we're going places...

i'm looking forward to what 2012 might have in store. i hate change, never been good with it. still wish sometimes i was a teenager, living at home with my parents, following rules. i wasn't that kid in a rush to grown up. i'm all set with staying right where i am. if i could i'd stay married but live at home. ha ha. you think i am kidding. ask my friends.

each year brings on big changes, and finally, i look forward to what this one has in store to be honest. i don't want to hold back, i want to go for it. i don't want to be afraid and i don't want to plan, because when i make plans, it rains, or snows, or god laughs and says, "not happening".

let it flow. let it go. i'll be me, because that i can't control. i will control what i can, and let what it is, be. i'll dream in my color palliate, and no one elses, i will speak my mind, and not bite my tongue. 2012 i'm ready for you, and i'm packing my bags, because i hope you take me places. don't know if i'll write again before the new year... so to all of you 'funny girls' out there, have a happy and healthy new year. pack your bags, because we're going places.

hau'oli makahiki hou

how to find stupid people without even trying...

i'm not the brightest person you'll ever meet, but i'm certainly not the dumbest. at least i hope i'm not. i'm educated, both worldly and scholarly. that isn't to say that because i have degrees i'm smarter than those that don't, or that because i grew up in "the big city", i'm more intelligent than your suburban human. i'm just saying that i'm not some idiot out there in the world.

there are pet peeves of mine that really get me fired up. some are pretty small and simply just scratch at the surface. some are catastrophic; when they occur i'm a monster. i can admit these things because i have this innate sense of self-awareness (almost to a fault). with all that being said, the stresses of holidays have hit people like a ton of bricks. i take care of my tasks in stride and try not to add to my already stressful existence. but stupidity exists, and i find stupid people without even trying.

if you ever want to find stupid people here's the easiest way how: go out. simply leave your home, or go on facebook, watch tv, or "surf" the Internet and right there clear as day, there they are. staring at you in the face. no joke. assholes, driving straight down the middle of a two way street, you are practically sideswiping cars just to pass them as they honk, flipping you the finger during the giving holiday season. driving well below the speed limit in the left lane, and as you graciously go around them they speed up, again flipping the bird not allowing you enough room to get in front of their slow moving selves.

now, you wonder why i have aggression issues, this is why, drivers who drive slow, down the middle of the block, who run four way fucking stop signs and then honk me. people who jump red lights, almost smashing into my car, cutting lines, cutting across 2, 3, 4 lanes of traffic, therefore creating more traffic. women who drive ENORMOUS SUV's and can't see around their vehicles, and take up 2 parking spots in small parking lots. people who leave carts 2 spaces over from the cart return area. i was in almost 3 car accidents, none of which would have been my fault, 4 miles from my apartment, all because of the way people are driving on the phone, or parked like assholes, or simply not focusing on the task at hand.

people who complain about everything in the world, particularly things they have total control over, but are just perpetual complainers, and like to whine. if you don't like something about your life, change it. say something, do something, act. otherwise leave me alone. i don't feel bad for you. i don't empathize, sympathize, i've got my own shit to contend with, and i don't ask you to do anything but listen every once in a while if you are a dear and close friend. if you aren't then you don't know the inner workings of my existence, and you wouldn't know a daily frustration. if you did, i fix it, i do a kart-wheel, i talk to someone that might be able to help, i don't wallow. suck it up already. teenagers act that way, not grown people. go away, you're harshing my mellow; and during the holidays!

its so aggravating. i should stay home. and when i do i have the idiots that make millions on "reality" tv that isn't reality at all. and we as a society watch it. we have our guilty pleasures, i'm not immune, but how many shows do i need to see about people selling their shit in a pawn shop?

it doesn't stop there. nope. then we have our social network. the all impressive facebook. or as i call it- the devil. it's the devil. here's why. i'm grateful to reconnect with people that i cannot see all the time, and family. then there are those friend collectors, you know exactly who i am talking about. then of course the other people who you can't get rid of because they are friends with someone who you are friends with and that might get funny or weird/awkward. then there's the people you want to delete but they are related to you but you could care less about what they are updating about or posting. i know it sounds terrible, but i don't care that your wife is pregnant again, or that you kid shit on the potty, or that its snowing in africa blah blah blah. RB says i need to remember that facebook isn't real, and most of those people aren't really my friends and i shouldn't let it bother me, but it does. those of you who bother to read this blog know EXACTLY what i am talking about. i know you can relate and whether you admit it to me, or anyone else, you know its true. you'd love to delete 50% of those people on your "friends" list but you just don't for numerous reasons.

its like life. to be perfectly honest. if i could, i would delete (not kill, hurt or disfigure), just remove from my life, because they are too much work, and although i'm only 30 years old, i'm too tired for so much work. if you're my friend, you shouldn't be that much work. life is hard enough without "friends" adding to the mix.

this sounds like one big complaint but in reality its just a list of stupidity that found me on one day. honest, it was like a marathon of a day. i was happy to see the 23rd come. it was a good day, traffic and all. a little less stupidity found me on the 23rd, a lot more laughter found me instead.

sometimes you need a good cry

when i have a bad moment, or bad moments i loose my shit. yesterday i had a bunch of bad moments. last week i had a bunch of bad moments. all those moments were washed away by a simple afternoon with my mom and one amazingly awesome moment.
i couldn't take it. i don't know what the "it" was, all i know was that i found myself sobbing in the shower. it was uncontrollable. i was terrified for some reason; frozen in the warm water beating on my back. i cried so hard i broke a few blood vessels in my face. nothing has been that bad for me to cry that hard, but my grandma always said, "sometimes you just need a good cry, to wash your eyes out."

i went to my mom's, reluctantly. i wasn't sure if it was going to be a good thing or a bad thing. was i going to be able to hold it together or was she going to berate me with questions, "what's wrong?", "whats the problem?", "why do you look like that?" but she asked that i come over and the lil' girl that i still am at 30, i obliged. mom didn't ask me once any of those things. seems like she already knew, i didn't want to be asked and i didn't have the answer to those questions anyway.

she let me help decorate the house with her for the holiday and she didn't complain, she made me laugh out loud, and we sang songs and danced like fools. it made me really miss home. it also made me wonder why i don't go over more, or why i don't spend more time with my mom. then i remembered, i can't hide anything, not a damn thing from my mom. she always knows. (it can be annoying sometimes). i can't pretend, i can pretend for i'd say 90-95% of the people i know; they have no clue as to what nonsense is going on in my head and heart, but mom is not one of them.

my amazing awesome moment was when Jan, let her beautiful son open his Christmas presents from Auntie Rapunzel and Uncle RB. now, i love shoes, and sneakers and i love to buy them. i love my friends and their kids. i love how everyone is having a family, but to be honest, its becoming very expensive for Auntie Rapunzel and Uncle RB, because we do not buy cheap gifts. sale prices, yes, cheap, no! anyway. little man got some clothes to get dirty in and rough house, and a pair of Adidas sneakers. no toys, i know i'm so mean right. but the kid has plenty of people in his life to buy other clothes and toys. far be it from me to deprive him of sneakers!

well, who would have guessed it, but he loved them, as did his daddy. Jan sent me photo after photo and the best little videos of little man blowing kisses and waving at me, he's jumping and running and dancing in those little Adidas sneakers. that was the best early Christmas present i ever got! (next to getting engaged of course, 12.24.2007, 11:15pm). i cried again, this time tears of absolute joy. i wanted to smoosh little man and run and jump and play with him. i'm so glad he liked his cool kicks. i'll be sure to keep him in style till he wants the really expensive ones, then its mommy and daddys' turn.

when i say things can be pretty fucking shitty, and i feel like the world is crashing in on me, and i can't hold on anymore; i try to tell myself things will get better, it won't always be this bad. whatever the this is, will work out. sometimes saying it to myself just isn't enough. on december 17th, i did just that, but it wasn't enough. sometimes i need a breakdown, to breakthrough. thanks bad times, for without them, i wouldn't recognize the good ones.

sometimes i just need a good cry, you know, to wash out my eyes.

who's the 12 year old with the smokers cough?

i met this girl years ago, and we were kinda forced into being friendly to each other due to the circumstances of situation. at the time our boyfriends were best friends. we were polite, but we didn't care for one anothers' company, or so we thought. we thought the same thing about the other. what i thought of her: "she's a stuck up bitch from Long Island, who thinks who the hell she is", what she thought of me: "she's a stuck up bitch from Queens, who thinks who she is".

then something terrible happened. the bitch from long island said 'yes' to the marriage proposal. something had to be done. she was going to be around for a long time, and i was going to have to learn how to play nice. we went for coffee. it went great! later on, we both admitted disliking each other, thats how i have all this intel, that's also how i know that it did in fact go great, because i felt it, and she felt it. it made sense. we clicked. it was simple, and easy, and i loved her. she was my friend; my true friend.

everyone has their little quirks about them, things that make them seem crazy, i have a laundry list of items that actually do make me crazy, i really should have a rubber room somewhere. she liked me anyway and put up with all of it. she kept me calm, and let me cry, she didn't mock me for any of it. when she turned into crystal, her alternate "crazy" self, i went along with it, didn't mock, i rode the wave out.

i forgot to mention one thing about my friend. she's not only an amazing person, she has cystic fibrosis. the disease she had her entire life, became apart of my life. i absorbed it into my world. i loved her specifically because she never defined herself by her disease. it didn't overrun her life, but it did have to monopolize some of it; it's no small potatoes when it comes to diseases.

