I hadn't heard from CN. Not to flatter myself, but I was expecting SOME kind of a reaction.
"Hmmm...maybe his phone isn't equipped to receive pictures, because he must have gotten it..." I thought. "Right???"
Oh.
God.
I quickly fumbled around in my purse, frantically searching for my phone. I grabbed it, opened it up and began looking at my text message history.
"Oh-my-gawd-if-I-sent-that-to-the-wrong-person-I-will-die!!!!" I thought.
WHEW. I sent it to CN and only CN.
So why hadn't he replied or reacted in any way??? I mean, I'm not taking jetty shots in the dressing room for my health! Argh.
I got home and began baking some pumpkin bread for CN's dad (he's sick, remember). I glanced out my kitchen window -- CN's friend The Runner was over at his house. They were probably watching football. By the time I had the pumpkin bread in the oven, The Runner had left.
My phone beeped -- I had a new text message from CN.
"Well, it's about time," I thought.
I opened the message:
"The Runner liked your boobs."
!!!!!
I figured he was kidding, so I told him he was in big trouble for showing the pic to The Runner. A little later, CN came over to get the pumpkin bread, and he filled me in on what had happened.
"Yeah, um, The Runner was helping me get my tv cables all figured out, because we were playing video games, and he was actually sitting RIGHT next to me when you sent that pic to my phone. I took my phone out of my pocket when you sent the pic. So um....he saw it. Kinda...." CN trailed off.
*shock and disbelief on my part*
"WHAT????!!!" I shouted.
"Oh, and I know he saw it, because he took one look at it and asked me: 'Um, do you need me to leave so you can take care of that?' " CN continued.
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
I turned beet red. I will never be able to look The Runner in the eye again. I began wailing at my own bad judgement. Stupid, stupid, stupid VB. Dumb idea. Dumb, dumb, dumb!!!!
"It's ok! Don't be embarrassed! It's not a big deal! Just give me a heads up next time, ok?" CN said, trying to make me feel better. "But hey, would you care if I set my phone so that's the photo that comes up on my phone every time you call me?"
Oh for Pete's sake.....
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Back to the Drawing Board
Chaotic.
That is the word I would use to describe my life right now. Isn't that also the name of the Britney/K-Fed reality show? I think it is. Don't worry, I haven't shaved my head or anything. Not that I haven't thought about doing it, considering the high number of bad hair days I've been having lately.
It's been one thing after another, these past few weeks. I've got trips and parties and get-togethers and time off, all things which are making me super-busy. I need a vacation from my vacation! *sigh*
Add to that: work has been a little busier than usual, insomnia for two nights straight, medical issues and being broke.
I am so exhausted and have so many things floating around in my brain, this post will probably be choppy. I feel like I'm losing my mind, and after you read this post, I'm certain you will agree.
Where to begin? Hmmm. Let's start with catheters in my bladder. Who doesn't want to read about that? The good news is, it didn't hurt a bit. Seriously, it was no sweat. But I can tell it's one of those procedures (like, say, drawing blood) where, if the person doesn't know what they are doing, it would hurt like crazy. I lucked out.
The bad news is, there is still too much protein in my pee. So I am awaiting my referral to a urologist. Which means: $$$$$$ and probably more catheters. Oh the joy.
I just keep repeating to myself: I. Do. Not. Want. A. Kidney. Stone.
And since I don't want any cavities either, I went to the dentist yesterday. "Oh, I see we have to update your x-rays today!" said the hygienist. I thought, "Oh.....crap. $$$$$$$$$$$" And then, as she was cleaning, and lecturing me about how I am not brushing OR flossing enough/properly, I thought, "I am paying this woman to not only torture me, but to also give me a guilt trip second only to The Czarina's."
Then she hit below the belt: "So, Virginia..........do you smoke?"
Fuckfuckcrapitycrap.
"Yes, sometimes..." I confessed, weakly.
"I can tell. There's some stain discoloration," she deadpanned.
