Forks in the Road

Lately, everywhere I turn, I am faced with choices. Not just chocolate-or-vanilla choices. These are big, life-changing choices. I pride myself on being a decisive person (sometimes, too decisive...), but this sudden deluge is making me ponder my life on a grand scale.

My previous supervisor quit last September, which totally stunk. We all miss him. His position is still vacant, and I am qualified for it. He has been encouraging me to apply and has seemed disappointed that I haven't done so. After kicking this idea around for months, I just applied for it. Before doing so, I spoke with Big Boss about it, and she really liked the idea, especially since she was just told there's no money in the budget for her to fly potential candidates in for an interview. She also told me that she is really needing to fill it soon. I told her my concern with applying was that I'd be supervising The Gorilla (my awful, awful coworker). She told me that she had already been thinking about how to restructure the staff so a different person would supervise him -- this is a relief to me, but it means the new girl (who we all adore) would end up supervising him. This makes me feel like an asshole. How can I do that to someone? Big Boss said she had been planning on making this change before I talked to her, but I would still feel like a jerk. Then again, this new girl is probably the only one of us who doesn't have bad blood with him and the personality to handle him.

Big Boss said that if they don't let her actually hire someone (remember, we are still in financial cutbacks here at the moment), she may put me in it temporarily, which is fine -- it's still something I can put on my resume, and I can still ask for some extra money. I'm secretly crossing my fingers that the higher ups will tell her she's got to eliminate some positions, and then we can just get rid of The Gorilla!

Obviously, she cannot guarantee that I'll get it (I know she likes 2 other applicants who have applied), but based on her reaction to my interest (excited and relieved), I feel I stand a good chance. If I do get to cross this bridge, I would like to talk to Big Boss about creating some sort of hybrid thing for me until my position could be filled. I don't want to leave my staff hanging. We can barely function with 3 full time people. What would my staff think? It would mean a LOT more work for them if my position goes vacant, even for a couple of months.

So I am a little conflicted about my decision. I went ahead and did it because this step up the ladder would open up new positions for me for the rest of my career -- after a position like this, I could run any library, more or less. I am getting a little burned out in my current post, too. I'm ready for more responsibility and new duties. And just because I move up here at this school doesn't mean that I can't still look for jobs in Virginia. Might as well make some extra bucks while I'm figuring out how to get out of this town. So, I went for it. We'll see.

Of course, the next day, I found a super-awesome job at a museum in Richmond. I am fairly qualified for it, and I'm going to apply for that, too. I guess when it rains, it pours!

There are also some big choices in my dating life (er, lack thereof!). I don't talk about it much on here, but I am growing more religious as I get older. Maybe it's maturity or life experience, but I have come to find that prayer and attending church has added so much richness to my life. I recently started attending a church I really like, and I've been meeting with a Bible Study group for almost a year now. I absolutely love my Bible Study friends. It is the most supportive and wise group of girls I have ever met.

Last time we met, my Bible Study group talked about dating, sex and marriage -- and how to do these things in a Christian way. Our group is made up of single, dating and married women -- so there are lots of perspectives. One of the things that all the (happily, I might add) married women said was that none of them had sex with their husbands before marriage. Even if they weren't virgins when they met their hubbies, they did not have sex with them until their Honeymoon. Some of them didn't even kiss!!!

This is a completely foreign concept to me. I happily turned my V-card in about 10 years ago, and have never looked back. I don't regret it. I look forward to the next time I get to partake (in case you didn't realize that after reading about NYE Guy!). This is pretty much in direct conflict with how I'm supposed to be living. I haven't figured out how to reconcile "Being a Christian Girl" with "Major Enjoyment of Lotsa Sex with Non-Husbands" yet. But you know, we're all works in progress.

These married friends of mine all said that in addition to strengthening their faith, that this enabled their relationships to strengthen -- for the right reasons. They really got to know each other and their relationships had better priorities. While I totally see this, and can see how removing sex would enable you to really get to know someone better before marriage, I am just not sure if I could actually do it. I mean, I realize that I should probably *ahem* wait longer to jump in the sack with new guys, but the thought of ZERO sex(or even a little messin' around!) makes my face go pale and my stomach queasy. I'm not one of those people who thinks you have to sleep with someone before you marry them -- I'm one of those people who just REALLY likes sex. It's like someone is telling me to enjoy summer...without flipflops, ice cream or the beach. It sorta takes out some of the best parts about having a boyfriend! I guess I don't think it's that big of a deal to get my freak on and enjoy it. I'm sure if I was still a virgin, I'd think differently. But I know what I'd be missing out on.

But this strategy worked for them. Perhaps they are on to something. If I do abstain completely *gulp* with someone I'd really like to get to know, I'm sorry to say it would be for practical/secular reasons, rather than religious. I definitely agree it would force you to get to know that person very well. If I met someone who I could take seriously, I will try to wait as long as possible. But what about those guys you don't want to marry? I meet them a lot. Can't I have some fun?

And maybe it's just a coincidence that these girls didn't do it with their now-hubbies, which resulted in a marriage proposal. There are tons of couples out there who are happily married and boinked plenty of times before walking down the aisle. Right? I mean, looking back on it, all the sex (and it was good!) didn't stop me and Ex-Fiancee from getting to know each other/deciding if we were a good fit outside of the bedroom. The good sex didn't save our relationship.

I know this is a bridge I can cross when I get to it, but I've been thinking about it a lot. Then again, I think about boinking a lot in general. LOL Maybe it's good that I don't have a boyfriend or dating life right now. I gotta figure out some stuff.

Getting You--and Me--Up to Date

I know I am supposed to be writing more about Hong Kong. And I will. But today, I really need to blog about more current stuff.

Gosh, I went to Hong Kong 3 months ago. It's a good thing I took photos, because one day, my kids will hate me for never recording anything about my travels. I am so bad about that kind of stuff. If you are friends w/me on the Book of Face (aka Facebook), you can see all my Hong Kong photos there. Otherwise, just sit on your hands and try to be patient. When the mood strikes, I will talk about it.

We all know I have been a very absent blogger over the last year or so. Part of that was because of my hectic job and my exhaustion at the end of the day. Looking back on it now, it was also because I have been in a very bad place ever since I broke things off with Ex-F. Although I had come to terms with my decision, and have no regrets, I found myself unable and unwilling to bounce back from it. It affected me much more deeply than I first realized, and I didn't have much of a support network to help me work through it. The Ex-F was my support network, and let's face it-- that just wouldn't be healthy. The Czarina only felt relief and doesn't see much point in talking about things from the past. MJ is too far away and even she admits she never answers her phone. My friends here are nice enough, but not so close that I can have heart-to-hearts with them.

I am rapidly burning out at my job. I do not like living in Savannah. I have put on a little more weight (not a lot, but enough that I can't wear the pants I wore last year) and I have become a total hermit. Aside from one or two things I have going on, I spend the vast majority of my free time watching tv on my couch, alone with my dog, eating junk food. (Part of this is also due to my recent obsession with current events, so I am learning a lot -- it's not a total waste! But that is for another post.) To make a long story short, I have not been myself lately. I have been a sad shell of my formerly vibrant self. My recent lifestyle is nothing I would wish on anyone and is certainly no way for a young woman to live. I am supposed to be happy and have all these friends and be running around doing stuff. Over the last year, I have been more lonely, more hopeless and more sad than I have ever been in my whole life. But no one (except my mom and MJ) knows. But even they don't know how bad it is. I have been pretty low. Like, scary low.

That's why I haven't blogged about any of it. It would just be a giant pity party. No one wants to read Debbie Downer's blog.

I suppose a shrink would say that I am intentionally shielding myself from any chance that I will ever date again, as a way to punish myself for having broken someone's heart. Or that I am so afraid of failing and ending up alone that I would just rather not even try. At least then, if I die alone, it won't be because I effed up, but because the universe didn't come through for me. (What, you didn't know the universe is supposed to be finding me a new boyfriend? Yeah, do you see how wacked out I am on self-pity??) A physician would probably tell me to exercise and eat right, so that I would feel better, gain more self-confidence and improve my mood. The Czarina just tells me all my problems are because of my weight and if I would just lose weight all my problems would magically disappear. They are probably right. Well, I think The Czarina's logic is a little off, but she means well. She's not the most sympathetic person in the world, let's face it.

It's not like I've never been through a bad breakup before. Or been lonely. Or overweight. Or suffered from bouts of insecurity. But I've always bounced right back before. For some reason, this time it was different. I have no motivation to change, even though I am not happy where I am now. This bummed-out period has been longer. Much longer.

I don't think I am clinically depressed, but I have been hovering around it and wallowing in self-pity for over a year now. Maybe I am undiagnosed. "I have a great apartment and a great job, and that's enough," I have been lying to myself. I feel like I've been on the Negativity-go-Round for a year, and I'd like to get off. It's starting to make me wanna barf.

See how fun this is? Wheeee! I know you are so glad you stopped by.

But the good news is, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I think that all my praying is starting to pay off. I think I am slowly coming out of it. I have been taking long walks with Sammy, and they help to put me in a slightly better mood. I am going to try and do more fun things not involving my couch. I just found a new church to go to, so that is also a good thing. After tiring of my coworkers nagging me, I put up a profile on OK Cupid (an online dating site) -- and let me tell you, I am so NOT into it. I haven't even replied to any of the emails. I am going to attend/try/go to anything that sounds interesting or fun. Even if it costs money (one of my favorite excuses to sit on my couch!). I am going to try and meet more people. I am looking forward to having news to share with someone when they call me and want to know what's new.

I am not going out this way. This has gone on long enough.

Ok, stay tuned for more optimistic (and funnier!) posts. Maybe more frequent, too. No more Debbie Downer. She's had enough space in my brain.