*Amy is small in stature, petite, like a little girl, but in a woman's body. she's thin, and has cream colored skin. her cheeks (as i remember), always had the color of peaches, (unless she wasn't feeling real well), she's lovely. i'm none of those things, and if we were just running out real quick somewhere, it almost looked like Amy was a 12-13 year old girl compared to me. the sound of her cough at first, is startling. but you get used to it. if you aren't used to a CF cough, you might mistake it for a smokers cough. (i have heard a smokers cough before and could always tell the difference, besides the point, i know). there would be times we would be out, or Amy would be out by herself, and she would cough, real hefty kinda coughing, and people would turn and stare, i wouldn't ignore Amy, i just didn't put a spot light on her. i'd wait till she was done and ask how she was. we would laugh and joke that people must wonder who is this 12 year old with the smokers cough.

years past, we grew closer and then something terrible happened. Amy was no longer my friend due to circumstances of situation. i was heartbroken. i was angry. i said i didn't give a shit, but really i did, a great deal. i missed my friend. i worried about my friend. she didn't need me like i needed her. she had a circle, a tight group of friends and support and love and people that always rode the wave of crystal well before the "stuck up bitch from queens" ever came along. i hated it. she did hurt me though, and i wasn't going to let that happen again. i have to state, a lot of those circumstances of situation that happened i couldn't blame Amy for; she was also put on a transplant list for new lungs because her health had depreciated so much, which didn't help in the situation either. it was a rough go for both of us personally. i was dealing with a lot of stuff on my end too.

18 months went by, give or take a few months and i got an email from Amy saying she saw a dress and thought of me. that was a crack of the door. it's been a year, and Amy and i have repaired our damaged friendship, and have planned on moving on from here. we have apologized for the past and realized that shit happens, circumstances of situations occur and we'll deal with it. this is all great news right? well, i've got even better news...

on december 9, 2011, someone, a glorious someone, who probably didn't think what they were doing at the time was a big deal, saved my friends life by becoming a donor. after months of waiting, and not feeling so great, but kept on praying, fingers and toes crossed, doctors visits, IV drugs, treatments, O2 tanks, 4 dry runs to the hospital, Amy got a double lung transplant. she's doing great. she feels great. she's amazing. she's always been amazing. i've cried a bunch of time because of this happy news. you can't understand how happy you can be for someone until you know them, and watch them wait, finally get a new organ, and new beginnings. in 2001 my uncle was given a second chance when he received a liver transplant.

become a donor, you might save someones life one day. thank you donor families EVERYWHERE. you are amazing people. thank you for saving 2 people i love. i know it's early but Merry Christmas, and Have a Happy and Healthy New Year Everyone.

*you know why you're name is Amy right?*

rules

rule #47: never plan too far in advanced of lessons- inevitably a colleague and/or student will fuck your plan up.

rule #126: never wear real shoes (boots, heels, anything of the non-sneaker variety), to a place like where i work, inevitably (like today) you will have to break up a fight (or two), and run down the hall after a student (or two) therefore endangering your ankles, back and any other miscellaneous body parts.

cheers to the holiday spirit!

i really enjoy sending and receiving mail. i send cards to my friends on a regular basis and notes to my grandparents. i don't mind writing out holiday cards. i especially enjoy sending my holiday cards to my friends who i know get a kick out of my funny, yet rude holiday cards. i take pleasure in taking the time to address each card, sign the card and even write a little note inside the card to let the people, which i am sending the cards to know that i took the time out to appreciate them. however, it has come to my attention in the recent of years that people, family included are fucking lazy and impersonal. i get it. limited time, limited funds, the joy and ease of computers, but c'mon people it's gone beyond the point of anything and everything i can take. (this isn't just for holiday cards, this goes for thank you cards as well).

it's great getting those nice little picture cards with peoples kids/families on them, but would it kill you to sign it? or at least write my name on it? i'm not saying that it isn't difficult to get that cute kid or dog or family of yours to sit still for a beautiful picture, or its super easy to work any of the numerous websites to create the photo card, i make calendars off those sites, but it becomes a little impersonal year after year after year. especially from people who don't have kids at all. (dogs count as "kids" in my book,  and i don't want to look at a picture of a couple). i got a card from a family member recently that the return address label was printed from a computer, my address was printed from a computer, the card was pre-printed as was the signature. the inside message was also pre-printed and there was no date and it wasn't addressed inside the card. now, i'm sure none of this seems that big of a deal to you all, but when you get card after card that is pre-printed, with nothing written on it you might as well be a stranger for cryin' out loud. 

this isn't a regular complaint, i'm just disappointed. i'm not saying you all should spend all that extra time, or am i patting myself on the back like that fucking student-teacher twit, but it's a holiday card. it would have been nice, at the very least, to read my name, or yours written inside the card you sent. (no one here is saying you need to write a note to everyone- but family deserves a note/ family-like friends deserves a note; all opinion). i guess on the other hand, i should just be happy you sent me a card at all. BUT when all this happens year after year, it makes me want to put you on that insignificant people list. 

i could always send a picture myself next year, which at this point, i'm totally thinking about doing, maybe i'll take a picture of my ass- it's a pretty sweet ass, it's gotta fucking elephant on it- pre-print a signature, pre-print a date, pre-print everything taking out everything that makes up the personality, the sweetness and all the specialness that i love about holiday cards, and mail those fuckers out; because currently, i don't feel like anyone actually appreciates their cards anymore. i feel like they do it because it's a custom. habit. like buying a shit load of unnecessary presents. 

please, don't take this the wrong way, i love my friends and my family, and i enjoy those picture cards, like i said earlier, would it be terribly difficult to sign it, or say 'hi'? but those extraneous people that get a card from me, won't be getting one next year, and i guarantee that they won't even notice. so maybe they are doing me a favor. in the same breath, i can't avoid sending family cards, but i can avoid being so giving and thoughtful in how i write my card. i guess that seems like it defeats the purpose but i'm tired of stressing, and getting myself worked up, doing so much for everyone else, and not getting back what i've been giving. 

i hate this about me; i'm uptight, i'm anxious, i'm wound to tight. i let too much bother me. by not doing so much, maybe i can unwind, be less anxious and not let the fact that maybe because people have decided to take, in my opinion, an easier/quicker route during the holiday season, piss me off, i can enjoy the little things. like writing my notes in my christmas cards, or write longer ones to the people that will still actually get one next holiday season. 

so for those who sent me a card this season (RB's old boss), who just signed her name and did nothing else, (i mean it, she signed her name), don't look for a card from me. if it's that important to RB, he'll send you one, it won't be coming from me, unless it's a picture of my elephant! 

enjoy the silence

something happens to teachers when they get tired, or it hits the end of the day or it hits some point of the day. or maybe it's just me. it's probably just me. i start to get a little kookie in the day; by kookie i mean, i dance, and sing and do kart-wheels down the hall. now, i know this is in no way the ideal behavior for a teacher to participate in but like i said, sometimes it just hits that point of the day, or week that you just crack and it's either going to be a kart-wheel down the hall or a kid shoved down a flight of stairs.

don't get me wrong, i like my job. i don't love it. i like it. i like those little moments when a kid does something well, or something clicks, and they learn, i like it even better when they change their attitude or way of thinking or acting. i'm more a teacher of the human being than the teacher of the academia. yeah sure, reading, writing and math and all that is important and of course i want them to succeed but if they grow up to be waste product douche bags, who gives a shit if they can read and write. so, i do a kart-wheel when my day isn't going so right.

