Imagine if you will a world where no one tells the truth.
No, this entry is not about the Bush Administration. This entry is about a horse I can't bring myself to let die.
In life, if we are lucky, there are a handful of friends that we can count on take care of us.
I haven't always been that friend.
When a close friend of mine got married I did everything I could to miss the wedding. But, no matter how hard I dug my heels she yanked even harder. So, I went to the wedding even though I didn't think she was marrying the right guy. I didn't have the courage to tell her that. Not before the marriage, a few years after the marriage I finally told her how I felt about her husband.
She was rightfully pissed. If I recall correctly she slammed the phone in my ear. I don't blame her. I didn't speak to her for two years after that and you know what happened?
Out of the blue she called me and said, "I can understand why you didn't want me to marry XX. Whenever you and I talked I was always telling you about the fights we had or whatever shitty thing XX had done. I never told you any of the good things. I completely understand why you didn't like him.'
That is friendship. Being able to get pissed, cool down, re-evaluate, hold out your had again and say, "I understand."
The same goes for a another friend who once accused me of sharing an embarrassing secret. I didn't do it, and I knew who had. When I told said friend the identity of the blabbermouth she vehemently responded,
"She wouldn't do that . . SHE'S my best friend."
It felt as if I'd been slapped. I stood up and walked her to the front door. I said, "I'm sorry that you feel that way." I opened the door, and I didn't see her for five years.
Then one day, four years later, out of the blue, she showed up at my front door. She said, "This won't take long. Remember when I accused you of telling WW about WW?"
Me, "Yes, I think that was the last time we talked."
Her, "Well, I'm hear to tell you I'm sorry. I recently found out it was who you said it was."
I was shocked. I was 18 when T showed up at my door to apologize . It was the first time in my life that a peer had said to me, "What I did was shitty and wrong and I'm very sorry."
She taught me a lot in that one moment.
Our friendship was beyond the point of no return, but I've always respected T for having the stones to own up to that when the average teen would probably have kept such a thing to herself.
I've been thinking about these two events recently because there is just one thing I've never really gotten over. If you've read the early entries of this blog you know my ex-husband is gay. I didn't know when I married him. In fact, I didn't know until we'd been married for five years.
What I also didn't know was that a friend of mine knew years befoe I did. She and I had met in my dorm room when I was a freshman. We used to go out, drink and fall asleep in each other's bed. I thought we were close. Near the end of my freshman year she came out to me. She made such a big deal about it that when she finally said, "I'm a lesbian" I was relieved. She was so tense I thought she was about to tell me she was in the witness protection plan.
My response to her coming out was, "Oh, okay." It was fairly understated, and I wasn't scandalized or clutching my pearls. I really didn't care. Jen was still the same Jen she'd been five minutes prior to coming out.
About six months after this admission I start hanging out with J. We'd all go out in groups, and I'd occasionally find Jen and J huddled together in the corner of the bar. In hindsight I can admit they always looked busted. I never knew what they were talking about, but it seemed pretty intense. I never stuck my nose in it. I just figured they were friends, too.
I distinctly remember a moment when Jen turned to me and asked, "What do you think about a woman in a committed heterosexual relationship sleeping with other women."
Me, "Well, does the husband know?"
Jen, "I don't think so."
Me, "If the husband doesn't know then it's cheating. I don't care if she's sleeping with another man or another woman. That's cheating."
Jen, "Well, what if all of the people involved know?"
Me, "Well that's between them I guess."
Pause . . .
Me, "Jen, you don't want to sleep with me do you?"
Her, laughing . . . relieved, "NO . . . I was just posing a question."
We were Women's and Gender Studies girls so these kinds of conversations weren't all that bizarre for me. After J and I split up Jen called me and my heart hit he floor. I said to her,
"Oh Jen, honey, I can't be friends with you."
Her, "What?"
Me, "You knew, you knew what Jason was up to all that time. You should have told me. I wouldn't have married him. I wouldn't have gotten sick."
Her, "Oh Melissa . . . "
Me, "Oh don't worry, it's nothing that will kill me . . . "
Yeah, I'm still pissed because on top of having had to deal with my husband's betrayal I also had to deal with my friend's betrayal.
I've tried to justify her behavior. Is there a gay code that I don't know? Do you foresake your straight friend, and protect your closeted friend because you understand the pain of living a closeted life?
I really don't know.
I can tell you that if I was certain my brother's partner was playing the field I would call Carlos up and say, "Carlos child, you in trouble!" He'd probably be pissed at me, and he might not even believe me, but you can bet your ass I'd tell him what's going on. I love my brother and I want what is best for him. Or, if I knew my friend M's fiance was creeping around I'd let her know. That's what you do when you care for someone. You do your best to protect them from getting hurt.
So I guess it was that simple: Jennifer was never really my friend.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
To Breed or Not to Breed
Steve and I have decided not to have children. If you know me well, you are aware of this already.
I guess I'm addressing this here because in previous entries I've said that I might want to have children someday. I think I only said those things because it was the right thing to say.
Or, maybe I'm just a flip-flopper.
The truth is I have never wanted children. When I was a child I knew girls who would pretend their baby dolls were realy babies. They would change them, feed them, put them in a toy stroller and push it along the sidewalk. I never did that.
I clearly remember that at one point I set up a daycare in my bedroom closet. I'd dress my dolls, carry them around, and then I'd drop them off at daycare saying, "Okay, it's time to go to daycare." I'd leave them there for days at a time.
I could understand if this behavior had been modeled for me at home, but my mom was an at-home mother, and my brother and I never went to daycare. I've just never been the mothering kind.
Last fall I told my mom that I didn't want children, and she was not happy. I said that I was sorry I wouldn't be providing her with grandchildre, but that Steve and I are happy and don't want our lives to change.
She said to me, "Children won't change your life."
I smirked and said, "Mom, come on . . ."
