i'm too young for this

Today, my daughter turned 16.

Tonight, she is out with friends.

She's gone from this, my baby girl... to what I like to refer to as... holy fucking batshit, my daughter's gorgeous.

I'm way too damned young to have a 16 year old.

(Yes, that's a pic of my youngest, Jakey, aka The Boy, on her back.)

Happy Birthday, Jessi... you're cool, even if you do still call me "Mommy".

just because i can!

cleaning out the email box and found this one...

Imagine that you go out one night to a really nice bar with your friends and have a few cocktails.
They taste good, so you have a few more and then the DJ puts on 'I Will Survive,' so you're off on the dance floor... after an hour or so, when 'Heart of Glass' has finished, and more modern music comes on , you come back to the group for a rest and another cocktail or three and you notice a group of men standing nearby and one of them is looking at you. You look back at him and there is tangible chemistry between the two of you.

YOU buy him a drink.

He likes a woman who is not afraid to buy a man a drink. He approaches you to chat and you get on really well...when the time seems perfect for both of you, he leans over and kisses you.

You have never been kissed like this before, an electric kiss and a tingle shudders through your entire body and you don't want it to stop.

"I don't usually do this sort of thing," you hear yourself saying, "but I've never felt like this before. Do you want to come back to my place?"

You wake up the next morning, and you roll out of bed, half-asleep , to go to the toilet , last night's memories slightly blurred... you look at yourself in the mirror, make an "urgh" sound -
as you're sitting there, vivid flashes of what would seem like a marathon sex session flicker back into your head and you remember that you fell in love last night .

With a smile on your face , you stand up and walk back to the bedroom and see...

latest results state...

I am 60% White Trash.

I may have been raised white trash, but I have escaped to find the other side. Even now my white trash traits sneak out, like drinking beer from the bottle at a restaurant.

Take the
White Trash Test
@ FualiDotCom

...whew.

semi regular feature, kinda like when old people don't eat muffins

I'm bored, and I've decided to go ahead and try to think of something to do... so I'm playing with the music toy and here's what I've come up with: Playlist of the Day... neat, huh?

Other than that, nothin' else is new. Well, yeah, but not enough to write about.

Yet.

Have fun!

crossing over with chocolate while writing about rhapsody related shit

It's Sunday morning, and I've had a chance to finally catch up on much missed sleep. I'm listening to my new toy, some online jukebox thingie, and I'm awed on the number of songs I've been able to find over the past couple of days... playlists galore, I've got shit divvied up into categories of "Bad Mood", "Wakin' Up", and "Easy Listening Shit". Ninja Joe loves it, and trust me, I love it too.

I thought I'd kill a couple of birds with one stone and talk about a few things that're near and dear to my heart: readin', writin', music, and chocolate.

For those of you that haven't read Crossing Over, it's actually a pretty good read. I mean, it's not full of artsy fartsy new age bullshit, it's more of a behind the scenes/story behind the story kinda book. It doesn't give advice, and it's in no way, shape, or form some sort of self help book for the psychic realm. (Other than the fact that the guy's not hard on the eyes, he actually is "real people"... 'cept he talks to dead people.) I highly recommend it.

That, and I love chocolate. Especially when I'm reading... maybe that explains why I'm hittin' 145?

I'm going to start writing on a regular basis again, and I'm going back to the old format: what kind of shit goes on in a mom's mind... and things that happen, behind the scenes, when dealing with mom-stuff.

In other words, I'm back, people. Missed me?

I did.

more experimentation with postings...

I have a new toy... and it doesn't require batteries for once!

SPTAM's Song of the Day requires a Rhapsody download, but is completely worth it.

Lemme know what you think, y'all!

a temporary hello, and an update on being the mother of a teenaged daughter

First off, I wanted to apologize for my, um... lack of control and overall general pissed-offness for a posting (okay, two) that I've since removed.

I'm okay. That, I wanted to assure you all. Better than that, I'm gonna be even better; in fact, each day is a little better than the last. As far as access to postings, etc., it's limited, but it'll happen.

I'm tired and it's late, but I did want you to know I'm fine... Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional, but still it's a lot more positive than it's been in recent weeks.

Life with The Girl has been interesting, to say the least. She's been hanging around the wrong people, and it's a fuckin' laugh a minute... she's got a warrant in one city, and we have a court date for her skipping school at the new one in a couple of weeks, too. She's attended 13 days out of the last 37.

Good times.

Well, at least I'm not a grandma.

blaine? his name is blaine?! that's a major appliance, not a name!