I'm Not Dead!

Hello, out there! I wonder if I have any readers left. I will assume I am talking to myself. Let's see. What has been going on in the last 2 months?

1. One of my coworkers (remember, the one who was kind of cute, but was really flaking out at work?) was fired. No probation, no serious warning -- just BAM! You're fired. This kind of put everyone on edge, like, "OMG, who is next??" -- but he really was doing a crappy job at work. No one was very surprised. The thing that stinks is that we were all friends w/him. So we are all kind of worried about him. He's been pretty down lately, so we have been concerned. Especially after he was offered a job at NYU and he turned it down. (Whaaa??). One of my coworkers did hang out w/him about a week ago, and she told me his plan is to move to Virginia Beach and open up a bar with one of his friends. This sounds a little weak to me, but who knows. I wish him the best. He's a really nice guy, so I hope he lands on his feet.

I also got a new boss. My old boss, who I love, is now my boss's boss. Anyway, my new boss rocks, too, so it's all good. I love my job. Even though it is really stressful, I love it.

2. CN (should I even call him that anymore? Perhaps "Ex Who is Now My Roommate" would be better?) and I are still on good terms, but we do each have our own little sad moments where we are reminded that we are not together. And our own little moments where we act like we are still together (no, not like that!). Which makes for an emotionally draining and frustrating environment. I can't really feel single when we are still roommates. It's not emotionally healthy for us to live together, and we have both brought this up at different times. But the financial situation keeps us together. Rent is very expensive here in Savannah, unless you want to live with a roommate (an option I do not have currently) or in the ghetto (I am willing to pay a lot of rent to be safe, so this also is not really an option). I am tempted to encourage him to move out (he has been thinking about it lately), if only for my sanity so I can get back to being "me" and not "we".

I feel kind of guilty for saying this, but I am feeling ready to date again. Whether I am really ready to do that remains unclear, but I definitely have the urge to go somewhere and flirt with cute guys. If CN knew this, it would crush him. I know my desire to get back on the horse will only get worse, and then what? Tell my date that I have an interesting living situation? Ugh. Introduce CN as my roommate? Double ugh.

So I think perhaps I will encourage him to go, suck it up financially, and get back to being Single VB. Then, in August, when the lease is up, I can find a cheaper place to live. My mom, my big sister and both of my aunts all think I am crazy for living like this. I am beginning to agree with them.

3. I didn't go home for Thanksgiving. It's an 8 hour drive, and I just didnt' feel like driving all that way. I really wanted a nice long weekend all to myself. And that's what I got. Selfish, I know, but work has been bonkers lately, and the last thing I wanted to do was stress out from driving on I-95 during Thanksgiving traffic. CN has been at his mom's house all weekend. This has been the Best Weekend Ever. I have totally relaxed, puttered around the house, slept in, cooked, read my book....aaaaaah. One of my coworkers wasn't going anywhere, either, so she and her hubby made a turkey and all the fixings, and we chowed down. It was sooo good.

4. I got a new cell phone and I love it. The salesman told me I would be addicted to it, and he was right. It's the Google Android MyTouch phone from T Mobile. I heart it. I don't know much about how it works, but I am having fun learning all about it. I have fun games, email, facebook, apps, etc. all on my phone. It is very cool. I highly recommend this phone if you are looking for one.

Um, I think that's about it for now. I am still working all the time, leaving me with little energy at the end of the day. I am slowing becoming interested in getting back to the gym after my...(I am ashamed to say it!) 11 month absence. The diet motivation is still MIA, unfortunately. But I do have the urge to run again, which is a good sign. I know exercise = energy, and that is a big motivator for me right now. I am sick of just working and sleeping and working and sleeping. I feel like I have no life outside of work sometimes. I need to be maximizing my day and going out of the house and meeting new people.

I'm sorry I haven't been blogging much. At all, really. CN uses the computer a LOT lately, and now he has to work mandatory overtime for his job, so he doesn't get off the computer until like, 7:30pm, and I just don't feel like blogging then. I like to blog right when I get home from work. I will try harder, I promise. And if CN moves out, and I have to choose between cable and internet, I will get internet. :)

Dying Alone and Childless: Day 23

First of all, I must thank each and every one of you for your support, emails, text messages and comments. I am truly overwhelmed, and literally brought to tears. *sniff*

This is going to make no sense, but the decision was both easy and incredibly difficult. At the same time. But I am also alternating between the two, especially now, after 3 weeks. It's so obvious we are wrong for each other! No, wait! Oh my gawd, did I really do that? Am I ok with this? Yes. Yes, I am totally ok. No, wait. etc. etc. Those of you who love the Voices in My Head have no idea what the cocophony has been like for the last month. I feel like a very, very strong woman..........but also like a murderer. I killed my dream. I killed us. But I am proud of myself for recognizing something and doing something about it, even though it made me sad and hurt someone I still care very deeply for. I have pride and shame. Mostly shame.

The thing that is really strange about this whole process (and it makes sense if you think about it) is how similar this feels to grief. I imagine it must be even worse if it's in the context of going through a divorce. That must be excruciating.

Like grief, I have good days and I have bad days. Some days I am feeling fine, and almost ready to put it all in the past and move on. Other days, I am really bummed out and wondering, "What if I just blew it?" I mean, you only get so many chances in life, right? What if I am being too picky? No two people agree on everything, so you have to have compromises, right? Do people really get married after the age of 32, or is that just what tv wants you to think? If I were to meet Mr. Perfect today, there's no way I would make it down the aisle anytime sooner than 32, let's face it. I am in a race against crow's feet, y'all. It's getting serious now. Have I officially reached old maid-dom? Are my ovaries vestigial organs at this point, and I might as well start planning my trip around the world -- solo? Because that is my Plan B: Become a World Traveller. Are all the men in my age range as confused, damaged and gun-shy as I am now? Or worse -- are all the good ones taken?

...and then there's the obvious question......

When and how do I try to re-enter the world of dating? Do I try online dating again?

*shudder* Because I am in a town where I don't really know anyone. So my dating options are pretty much nil. Ugh. No. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in a few months. I gotta get a feel for this town through the eyes of a single girl first. I don't know if it's full of jackasses who will only waste my time or if it's just a matter of separating the wheat from the chaff.

This is really all moot, anyway, as CN and I are now......roommates. Yes, we are 100% broken up. We've even had the, "Ok, are we really really broken up? Or is there a chance we might get back together?" talk. There is no touching beyond hugs, I put a robe on when I get out of the shower, etc. We are in separate bedrooms and are rarely home at the same time. So far.....so good. I don't have to cook, and he doesn't have to take me out to dinner. We each have our own couch, and if we don't want to watch the same show, one of us just goes upstairs. No harm, no foul.

I wonder if you are thinking this sounds incredibly awkward. It isn't. It's funny how comfortable it has been so far. I guess when you have dated someone for 2 years, the time to feel awkward has passed completely, no matter the circumstances. We are both pretty laid back people, and we have agreed not to bring any new significant others over until further notice. (Repeating this rule aloud just makes us snicker, because both of us go for loooooooong periods of time between relationships, so it's humorous to even think about dating a new person right now.)

At first, we talked about him moving out, but it would be difficult for me to afford this place on my own. Especially since his job pays for Internet (yay!). And he was not excited about the idea of moving again after we JUST got here. So for the time being, we are roomies. The Czarina does NOT get this and doesn't like it. I think she is worried we won't be able to move on or avoid sleeping together. I see her concern, but unfortunately, I don't make enough money to kick him out. Well, I do, but it would seriously impact my clothing budget. :) And he's saving a lot of money by staying, too. You can't live in a decent neighborhood in Savannah for under $800/month, and right now, we are each paying $500/month -- essentially a steal. And to be honest, I don't want to have any other roommate right now. CN is a really good one. Except that he doesn't seem to put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher -- a minor concern in the world of roommates.

He has told his job that he wants to be put on what is called "detail". This means he would travel a LOT all around the state, to different towns to do his work. If he gets put on detail, he will be gone periodically for as long as a month at a time. Obviously, this would be good for both of us. He's still waiting to hear back from them.

For the first time in my life, I wish I had a PR assistant. Someone to break the news to family and friends, field any questions, deal with the backlash, put out a press release for me. Because explaining it is one of the worst parts about this process. I dread it. And it's big news, too. I can't just do a facebook update. I have to email or call all the important people in my life. Individually. It took me about a week just to tell you guys, and I don't even know most of you! I try to get other people to spread the word for me so I don't have to repeat my sad story over and over and over. I elected one trusted coworker to put the news out to everyone at work. I even managed to change my facebook status secretly, so there was no horrible broken heart icon in everyone's news feed. (Whew!)

Then again, part of me feels like this is what I get for what I did. The punishment for my crime. Like Sisyphus, I am doomed to repeat my story over and over and over forever. Endless questions. Endless pity. Every time I tell it, I get more and more bummed out. Luckily, it comes and goes in waves. And work is REALLY busy right now, so that helps a lot.

I have gotten a mixed bag of reactions to the news, from shock to confusion to relief to pity -- and everything inbetween. What has been surprising to me is how invested some of our friends were in "us". A couple of them are having a hard time coming to terms that we broke up. For real. And no, we are not getting back together. I've been really surprised at how many family members were relieved to hear the news. They could tell we weren't a good fit. But they kept their mouths shut. I do not blame them. Telling someone they are with the wrong person is very difficult.

