My Little Slice Of Heaven

Lil Update

Sun, 29 Oct 2006 14:16:02 GMT

Had my 1 year surgiversary/rebirthday last week. I've lost roughly 160 pounds and am holding steady at about 222(ish) down from 384. I updated my userpic too because I did a halloween make up runthrough yesterday and like the way my eyes came out.

Movin' On Up...

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 02:37:36 GMT

Hello there all my peeps...yes, I have peeps dammit!

This is a PSA of sorts. If you check my info page, you'll notice that 2 sites have been added to my syndication list, 'aodwarped' and 'aodholybuckets'.

Warped is the hubby's blog and Holy Buckets is mine. I'm in the process of moving...yes...while there are many features of LJ which I enjoy, I feel that I'm sort of outgrowing the posting part of this site. So hubby has built me a page. I posted the link in an earlier post, http://www.arcofdescent.org/kathysblog, and for those of you who would like to, I would love for you to add my syndication to your own list. I've made a lot of good friends here, mostly through the wls community and I'd like to take you all with me. I'll be coming back here (hopefully) daily to check my friends page to keep up with your posts but I will more than likely not be posting on this journal anymore. So if you'd like, add my other site so we can stay in touch. I'll probably still post to the wls community whenever I have something of interest to share there, but for the most part, all my online posts will be going to HB from now on.

I do hope you'll join me :)

A Year In The Life

Fri, 21 Apr 2006 14:22:05 GMT

Well…a year has come and gone. I did the same thing last year too, where it took me forever to post about it and I didn’t even really finish last year. Even though we’ve been together for almost 8 years now, Monday was mine and hubby’s 1st wedding anniversary. As stated in another post, we started out the day at Denny’s for breakfast, where I fit in the booth :). Actually, we started the day running around trying to get our taxes filed :P but that’s a whole ‘nother issue. We got home from Denny’s and Gary took a nap until 2. Which turned into a nap until about 2:30/quarter to 3 until I threatened to go into the other room, dig out my Skid Row CD and play it until he got up… “I’m awake!”

Aheh.

While he was sleeping, I packed our bag and we were on the road at a little after 3pm. Traffic was horrible and we ended up arriving at the hotel about quarter after 4. On the drive there, I remembered all the things I had forgotten to bring, among them the $20 present from his mom and our digital camera. There were many other things but I don’t remember them now. How fitting :P. I think we went down into the casino on Monday between the time we got there and when Prison Bre- yah, we did because I remember we got burgers to take back up to the room.

I think it’s a testament to how much I like our new apartment (or else just the fact that we stayed in the same room last year), but I wasn’t as excited about the room this year as I was last year. Last year, I didn’t want to leave because the hotel room was so much nicer than our apartment at the time. This year, well this year, I LIKE our apartment that we’re in now. Nice hardwood floors, it’s clean…what’s not to like? The hotel room was still nice, don’t get me wrong, and there was one thing that I got to enjoy about it this year that I didn’t last year which made it better, but overall I was sort of fidgeting by Tuesday night waiting for it to be time to go home. But one thing I still like more than our apartment is the friggin bed. It’s a king (or maybe a California king) and is SO HUGE! We were both in the bed and there was room for at least one more person in there. I said as much and Gary told me not to get any ideas. Spoilsport :P I spent most of Tuesday in the room just sort of hanging out and watching TV. This however did not stop us from blowing through $300 in the course of the 2.something days we were there. Not counting the cost of the room. I guess it’s ok, we still have money in the bank and I had reasoned that $300 was the amount we could “comfortably” lose without putting unnecessary strain on our budget, but it would have been nice to at least break even.

And now…onto the big one…the grand daddy of all milestones (so far) on the road I began travelling in October of last year:

I FIT IN THE MOTHERFUCKING TUB!!!!!! At the same time as my husband tyvm. On Tuesday, I decided I had had enough of losing money so around 3 or so, I bought a slice of cheesecake (no I didn’t eat even half of it over the next day and a half so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been) and headed back up to the room. Gary stayed downstairs to play some video poker and in the elevator up to our room, I decided I would take the opportunity to see if I could take a bath. At least if Gary wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed in front of him if it didn’t work out like I hoped. I put my cheesecake in the fridge, grabbed the bottle of bubble bath out of the suitcase along with my robe, went into the bedroom and started to fill the tub. I’ve never been in a big tub like this and I rarely use bubble bath so I was unsure how much to use. That, and the fact that I wanted to make sure the bubbles lasted if it turned out that I did fit in there made me think I needed half the bottle.

Did I mention it was a whirlpool bath as well?

Holy buckets. Bubbles everywhere.

I got undressed and got in the tub. Gary made mention of this before on his blog and I couldn’t agree more. I hate having to try and get used to new faucets. The hot water hardly came on at all and only got hot if I turned the cold completely off. After the tub got filled up, I turned on the jets…MORE BUBBLES! There was maybe 5 inches or so of water actually in the tub but holy shit were there bubbles. I ended up having to drain the tub and start over. When the water was almost gone (but not the bubbles!), I heard the front door open. I grabbed one of the towels off the side of the tub and threw it across myself and started giggling as Gary walked through the double french doors into the bedroom. He started smiling and asked what I was doing… “…uh…nothin’…?”

I turned the water back on as he sat on the lounge thing next to the bed. Trying to adjust the water temperature again was a futile effort and I just gave up and put it on really hot. I like my bath water really hot anyway so it didn’t matter to me. By the time the tub was about half full, I finally convinced Gary to get in with me (yay!). He started to stick his foot in and withdrew it almost immediately, saying it was too hot. I turned on just the cold water and started swirling it around so it would mix. After a minute or two he finally got in, but said it was still too hot (big baby :P).

So, that was it…we were both in the tub, at the same time, comfortably…well, almost comfortably. See…in addition to this being very foamy bubble bath, it was also intended to make your skin really soft. Consequently (because I used so much) it made the bottom of the tub REALLY slippery so we spent most of the time in the tub sliding around and unable to stay in one spot. Aheh…it was fun though :P Bubbles ended up on the walls :o

So there ya go…I wasn’t able to take a bath with my husband on our wedding night but I sure as shit was able to on our first anniversary. HELL YAH!

I FIT IN THE MOTHERFUCKING TUB!!

Valley Fair is looking more and more doable all the time :)

Come Together...Right Now...

Thu, 20 Apr 2006 23:17:03 GMT

Originally posted July 19, 2000 on my blogger.com account. That's right...I'm oldskool

It's just past dinnertime, and I'm just sittin' here, watchin t.v.(well not NOW, now I'm typing, silly) and I heard a familiar sound. A sound everyone knows, and everyone at one time or another in their lives has been associated with, be it from the inside or the outside. Coming down the street toward my apartment building I heard, as if on the breeze, a cheery little tinkling tune. And almost immediately after it, the sound of several neighborhood children screeching at the top of their lungs, "ICE CREAM!!! ICE CREAM!! ICE CREAM!!!" over and over again like some sort of idealic tribal chant. And it got me thinking (as so many things do nowadays). When the hell did my life go from that...to this? And where the hell was I? When did the point in my life disappear where just that one, tiny, insignificant sound made everything right in the world? For the one minute or so before I got my ice cream (usually a nutty buddy bar, or one of those multicolored rocket shaped pops) to the 10 minutes or so later when I finished it, life, the world, and everything in it made complete and total sense. If Santa Claus himself had shown up at that exact moment to offer me the one thing I asked for every year, but never received, I would have told him to hold on until I had eaten the last little bit of chocolate at the bottom of the cone, or licked the stick completely clean (whichever it happened to be that day). Maybe if we all ran out the next time the ice cream man drove down our streets, waited in line, and got that wonderful frozen treat...maybe..just maybe, the world would be a happier place...

Just a thought...

I was reading through my husband's blog (www.arcofdescent.org/warped it's not an actually link because, just as in 2000, I'm an HTMLtard. It is definately worth the read though so I suggest you bust out your mad typin' skillz and diddle on over there.) the other day and he posted all his archives to all his old blogs, back to 2000. I was annoyed because I didn't think I still had mine but low and behold, blogger still had me registered and I actually remembered my username and password. Someday I'll figure out how to bring all this shit together. In the meantime, if you're interested (or just want to stab yourself in the head for the pain but don't have a knife handy), the link is http://www.arcofdescent.org/kathysblog/

I'll warn you now before you jump in and smack your head on the bottom of my empty gene pool that I was seriously in need of a good smack upside the head back in the old days. I was a heavy user of virtual places chat and the blog posts from earlier on reflect that in spades. I had to stop reading myself after a dozen or so because it just hurt my head too bad to continue. The archive links work, but I never archived the last little bits of posts, so not all of them show up there. It also has a black background with light blue text which (so I'm told) is a bit hard on the eyes. But gimme a break...this shit is almost 6 years old. Holy fuck.