I watched Pretty In Pink tonight and realized something: I had the biggest crush on Jon Cryer. I mean, I wanted to do the Duckman, and somethin' fierce. I used to imagine that I was Molly Ringwald and imagine that instead of Molly hooking up with Blaine, she ended up with Duckie... but it wasn't her, it was me.

Ah, yes... good times, people. Good times.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I really related to that movie on so many levels... it's one of those movies - fuck, I think it's all of John Hughes' flicks - that will make many generations think about cliques and status and, well... fashion, if you wanna get down and dirty with it.

Iona (Annie Potts) was my favorite character, and I think that on some subconsious level, I've channelled her throughout my adult life. Even The Girl says that she sees a lot of me in that character when she watches the movie... umm, is that like a bad thing?

Anyway, I thought I'd share. I'm done with this segment. I'll post more in a bit.

another stretch in experimental writing

She'd had enough.

She was in her mid-30's and was trying to dig her way out of the mess she'd put herself and her kids in, all from not thinking and simply acting on instinct. He seemed normal at first, but for the past few months, he'd been acting weirder and weirder each and every day.

She'd spoken to shrinks and counselors, as well as researched on the internet what she thought may be the culprit - schizophrenia. All the signs were there, and her gut instinct was telling her to run away as fast as she could... but she couldn't. She was broke, and she was trying to take care of her kids. She was going through a spell to where she thought that she'd end up joining him in his madness as opposed to running from it - benefits for the kids, man, that's all that mattered at that point in her life.

Never mind the number of times that she'd overlooked him forgetting important events or even not recalling in depth conversations from hours before - maybe it was her, and she was the one who was mad, and not him. Maybe it was her going insane, and simply observing this craziness from a third party's point of view? Maybe it wasn't her, per se, but one of her other personalities?

Days later, she's laying in a bed in the emergency room, seeing double and not really recalling the events from a few hours prior to what landed her in that bed in the first place. She'd remembered trying to get through the door and him blocking her; she'd remembered telling him repeatedly to get out of her way so she could leave; she remembered seeing her hand - her fist, actually - striking his chin, literally jumping up in order to meet his chin as he was over a foot taller than she; and she had remembered running down the hallway, screaming for the police. She recalled being thrown against the wall and hitting the floor. Hard. Her right arm not wanting to cooperate, and her head feeling swimmy... and fast. Losing consciousness - but not all of it. It's grey, and she doesn't want to move or she'll pass out. She's almost gone. Grey, but not black. She remembered hearing her younger daughter screaming while she was trying to stay on the lighter side of the grey, and then she saw her other daughter fighting him - that's when she fought like there was no going back. She was a tigress protecting her cubs... and her cubs were in danger. She bit him in the leg, the taste of his blood still in her mouth, and she wouldn't let go until her daughter was safe - each punch to her head, she bore down harder, until she knew her daughter was safe - the last thing she remembers is her daughter saying, "Momma! I'm ok!" and then blackness, as he slams a fist into her skull with enough force to (as the doctors inform her later) fracture her skull with at least one of those punches.

She lays there, trying to make sense of it all... and all she can do is one thing: pray for a miracle.

Oh, fuck, she thinks, what the hell do I do now?

caught on film: one sexy beast

I caught this particular shot the other day, and just wanted to share it with you.


Okay, that's all I have to say for now.

Bye.

kinky parades and burned nipples

Recuperating from having tanned in the nude - indoors and all alone - and baked a little too long, I sit here (uncomfortably) with not only burned T&A, but also, my... ummm... hoohaw. (Thanks, Jen!)

Having a burned hoohaw gives me a new outlook on the phrase, "hot pussy", to say the least.

Enough of that, on to more important things, like Kinky politics and the roller derby, a sport close to my heart.

Well, I'm not gonna talk about all that after all. My asscheeks are starting to itch (it's peeling, I think), and I'm tired. Phone interview in the AM before work, so maybe it'd be a good idea to catch some Zzzzz's while I have the chance.

I'll post more tomorrow. Here's some pics from the Greenville Ave St. Patty's Day Parade, courtesy of my cameraphone (aka "The Cams of Death").

stop the presses!

I found this by accident - or divine intervention.

It's nothing but single panel cartoons regarding one man's quest to Mecca (or is it Tijuana?) with Mohammed, who's a dude that gets around.

I love this, and you should, too.

Again, DAMMIT!

(Jenn, I stole this pic for you, darlin'.)

amazing date this evening... with my kid

Tonight, I had a date of sorts with my oldest boy, who happens to be one of the coolest kids in the entire universe. During dinner, we discussed world events, ghosts, and - as he brought it up - his dad.