I am worried about the long term effects of this living situation. I have a friend who is in a similar situation. She's been in it for about 6 months now, and they are waiting for the house to sell before they can part ways. Ugh. I feel for her. Anyway, she said to me the other day that she's thinking about getting back together with him. I am worried that as time passes, I may start thinking like that, and fall back to where we were, and end up dragging things out or making a mistake...ugh. So I am a little concerned about my future and my ability to stay strong for a long period of time (we all have our needs -- *ahem*) and still move on despite the fact that I am living with an ex-fiance.

But I have to say that we are both being respectful, mature and flexible. So I'm kind of proud of us. Most people would turn this into a vindictive, painful and petty living situation. We are not.

I don't think he would admit it, even to himself, but I think he feels some relief, too. The pressure to be someone he's not is all gone. He doesn't have to try and understand me or my needs anymore. I think he may be starting to see how this is a good thing. Or maybe I just tell myself that to alleviate some of the mountains of guilt I am experiencing.

More than anything, though, I feel really really alone and lost. For the first time in my life. For two years, I have been a part of something. And now it's gone. Who am I? Why did I put myself in this situation? Am I pushing people away? How do I get in touch with myself again, when so much of my identity is wrapped up with him? What's next?

I guess today is one of those bad days.

Probably the Biggest Post Ever

So after trying on a bazillion dresses at about 4 stores, I found The Dress.....



If you want to see a pic of the back, go to David's Bridal and search for style # CT 2406. It's exactly what I wanted -- lace, but still simple, under $1,000 and not too fluffy or Bridezilla-y. But before you get all excited, I have some other news, too.

While CN and I were in Virginia visiting The Czarina, we spoke with the pastor of my family's church in my hometown. He wanted to talk to us about getting some pre-wedding counseling and he wanted to ask us a bunch of questions.

He started with some basic ones which I think we handled ok. Then the questions started to get more involved. How are we working on the budget? Who will do all the housework? Who will be the primary caretaker of the children? How many kids do you want to have? Where will you live? Who brings home the bacon? etc.

We sort of muddled through, because to be honest, we had never really discussed any of these things too deeply. We had some ideas, but nothing definite. Then he gave us a questionnaire to fill out -- one for me and one for CN. We were supposed to fill them out separately, and then compare answers. We did it when we got back home to Savannah, but I already knew what would happen.

Our answers were pretty different. Our answers were different on BIG questions that are important. Like how do you picture your life in ten years? My answer: fun, exciting chaos -- lots of kids running around, possibly a new career, we might be living anywhere in the world, constant changes. His answer: living in Savannah. Same jobs. Maybe a kid. And a house.

Another question pointed out to me that we do not resolve issues properly (we basically drop them rather than get to the bottom of it) and that I have a small issue with his relationship with his mother (she is really needy and not independent AT ALL, which makes him feel like he can never move too far away, no matter what). I asked CN what would happen if I found a great job that would mean a better life for us and our kids.....but it's in Oregon. He said I would be moving there alone if that happened, because he can't move that far from his mom.

Wow. That's an eye opener.

He believes staying near your family is much more important than I do. He cannot fathom living somewhere that is not within a couple hours from his mom. This is a foreign concept to me. That's why planes, trains and automobiles were invented.

"What if your mom and I had a disagreement? Would you take my side or hers?" I asked.

"Well, that depends on who is right," he replied.

"Wrong answer," I said. "If I am the mother of your children, I have to come first. Period. When you marry me, I have to become your priorty, second only to God. Just like you would become my priority. That's what marriage is about. If your marriage is not first, that's a problem for me."

He could not see that.

After going through some more talking and discussing what we wanted from life and how we viewed marriage, our differences became really obvious to me. But I had seen this coming.

For a while.

For several months, actually.

A few months ago, I began to have some doubts about marrying CN. I even had a huge freak out and went to go visit MJ for a weekend to talk to her about it. I was so confused! I knew what I was feeling, but I couldn't verbalize it. She did a great job at listening to me, but not voicing her opinion. Exactly what I needed! I felt a little better. I kept telling myself, "It's not that big of a deal. You love each other. You will figure it out." or "Too late. You're marrying CN, so you made your bed. Now sleep in it."

These are NOT good thoughts, am I right?

I had a nagging voice in the back of my head. It was doubt. And if there is one thing I believe, it's that you should NEVER get married if you have any doubts. I began to realize that CN is lacking in some things I cannot live with. I love him to death, but I know it takes more than love to make a marriage work. He is perfectly happy with the same job, same house, same day in and out-- for the most part. He is not ambitious or very energetic or motivated to improve his life. He is not intellectually curious. Now, I am not knocking these things. I am sure there are plenty of wonderful people who are perfectly happy like this. But I am not one of them. That is not good. CN and I need to be on the same page with things, and we are not. When I think about a future w/CN, all I see is that everything will be my job:

where we live (It was my idea to move to Savannah, remember?)
how many kids to have
which job to take (I make more money than him, and he will probably never change jobs, so we will probably move according to my career, not his, which is an easily-transferred job anyway)
the housework (I do not mind being in charge of it, especially after seeing him do laundry!)
raising the kids (not that he would be a bad father -- he would be great. But I can tell I would be the one helping them with homework, putting them to bed, etc.)

Are you tired yet? Because I am exhausted when I think about this. CN is a passive participant in his own life. He has very few friends, and only talks to them when they call him. He has very few hobbies. I began to realize -- he's kind of boring. But how could that be?? I was so happy dating him! And then I realized: he is always willing to do what I want to do. He doesn't have any life or opinions outside of me. It's like dating myself! I like being busy, trying new things, working hard, taking risks. But I can't do it all. And since CN is so passive, I will be doing everything. All by myself. And during this process, CN will grow resentful of me for running the show all the time. When he does, and says something, I will have to back down and do what he wants for a change, which will make me resentful. We will fall into a vicious cycle of resentment. It will eat away at what we have. And what I need in a spouse, I will eventually want to get elsewhere. Not good. At all.

But I was not the only one who saw it. Before I left my mom's house, The Czarina pulled me aside after everyone went to bed. I had talked to her about this stuff a little before, in the weeks preceding this visit. But I had been so excited and wrapped up in getting married, I had sort of put it to the back of my mind.

She said to me, "I'm only going to say one thing. And if I'm wrong, then tell me to shut up and we will never have to talk about this again. He is a sweet guy, and I know you love him very much, and I can tell he loves you very much. But if you are making all the decisions, how is this any different than being single?"

As soon as she said this, I burst into tears and knew what I had to do. I think I was just waiting for someone to sort of give me permission to remember that there were no rings on any fingers yet. I didn't have to do it.

I broke it off last week.

Karma Has Some Serious Explaining to Do

I think CN and I are paying for all of our past evil deeds here in Savannah. I'm beginning to wonder if this town is cursed. We had the weekend from hell.

Friday night, his Jeep was broken into. It sucked, but the good thing was that the perpetrator just unzipped his soft top, rather than cutting it, which would have been an expensive repair. And all they got were about 20 CDs. So as far as car break-ins go, it was as good as it gets. But you still get upset and feel violated. He was pretty pissed.

We didn't discover the break in until Saturday morning, as we were on our way to Columbia to move his stuff out of his house and bring it down to Savannah. Filing the police report delayed us by at least an hour. Yeah, we know it's kind of silly to file a police report over some stolen CDs, but CN's going to call his insurance company to see if he can get reimbursed. And who knows, maybe if a pattern pops up, having our report on file will help the police nab this guy.

We didn't start packing up the U-Haul until around noon. I was thinking it would take us maybe 4 hours to pack it up. But I didn't realize I was moving with the Dawdle Brothers, also known as my boyfriend and his buddy. They spent 2 and a half hours taking CN's washer and dryer over to his buddy's house. (It was his gift from us for helping us move.) We didn't finish packing until 9pm that night. For Pete's freaking sake.

Then on Sunday, I went to work (yes, I now work the occasional Sunday.) While I was at work, CN's mom called to tell him that she had looked out the back window of her house to see her dogs attacking her cat, so she ran out of the house to save her cat. On the way out the door, she had a bad fall and had skinned her knees, hurt her back, and cut open the back of her head. She probably should have gone to the emergency room to get checked out, but she couldn't because her husband is on his death bed. Yeah. CN's dad is not eating or speaking at this point, which is not a good sign. Not at all.

"What are you and Virginia doing this coming weekend?" she asked him.

CN told her that we are going to my cousin's wedding in Chicago.

She told him that is probably not a good idea and that she doesn't think he should go out of town right now, because of the state his dad's in.

So when I got home, CN told me that he's not going to the wedding, but I can go without him if I want. But I can't have fun without him! One of the reasons I was so excited to go was so that he can meet some of my extended family. And I can't enjoy myself, knowing that he's all bummed out about his dad. He still wants me to go, and The Czarina wants me to go (I am one of the few people from our branch of the family going to the wedding, so I need to represent, yo.), but I think I will feel guilty if I do. Besides, I hate driving in Atlanta and that's where I'm flying out.

So I really didn't know what to do yesterday. I'm looking at non-refundable tickets, a sick (practically) father-in-law, a bummed boyfriend and a favorite aunt who was REALLY looking forward to seeing me and meeting CN. Argh. I hate making choices like this. And the timing? Couldn't be worse. Not that there's a great time for his dad to get really sick.

I got home from work yesterday to find CN watching tv. And a kitchen full of clean dishes. Which made my day, because I HATE washing dishes by hand. He's the best, what can I say?

"How did you have time to wash the dishes?" I asked."Didn't you have to work today?"

"Nope. I called my boss and told her about my dad. She told me to go ahead and take the whole week off. I'm going to go see my family tomorrow, and I'll be there the rest of the week. Hopefully by Friday, I will know what's going on and how he's doing, and I might still be able to go to the wedding with you," he explained.

YAY! Er, maybe. I guess we will have to see. Something good has to happen, right? Aren't bad things only supposed to happen in 3s?

