Bad Girl!

This weekend was fabulous!!!!

I met S on Friday night in NO at a bar that we've been frequenting lately. The atmosphere is okay, the lingerie show (that I've never attended) seems a bit skeevy, but they have the best hamburgers!!!!

So, we met up there, ate, drank, I got the key to the room and he headed off to work.

Ya'll, I didn't realize how tired I was.

I unloaded my car, took a scalding hot shower and climbed into bed. I fell asleep watching the second Harry Potter movie.

At some point, my cell rang and it was S:

"Hey baby! I'm gettin' out early. I'll be there in a little while."

Me, "Hmmwha . . . oh, okay, great!"

Him, "Ooooh, I'm sorry baby. I didn't realize you'd be asleep."

Me, "'sokay. I'll see you soon."

I clicked my phone shut, laid it on my stomach and fell back asleep.

I don't know how much later it was, but my phone rang again.

This time it scared the shit out of me because I wasn't expecting to hear the vibratine. So, I jumped and it must have slithered off of me because when I did a half-assed search for it I couldn't find it.

In the back of my mind I though, "That's probably S telling me he's in the lot."

And, I turned over in bed and fell back asleep.

Because . . . I am a bad girlfriend.

Ya'll, when you add the 4.5 hour drive to 4 consecutive 12-hour workdays and you finally shut down . . . you SHUT FUCKIN' DOWN!

I was OUT!

It turns out S was calling me from the other side of our room's door. Yeah, he'd left his key in his truck and wanted me to let him in.

I know, I know . . .

The whole weekend was kind of a blur. We lazed in bed most of Saturday morning and eventually headed out, but we were so tired we gave up on any grand plans we may have had for Saturday.

On Sunday we went to the Quarter where S bought me the prettiest ring ever (not that kind of ring)and a groovy shirt. I also picked up some earrings and a Valentine's Day gift for J.

Then, we headed to Canal Place to catch Sideways. I liked it because it appealed to my, "I'm almost 30 and what have I really done with my life" crisis that I'm going through.

Before the movie started, S slipped his arm around me and I cuddled against his chest and I said, "You know, House of Flying Daggers is playing at the Capri [Montgomery indie theater] this weekend."

S, "You want to go see it when I come up?"

Me, pulling away from him to look at his face "You're coming up to visit this weekend?"

Him, eyes narrowing and peering at me, "Noooo, I'm moving up this weekend."

Me, eyes darting around like the busted doofus that I am, "That's THIS weekend?"

That's right folks, S is moving up and I completely forgot about it.

I lost track of the dates. I thought there was another week left in January or something.

Because . . . I am a bad girlfriend.

So Tired

I'm tired.

So tired I'd like to just crawl into bed and sleep for days.

See, the place that I work for has a lot of members and lots of business to take care of. So, about once every quarter we throw a conference.

I don't know if any of you have ever hosted a conference, but typically it means 12-hour days. So yeah, I'm pretty tired right now.

The good news is that this weekend I'm going to be in New Orleans. That's right, I'm spending this weekend in S's arms and I can't think of any place I'd rather be.

But, before I sign off for the weekend, here's a song that is a few years old but I only listened to for the first time the other day (because, yeah, it's clear that I DO in fact live under a rock).

I Could Not Ask For More

Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
These are the moments I know heaven must exist
These are the moments I know all I need is this I have all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

Chorus
I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have's come true
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've got all I've waited for

And I could not ask for more

Chorus

I could not ask for more than the love you give me
'cuz it's all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more

So cheesy, right?

Bounce

I've grown up in a family of bouncers.

Not bar bouncers, car bouncers.

Car bouncing is this thing that my dad does when he gasses up the car.

The gas pump shuts off and my dad proceeds to bounce the car two or three times.

His theory is that this makes the gas settle and so you can top it off just a little bit more.

I know, I know . . .

The thing is, as crazy as it sounds, I bounce the car, too.

I kind of lean into it and give it a bounce.

This was an ongoing argument with J and I. The validity of bouncing and the dangers of topping off.

Not to long ago, I was riding around with S and realized I was low on gas (like, my light's been on for a while now so I guess I should get gas kind of low) and I decided to pull into the next gas station I found.

I pulled up to the pump, turned off the car and reached for my seatbelt and he said, "Stay, I'll do it."

I thought, "That's nice, cool."

So, I leaned in and gave him a kiss and off he went.

I sat in the car fiddling with the radio station and just as I heard the pump click off I felt the car bounce.

Once, twice . . . three times.