Anyway, the reason I posted the entry above is because I love moments like that. I had one tonight. Those moments that are triggered by a seemingly insignificant event, sight, sound, smell or whatever and it does all sorts of weird and happy stuff to your brain. On the way home from work tonight, I was sitting on the bus, The Beatles were telling me to Come Together (RIGHT NOW!) and I was staring out the window at the thunder heads off in the distance.

And then I saw a rainbow. It brought an instant smile to my face and I temporarily silenced Mr. Lennon and crew by removing my headphones and lifted my sunglasses off my face to try and get a better look.

I love rainbows. I don't know why. It might have something to do with my ALL TIME! favorite book, "The Rainbow Goblins". For those of you with children (or for those of you like me without children, but still young at heart aww) I highly recommend this book. If you can find it. It is incredible. The illustrations are absolutely wonderful and the story is really sweet. Basically, "Once Upon A Time" the rainbow touched the earth. There were the goblins who would lasso the colors of the rainbow and sort of "milk" it and drink the colors from it. One night, the flowers in this meadow overhear the goblins planning to kill the rainbow and the flowers devise a plan to save the rainbow and kill the goblins. It works and it's so cool!

Anyway, I love rainbows. They are so simple, and so pretty, and make me feel so happy whenever I see them.

I love the internet. I found pictures!! And amazon.com has the book for sale. Seriously...BUY IT!

Now I have to...ok nm...I can't copy it. Here's the link... http://www.amazon.com/gp/reader/0500277591/ref=sib_dp_pt/103-2681701-2579024#reader-page

Wow...that's a big link.

Anyway, just wanted to share my rainbow :)

Time Is On My Side

Mon, 17 Apr 2006 18:54:10 GMT

One year ago today, I was on my way to get married. I’m not sure exactly of times, but I’m pretty sure we were at least getting ready to get in the car (my mom and I) and on our way to Mall Of America’s Chapel Of Love.

What a year it’s been. One year ago today, I was 120 pounds heavier. I was dreaming about what it would be like to have surgery. I was praying that, once I switched to my new husband’s insurance, that I would be approved and able to have it before the end of the year. And I prayed that it would work.

This morning, Gary and I went to Denny’s for breakfast. Although we didn’t go exactly when we planned on it because I was up until 4:30 this morning reading through his old blog archives. He has them all, all the way back to July 2000. It was very surreal reading things that he wrote from that long ago. I’m glad that he had them. When we first got together in 1998, we had a website. Well, he had a website and I squeezed my way into it. We had written pages to each other, and put up a screen capture of our VP “wedding”. It’s long since gone. On the computer that he had when I first moved here, he had all the icq conversations and all the emails that I had sent him saved. But we had to reformat that computer after it died one day and all of that was lost.

It was nice that some parts of our lives together have been saved. He surprised me this morning with a letter he had written me for our anniversary. I’m not going to say what it said, because even though I (obviously) have no problem sharing my personal life with the nameless, faceless 10’s that read this site, this is just for me. I want to keep it just for me. Plus it would probably embarrass him if I posted it and I don’t want to do that.

It was a surprise because I had told him that I didn’t want him to get/give me anything. Earlier this year, he agreed (finally!) to go on a cruise next year and I told him at the time that in exchange for that, I didn’t require any presents this year. And I meant it. But on my birthday he surprised me with flowers and then for him to write me something that was totally unexpected and so sweet. It meant more to me than anything that he could have bought in any store.

We may be “newlyweds”, but we’ve been together now for almost 8 years (7 ½ of those actually living together). Some of that time we spent as strangers, and most of the time we’ve spent loving each other more than either of us had thought possible. I find myself sometimes marveling at what a gift I was given that day in May of ’98 when he was brought into my life.

In about an hour and a half, we’ll be headed out to go and spend our 1st anniversary in the hotel where we spent our honeymoon. We’ll even be in the same room. I cannot wait for this time with him. Yes, we live together (alone) and spend every day together. We work the same shift so (aside from his Friday’s when he’s off and I have to work) we’re always home together. But there is something infinitely more wonderful about getting out of our usual surroundings to have that time really and truly alone together to have nothing to focus on but each other. I cherish those times with him and I hope he feels the same way.

As I mentioned earlier in this ~~already too long~~ post, we went to Denny’s for breakfast. Do we know how to partay or what?? Anyway, we haven’t been out to eat since before my surgery. I wanted to go there because I wanted to test the boundaries of another milestone in my post-op journey. The last time we went there, we had to sit at a table because I had long since outgrown the booths in most restaurants but especially Denny’s. The last time that I sat in a booth there, I left with a huge bruise right on my stomach above my bellybutton from the table because I was too big to really be able to sit there. Since then, I have dreaded going out anywhere for fear that there wouldn’t be a table available.

We walked into the restaurant and waited to be seated. I’ll admit, as the host walked us out to the dining room, I half hoped he’d put us at a table. I wanted to test it, but didn’t want to be upset, especially on this day, if it didn’t work out the way I had hoped. He sat us at a booth and I eyed the space in the seat as I sat down. I expected to at least be touching the table. What actually happened left me completely speechless, but giggling hysterically while I put my hands over my eyes and tried not to start bawling right there in the middle of people eating their grand slams and senior breakfasts.

Not only was I not touching the table, there was enough room that I could cross my arms in front of me in between my body and the table edge. I looked down and could see the seat. I slouched down in the seat like I’ve never been able to do before, at least not in my adult life. I couldn’t stop giggling. I’m still amazed at what has taken place today. A door in my life has been reopened and instead of being disappointed by what was on the other side, I’m enjoying the light that is flooding in because of that opening. There’s more doors in this room that need to be opened, but I think I’ll enjoy the newness and the brightness of this one for awhile.

And the best part was that I got to do this with the man I love, and who loved me enough to marry me 120 pounds ago. I got to share this experience with him and see that he was proud of me and was happy for me and loved me.

Time is indeed on my side and I cannot wait to see what is in store for me tomorrow and all the tomorrows after.

Oh, and p.s. I made my goal of 260 by this date. Go me :)

One Last Kiss Before I Go

Fri, 14 Apr 2006 14:48:58 GMT

I have stayed quiet all night and into this morning. I have not said anything provocative since the last “big” post I made early yesterday afternoon. The obsessive “post counting” of how many times in the interim that I posted about you or your website can and is attributed to me choosing to respond to your inanity here instead of over in your den of iniquity. So basically they are glorified comments. And since you seem to be so fond of counting as a form of obsession, lets take a look at that count, shall we? Yesterday, I made 10 posts on my site about you. You posted 100+ times on your site about me. Obsession…yah…Calvin would be proud.

Last night, my husband decided to respond to you all about what had been going on during the day when he was unable to visit the site while at work. I asked him not to, and we talked about it at great length which is why it took him so long to make that response. And he tried to be nice about it. What he got for his efforts was having his account deleted by “someone” over there. He sent a message to the site’s owner, asking if, since he was having trouble logging in, he had been banned. The response was swift, but altogether unconvincing. I’m paraphrasing here: “Hmmm…not that I know of. Did you try the ‘forgot password’ thing?”

Huh…you know…I may be just a lowly LJ user, but the last time I checked, if you forget your password while trying to log in, your username doesn’t disappear from the database and your user icon doesn’t disappear from your posts. But I could be wrong…I don’t speak binary.

He then tried logging in my account to test a theory and sure enough, my account was deleted as well. So, even though I invited you all to say whatever you wanted to say with the knowledge that nothing would be blocked, filtered, or banned, you chose instead to stay in your little cubby hole and play “Let’s make fun of the fat girl with stupid, uncreative, and ultimately sad fat jokes that my 4 year old told me.” And then, instead of taking your lumps when the criticism started hitting a little too close to home, you banned the accounts. I bet you were the kids who kicked other kids in the shins on the playground when you were little and then took your ball and went home.