The $300 Water Bottle

I am nothing if not determined. And patient. And thorough.

Y'all would die laughing if you knew how I spend my time on some days. I can spend a week looking for a song I heard. Once, I spent a week looking for a friend of mine from childhood, Tori Condorodis. (Tori, if you are reading this, I have been looking for your ass for years, girl! YEARS!) I have stubbornly hunted down lyrics, book titles, SNL skits, the cheapest airline tickets, historical facts, urban legends, etymology tidbits, untold unusual items on eBay, the perfect paint color for my bathroom and recipes for coconut cheesecake. And then there's the whole genealogy thing I've been on for the past few months. That's an entirely different story!

It's only made worse by the fact that I'm a professional librarian, because not only do I know where to go and how to search for something, I am also trained to be resourceful and think of other ways to find whatever it is I'm looking for when I hit a stumbling block.

And today, I have hit a big one. So I am taking a break from my searching before I scream and pull out my hair so that I may vent here.

A little back story for you. Right when we first started dating, I mentioned to CN how much I disliked most re-usable water bottles on the market. I don't like the ones with the straws, because the straws are too difficult to clean, and sometimes they fall off the lid, which causes you to stop what you're doing, unscrew the lid and stick the straw back in. I hate the ones you squeeze, because I somehow either end up choking on the water or spilling it everywhere. I don't like the ones where you have to unscrew a top to get to the water. And all the other ones I've tried are poorly made, and break too easily. Or they are too tall to fit into the dishwasher. I just got a new one, and it is horrid -- it leaks EVERYWHERE. I have been on a quest for a great water bottle for years, people. YEARS. On the top shelf of my kitchen cupboard resides a graveyard of discarded water bottles that didn't make the cut.

One day a few weeks later, CN came over and told me he had gotten me something. This is one of my favorite things he says, so he had my undivided attention. From behind his back, he pulled out a large, green water bottle.

It.

Was.

Perfect.

High quality plastic, a beautiful green color, large enough to hold enough water for a long workout, a little plastic ring to make it easy to carry...and the best part of all: a GENIUS lid. All you do is push this little button, and the top flips up to reveal an ergonomical spout from which to drink your water -- no squeezy thing, no straws. When closed, the lid protects the spout and the water from germs, dirt and debris. Which was a feature I hadn't even thought of, but instantly loved.

"And it's dishwasher safe," CN explained proudly.

I may have fallen in love with him right at that moment.

Do you see where this is going? Yeah. About a month or so ago, I lost it. I cannot find it anywhere, not even in my car, which is where my lost things usually end up. The last time I remember having it, I was finishing up a workout with my trainer. Despite my repeated pleadings with the gym staff to search in the lost and found "just one more time, please", it has not turned up. The gym staff thinks I am a psycho, because I come up to the desk once a week, frantically searching for a stupid $5 water bottle, but I don't care. I am lost without it. I regret that I never truly appreciated the water bottle until I lost it. It was always my favorite, mostly because CN gave it to me, but now I appreciate it for its impeccable design.

My first instinct was to ask my trainer if he'd picked it up for me. No dice. (He also looked at me like I was a little crazy.) Since then, I have scanned the gym every time I am there, looking for the bastard who ganked my bottle. I know what happened. I left it sitting on a bench while I dug for my keys, and then I just left it there when I walked out. Someone with a good eye for a perfect water bottle came along and decided to just keep it. Which is really stealing, in essence. A responsible person, like yours truly, returns things to the front desk. (I found a watch once, and a wallet -- I promptly turned them in to the staff. You'd think karma would pay me back for that!!!)

But one day, they will screw up. I know it. Right now, they are laying low, hiding out with my water bottle. They probably only use it at home or at work. They are too afraid to return to the scene of the crime with it. But one day.....one day....They will forget that they stole it, and bring it to the gym, where I will see them using it, and confront them, probably with much hostility. And possible bloodshed. *In Arnold Schwarzenegger voice* I will get it back.

This is what I get for not appreciating my bottle!! It has been taken away from me!! And given to someone else who loves it, probably as much as I do!! And I cannot even bear to tell CN that I lost it. It is my dirty little secret I am keeping from him. I am ashamed of myself. One of the best things he ever gave me, and I carelessly leave it laying around for someone who is too cheap to go buy his own water bottle.

Just to rub salt into the wound, that bitch Karma has ensured that I will never be able to get a water bottle like that again. The store where CN got it no longer sells them. Which prompted me to go on a searching binge to buy one online. "Oh, one little trip over to Amazon.com will take care of that," I thought.

Not so fast, VB. Amazon only sells your average, flawed water bottles. So does Target. And Walmart. And Dick's Sporting Goods. And the camping supply store in town. And all the grocery stores (yes, I have visited just about every one in town). Buying one off of eBay just doesn't sound like a good idea. Who knows where the water bottle has been??

An intensive, hours-long Internet search led me to -- JOY!! -- a website selling the same bottle, but with a company logo on it. Logo, schmogo -- I wanted my water bottle NOW! Who cares if it promotes a company? I click "Buy" and...

"This item is no longer available."

Are you freaking kidding me.

I went back to the drawing board. Eventually, I managed to find out the make and model of the water bottle. (Yes, it's like a car. This is the Cadillac of water bottles, I'm telling you.) Now, I have something to work with!! Surely, some retailer sells these little buggers online! I did a search for the make and model. A bazillion hits. Jackpot!!!!

Upon further inspection, I realize that Little Miss Karma is a sick, evil and twisted little bitch: the bottles are only sold through those business promotions companies, you know, the places where you go to get your company logo put onto 450 coffee cups or 1600 ballpoint pens.

In my frenzied state of desperation, I almost went for it: "Ok, let's see. I can get 36 of them for $7.19 each...plus a $50 flat rate for the order set-up....which comes out to....$308.84. Plus shipping. Hmmm. Maybe I can get an Indiana University logo on it...or a cute message, and then I can give them out as gifts! Yeah!"

When reality set back in, I realized this was far too much to spend on water bottles. Worse yet, my friends would hate me for giving them a stupid water bottle every year for their birthdays. "But check out the lid! It flips! Isn't that awesome? This year, I decided to give you a purple one!" I would say.

*sigh*

So, my search continues. But if you are one of those people who orders the little freebies with the company logo imprinted on them, will you please get your logo put onto H2Go's Zuma water bottle?? I'll take any color. I'll buy 10 from you. And I will I verbally promote your business until the cows come home! I promise!

And if you happen to see one of my beloved Zuma water bottles for sale at your local store, please buy me 3 of them. Trust me, I will make it worth your time! Here's a photo, which can be easily printed out and carried in your wallet for reference purposes:

Familiarity Breeds Contempt, Part 2

Let's see, where were we? Oh, yes. I have my intervention talk with E.

I told her I do not understand why she doesn't move home, back to Minnesota. She misses her family so much. She's really close to them. She doesn't own a house, she hates her job anyway, she doesn't have any money...if I were in her shoes, I'd pack up and stay with my mom until I got my act together. Maybe go back to school. Away from all the bars. I told her I don't understand why she won't leave her job, where she is overworked and underpaid, and now working with her ex-boyfriend AND his entire family, who never liked her and are mean to her. I mean, there literally is no good reason to stay at that job. Everything is so obvious to me, but she just sort of agrees and then makes excuses for why she can't change anything in her life. None of her arguments have any merit. I swear, she is determined to stay miserable!

I almost laughed when she said, "You know, it's so funny that you are telling me all of this. Almost like an intervention. W even said the same thing to me the other day. She said, 'I feel like I need to stage an intervention with you, E.' Funny, right?"

I swear, there could be giant, flashing signs in front of her face, and she would not even see them.

If two people who know you well are both saying the same thing, what does that tell you???

I am pretty surprised W never told me what living with E was like. She never gave me a heads up or hinted at anything. So when E began to do things like sleepwalk and handwash the dishes in the middle of the night, in a totally dark kitchen, I had to figure things out by myself. And E's most recent ex, B, also never gave me any indication that he was dealing with the same kind of wackiness I was, although I'm sure he must have. I can only imagine the long list of crazy experiences we have witnessed individually. It is pretty amazing, though, that neither of them have ever approached me to talk about E's antics. I wonder if W and B just have more patience than I do. Or if they were both relieved that she was living with me instead of them, so they kept their mouths shut. Can't say that I blame them.

So back to the intervention conversation with E. As she went on about her problems, I began to understand what was really going on. After telling her how worried I was and how abnormal her behavior was, I told her that she might want to think about getting a shrink or some kind of professional help, in addition to rehab. She told me that she used to go to a shrink, but that she stopped going.

Knowing she has pretty good health insurance and loves nothing better than to whine about her problems, I asked her why.

"Because he told me I'm bi-polar, and I know that's not true."

OMG. Lightbulb. As soon as she said this, it all made sense! The insomnia, followed by sleeping straight for 3 days. The anti-depressants (to counter-act her "down") combined with the Adderol (to counter-act her mania). The impulse shopping. The sad, weepy days where she would be totally bummed. Followed by days where she was in a fantastic mood. Yet nothing in her life had even changed.

Being a librarian, I decided to do some research and looked in the DSM-IV, one of my favorite books ever, because you can diagnose your friends, your family and yourself with mental disorders (you think I'm joking, but I'm not. It really is fun. And we are ALL in there, trust me. I'm in there at least twice.). Well, it turns out that E could be the poster child for Bi-Polar Disorder.

Negative thinking that stops you from making decisions? Check.
Self-medication with alcohol? Check.
Loss of appetite? Check. (The girl never eats, I swear.)
Problems concentrating? Check.
Bouts of rage? Check. (She can blow up at the drop of a hat sometimes -- she's one of those girlfriends who makes a mountain out of a mole hill, a source of lots of relationship problems for her.)

