and the keg ain't floated yet

Only in America could THIS happen...

a couple of more things, as overtime is melting my brain here...

I have no idea where I'm going with this... I've already helped FIVE people who've decided to not only start their celebrating a bit early today, but to top off their days, call tech support for help.


So now, I'm bored. But at least I'm gettin' paid time and a half.

Here's what I've come up with on things to do in 2006:

Find an ugly dog and adopt it.

Get a pet lobster... maybe name him Sid.

Work my ass off.

Get a new hobby.

Dye my hair blue, at least for a week.

Lose 12 pounds.

Prep my youngest for kindergarten, and maybe teach him bad Italian.

Learn Hebrew.

Get out more with my friends.

Call Karl, and convince him I'm not as evil as he might think I am.

Start eating more veggies, and speaking my mind a wee bit more.

Move.

happy new year, y'all

I just wanted to say, as I sit here in a cubicle and the smell of oranges and popcorn (extra butter, the bastard) is almost overwhelming, and I try not to gag, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

May your evening not end in handcuffs (unless that's your thing), and may your New Year's Day be headache-free.

SPTAM

an open message to a stray cat

I'm still pissed at you more than anything else, but I will allow this:

On that one thing, you were right - everything else, you were wrong.

(Don't worry, I won't tell everyone that you dye your hair.)

an example of my day (yeah, i know... work stuff)

As I've stated before, I work as a phone jockey for a broadband internet provider... and sometimes - just sometimes - we have calls that just befuddle the mind.

Yesterday, I had a call that really stumped me. I mean, everything was set up correctly, yet she couldn't get access, regardless of what we did. I won't bore you with the tech aspects of the call, but I will say that it required my contacting our internal help desk for assistance. Here is the entire conversation:

[Tami] Westell 6100 modem. Modem connected in other room, using 50foot ethernet cable, connecting directly to machine. Hard reset of modem. Now after reset, ethernet/dsl lights blinking. We're still troubleshooing (and yes, I know, the cable is really long so that is most likely the issue) but prev tech told them to do this
[Tami] it's set up correctly/all lines in correct order, etc, but still getting error on machine "check LAN connection"
[Tami] which I think would have to do with the lengthy line
[Tami] os xp
[Tami] wait
[Tami] she just asked me if the phone line needed to be plugged into the modem
[Tami] i told her yes
[Tami] she's silent now


[Tami] waiting to see if plugging it in will help
[Tami] sorry
[Mountain] Sounds like the phone line needs to be put in
[Tami] yeah whoda thunk it
[Tami] I think I've got this
[Tami] thanks
[Mountain] I thought that as soon as you said the message, I just didn't have a chance to say it.

really random thoughts that are rushing through my brain right now

Sometimes, I'll sit outside on my porch and watch the planes fly overhead.

Occassionally, there's a star that's not being blocked by the smog, and I think it's nice.

Once in a while, I can see clouds that aren't tinged with brown.

Lots of times, though, these clouds change shapes to where they look like demented clowns and are coming down to get me.

Kind of like that creepy guy that works on the internal help desk who walks up to me and asks what time I'm going to lunch, then says, "Wow. Cool." and walks away without saying another word... and then keeps showing up when I'm on my breaks.

God, he's creepy.

I'd really like a Jamocha shake from Arby's now.

summer like fun, anyone?

It's December, and it's about 60 degrees outside.

Well, it was the other day... it was so pretty, The Boy and I decided to go to the park for dinner. (We have picnics... easily amused, we are.)

Can you believe that the weather is as nice as it is? I mean, we're either gonna have one hell of a freeze coming up, or I'm relocating to Alaska for the summer.