She started laughing and said, "Okay, yeah, you're right . . . "
My not wanting children always gets misinterpreted as me not liking children. That's not true. I love the smell of a clean baby's head, and the way smile at you like you're the only person in the world. I get the appeal, I just don't want a child in my life. Neither does Steve.
I've asked him because sometimes I worry that he just doesn't want to rock the boat. But, he said, "No, I really like being selfish. I couldn't buy the antique tools I've bought or the scooter. I'd have to save all that money for diapers and formula. Not to mention saving for college."
Thank God.
I guess I'm addressing this here because in previous entries I've said that I might want to have children someday. I think I only said those things because it was the right thing to say.
Or, maybe I'm just a flip-flopper.
The truth is I have never wanted children. When I was a child I knew girls who would pretend their baby dolls were realy babies. They would change them, feed them, put them in a toy stroller and push it along the sidewalk. I never did that.
I clearly remember that at one point I set up a daycare in my bedroom closet. I'd dress my dolls, carry them around, and then I'd drop them off at daycare saying, "Okay, it's time to go to daycare." I'd leave them there for days at a time.
I could understand if this behavior had been modeled for me at home, but my mom was an at-home mother, and my brother and I never went to daycare. I've just never been the mothering kind.
Last fall I told my mom that I didn't want children, and she was not happy. I said that I was sorry I wouldn't be providing her with grandchildre, but that Steve and I are happy and don't want our lives to change.
She said to me, "Children won't change your life."
I smirked and said, "Mom, come on . . ."
She started laughing and said, "Okay, yeah, you're right . . . "
My not wanting children always gets misinterpreted as me not liking children. That's not true. I love the smell of a clean baby's head, and the way smile at you like you're the only person in the world. I get the appeal, I just don't want a child in my life. Neither does Steve.
I've asked him because sometimes I worry that he just doesn't want to rock the boat. But, he said, "No, I really like being selfish. I couldn't buy the antique tools I've bought or the scooter. I'd have to save all that money for diapers and formula. Not to mention saving for college."
Thank God.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Police Blotter - Sunday, January 18, 2009
Two dog chains, a tree pruner manual, a lawnmower and a weedeater were stolen from a home in the 3100 block of Wxxxxxxxxx Road at 1p.m., Sunday.
I think what amuses me the most is the tree pruner manual.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Police Blotter
I don't always read the Police Blotter, but I think it's good to stay up to date on the goings on in your town. Plus, you want to know what criminals are stealing these days:
A pair of earrings and a bottle of lotion were reported stolen from 6243 Woodmere Blvd., Sunday afternoon.
Someone stole 17 bags of sugar from a service station in the 900 block of W. South Blvd., at 12:38 a.m. Sunday
I get the earrings, but a bottle of lotion and 17 BAGS OF SUGAR.
What?
A pair of earrings and a bottle of lotion were reported stolen from 6243 Woodmere Blvd., Sunday afternoon.
Someone stole 17 bags of sugar from a service station in the 900 block of W. South Blvd., at 12:38 a.m. Sunday
I get the earrings, but a bottle of lotion and 17 BAGS OF SUGAR.
What?
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Holiday Cheer
The last time I was with my brother he turned to me and said, "I have no idea how to deal with in-laws. What are the rules?"
I replied, "The first rule of in-laws is you don't talk about the in-laws."
Yes, it's an old joke but it's true.
One has to be careful when it comes to in-laws. I think as a general rule you shouldn't initiate any discussion about your in-laws unless your partner introduces the conversation. Even then you have to tread carefully.
You don't just hop in the car after a family dinner and say, "Man, you're sister's kind of a bitch isn't she?"
You save that for your rage diary.
No. You hop in the car and say, "Dinner was really good wasn't it?"
If say, your partner turns to you and says, "It was good. Hey, did you notice anything about _______?"
You ask, "Like what?"
Then he's free to elaborate and you can comment, but only on the issues he brings up.
Don't try to add in your own colorful observations.
Apply these rules to any in-law: mothers, cousins, brothers, sisters . . .
However, if your partner's sibling wields a knife at you, or your mother-in-law flat out accuses you of being a snob then have your partner hold you back and let you go when they least expect it.
I replied, "The first rule of in-laws is you don't talk about the in-laws."
Yes, it's an old joke but it's true.
One has to be careful when it comes to in-laws. I think as a general rule you shouldn't initiate any discussion about your in-laws unless your partner introduces the conversation. Even then you have to tread carefully.
You don't just hop in the car after a family dinner and say, "Man, you're sister's kind of a bitch isn't she?"
You save that for your rage diary.
No. You hop in the car and say, "Dinner was really good wasn't it?"
If say, your partner turns to you and says, "It was good. Hey, did you notice anything about _______?"
You ask, "Like what?"
Then he's free to elaborate and you can comment, but only on the issues he brings up.
Don't try to add in your own colorful observations.
Apply these rules to any in-law: mothers, cousins, brothers, sisters . . .
However, if your partner's sibling wields a knife at you, or your mother-in-law flat out accuses you of being a snob then have your partner hold you back and let you go when they least expect it.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thrift Store Find
After having spent two hours on this guy's website last night, I got inspired to do a little thrifting of my own.
I now have my own Betty Draper.
She's a 1950s Napco Head Vase and she's not perfect (one earring is missing and part of her bow is broken off), but neither is Betty.
I got also found a six-piece bar set for $1 that includes stainless swizzle sticks and a spear for digging up that last olive out of the jar. They are very plain in design, but exactly what I've been looking for to stir my Sunday morning Bloody Mary.
I now have my own Betty Draper.
She's a 1950s Napco Head Vase and she's not perfect (one earring is missing and part of her bow is broken off), but neither is Betty.
I got also found a six-piece bar set for $1 that includes stainless swizzle sticks and a spear for digging up that last olive out of the jar. They are very plain in design, but exactly what I've been looking for to stir my Sunday morning Bloody Mary.