today, today wasn't a good day. today i am tired, and cranky, and one of my favorite people in the world would say, "how is that different from any other day?" well my dear friend, like i usually tell him, i'm not always cranky, tired usually, cranky no. no kart-wheels today. i tried to sing but it didn't work. i tried to dance, but it didn't work. i tried to not pay any mind to the idiotic behavior of my colleagues who were irritating the ever-loving shit out of me. i made a valiant attempt at listening to the soundtrack to my life that plays in my head. it was no use. it was not sunny for me today. (if you are wondering if i shoved a kid down the stairs today, i didn't. although, if i told you what actually happened to me today you might have wondered why i didn't).

the best part of my day today was coming home... to an empty house. RB is out. i finished decorating the christmas tree, made dinner for myself and enjoyed an independent movie that otherwise i wouldn't be able to watch because RB finds them usually boring. i have barely said a word. i have been listening to music or the soundtrack to my life that plays in my head. i'm very tired but i'm not ready to go to bed just yet because i am too busy enjoying the silence and the time i'm having with myself.

while i was decorating the tree i noticed myself thinking things that my mom used to say out loud like, "i'm not putting all these ornaments up, then i gotta put them all away", or, "oh crap, how am i going to remember where this came from", "this looks good", "i'm done", "pretty soon this whole thing is going in the garbage", all of these thoughts made me laugh, some out loud. i mention this because if RB were home, and if i had a good day i may not have had my moment with my mom today; she wasn't even here.

in a nutshell, this long winded piece is saying; had i had a good day, i may not have had my moment, i may not have enjoyed my evening as much as i did, i may not have treasured the silence for what it was.

now i can sleep...

miami, france

during a math lesson, one of my brilliant young students was discussing his vast football knowledge. he referred to a team as "the green bay". i corrected him numerous times by telling him he needs to either say, "the green bay packers" or simply, "the packers", saying, the city doesn't account for shortening the team name. he refused to listen (as usual). this continued, as most "discussions" do with my students; brilliant young minds that they are.

finally, i asked, "do you even know what state the green bay packers come from?"
his response at first was, "alabamia." <insert laughter by both myself and my paraprofessional>
we practiced saying the state name, al-a-ba-ma. then, i informed him that the green bay packers play in wisconsin. another brain trust in my room asked if i was sure about that?

i replied "positive".

he conceded to me knowing because he "ain't all that good wit football, i'm better with basketball." "excellent!" i say. moving on with my lesson. i thought it would be over, my brain was officially hurting. (i teach sixth grade, you'd think that by this point they'd have some clue). the same brain trust who didn't believe that wisconsin was the home of the green bay packers asked again if i was sure and i quote... "are you sure it's not miami?"

"no, miami is a city in another state. do you know what state miami is a city in?"

"france!"

welcome to a day in the life...

who's this girl?

there's this girl, i can't tell you much about her and she is one of those insignificant people that RB would say- why do you let her bother you. that is besides the point. she is a pompous little brat. her shoulder must hurt a lot from patting herself on the back all the time; what she's patting herself on the back for, i'm not quite sure of. she hasn't accomplished anything professionally, yet. she's young. she has a lot to learn.

i am in my ninth year of teaching. do you believe that shit? nine years. with that said i am continually learning. i ask my colleagues for help, advice and techniques that might help with not only teaching my students, but also keeping my classroom a learning environment and behaviorally manageable. with that all being said, this girl, isn't even a licensed professional yet, and she walks around judging what people are doing. it's perfectly fine that she judges, however, might i suggest you keep your judgments and your suggestions for improvements to yourself. honestly little one, you are still in school, you are supposed to be learning from us; not reporting back to your professor or to anyone else what we are doing or what we decide to discuss on our lunch breaks.

yeah, you read all that correctly. this little twit of a human being is obviously a student teacher that has decided that she is just so fucking awesome, that she is going to judge our lunch time conversations. she has something to say about everything and everyone, yet she knows no one and nothing about every one.  i'm not saying that a person cannot participate in a conversation, however, when you have nothing to add to the conversation that we are having about our day, and you choose to change the subject repeatedly, but we continuously revert back to the original conversation please realize we are not interested in you or what you are saying. our lunch is our time to bitch about our shit, not listen to your life nonsense. so, shut the fuck up.

and another thing. it's rude to sit on a desk in a school, a bookshelf, or go through another teachers items. your job is to learn all you can from the teacher not the other way around. fuck off little one. don't tell me how "great" i am, or "amusing" i am, or how "inappropriately lovely" i am, because the tone in which you are saying these things are not flattering, they are criticisms. go away little one. learn elsewhere, and annoy someone else.

someone asked me today, "rapunzel, i don't know how you've allowed her to still walk outta here alive?" my response was, "i'm not worried, she keeps going the way she's going, i won't have to fuck her up, she'll do it all herself."

lesson to be learned in this case: it's not always up to someone else to teach the lesson, sometimes you have to learn it for yourself. the young one will learn, she will learn it the hard way. i hope when she falls, and fucks up, i'm there to be "greatly, inappropriately, lovely, amusing".

small moments

some days are better than others. i've said this before. today is another day to smile. no particular reason other than just to be grateful. happy birthday to a dear friend that i am grateful for, and cheers to her to many happy years more.

dedicated to my funny friend AVS

part 2 of wedding weekend actually happened after the wedding was over. now, i'm a fat kid at heart, in reality, whatever and i love food. my week revolves around when and where my next meal is coming from.  i don't work out for any other reason than to be able to eat. with that being said...

June, her husband Mike, myself and RB decided since we needed to spend only one night in the hotel that Jan got married in, we would just split the cost of a room. it made sense. so Mike booked the room. obviously we were at a friends wedding and drank, Mike and June a little more than RB and myself, so when we arrived at our room we changed our jammies and headed to bed.

as much as i want to get into it we had a lot of laughs simply taking our hair out. June and i had so much hairspray and hairpins in our god awful hairstyles- please, these hairstyles were TERRIBLE- fucking horrible comes to mind. June's was by far worse than mine. when it was all out, we almost peed ourselves laughing. Mike and RB decided to wear the robes provided by the hotel. they both looked ridiculous because they were too small, and the boys left on their black dress socks, making them look even more ridiculous. while all of this was happening RB was suffering from shortness of breath and asthma attacks. i kept telling him to relax he was crazy.

we all became hungry but we are in Maine- what's open? DOMINOES! CHEEZY-BREAD! and PIZZA!! we called and asked for delivery. while lying in bed watching t.v., June began chanting, "cheez-y bread, cheez-y bread!" she became psychotic. the cheezy bread chant lasted a long time, and at one point became unrecognizable, it was just slurred words within laughter. we were seriously starved. we realized that over the craziness of the last few days we barely ate, and with the drinking we became so hungry that the sound of delivery crappy pizza and bread with fake cheese was mouth watering. we couldn't take it. the delivery was taking sooo long.

finally it arrived. we were so relieved and happy. we scoffed down an entire pizza pie, and 2 orders of cheezy-bread. RB continued to have asthma attacks, and chest pains.

the next morning after breakfast, a few bows at the porcelain gods, RB and Mike went to check out of the hotel. turns out, Mike booked us in an animal, (pets, dogs and cats), friendly part of the hotel, which explains RB's asthma attacks, chest pains and difficulty breathing. Mike still feels bad about it, but how was he supposed to know that RB is deathly allergic?

to this day we laugh about the cheezy bread incident, the hair, and of course the bath robes. maybe we are the only ones that find this story hysterical; which is quite possible and totally fine, because i am absolutely positive that every last one of you have a story similar to this one that each and every one of you think is hysterical. the 4 of us will always think this one is hands down awesome; every time i see a dominoes ad, or a cheezy bread commercial i'll always think of June with her crazy hungry eyes, wicked crazy old lady hairspray hair, Mike and RB in a robe.

dedicated to my strong friend JNE

let me preface this story by stating that it is only a two-parter because it took place over the same weekend. it was a strange weekend and looking back at this particular wedding weekend, it still seems surreal.