(No. That is NOT me on the right. I promise... I've lost weight.)

job security

Today, as I was on the phone with 94 year old Captain Morgan, and trying to figure out why the hell he can't connect, I was watching the guys who work on the internal help desk and couldn't help but mentally compare them to something you'd see on those old Wild Kingdom episodes. One guy, who was in my direct line of sight, kept me amused by just sitting there, drinking his 2 liter Diet Coke straight from the bottle, and continuously picking at his hands. This went on for hours. I like to send little messages to these guys throughout the day, to keep 'em on their toes... like for my Captain Morgan call, for example. They're here to help, right? (Hell, I'm here to help, too...)

"Dude. Help. I can't figure this out, it's XP2, everything checks out, no trouble in the area, everything's fine. Per the guy, the lights are fine. What is this?" We spend 20 minutes trying to figure this out... no avail. Capt. Morgan is doing everything that I'm telling him to do, he's trying - and he's a total trooper. I love this man. We do more technical stuff, and finally we're all ready to go buy plane tickets to NYC to help this little old man... he needs his internet, dammit. Finally, one of the guys ask, "Let's get back to basics. What's the modem lights doing?" I ask Capt. Morgan.

"Modem?" "Yes, modem. The little box on top of the computer that's been flashing. The one we reset a few minutes ago." "Sir?" "Yeah... ummm... you mean the big machine, right?", "No. The little box that we sent you." "Sir? Are you there?"

"Do you mean the little box that's on the floor, that's the thing I'm supposed to connect to my computer?"

lasso the moon? rope up the 'net? al gore says, "hey, i ain't done yet!"

Okay, okay... a poet, I'm not.

(But it didn't suck, admit it.)

I wanted to share with you something that I just found... it's a take on the old "It's A Wonderful Life", but by today's standards.

Fuck... I liked it.

happy christmas, y'all

Merry Christmas, y'all. I hope that my contribution to the commercialization of Christmas has helped the economy enough to lower the gas prices!

And here's the status quo on this morning's events:

Watching the kids rip open the presents this morning with more gusto than... well, I dunno - kids on Christmas morning - was fun.

The Girl got brown & pink Vans, plus a gaggle of girlie stuff. (She actually smiled and said - gasp! - thank you.) Ninja Joe got a planetareum as well as some other learning tools disguised as toys. The Boy is with his dad today, but his gifts are anxiously awaiting to be opened and destroyed by the four year old terror, otherwise known as Jake.

Sparky scored a pool stick and aromatherapy candles, and I... well, I'm not used to recieving gifts so I'll keep this to myself. I will share that it's cool, and I'll hold onto it for many, many years. Being part of a dual-religion family is fun, that's all I can say.

How was everyone else's?

hr holiday greeting?

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. We also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. And without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee. By accepting these greetings you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for herself or himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

god, i'm a mature, sexy beast sometimes...

Have you ever had one of those moments in life where you had enough medication in your system to kill a medium sized mammal, yet for some reason would not die, or at the very least, sleep? And then, to add insult to injury, you log onto your IM of choice to not only listen to music, but also catch up on events (ie: chat with buds) as well as go through the folks that you pretty much don't talk to anymore?

I sit here with a mix of meds in my system that would perhaps put my albeit distant cousin in a mild coma that may compensate for the major case of PMS that is occurring right this second.

I will say this before I go any further in my incessant diatribe here... I'm listening to Barenaked Ladies (yes, Gwen, just for you) and sipping on a Bud Light - the second night in a row.

Logging onto the IM tonight, I saw my ex, The Tick (the one that will basically suck your soul from your entire being) online and realized something: the guy is a total pussy stalker. When he and I broke up, he not only hijacked this particular blog, he made the mistake of (attempting, anyway) establishing an online relationship with my daughter. This is the same dude that I had to get a TRO against as he was not only calling me constantly and leaving scary messages, but was - and this is almost as bad, maybe more pathetic than anything else - emailing me lyrics to entire songs... nothing else, just songs.

Ummmm, yeah.