Thank You
Big thanks to everyone who donated to the Montgomery Humane Society Walk-n-Wag! You helped me raise $160 online and in these tough economic times that really means a lot. My co-workers were also generous as well as some friends and neighbors, and I raised a grand total of $280!
There were booths filled with pet products and there were some large dogs.
There were also some small dogs.
Some dogs wore costumes.
Dean made a new friend.
Max made a new friend, too.
We had a great time and all of the excitement wore us out.
There were booths filled with pet products and there were some large dogs.
There were also some small dogs.
Some dogs wore costumes.
Dean made a new friend.
Max made a new friend, too.
We had a great time and all of the excitement wore us out.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Please Help Support the Montgomery Humane Society
Max, Dean Martin and I are participating in this year’s Walk-n-Wag. The Walk-N-Wag is a fundraiser that benefits the Montgomery Humane Society.
What some of you may not know is that Dean Martin is a rescue dog.
Sure, Dean is living the high life now but not all dogs are that lucky.
This is why I’m asking you to support my efforts by making a pledge to the Montgomery Humane society.
I’ve even made it really easy.
Follow this link to the MHS Walk-n-Wag website.
Under Give a Donation select my name: Melissa Martinez.
The following page allows you to type in whatever amount of money your comfortable donating.
Click Continue.
The following message will appear.
Click Continue to PayPal.
Your PayPal Shopping Cart will appear to confirm your payment.
Click Proceed to Checkout.
The Pay with Credit Card Page will appear.
On the Pay with Credit Card page, provide the following information.
1. County
2. First Name
3. Last Name
4. Credit Card Number
5. Payment Type
6. Expiration Date
7. CSC: For your safety and security, PayPal requires that you enter your card's verification number. The verification number is a 3-digit number printed on the back of your card. It appears after and to the right of your card number.
8. City
9. State
10. Zip code
11. Home Telephone Number
12. Email
Click Review Order and Continue.
PayPal will provide you with a final screen that will confirm your donation.
If you have trouble completing your online donation please contact Lea Turbert with the Montgomery Humane Society at 334-409-0622.
Follow-Up:Has anyone actually donated anything? Nothing is showing up under my pledges with the Humane Society. I'm asking because if you are donating under my name: Melissa Martinez and it's not showing up then I need to contact the Humane Society.
Thanks!
What some of you may not know is that Dean Martin is a rescue dog.
Sure, Dean is living the high life now but not all dogs are that lucky.
This is why I’m asking you to support my efforts by making a pledge to the Montgomery Humane society.
I’ve even made it really easy.
Follow this link to the MHS Walk-n-Wag website.
Under Give a Donation select my name: Melissa Martinez.
The following page allows you to type in whatever amount of money your comfortable donating.
Click Continue.
The following message will appear.
Click Continue to PayPal.
Your PayPal Shopping Cart will appear to confirm your payment.
Click Proceed to Checkout.
The Pay with Credit Card Page will appear.
On the Pay with Credit Card page, provide the following information.
1. County
2. First Name
3. Last Name
4. Credit Card Number
5. Payment Type
6. Expiration Date
7. CSC: For your safety and security, PayPal requires that you enter your card's verification number. The verification number is a 3-digit number printed on the back of your card. It appears after and to the right of your card number.
8. City
9. State
10. Zip code
11. Home Telephone Number
12. Email
Click Review Order and Continue.
PayPal will provide you with a final screen that will confirm your donation.
If you have trouble completing your online donation please contact Lea Turbert with the Montgomery Humane Society at 334-409-0622.
Follow-Up:Has anyone actually donated anything? Nothing is showing up under my pledges with the Humane Society. I'm asking because if you are donating under my name: Melissa Martinez and it's not showing up then I need to contact the Humane Society.
Thanks!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Conversation Between Siblings
Scene: On the phone with my brother shortly after watching an episode of the L-Word.
Note: We watch a lot of the same shows and then caucus afterwards.
Carlos: I could never be a lesbian.
Melissa: Oh I know, me neither. Women are crazy!
Carlos: It's not just that . . . it's so much work.
Melissa: Hee, you're totally a lazy bottom.
Carlos: Well, so are you.
Melissa: True, plus I have this whole carpal tunnel thing . . .
Carlos: Pfft, whatever.
Melissa: Well, yeah. Plus, you know, eating pussy . . .
Carlos: OH - don't EVEN go there.
Melissa: I know, right.
Note: We watch a lot of the same shows and then caucus afterwards.
Carlos: I could never be a lesbian.
Melissa: Oh I know, me neither. Women are crazy!
Carlos: It's not just that . . . it's so much work.
Melissa: Hee, you're totally a lazy bottom.
Carlos: Well, so are you.
Melissa: True, plus I have this whole carpal tunnel thing . . .
Carlos: Pfft, whatever.
Melissa: Well, yeah. Plus, you know, eating pussy . . .
Carlos: OH - don't EVEN go there.
Melissa: I know, right.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Philadelphia
It's amazing to me how much the movie Philadelphia still affects me. Mostly it's Tom Hanks' portrayal of the main character, Andy and Jonathan Demme's decisions as a director.
My favorite scene is the one right after Denzel Washington's character turns down the opportunity to represent Andy. Jonathan Demme slowly zooms in on Andy's face and Hanks goes through a bunch of different emotions in about five seconds. There's Andy standing in a doorway on a cold Philadelphia day and he's just been turned down by the 10th lawyer he's visited.
He's cold, frustrated, sad, alone, crestfallen, broken . . . and it's all there in Hanks' face. No tears, no teeth gnashing . . . and thankfully, no wailing at the heavens with open arms. I applaud Hanks and Demme for for approaching that scene and the character with dignity.
There is one think I really don't like and it's the way Washington's homophobia is handled. I get that we have to see his transformation from scared homophobe to understanding advocate, but do we have to keep hearing how much he hates gay men, how they make him sick and that what they "do" makes him sick.
There's a reason Atticus Finch never says, "Look, I don't like niggers either but the fact of the matter is a law's been broken here."