Ugh! What is it with these people?! As if just paying someone to scrape your teeth with metal utensils isn't bad enough, they have to throw in a guilt trip, too. I bet that's a course they take in dental hygiene school: "Guilt Tripping 101" -- it was probably taught by my mother. If I were a dog, my tail would be between my legs during every trip to the dentist. I think people who work there are actually BDSMers in white lab coats, who have managed to figure out a way to support themselves by preying on the phobias of the general public.
After an hour of scraping and scratching, I was finally free to go. Ashamed of myself, I collected the fragments of my dignity and walked out to the front desk. "That's it. I have reached the end of dental humiliation. I'm going to be Superstar Tooth Nazi until my next appointment! And quit smoking, too!!" I thought.
"Ok, that will be $105.00," said the receptionist.
There is a direct relationship between my age and the level of unpleasantness experienced at the dentist's office. Now, not only does it hurt my gumline, it hurts my wallet, too. Oh how I miss the days of my childhood, when a trip to the dentist's office meant only that I got to play with the giant, toy teeth and give the hygienists heart attacks with my sudden fits of giggling. (You see, I have extremely ticklish gums, and when they'd polish my teeth, I would erupt into uncontrollable laughter. I still do it, sometimes.)
Speaking of laughter, I had Lasagna Night on Sunday. MJ, KT, Mr. & Mrs. Bill, J-Rich and Mack Daddy came. We had such a good time. I don't think anyone went to bed hungry! We had a really good time. The only downside was that Cute Neighbor never showed. He never came over to tell me he couldn't make it, and he hasn't come over to apologize for being MIA, either. I find this very rude. Not to mention, a little insulting: it's not like it would be a ton of effort for him to tell me. He wouldn't even have to get into his car.
I don't get it. If your diet consists mainly of Healthy Choice frozen dinners (he told me that's pretty much all he eats), and your cute & single neighbor invites you over for a free, homemade meal, and all you have to do is basically fall out of your front door and grab a fork, then what is the problem? I mean, even if you aren't interested in her romantically, at the very least, you're getting a free dinner. And free beer. Men make no sense to me. And I think I've hit a new low in my pathetic dating life: guys won't even get up off their couches to mooch free food from me. WOW. I am, apparently, just that repulsive.
So, it's back to the drawing board again.
Speaking of drawing....MJ invited me to an art show this past weekend. Four local artists displayed their work, and there was even one piece on which all four of them collaborated. It was fantastic. All four artists have different styles, but their styles meshed well together. MJ's dating The Artist, and his art is....really just incredible stuff. You have to look at the pieces for a looooong time before you can soak it all in. It's been described as "post-modern", but I would describe it more as "Picasso meets Dali meets Pollock meets Dr. Seuss". Normally, I don't "get" modern art, but I really dug his stuff. I wish I had a little extra money lying around, because I would buy something from him. I wish I could find some pictures of his stuff online so I could show you some of his work, but I'll have to let you imagine it from my description above. (MJ-- you need to tell him to set up a flickr account or something!)
We are slowly but surely getting our details worked out for our NYC/Vermont trip next week. I am still so excited, I'm about to burst! Want to see what we've got lined up so far? Here is a photo quiz. Can you guess?
This sounds really stupid, but I'm actually really excited to ride on the subway. And to take the train to Vermont. There isn't much public transportation in SC. So this will be really interesting to me. Heck, this will only be the 5th or 6th airplane trip I've ever been on, so even that will be fun! I'm one of those weird people who gets waaaaay too excited to get on airplanes. I even like the food.
I have always defined a vacation as: "Going somewhere, other than a conference or my mother's house, which requires me to board an airplane to get there." By that definition, this will be my first vacation since Rome, Italy in 2000.
I told MJ I would embarrass her in NYC by asking every waitress/waiter if the restaurant serves grits or mashed sweet potatoes. If she doesn't want me to do this, she should keep my mouth full of some of that delicious NY-style pizza. Mmmmmmmmmmmm......can't wait.
But instead, I think I will stare straight up as we walk down the streets, proclaiming in the thickest of Southern accents, "Well, gaaaaawlee, I ain't never seen no buildin' that high! Shucks!" -- Huh. That came out more like Gomer Pyle. Perhaps I will practice my impression before I get on the plane......I will charm the pants off them "city folk". Hopefully, the cute and single ones.