He got in the car, I grinned and asked, "Did you just bounce the car?"

Him, "Huh? Oh, yeah. You know you can add just a little bit more gas that way."

Hee.

Baby Mine

Last night I worked late.

Really late. So when I got home I just wanted to veg out. I reheated some Chinese food and settled down in front of the tv. I was flipping channels and I ran across this:

"Cindy Margolis Inside Out"

I didn't know who Ms. Margolis was prior to watching this show. But, here's a link to her website: http://www.cindymargolis.com/ so from the looks of her I kind of thought Inside Out was going to be something about her rise as a porn star or something.

As someone who harbors a secret ambition to be a porn star (or at least a stripper, because . . . how fucking cool would that be!), I was immediately compelled to watch. (My strpper name would be something along the lines of Brown Sugar or Hot Mami.)

Imagine my disappointment when it turned out to be a special on Ms. Margolis and her hubby's struggles with infertility and their attempt to conceive through In Vitro Fertilization (IVF).

Maybe it's because I'm 29 and childless with no spouse to father my children. Maybe it's because I have friends who've been unable to have babies, but this show thoroughly sucked me in.

I sat there for an hour, watching her spouse shoot her up with hormones, listening to them argue about the need to get the shot at the exact time every day (which, you don't but it gave her peace of mind so shutupyoubigtool because if it makes her feel better and she's all hormonal anyway so you'd better fucking just suck it and be late to that goddamn Laker game. JACKASS!)

And then I cried.

SPOILER ALERT!

First I got upset because she didn't have enough embryos to put a couple on ice in case this didn't work.

Then, it started out with this lump in my throat when she told her spouse that she didn't want to go to the clinic and get the pregnancy test. As if she was trying to hold on to the ignorance of not knowing and believing in possibility.

I sniffled because she knew that emotionally she couldn't go through the weeks of shots again if it didn't happen this time.

Then I cried because her pregnancy test came out negative.

And then I kind of freaked out because . . . HELLO!

I'm 29 with no children and no spouse. I want children someday dammit.

What if I can't have any!?!

When I look at family history, it would appear that I will be able to conceive until my early forties. But you know what, that sometimes doesn't matter. My friend C's sisters all easily conceived well into their 30's, as did their mother, but it just wasn't a go for C.

She started going through perimenopause at 29!

I realize I'm overreacting and the fact that I'm due to start my period soon isn't helping matters, but I get sad at the thought of not having my own child.

I know adoption is an option, but I actually want to go through the experience of being pregnant, labor, delivery and nursing. (I know it's not going to be a picnic, but I walked home on a broken leg once so I figure I might have a reasonably high pain tolerance.)

I get sad at the idea of not being able to tell my husband, "Honey, I'm pregnant!" and then watching his face break out into a huge grin.

I want to feel him put his hand on my tummy, lay with my head on his chest and ask, "So, do you think it's going to be a boy or a girl."

I want him to help me fight the good fight against stretch marks and help me slather cocoa butter on my growing bump.

I want him to kiss that bump and hear him say, "Come on little one, I can't wait to hold you."

I want him there with me on the big day, when I'm cussing him out and telling him I'll never allow him to touch me again because the pain is so consuming, helping me bring into this world the lovely little baby that's about to change our lives forever.

If it doesn't happen, I guess I can always try and make that whole porn star/stripper thing work.

Best Boyfriend Evah!

Reasons why S rocks!

1. The man knows his way around plumbing!

I moved into an apartment that's in a building that's being renovated. Well, I don't think my landlord expected anyone in there so soon, but when faced with the prospect of a rent check he let me move in.

When I looked at the apartment the water was cut off.

So, imagine my surprise when I moved in and learned that the faucet in the bathroom sink runs continuously . . . when it's in the off position.

I couldn't even use the cut-off valve under the sink because IT was a few twists from falling apart. S came up, replaced my faucet and cut-off valve. I've snaked drains and such, but I don't think I would have known what all to get to accomplish this job. That night, I slept in the quiet silence of my apartment without the sound of the gentle waterfall from my bathroom. I think the cats were a little disappointed.

2. He fixed my rocky toilet.

I told you, it's an old building.

When I'd lean forward the toilet would rock. In a way it was kind of nice and soothing to take care of business while gently rocking, but I was starting to feel a bit like Rainman.

3. He saved me from the heart attack I might have had if that scary ass Camel Cricket had jumped in my face.

4. When I got home from work he had the massage chair set up with a glass of red wine next to it.

5. He knows how to wake me up without unleashing my inner bitch.

6. He can set up my wireless internet connection.

7. He can fix my roommates internet connection when the fools at Knology can't.

That's just the tip of the iceberg . . .

