It ain’t easy being me

This was an email to a couple of friends. They said it should be a blog. I tend to obey pretty well 🙂

So, Tuesday night I fell off the curb at my place and screwed up my ankle and skinned my knee….just call me Grace!
Then last night I’m driving to the dog park. Out of no where the car in front of me swerves, by the time I notice this I see what they were swerving for and run right over it.
Of course, this big plastic bucket thing gets stuck under my car (turns out it was a kitty litter bucket–obviously the universe telling me to change the cat box) So I’m driving up 65 just hoping that the thing comes unstuck and doesn’t fly out the back of my car and hit the car behind me. This doesn’t happen so I take the next exit, go to a gas station and pull the kitty litter bucket out from under my car.
I think, at this point, everything is fine and we go towards the dog park. Then I hear another dragging noise and realize that the plastic guard thing under the front of my car is probably dragging a bit and decide I’ll look at it when I get to the dog park.
The noise gets louder and louder as I drive. Crazy homeless people are looking at me like I’m nuts. I’m pretty sure I saved a man’s life who was getting beat up because the thugs were so amazed at the white girl with the loud car. I finally pull over and take a look.  It’s basically holding on my very little plastic, so I get on my (skinned) knees, in a dress and proceed to yank the whole thing off. Just as I’m getting my injured, dirty ass up off the road, cute guy drives up and asks if I need help.
“Do girl’s in dresses with skinned knees and dirty hands carrying large plastic car parts turn you on?” is what I thought.
“Nope I’m good” is what I said.
Sometimes I wonder why I even risk leaving the house.
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Single People Deserve to Die

A coworker of mine found out that their spouse (a salesperson) was scheduled to take a trip out of the country to an area that had been on the news lately because of outbursts of violence. Among the many reasons they came up with as to why this was a horrible idea (which I agree it was) was “It’s not like (they’re) a single person, they have a spouse.”

All of a sudden it became so clear. Since I have not married, my life is expendable. Phew, now I don’t feel nearly as bad for spending the weekend watching “Deadliest Catch” and eating dip. I probably will stop wearing my seat belt, start running with scissors and perhaps I should take up smoking or a nice heroin habit. Seeing as I am a 34 year old single person, it’s not like it would matter as much. I mean really, I’ve only got one ovary and fallopian tube left and at my ever advancing age, the likelihood of me procreating gets smaller every day.

Sure, I have pets, but they are just animals. I have family and such, but no one has chosen to be legally tied to me, therefore, I’m expendable.

I mean really people, how easy is it to be single?!?! I have one salary with which I pay for all my expenses. Luckily I have the opportunity to buy engagement, wedding, baby shower and other gifts for those people who have found someone who wants to have legal ties to them. It makes me understand that not only is my life not worth as much, but that all milestones in my life aren’t worth as much because Target doesn’t have a registry for “Single Girl’s New Place” or “Heather Needs a New Handbag” or “Dog and Cat Toys are Free.”  I don’t mean to imply that I begrudge my married and baby-making friends, but damn y’all, with a life as non-momentous as mine apparently has been, it hurts the ego.

I have the strength of one person to carry groceries up the stairs.  If a bug needs killing, it’s all me. If someone invites me to do something, pretty much no other person on the planet gives a shit if i do it or not. I mean, hell, I’m SUPER expendable since I don’t even have siblings. I’m like the SUPER SINGLE PERSON. I was born single, grew up single, hit mid-life (ish) single and at this point it’s looking like old age is going to be single for me too. It’s almost selfish of me to have a job. A job that could go to a married person with a family. But that’s how we single folks roll……

The single person really hardly even deserves a vacation, unless to go to a wedding, baby shower, funeral or other occassion. Once we hit our 30’s it gets hard to find a group of single folk (or open minded marrieds) who are apt to want to take the same vacation. Luckily for me, being an only child and all, I can take vacations with my parents….that isn’t pitiful at all!