At this point, there is very little doubt in my mind that E is bi-polar. But I also know she's in a deep denial about this, which is something no one can help her with. So as irritated as I am with her, I am also worried about her and feeling pity towards her. She is so unhappy. Her life is a trainwreck.

Now, I don't know if her bi-polar disorder is responsible for her need to re-organize all of her worldly posessions twice a week, or her obsessive stalking of her ex, or her abily to dwell on things until the cows come home. Or her innate ability to call me at the worst possible times. All I know is that she needs help. And that I'm glad she's out of my house.

Which are some pretty bad mixed feelings. I'm sitting at the intersection of Guilt Street and Annoyance Avenue, a very odd place to be. You see, I have so much pity for the girl. Her sister died at age 30 of breast cancer, and E was very close to her. E got tested and found out that she also has that breast cancer gene, which means she has an 80% chance of getting breast cancer. So to prevent this, E had a voluntary double mastectomy. Which totally sucks. And I just feel so guilty bitching about her. For a long time, I kept giving her the benefit of the doubt. My internal dialogue went like this: "Well, I'm sure I would be a basketcase, too, if my sister died that young and I might die of the same thing, causing me to volunteer to remove my boobs." (This health concern did not stop her from smoking like a chimney, btw. Another example of her great decision-making skills.)

But after a while, this argument couldn't justify her irritating habits or soothe my frazzled nerves. I began to divorce my worries and pity about her health from my resentment towards her. I compartmentalized these emotions. My internal dialogue turned into: "Well, I lost my brother and my dad in the same calendar year, and I don't feel the need to ruin other people's lunches or drone on and on about what an asshole my ex is."

And I grew weary of her. Exhausted, even. Encounters with her, which used to be friendly and exciting, were now dreadful and redundant, not to mention absurdly pathetic. I'm afraid I didn't do a very good job at concealing my joy when she told me she was moving out. I couldn't wait, to be honest.

The day her new boyfriend came to load up her stuff, I was in an excellent mood, I must say. I even smiled as I watched them load up the truck. I even offered to help. :D

Almost as a final parting gift from E, I have had to deal with The Table Incident. Let me explain:

When E moved in, she brought with her a HUGE, gorgeous kitchen table, with four chairs, all painted a glossy white. It looked like it was designed for my house, it went so well with my living/dining area. I love big tables, where I can spread out with books or projects. That table almost made living with E worth it.

So I was ecstatic when she told me she was moving out BUT was leaving the tables and chairs with me until further notice. She didn't need them at her new place, which was fully furnished. This was fabulous news.

A couple weeks later, E moved out. Not in the traditional sense of the word, in that all of your stuff is now at a new location and you no longer reside at your previous home. No, no. Not with E. For her, moving out takes a solid month. Which was, like most things E does, annoying as shit to me. I also happen to consider taking your sweet time to move out of someone's house to be fairly rude. But that's just my personal opinion. By that point, I just wanted her OUT OUT OUT. And all she did was drag, drag, drag her ass. So instead of having my house all to myself, I had to deal with random phone calls during that time: "Hey, I am coming over tonight to get some more stuff, ok?"

Most of you are thinking, "So, what's the big deal? You can just be conveniently not there when she comes over."

Oh, but I can't. Because E seemed to have a difficult time remembering what was hers and what is mine. She walked off with my George Foreman grill, after I told her which one was mine. In an admittedly childish retaliation, I hid her pizza stone until she brought it back. And she also managed to take one of my trashcans, which is only mildly irritating. If she managed to get anything else, I haven't noticed. But my point is, I had to be around to watch her move all her stuff out. Argh.

Finally, after weeks of this crap, she had moved all her stuff out. She also conveniently forgot to clean her bathroom or her bedroom, which were both filthy. Whatever. I certainly was not going to invite her back to clean them.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, I thought I was free of her until further notice. I was enjoying the table and chairs so much, I was beginning to forgive her of all of her pain-in-the-ass ways.

But of course, nothing is ever really finished with E. She obsesses and dwells and changes her mind as often as she opens her mouth.

A couple of weeks after she had moved out, she called me to tell me she had changed her mind about the table and chairs. She was coming by to get them after work on Friday.

Leaving me with no table or chairs.

After she had told me 3 times that I could keep them until further notice.

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. It also could have been PMS. But I was royally pissed off about this and bitched about it incessantly for the entire weekend. Ask CN. He was sick to death of hearing about it, poor guy.

"What are you going to do if she calls you in a couple of weeks to tell you she wants to keep them at your house again?" he asked me.

"I'm going to tell her that if they come back in, they are mine forever," I said. "And if she remembers that she left her computer monitor here, I'm going to tell her I haven't seen it. I'm sick of playing Little Miss Nice Guy. I am having an E-botomy. She's being removed from my life. No more phone calls. No more hanging out. I do not care to ever talk to her again, to be honest. She drives me nuts."

"She left her computer monitor? Can I have it?" he asked.

"Consider it yours," I replied, happy to be 100% E-free at long last.

Familiarity Breeds Contempt, Part I

Alright, so far, I am seeing choice #4 pop up in the votes the most, so today I will discuss the roommate issue a little bit more. In case you are scratching your head right now, E moved out the weekend of Halloween....in theory. (You'll see what I mean in Part II)

Now, I know I have familiarized you with E and her antics before. But I haven't really given you the whole story. So here we go.

I met E several years ago, through my friend W. At the time, they were roommates-- E rented from W. Every so often, we would all get together, so I knew E well enough to like her, but let me tell you, you never REALLY know someone until you live with them.

When W's boyfriend moved into her condo, which is pretty small, E began to feel like three was a crowd. And really, with a boyfriend around, I think most single girls would feel they were a third wheel. So I understood her feelings of discomfort and interest in moving out. Coincidentally, at the time, my old roommate K (who is a WHOLE other story which I won't get into right now) had moved out, and my extra bedroom was empty. So I invited E to move in with me.

That's when I got what I should have seen as Red Flag #1: "Oh, I would love to, but I'm really broke and I wouldn't be able to pay you a whole lot of rent, so I would feel bad doing that to you," E explained. I told her that since we were friends, I would cut her a deal, no problem. At that point, I needed the rent money. ANY rent money.

"Ok, well, how about you pay me $350 per month?" I offered. Where I live, this is a really good rent price, especially for living in a house, rather than an apartment.

"That's more than I'm paying now. I really can't afford to pay more than $230 per month," she replied.

Since I was really just wanted ANY extra money, I said ok. "You are a sucker," CN told me. I told him that we are friends, and I would feel bad if I charged her a price that broke her bank.

"$230 doesn't break anyone's bank, unless they are on welfare," he replied.

A little voice in the back of my head told me he was right, but I decided to ignore it. While E doesn't have a college degree (she dropped out), she does make a decent living working for a health benefits company. I don't know how much exactly, but she probably makes around $30,000-35,000. Looking back on it now, I do kind of feel like a sucker. When I made that amount of money, I was paying $500/month in rent.

Not long after E moved in, I began to learn more about her financial situation. With around $20,000 in credit card debt and an upside-down car loan, she was on the verge of filing for bankruptcy. Suddenly, her low rent request made a lot more sense to me. I told her to let me know if things got even worse and if she needed extra time to pay rent, or some other kind of help. She was my friend, after all.

Then, I started noticing the shopping. And I'm not talking about hitting big annual sales or Target or even Walmart shopping. E would buy brand new Coach purses. And not the little ones -- the BIG ones. She would justify the purchases by using $25 coupons she received in the mail for being a loyal Coach customer. "It's such a good deal! How can I not do it?" she would exclaim, showing off her new purchase. Then there were the matching shoes that had to be purchased to go with the purse. And if there was a party or an event coming up? She had to buy a new outfit. Often from places like Banana Republic or J.Crew. If nothing else, E is a well-heeled girl. I have to give her some props -- she's a fantastic dresser. But really, at what cost?

This was from the girl who swears she cannot afford to pay me more than $230/month in rent.

Then, there was her car. It was only about 2 years old, and it was a big, gas-guzzling SUV. It was newer and more expensive than my car. I am not saying that I am envious of her, because as you will soon see, that is the last thing I feel towards E. I'm just stating this as evidence of how outside of her means this girl lives. I make more money than E does, and my used car cost only $8,000. Hers was around $25,000. She eventually managed to trade it in and get a new car loan at a slightly lower interest rate. I thought this was a great idea, until she brought home her new car. It was a brand new, $25,000 car. "My payments are a little lower now. And it's much better on gas," she explained.

Is this girl for real???

Now, is it just me, or does it seem pretty stupid for someone in her financial situation to live this kind of lifestyle? I mean, it's a no-brainer, really. But wait -- it gets better.

One day, we were talking about her precarious financial situation. I managed to, in a round-about-way, aske her how in the holy fuck she got into this mess to begin with. Her explanation? Her ex-boyfriend from several years back, who we are pretty sure is a drug dealer (oh yes, she picks some real winners), showered her with luxurious gifts for so long (these were guilt presents, because he was cheating on her left and right) that she got used to them, and just can't seem to go back to anything less.

Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me.

I asked her what kinds of things he had bought her before he ripped out her heart and stomped on it. (Side note: It was a pretty shitty breakup -- he basically kicked her out of his apartment to make room for the new girlfriend, who he'd been cheating on her with. Yeah, he was a really great guy.) He had purchased for her: several Coach bags, shoes, perfume, a Rolex and (drumroll please) a Louis Vuitton purse. As in, a real one, NOT a knock-off from Canal Street or someone's car trunk.