As per the world events, it's safe to say that my son has not embarked on a journey of sorts to take over the world, but he does plan on being a drummer or perhaps a doctor. Or maybe a priest. He doesn't know... and I look at it this way: as long as he's happy, I'm happy.

Ghosts? Oh, because the restaraunt that we went to is supposedly haunted. Joe was convinced we were being watched by the spirit of one of the people who's pic was on the wall, and it didn't help matters much when he went to the bathroom and the pipes of the place were "groaning". Poor kid... he'll only need a couple year's worth of therapy for that one.

Ahh, yes, his dad... yes. He told me that he'd asked his dad what he remembered most about me, and my thinking it'd be negative, I braced myself for the worst. (To bring you up to date, his dad/my ex has been in prison for the past few years... our divorce was not very pleasant, and the post divorce period was even worse. Cordiality was not in our vocabulary, to say the least.) I expected him to say something like, "Your mom has red hair" or "Her tattoo"... but wasn't prepared for what our son repeated to me over dinner. The following is what he told our son in a letter. It's not in verbatum, but it's the best I can do. (Doing this from memory.)

He remembers that I won't eat M&Ms because the commercials with the talking candies freak me out - I'm scared they might feel me crunching them with my teeth. He remembers the day we got married, with my big belly (7 months pregnant with Joe), and had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. He remembers that I snort when I laugh, and it's usually over something really dumb, and he remembers that I always drink with my pinky out, no matter if it's out of a glass, cup, or bottle. He remembers that when I was in labor with Joe, I did paperwork and discussed business with his dad in the hospital room until 30 minutes before Joe was born, and still thinks to this day that I'm the strongest woman in the world because I didn't make any noise when I was bringing him into the world. He remembers when he taught me how to country dance and I stepped all over his feet, and how we used to win contests after I learned how. He then said that I made him feel ten feet tall and like the toughest guy in the world - and this is from a dude who's 5'1".

He said a few more things, and I can't really remember them right now - all I can say is that I was shocked that he'd say all those nice things about me, after all the bullshit we've said to eachother over the past 16 months. I was under the impression that he hated me, to say the least... and even if he still does, it still makes me proud to know that he's man enough to put up a good front and say something nice about the mother of his kid. Joe asks me from time to time what I remember about his dad - and I know he wants to hear good things - and I tell him all about the good things that his dad represents/represented... things a kid needs to hear about their parentage - especially their dads. I just wouldn't have guessed his dad would've done the same thing.

Men.

Dammit.

insanity at it's finest... things you only read about on the radio

The past couple of weeks have been insane, to say the least. I mean, if I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have had any luck at all... but I'm not complainin'. Much, anyway.

Taking the position at 'Rent has been the karmic equivilent of running over a black cat. Literally.

Don't get me wrong, but I think the best part of the past two weeks would be when I took my daughter to buy a home pregnancy test - and it came back negative.

I can't say much about my sons for the past couple of weeks, because I haven't had a chance to see them. Why? Because of my fucking work schedule - though I work "decent" hours, I'm still in an hour's commute each way... so I don't get home 'til almost 9 every night, and if I'm not out the door by 0915 every morning, I'm looking at the possibility of being late to work at 1030.

Other than my dad/stepdad (that's been covered already) having another heart attack, and my being in a position to where I was on the recieving end of getting a concussion, a 1/2" hairline skull fracture, and a torn rotator cuff, as well as getting written up at work for missing two days of work from aforementioned injuries, plus having my period for an amazing, record breaking twelve days straight, not to mention the fact that Sparky and I've hit the level to where we're talkin' separate living arrangements... yeah, it's been fuckin' peachy.

Tomorrow, I have the day off... and two interviews for jobs that're not only closer to home, but with companies that actually trust their employees. Hopefully by Friday, I'll get a call from one of 'em with an offer, and can tell my micromanaging boss to cram it. Why is she so micromanaging? I have no clue, really. All I can say is that we're scored on how we handle calls, and one day recently she had remotely monitored one of my calls... she knocked off 15 points because I said the word "combined" instead of "together" during the 20 second opening shpiel: ("Good afternoon and thank you for calling Rent combined with Foxtail this is Tami ID number XXX1313 how can I help you sir or ma'am?")

Well, I can look at it this way... it could be worse. I mean, I coulda got the word that I was gonna be a grandmother before the age of 35.

i'm alive...

I promise.

Will post soon... lots and lots of shit goin' on, but I'll post soon.

xoxo,

SPTAM