Oh man. One can only hope......de-panting hotties is one of my favorite things to do......*daydreams*
I have no clue what to pack. I'm tempted to bring nothing but stilettos and cocktail dresses, but I'm sure that's entirely inappropriate. LOL But aren't I supposed to look like this in order to fit in?
I certainly don't want to look like this.....*shudders*
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before I go to NYC and Vermont, I am being visited by....
The Czarina. *cue Darth Vader theme song*
And Smurf and Czarina's Best Friend are coming, too. They will serve as a no-fly-zone, because otherwise, The Czarina and I would drive each other bonkers. We need referees when we hang out.
The good news is, she wants to buy me some stuff for my house. And I think (fingers crossed, people!) that I can talk her into giving me some money for my NYC trip. Because, if she doesn't, I might have to dig through NYC garbage cans to find something to eat. Oh well. It will be good for the diet if I don't eat for 5 days, right? Maybe I can just eat hot dogs from those street vendors.....
Where was I? Oh yes. The Czarina is coming, with her best friend and my little sister in tow. She hasn't been to Columbia since the day I moved here, 5 years ago, almost to the day. She finally gets to see my house. We will be decorating mi casa, which is nice. We will be visiting some local historic homes and dining out at some of my favorite restaurants, like this one and this one. They will get to meet my coworkers and some of my friends. I think I will give them a little tour of my favorite spots in town. I am thinking we should probably hit the Columbia Museum of Art, since they just got a couple of Renoirs on loan from Chicago, and they have recently expanded their late-Renaissance Dutch painting collection.
And what are my favorite kinds of paintings?????
Anything by Renoir and anything Dutch.
In order to prepare for their visit, I have to take deep breaths, have a cigarette binge, practice nodding my head and saying, "Yes, Mom, you are absolutely right!" and clean my room. I have also stocked up on The Czarina's favorite diet foods:
Eggbeaters
apples
low-fat cheddar cheese
diet tonic water
oatmeal
low-fat cottage cheese
whole wheat bread
bagged lettuce
Ugh. No wonder she's always so cranky. Wouldn't you be, if that was what you ate, 90% of the time? And she wonders why I cannot lose weight. It's because I'd rather be fat than eat that stuff, day in and day out. But this topic deserves its own post, so I will stop there with that little difference in opinion between mother and daughter.
Which reminds me......I need to hide all my "bad" stuff: twizzlers, oreos, birth control pills, ashtray & cigarettes....what am I forgetting?? Oh, those condoms in my purse....which were actually a gag gift, I swear on all things holy......I know you don't believe me, but they were. I just laughed at my friend W's joke and absent-mindedly stuck them in my purse. Oh, come on! You have to believe me. Like I'd even get a chance to use those things, at the rate I'm going. [See paragraph about Cute Neighbor, above.]
The Czarina will be here tomorrow afternoon. So I don't know how often I'll be able to post until she leaves on Sunday. This long-ass, rambling post will probably have to do ya for a few days.
That is the word I would use to describe my life right now. Isn't that also the name of the Britney/K-Fed reality show? I think it is. Don't worry, I haven't shaved my head or anything. Not that I haven't thought about doing it, considering the high number of bad hair days I've been having lately.
It's been one thing after another, these past few weeks. I've got trips and parties and get-togethers and time off, all things which are making me super-busy. I need a vacation from my vacation! *sigh*
Add to that: work has been a little busier than usual, insomnia for two nights straight, medical issues and being broke.
I am so exhausted and have so many things floating around in my brain, this post will probably be choppy. I feel like I'm losing my mind, and after you read this post, I'm certain you will agree.
Where to begin? Hmmm. Let's start with catheters in my bladder. Who doesn't want to read about that? The good news is, it didn't hurt a bit. Seriously, it was no sweat. But I can tell it's one of those procedures (like, say, drawing blood) where, if the person doesn't know what they are doing, it would hurt like crazy. I lucked out.