Anyway, back to the story. I IM'd him tonight (a while after said nasty breakup) to let him know that I'd been auditing my daughter's site and his IP kept coming up... and told him that he really didn't have any reason to be reading up on my teenager's life, etc. Instead of saying (even if it was in error), "It won't happen again - I'm sorry I'm a closeted pedophile and perhaps a woman trapped in a man's body... but when I go through the change, I wanna remain a lesbian" (okay, I'm stretching here - we all know he's not a lesbian), he made a pitiful attempt at defending himself and then went as far as going into detail of his IP addy, etc.

It was a sad moment, to say the least.

The part that blew my mind the most, though was the following exchange - though I don't save my IMs, this is forever embedded in my memory: "Well, I'm blocking you FOREVER".

So there!

Dear God, all I wanted to convey was a request to stop catching up on my kid... at this point, I'm left with a silent prayer of, "Gee, I hope he goes back on his Prozac."

holy shit, part 24 (i love my car)

Hilda loves me, this I know... for Toyota tells me so...

Meet Hilda. She's a 16 year old Camry (that's short for Camaro, by the way) that likes to flaunt her stuff on the road, bitch slapping late model Corollas and shocking cops into not dispensing speeding tickets on a regular basis.

I really needed to share this event with everyone... I mean, it's not every day that you get to witness your car get closer and closer to the point to where the phrase "Crossing Over" becomes a regular part of your vocabulary, and you seriously begin looking into new motors and the like.

why my cat doesn't bark and why the budweiser label does not make for good bedtime reading materials

Once again, I start a post with the mindset of, "I'm spent," and then keep going like the energizer bunny on an acid trip... it just keeps going and going, and doesn't seem to make much sense to anyone but me.

Today was one of the more trying days that I can think of in a while, and dammit, I'm thinkin' and diggin' and can't think of one thing that has sent me to the brink of actually wanting to go and purchase a Dr. Phil book... other than that time that I woke up thinking that my (now ex) boyfriend was gay, and later discovered that he was simply by the fact that he stole all of my left shoes.

But I digress. (As usual...)

Taking my daughter to the doctor today for various girl reasons, we were in the car discussing life events and Eisley. Why on earth we were talking about this horrid band I don't know, but we were. We're close, my babygirl and I. Fifteen years old and somewhat wise beyond her years, we can literally talk about anything... and today, I realized that one fact - we can talk about anything, and she respects what I have to say. From the perspective of the mother of a teenaged girl, that's sayin' a lot.

I won't go into the whole detail of the discussion, as it not only would betray her confidence in me, but it I will allow that it was extremely personal, and I'm honored that she trusted me with this information.

Afterwards, I dropped her off with her various prescriptions as well as a few other necessary "sick day supplies" (think hot cheetos and mac & cheese), and decided to call and check on my sister... it'd been a couple of weeks since we'd last spoken, and as I hadn't had a few rum & cokes in my system, it was prime time to give her a shout.

I learned from my brother in law that she was at the hospital with her dad, who had just gotten out of a diabetic coma yesterday. He was still in ICU, and would remain there for a few more days at the very least. She was taking it well, and was being strong... she was being Super Sisi, as this is part of her stoic nature.

During the time that Tumble's been in the hospital, my brothers (okay, half, but they're still kin) have taken it upon themselves to clean my stepfather's home of all his valuables... but for "safe keeping", of course. I won't go into the whole range of emotional expletive-ladden diatribe that my poor brother in law had to endure for about 20 minutes, but I'll leave it with a movie title: "Daddy's Dyin' and Who's Got The Will?".

Now, here it is, after about 6 hours of learning ALL of this information, I purge it from my system and type it into this little screen for the world to see... and before I hit "enter", I'll take yet another drag from my Marlboro and a gulp from my Bud Light (it's been awhile, my friend) and get a little madder at the menfolk in my family who worry about finances, and get a little softer for my daughter's new beau, who seems to be a nice boy.

'night.

hard at work

This is what happens to people when they fall asleep in training.



Meet Justin. He fell asleep.