Jan was set to be married on a fine fall saturday over columbus day weekend. i arrived the thursday before her nuptials to spend some quality bridesmaid time with her. she had been having back pain, back pain she was all to familiar with, back pain that she had to have surgery for a few years back.  it was worry some. she was walking crooked, and insistent that she would be fine, but she was in agony. she would need surgery again as soon as she would return from her honeymoon.

we went to her final fitting. remember how i said she was walking crooked because of the back pain. well, her dress fitting wasn't any better, her dress fit crooked. it was bad. we had lunch and then went for a massage. or maybe we went for the massages before; either way, the day was a mess.

when we woke up the following morning, the eve before her wedding, June and i found out that Jan had been taken to the hospital because she was found curled in a a ball at the bottom of the stairs in her parents home in agonizing pain and tears, unable to move. we were horrified. for months we had been slowly watching our best friends spinal health deteriorate as she insisted she would be fine. it was obvious she wasn't, when she could no longer stand, sit, or walk. what were June and i to do? the only thing we knew how- first things first, out of town family was headed to Jan's parents house for the weekend. Jan's mom was in a frenzied state, as were we, and we all needed to stay calm, there was nothing we could do for Jan in the hospital but there was something we could do about the wedding, and the house.

June and i took charge, as did my husband. June and i cleaned, cleaned, cleaned every room, and thing in sight. we picked up flowers, approved arrangements, and photos. we set up appointments, picked up tuxedos, and demanded that the groom get his shit together or we'd do it for him. as all of this was happening Jan was being prepped for surgery, and June and i refused to look at each other for fear of hysterically crying. my husband got food, made sure everyone ate something, made sure everyone was comfortable, and all the cars had gas.

after the house was spotless, everyone was fed, and all the wedding stuff was picked up and squared away it was time to attend the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner without the bride, the groom, or the father of the bride. we all managed to get through just fine. no one seemed to be all that phased by the 3 missing people other than June, myself, the brother of the bride and the mother of the bride. the brother of the bride said some lovely things about his sister and future brother-in-law at the rehearsal dinner as well as June and i and how the rehearsal dinner wouldn't have gone quite as smoothly without us. we were in a daze throughout the whole thing. to this day we aren't really sure what happened and what didn't happen.

after the rehearsal dinner a group of us girls decided to run over to the hospital and try to catch Jan before surgery and tell her we loved her and would see her tomorrow in her beautiful gown and all was well. we had just missed her, but somehow, my husband and June's husband got the chance to see her, which stings a little but at least one of us saw her.

June, myself and the Maid of Honor made the decision that we couldn't be alone and had a slumber party. no of us slept, and it wasn't because of RB's snoring. we couldn't stop thinking about the day in front of us. most brides are awake the night before their wedding thinking about if it rains, or if someone drinks to much, or if someone is late. Jan was in a hospital having surgery; sure she was fully medicated not feeling a thing, getting the best nights sleep she had had in months, but we were still concerned.

on saturday morning June and I and the MOH went upstairs bright and early for some coffee. as we walk into the kitchen, Jan strolled in through the garage door, standing straight with a big grin on her face! we all began jumping up and down and wanted to hug her so hard. knowing we couldn't we grabbed each other and  began crying- she clapped and cried off to the side. it couldn't have been more surreal to see her there. it was like it never happened. we got ready and headed over to the hotel for the ceremony.

Jan walked straight and upright down the aisle on her fathers' arm and got married to her long time boyfriend. i was attacked by mosquitoes on the beach while taking pictures, but it was a small price to pay for my friends happiness on her wedding day.

Jan and Brad had to postpone their honeymoon because of the surgery, but lucky for me and RB they came on ours! we had a great time.

on June's wedding day it rained, and another girl wore white, but it was lovely. the week of my wedding it snowed but it ended up being 65 degrees the day we got married, and then a few weeks, then months later RB's family members began passing away, we would trade our 65 degrees, and good photos for RB's dad to still be with us today. Jan was told that she needed to have surgery in order to be able to walk down the aisle at her wedding otherwise she'd have to do it in a wheel chair. we all have our little wedding quirks; but every time i hear a bride start to complain about what could go wrong the day or week of her wedding, i tell her about Jan, and they immediately breathe deep and realize that things could always be worse; maybe Jan didn't need us, but we needed her, we are all strong and can get through anything; especially if we have each other.

bad ideas

in my opinion, none of this is pure fact, it's simply my OPINION. this may or may not have happened to me directly or indirectly. this might also be here say; rumor, if you will. i'm not judging, i'm just saying, in my OPINION, the following could be considered bad, poor choices/ideas.

• drinking miralax WITH dinner instead waiting until after dinner because you think it might save time
• turning a 5K into a 6K
• signing up for a 4 mile race because your friends are all into it and then you end up being the only one doing it at 8:30am on a sunday morning
• not working out after having 2 breakfasts, a grilled cheese with bacon and tomato sandwich, smothered in butter with tater-tots for dinner 
• walking to check on traffic inevitably urinating on yourself whilst driving to massachusetts 
• knowing for a fact that cheese, specifically soft, spreadable cheeses do not sit well or at all with you, yet you continue to eat them
• passing gas because your stomach hurt so badly; only to find out later that you did a little more damage than pass a little gas
• driving to boston to fly to LA hang out with friends; fly to vegas, hang out with friends; fly back to LA hang out with friends, drink and party for the 4 nights that you are doing all of this flying and hanging out without sleeping, vomit in a strangers back yard, have stranger drive you home; fly back to boston to drive 3 hours home on easter morning for easter sunday dinner surviving on diet coke, ginger ale, peanuts, pretzels, 4 red bulls and the 5 hour plane ride all because the flights saved you $250 
• driving home from maine at 1 am because you felt like it. 
• driving to harrison's for a roast beef sandwich at 10pm from wheaton- about an hour on a random tuesday
• getting pregnant- totally kidding. (for some, i've met some people in this life that shouldn't have or never should in the future consider procreation)
• a 5-some. thats right, not a 3-some, a 5-some. yuk
• sharing underwear
• sharing a toothbrush
• tattoos that have no meaning, then getting fat 
• buying those shoes, pants, shirt, and swearing you'll wear it, you'll loose the weight to wear it, it'll make you work out so you will look great in it one day- YARD SALE
• being in a wedding party when in reality you want no part of it
• getting married because you thought it was about that time, because that's what you do, because you were "that" age
• being anyone other than who you are because you thought it would help you make friends, keep friends, be something you thought you were supposed to be, should be, when in reality, none of that matters, because when you aren't you, those things and people aren't what you need they aren't meant for you just like you aren't meant for them

in my opinion there are plenty of more bad ideas to be had. there are plenty of more bad ideas that haven't been mentioned. i can't wait to hear, be apart of, see them unfold, live them, laugh at them, as all the bad ideas keep happening. ha, ha, ha, keep laughing, don't stop the laughter; it's the sweetest sound. 

make plans?

crap. i'm so tired. i have so many little thoughts running around in my head, which coincidentally has given me a headache today. i've managed to gain 6 pounds in the last 5 days- how does that even happen. irrelevant.

reasons why, personally, i don't make plans. it rains, it hails, a freak tornado hits. months ago i decided i would register for a measly little 4 mile run, now, lets be perfectly honest here and say that i don't actually run, it's what we call a wog- part walk, part jog. last week while "training" and apparently gaining 6 pounds, i pulled my groin muscle. most people wouldn't think this to be such a big deal and it really isn't, except for all the times prior to this small little occasion leading up to this pulled groin muscle.

now, i could sit here and bore you with a monotonous listing of plans made that get fucked up by something dumb, like last month i was supposed to go to 6 flags with my cousins and some friends and all week its in the 60's except the day we decide to go it fucking snows. or, the time my husband decided that after a real rough first year of marriage, planned a surprise trip to the bahamas and it's the coldest march they had on record in 60 years. anyway, i've got plenty of those kinda things, random things, things that when i tell people they say, "no way, what are the chances", well folks, ME, i'm the chances. you know when you go to the dentist and they have to pull some teeth and they give you some random percentage of something happening, i AM that random percentage. this is NOT a complaint. i repeat, this is NOT a complaint. without all this random planning collapse, i wouldn't have these amazing tidbits of fun for you to enjoy.