The bad news is, there is still too much protein in my pee. So I am awaiting my referral to a urologist. Which means: $$$$$$ and probably more catheters. Oh the joy.
I just keep repeating to myself: I. Do. Not. Want. A. Kidney. Stone.
And since I don't want any cavities either, I went to the dentist yesterday. "Oh, I see we have to update your x-rays today!" said the hygienist. I thought, "Oh.....crap. $$$$$$$$$$$" And then, as she was cleaning, and lecturing me about how I am not brushing OR flossing enough/properly, I thought, "I am paying this woman to not only torture me, but to also give me a guilt trip second only to The Czarina's."
Then she hit below the belt: "So, Virginia..........do you smoke?"
Fuckfuckcrapitycrap.
"Yes, sometimes..." I confessed, weakly.
"I can tell. There's some stain discoloration," she deadpanned.
Ugh! What is it with these people?! As if just paying someone to scrape your teeth with metal utensils isn't bad enough, they have to throw in a guilt trip, too. I bet that's a course they take in dental hygiene school: "Guilt Tripping 101" -- it was probably taught by my mother. If I were a dog, my tail would be between my legs during every trip to the dentist. I think people who work there are actually BDSMers in white lab coats, who have managed to figure out a way to support themselves by preying on the phobias of the general public.
After an hour of scraping and scratching, I was finally free to go. Ashamed of myself, I collected the fragments of my dignity and walked out to the front desk. "That's it. I have reached the end of dental humiliation. I'm going to be Superstar Tooth Nazi until my next appointment! And quit smoking, too!!" I thought.
"Ok, that will be $105.00," said the receptionist.
There is a direct relationship between my age and the level of unpleasantness experienced at the dentist's office. Now, not only does it hurt my gumline, it hurts my wallet, too. Oh how I miss the days of my childhood, when a trip to the dentist's office meant only that I got to play with the giant, toy teeth and give the hygienists heart attacks with my sudden fits of giggling. (You see, I have extremely ticklish gums, and when they'd polish my teeth, I would erupt into uncontrollable laughter. I still do it, sometimes.)
Speaking of laughter, I had Lasagna Night on Sunday. MJ, KT, Mr. & Mrs. Bill, J-Rich and Mack Daddy came. We had such a good time. I don't think anyone went to bed hungry! We had a really good time. The only downside was that Cute Neighbor never showed. He never came over to tell me he couldn't make it, and he hasn't come over to apologize for being MIA, either. I find this very rude. Not to mention, a little insulting: it's not like it would be a ton of effort for him to tell me. He wouldn't even have to get into his car.
I don't get it. If your diet consists mainly of Healthy Choice frozen dinners (he told me that's pretty much all he eats), and your cute & single neighbor invites you over for a free, homemade meal, and all you have to do is basically fall out of your front door and grab a fork, then what is the problem? I mean, even if you aren't interested in her romantically, at the very least, you're getting a free dinner. And free beer. Men make no sense to me. And I think I've hit a new low in my pathetic dating life: guys won't even get up off their couches to mooch free food from me. WOW. I am, apparently, just that repulsive.
So, it's back to the drawing board again.
Speaking of drawing....MJ invited me to an art show this past weekend. Four local artists displayed their work, and there was even one piece on which all four of them collaborated. It was fantastic. All four artists have different styles, but their styles meshed well together. MJ's dating The Artist, and his art is....really just incredible stuff. You have to look at the pieces for a looooong time before you can soak it all in. It's been described as "post-modern", but I would describe it more as "Picasso meets Dali meets Pollock meets Dr. Seuss". Normally, I don't "get" modern art, but I really dug his stuff. I wish I had a little extra money lying around, because I would buy something from him. I wish I could find some pictures of his stuff online so I could show you some of his work, but I'll have to let you imagine it from my description above. (MJ-- you need to tell him to set up a flickr account or something!)
We are slowly but surely getting our details worked out for our NYC/Vermont trip next week. I am still so excited, I'm about to burst! Want to see what we've got lined up so far? Here is a photo quiz. Can you guess?