I hate to sound like a whiner. I suppose I’m lucky that I haven’t been put in a home for spinsters by now. I’m fortunate that I’m allowed to walk the same streets and pay the same taxes as those who have legal ties to others. Maybe I’ll take the route of this lady at least I’d be married.

A death in the family

My Uncle Jim died a few weeks ago. Before you think “Oh—how sad” let me tell you a few things about this man. He abused my father’s sister both physically and mentally for who knows how long. Even when her debilitating depression and MS was at its worse, his wrath did not subside. In addition to his dubious skills as a husband, he also had some interesting ideas on parenting. His oldest son apparently made a good punching bag and his youngest child, a daughter, was a sex toy from the time she was 8 until she was 13. Only his middle son seems to have survived youth with minimal physical abuse at the hands of a parent. But, the mental and emotional scars are all over all three of my cousins.

 

For the last 11 months of Uncle Jim’s life he was in the hospital. Heart surgery, constant infections and pretty much anything else you can imagine was what he dealt with on a daily basis. Karma was doing its thing on this one. Shortly after my aunt died, my uncle remarried and this woman was by his side through all of this time. She ingratiated herself with my cousin’s wife (who knew nothing of the “ways” of this man) and took the role of Grandmother to their three boys. She blogged almost daily about her husband’s condition and often mentioned the “grandsons” and occasionally my cousin’s wife. Rarely, hardly ever really, did she mention her husband’s children.

 

About two weeks before my uncle (I have yet to come up with a term for him that shows no real connection to me) died, his wife emailed my cousin, the middle child, and once again chastised him and his siblings for being so uninterested in his father’s condition. She went so far as to say that Jim had always told her that his kids abandoned their mother when she was dying (a falsehood!) and he expected them to do the same to him. This set my cousin off in ways I can’t even believe, yet completely understand. He directed her to contact his sister and see what some of the reason that they have issues with their father might be.

 

My cousin was contacted and she spilled the whole story to “the wife” who retorted with “Oh yeah, I knew that.”

 

Really? She knew that and still asked why the kids weren’t holding vigils at their father’s bedside? Seriously, who in the world did she think she was kidding? If she did know, she is as twisted as her husband was!

 

If you ever have the opportunity to go to the funeral of someone who was hated by most who really knew him, do it. Be prepared for surreal moments. There will be very apparent “sides” taken at the gathering after the service. There may be no flowers at the church….NONE! The widow will probably be sitting alone until she gets pity from her 6-year-old “grandson” who decides to sit by her. Discussions of the deceased won’t be about shared happy moments, but more likely comparing notes of how they messed up with nearly all of the people there. Everyone will be asking themselves why they came and most will come up with the same answer “For the kids.” Then you realize that the kids are asking themselves why they are there. I guess the answer on that is a societal obligation, or perhaps it is to make sure the bastard is really dead.

 

Folks say death is final….but it’s not. There are numerous things to be dealt with after the death of a family member. Many of these things have financial ramifications. In the case of my uncle, he apparently made sure that his wife was taken care of….and no one else. Not his children whose lives he nearly destroyed, not his grandson’s he claimed to love so much. No one but the woman who was stupid enough to marry him at the age of 49. He was her prince charming. Never has life as a “spinster” been more appealing to me. This woman is making sure that her husband is able to get one last jab in at his kids. His kids who have done the best they can with the hand they were dealt. A hand that was dealt with anger and inappropriate behavior and fear.

 

I know this whole thing is far from over. But I feel that I will be closer to my cousins now and they will be closer with each other.

 

Upon my departure for the memorial service, my boss gave me a eulogy to give to my uncle.

 

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

You’ll burn in Hell

For fucking with us

 

Adios Uncle Jim, you monstrous bastard.

Lyrical Truth….