so, my friends decide that they are going to do a small 5K at the end of the summer in their home town to which i was visiting and invited me to do it with them. of course i say "sure thing", it's a 5K. my friends are nervous about this home town 5K because it takes place in their town, on their high school campus, (us NYC kids don't have "campus's", mind you), their old track coach is in charge of the race, so this is a big to-do for them. i'm not all that concerned or worried, i'm looking at it as another workout. race day is here and everyone is ready to go, an entire fleet of people, i tell them it shouldn't take me longer than 40 minutes even if i WALK the entire thing. "ok" they say, "no problem" they say. then the rain comes; i told you, plans with me involved not smart, start time is now pushed maybe 45 minutes.

fast forward 45 minutes....

yahoo! we start. it's getting a little dark but not to worry it's only a 5K. remember how i said it was a small 5K- that's important to remember because as i am finishing my first mile, by myself, and the teenage volunteers are barely waiting for me, i'm realizing there are no signs pointing me in the direction that the race is supposed to go. this is not my home town. there are about 80 people in this race and 79 of them are in front of me, and 79 of them are from this town. oh, and it's getting dark, and i wear glasses, which i have to keep on while wogging to see where the hell i am because there are no people and no signs. luckily we are in a residential neighborhood and i have on my trusty nike+ thingy that measures how far you've traveled.

i've gone 1 1/2 miles, halfway done, but yet, no clue as to where i am, and no one in sight. so i stroll up someone's driveway, "excuse me, hi, how are you? sorry to bother you but can you tell me which way the race is?", "um, yeah, blah, blah, blah". "ok, great, thanks, have a great night!" and i keep it moving. i'm thinking "tattoo asshole across my forehead now!".

mile 2 down and i hit a fork and i have to ask directions again, same question, same response. finally i make it to the main road and i'm jumping for joy on the inside because i know where i am at this point. i meet an old man at the top of this hill and he's working the "race" and he's cheering me on, and i have this urge to punch him because he has no idea how angry i am at this point that i had to ask for directions, but it figures right,  i mean, i am me. i'm so close to the finish and making great time, he tells me to follow the road to the end and i'll be to the finish. i high five the old man, and book it.

follow the road my ass- get to the bottom of the hill it splits in three, i choose wrong every time and have to go back up each time, finally when i choose correctly, i see the finish but i am so annoyed, i am ready to run across the field and say "fuck it", but i don't and i keep going. i make my way around this campus, and school and parking lot. when i get to the bottom there are 3 or 4 teenage girls who look at me, look at the number strapped to my chest and say with an attitude that warranted a slap, "are you still racing?!", my reply, "if you had some fucking people working, or some fucking signs, as to where the finish was i might have been done already!" i could tell my language shocked them, and i was ready to lunge at them when i saw a friend of a friend who pointed me in the direction in which i needed to go.

as i made my way the remaining 3/10ths of a mile, my bestie came walking up towards me, i looked at the time, it had been 48 minutes already, i had traveled 6K, and i hadn't even finished yet! she was smiling and i was not. i was seething, i wanted to do well, i wanted to finish close to my friends, i wanted to punch those girls and the old man. i began to cry out of anger, i began to laugh because it was ridiculous and hilarious.

as i approach the finish line all these people, who are not my friends, do that terrible death clap, you know the one that starts out slow and goes faster, like i'm some kinda dummy who can't do a 5K. i almost lost my shit. the people in charge of the race started cheering as i was going to finish... ha ha ha ha... i cut my nose off to spite my face. i walked so slow, like i was in a marching band across that finish line, and as i did so, i said perhaps next time, you will put people or a SIGN on the road telling you which way to go for us out of TOWNERS!

needless to say, i was annoyed. i'm still annoyed. but i'm more annoyed that i couldn't run it to keep up with everyone, but not. nope, i'm more annoyed that you can have a race and not bother to take the time to read where people are from and realize you need a fucking sign with an arrow that says "that way" or "this way".

i should get extra credit. my race was longer. i will do it again. i hope i finish dead last. but, i hope i don't get lost next time.

as for this sunday's measly little 4 mile race. there will be signs. it's in central park. although, maybe i shouldn't speak too soon, i've already pulled my groin, who knows what the plan god's will have in store for me this time around. hopefully it'll be funny and make me and everyone else laugh.

examining the past

untitled

empty, but yet full of life
nothing left to be discovered
but nothing known
where am i?
in a dream? or
awake as the bright blue sky?
i wander in search of something that i don't even know if it exists
or not
but what am i looking for?
love, intelligence, companionship
alone time or just myself?
looking in a mirror is like looking at a blank space
or a poorly lighted hallway
no doors to escape to,
not knowing where it leads, just space
hollow, and poorly lit
it's evil, life, you know
we walk around not ever really knowing anything
but living out thoughts, impressions and choices
i am a free spirit!
but free to do what?

this was written almost 12 years ago if not 12 years ago exactly. i was about 18 years old. i found it in a published college poetry "zine" in my room. when i read it it brought back every memory and feeling that made me write it. i understood and re-identified with the 18-year freshman girl who wrote it. i feel exactly the same way that she did every time i read it. i can't escape it.

you think that when you grow up, so much of you changes, and it does, but so much of you doesn't change at all. everything that this 18 year-old college freshman was writing about, whether you understand it, you relate to it, or not, i do, i feel it, i still, at 30, am this way. who knew that it would be so. i do know that the 18 year-old version of me thought for sure that the 30 year-old me would have a better understanding, or at least most of what the 18 year-old was referring to figured out, and in reality, i have to let the 18 year-old down and let her know, i don't. the truth is, the 18 year-old version of me isn't disappointed at all. she's relieved. she's relieved to know that it doesn't get any easier, or better, or more understood. nothing gets figured out, it only gets more complicated. it all gets more and more complicated. it's a relief to me that it does. it's a warped sense of thinking, but at least that's the consistent thing in this realm of mine.

there are few things i can count on; complications are one of them, and it's a relief to know, in a weird way that a complication will arise, i will have faith that i will make it through, i will learn from it, and i may or may not have figured something out. what's the point in worrying all the time? that just seems like time wasted on things that are out of my control, things that i can't change, things that hopefully i can learn from, laugh about later. this written work was a product of an 18 year-old who hoped she'd have something figured out, little did she know, that she was better off by having nothing figured out, she was freer than having something figured out... so stop worrying, have faith and breathe.

intro to lists

i suffer from migraines. thanks to a genetic make up, i, like other members of my family suffer from migraines and stomach issues. i love genetics, its one of my favorite parts of science. i find genetics an amazing, but self explanatory and simple form of science. you have the genetic dna of your family, the good and the bad. in this case i'm referring to the bad. migraines.

migraines are not fun. seriously. i've had some of the nicest (and shittiest) people say, "i get a lot of headaches too, i know how you feel," not quite. it started with sinus headaches, that would eventually turn into migraines. so i went to an ent, (ear nose and throat specialist), apparently there were issues in the ent area, so i had surgery. nope, not a fix for the migraines, they had no warning sign anymore. you fixed the sinus' which was my warning sign, and the migraine's came with a vengeance. i was forced to go to a neurologist. eek- sounds scary. not so much. a doctor is a doctor, i'd rather go to a specialist than a gp and i love my gp, my gp is brilliant, forgetful, fun loving, sweet, and brilliant. but, i'd rather go for a specific issue to a specific specialist. wouldn't want my dentist checking out my cervix at my yearly gynecological exam. weird.

neurology- now that's a science! the brain is an amazing organ. i find the functionality of the brain to be fascinating. always have, more so when i started working with special needs students. i digress, as usual. anyway, i went, she was and is great. scan, after scan, nothing seriously wrong with me, nothing that is causing my migraines other than good old fashioned genetics. neurologists and headaches though are kinda of annoying doctors appointments, you get homework. you can't just get a script and be out, you have to keep a journal. i now need to journal not just when i get a headache, but what time of day, the weather, what i ate, my cycle, where i slept, how much i drank, my stress for the day, exercise and so on. it's a lot. but i also get a prescription for migraine medication to take as soon as i feel a migraine coming on.

i do my homework and take my pills which work like a charm, except- i need to sleep when i take it, because it makes me dizzy, and violently nauseous. prescription 2, makes my face go numb, and also makes me dizzy and nauseous, and i can't seem to fall asleep after taking it. prescription 3, winner, winner! thank goodness, but she breaks the news to me.... no no, don't cry for me, i'm not dying or nothing, i mean, we're all dying, but there's still nothing on the scans causing the headaches relax yourselves. she says that due to the severity of the headaches, and the frequency she recommends something to take daily that will help ward off the migraine, but i'll still get them, hopefully not as much though. <YAY! let's all stand and cheer!> why didn't she think of this sooner?! here's why. the medication they provide patients who suffer from extreme migraines is one of two types; anti-seizure or anti-depressants. you're thinking, not a big deal, however, have you read the side effects on both of these types of drugs? haha. they could be a comedians bit for cryin' out loud.