This sounds really stupid, but I'm actually really excited to ride on the subway. And to take the train to Vermont. There isn't much public transportation in SC. So this will be really interesting to me. Heck, this will only be the 5th or 6th airplane trip I've ever been on, so even that will be fun! I'm one of those weird people who gets waaaaay too excited to get on airplanes. I even like the food.
I have always defined a vacation as: "Going somewhere, other than a conference or my mother's house, which requires me to board an airplane to get there." By that definition, this will be my first vacation since Rome, Italy in 2000.
I told MJ I would embarrass her in NYC by asking every waitress/waiter if the restaurant serves grits or mashed sweet potatoes. If she doesn't want me to do this, she should keep my mouth full of some of that delicious NY-style pizza. Mmmmmmmmmmmm......can't wait.
But instead, I think I will stare straight up as we walk down the streets, proclaiming in the thickest of Southern accents, "Well, gaaaaawlee, I ain't never seen no buildin' that high! Shucks!" -- Huh. That came out more like Gomer Pyle. Perhaps I will practice my impression before I get on the plane......I will charm the pants off them "city folk". Hopefully, the cute and single ones.
Oh man. One can only hope......de-panting hotties is one of my favorite things to do......*daydreams*
I have no clue what to pack. I'm tempted to bring nothing but stilettos and cocktail dresses, but I'm sure that's entirely inappropriate. LOL But aren't I supposed to look like this in order to fit in?
I certainly don't want to look like this.....*shudders*
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before I go to NYC and Vermont, I am being visited by....
The Czarina. *cue Darth Vader theme song*
And Smurf and Czarina's Best Friend are coming, too. They will serve as a no-fly-zone, because otherwise, The Czarina and I would drive each other bonkers. We need referees when we hang out.
The good news is, she wants to buy me some stuff for my house. And I think (fingers crossed, people!) that I can talk her into giving me some money for my NYC trip. Because, if she doesn't, I might have to dig through NYC garbage cans to find something to eat. Oh well. It will be good for the diet if I don't eat for 5 days, right? Maybe I can just eat hot dogs from those street vendors.....
Where was I? Oh yes. The Czarina is coming, with her best friend and my little sister in tow. She hasn't been to Columbia since the day I moved here, 5 years ago, almost to the day. She finally gets to see my house. We will be decorating mi casa, which is nice. We will be visiting some local historic homes and dining out at some of my favorite restaurants, like this one and this one. They will get to meet my coworkers and some of my friends. I think I will give them a little tour of my favorite spots in town. I am thinking we should probably hit the Columbia Museum of Art, since they just got a couple of Renoirs on loan from Chicago, and they have recently expanded their late-Renaissance Dutch painting collection.
And what are my favorite kinds of paintings?????
Anything by Renoir and anything Dutch.
In order to prepare for their visit, I have to take deep breaths, have a cigarette binge, practice nodding my head and saying, "Yes, Mom, you are absolutely right!" and clean my room. I have also stocked up on The Czarina's favorite diet foods:
Eggbeaters
apples
low-fat cheddar cheese
diet tonic water
oatmeal
low-fat cottage cheese
whole wheat bread
bagged lettuce
Ugh. No wonder she's always so cranky. Wouldn't you be, if that was what you ate, 90% of the time? And she wonders why I cannot lose weight. It's because I'd rather be fat than eat that stuff, day in and day out. But this topic deserves its own post, so I will stop there with that little difference in opinion between mother and daughter.
Which reminds me......I need to hide all my "bad" stuff: twizzlers, oreos, birth control pills, ashtray & cigarettes....what am I forgetting?? Oh, those condoms in my purse....which were actually a gag gift, I swear on all things holy......I know you don't believe me, but they were. I just laughed at my friend W's joke and absent-mindedly stuck them in my purse. Oh, come on! You have to believe me. Like I'd even get a chance to use those things, at the rate I'm going. [See paragraph about Cute Neighbor, above.]
The Czarina will be here tomorrow afternoon. So I don't know how often I'll be able to post until she leaves on Sunday. This long-ass, rambling post will probably have to do ya for a few days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