You said I “freaked out”, “went off my nut” and some other things that I’m just not interested enough in to find out exactly about after my “satiric review” was posted. (Oh, just as an aside… “satiric”…that doesn’t mean “Half Assed”. Just an FYI) Well, lets look at that for just a second. There were 2 initial posts made by me as a form of response to my “rev…” you know, I’m not even going to use that word anymore because it just doesn’t qualify. Instead I’ll use “peek”. That’s better. Ok…There were 2 initial posts made by me as a form of response to the “peek” at my journal. One was a review of my own. The other was a review of the “peek”. The only difference between what I wrote in those 2 initial posts and what you do every day to countless people was the length of mine. Mine was an actual review.

And hey…it was “satirical”. Get it? It shouldn’t be taken seriously. Get over it.

I posted these “satirical” reviews on my own site. Then, because I knew that if they were seen by a member of Team Bitchslap but were not “advertised” on their site, the response would be that I didn’t have the balls to come and post about it myself. Much in the same manner as Queen B tried to put down someone who made a comment on their own site about the PPGirls template but didn’t bother to inform them that it was there.) So instead, I moseyed on over there and told them that it was there if they felt the need to look. And they did. Never once did I say anything about anything (except to note that the color of the comment box was the same as the border around my page).

That is when the “freaking out” started, and not by me. So tell me this…how is what you are accusing me of doing any different than what you actually did? I mean come on! It was “satirical”. Get over it. It wasn’t to be taken seriously. And the majority of the responses that ensued came yesterday at well over 100 (probably closer to 150) and less than probably 2 were made by me. So who kept it going? You all did. You called me a baby, and said I was obsessed, but out of the 200+ comments that are attached to that “peek” report, how many of them are mine? How many times did you say that I needed to let it go? And how many times after one of those comments did one of you start it up again? Things were dead, or at the very least dying, until annie felt that it needed to be resuscitated because she didn’t have a chance at the feeding frenzy the night before. And because she couldn’t think of anything clever to say that hadn’t already been beaten to death, she pulled out her amazing Twinkie Gun and fired off a creamy-filled shot in my direction. So who kept it going?
I have not said anything since early yesterday afternoon, yet there are about 40 more comments on the page since that time. Who has kept it going?

I was supposedly off my nut and psycho and over the line….but never once did I even try to get personal with anyone. What does the fact that I’m fat have to do with whether or not my blog sucks? I mean seriously…what has that got to do with anything? Does my blog look fatter because I’m fat? (I’m sure the answer to that will be a resounding ‘yes!’ along with another offering of Twinkies). And I have to say to BB’s poor excuse for a human being husband: That was very clever there…using the numbers on the end of my name to do a sort of ‘word play’ and get a fat joke in there. Since you’re known as “Mr. BB”, does that mean that you are lacking a penis? Because any man who is known by his wife’s name obviously has some pecker issues.

See? Now what is the point of getting personal? That is not enjoyable…that is not clever…it just makes you look like a shmuck.

What does whether or not I have to wax my upper lip have to do with whether or not my blog sucks? Does my blog look hairier because you feel that I need to wax my upper lip?

Someone posted at some point since 12:30 last night that they couldn’t believe this was still going on. Um…dear….I haven’t said a word (here or there) since yesterday afternoon. Who is keeping it going??
You cannot handle it when your own drama is dished back out to you. Your “reviews” are “satirical”…I still haven’t gotten an answer to my question about whether or not the good ones should not be taken seriously as well. When someone stands up to you, or disagrees with you, you turn into a pack of wild dogs chewing on a week old carcass. When you run out of things to beat to death about the thing you’re supposed to be talking about, you turn it into a personal assault. Yet I’m the one being childish. You tell someone over and over again to let it go, yet half a dozen of you have managed to send the post count on this one review to over 200. My husband’s posts together with mine are probably less than 20. I’m the one who’s being obsessive. Yet after I stop commenting on your site and bring it over to my own, you continually surf your way over here to read what I’m writing and then go back into hiding to feed off of each other and keep it going. One of you actually managed to find the link to post a comment here but didn’t leave your name. Chicken shit is all that is. If you desire to leave a comment in the future, bring your balls (or your cunt) with you and post your fucking name. Don’t hide behind your anonymity and think you’re being cute and clever.

And the next time you want to tell a fat joke, try to be a little more clever than the kid I hit in the face with my lunchbox in kindergarten for pulling my hair. At least he left a lasting impression.

Oh, and it isn’t my fault if you cannot read or string together a complete set of coherent thoughts you ignorant pansies.

ut2m

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 20:58:10 GMT

Posted by: Avitable

I've never seen someone who's not obsessed be so obsessed.

I could probably stop being "so obsessed" if you all would stop reading/commenting about me. You'll notice that since my last "big" post, I haven't said anything unless you all have said something first.

ut2m

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 20:49:53 GMT

Posted by: annie

Woo-hoo! We rate SEVEN diatribes, I mean posts, (so far.)

I was worth MY OWN post!
Neener!

*does happy dance*

Better watch those *action* things there, annie...one of the bitches doesn't like them...or at least that's what she said in someone's review awhile back. It seems to be a bit rabid over there...you might get a leg bitten off if they decide to turn on you.

ut2m

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 20:34:17 GMT

Posted by: madbull, Esq.

Ahum, I had to stalk... of course. Feedreaders aare nice aren't they.

I am glad she found a new pleasure in life and she doesn't stop amazing her
world. I mean what could be more creative than giving IT2M an own 'mood'
and tag.
But I am glad for her. Her main page looks a lot better already. The only
thing that captured me on her page was what her brain said. Most brainfarts
were 'crappy' and 'empty'. Now it all looks better. IT2M gave her
something to live for... and to post about. I wonder if she hears voices and
writes to them or just entertains herself.

Wow, bull...that's the first reasonably cognitive thing you've written. Did somebody write it for you?

ut2m

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 19:17:41 GMT

Posted by: annie

Cat-
She can't afford to PAY for a real review, so she expects IT2M to do her
bidding for FREE!!!
She can't afford to pay, cuz that would dip into her twinkie fund!!!

oh..oha...ohahahahahahaha! That is so clever! "Let me see now...hmmm...I need to prove that I'm not an idiot like I demonstrated by not being able to spell her name right even though it's right in front of me...hmmm...how can I appear to be clever? I KNOW! SHE'S FAT! I'LL MAKE A TWINKIE JOKE!! YES!!"

score!

ut2m

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 18:17:34 GMT

oh yeah...and since it's been established that I *did* let it go BB, exactly what was your point? My blog is my blog and nobody is holding a gun to your head to come on over here and read it. If that poor bastard Mr. BB would have told you by now to let it go, or get a grip or whatever maybe you should get him on the horn.

not only do you have your own tag!! You have your OWN MOOD ICON!!

Mostly for me...but for any other LJ drama hounds out there...

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 18:13:02 GMT

This is probably going to turn into a series or something...

They are repeatedly bouncing over here to check on what I'm doing...I don't know whether to feel loved or stalked.

Bitter Bitch made a comment about how nobody is commenting here on my site about my posts...but there are plenty of comments going onto their site about my posts...hmmm...still no sign of that ballsac huh?

And I'm not sure what the whole point is of dissecting the word 'design'...but it was clearly stated that I said that Dave designed the template and what I actually said was that Dave made the graphics. I'd still like to see that quote please. But perhaps it isn't laziness after all...he's just too busy opening up dictionary.com to make a completely nonsensical point. Perhaps before you try to read an English language blog, you should first learn how to speak the language…and I’d like it noted for the record, oh hell fuck it. My character is dead anyway at this point I really could give 2 shits what people think of me, note nothing. Don’t talk about me until your fucking chopped up shit makes sense. K?

One Of Us...One Of Us...

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 17:49:47 GMT

You know what I love? I love it when people call you names…like cunt and stupid bitch and the like, impugning your intelligence, all the while making it VERY clear that they themselves are devoid of any and all brain function. The fury continues over at it2m.com over my seemingly insignificant little area of the internet. Things were, read: WERE, pretty much over until somebody named ‘annie’ decided that since she didn’t get a chance to nip at my ankles, like one of those annoying little furballs that Paris Hilton carries around in her purse, last night that she would do it today. So she called me psycho, saying I use it as a screen name. In the 8+ years that I have been using this name, I have yet to meet one single solitary dickweed idiot that doesn’t notice, when trying to use my name to insult me, that there is no fucking ‘h’ in there. WTG! Are you going to be spelling bee champ next year? *thumbs up!* Anyway, she also said she found it amusing that I was complaining about the length of time it takes the site to load on dial-up. One thing that REALLY burns my ass is when people start attributing comments to me that I never made. It is also seemingly one of the cardinal rules/sins of the site as it appears on the “Idiot” disclaimer page about not flaming someone for a comment they made until you are sure they are actually the one that made it.