God forgive me, I know not what I do sometimes.

note to self: kill computer

If I ever run into the creator of "EQ" (EverQuest for those of you unfamiliar with online gaming), I will seriously fuck him up.

I'm a gaming widow, apparently.

What makes it even worse is that it's one of those games that just... oh, shit, I just don't get it.

Example:

Walk into the room. Sparky's on the machine. Maniacal gleam in his eye, apparently on some sort of mission to save the world from bards and 'tards... I dunno.

I sit down. Try to start a conversation. It seems to be working... then it goes so far over my head I can't seem to understand how in the hell I got into the conversation whatsoever, and I try to run from the room as fast as I can. I mean, he starts telling me about his day, then it goes into how he was going to join this guild so they can combine spells and kill this evil magi... I shit you not, this happens.

I finally understand how most guys feel when their wives/girlfriends/whatever start talking about Sex and the City or fashion... except in my case, once the talk moves to "running through the caverns" and "casting spells", my eyes tend to glaze over and I start imagining what real life is like.

I dunno. I just tend to stick with reality... sometimes it's a hell of a lot more interesting than "pretend time", you know. (Plus, you never have to worry about dragons and mages - unless, of course, you're a certain professor from Texas...) Why? I mean - he seems so normal, for the most part? A gamer?! Why? Why?! WHY ME?!

They put warning labels on cd's, smokes, and X-Box games... why not men? "Warning: Gamer Inside"

sometimes it's hard to be a (bearded) woman...

Well, of all days, I think I'm about 90% of my usual mental capacity - in other words, the flu is almost gone. I hope.

Today, I had a full day at work. I mean, it wasn't too eventful, but being under the influence of Sudafed and DayQuil (first cousin of NyQuil), I noticed a wee bit more than I care to admit. To be exact, I think that they should market this particular combination of meds as a hallucinogenic/ADHD aid.

This morning, at my first smoke break of the day, I was alone in the smoke pit enjoying my Marlboro when I heard the voice of a young lady, who was talking on the phone with either her kid or her boyfriend - these days, you can't really tell - and who was apparently taking a break as well. Out of habit, I got a good look at her and immediately, something was off. After about two minutes of staring (not blatantly), I realized what it was:

She had a full beard and moustache.

I'd never seen that before, except on Saturday matinees when I was a kid, and I can tell you this - it is not pretty. No, I didn't take a picture... I think I was in too much shock to think about it. I don't know. It's embedded in my brain forever, up there with the time I walked in on my mom having sex and learning that Frontage Road is not a popular street name.

As usual, I don't know where I'm going with this, but I really needed to share.

fun with religion... introducing the belief-o-matic

During one of my brief episodes of consciousness today, I decided to jump on the 'net and do a little surfing... though I found some rather interesting things today, I still feel like hammered ass (which is a graduation from hammered shit only two days ago - so it's an improvement), but I'm getting better.

Anyway, tonight I thought that I'd share the results on what religion the Belief-O-Matic thinks that I should subscribe to, which I thought was kinda cool... so far, it thinks (in this order) that I could be associated with. And the scary thing? It's right. I love the Liberal Quakers one, though... but maybe it's just me.

1.	Reform Judaism (100%)
2.	Unitarian Universalism (92%)
3.	Sikhism (89%)
4.	Liberal Quakers (79%)
5.	Neo-Pagan (75%)
6.	Orthodox Judaism (73%)
7.	Bah�'� Faith (72%)
8.	Jainism (70%)
9.	Mahayana Buddhism (70%)
10.	Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (70%)

Okay, I'm done.

200th post PLUS movie review!

Yesterday afternoon, my daughter and I went to see Sarah Silverman: Jesus Is Magic.

I won't go into too much detail because a) I'm tired, and b) I really don't feel like it.

I will share a line or two with you that tightened the mother/daughter bond, though...

"Every time you don't win at tag, an angel gets AIDS. Beautiful angel... full-blown AIDS."

"The perfect time to have a baby is when you're a black teenager."