i think and discuss with my husband and mom, and decide to go for it. why not. anti-seizure meds, here i come. honestly, what are the chances that the side-effects actually happen...

side effects include: a tin taste to carbonated beverages. not a problem for me, the only carbonated thing i drink is beer. tingling in the fingers and toes, you know like the pins and needles feeling when you lay on one side for too long. those two are the most common side effects. i'm good on both of those. the most serious of side effects, glaucoma- so my doctor says if i start to have trouble seeing, stop taking the meds, and call her immediately. ok. i'm good (so far, knock on wood).

one side effect is seizures. this is my favorite. an anti-seizure medications' side effect is seizures? really? hahah. awesome. it didn't happen at first, but every now and again, late at night, i have small tremors in my hands. these tremors fall under the seizure category. awesome, you had to see me at a recent concert standing there trying to enjoy some music and not have everyone around me notice that my hand looked liked it was dancing to it's own beat.

but, the cream of the crop side effect is... drum roll please... word recall difficulty. awesome. we are all getting older. we have word recall difficulty as it is. we are adults (in age, certainly not in maturity on my end), we try to remember and do tons of things everyday. i am no exception to this. i used to make lists for everything. now, with this medication, i make lists for my lists. RB says that my word recall doesn't seem to be any worse, but my colleagues at work have noticed a definite um, um, lack of sharpness that i might have had before. now, it might be age, it might be the meds, it might be both, it might be psychosomatic, either way, it makes for some interesting days and conversation.

i don't get headaches as often anymore, but when i do not have words to describe them, if a staple gun, screw driver and an axe got together and had a party in my head, i think it would be a better option than my actual headaches. no two headaches are alike, that's for sure.

insignificant people.

it has been mentioned recently to me that i care about insignificant people. let it be known that that statement is in fact not necessarily all true. there is a perfectly good rationale here. it may not make sense to you now, however it may make sense to you after this.

my husband and i were at a party one evening, and a young man who is friendly with the host of the party was explaining to my husband why he should attend an event. my husband, we'll call him RB, didn't want to attend this event, but i was intrigued by the event- it was for a good cause. while i was listening to the reasoning as to why RB should attend the event i was devising a way that i could talk him into going until... until the young man said this...

"one of the prizes is a <brand name> handbag. which, if you win it, should keep you getting laid by this one (pointing at me as if i were some door prize), for at least a month!"

RB said nothing. but looked at me knowing i was fuming with anger. i wanted to pummel the asshole for gesturing towards me as though i could somehow be bought by some measly piece of brand name material, or as if i was some kind of brand name whore, that all my husband needed to do to get me to sleep with him would be to have him provide me with some name brand item. it is astounding to me that men or people in general think that women are some stupid and pitiful creature. so much so, that we can be bought. to be perfectly honest i can be bought, but not by some measly brand name bag- how about something worth while, a month's, all expense paid vacation to hawaii, italy, greece or a house. not some bag, or a pair of shoes for cryin' out loud. not a fuckin' item that if i wanted to get myself i could just go to the store and buy myself you shit for brains.

anyway. i was slightly aggravated with RB for not saying anything to the young man along the lines of; "hey man, that's my wife, not some cheap tramp". however, i have always been known to speak up for myself on these type of occasions. i bit my tongue because of the young mans relationship to someone important to my husband. so out of respect i made a small, "watch it" comment, walked away still fuming, and didn't bother talking RB into going to the event.

later, RB asked why i still seemed so annoyed. he stated that he didn't understand, "why do you let people who don't matter bother you so much?" this particular question has been a particular problem for me since i was a teenager however, i have been able to overcome most of its most crippling effects.

i used to simply bite my tongue regardless of the person. now, there's a measurement of importance; a level of significance if you will, for which a response is given and chosen for each person. this is a lot of work, but it's better than biting my tongue and it's far better than telling everyone that they are being an asshole. (you see, unlike my mom or RB, i come off nasty, my point often doesn't get through or across well because of my attitude, where as, RB and mom, who might be saying the exact same thing, it's how they say it, that penetrates easier), so, if you truly don't matter, depending on the level of offense i either ignore you, or tell you that you are an outright asshole, if you matter somewhat to me, i try my best to be honest without being rude, if you are important to someone important to me, i try to tell the person important to me that you have done something shitty and hope that they take care of it, if not, i ask if i can take care of it.

it's a lot of different levels, and at this current age and stage in life everyone is different as is every reaction. sometimes, i'm not "permitted" to have my kind of reaction, when that happens, man oh, man does that make me angry. the only person i have ever met that is similar to me in this regard is *June. when i told her this story, she shook her head the entire time, she knew what i was saying before i said it, she knew what i meant even when i didn't, she understood my anger, my frustration and where all of it came from. even you now, do you get it? does any of this make sense? do you have any idea of what the hell i am describing? imagine not being able to react to something the way your heart and emotions are telling you to. 



with all this said, you're going to have to deal with insignificant people in your life. the people you love, are gonna want to associate with other people who are gonna wanna associate with insignificant people and you're gonna have to pretend to give a shit about them. i just can't guarantee that i'll always be able to have a reaction that's "appropriate" or up to your level of approval.

lastly, if you think, ever, that i'm some name brand whore that can be bought, or that my husband needs to buy my love, or sex, you've met the wrong woman. the next time that young man or anyone passes a comment along those lines, i promise all of you and myself, i won't be so polite as to bite my tongue.

hopping fences & taking names

sometimes you think you are too old to do stuff and then you remember that you are never too old to do anything. thats why i love the age that i am at. i have finally found a groove, i have found the people in my life that i can do things with that i want to do things with. each person in my life have a purpose. each person in my past had their purpose. and each purpose in my future will have a purpose there too.

friday my husband and i had no intention of doing much of anything except lay around and watch tv. then a friend from work text me and invited us over for a quiet evening of "getting to know each other better". we have been friendly at work for some time but never super close, but i have to admit, i've always thought there was a connection between 'big red' and myself. she and her husband are newlyweds, and super cute ones at that. she's eager to have people over like so many newlyweds are; be the hostess with the mostess, act as though we are officially adults with couple friends, etc. we accepted with pleasure because my husband and her husband have met before and hit it off nicely, and as i said previously, we would like "to get to know each other better".

we had some dinner, and some wine and beer, and i had every intention of behaving myself. i'm sure big red did as well. but you know how that could be. you are at an age now where you just don't give a shit. you decide that people are either going to like you for the way you are, or not. so we let it fly. the language, the jokes, the inappropriate commentary. it was wonderful, and comfortable. we got rip, roaring drunk. the guys played video games, and of course were the more "responsible" 2 of the 4 of us, (why am i not surprised).

around 12:30am big red and i decided we needed some snacks. so we ventured out in the 40 degree weather and took a walk to the nearest gas station, she in sweats and flip flops, me in heavy steel-toe shoes. (god those damn shoes are heavy). here is where we show our ages. we are both so obviously drunk and i spot a cop car circling the neighborhood; i tell her we need to keep our voices down, so the two dummies that we are begin to try to walk more normal, which everyone knows, when you're drunk and you try to be "more normal" the opposite happens, you look more wasted. then we spot a fence. big red looks at me and says, "shit! a fence", i respond with, "i'm not hopping a fuckin' fence, dude, you have flops on, i've got steel-toe shoes on and then getting arrested for public intoxication and hopping a fence!"-- might i remind you, that i am 30 years old and big red is 28. it's almost an embarrassment. the cops are still circling. i decide being the elder more "mature" one to turn my head, i spot an obvious opening in the fence, the opening was a driveway. <laugh this is funny> .

finally, we arrive at the gas station, it seemed to take forever, and we are freezing. low and behold, i go to grab hold of the door handle and there is a kind man holding the door open for me and my drunk friend... a very tall man, handsome, dressed all in blue, NYPD written on his badge, "SHIT!" i think in my head, but instead, "Thank you, officer" comes out of my mouth. he smiles, says, "you're welcome", then looks at big red, who's got an ear to ear smile on her face. the cop chuckles, i'm sure he knows we are wasted, but it's obvious we aren't teenagers, and walks away.