It's unnecessary.
I've never self-identified as a homophobe. From the start of the movie I rooted for Andy, so this movie breaks my heart in a million different pieces for a million different reasons.
The main reason though?
I remember this:
Every time I see this:
My favorite scene is the one right after Denzel Washington's character turns down the opportunity to represent Andy. Jonathan Demme slowly zooms in on Andy's face and Hanks goes through a bunch of different emotions in about five seconds. There's Andy standing in a doorway on a cold Philadelphia day and he's just been turned down by the 10th lawyer he's visited.
He's cold, frustrated, sad, alone, crestfallen, broken . . . and it's all there in Hanks' face. No tears, no teeth gnashing . . . and thankfully, no wailing at the heavens with open arms. I applaud Hanks and Demme for for approaching that scene and the character with dignity.
There is one think I really don't like and it's the way Washington's homophobia is handled. I get that we have to see his transformation from scared homophobe to understanding advocate, but do we have to keep hearing how much he hates gay men, how they make him sick and that what they "do" makes him sick.
There's a reason Atticus Finch never says, "Look, I don't like niggers either but the fact of the matter is a law's been broken here."
It's unnecessary.
I've never self-identified as a homophobe. From the start of the movie I rooted for Andy, so this movie breaks my heart in a million different pieces for a million different reasons.
The main reason though?
I remember this:
Every time I see this:
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Moment from a Marriage
Scene: Steve and I are standing in the living room having just rolled up the area rug that has been in there for six months.
Me: Baby, why does the floor look so dark right here?
Steve: Where ...
Me (Pointing with my right foot): Here.
Steve: Where ...
Me (Sighing): Well, here . . . (Tracing the area THAT IS CLEARLY VISIBLE with my foot).
Steve, now annoyed: Well, where ...
Me, now visibly annoyed: Seriously, do you not see this?
Steve, smirking: W.E.A.R.
Me, slackjawed: Oh.
Me: Baby, why does the floor look so dark right here?
Steve: Where ...
Me (Pointing with my right foot): Here.
Steve: Where ...
Me (Sighing): Well, here . . . (Tracing the area THAT IS CLEARLY VISIBLE with my foot).
Steve, now annoyed: Well, where ...
Me, now visibly annoyed: Seriously, do you not see this?
Steve, smirking: W.E.A.R.
Me, slackjawed: Oh.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Say A Little Prayer
On Friday, August 29th Steve and I celebrated our three-year anniversary of homeownership.
My parents, however, remember August 29, 2005 as the day Katrina hit. This year all any of us can do is shake our heads as we watch computer modules showing Hurricane Gustav and his New Orleans or Bust sign.
My family will evacuate on Sunday, tomorrow. My brother is heading to Atlanta to be with his partner and his family. My parents and in-laws are heading to Montgomery. I know that my loved ones will be out of the path of Gustav, but I'm still worried about their stuff.
My in-laws weathered Katrina with hardly a scratch. The water stopped one inch before their doorways. My parents however got two feet of water. I know it's just stuff, but my mom just finished her house thanks to Katrina.
She was finally feeling like she lived in a home and not a construction site. I hope that they are spared the worst of it. I know that my mom is strong, but I'd hate to see her go through living in a trailer again. She put a happy face on things, but I know she felt out of sorts.
Since Katrina they've jacked the house up a good four feet so we're all hoping flood waters won't be a problem, but you just never know. They also got fancy new hurricane grade windows so I guess we'll get to see how well those work. My mom said she scoped out the trees around her house and they were all leaning "away" so I've got my fingers crossed.
If you're religious, say a little prayer for them. If you're not religious then send good vibes or whatever.
My parents, however, remember August 29, 2005 as the day Katrina hit. This year all any of us can do is shake our heads as we watch computer modules showing Hurricane Gustav and his New Orleans or Bust sign.
My family will evacuate on Sunday, tomorrow. My brother is heading to Atlanta to be with his partner and his family. My parents and in-laws are heading to Montgomery. I know that my loved ones will be out of the path of Gustav, but I'm still worried about their stuff.
My in-laws weathered Katrina with hardly a scratch. The water stopped one inch before their doorways. My parents however got two feet of water. I know it's just stuff, but my mom just finished her house thanks to Katrina.
She was finally feeling like she lived in a home and not a construction site. I hope that they are spared the worst of it. I know that my mom is strong, but I'd hate to see her go through living in a trailer again. She put a happy face on things, but I know she felt out of sorts.
Since Katrina they've jacked the house up a good four feet so we're all hoping flood waters won't be a problem, but you just never know. They also got fancy new hurricane grade windows so I guess we'll get to see how well those work. My mom said she scoped out the trees around her house and they were all leaning "away" so I've got my fingers crossed.
If you're religious, say a little prayer for them. If you're not religious then send good vibes or whatever.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Sexual Fluidity
Just assume that anytime I refer to a conversation between my brother and I that it was recent and on the phone. We talk a lot.
Anyway, we got on the subject of sexual preference. We were discussing "queer by beer" and girls kissing girls for attention. I think we finally worked our way to the more conventional gay and bi labels.
See, we do talk about more than just Tyra, The View and Swingtown.
Very casually he mentioned that he thought today those definitions were prehaps too confining and that the younger generation (high school and college students I presume) see sexuality as more fluid.
In other words: Bi Now, Gay Later . . . Maybe not.
I get what he's saying, but there's a part of me that worries about this new label because I fear it gives credence to those who believe being gay is indeed a choice.
It would be easier to argue that if sexuality is indeed fluid then you have the power to change the tide.
Let me just add that I don't think one chooses to be straight, gay or bi.
Am I wrong?
Anyway, we got on the subject of sexual preference. We were discussing "queer by beer" and girls kissing girls for attention. I think we finally worked our way to the more conventional gay and bi labels.
See, we do talk about more than just Tyra, The View and Swingtown.