'kay. Bye.

experimental writing, part six

"I don't want to be in this relationship anymore."

It took her a few days of building up enough courage to say those eight short words, but she finally said them after a rather bad evening out with friends.

"Why? Why are you saying this," he asks, seemingly clueless yet in total agreeance with the previous transaction of verbiage.

"You're smothering me. You don't trust me. I can't... I can't fucking live like this anymore. I somehow managed to survive over 20 years without your help, your assistance... your incessant worrying and canoodling, the lack of personal space... I can't do this anymore! I'm beginning to hate you -" and with that, she slaps her hand over her mouth.

"Hate me? Why? Because I love you so much I can't bear to be without you? Because I worry so much about you, that I must be with you constantly for fear that you may be harmed?"

"No."

"Then, please tell me - why?"

"Because I have no friends. You've run them off. Of all of my friends, only one has stuck by my side - and I have to talk to him in secret simply because you won't let me see him without your presence... I'm sorry, but I can't live like this anymore."

"Can we at least talk about this? I'm sorry. I want this to work. Please... let's give it another chance."

"I want my friends back - and they won't talk to me. Why? Because I'm not ALLOWED to talk to them without you being there... if you're scrolling through my phone and see a man's name, it starts a fight. Have I given you reason to no trust me? No. I account for every minute of my day - and that fucking sucks, because I literally have to LOG every minute of my day. I resent you, and I am borderline hating you right this second. I do not - I repeat - DO NOT want to be in this relationship anymore. Not one more minute..."

"I trust you. It's my fault for bringing my past experiences into this relationship. You've given me no reason to not trust you... please, can we try this one more time?"

"I don't know. We'll see... I'm going out for a while, and I have no clue when I'll be back - or if I'll be back."

And then she walked out the door.

fuck the bird flu, i've got eagle pneumonia

I'm sick. Not just sick, but...

...I'm siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick.

I have the no voice whatsoever-stuffed up nose - feverish - aching head - deep cough - sore muscles - oh dear mother of god i'm gonna fuckin' die - crud.

I think it's time to bring in the big guns... NyQuil.

See you in a week.

oh yes... he IS spartacus

Because of my youngest (umm, yeah...), I've become a huge fan of this show from Iceland called, "Lazytown".

I mean, it's a show that teaches kids about morals and all that other shit that kid shows are supposed to have... it's good stud, I mean, stuff.

(The fact that the hottie in blue is a gymnast has absolutely nothing to do with it at all... that, and the fact that his real name is Magnus - oh my god.)

i love you most (inspired by erma bombeck)

For my daughter:

Babygirl, you've brought me joy and heartache, laughter and tears, and throughout the years have stuck with me, regardless of the decisions that I've made. You and I've not seen eye to eye recently on things, but still... you're turning into a remarkable young lady and it's evident that you'll be a sensation as an adult. It surprises me that you've turned out as well as you have, considering that you've had me (of all people) as your mother, and I thank God each and every day for bringing you into my life. You've put up with a lot, and have allowed me to grow up with you. I had you when I wasn't much older than you are now, and when I think of how much different you are than I was at your age, it makes me so proud of the decisions that you've made in your life... you're awesome, baby.

For this, I love you most.

For my oldest son:

Booger, there's been times in this old lady's life that you - and only you - have been able to bring me out of that funky mood. When those times were happening, and I was trying to hide it from you and your brother, you knew... and always had a joke to tell me. No matter how corny it was, it still made me laugh. You've had to experience things that a little kid shouldn't have to in their life, and yet you still put on a brave face and want to save the world. I am in awe of your strength, and wish I could be as strong as you. You're my inspiration, babe, and I couldn't be more proud of you.

For that, I love you most.

For the baby:

You're the one who makes me feel young again. Through your young eyes, I get to experience the world from your perspective... and it's an interesting one at that. I had you in my 30's, when I thought I was finished with having kids, and I don't regret it one single bit. I'm thankful that you're in my life, and the fact that you love me as much as I love you - and have no problem showing it - amazes me. You're sensitive and tough, gentle and rough, and boy through and through... but you never have a problem shouting out for the world to hear, "I LOVE YOU MOMMA!"