I pointed out to her (and anybody else reading) that I didn’t make the comment but that my husband did, and that maybe she should go back and read the Idiot page.

I got flamed. Apparently correcting someone by quoting what I originally said to show them their error is defined in Cattyland as ‘scapegoating’. Apparently I made my husband the scapegoat when I pointed out that someone doesn’t know how to read.

Do they have a Sylvan Learning Center anywhere near you? Because you might want to check it out.

Then I get called a cunt and a dumb bitch and told to have my brain tumor removed by someone who cannot even type the word ‘read’ without spelling it ‘erad’ for yet another comment that I never made. It says in my post that Dave made the graphics. Somehow that turned into me saying that Dave designed the template. I really wish someone…ANYONE!…would show me where I said that because I’d really like to see it. When I pointed out to this modern day sophisticate that I never said it, he said he was too lazy to go quoting my own words back to me and that’s probably a good thing because he would never find those words to quote.

Aside from the post I made here, which I made no attempt to hide and spoke directly to them since I know they are probably still reading it *waves*, I had let this go. Even though they were all up bright and early this morning saying I would be back to whine and calling me a troll, I didn’t say anything. Except to refute a troll accusation that is. But I did not attempt to stir the pot. I have dealt with entirely enough character assassination for today doled out by people too blinded by their own brilliance to actually see the words other people write to them clearly enough to make an intelligent conversation consisting of anything other than mud slinging and ill-conceived and incoherent diatribes. You all were amazed by me yesterday? I’m amazed by you today. I invited all of you to post your comments on my site, which is more than I can say for any of you. I told you I was waiting for any and everything that you had to say and didn’t care if you posted it on your own site as long as you posted it here as well. But when you’ve been hiding in the shelter of your close knit community for so long in relative safety, and become such big fishies in such a wittle bitty pond, I guess the ballsac just kinda shrivels up and heads north huh? I have no filters or limits on those who comment on my posts. Any and all comments are encourage, invited and welcome. I rarely filter any posts because I don’t feel I have anything to hide. I’m here and I’m me and this is what there is. I made some valid points, and in a more rational manner today, and I still got the same head-butting, “WE FEAR CHANGE!” attitude that I got last night. So you can have your site back. You can blame me for the drama that ensued today even though I never said a word to anybody until provoked. You can call me whiny, and a troll, and a cunt, and whatever else it is that your big fish in small pond brain tells you will be the most hurtful. But unfortunately for you, it isn’t. I’m sure that if any of you actually read this, you want have the sac to post here, but instead will slink back to your quiet, black little sanctuary and play a nice game of ‘Cut Up The Whiny LJ Chick’ and that’s fine because in all honesty, it’s just really really sad.

Good luck.

Wanna Be Startin’ Sumpin’ Grabs Crotch Hee! Hee!

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 13:47:14 GMT

I guess some people are touchy…

My lil’ old journal has gotten a LOT of attention in the last 12 or so hours…well more like maybe 10…yah, 10 or so hours. Even though none of them had the balls (or maybe just the desire) to comment here, the insults and dumb cunts were flying left and right over at it2m.com last night. I had 60 notifications of comment responses in my email this morning. All in the space of about 2 or 3 hours.

It seems that I’m just a stupid whiny bitch because I didn’t like the review of my site that they did and chose to voice that opinion rather than sucking on my lower lip, drawing circles in the dirt with my toe, kissing ass and asking for The Almighty’s™ help in planning a redesign of this site. Oh…I’m sorry…did I bounce repeatedly with glee and joy on your ego by not saying “Oh please masah! Don’ whip me no mo! Teach me to be bettah!” but instead saying that what you did was complete and total bullshit? I have no regrets about anything that I said last night either with regard to your website, or my review of your review. I stand by all the comments I made both here and on your website. I think that everyone finds what you say funny as long as it isn’t directed at them and then toes feel stepped on. I mean seriously…I’m just somebody with a pos purple puke template, non-existent sidebar and boring content. Why do you give a rat’s ass what I think about your site anyway? Which you obviously do or else I would not have gotten 60 notifications in my email inbox from responses to my invitation to read my reply to your horseshit review.

You say that all I did was whine and complain and say “poor me!” when I read what you “wrote”. Well, what did you do when you read what I wrote? You bitched and complained and threw around the ‘C’ word quite liberally.

Hold a bad template against me? Fine…that’s fine. I may not have made it, but I chose it. I take responsibility for that.

Hold (in your opinion) boring content against me? Fine…that’s fine. I wrote it. Even though the link is there to view specific subject lines, and even though I found it despite the fact that I’m just a dumb whiny cunt who doesn’t know any better than to use LJ, you couldn’t be expected to be bothered to try and find other topics that might have been of interest to you seeing as the current subject matter was not.

But holding the fact that I happen to have my blog hosted at a site that you happen not to like against me? That’s just stupid. Plain and simple. “I don’t like your blog because, among other reasons, you have it located at a site I don’t like.” Uh…ok…so what has that got to do with MY blog? I know, I know…I should go to blogspot. Do you own stock there or something?

You say (as well as several others) in defense of your lazy ass review that you should not and will not be expected to dig through the archives sufficiently to find a post of interest. I could see that being a valid argument if you were just some nameless wanderer looking for sites of interest to read. But you’re NOT. You pretend to review blogs. You have thereby in effect given yourself a “title”. You’re not just the average person who makes a decision about a blog based on the first one or 2 posts. You’re supposed to be here to REVIEW THE FUCKING BLOG. If the blog only consisted of what was on page number one, ok fine…GREAT! Review page one. But there’s lots more than just one page. To say that you shouldn’t be expected to go through posts when you are REVIEWING something is not only stupid, it’s irresponsible. It would be like Ebert saying he was going to review a movie and only sitting through the opening credits. “The font was too small…I couldn’t read it. And the director’s name wasn’t very interesting. Isn’t everyone and their brother named ‘Smith’? I can’t be expected to sit through the rest of this piece of shit if the credits sucked this bad. I’m outta here!”

You say that there are no guarantees where your reviews are concerned. Ok…I totally get that. “Enter At Your Own Risk”. Totally fine. You also say you’re only using it for entertainment purposes and that it is a “Satire Blog Review Site™”. You say you aren’t getting paid for it so why should you do a good job. Well, I guess that sums up pretty fucking well what is wrong with this country. If you are going to pretend to provide a service for people, you should perform that service to the best of your ability, whether you’re getting paid or not is irrelevant. And ladies (and gentleman), you *are* providing a service. “Come in here! Ask us to review your blog! But don’t bitch about it if you don’t like what we say because we aren’t getting paid here and you asked us in the first place! We didn’t ask to review your site!”

Um…*coughBULLSHITcough*…If you are not asking for submissions, then why have the site at all. If someone submits their site for review, and you accept that submission, and they have to wait a month for that review, I think they are entitled to more than laziness, cheap shots (when not accompanied by genuine wit) and catch phrases.

One of the biggest defenses you used was that it was satire. Nowhere in your “Idiots” disclaimer page does your site claim to be satire. Is it satire when you give a good review? Should your visitors not take those seriously either? When you tell them to “GO NOW! READ IT NOW!” should they just peshaw you and go on to the next Boot To The Head™ so they have something to laugh about? You said that I should have read the site a little more thoroughly and dug through old posts to “get a fucking clue” and see that it’s satire. If you cannot be expected to “dig through old posts” to review my blog, why should I be expected to “dig through old posts” to see where you claim to be satirical? Just because I bitched about it? Well…you didn’t like my site, dig through the posts, otherwise don’t tell me it’s crap unless you’ve read everything you lazy, egomaniacal, holier-than-thou bunch of windbags.