Payback!

"When I was in seventh grade I transferred to a Catholic school from public school and it was a difficult transition.All of the kids had known each other since kindergarten and were super close. They let me in for maybe three months and then someone made up a ridiculous rumor about me and I found out because when I walked up to a group of girls chatting, they literally shut me out. I tried to take a spot where there was an opening in the group and they promptly shifted to shut it."

I know right, how cheesy that I'm quoting my own blog!! But, I didn't feel like linking back to an entry so deal.

So, this past holiday season I went to a friend's Christmas party. It's always more or less the same group, but I had a lot more fun this year. I think it was partly because it was the first time I wandered the room unattached so more people came up to me and talked to me.

In particular, this one woman I'll call Bitchin' (which she totally was!). So, Bitchin' comes up to me and says, "I've seen you at these get togethers before, but we've never talked. My name is Bitchin'."

We started doing the polite chit-chat thing and I bring up that I'm from N.O and went to LSU. And, she starts talking about how her hubby went to LSU Law School and they get together for the U of A game every year! Then, she started dropping random last names, and one of them made me ask: Chlorine?!? One of the BITCHES that made my life hell in 7th and 8th grade!!!!! (I might not have said that last part.)

I nearly fell out of my chair (of course, the killer punch may have had something to do with THAT).

I was all, "Oh, I haven't seen her in ages. Really not since '89, how is she?"

Of course, she's still perfect!!!!

She's a lawyer living with her lawyer husband in a super trendy part of N.O. where people like Sissy Spacek own homes!

Anyway, I kind of laughed and said, "You know, I didn't really know her all that well. I only remember one story that typifies how she was back then."

Bitchin' says, "Oh GOD! You've got to tell me!"

Me, "Okay, we were in eighth grade Algebra and our teacher got on Chlorine. She was all, 'If you don't learn how to do this then how will you be able to figure out how much gas you need to mow the lawn?" to which Chlorine wrinked up her nose, tilted her head and said, "I'll just let the gardener figure it out!"

Bitchin' laughed so hard she snorted.

At which point, Bitchin' says, "Oh, that's so typical. My spouse went to fancy private schools all his life and so did Chlorine. I went to the county school and Chlorine's husband went to public schools, too. Anyway, on our way back from one of the LSU games to N.O. all of a sudden there was this loud noise from one of the tires. I was all, 'Pull over, we need to look at this now.' So, Chlorine's husband and I are like, 'Get the jack and tire iron . . . " and Chlorine and my husband are standing behind us, totally afraid to get dirty asking, "Can't we just call somebody?"

Which, you know, made me just smirk and nod my head.

There's one other "moment" with Chlorine that I remember that I just couldn't bring myself to share.

We had to do some sort of poster. I don't even remember what it was now, but my brother helped me with it. So, she comes up to me, all sweet and nice and says,

"Nice poster! Did you do all that yourself?"

I was ridiculously shy then and quietly said,

"No. My brother helped me with some of the drawing."

She totally dropped the sweet act, squinted her eyes at me and said, in the snottiest tone,

"Yeah, we figured," and returned to her pack.

Ugh! It was little moments like that, that made me terrified of her.

She'd be so sweet and then cut you with the snittiest little remark.

What was worse was that it was a small school and all the teachers knew how much money her daddy had AND she was a straight-A student: so, all the teachers thought she was just a ray of sunshine.

Bitchin' admitted, "She's irritatingly perfect and happy, but she's really pretty cool now. She's really laidback."


Which was kind of nice to hear.


I realize that 7th and 8th grade (ages 12 and 13) are trying times for all of us. She was probably just as insecure as I was and we spent so much time hating ourselves that we took it out on those around us.


I'm big enough to forgive and forget.


Also, I promised to send them her eighth grade picture as it's huge and she's got braces and
PERMED BANGS in it!


Turns out Bitchin's husband handles the alumni newsletter for his law school.


AWESOME!

Meant For Each Other

Ya'll know I just moved right?

Well, this weekend I was reorganizing my shoe rack and S walked into the room to see what I was up to.

I hear him quietly say, "Baby?"

I straightened up, turned to look at him and asked, "What's up?"

Him, still quiet, "Walk away from the closet and don't look back."

So, I did. And I, now whispering, asked, "Big bug?"

Him, still in sotto voce, "Oh yeah."