Call me crazy, but if I was broke as shit, drowning in debt, and I had a bunch of junk that some asshole had bought for me with drug money to ease his guilt over cheating on me, I would sell that crap on eBay so fast it would make your head spin. But does she do that? No. She'd rather wear her Rolex every day, a constant reminder of not only a miserably failed relationship, but also her poor decision making skills. What the hell is this girl on, anyway?

Well, for starters, alcohol. Now, we all know that I don't drink anymore, so I am a little out of the loop, but I'm pretty sure it's not really very acceptable to drink beer on your lunch break. But this didn't stop E. I would come home at lunch to find one empty beer can in the trash, and a fresh one in her hand. Sometimes, she would get drunk on margaritas at lunch and go back to work. Yeah. I'm sure you're not surprised to hear this, but she also would drink heavily at night and on the weekends. In addition to knocking out a case of beer every week at home (an amount I already think is kind of a lot), she would go out at least 2 times during the week and every Friday and Saturday--drinking for about 5 hours straight. Now, E is a fun girl, I will give her that. But I also think a lot of fun people are alcoholics, and she's one of them. Not only was her safety impacted by her drinking (she would drive drunk if no one would was around to take her home and she came thisclose to getting busted for an open container once), but so was her budget and her job. She called in sick several times due to a hangover. I know a lot of people do this, but she would do it about once or twice a month. That's a lot.

In addition to the alcohol, E was also on a cocktail of pills. She's a Heath Ledger waiting to happen: anti-depressants, Xanax, Ambien and Adderoll were all put into her body every day. This is in addition to all the alcohol, any over the counter painkillers she would take, and if she was sick, antibiotics. She admitted to doctor shopping, especially when one of them would not refill her prescriptions.

As you can imagine, anytime her behavior became strange or erratic, I just assumed it was from all the chemicals she had swimming around in her body. Or an eccentric personality. After a while, I grew accustomed to her insomnia, her weekend sleep-a-thons, her drunken antics, her Ambien-induced sleepwalking, and her passing out in the bathtub. What, I never told that story? I can't believe I never told that one. I was probably trying to protect her by not spilling her personal life on this blog. But at this point, I doubt I will lose any sleep over it. If anything, I'm hoping this will serve as a warning to anyone using or thinking about using Ambien. The drug is evil, I tell you.

A few times, E would come home drunk, take her Ambien and watch TV in her bed. I have learned that drunk people need everything to be louder than sober people do, so several times I would wake up to the sound of her TV or music coming from her room. Knocking on her door, yelling her name and even shaking her did not wake her up. A couple of times, she was so PTFO that I thought about calling 911. She was seriously dead to the world. If there had been a fire, she would have burned alive. No joke. So I would eventually just give up, turn the TV or music off myself, and go back to bed.

This wasn't a huge deal, but it started to scare me as time went on. More than once, I would wake up in the morning to find that the oven had been on all night. E had gone out, gotten drunk, come home to make a frozen pizza, and then PTFO on her Ambien before turning the oven off. I was really starting to get worried, but always hoped it would be the last time.

The last straw came with The Bathtub Incident. One night, I was awakened by the sound of music coming from her bathroom. At this point, it was normal for her to be up all night, re-organizing her room as she often did when she had bouts of insomnia. I was annoyed, but I knew she hadn't woken me up on purpose, so I walked over to ask her to turn her music down. I knocked on the door. No answer. I yelled her name. No answer. Thinking she had passed out in her bed, I went into her room -- she was not there. She had to be in the bathroom. I peeked around the corner to look into her bathroom. She was passed out in the bathtub, with water up to her chest. I was panicked, and sort of froze for a minute, because what do you do? All I could think was, "What the fuck? I am so pissed at her for putting me in this situation. This is so fucking awkward and scary. At worst, she could drown. At best, I have to go in there and drag my wet, naked roommate out of the tub, which is very awkward!!"

So I went in and shook the crap out of her until she woke up long enough to mumble that she was fine. Then she passed right back out. I seriously didn't know what to do. She was too heavy and slippery for me to pick her up, because I tried. I was really furious that I even had to deal with this at 3am. I was starting to feel like her babysitter, and I was really just OVER IT. Looking back on it, I should have let the water out of the tub, but it didn't occur to me in my half-asleep stupor. I was just pissed. I took a good look at the depth of the water and realized that she was too tall to slip under it. (E is about 5' 9") At the time, that was good enough for me. I figured the water would eventually get cold enough that it would wake her up and she would get out. So I turned the music down and went back to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I totally panicked, because HOLY SHIT, I just left her there??? What the hell was I thinking??? I felt horrible. But I am a deep sleeper, and not the clearest thinker in the middle of the night. I still can't believe I did that, and I shudder to think of what could have happened. But at the time, I thought I had made a good decision. Stupid, I know. I feel really bad about that. Anyway, so I ran to her room and I saw that she was safe in her bed--WHEW. I didn't even tell her about it until several weeks later, because it was just so awkward, and I was so pissed about it, I didn't want to bring it up.

This, along with the random guy she left at my house, were major turning points in our relationship. I began to really resent her and grow very annoyed with her. Little things that hadn't bothered me before started to drive me up the wall. For example, every morning, she would ask me if her outfit looked ok. It always did, because she has the most gorgeous wardrobe you've ever seen, and thanks to the Adderoll, she's as thin as a rail. I am not nearly as good of a dresser as she, so it never made sense to me why she'd even ask for my opinion in the first place. After the Bathtub Incident, this little morning routine began to drive me insane. It began to feel like she just wanted to show off her clothes to me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I swear she began turning her iPod up more loudly, and she listened to the SAME four songs every morning. And she has really bad taste in music. For weeks, I had to listen to "Please don't stop the music please don't stop the music please don't stop the music!!" (that Rihanna song) at 67 decibels.

As if the morning wasn't bad enough, lunch breaks were even worse. When I go home for lunch every day, I like to read or watch "What Not to Wear". I don't mind a little small talk or gossip, but if E took her lunch at the same time, she would basically hijack my lunch time. E would often change outfits at lunch, so I would have to go through the whole outfit-approval discussion again. And instead of making small talk and letting me get back to my meal/book/tv show, she would use lunch breaks as an opportunity to inform me on one of the following topics:

OMG, You Won't Believe What Someone Did to Me!
My Ex-Boyfriend is an Asshole and You Won't Believe What He is Doing Now! (aka OMG, You Won't Believe What a Stalker I Am!)
OMG, I Hate My Job
OMG, My Boyfriend is Such an Asshole (Side note: he wasn't. He's actually a great guy. Who gave her the boot a few months ago, because he also grew tired of her crap.)

As you can probably gather from this list of topics, E has a tendency to be a martyr and dwell on things. She's a little obsessive about how people have wronged her. A lot of the time, like with her ex, she's right -- the guy is a total fucking jerk. But they broke up FOUR YEARS AGO. LET. IT. GO. She still, as far as I know, stalks his girlfriend on myspace, drives by their apartment, looks for his car when she goes out, etc. A lot of girls have done these things, including yours truly, but for FOUR years???? Good grief, Charlie Brown!

All of E's Martyr Talks got really old after a while. I just wanted to eat my sandwich and watch my show and be left alone. I did not go home for lunch to play therapist. To the same patient. With the same issues. Every day. Not surprisingly, she never took any of my (basic and obvious) advice anyway, which only irritated me further. It's like she is hell bent on making her life as difficult and emotionally upheaving as possible. I don't get it. So I began to take my lunch breaks very early, to avoid seeing her. She rarely went to lunch before noon, and never went back to work before 2pm (yeah, her job is another story!) . I have found that simply avoiding her works very well. I haven't had to watch The E Show in a very long time. (You know anyone like that? Every time they talk to you, it's all about them? Never about you? That's E in a nutshell.)

For a while, the nights and weekends were great -- she would be at her boyfriend's house, and I would be free of her. But as I said a little bit ago, several months ago, he apparently grew tired of her, too, and dumped her. So then she was suddenly at home all the time. When she started dating the guy she's currently with, I thought, "Great! Now she can start sleeping over at his house!" -- but I had no such luck. She managed to start dating a 33 year old guy who still lived with his parents. Not that he doesn't have any money -- he owns 3 cars. But I guess he still wants mommy to do his laundry. WTF.

So he started sleeping over all the time, which led to their shower antics and that time I kicked him out, etc--I have already told you about those things. He only made things worse.

One day, not too long before she moved out, I broke down and told E everything -- I went on and on and on. I talked about The Bathtub Incident, kicking her new guy out of the house, how she left the oven on all the time, how tired I was of getting up at night to turn things off, how she drove drunk, how absurdly she managed her money, how silly it was for her to obsess over her ex, how smoking cigarettes wasn't a good idea considering how much cancer ran in her family, how I was worried about her -- I went on and on and on, for about 30 minutes. I ended it with, "I am really worried about you and I think you need to think about going to rehab."

Know what her response was?

"OMG. You're right. I really need to stop taking Ambien. I will talk to my doctor and switch to something else."

When I started to tell her that wasn't really what I meant, she jumped in with,

"I am such a burden to you. It is so good that I'm moving out soon. I feel terrible. Don't worry. I will be gone soon. I am so sorry."

I guess some people just don't get it.

Stay tuned for Part II.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. Be thankful you have a better head on your shoulders than my ex-roommate.

Friendships, Part 2

So the original post for today was going to discuss friendships, but it seems I've already written it and said pretty much everything I want to say.