I also find it so entertaining when people are so lacking in wit, intelligence and conversational skills that all they can muster when faced with criticism is to resort to name calling. I was faced with your criticism and what I came up with was a well written (as admitted by the original reviewer, MercilessMinx), thought out, and in my opinion witty retort. What I got for my efforts was a bag full of variations of the word ‘cunt’ and ‘ass’, a “cluex4™” and a barrage of insults about where I happen to host my site. I’m surprised you didn’t bring my mother into it.

I suddenly feel taller.

Please…please feel free to comment HERE…don’t run back to your own site and hold your grudge match there…or do both. Either way, I’m here to hear what you have to say, if you have anything at all to say that is.

Submitted For Your Consideration...Part 2

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 02:05:57 GMT

I got ass raped today!!*does snoopy dance of joy* I would say bitchslapped, but alas...that did not happen. All the bitch slaps were gray....And before I get the stock "You submitted, take your licks" schtick, let me just say that I KNOW THAT! I'm simply exorcising my free speech demons :P

So, submitted for your consideration,

A Live Journal blog, yay. I guess I could say there’s no crap in the sidebar. There’s practically no sidebar to speak of. Instead of a mood section it’s “What my brain says”. It’s kind of annoying, and the “mood images” are different photos of her. I guess it’s less annoying than a different random image every time, but why does an “empty” mood relate to her kissing her cat? I don’t get it. Just do away with the whole stupid mood thing.

The template isn’t pretty by any means, but at least it doesn’t attempt to blind you, though that shade of pink comes awfully close. Oh, and that cyan at the top is a little bright too. At least the content is against a white background and easily readable.

Speaking of content, there are several references to “pre-op” and “post-op”. I guess I should dig through the archives to figure out what kind of operation she’s talking about. Unfortunately the Archive link goes to a stupid calendar display, so I can’t quickly browse post titles. Forget it. I’ll just assume it’s a sex change.

The writing is okay. The topics vary. Meh. Not that interesting.

A Live Journal blog, yay.

What exactly is it that you all hate so much about LJ? I’d genuinely like to know. Seriously. Is it because you see so many of them? Is your own journal here somewhere amidst all the human carnage? Throw me a bone.

I guess I could say there’s no crap in the sidebar. There’s practically no sidebar to speak of.

Ok, so when there’s too much stuff, it’s bad and when there’s not enough stuff it’s still bad...when is it just right? Seriously...I’d like to know...Throw me a bone.

Do you spend lots of time in the woods? Do you break into other people’s houses? Eat their porridge? Sit in their chairs and sleep in their beds? I think somebody wrote a story about you once....as I recall it did not end well. Do you need a hug?

There isn’t more stuff in my sidebar because I don’t need more stuff in my sidebar. I only wear one shade of eye shadow these days.

Instead of a mood section it’s “What my brain says”. It’s kind of annoying, and the “mood images” are different photos of her.

I’ll give you the first part of this one. I didn’t want it to just say “mood” but I anticipated you coming a year and a half ago, so I had to come up with something other than “Random feelings”. As far as the “mood images” thing...honey...sweety...dahlink. Being that you hate LJ so much, I can only assume that you’ve reviewed lots and lots of LJ sites before. Surely by now a sharp tack like you can tell the difference between the user pics that are images of me, and the “mood images” which would be the little annoying animated smilies immediately AFTER the colon. In America, we read left to right. How do they read where you come from?

The template isn’t pretty by any means, but at least it doesn’t attempt to blind you, though that shade of pink comes awfully close. Oh, and that cyan at the top is a little bright too. At least the content is against a white background and easily readable.

I’ll give you this one as well. I don’t like the template. I wanted something pink(ish) but the only other thing available when I tried to set this thing up was a template that was being used by someone else at the time that I knew and I didn’t want it the same as hers. I tried to search out another template a few weeks ago, but discovered that I couldn’t just change the color scheme without rearranging and/or possibly losing everything else so I left it as is. Yes, another thing that is as annoying as fuck about LJ but being that I’m ever so slightly HTMLtarded, it’s the best we can do. Thank you for saying the content is easily readable though. I have to say that the dark background with light text is something I whole heartedly agree with you (all) on.

EDIT: After romping my way on over to your site to tell you all I had gloreefied myself in print, I noticed that the "Blinding" shade of pink that surrounds my blog is shared almost exactly by the apparently not blinding if it's on a site called italk2much.com comments box border. Hypocritical much?

Speaking of content, there are several references to “pre-op” and “post-op”. I guess I should dig through the archives to figure out what kind of operation she’s talking about. Unfortunately the Archive link goes to a stupid calendar display, so I can’t quickly browse post titles. Forget it. I’ll just assume it’s a sex change.

I’m going to reference a comment made in my previous post about your site for response to this. The first thing I’d like to say is that since in the comments section of your post on my site, you said you were kidding, I can only assume that this was done for “shock value” and not because it’s an opinion you genuinely hold. Saying “I’ll assume it’s a sex change.” could only have been said to invoke the proper response from your viewing audience, that being one of levity and self serving wit. The second thing I’d like to say is that in the FIRST paragraph of the FIRST post on the FIRST page, I make reference to caloric intake at least half a dozen times. If I’m so worried about my calories, a thinking person might conclude that I’m speaking of some form of weight loss surgery. But someone looking to “Make ‘Em Laugh” would go right for the penis joke. *thumbs up* you rawk!

The writing is okay. The topics vary. Meh. Not that interesting.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion and, much like assholes, you stink...

Wait...I didn’t say that right...

Seriously though, I realize the navigation of this is annoying at best (if you ignore the “view subjects” link at the bottom of every single fucking month)...so allow me to link some of what I consider my better or more interesting forays into the written word for your perusal.

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/79285.html “Osama Visits MN”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/31928.html “Self Realization At Its Fattest” (warning: this one’s long.)

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/32740.html “Spoilers Suck Ass!”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/32777.html “Sometimes Old Times Hit You Squah In The Nuts!”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/36252.html “Sometimes I Get Creative”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/38203.html “A Rare Political Rant In A Sea Of Idiot Tranquility”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/41539.html “Cute Kitty” (You probably won’t like it...it’s akin to a “cute kid” post)

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/42331.html “Criminals Suck”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/43856.html “Embarrassment Ala Carte”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/54677.html “Toilets Are For PEEING!”

http://psycoma417.livejournal.com/60486.html “If You’re Going To Ride The Bus, Be Sure To Bring Your Phaser”

That should do it...for now...see...when someone does a review of something, they should take a cross section of what is there...if you have too many reviews to do to devote the time that you should to what you are reviewing, perhaps the fault is not with the subject, but with the observer.

And why is it that you all don’t advertise your own sites on your review page? From what I have heard, they are sparkly, blinky, wonderfully wild fun!

Submitted For Your Consideration...Part 1

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 00:50:06 GMT

As I mentioned awhile ago, I submitted this journal to a blog review site. The people that do reviews there are self-proclaimed Bitches. They have names like "Bitter Bitch", "Princess Pottymouth", "Bitch, Esq.", and my personal favorite..."MercilessMinx", who was kind enough to grace "My Little Slice Of Heaven" with her presence today.

If you’ve never had the good fortune to stumble by “I Talk Too Much”, allow me to fill your mind(s) with the sugar plum image of the site and what it ~~seems to be~~ is all about. Sit back and enjoy while I paint you a picture.

They review blogs. Upon first glimpse, we are treated to a graphic of The Power Puff Girls. Or, well...a knockoff. Now let me just stop right here and say “Hell Yah!” I have had Buttercup on my keychain for about 6 years now. I posted a picture of the keychain on an old blog of mine. I love my Buttercup keychain. When her little circle of string becomes so frayed that it breaks and she becomes disconnected from my keys, I will sit down on the floor surrounded by various tools of the sewing trade and I will lovingly reattach her. So I have no problem with their Power Puff Preoccupation. What I do have a problem with is the sense that I get about the why of their pp...p. It seems to me they are trying to drive home the abstract notion that they are bitchy...but it’s ok because they’re CUTE!

saahwinngg battah battah, saahwinngg. Line drive down the third base line. Solid double.