So, I slowly turned to look into my closet and expected to find this:




Which, yeah, would have freaked me out and I would have jumped on the bed like a big baby, but I could have sent in one of the cats and that would have been the end of that.

Those lazy asses might sleep most of the day, but you but a twitchy bug in front of them and it's ALL OVER! We're talking JUNGLE CAT baby!!!!

But, OH NO, what I saw, was THIS:



Which, made me go, "Huh?" And, I don't know if you can tell here, but it's got a really long, mean, looking horn or something coming out of it's butt: so, you know, the cats were not an option.

So I said, "Okay, let's just slowly take out the clothes and see if we can't catch it. Then we'll just let it go outside."

And S, bless his heart, gulped and really coolly said, "Yeah, okay."

So, I went into the kitchen, found an old jar and with S using a playing card (like standard size, not some big ass UNO card or anything) we popped it into the jar and closed the lid.

Now that it was contained, we both had the opportunity to take a better look.

Neither of us had ever seen anything like it before and when we had fulfilled our curiousity he offered to take it outside.

I said, "Okay, but let it go on the other side of the street. You know, in case it decides it wants to come back here it at least has to make an effort."

And, just, just as he's headed out the front door I called for him, "Hey S?"

Him, "Yeah?"

Me, "You know, while we've got him we'd might as well take a picture."

He grins, shows me the camera he's got behind his back and says, "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

I smiled and said, "We gotta look that up!"

Him, now blushing, "Yeah, I was gonna check my bug book."

When he came back in from the release I asked him how it went and he said he had to tap it out of the jar and it stood there for a second and then just sauntered away.

I guess when you look like that you have very little reason to run away from anything.

(FYI: It's a Camel Cricket. Harmless to people, but it has been known to feast on fabric.)

Baby Got Back . . . and side, and middle.

I'm fat.

Now, from that one picture of my face I look okay, but trust me when I tell you it's all about angles.

Lately, I've just been feeling really fucking fat.

It was confirmed for me at my doctor's appointment last week. He didn't mention the weight gain, but I fucking cringed every time the nurse inched the scale towards a region that I'll refer to as, "Fat Ass."

I'm at a weight that I'm not happy with, AT ALL!

My whole life I've been up and down in weight. But lately I feel like I've been at a constant up.

And, I'm worried.

I'm worried that some day I'll hit a point where I get the courage to just decide to be fat and then let myself get yooooge!

But, it's not just that I'm fat right now.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of trying on clothes that look too tight.

I'm tired of being tired.

I'm tired of flinching when my boyfriend run's his hands over my body. (And, God bless this man because he knew me back in the day when I was so small I could have turned sideways and disappeared and he still, STILL thinks I'm as sexy as day one.)

And, oh God, he wants to take nekkid pictures of me. Not dirty, dirty ones or anything, but I'm terrified. Terrified that when he looks at the pictures he's going to realize, "Trixie is fat!"

Because pictures don't lie people; they are hard evidence!!!

And, you know, it's a new year and new beginnings and whatnot.

But, I'm not making any resolutions.

I'm not going on a diet.

I've got some of it down, it's not like I'm eating cheeseburgers, fried chicken, biscuits and fries.

The truth is, those things wreak havoc on my system.

I can't eat greasy, high fat foods, so for the most part I don't.

Because the truth is, I don't eat until I sigh.

My problem is a general lack of activity.

The saddest thing?

I actually have a gym membership that goes unused most months.

I know! (I'm actually sitting here frowning and slowly shaking my head.)

Anyway, that's one of my life goals for this year.

To put my gym membership to good use and to run/walk at least one 5k this year.

This one year, I did the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 5k and I shit you not: the bald, recovering chemo patients had faster times than I did!

So, not only do I want to finish a 5K, I'd like to do it with a respectable time.

Other personal goals?

To write more fiction.

To submit at least one piece for publication.

To procrastinate less.

To arrive at work ON TIME.

To give it one final push at going to the gym before work! (J! I can hear you! I can hear the big loud Chris, "HA!" all the way from Cali buddy!)

To celebrate 30 like I'm the first person to ever turn 30!

To write more letters. Real honest to goodness letters on my pretty, pretty stationery.

I've also got all these books that are wonderfully introspective and give you tasks to complete on your quest towards self-discovery. I know that sounds incredibly hippified, but I'm looking forward to working through some of them.

Anyway, that's it for the new year.

It's not particularly original, but it feels better getting it out there.

Tune back later on my weekend and why S rocks!!!!