Very casually he mentioned that he thought today those definitions were prehaps too confining and that the younger generation (high school and college students I presume) see sexuality as more fluid.
In other words: Bi Now, Gay Later . . . Maybe not.
I get what he's saying, but there's a part of me that worries about this new label because I fear it gives credence to those who believe being gay is indeed a choice.
It would be easier to argue that if sexuality is indeed fluid then you have the power to change the tide.
Let me just add that I don't think one chooses to be straight, gay or bi.
Am I wrong?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
I Am So Ashamed
When I was a kid I had a lot of celebrity crushes. The other day I was flipping channels and I came across this:
When I was 11 I thought this movie was awesome! The other day I could only watch 5 minutes of it because it was so awful, but damn I loved me some Jason Gedrick. (Poor Lou Gossett Jr. To this day when I see him in a movie I internally shout "CHAPPY!")
I'll admit I still nurse a crush on Jason Gedrick. Does anyone even remember Windfall?
It was a crappy show and the fact that Luke Perry was cast in it should have been my warning, but the Gedrick magic still has its influence.
I was so excited when he turned up on Desperate Housewives.
I realize I probably still sound like an 11-year-old girl, but that really doesn't surprise me. My favorite shows? Degrassi: The Next Generation, Gossip Girl . . . oh and you can bet your ass I'll be watching the new incarnation of 90210. HELLO . . . Darcy from D:TNG is playing the Brenda-like character. Those are some big bangs to fill.
When I was 11 I thought this movie was awesome! The other day I could only watch 5 minutes of it because it was so awful, but damn I loved me some Jason Gedrick. (Poor Lou Gossett Jr. To this day when I see him in a movie I internally shout "CHAPPY!")
I'll admit I still nurse a crush on Jason Gedrick. Does anyone even remember Windfall?
It was a crappy show and the fact that Luke Perry was cast in it should have been my warning, but the Gedrick magic still has its influence.
I was so excited when he turned up on Desperate Housewives.
I realize I probably still sound like an 11-year-old girl, but that really doesn't surprise me. My favorite shows? Degrassi: The Next Generation, Gossip Girl . . . oh and you can bet your ass I'll be watching the new incarnation of 90210. HELLO . . . Darcy from D:TNG is playing the Brenda-like character. Those are some big bangs to fill.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Lazy Blogger
The other night my brother gave me a hard time for not updating my blog.
He is completely right, but a lot of times I just don't have much to say. Right now I'm sitting in my living room watching Evening.
One quick side note: what must it be like to be Claire Danes? To have casting directors sit back and say, "We need a woman beautiful enough to make all the men in this movie thow out all reason. We need Claire Danes."
I've got a really gross cold right now so a Sunday afternoon with a chick flick on, even a mediocre one, seems perfect.
I hate summer colds. In the winter you can bundle up and drink hot tea and steaming soup, but in the summer a cold is just a nuisance. It's hot out, your nose is runny and you're sweating and it's just blegh!
In other news, we are currently enjoying all our hard work right now and harvesting tomatoes, cucumbers and herbs practically every day. I kid with my brother and jokingly refer to our garden as Turkey Hill.
I put on my Martha Stewart voice as I go on about the delicious pesto I whipped up from our organically grown basil. It is organically grown basil, but I'm really not that unbearable about it. One of the guys I work with calls us hippies because Steve has his own compost pile and I don't use pesticides on the red ants in our yard, but rather chase them off with the free coffee grounds I get from Starbucks.
Okay, maybe I am getting a little annoying.
He is completely right, but a lot of times I just don't have much to say. Right now I'm sitting in my living room watching Evening.
One quick side note: what must it be like to be Claire Danes? To have casting directors sit back and say, "We need a woman beautiful enough to make all the men in this movie thow out all reason. We need Claire Danes."
I've got a really gross cold right now so a Sunday afternoon with a chick flick on, even a mediocre one, seems perfect.
I hate summer colds. In the winter you can bundle up and drink hot tea and steaming soup, but in the summer a cold is just a nuisance. It's hot out, your nose is runny and you're sweating and it's just blegh!
In other news, we are currently enjoying all our hard work right now and harvesting tomatoes, cucumbers and herbs practically every day. I kid with my brother and jokingly refer to our garden as Turkey Hill.
I put on my Martha Stewart voice as I go on about the delicious pesto I whipped up from our organically grown basil. It is organically grown basil, but I'm really not that unbearable about it. One of the guys I work with calls us hippies because Steve has his own compost pile and I don't use pesticides on the red ants in our yard, but rather chase them off with the free coffee grounds I get from Starbucks.
Okay, maybe I am getting a little annoying.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Memorial Day Weekend
This weekend Steve and I are heading to Gulf Shores and while I love the beach I am both looking forward to and dreading this weekend.
The thing is: I'm fat.
My brother is probably reading this nodding his head agreeing with me right now.
Which, you know, whatever . . . I don't blame him.
He's smart enough though not to pull me aside and say,
"Girl, what is up? You look like you ATE Tyra?"
My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy.
She keeps making these little comments about my recent weight gain and really it does nothing to motivate me to lose weight.
I KNOW I'M FAT, MOM . . . DEAL.
I don't know what she thinks, but I can't stand the look of disappointment in her eyes when she looks at me.
The other day we were on the phone and as we were hanging up she said,
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Donteattoomuch."
She sort of threw in that last comment like it was supposed to be some sort of subliminal message. I guess she thinks its helpful, but it really hurts.
During another phone call she totally non sequiturs, "Do you know that every day for breakfast I have plain corn flakes with some fresh fruit? It's very light."
It was so weird. Like I was reading one of those 1950's diet books on how to obtain a trim girlish figure. Next thing you know she'll be advising me to drink a G&T before dinner in order to curb my appetite.
Her all time low was when she tried to get away with calling me "gordita"! Which, HELLO, translates to "Little Fatty."
Not cute.
That one I forcefully objected to and she tried to pass it off at as a cute nickname. I said, "No, absolutely not. You will never call me that again." The diminutive use of a word does not immediately make it cute.