They have an option on the side to change the template. I have not had the inclination to bother as of yet but in light of recent events, I just might give it a try ;)

The sidebar starts out with all of their user pics (or should that be called “mood images”. I’m not sure because like some people, I cannot tell the difference between a “mood image” and a “user pic” ~~dumbass~~) in a row and that’s where you first notice that...hey! There’s a male bitch here! His name is “Charred”. Welcome him to the estrogenfest, won’t you? I actually like their user pics. Back when my husband and I frequented VP (Virtual Places chat on excite), right before its untimely demise, all the teeny boppers started showing up with these little cartoon avs of chicks in half shirts and angel wings, looking all coy with their chins down and their hands clasped behind their backs. People plastered them all over their MSN websites right along side their blinkies and animated cursors. The user pics on this site (except for Charred’s) evoked memories of days gone by because they remind me of those MSN avatars. Thanks for the memories, girls. You got me to go all gushy inside...*tear*

They have a preview of recent comments along one side which is cool because instead of clicking the link at the bottom of the post to read all of the full comments in all their glorious context, you can read half the comment, then click the link at the bottom of the post to read all of the full comments in all their glorious context. But they don’t stop there. They give you OPTIONS! If you’d like, you can click the ‘read’ link at the end of the half-comment. Unsure what you’ve just opened? Well, it’s the post that is being commented on of course, you silly! Why would you expect to be able to see the full comment (or any of the comment) by clicking a link that says ‘Read’ after the comment teaser. Why would you want to?? It’s sort of like when they show previews for a movie and Oh.My.God that movie looks SO cool and then you go and none of the scenes you saw are in the movie. They’ll be on the DVD though so hold your breath.
In the meantime, NOW click on the ‘comment’ link at the bottom of the post to read all of the full comments in....well, you get the idea.

Now I have to hit the fucking back button to go back to the main page. Thank God we have cable. As the hubby says in response to my question of “How long did it take to load on dial-up?”

“Forever and a fucking day. Because the header graphic is so ungodly huge and there is a zillion mile long sidebar...” He started laughing and couldn’t finish his thought.

Anywho, now that the page has reloaded, below the comment-teaser-trailer thingie is the place where you “Submit your site for a loving review”. It is topped by a header that reads “Bitchslapped”. Any potential reviewee’s are forewarned here with a very simple, but very direct disclaimer: “If you are weak of heart or get upset easily don't bother.” And below that is a link to a list of blogs, journals, myspace pages, and misc. sites eagerly awaiting their review. They get LOTS of submissions so it’s usually quite a while before they get to a particular site and it’s apparent that they get LOTS of requests because the content of most of their reviews is short and ~~sweet~~...uh...short.

3 days later, you get to the buttons they have provided for your linking pleasure, archive drop downs, various stats for the site, and a virtual blowjob for the guy that did the graphics for the page.

Short break in the entertainment to relate the dialogue just shared by me and my husband:

“It’s not a guy, it’s a girl.”
“What?”
“It’s not a guy, it’s a girl that did the graphics.”
“Well, then who’s Dave?”
“Who?”
“Dave...it says Dave did the graphics.”
“Oh, I must have missed that.”
“Yah, because you didn’t have 3 days to scroll to the bottom of the sidebar.”

I don’t think the girls like Dave so very much. If they did, they wouldn’t have stuck him in the Bumfuck, Egypt section of their sidebar.

All of them share in the reviewing process, along with the site’s seemingly Deity Like creator, Ms. Chatty. They normally do 3 sites in a session, but sometimes are so disgusted by the first site that they don’t bother going any further. And who can blame them?? I mean, when you put yourself out there as the End-All-Be-All of blogging reviewer sites, who has the time to actually do more than one half-hearted review when American Idol is coming on in like 5 minutes?!? Tivo is the debil! I must watch live! I must call! I MUST VOTE! I MUST...oh man I shit my pants.

Mostly, they hate...well everybody. They hate anybody with words like “Random” and “Rambling” in their titles because, and let’s be honest here, like just about everybody and their mother uses at least one of those words in their titles. And when you get a gazillion submissions from people who dare to want to be reviewed by your little mom-and-pop operation, you get to see them all. So after the 12,645th “Random Ramblings Of A Random Rambler”, I guess I’d get pretty sick of those words too. They don’t seem to have a problem with titles containing the phrase “Confessions Of A...” though. I guess that while “Random” and “Rambling” appear in 1 out of 3 online personal space titles, the other 2 featuring those pillars of individuality make a bitch jump for joy and spontaneously orgasm. Specially if they have a pink fuzzy hat to go along with it.

The pinnacle of their hate though is reserved for those unfortunate enough to use myspace, livejournal, msn, and most Blogger submissions. And god forbid if you have a standard, generic, graphics not designed by Dave template. Most of the problems that they have with these sites I whole-heartedly agree with. They are way too fucking busy. WAY TOO BUSY. When I got my first make-up kit as a Christmas present at the tender age of 12, my mother had one piece of worldly knowledge to impart to me.

“Now, just because there are 3 shades of eye shadow in there doesn’t mean you have to wear them all at the same time.” Of course I did. Light blue across the lid, pink across the brow, and dark blue under the eye. I was stylin’! Where’s my legwarmers and neon green Flashdance-esque sweatshirt?? Help me put on my Lee Press-ons and we’re so outta here!!

msn users are notorious for putting every single mother fucking blinking, blinding, space and bandwidth hogging piece of shit on their sites that they can find. They are also usually about 14 years old on average. Cut them some slack. Throw them a Bell Curve for fuck’s sake. I’m sure there’s a picture of you wearing some blue eye shadow somewhere in the depths of your junk drawer.

I’m not sure why they hate LJ. They don’t have accounts here so it can’t possibly be for the same reason that my husband left which was LJ’s affection for regurgitation when it comes to site design and dependability. Is it the mass market appeal? People, such as myself, who are HTMLtards but still want to share their Confessions Of A Random Rambler ™ with the masses have to go somewhere. Would you like to line us up and design our sites for us? But then, YOUR designs would be mass market and you’d have to start shredding your own creations in 3 line reviews.

They hate long sidebars. As soon as I have finished scrolling to the top of their sidebar, I’ll quote you something...

.....

.........

....oh forget it. They don’t like them.

Ok, moving on.

Templates and blinkies, and blogrolls aside they also review the blog’s content. Mostly they are bored. Unless they are reviewing someone who bitches and rants about everything endlessly. Then they purr with delight. Which is cool. I love drahma as much as the next gal. It’s why I’m doing this. It’s why I start fights with people who I think are being rude while I’m trying to lose at poker online. But Jesus H. Christ ona crutch is someone only worthy of praise if they are loud and obnoxious?

Yes?

Alrighty then.

In closing...(yay!)...much of what they say, I find very funny. Much of what they think, I agree with. Which pisses me off because there is nothing worse than being offended by someone you think is funny. I mean all that does is make me stop and think the next time I’m reading something, “That’s funny! Wait...is it funny or mean?” Then I have to think about it and that’s just time out of my day that I could have been doing something else...like scrolling to the bottom of their sidebar to read how long it took the site to load.
Sometimes I’m pretty sure they are just being nasty because they are Bitches™, not because they particularly believe in what they are saying. I’m sure that for the most part they do, but the way they present their comments in some reviews reeks of shock value instead of honest opinion. After all, you’ll get more comments displayed in the Teaser-Trailer-Comments™ section if there’s a fish at the bottom of the review instead of 5 blank Bitchslaps.

Or the infamous Boot To The Head™ from Mr. Firefighter/linux geek.

Post Script: Behind the cut in the next entry is a review of the review I received today from the aforementioned “Merciless Minx”. Please note, any of you IT2M reviewers/frequenters that may choose to stop by and say “Fuck you!”, that my review(s) (both above and below) are COMPLETE reviews, not the back handed, half assed, I have to be done in time for the (on the air 3rd time this week) Idol episode that’s on in 15 minutes liner notes that most of the time grace that site. It’s one thing to bitch about the fact that the “archives” link only opens to a calendar. It’s another to substantiate your gripe by actually continuing with the clicking to report EXACTLY how difficult it is to find post titles. After all, that is what a review is all about...right?

Look! You got your own tag!! :D

Jesus H Christ OnA Popsicle Stick!