Nobody’s Girl                                                                                                                                        (W. Braun/ M. Braun)                                                                                                                             The first man that you ever loved
Left your mamma, never said goodbye to anyone
And you were raised with your head held high
But any fool can see it’s just a clever disguise

You’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl

You’ve always been a little scared to open your heart
And you never let anybody take it too far
You never let em’ on the inside
‘Cause you’re always scared of getting taken for a ride

You’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl

Everybody wants you but you don’t wanna care
So you keep em’ at a distance with the frown you wear
You spend your time trying to even the score
And you’ve got it in your head you deserve a lot more
The first one was a total disaster
So was the second one and every one after
But when you’re breaking in a broken home
You’re gonna be sure to spend some nights on your own

When you’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl
You’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl
You’re nobody’s girl

This is one of my favorite songs by my favorite band. It has been suggested that this is MY song and perfectly explains me. No amount of love for the band or the song can make that statement not suck.

This is a HORRIBLE song to have people think it about me. Sure, there are some similarities to situations in my life. Sure, most of my nights are spent in bed with a dog and two cats, not some hot fella. Of course, it has been expressed to me that I tend to keep folks at a distance, but I don’t frown that often!

Fine, this is SO my life. Again, the illustrious Braun brothers have insight to me without even knowing me. Now how do I change this?????

 

Married!!!!!

Let’s preface this with some general statements concerning me and my thoughts on marriage. I respect the institution of marriage. I still hold out some hope that one day I will be married. Marriage isn’t easy under the best circumstances, but can be completely worth the effort. In general, I believe that most of my friends’ marriages are enviable.

I have a friend. He is a musician. He is one of the nicest people I have ever met, but has a “naughty” streak that makes him all the more likable. He’s got a great talent, a raspy voice, an amazing sense of humor and a wife. His wife is gorgeous, but not in a fake, Hollywood way. She is gorgeous in a way that I want to be gorgeous. She is fun to be around, easy to talk to and they love each other in the sweet simple way that is a treat to see.

My friend has not only musical talent, but a talent for making me feel special. When we talk it’s like I’m the only person in the room. He asks me questions about my life, my opinions on things, etc…and listens. Listens, and months or years later will bring these things up, so he not only listens, he retains what I’ve said to him. He has a devilish smile and these dimples that tear me up. He winks at me from the stage. He swears he can hear my screams over others in the crowd and he appreciates how much I pay attention to the shows.  He buys me drinks. He puts me on the list from time to time. He makes sure I’m aware of any show within a 6 hour drive of Nashville and calls me when the band is coming through town on the way to somewhere else. Again, he has a wife.

We got to chat this weekend after a show. Apparently some medication I am on makes me about as hormonal as a teenage boy. So, as we chatted, we got closer and closer to each other. Someone called to him that they were going to another bar, and he nodded that he was going to stick around where we were for awhile. Each comment either one of us made seemed to necessitate a hug or other touching. In any other situation, things would have been moving in the exact direction I wanted them to. But he’s married. At some point, the angel on my shoulder took over (the devil was probably getting a cocktail or something) and I decided to ask how the wife was. Had our conversation been taking place in a cartoon, you would have heard brakes squealing and smoke would have emanated from our bodies. We talked about his wife for a bit and he mentioned how much she and I have in common, etc…but the turn had been taken. The devil was back on my shoulder and was PISSED, but I felt as though a good decision had been made.

Later in the evening, after being mis-directed to another bar, etc…we (Snikki, the boy and I) ended up at a funky bar just chatting and having cocktails. I never am at a loss for words with him, but I’m pretty sure I could sit in silence with him just as easily. Being around him makes me feel comfortable and happy and (sometimes) happy in my panties. In the end however, we are friends and he is married. So I will be content knowing how fortunate I am to know this awesome fella and be left with my imagination, memories of the best hugs ever and the little lick in the ear that closed off the evening…

Single Girl’s Guide to Moving

I just moved into a new apartment. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, gated community, super close to my favorite grocery store. All good things. However, I still haven’t quite moved completely OUT of my old apartment. I have until midnight tonight to make that break-up final. To take all my stuff, including all my trash, and be done with the place. I suddenly feel like one of those girls who can’t get out of a relationship without being almost in another one.

Here’s the deal with my old place. I’d been there 7 years. For the most part everything was cool. But we were just moving in different places. I was moving to a place in my life that I didn’t want to be packed like a sardine into my home and it was moving into a place where black mold grows.