Yesterday I went back to the gym for the first time in ages. This is going to be a regular thing in my life. I can't keep ignoring my expanding waistline. Ive started packing healthy snacks for work and I'm committed to working out three days a week and avoiding the snack machine and cafeteria at work.
I didn't get this size overnight and conversely I'm not going to drop the weight overnight.
I just wish my mom understood that.
Sometimes I wonder if my mom is just a product of her generation and she equates her looks with her self-worth. Maybe if I'm not a perfect size 6 my husband will leave me.
My ex-husband once said that my weight gain made it easier for him to cheat. Ya'll I was fucking small when I was with him. I don't think I ever told my mom that he said that, but it did mess me up for a long time.
I realized recently that Steve doesn't feel that way. Of course he doesn't.
Not every man is a narcissistic sociopath.
Anyway, yes mom I know I'm fat but don't despair. I'm more than the sum of pounds on the scale.
The thing is: I'm fat.
My brother is probably reading this nodding his head agreeing with me right now.
Which, you know, whatever . . . I don't blame him.
He's smart enough though not to pull me aside and say,
"Girl, what is up? You look like you ATE Tyra?"
My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy.
She keeps making these little comments about my recent weight gain and really it does nothing to motivate me to lose weight.
I KNOW I'M FAT, MOM . . . DEAL.
I don't know what she thinks, but I can't stand the look of disappointment in her eyes when she looks at me.
The other day we were on the phone and as we were hanging up she said,
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Donteattoomuch."
She sort of threw in that last comment like it was supposed to be some sort of subliminal message. I guess she thinks its helpful, but it really hurts.
During another phone call she totally non sequiturs, "Do you know that every day for breakfast I have plain corn flakes with some fresh fruit? It's very light."
It was so weird. Like I was reading one of those 1950's diet books on how to obtain a trim girlish figure. Next thing you know she'll be advising me to drink a G&T before dinner in order to curb my appetite.
Her all time low was when she tried to get away with calling me "gordita"! Which, HELLO, translates to "Little Fatty."
Not cute.
That one I forcefully objected to and she tried to pass it off at as a cute nickname. I said, "No, absolutely not. You will never call me that again." The diminutive use of a word does not immediately make it cute.
Yesterday I went back to the gym for the first time in ages. This is going to be a regular thing in my life. I can't keep ignoring my expanding waistline. Ive started packing healthy snacks for work and I'm committed to working out three days a week and avoiding the snack machine and cafeteria at work.
I didn't get this size overnight and conversely I'm not going to drop the weight overnight.
I just wish my mom understood that.
Sometimes I wonder if my mom is just a product of her generation and she equates her looks with her self-worth. Maybe if I'm not a perfect size 6 my husband will leave me.
My ex-husband once said that my weight gain made it easier for him to cheat. Ya'll I was fucking small when I was with him. I don't think I ever told my mom that he said that, but it did mess me up for a long time.
I realized recently that Steve doesn't feel that way. Of course he doesn't.
Not every man is a narcissistic sociopath.
Anyway, yes mom I know I'm fat but don't despair. I'm more than the sum of pounds on the scale.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Working from Home
Due to the ridiculous cost of gas and my employer's inability to up my pay, my department is being allowed to work one day a week from home.
Today is my day.
I do a few hours of work and take a ten minute break to run a load of laundry, unload the dishes or just cuddle with the dog. I get to spend my lunch hour at my favorite place: my front porch. This morning while people were gnashing their teeth over the morning commute I decided to take Dean on a 30 minute walk.
Sure, I'd like to make more money, but this is definitely a nice perk.
Today is my day.
I do a few hours of work and take a ten minute break to run a load of laundry, unload the dishes or just cuddle with the dog. I get to spend my lunch hour at my favorite place: my front porch. This morning while people were gnashing their teeth over the morning commute I decided to take Dean on a 30 minute walk.
Sure, I'd like to make more money, but this is definitely a nice perk.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
My Twin
Men Beware: This entry deals with my female parts and the things that can go wrong with them.
On Monday I had surgery and it was no fun.
Well, riding the morphine dragon was a little fun, but overall getting your belly button cut open is just not a good time. There are three small incisions including the one on my belly button, but damn does it hurt!
I was having some pelvic pain on my right side a few months ago. My doctor recommended that I go ahead and come in for am ultrasound.
I've never had a child, but I've seen plenty of ultrasounds on ER so I knew what to expect. If you've never had a pelvic ultrasound, know that you have to have a full bladder in order for them to get a good picture. I'm adding that in because ER never told me that and neither did my doctor. Consequently, my visit was made longer by the fact that I had to fill my bladder first. I finally get to the point where I'm ready to burst and the technician agrees with me that I'm ready.
There is no talking during an ultrasound. The technician just takes pictures while you lay there wondering why you're in pain. The tech finally speaks to me and says, "Okay, now I need you to go in the bathroom, empty your bladder and remove your clothes below the waist."
Me, "Uhm . . okay."
I go in the bathroom, do as I'm told and when I come out the technician says to me, "Okay, I need you to lay on the bed again."
I lay on the bed and I realize she's taken out a "wand" and is covering it with a condom and lubing it up with KY.
I didn't even know her name.
It turns out when they spot something on the ultrasound they have to then go in with what I've affectionately called the "dildo cam." That ultrasound detected a fibroid growing on the outside of my uterus . . . on the left side of my pelvis. Weird because I came in for pain on the right side.
My doctor and I decided to take the wait and see approach so I returned in six months and it had doubled in size. When they took the fibroid out it was the same size as my uterus: about the size of a large chicken egg.
My brother has been keeping my spirits up by calling this thing "my twin." I know that sounds gross, but it's actually a reference to My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He kept teasing me that if it was a dermoid cyst with teeth and hair he wanted me to bring it home in a jar so that he could keep it. My cyst's lore eventually grew to include painted finger nails.