Mon, 10 Apr 2006 18:45:39 GMT

I'm going to have to rethink my lunchtime smoothie. That 20 ounces of fruity goodness with a protein boost is throwing my calories all the fuck outta whack. Without it, I'll have had 683 calories and 33 grams carbs for the day. With it, I'm at 1109 calories and something over 100 carbs for the day...sweet jesus. 130 calories in the protein scoop they give you and it only has 7 grams of protein in it...wtf??
I was trying to think of something interesting to write about in the way of my post-op progress for the purposes of observation (both other people's and my own for later) and decided on the temperature things that have changed.
Pre-op, I was always hot. Always. Didn't matter what was going on, I was hot. The back of my neck and behind my ears would get all sweaty and ick and I was just miserable and so was my husband because he's the opposite and I was forever either opening windows when they didn't need to be opened or turning on the a/c when it had no business being on.
I had heard about this "transformation" as a pre-op and couldn't quite believe it could happen on such a drastic level, or at least not as quickly as others said it would. Sure, I hoped it would but I had serious doubts.
Holy Buckets! I am cold all the fucking time. Like right now. It is 65 degrees outside...the sun is shining brightly in the early spring sky and the heat is still on in the building. I work in the basement so we are in relatively close proximity to the heating system that has to work for all 33 floors of this building. Consequently, when it starts to warm up outside, it is always roasting down here. Everyone has been walking around for the last 3 or 4 (working) days saying how hot it is down here. When I went to cover the receptionist desk while the girl up there today went to lunch, I had to turn the fan off because she had it on because she said she was hot. My fan has not been on once since October. I'm cold right now. Not freezing cold, but I could use like a sweater or something, and everyone is walking around today talking about how they are so hot. It will be interesting to see what happens come summer. I cannot wait to see :)

I'm A Loser Baby...

Fri, 07 Apr 2006 16:16:27 GMT

I had big plans this year…

Since my surgery was almost 6 months before our 1st anniversary, I was hoping that by the time it came up that I would be small enough to fit into the whirlpool tub that will be in our room at the hotel that I wasn’t able to fit into at the time of our wedding last year. With the date a little more than a week away, and me sitting uncomfortably at 13 pounds above my goal for that date, I don’t think it’s going to happen.

I wanted to go to Valley Fair this year during the summer to celebrate but it doesn’t look as though there is going to be anything to celebrate. I’ve been stuck on this fucking plateau for about 3 weeks now, which is the longest one I’ve ever had and I’m sure that at some point I will start losing again (or at least I hope so) but I doubt I’ll lose 13 pounds in 10 days and I really doubt that I’ll be small enough by May (or June for that matter) to ride any rides this year (ever?).

Fuck me. I had forgotten what this was like, or at least I’ve been able to shove it to the back of my mind for the last 6 months. Since my surgery, I have had blessedly pain free days. Every single thing in my life since October 25th, 2005 has been centered around the fact that I was getting smaller. Riding the bus, trying on new clothes, sitting in chairs, crossing my legs, seeing and feeling bones emerge. I have been shielded from any and all disappointments where my size was concerned. Everything has been going in the other direction. I have been pleasantly surprised at every single turn. Hell…I’m wearing a shirt today that my mother bought me probably 10 years ago that I could never wear. I had to take the tags off this morning.

But now these things are looming over me, putting 113 pounds of ugly, self loathing, oppressive weight back on my shoulders. I’m thinking about the hotel, about the park, and preparing myself for disappointment. And that would be all well and good. But there is this tiny little piece of my 34 year old brain that never got past the age of 6. That tiny little piece is too stupid to expect the disappointment, the pain. That tiny little piece expects that even though mommy and daddy cannot afford to put food on the table it doesn’t matter because Santa Claus is real and he’s coming this year and it’ll wake up on Christmas morning to find lots and lots of presents under the sad little tree in the corner. That tiny little piece of my brain to too innocent not to hope. And that is what is making this pain come back. Because I cannot help it. Even though I know I’m not going to fit in that tub, and I know that I’m not going to fit on those rides, that tiny little fucking piece of me is hoping against hope that it won’t be true. And no matter what, I cannot convince it otherwise. So while I’m attempting to convince myself that it isn’t going to happen, that these things won’t be possible and trying to prepare ahead of time so that the pain is gone by then, that little light won’t die. And I want it to. I don’t want to remember what this feels like, I want to be free of it. I want instead to have that wonderful feeling of surprise like I had in the dressing room the first time I tried on a pair of size 26 jeans and they fit and they were even a little big. I want to cry for that feeling, not for the feeling that no matter what I’m always going to be too big. Because I’ve always been too big. That nothing is going to change, not really.

Yes, I realize it’s only been 6 months. Yes, I realize that in all likelihood I’ll continue to lose. But the thought that is causing this pain is that no matter what, I’ll always be too big. Even if I hit my own goal of 199, I’ll still be too big. Because I don’t remember 199 being thin, or even ‘normal’. I remember it being bigger than everyone else and I remember it being hard to sit in normal chairs and I remember it being not enough.

Do thin people realize how lucky they are? To not have every single decision you make every day have to involve consideration over whether or not it will be physically possible? Do post-ops at goal (or even anywhere near it) realize how lucky they are? Do you think about it every minute of every day? Or does it eventually just fade into the unconscious background of “Everyday Life”? Yah, I know I did this for medical reasons…I know I did this because of this medical thing or that medical thing or blah blah fucking blah. I did this to be normal dammit and right now I don’t think I ever will be.

I don’t want advice about my plateau. I don’t want to know how much protein you’re eating, or how much water you’re drinking or how long you spent at the gym today. I don’t want “chin up!” type comments.

I want to know that somebody else had this happen. I don’t want to know that “it goes away” because I’m sure that it will. If you want to share something personal about what I’ve written, that’s what I want. I want to know if it happened to you. I want to know if for ‘x’ amount of time everything went great and then you were ‘slapped’ with the fact that something didn’t go so great.

I want right now to not feel alone because that’s what I feel.

Dust In The Wind

Tue, 04 Apr 2006 14:29:23 GMT

I threw my life away last week.

Well, not all of it but definitely a good-sized chunk. The last time that we moved, we put things off for so long that when the day finally came, we had no choice but to just throw literally everything into boxes, take it with us, and resort to going through it later. At the time, this was thought to not be a problem because we were going to have a garage for storage. We figured we’d put the boxes out in the garage and go through them when we had time.

Well, as has happened so often with this particular apartment complex/management company/owner thing, that garage never materialized. So we had 4 years worth of crap (plus some that I brought with me when I moved in with my husband in 1998) stuffed in boxes and squeezed into our tiny one bedroom apartment that had no closet or storage space to speak of. For the 3 years we lived in that apartment, we did not have use of the lovely walk-in closet in the bedroom, nor did we have the opportunity to view 2 of the 4 walls of the bedroom as they were lined with boxes. Granted most of our future problems would come from the fact that we never did go through those boxes, or most of them anyway.

When this move came along, we said things would be different. We had roughly 6 weeks notice that we would be moving and so we decided we would do it right this time. Sort though the crap and only bring what we actually wanted, what was actually necessary to have and not what would help turn us into the crazy cat couple at the end of the block during our golden years. You know, the ones who emergency services personnel have to dig out from under 20 years worth of newspapers stacked throughout the house when they die. Of course nobody knows they’re dead because they never talk to the neighbors and the only reason someone knows that something is amiss is from the smell that starts emanating from under the door 3 weeks after they die.

Well…being dicked around by your building management fq team /fq does not exactly facilitate expeditious packing. Neither of us wanted to be in a position of boxing everything up and being ready and then having everything fall through at the last minute. I think in those 6 weeks, I packed up one box and cleaned out one closet. The 25th of March hit us like a freight train and we scrambled for the next 4 days to try and get everything done. 4 years worth of crap had multiplied like so many Tribbles into 7 and a half years of crap and our bedroom closet practically attacked us when we finally opened the door to try and go through it. We did this on Tuesday night, the last night we had to be completely finished so they could come in and paint and shampoo the carpets and get the place ready for the new tenant who would be moving her stuff in on the 1st. (Yes, as stated in a previous post, I think they are idiots for wanting to have the place occupied that soon but what do I know? Aside from how to re-hang refrigerator doors that is)

It started out well enough. With my recent rapid weight loss, figuring out what clothes to throw out and what to keep was not an issue. Pretty much everything went. I had some old concert tshirts but that was about it. Then 5 white boxes made their way out of the closet and sat in the middle of the now empty and vacuumed bedroom floor, waiting to blind me with the flood of memories they would spew at me once I opened them. I had not opened these boxes in over 3 years. Before that, maybe once.