It's just that I'm thinking about all of that stuff again lately. I think it's because this week, I was contacted by an old and dear friend I've missed terribly (anyone remember Lady Starfish? 25 pts for you if you do). She was my best friend for years. Even when she moved to Tennessee, we stayed close. Then one day, she didn't return my call. I waited a couple weeks, called again, and that call was not returned, either. I am pretty good at taking a hint, so I admitted defeat: the friendship is over. A few tears in my pillow, and I moved on. I tried not to take it personally. She is the first to admit that she's a crappy friend. This was about 2 years ago.

Every so often, I would think about her, and even try and call her. But to no avail. After a while, I realized I may not ever be able to get in touch with her again: she probably changed her phone number to avoid her psycho ex-husband, she changes jobs a lot and she got re-married to a guy whose last name I don't know. So I basically gave up.

So imagine my surprise when she called me the other day!

Well, she sort of called me. You know how if you hit the wrong button on your phone, you can accidentally call someone? Somehow, she did that to me. I was so excited. But when I picked up, all I could hear was a car radio. She must have been driving somewhere, and the phone was on the seat next to her. I could hear the radio loud and clear, and even hear her rolling the window up and down. But she could not hear me yelling her name. So I gave up. And hung up. And was very sad. So close, but so far. If only...

Today, the rollercoaster friendship started back up again. I got a text message from her, telling me she misses me and is going out of town but wants to catch up on Monday! She apologized for being gone so long! Yay! My friend is back! She must have seen that she accidentally called me.

But I am wary. I am gun-shy. I'm wondering if we can even be close friends again. It's not that I'm not aware that friendships can fluctuate or even wither away. But it is painful, sometimes. She's one of my favorite people, so for her to jump in and out makes me feel...disposable. B-list. Back burner. And it hurts. I think I am going to have to say something about this, when we talk on Monday. Oh, who are we kidding. I KNOW I will say something. I have a big mouth and I think out loud. So we will see. Right now, I am expecting her to not answer her phone on Monday......experience makes you a pessimist. *sigh*

I swear, it's like dating a guy or something. My emotions right now are the same as when an old ex-boyfriend would call me and want to get back together. I have all these questions, and old memories, and a longing to have that person in my life again. But at the same time, didn't we already try this? How can I trust them again? How do I know this will be worth my emotional and time investment? Do I only give it a half-assed try, in order to protect myself? Or should I settle in for the time being, grateful for every moment? Maybe I should keep up some walls for a while. It's only fair, since I've been put on the back burner all this time.

Right now, I am wary. But excited.

Also this week, I have been dealing with the flip side of this situation. There's a girl I used to be friends with. She's very nice, but not very fun. And she makes (what are, in my opinion) stupid decisions. She has a tendency to be negative. A wet blanket. An Eeyore. Looking back, I am surprised I could even tolerate being around her for as long as I was. But when your schedules mesh well, and you can't really come up with a bad reason to stop being someone's friend...you find yourself sort of stuck with them....

Until you can't take it anymore and realize you'd rather just be alone. Which is what happened to me about 2 years ago. So I faded away. I didn't always return calls, and if I did, I cut them short. I cancelled plans, or always had some kind of an excuse. I was hoping this would do the trick -- she would get the hint and move on.

Only, she hasn't. About every 6 months, I will get an email or a phone call. I don't return them, of course. I thought she was done, until she called me. And emailed me. And text messaged me. All in the same day. That day is today.

She is having a big graduation party and wants me to go. While I applaud her achievement, I have ZERO desire to go to the party. She will corner me and expect an explanation for my long absence. Or worse, act like it never happened. The other girls from that "group" will also be there. I have also blown them off for the same reasons. The food might be good, but the party will be lame. It will be awkward, at best. I know everyone will want to know "where I've been" because I'm a "stranger". Which, if you are a woman, you know is just a thin veil for, "WTF? I thought you were my friend!" The best thing I can hope for is that they are all pissed at me, and will refuse to speak to me. This would actually be the best thing to happen, if I go. But do I want to go to a party like that? Um, no.

And yet, I cannot bring myself to reply to any of her attempts at contacting me. What do I say?? I can't go to your party, which isn't until mid-December? Congratulations on working your ass off for the last 3 years, but I can't make it? I don't want to be your friend anymore? Please stop calling me? I'd love to, but I have to clean my house that day?

Any of these replies will either hurt her feelings or open the door for further contact. Neither of which are viable options, from what I can see.

The thought of talking to her fills me with dread and guilt. At the same time, I am even growing a little irritated at her inability to just let sleeping dogs lie. Get. The. Hint. You know?

It's so funny, because I NEVER had these feelings when I dumped a boyfriend. I felt relief. I was happy to move on. If they called me, my attitude was more along the lines of, "WTF do you want?" rather than, "Shit. I am an asshole." -- which is how I feel right now, staring at my phone and its voicemail message from Miss Eeyore.

It's a million times more difficult to blow off a friend than a boyfriend. I can't figure out why. You'd think it'd be worse with the guy -- after all, you have probably seen each other naked. There's an intimacy there. But for some reason, loyalty seems to trump compatibility in friendships. It's sort of the other way around when romance is involved. Look at all the men who have friends from childhood, and despite their obvious differences, they still hang out. Guys don't seem to care. It's like loyalty is the #1 rule. Even if the guy is a lame-o. I don't get this. You can call me selfish, but I think life is too short to spend it with people who bore the shit out of you.

Perhaps it's confusing, because I don't hate her guts or anything. She's still on my myspace friends list. I just don't want to be an active friend to her. If I run into her in the grocery store, fine. Let's have a friendly chat. Catch up. But I do not want to hang out with her over a meal or even a drink. I don't miss her or regret ending the friendship.

And I don't think there's any way to tell someone that without hurting their feelings. So my phone stays where it is, next to me on my desk.

It's so strange, being on both sides of the same coin at the same time. I am excited! No, wait. I'm an asshole. I can't wait to catch up! Why won't you leave me alone? Please remember to call me! Ugh, stop calling me!

With Miss Eeyore, I feel guilt and shame. And empathy. Which only makes the guilt worse. I know exactly how this must make her feel. The confusion. The pain.
With Lady Starfish, I have trust issues. I am hurt. I am resentful. Yet understanding. Because I have been blowing someone off for 2 years, myself. I also worry that I am her Miss Eeyore, and I have finally browbeaten her into calling me.

Is this karma at work? Some surreal metaphor? Is the universe trying to teach me something?

Ugh. Friendships are hard. What should I do?

WHAM

Oh, how I wish this post was about George Michael. You have no idea how much I'd love to tell you to wake me up, before you go go.

Nope. This is a crappy post. Like, maybe keep some kleenex nearby.

I went over to CN's last night to watch tv with him. He's been a little down lately, because of his dad's poor health. I wanted to see how he was doing and besides, I missed him. (Yes, I miss him after 18 hours. Shut up.)

"Hi Babe!" I said, walking in the front door.

"Hi!" he said from the couch. He was watching tv.

Then, I went over to explain to him why I was at his house, instead of making him a peach cobbler like I told him I was going to do. It's because I can't keep the fresh peaches longer than 6 hours before they rot (I have no idea what is up with that, but it's very frustrating). After three tries of using fresh, local peaches, I had given up and decided to use frozen peaches. I had originally planned on baking the cobbler on Sunday, but we had been at the hospital all day and the defrosted frozen peaches had rotted in the fridge and yadda yadda yadda...

That's when I noticed he had a Bible next to him.

Not that this is totally out of the question, because he and I have talked about God before and we both pray before we fall asleep at night, and I do want to start going to church again. But he and I don't really crack open a Bible at the end of the day, either. This was out of the ordinary.

I knew it had to do with his dad. Something was up. Which stinks, because he's the kind of guy who doesn't like to talk about crappy stuff, like sick parents. Basically, we are opposite in this way. Which leaves me not really knowing what to do. Do I ask and make him uncomfortable? Do I make him talk about it, because I know it's good to talk about this stuff, even if it isn't exactly a picnic? Or do I allow him to remain quiet and lost in his thoughts? Should I just STFU and watch tv? To be honest, I haven't exactly learned what to do when it comes to Serious Crappiness Relating to The Boyfriend. I am sort of trying to learn what to do as I go, and hoping that I don't upset him or piss him off in the process. I will be the first to admit that he and I are still learning how to communicate with each other in certain situations. [See post from earlier this week...]

I decided to just ask.

"Have you talked to your mom?" I squeaked, hesitatingly.

"Yeah."

And that's when he told me. His dad is getting radiation all week, and going home on Friday to recuperate. If the radiation doesn't work, the doctors are giving him 6 weeks to live. If it does work, they are giving him 8 months. Eight months. Best case scenario. Fuck. Actually, you know what, "fuck" doesn't even begin to express how much this sucks. For him. For CN. For their family. Stop and imagine how it would feel if you got this news. "Hey, by the way, that person you love very much? That person you have known your whole life? Yeah, they won't be here next summer. This is a good time to take that vacation you've always talked about."

Kinda puts stuff in perspective, huh?

The doctors want his parents to sign all the end-of-life paperwork. Which is not fun to fill out, because it asks questions like, "If you are unable to breathe on your own, do you want the doctors to resuscitate you or not?" and "Would you want to be on life support? Have feeding tubes? Be in a permanent vegetative state? Or do you want us to pull the plug?"

As you can probably tell, it's not looking good. And unless you've been through this type of shit with your own loved ones, you are not fully grasping it, let me tell you. I helped my mom fill out that form when my dad was really sick. He died a month to the day after we filled out that paperwork. When the doctor told CN's mom he wanted her to fill it out, I knew what it meant (oh shit, that's not good), but I could tell that CN and his mom did not fully grasp it. The look on their faces was more along the lines of, "That's just a precaution, right? Right?"