on our way back, we find the driveway, no hopping of the fence, it seems to take forever, we trip a few times, find two cop cars this time, push past some girl on the stairway and make it back alive, no cuts, no arrests, and laughing hysterically. the husbands barely even noticed we were gone. i'm thinking that the boys hit it off, big red and i get along splendidly, and will enjoy plenty of interesting nights were we will be hopping fences and taking names.

sometimes, it's more fun being 25+ than it ever was being under 25. just because i'm married doesn't mean i don't know how to have fun anymore. just because i'm over 25 doesn't mean i can't act like an asshole anymore either, i just have a better taste in people and in booze. (i still hope my mom thinks the best of me).

playing dress up at 30

in an attempt to find a decent halloween costume i played my favorite game, dress up! this game dates back to all the times that i have gone shopping with my mom, and continue to do so. the game entails trying on a ton of clothes for a good laugh and go home with nothing or going home with something you didn't expect to actually look good at all. in this case however, we weren't in a store instead we were home trying to, like i said, find me a decent halloween costume.

lucky for me, my dad works on a job where he can bring me home some costume items. he was able to bring me home multiple clothing items, a wig, and masks. i managed to get on my size 8 prom dress, put on that blond wig dad brought home and prance around the house with a masquerade mask on, pretending that i was something at a ball or gala. it was glorious and fun- but not comfortable and not something i could wear to work all day. next was an extremely short 1960's style Goldie Hawn "Laugh-in" go-go dress. so much color, i didn't dare wear it downstairs with my rear-end hanging out of the back of it, but man, it was fun. the boots were pretty fabulous too, but thick calves didn't allow for zipping so the look was pretty much out anyway. but i danced around my teenage room with my ass hanging out of the bottom of this "laugh-in" dress for a minute or two before my next costume change.  next came, this suit that resembled something that mr. furley might wear on "three's company" it was too small- but i pranced around my room for a while thinking of what i could do with that ridiculous looking thing as well. then came another outfit that didn't really fit, but i went for it anyway.

mom wore this dress on her 1976 honeymoon, a wrap dress, and she had these brown sandals that i had been hoarding in my room for years. i added the blond wig and a beret and headed downstairs to show off my best Chrissy impression from "three's company". "come and knock on our door, we've been waiting for you..." i sang. my parents and husband laughed hysterically at how ridiculous i looked, and my mom couldn't believe that i had these clothes. it was so much fun, we were all doubled over with laughter. then came tight clothes, a ridiculous belt, blond wig, bamboo earrings, bright red patent leather shoes, i called myself the temp. i looked absurd and white trashy to the extreme.

all in all, i ended up going to work on monday as a colleague. she was floored by my dead on impression of her, including her walk. everyone had a good laugh and i was very comfortable in my sweat pants and blond wig.

masquerade ball

go-go boots

i truly love playing dress up. i love putting on a show. i always wanted to be an actor. i just didn't want to be a working actor. i didn't want to wait tables, or go on auditions, it seemed like a lot of work that i wasn't willing to do. besides, i still get to play dress up with my mom, which is the best job i've ever had.

one of those days

i almost peed myself today and it wasn't because i was on i84 in traffic again. no, not today. some days are better than others and some days my students say something that make me almost wet myself with laughter. today was one of those days.

me: "you know, you're going to eventually have to learn how to type with 10 fingers."
student, with the most serious expression on his face: "now ms. b, how am i gonna do that with one hand?"

i do teach special needs but not handicapped. he has 2 fully functioning hands. he was just typing with one. he had me and my paraprofessional rolling. he thought he was in trouble. i told him of course not, he made my day and that's why i love him.

when you're 30 &...

when you are 30, and married for a while, or hell, when you are 30, and dating, shit, it starts well before that. people just feel the need to intrude on your personal life. they ask ridiculous questions they shouldn't be. if it's family we excuse it as a culture usually because we assume it is coming from a caring, heartfelt place. some families though, its just coming from a sense of entitlement, nosey fuckers. (i smell by the way, running on the treadmill produces the foulest of smells from people including myself- yuk). i digress, so as a woman, it starts for a lot of us around the time we graduate college, maybe before that. for me, it wasn't ever like that.

my immediate family never questioned nor rushed me in anyway to grow up, move out, get married or procreate. the only request anyone ever had of me was to be happy and to "do the right thing". i guess i was in my mid-twenties when my extended family began the intrusion- "when are you getting married?, when are you moving out of your parents house?"- i wasn't used to the questions and i was still young so i'd politely answer, "i don't know". i thought the questioning would stop. i was wrong. i'd still answer as politely as i humanly could. if you know me at all, it takes a lot for me to be polite when i feel like it's truly none of your business. then finally i got engaged. i thought, "sweet, mystery of life at last, everyone will leave me alone!" wrong, again! it got worse. now, it wasn't just my extended family. it now became some of my in-laws, and co-workers, and some of my in-laws friends! who are you people?! and why the fuck should you have any say on what, when, where, how and who i do anything, anywhere, etc! oh goodness it was irritatingly frustrating. still, i continued to be as polite, and answer as best and as much as i could, especially when it came to my in-laws. this obviously continued, as it does for many people. i know for a FACT i am not alone.

i'm not going to get into the last 3 years of my life for you because that would be too much, if you know me personally, you already know- but i would first like to say: that whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, second: everything i've been through, i'm happy to have gone through it, it all pretty much sucked at the time and i'll continue to 'go through' it, but without it i wouldn't be me, everything happens for a reason, even if it doesn't make sense now, it will work out and make sense one day, third: don't judge others because you don't know what goes on behind closed doors, fourth: mind your own house, stay the hell out of mine- meaning- mind your own business...

so here i am, married almost 3 years, and 30, living in an apartment, cozy. like a cannon, the questions are a firing... (i don't find it necessary to list the questions, i'm sure you can all imagine them, if you haven't already heard them all yourself)... i've decided that at 30, i'm OFFICIALLY an adult. I've held a salaried position for 9 years, i have multiple degrees, i take care of a home, i have a family, even if it's just we two, i no longer need to be that polite little girl who answers everyones questions that i used to be regardless of who you are. i began thinking of a variety of ways to get around not answering. first in a polite way, then finally when they wouldn't get it, in an all out nasty way. i'm a nasty person, if you didn't know, so i've been told. i tried, tried, and tried again. "i'm barren", "we're not ready", "now's not the time", "not interested", "you keep having them, so i don't have to", "trying to loose weight, don't feel like gaining weight...", "i'm enjoying all my friends kids", "no, i'm good, really, i'm all set, my students are a natural form of birth control". then, it happened. i figured it out. fuck it. i don't need to be nasty. i can be honest. i can say to people, it was none of their business, mind their own house.

i don't need to dance around the reality of any of it. who are you to tell me when i should buy a house? get a new job? have a fucking kid? loose weight? gain weight? love my husband more? stay out of the sun? go into the sun? get some more sleep? get less sleep? who are you to ask me if i am pregnant? if i am pregnant again? still pregnant? when will i get pregnant again? mind your house, stay the fuck out of mine. when i want you to know something, believe me bitches, you'll know. if i want you to know something, i'll tell you. when i am ready, i'll let you in, until then, stay out. don't ask.

below you will find some of my favorite responses i've been giving people to the ever pressing baby question. enjoy and laugh along with me. remember, mind your own house.

person 1, holding a 2 month old: "so when will you have one of these?"

me, knowing this person hasn't gone out in a while:, "oh, yeah, i'm really enjoying this glass of wine here, can't enjoy this pregnant. when was the last time you had a night with just you and your husband and a bottle of wine, or hell a night alone?"

person 2:, "so, when will you get started on having a baby?"

me, big smile: "hey now; what kinda foreplay do you prefer?"

person 3:, <ahem> "been married a long time. don't you think it's about that time?"

me:,   "about what time? to break forth the rhythm and the rhyme?"

person 4:, "when will you have a baby?"

me:, "not sure. if i were a seer, i certainly wouldn't waste my talents on figuring that crap out, i'd try to win the lotto instead."

person 5:, "why don't you have a baby?"

me:, "probably better that i don't, i really enjoy drinking a variety of alcoholic beverages, heard thats not cool for a fetus and such."

now, maybe all these responses aren't the best way to be truthful, and honest but everyone leaves me the hell alone after i give these answers. they work like a charm at shutting people up. they make people uncomfortable, then i'm left alone, smiling. 