If you ever want to feel completely alone in the world, move by yourself. Make sure you’ve lived in your place for awhile, have animals who like to place things under furniture and have a tendency to keep stuff longer then you should. In order to get the full effect and complete alone experience, have lots of random things that can’t really be boxed up and make sure to live on at least the second floor and move to a new place that is also at least on the second floor. OOOO…having a small car helps too.

Once you get the keys to the new place, bring over fun things, like clothes and such. Carefully consider the order of the new closets and take lots of time to place things just so. Only put a little bit of stuff in your car at a time so you can drive back and forth as much as possible, while fooling yourself that you are accomplishing things. Go ahead, take a nap.

Make sure that whatever outfit you choose to move in makes you feel especially unattractive and then work up a good sweat. i also suggest being in dire need of a root touch up and a bang trim so you have more hair ornaments keeping things “in place” then a Eastern European gymnast.

Pack your boxes as heavy as possible. Once you’ve lost the packing tape for the fifteenth time, start putting heavy things in trash bags. Then sort of drag the trash bags a bit so they start to fall apart as you put them in the car. Make mental notes of the things you need at Target, and then quckly forget it. Make at LEAST 4 trips to Target and spend as much of your hard earned money as possible at each trip.

Once the movers come…..oh yes, you HAVE to hire movers,with no upper body strength and a 99 Saturn Coupe, there ain’t no way that big fluffy red chair will make it to the new place.  Once the movers come, make sure you remember that you have a bunch of stuff in two closets. Fool yourself into thinking that it’s not much stuff and will be like one trip. Start to realize that your attachment to things lessens when you start to think about taking it up the stairs at your new place and finding a new place to stash it for another 7 years. The movers will be super sweet….awww, poor girl ain’t gots no man to help her move….and will move your stuff faster then any group of friends could think of doing, and they don’t complain to your face.  During this portion of the move, you will feel good about things. Try to remember that feeling later when you are sitting in the shambles of your former home disgusted at the dust bunnies and unidentifiable stains that have been hidden by the furniture for lord knows how long. Recall it also when you wish your dog could be trusted to run down to Lowes and get a new vent for the dryer so you could at least finish drying the clothes that are in the dryer….sorry Wade the mover, glad you’re so strong!

Go grab some lunch on the way back to the old place. Make sure you’ve been eating fast food for the past few days so you can push your body physically while giving it the worst fuel possible. Sit on the floor of your old living room and hold back the tears at the amount of crap that is still left to deal with. Realize that there is no one to call to get help from. Curse yourself and your chronic procrastination. Go into the closet and wonder if there is really any reason to hold onto the prom dress your mom sewed for you or your grandparents china.

Take a few bags of trash down to the dumpster. Wish that instead of watching 5 hours of America’s Next Top Model, you had gone out Saturday night and found some nice, strong boy who would love to carry heavy things and take trash out in return for sexual favors. Must be clean, cute is optional. 

Make sure to have an appointment on your moving day for something completely unrelated, say taking your dog to the vet for shots. Once you have cleared whatever momentum you had going, make sure to add as many expenses to the trip as possible. Extra heartworm pills and flea treatment….bring it on. You’re already hemorrhaging money at this point, what’s a couple hundred more dollars.

Work yourself to supreme exhaustion. To where you are driving in the turn lane for a couple of miles before you notice. Don’t take pain pills until day 3….then curse yourself for not working out more (i.e. at all)

Figure out a way to postpone the final cleaning of your apartment and go to your new place. Bask in the glory of being alone. All alone. Alone in that big apartment with a big new bed that you will also sleep alone in (save your pets, who are apt to be pissing you off at this point because they are stressed and you find yourself actually saying to them “what the fuck do YOU have to be stressed about?!?”) Take a bath and shave your legs above the knee for no one.  Figure out how to hook up your DVD player and watch a couple of hours of Sex and the City. Make sure to watch the season where Carrie has no man and such. Season 5 I believe it is. It’s all about confusing messages from males and such….good times! Go to bed, exhausted and already anticipating the pain of the next day and trying to divise a way to just leave your old place as is without going broke with “cleaning charges.”  Snuggle up to your dog and convince yourself that even though he can’t carry anything, or help pack or clean and has out of nowhere shit on the floor of your new place, you really LOVE being single.