You're a cool kid.

For that alone, I love you most.

gun toting doctors, chickenhead and his sex, and my nerves get shot in the process

Arriving at work this morning at roughly 0645, just in time for a quick smoke and an even quicker jog through the parking lot, I realized something today... damn, it's cold.

It's been one of those days where I just go and sit and listen to the trainer, well, train, and the pool balls fall into the pockets. Sitting at my seat today, fighting the urge to simply pass out from not only medicine-induced exhaustion, but also from plain, old fashioned boredom, I pass the time by mentally writing Christmas-inspired poems for my ex-mother-in-law and poking a pen cap into the back of my neck to see if it's still numb (it is).

As it was inclimate weather, they dismissed us early, which worked out for me as I had a doctor's appointment for some exotic sounding test called an EMG, which basically means that they take a needle that's hooked up to electrodes and they shove 'em into various muscles in your body, just to see how bad your nerve damage is. (I may talk about it some other time... I don't feel like it right now.)

Prior to the appointment, I came home to kill time... so I went ahead and watched more Sex and the City. As I'm watching my show, Chickenhead pops into the living room and plops on the couch, watches the show, commenting at the right places, following the plot... the guy is a bigger addict than I am.

Afterwards, I head off to my appointment.

Waiting in the lobby for the aforementioned test, there is a couple - a cute couple - who happens to be sitting nearby. As neither look ill or injured, I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with 'em... then it dawns on me: They're there for their Botox injections.

Wow.

45 minutes later, I go in. Eventually, Doc's doing the test, and we're comparing stories about mutual friends, when he lets it slip about the time one of our mutual friends (who also happens to be a doctor) happened to get arrested for taking a gun to the airport - by accident. (WTF?) Laughing, this small exchange of conversation during a rather, shall we say, uncomfortable procedure helped. A lot.

I don't know where I'm going with this particular post, but I feel a little better now.

Hell, the morphine's kicking in, anyway.

oh, well... that's weird.

I started my new job the other day.

Nothing major, just standard tech support. Is it a career decision that I plan on staying with for the rest of my life? Nah, just something to pay the bills - well, okay, I'm exaggerating here - or at least maybe pay ON a couple of bills, anyway.

Some of the things that I like about this gig:

It's a jean job, which loosely translates to this... they pay so little, they know you can't afford to buy nice office clothes, so they'll let you wear jeans to work.

There is a pool table in the breakroom.

And a crushed ice dispenser, too.

Why am I talking about the whole popularity thing today? Well, I had my 2nd interview with another company today after work, as well as a callback from yet another company... and I just checked my email, and two other companies wanna interview me, too.

I'm feeling about as popular as Jenna Jameson at a Boy Scout's meeting right now.

This is just really weird... I mean, this has never really happened to me before.

'kay. I'm done.

okay, i'm in a better mood now... it's safe

In the spirit of the season - and my own sadistic mood - I bring you Michael Jackson in his true glory.

just a lot of random thoughts turning into a collective ball of funk... but that's how george clinton started, isn't it?

Oh hell, I'm back. I think. Maybe.

First off, let me share something with you that just caught my attention: this is where clowns go when they die.

Dammit, I'm in a funk again. I hate this, I really do. Perhaps it's PMS, or maybe it's just my inner bitch coming to surface for a little air. I don't know. I'm in a bad mood, and I'm venting... and as far as today goes, it's a lot.

Yesterday, I got word that my pop was alive and kicking... and living in Houston. He had the choice to come to Dallas or go to Houston - he chose to go where I'm not, and not contact me. I've been worried sick for months... and the asshole didn't have the fucking decency to call me and say, "Hey, I'm not a drowning victim, I'm alive but I just really don't want to talk to you right now."