I was filled with flashbacks. If you are in the club, too, you are probably having flashbacks of your own loved one's illness right now, as you are reading this. What club am I talking about? The Grief Club. Not exactly a club I was hoping to be a part of. Anyway, until you have lost a close relative or loved one, you cannot understand what it's like. You think you do, but you don't, trust me. When I was in your shoes, I thought I could understand what grief was like, too.

Grief is like a brick wall of sadness. And you hit it, face first, at about 95mph. Again and again and again. All day long. Every 2 minutes. Until further notice. It could be a week. Or a month. Or a few months. Or the rest of your life. It's like being trapped on a scary rollercoaster, wanting to get off, but never being allowed. You can't talk. You can't think, unless you are thinking sad things. You can't look people in the eye. You want to be alone, but at the same time, you want to be surrounded by people. It feels weird to laugh, but you want someone to tell a funny story about that person so badly, even if you cry and laugh at the same time. You definitely do not feel like yourself.

And then one day, you are ok. You start to feel non-zombie again, and you start to do normal things again. Like eating. And sleeping. And not crying every second of every day. You can go to the grocery store, and actually make it home before you burst into tears. This is good!

Every day gets a little bit easier. You are thinking, "Ok, cool. I made it. It's all going to be ok." And then WHAM it hits you again out of nowhere. Like when you see something that reminds you of that person. Or when someone's dying in a movie. Or when you pick up the phone to call them, and realize that you can't. WHAM. You're back on that rollercoaster.

Right now, I have volunteered to get back on the rollercoaster. Because I can't watch CN's family go through all of this without thinking about my dad. And I can't just opt out of being there for him during all of this. Heck, at this stage in my life, I practically have a PhD in Grief. I'm exactly the person who should be with CN right now. He needs me. And as difficult as this is going to be for me, I have to be there for him. It's part of my Official Girlfriend Duties. *salutes*

As we pulled into the hospital last Sunday, I said aloud without thinking, "This is the first time I've been in a hospital since my dad died." WHAM. CN doesn't know this, and I hate to admit it, but part of the reason I didn't go with him on Saturday was because I knew this would happen. I knew all the grief feelings would well up inside me again. And it's a sickening feeling. A helpless feeling. A sad feeling. And I know it's selfish of me, but who wants to sign up for feeling like that? I knew that if I went with him, I'd have to go there. To that painful place, full of tears and emotions and memories. I hate going there.

As we walked up to the room where CN's dad is, all I could think was, "Please don't let there be tubes coming out of his face. Please, no tubes. I can't handle tubes." Thankfully, there where no tubes. And the hospital didn't have that "hospital" smell. Which was a big relief, too. I hate that smell. It smells like sterile cotton pads, mixed with body fluids, cafeteria food and stale air. Seriously, if you work in a hospital, and you are reading this, can y'all buy some damn febreeze or something? Cuz you are just used to it, trust me. It smells like ass where you work.

I did ok during most of the visit, but it definitely had its WHAM moments. The beeping machines. The bags of fluids. It was a lot to take in, without much mental preparation. I did ok on Sunday, but ever since then, it's been a long descent. Back on the rollercoaster. I have been carefully repairing myself these last three years, putting all the grief feelings behind me. It's like I have been building a brick wall, one brick at a time, very slowly. Not that I would ever fully brick it up and close it up. That's impossible. It's with you always. But I had built a wall high enough that it didn't hurt anymore. It was starting to be ok to talk about it. Even feel happy about the time I did have with my dad. I felt ok putting it away. Way back in the long term storage area of my brain. Like a cherished toy from childhood. Not that it's not important to you anymore, but somehow, in a way, you have moved on. Enough time had passed. Life goes on. He's still there, with me, inside my heart. Death is part of life. It has taken me 3 years to get here.

And now, all the wounds are split open again. I get to experience it all, from the beginning stages to the end. Only this time, I am on the outside, mostly. It's like having an out-of-body experience. I am experiencing the same feelings, but in a different way. I know what's going to happen. I know there will be urgent phone calls and moments of hope that will be dashed to pieces. I know there will be lots of crying and exhaustion. I could probably predict every moment right now. But this time, there is a new element. I get to see someone I love very much deal with a whole lot of pain, and there's nothing I can do or say to prepare him for it. I can't stop it. I can't do a whole lot to make him feel better. This time, in addition to feeling my own grief well up inside of me, I have to watch someone I love feel grief for the first time, which is almost as painful, because I can't fully feel what he's feeling. I can only feel a ghost of my own grief. It's like sympathy pains. Kinda.

I know what is coming down the pipe for him and his family. It's like going to the doctor, knowing you are going to have to have a shot. You know it's going to suck, and there's no way out of it. Only with grief, it's like, 1,000 times worse. And I can try to describe it and warn him about it all I want, but I will never be able to. It's something he will have to experience with his family. The most I can do is be by his side. We will ride the roller coaster together.

Monday, Monday

Well, it's certainly Monday. Let's see. Where should I begin? I think I will ease into it with something funny.

I have told you how my little sister, Smurf, is a horrible driver. Well, despite a year's worth of practice, involving a learner's permit, driver's ed and much practicing with family members, she is no better today than she was the first time she got behind the wheel. Somehow, this did not stop the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles from issuing her a driver's license last month. Do not ask me how on earth she passed the driving test, but she did. So she got her license in mid-July. That was only a few weeks ago. She now has THREE tickets. She got them ALL on the same day: speeding, running a stop sign and driving on the wrong side of the road. "It was only for a second," she told me. "And there was no one else on the road." I told her that apparently, there was someone else on the road. She says she's learned her lesson, but I doubt that will be enough to convince the judge that he should not revoke her driver's license, which is probably what he will do. My poor mother and her insurance rates....yeesh.

This weekend, CN's dad had to go back to the hospital again. "Do you want to go with me to visit him?" CN asked me Saturday morning. I asked CN why he was in the hospital. CN was pretty vague. So I declined because...
1. The request was phrased in a way that made it seem optional.
2. It was my weekend off.
3. The hospital was an hour away.
4. I was having a dinner party that night for my girlfriends, and needed to prepare.
5. When my dad was sick, he was in the hospital a dozen times before things got serious.

By now, you have probably realized that "No" was the wrong answer. Unfortunately, I am not nearly as bright as my readers. Because I should have realized that CN isn't the kind of person who would say, "Look, I am really worried, and I really want you to come with me." Because if he had said that, then yes, I would have dropped everything and gone with him. But I am dense, and he downplays things, which leads to misunderstandings and people being upset. This is not the first time he has downplayed something important, and I was too stupid to figure it out.

By Sunday morning, he was pretty angry with me, and I could tell something was wrong. He told me I had really let him down and that he was really worried about his dad. I instantly felt like a candidate for Worst Girlfriend Ever, apologized and explained my reasoning to him. He agreed that he should have explained things better, and I canceled all my Sunday plans and went down with him to the hospital yesterday.

Not long after we got to the hospital, CN's mom took us to lunch, where she explained that CN's dad had been acting funny lately, which was part of the reason she had put him back in the hospital. She just had a hunch something wasn't right. So the doctor gave CN's dad a MRI (or was it a CT scan?) and we were waiting to hear the results. The doctor called when we got back from lunch. And the news was not good. CN's dad has prostate cancer that has metasticized all over his body. And the MRI showed that he now has lesions in his brain and they are bleeding. So he's being put back on radiation again today. It's not looking so hot. Because the doctors have actually had him on a break from the chemo/radiation treatments because his body can't really handle too much more. So I don't have a good feeling about all of this.

Obviously, I won't be skipping any more hospital visits, either. I am thinking I should maybe quit my Dildo's job, so I will have more free time to go with him to the hospital.

Then, at 2am last night, I was awakened by my roommate, E, again. She and her boyf broke up (again) and so instead of being at his house all the time, she's now at my house all the time. Which would be fine, except for the fact that she has insomnia, so she gets up all through the night, which wakes me up. She has woken me up just about every night for the last 2 weeks. It's getting old.

Anyway, at 2am last night, I awoke to the sound of her giggling. I got up to shut the door to my room, only to realize that there was a 2nd voice -- a man's voice -- giggling with her. In the shower.

"Great," I thought.

I was already upset about CN's dad and I had to get up early this morning for work. So I had a difficult time falling back asleep. I tossed and turned for at least an hour, furious at her inconsideration. When I got up this morning, I noticed that this random guy's car was still outside. This kind of annoyed me. I mean, if you want to hook up with random guys, fine. But do it on the weekend and make sure he's gone by the morning, you know?

I started to get ready for work, and as I'm getting ready, I hear my roommate quietly slip out and leave. That's unusual for her -- she usually asks me if her outfit looks okay every morning. And I didn't hear a man's footsteps following her. Hmmm.

I finished getting ready, trying to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But when I went to leave, I saw that the random guy's car was still parked outside, and my roommate was gone!

I. Was. Furious.

I threw open the door to her room and woke up Mr. Random.

"You have to leave. Now." I said, fuming.

"Ok," he replied, groggily.

I just stood there, waiting, with my hand on my hip, as he shuffled around, trying to get dressed.

"Let's go! I'm late for work! I'm leaving and you can't be here!" I yelled.

"It's not what it looks like. E and I have known each other for years," he said, trying to explain.

"Yesss," I hissed. "But I don't know who the fuck you are, and this is MY house, so you have to get the fuck out of my house. NOW."

Apparently, I communicated my rage very clearly, because he left the house in nothing but his boxer shorts! He carried the rest of his stuff and didn't even put his shoes on fully! LOL

"Did you see his wiener?" CN asked me later.

"No. And he's lucky, because I would have ripped it off!!!" I replied.

E and I are going to have a loooooong chat this afternoon, when I get home from work.

Wow. I was a total bitch this weekend, huh?