What’s on my mind today.

  1. a certain friend who is being distant these days. When I ask them about something in particular they indicate that I don’t know what’s going on with their world right now and when I point out that the inquiry was attempting to remedy that precise situation, they say nothing.
  2. an email a friend sent me the other day about “farting strawberries” that continues to make me laugh out loud.
  3. how men can walk into the bathroom with a cup of coffee or other beverage in their hands and do their business. Even if they put the cup on the counter, who knows what kind of “spray” is floating around there. My office is across from the men’s room and I have offered my desk, etc…as a storage spot for beverages. Not nearly enough of them have taken me up on this offer.
  4. sometimes I think that I don’t express aspects of my personality and interest correctly. For example, I love to go to art shows, etc….but I think most people think I’m just a bar type gal.
  5. in addition to art, I also enjoy this immensely. If only I could roller skate and was at all a bad ass.
  6. I want attention from boys, but I don’t want to have to ask for it. Wait, correction, I want attention from certain boys.
  7. most people don’t get me. It’s not that I’m all complicated or anything, I think people just don’t know what to make of me a lot of the time. I guess it makes sense since I don’t know what to make of myself a lot of the time. Perhaps I need to find more folks who are willing to come along for the ride.
  8. There is a boy/man in my office whose hair I want to run my fingers through. In a meeting yesterday I could vividly imagine myself reaching across the table and doing just that. I even think my arm twitched a bit in an effort to move my imagination into reality.
  9. I can’t wait to move into my new place, but HATE packing.
  10. If I look just to the right of my monitor I see my Tim Gunn bobblehead and a chair that has one of my old bridesmaid dresses and a box with a broken piggy bank in it.
  11. My hair needs to be colored in the worst way.
  12. Everyone keeps coming in and “borrowing” my flavored coffee creamer. Whatever.
  13. There is a member of my family who is dying. This person has done terrible things and has pretty much ruined a segment of my family. However, they have recreated themselves for people who don’t know the “other stuff” and those people are completely devastated at the idea of the loss. I feel bad for the people who are able to live in ignorant bliss about this person.
  14. I miss my girlfriends in Cali. like crazy. Recently I’ve just wished it was like 9 years ago and we were all ruling the music department at a So Cal Borders with caustic wit and more estrogen then you can shake a stick at. The best part is that, even though we don’t see each other very often (and I see them the least of all) I know that they will always have my back and I will always have theirs.
  15. I really wish the damn IT guy would come load iTunes on my computer!!!!
  16. cupcakes again……
  17. my dog
  18. how my March madness bracket could have gone SO badly. However, not badly enough for me to be in last place in the work pool, where I would at LEAST get my $10 back!

Ok–that’s all. My mind has just stopped suddenly. I will now go watch the clock countdown until I will leave the office and go to the bar to play some trivia and drink some vodka…..but seriously, I do like art 🙂

Where’s Kellie Pickler when you need her?

So, former American Idol contestant Kellie Pickler doesn’t know for sure if France is a country. Nor does she realize that Europe is NOT a country, but rather a continent. However, she is not in a partnership with Forbes magazine and posting articles about where all the wealth is stored.

Articles such as this one http://money.aol.com/forbes/general/where-the-worlds-wealth-is-stored.  Perhaps if I saw Ms. Pickler’s byline I would not be surprised at the fact that they have placed Fort Knox in Tennessee, NOT Kentucky, where it actually is.

That’s how we do in the South.  Shelbyville is NOT in Shelby County, Memphis is. Knoxville IS in Knox County, but Fort Knox is not. Try to keep up AOL. They did do one smart thing and not have a place for comments on this article.

First no high speed and now this……..