story time

some of you may know this already and some of you may not. either way putting this story in writing just seems like a must. here goes.

i left at 12:40pm and began the 214 mile trip to swampscott, massachusetts, which should only take a maximum of 3 1/2 - 4 hours, leaving me to arrive in reality no later than, say, 4:40 the latest. here i am, on i84, 20 car lengths from a tractor trailer engulfed in flames at 2:40pm, approximately 10-15 miles from i90, i was well on my way to an arrival time of 4pm when this happened. don't get me wrong, i'm glad i missed the accident, who knows, i could be dead, i could have been engulfed in flames, i could have been burning myself. the time now, 3:40 and i, small bladder girl has been sitting in park for an hour and listening to music enjoying the sunny september new england weather when i have to urinate. i of course am no where near a facility to allow such a thing to occur, but everyone is coming out of the woods on i84. i decide, 'hey, when nature calls, right?' so, i grab some wet naps, lock my car and head up a steep hill into the woods. struggling to make my way, i step... oh wait, i have left out some key details here, 1. i can't squat to urinate, i mean i can physically squat, however, i need to squat, hold on to something and lean back (do the rockaway), 2. it had rained (heavily), the previous night along the eastern seaboard... so, i step into an ankle deep puddle of mud. now, anyone who knows me, knows this doesn't bother me, the mud isn't bothering me, i'm a 'dirty hippie' as my husband so sweetly refers to me as, its natural, normal, it smells a little, but it's mud, so who cares. i lift my foot out, almost loosing my shoe in this puddle, and find a place to step that isn't a puddle, i do this successfully this time. i now step with my left foot... into an ankle deep puddle of mud. i am still okay with this. i get this foot and shoe free, and begin to unbutton my pants because i still have to urinate.

please take this moment to pause and picture all of this in your head...

pants are around my muddy ankles, i am squatting as low as i possibly can while holding on to a nearby tree branch and blissfully relieving myself when the state police drive by and begin to announce, "Everyone back into your vehicles! Everyone back into your vehicles!", i've had to go for so long, i can't stop, but my car is parked on i84, i am covered in mud and using nature as my toilet, so i lean forward to get a closer look at the highway in hopes to see if we are moving and two things begin to happen; the first is, i begin to fall, so i inevitably put my hand down to brace myself placing it into a forearm deep puddle of mud and secondly, 'piddle' or slightly begin to pee on my leg and pants. i finish my business and book it down the hill almost taking a digger down the hill onto i84 where everyone is now back in their cars with my pants still unbutton because i am still pulling them up, only to realize that the cops just needed everyone back in their cars to bring more fire trucks onto the highway.

i am now covered in mud, and a little bit of my own urine. i smell. it's 4:15, i should have been in swampscott already, and i am in the exact spot i have been since 2:40pm. the police turn everyone around on the highway and make us all get off an entrance ramp because the fire department cannot put out the tractor trailer. as soon as i get off the exit ramp, everyone scatters, like cockroaches when you turn on the light. i begin to laugh, this is laughable, June always says, 'life is funny, so laugh' and she's right. here i am, middle of bumblefuck connecticut, i decide, plug in the gps and hit 'detour', brilliant! not so much. stupid machine kept re-routing me BACK to the same entrance ramp i just got off of. i take matters into my own hands. i head north. massachusetts is north, and i figure as soon as i get into massachusetts, i'll find my way. time now, 5:10pm. guess what kids, i need to urinate and i look down at my gas gage which is screaming, 'um hello, i'm on E', so, trusty gps, find me a gas station. gps does just that, 1 miles down the road. CLOSED. Laugh, it's funny, all of this is hysterical and if you're not laughing that stop reading. by the grace of everything beautiful in this world and my ability to not be directionally challenged, i manage to find a gas station, shiny, bright and clean just a 1/2 mile away, no thanks to that gps. fill up my 'lucy-tank', use the facilities, and get on the road again. time now, 5:30. sweet mary, i can be in swampscott by 6:30 with any luck!!

...6:20pm, i95 crosses, i90, sun setting, i have to urinate again, (i drink A LOT of water, and gaterade throughout the day people), and i'm in traffic all the way to watertown massachusetts.

..."hi mom",
"where are you?!"
"just got to June's"
"JUST?!"
"yeah thanks for that mom, can i call you tomorrow?"
"ok, say hi for me, goodnight."...

...screen door opens, June's husband stands at the door staring at his dear friend, covered in mud, her own urine, and hands her a beer, just before she even passes through the thresh hold, she's almost halfway through, June, sad faced and tilted head walk over to give me a hug and says to me, "you poor thing, you stink, and smell a little like pee"

arrival time, 7:40pm.
what did i do it for? one of my best friends sons first birthday. i'll always be there, you can bet on that. without me, where would we have these stories?

complaint department.

first things first: hide your children this post may contain some graphic language- I know that it has been said that people who use foul, inappropriate, curse words are just unintelligent people who do not have a wide range in their vernacular, limited vocabulary or a sharp wit to have a quick come back; that statement is a complete an utter falsehood so... fuck them and lets move on.

complaint department
in my experience and opinion (most) anyone who uses the phrase, "now, I'm not one to complain, but...", is in-fact, full of shit. if by prefacing a complaint that you do not complain, you have just given yourself away as a complainer. with that being said everyone is a complainer, and there isn't anything wrong with it. the sweetest, nicest, bestest, (yes asshole, i know that is not a real word), people in the word complain. its natural. it's the perpetual complainers that give complaining a bad wrap, or is it rap? whatever. all I am saying is don't pat yourself on the back too quickly there pal, complain away, rant, throw a hissy-fit, just come back to reality and admit what it was, be done with it and move on.

my own ACTUAL complaints:  
the list for me here is long, but today due to hunger, fatigue, timing and the ability to think straight, I'll do my best to keep it short and get down to the nitty-gritty. I have lived in 2 places; Massachusetts for college- great place to go to college, miss a lot of things about the state, and my besties *Jan and *June (*their names were changed for their own safety) live there and I miss them terribly and of course my home state New York. here lies the complaint. if you are a transplant to any city or state and you don't like it there, get the fuck out! MOVE! GO! no one is making you stay. stop whining about it. if you wish you were elsewhere, your home town/city/state, Europe, Timbuktu, go, leave, flee, be happy elsewhere, just stop bashing that poor city/state you have transplanted yourself to. It is rude to the people who actual like living there. Next, I walk around NYC and I listen to you asshole transplants (and not all transplants are assholes *JD, *MM, *NZ, just to name a few), oh I know who you people are, you all talk like you are from here but you're not. don't introduce yourself to me, and say you are from here and when I ask where you went to HS you say some school in Maryland or wherever the hell you're from, THAT means YOU ARE NOT FROM NYC, DICK. Lastly pertaining to transplants and geography, New York is a State, New York CIty is a City that is made up of 5 Boroughs, the 5 Boroughs consist of Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, & Staten Island NOT just Manhattan shit for brains, so don't look at me you damn transplant, when I say that I am from the city, then say Queens and your cognitively impaired response is, "that's not Manhattan", Queens is the city, dumb ass.

on an unrelated note; Whining. I have noticed a lot of whining recently, and i'm not just referring to the rant I just had above, I mean in general. people are so unhappy and baby like. they whine about everything. there are so many awful things in this world, so many awful things that I have seen and experienced in my short life thus far and I am sure there will only be more.... perhaps at a later date i can explore the whining crisis.

please leave your complaints in the box below.

teach your children well...

...here is the first of what I am sure will be many posts about being a teacher. I am hoping to stay away from discussing my job in detail because it's not appropriate and in all honesty would any of you want to read anything about your children via the internet? didn't think so. with that being said, I have a request; please for the love of everything that is beautiful in this world, teach your children that teachers are people too. we are daughters/sons, parents, grandchildren, grandparents, sisters/brothers, wives/husbands. we have feelings and lives. many of us, who are competent, work extremely hard before, during and after school hours. hell, even while we sleep we are working. we spend money we don't have on your kids, our day doesn't begin when your children come to school and it doesn't end when they leave. SO PLEASE, TEACH THEM, we are not babysitters, we are not their friends, we are not their toilets, or their doormats. (this also includes paraprofessionals). thank you...

first of the first...

who the hell knows who'll read this nonsense and I can't guarantee you'll be interested in what I have to say at any given time, however, with that said the ultimate goal is laughter...  it's always for a laugh.