Fuck Katrina, he's gotta worry about Thomasina now.

Maybe he didn't want to become a burden on me... he wouldn't have, he's my pop. But GODDAMN! I don't care if he's off the wagon again, I don't care if he's drunk 99% of the time - I just wanted to make sure that he was okay. Am I right to be pissed?

Fuck yeah I am.

Then the rest of the male population is managing to piss me off a bit more each and every day, and I fear that it's about to skew my views about the males in my own life.

Personally, I don't understand the male species at all. (And they say that women are bad? Geez, I don't get it... maybe that's why I didn't become a full fledged lesbian after all.)

3/4 a mother and half of her son

Tonight, Ninja Joe decided to whip out the camera and take photos of things that interested him.

Apparently, he's either gotten his mother's eye for off-centered pics, or... he's just trying to get the good features of his subjects.

speechless, part 12

Going through the various emails and such, Sparky just walked into the bedroom a few minutes ago, serious look on his face and a steak knife in hand.

"Whatcha doin', babe?"

"Gettin' old school on this bitch."

Thinking that he's looking for a mouse, a cat, perhaps even a lost treasure, I go back to work on the machine.

Then he stabs the wall. With feeling.

"Ummm... babe?"

Stab. Stab. Leave room. I sit here in utter amazement, silent, maybe a little scared. (I mean, the guy just fucking stabbed our wall for no good reason... it didn't do anything to deserve such treatment.)

Here it is, roughly four minutes later, and I am proud to announce that the wall didn't die in vain - we now have cable wired into the bedroom, through the small hole that hails from the living room.

holy hand grenades, batman! it's the end of the year - almost

During yet another long night of watching bad tv and drinking warm milk, I thought about this past year's events and wondered... how in the hell did I get through this without losing my ever-lovin' mind?

So I decided to do a "SPTAM 2005... The Year That Sucked Somewhat, But Ended Up Not Sucking So Bad After All" post. Here it is, in it's entirety. (It's long, and I apologize.)

Early January: After discovering that my boyfriend of a year has been seeing other people - okay, okay... other men - during the course of our relationship, he moves out... with half of my shoes. Just the left ones. He also manages to clean out the bank account, just in time for bills to be left unpaid. SPTAM leaves the Navy as a reservist, and enlists in the Army, as she is - at that point - jobless, and thanks to Shoe Boy, penniless. (Also admittedly somewhat bitter from the effect... but as usual, I digress.)

End of January: Spent the last week on the couch, watching Springer and chomping on lots of ice. Discovered country music. Yeah, it wasn't pretty.

February: Spent pretty much the entire month packing a four bedroom home on my own. Not too sure what else happened during that month as it was a 30-day bender. Oh, I do recall spending Valentine's Day all day at MEPs... and then doing an artsy fartsy photo shoot for a friend of mine who was in a bind.

March: Slept with roughly 34% of the population in Dallas County, and perhaps 7% of the USMC, then went active duty Army. Miss my daughter's birthday, but managed to have an autographed Paul Frank original purse delivered to her for the special day... plus, the sargeants were cool enough to let me call her. Begin a hand written journal and name it "Serial PTA Moms: Myth or Reality?".

April through June: Get through training, working through an injury. Write to all friends and family, which was the only release other than the journal I'd started. The only people who write me back are my kids, my ex-husband (#2), and a scottish vampire I'd just begun seeing before leaving. Get inkling that my best friend doesn't give a rat's ass about me as she never responded to any of my letters. (Little did I know...)

June through July: Accept the offer of ELS since I kept reinjuring my knee, and return to Dallas. Proceed to reestablish relationship with kiddos while getting a job in immediate area - easier said than done. Start this blog, which sorta got a little popular. Develop a meaningful relationship with new electronic boyfriend, sTivo. Realize that drinking and the internet can be a bad thing at times, and begin to go out on a regular basis. Meet a number of interesting people; a couple of whom I wish that I could have known for a long time. Start to get my shit together, somewhat, and still admittedly messed up over last major relationship... begin to rethink my life, and would have made a great candidate for a new cult, down to the point of shaving head and playing the tambourine somewhere in Arkansas. Begin searching for jobs, but have yet to land an interview.