My cyst did not have any of those things, but weirdly when I told my cousin D about it post-surgery he asked me, "They let you keep it?" My brother and D don't chat it up on a regular basis so I know they come up with this independently of each other. My family is crazy.
I was lucky with this whole fibroid thing. It was attached by a stalk and that meant they could take it out by making three small incisions. They had to cut the fibroid up in small pieces to take it out (thus rendering impossible for me to give it to my brother as one large mass in a mason jar), but they got all of it.
The ultrasounds I had couldn't detect what was causing my original complaint: pain on the lower right side.
The laparoscopy done on Monday showed that I've got endometriosis on my bladder as well as across both of my fallopian tubes. I've never tried to get pregnant, but my doctor is fairly sure that the endometriosis on my fallopian tubes would have made that pretty difficult.
The fact that it's on my bladder was interesting though because I kept having pain while I urinated (at times excruciating pain) and my former GP kept testing me for UTIs that came up negative. He eventually came to the conclusion that this pain was in my head and that maybe if I lost a little weight and exercised I would feel better. I was angry about it then, but now I'm furious. I hate that he made me feel crazy and that maybe I was imagining this pain.
I no longer go to that doctor.
I'm still a little freaked out that I had something like that growing inside of me, but I'm, glad it's out and I'm glad I have some answers.
My doctor is optimistic that it's benign, but we'll know for sure next week.
I'm not scared because at this point I'm leaving it in God's hands.
What else can I do?
On Monday I had surgery and it was no fun.
Well, riding the morphine dragon was a little fun, but overall getting your belly button cut open is just not a good time. There are three small incisions including the one on my belly button, but damn does it hurt!
I was having some pelvic pain on my right side a few months ago. My doctor recommended that I go ahead and come in for am ultrasound.
I've never had a child, but I've seen plenty of ultrasounds on ER so I knew what to expect. If you've never had a pelvic ultrasound, know that you have to have a full bladder in order for them to get a good picture. I'm adding that in because ER never told me that and neither did my doctor. Consequently, my visit was made longer by the fact that I had to fill my bladder first. I finally get to the point where I'm ready to burst and the technician agrees with me that I'm ready.
There is no talking during an ultrasound. The technician just takes pictures while you lay there wondering why you're in pain. The tech finally speaks to me and says, "Okay, now I need you to go in the bathroom, empty your bladder and remove your clothes below the waist."
Me, "Uhm . . okay."
I go in the bathroom, do as I'm told and when I come out the technician says to me, "Okay, I need you to lay on the bed again."
I lay on the bed and I realize she's taken out a "wand" and is covering it with a condom and lubing it up with KY.
I didn't even know her name.
It turns out when they spot something on the ultrasound they have to then go in with what I've affectionately called the "dildo cam." That ultrasound detected a fibroid growing on the outside of my uterus . . . on the left side of my pelvis. Weird because I came in for pain on the right side.
My doctor and I decided to take the wait and see approach so I returned in six months and it had doubled in size. When they took the fibroid out it was the same size as my uterus: about the size of a large chicken egg.
My brother has been keeping my spirits up by calling this thing "my twin." I know that sounds gross, but it's actually a reference to My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He kept teasing me that if it was a dermoid cyst with teeth and hair he wanted me to bring it home in a jar so that he could keep it. My cyst's lore eventually grew to include painted finger nails.
My cyst did not have any of those things, but weirdly when I told my cousin D about it post-surgery he asked me, "They let you keep it?" My brother and D don't chat it up on a regular basis so I know they come up with this independently of each other. My family is crazy.
I was lucky with this whole fibroid thing. It was attached by a stalk and that meant they could take it out by making three small incisions. They had to cut the fibroid up in small pieces to take it out (thus rendering impossible for me to give it to my brother as one large mass in a mason jar), but they got all of it.
The ultrasounds I had couldn't detect what was causing my original complaint: pain on the lower right side.
The laparoscopy done on Monday showed that I've got endometriosis on my bladder as well as across both of my fallopian tubes. I've never tried to get pregnant, but my doctor is fairly sure that the endometriosis on my fallopian tubes would have made that pretty difficult.
The fact that it's on my bladder was interesting though because I kept having pain while I urinated (at times excruciating pain) and my former GP kept testing me for UTIs that came up negative. He eventually came to the conclusion that this pain was in my head and that maybe if I lost a little weight and exercised I would feel better. I was angry about it then, but now I'm furious. I hate that he made me feel crazy and that maybe I was imagining this pain.
I no longer go to that doctor.
I'm still a little freaked out that I had something like that growing inside of me, but I'm, glad it's out and I'm glad I have some answers.
My doctor is optimistic that it's benign, but we'll know for sure next week.
I'm not scared because at this point I'm leaving it in God's hands.
What else can I do?
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Who Saw Britney at the VMAs?
Seriously.
Remember when Paula Abdul was an "it" girl? She had the cute Laker girl with huge hits: Straight Up, Forever Your Girl and she looked awesome slinking around in the Cold Hearted video?
Then she followed that up with Blowing Kisses in the Wind, The Promise of a New Day and Rush Rush and while we still loved Paula, because she wasn't the crazy Paula that she is now, you know you were thinking, "Damn Paula . . . you gotta lay off of that home cooking before you split a seam!"
Honey, that's how I felt watching Britney "sing" her new song Gimme. I'm not saying she looked fat because you're average size 12 American woman is thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't mind looking like that," when Britney comes traipsing across the stage, but Britney isn't normal.
She's a celebrity and I want my celebrities looking fabulous, not running around with a jiggly ass and a flabby stomach.
Hell, I'd be running around my house naked if I wanted to see that.
Gimme? Nuh, uh girl . . . you've got to push away from the table.
Tim Gunn - Call Britney STAT!
Tina Knowles - Call Britney! You may have designed some tacky ass shit for Beyonce, but you know how to sexily dress a woman with curves.
J-Lo - Call Britney! You know how to look hot and work the curves and you both "sing."