Remainder of July: Continue to meet a series of guys, an endless series of first dates or whatever. Get inkling that maybe I need to go out with someone seemingly normal. Get retarded. Do really retarded things. Hang with kids, radio in car gets stolen. During this period, begin wondering the one question everyone has on their minds: WTF? Start dating a guy, who later turned out to be a psychotic leech. Job search becomes a bit more intensive, and actually get a few interviews... as my previous position of almost three years involved a uniform and a security clearance, it soon becomes obvious that my people skills are, um, lacking somewhat. Get my shoes back. Life is beautiful. I am a golden goddess.

August: Dump psychotic leech guy. Do my rounds. Still hang with kids, and somehow find work fulltime... finally. Boss turns out to be THAT GUY from Office Space (mmmmm... yeah). Literally. Regret taking the job. Deal with daughter's symptoms returning (depression) while also trying to juggle a number of other things going on at once. I also rediscover a newfound love for fatty, grease soaked food as well as a cute, inked, punk rock guy.

September: I age another year... and begin to feel sad for myself. My daughter's symptoms are getting worse, and I begin to worry more and more each day. The former guy gets a TRO... the new guy that I'd been seeing and I decide to just go for it, throw caution to the wind, and tie the knot in a private ceremony in what is now our living room. People are shocked, as well as myself, and some are pissed. The Girl has no issues with him, per se, but with the fact that I made this decision without consulting her. (In hindsight, we should have told her before getting the license, but that's neither here nor there...) Former best friend stirs shit up with my child to the point that her mental well being is in jeapordy, and I retaliate in a way that, well... again, hindsight is 20/20. Temper tantrums are never a good thing, especially when you're old enough to pay taxes.

October: Spend the month job hunting, while doing medical stuff for not only my kids, but for myself as well. Prepare for the important events of Halloween, Sparky's birthday, an upcoming trip, and a visitor from San Diego. Start to focus on returning to school - or something - in order to stay somewhat sane. Work on getting daughter well, and signs are showing... we have our first lunch date in a month, and by Halloween, it's almost all back to good.

November: Spend a week in California - in just about every fucking city imaginable. Plus Mexico. My youngest child reveals that he is some sort of child genius in his Lego creations... though he's just turned four years old, he is making actual things with the evil toys. DiVinci ain't got nothin' on my youngin'. Ninja Joe expresses a love for the Gimme Gimmies and helps cook Turkeyzilla. The Girl tells me to turn my music down, while sharing her cd's with me (ugh! eisley?!). Life is slowly coming back to normal. I love it.

Early December: For the first time in roughly twenty years, I am experiencing the worst case of insomnia in the world, and have been for almost two months. Have tried just about every medication out there, and am about to hit the heavy stuff: NyQuil. Get a new job, make holiday plans. Things are slow, and actually... normal?

Remainder of December: Well, I'm not John Edward or LaToya Jackson, but I think nothing else big will happen. Hopefully. We'll see.

And that, my dears, is my year in review.

no more slummin' for this old gal

Between running back and forth with Sprint and waiting for the SBA, I really needed to get something - anything - before making Ramen became a daily regime. (Not to say that I don't like those organizations, it's just that... hell, even if I do get called in, I've gotta make some sort of income between now and at least January.)

I mean, Festivus is coming!

little johnny can't read and bettie page can't dance

In a moment of clarity (this is generally what happens when one is either over-stressed or simply nuts), I realized something that is of upmost importance to the world, all thanks to On Demand through our cable company... and that is this fact: Bettie Page cannot dance. I shit you not, for those of you with Comcast & On Demand, go to "The Cutting Edge", choose "Something Weird", and then "Bettie Page".

You will not be disappointed.