Remember when Paula Abdul was an "it" girl? She had the cute Laker girl with huge hits: Straight Up, Forever Your Girl and she looked awesome slinking around in the Cold Hearted video?
Then she followed that up with Blowing Kisses in the Wind, The Promise of a New Day and Rush Rush and while we still loved Paula, because she wasn't the crazy Paula that she is now, you know you were thinking, "Damn Paula . . . you gotta lay off of that home cooking before you split a seam!"
Honey, that's how I felt watching Britney "sing" her new song Gimme. I'm not saying she looked fat because you're average size 12 American woman is thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't mind looking like that," when Britney comes traipsing across the stage, but Britney isn't normal.
She's a celebrity and I want my celebrities looking fabulous, not running around with a jiggly ass and a flabby stomach.
Hell, I'd be running around my house naked if I wanted to see that.
Gimme? Nuh, uh girl . . . you've got to push away from the table.
Dear Britney,
You can't wear outfits that bare your midriff right now. If you do choose to bare your midriff it's not advisable for you to turn to the side and pop your pelvis. It just makes us think, "Oh no . . . someone needs to lay off the Cheetos." Slap on your Kabbalah bracelet and have Madonna put you in touch with her Pilates instructor.
P.S. You also shouldn't wear short, shorts if you've got to wear them with pantyhose. You just look like Kirstie Alley that time she was on Oprah in a two-piece.
Sincerely,
Someone Who Knows Better
Tim Gunn - Call Britney STAT!
Tina Knowles - Call Britney! You may have designed some tacky ass shit for Beyonce, but you know how to sexily dress a woman with curves.
J-Lo - Call Britney! You know how to look hot and work the curves and you both "sing."
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Sardonyx
I've always wanted to be a writer. I've never actually said that I wanted to be a fiction writer, a reporter or even a poet. I've just always known that I wanted to somehow make a living by stringing words together. Except for the 2.5 years when I was working as a training director, I've managed to do just that so I've been pretty lucky.
My first experience as a published writer was in high school.
My friend Janine and I were both on the yearbook staff. I think in my four years I took my sophmore year off because I was petty and immature, but for three years I was on the yearbook staff. I could have joined the newspaper staff, but for whatever reason I thought it was lame.
I think that I was more attracted to the yearbook because for me it had more of a sense of permanence than our school newspaper.
Think about it: the yearbooks were over 200 pages long with nice hardcover bindings. Our newpaper was an over sized glossy that maybe topped out at 8 pages.
If I remember correctly, I didn't actually get to write until my senior year but I did get to select pictures for the yearbook and crop them to fit. Mayn, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth because I remember hand cropping pictures with rulers and pens and scissors. Now I'd guess everything is done on a MAC.
Anyway, I think maybe it was at my 10 year reunion that Janine reminded me why we were in yearbook all along.
She said to me, "Don't you remember, we came in for a yearbook meeting and B____ and all her little friends had picked photos with them in it so the yearbook was nothing but them?"
I said, "Huh, not really."
Then Janine said, "Yeah. We looked at them and thought 'OH! UH,UH!' and took out there pictures and added pictures of us and our friends!"
My response, "Hmn, I don't remember that, but it definitely sounds like something I would do."
At which point I thing we burst into giggles because it really was the bitchy kind of retaliation that I still enjoy! We probably even asked ourselves, "Who do they think they are?"
Honestly though I don't remember when that was, but I get the feeling it may have been our junior year because I just flipped through that yearbook and our class candids are really fairly balanced between the student council girls and everyone else.
It's crazy to me how much time we spent worrying about face time in the yearbook, but I like to think Janine and I had a fair and even-handed approach.
The truth is, a lot of those girls that were trying to be on every page are still heavily involved with my alma mater.
Heavily involved: like they work there as adults kind of heavily involved.
I guess you have to have some with that sort of dedication to keep the school and the tradition going, but some part of me wonders if those four years of high school were indeed the best times of their lives.
That's just sad.
My first experience as a published writer was in high school.
My friend Janine and I were both on the yearbook staff. I think in my four years I took my sophmore year off because I was petty and immature, but for three years I was on the yearbook staff. I could have joined the newspaper staff, but for whatever reason I thought it was lame.
I think that I was more attracted to the yearbook because for me it had more of a sense of permanence than our school newspaper.
Think about it: the yearbooks were over 200 pages long with nice hardcover bindings. Our newpaper was an over sized glossy that maybe topped out at 8 pages.
If I remember correctly, I didn't actually get to write until my senior year but I did get to select pictures for the yearbook and crop them to fit. Mayn, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth because I remember hand cropping pictures with rulers and pens and scissors. Now I'd guess everything is done on a MAC.
Anyway, I think maybe it was at my 10 year reunion that Janine reminded me why we were in yearbook all along.
She said to me, "Don't you remember, we came in for a yearbook meeting and B____ and all her little friends had picked photos with them in it so the yearbook was nothing but them?"
I said, "Huh, not really."
Then Janine said, "Yeah. We looked at them and thought 'OH! UH,UH!' and took out there pictures and added pictures of us and our friends!"
My response, "Hmn, I don't remember that, but it definitely sounds like something I would do."
At which point I thing we burst into giggles because it really was the bitchy kind of retaliation that I still enjoy! We probably even asked ourselves, "Who do they think they are?"
Honestly though I don't remember when that was, but I get the feeling it may have been our junior year because I just flipped through that yearbook and our class candids are really fairly balanced between the student council girls and everyone else.
It's crazy to me how much time we spent worrying about face time in the yearbook, but I like to think Janine and I had a fair and even-handed approach.
The truth is, a lot of those girls that were trying to be on every page are still heavily involved with my alma mater.
Heavily involved: like they work there as adults kind of heavily involved.
I guess you have to have some with that sort of dedication to keep the school and the tradition going, but some part of me wonders if those four years of high school were indeed the best times of their lives.
That's just sad.
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