There were things in these boxes that have been with me since childhood. There were pictures I had forgotten I had taken. There were mementos of a life long since dead and buried. There were magazines and posters from the few years I spent absolutely obsessed with Def Leppard. There were letters from people that I don’t even remember anymore. There were 2 valentine’s day cards, you know…those cheap cartoon cards that you buy for your kids so they can bring them to school and exchange them in the ‘mailboxes’ that the teacher had them make the week before to hang on their desk during the Valentine’s Day class party. You would walk around the room, depositing your cards into your classmates receptacles, all the while praying that when you got back to your desk that your Valentine’s Day mailbox would not be empty. Along the way, you would sample Suzi’s cupcakes, and take one of Danny’s rice crispy treats.

But these cards were not from classmates. They were two Disney cards that my little sister had given to me when she was about 5. She’ll be 24 next month.

In 1993(ish), my mom had to travel to Mexico City quite frequently for her job. While there, she bought me many little odds and ends, street-wares if you will. Those were all in those boxes as well.

When I lived by myself in a small apartment from 1994-1997, the walls of my apartment were completely covered with Def Leppard posters. It looked like a 16 year old boy lived there. I still had all those posters, all the Metal Edge magazines, all the clippings, all the articles I had spent countless hours cutting out of magazines and newspapers and putting into scrapbooks.

All of these things went in the trash. It was easier than I thought it would be at the time but now, looking back, I’m being slightly overwhelmed by this heavy sadness that has settled on my shoulders. It may have just been junk, it may have just been papers, or a 50 cent little fabric finger doll with braids in her hair. It may have just been a 20 year old cheap Valentine’s Day card.

But these things were my life. These things filled my days with happiness. Some of these things found their way into various mailboxes over the years that would bring a light into my eyes and a smile to my lips when I saw them waiting for me. These things defined me, said who and what I was.

But those things aren’t me any more. I am more than my memories. I am more than a few old photos in a box, buried underneath a cut up copy of an old metal magazine. I am a different person today than I was 13 years ago. I like to think I’ve evolved in a positive way. I’d like to think I’m a good person and an honest person. The values I had then I still have now, except that maybe they are a little more important to me than they used to be and I don’t mind so much speaking my mind and having others not agree with me. It used to be that if I shared my thoughts or opinions on something that I would try to qualify it or negate it myself if someone didn’t sound like they agreed with me.

But somewhere, somehow, sometime in the last 10+ years, I grew up. I don’t know when it happened, or where, or how but it did just the same. Some of the things that were my whole life before are just not that important anymore. There was a time when I would have moved heaven and earth (and I did) to go to a Def Leppard concert if I knew one was coming. I know there’s one coming. They’ll be here in July, right down the street from where I work. I wouldn’t even have to go home first. Hell…I could probably even have a chance of meeting them if I was stubborn enough (which I am). But it just isn’t that important to me any more. It’s on a Tuesday, which means work the next day. It means staying up late, fighting traffic, missing my weekly poker tournament. In other words…I just really won’t miss it all that much if I don’t go.

It’s very strange. My 20’s were spent in a fog of no money, misspent youth, uncertainty, delusion and repression. Now squarely in my 30’s, I find myself much more concerned with whether or not I’ll get enough sleep tonight, whether or not my husband has a good day at work, getting home to see my kitties, making sure that I surf cnn.com at least once so I know at least a little bit about what’s going on in the world. No longer are my days fueled by trying to fit in a run to the store to buy alcohol, or going up the street to smoke with my friend.

I don’t know how it happened…and I’m a little sad to see it go…but I’m glad that it went.

Worked Hard All My Life With No Help From My Friends...

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 19:43:30 GMT

Some changes came with moving to our new place…

We got rid of our Direct TV service and switched to Comcast cable and internet.

I didn’t really want to do this at first because for Christmas this year I bought Gary the NHL Center Ice on Direct TV and it is non-refundable. Also, I like Direct TV. We’ve had it since 2001 and the only problem we had with it ever was when there was a REALLY bad storm (like blizzard or flood type stuff) and it would go out. Usually only for a few minutes but this past month it went out for an entire night but that was a REALLY bad snow storm so I guess it’s kind of understandable. Of course it had to happen on the night that Flavor Of Love on VH1 had its series finale so I was pissed about it. I don’t know what it was about that show, probably all the cat fights and the drama (ooh!) but I was totally addicted to it.

We also don’t have Soap Network now so I can’t watch my Days Of Our Lives anymore which sucks but oh well.

On the plus side though, we have cable internet now which is TOTALLY worth it! We were on dial-up before and figured since we were moving and probably going to “ditch the dish” what the hell, go for the whole enchillada. We’re paying just $60.37/month for the first year because we gave them our receiver. Not bad. Plus installation was free ($80) and after the 12 months, the internet goes to (I think?) $45 and the cable goes to something like $85 or so.

I have to say though that I’ve had to talk to Comcast’s customer service people quite a lot in the last 2 weeks and it is THE best customer service I have ever encountered so kudos to you guys at Comcast for being such great people :)

What do I like about Comcast’s product? Well…the On Demand is really cool. It has tons of programming (both PPV and free) that basically is like tivo but we don’t pay extra for it (unless it’s PPV). Gary has some little comfort in the fact that there are highlight shows on there for hockey that he can watch and I like the fact that there’s a ton of movies to watch. There’s lots more color choices than with Direct TV for your guide but unlike Direct TV, you can’t filter out the channels you don’t get/won’t watch unless you use the parental lock settings which would be fine except that if there’s a free preview of Showtime or something we wouldn’t just have it pop up like on Direct TV. I was reading over somebody’s shoulder this morning on the bus and noticed that Comcast is going to start having some NBC shows On Demand so that will be cool too.

And cable internet? Holy Buckets! I downloaded a 15 meg podcast the other night in like 3 minutes. VERY cool. Gary says he’ll be downloading massive amounts of porn. Can’t wait.

My Friends All Drive Porsches I Must Make Amends...

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 15:50:32 GMT

Ok, so why else did I have a stressful week? I’ll tell you…3 words…

As you know if you’ve paid ANY attention up to now, my husband has 2 sons from a previous relationship. NOT marriage…just fq relationship /fq

My step sons’ mother is a complete lunatic. I won’t get into the whole “why” thing because it may be my story but it isn’t only my story and I don’t want to embarrass anybody. Suffice it to say, she’s completely crazy, totally lacking in sane and rational judgement and she dropped her moral compass about 12 parsecs ago.

We are supposed to have visitation with the boys every 2 weeks. We pick them up generally on Saturday around 10am and bring them home Sunday around 4:30pm. With our living situation so up in the air of late, we thought it might be a good idea to not take them on overnights but just spend the day with them a couple of times the last 2 weeks in March and then through April and resume normal visitation the end of April/beginning of May.

This was seconded by Her Royal Looniness because, unbeknownst to us, she’s getting married.

Whoa!…hold on…apply the breaks and come to a screeching halt!

Married??

About a month ago, Gary called their house to confirm that he was picking them up the following day. The phone rang and then a strange man answered. Thinking he had dialed a wrong number, Gary hung up. It turned out that we would not be taking them that weekend because his youngest wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to come over and his oldest figured it would be pointless to come without his brother. When Gary picked me up from the bus stop that night and told me that Ryan was sick, I wanted to call and see how he was. I called the house and nobody answered. Gary told me about the strange guy who answered the phone before when he (had thought) dialed a wrong number. The voicemail picked up when I called and it said “Becky, Garrick, Ryan, and Alex.”

I hung up.

Who the fuck is Garrick?

The next time we had the boys 2 weeks later, I just came out and asked them if they and their mother were living with someone. They said yes, that she’d been with him for about 6 or 7 months and he’d been living there for 2.

Nice…

The following Monday, Becky emailed and said that she had heard that Alex told us she was getting married.

She get mallied to oily beau hunk.

Married??

Yah, mallied!

Married??

YAH! MALLIED! JEES!

(15 cool points to whoever gets that movie reference in the comments section first)

So…let’s recap, shall we?

This woman, the same woman who-the first year I lived with my husband-called me on the phone and ripped my head off for daring to get up with her children and feed them breakfast instead of their father doing it, this woman is getting married. And the father of her children did not even know that said children had a strange man living with them for the last 2 months. We find it ironic that before we took the first step and asked about this person, we never heard one peep from anybody about his existence. He was never mentioned in conversations, never mentioned in passing, never mentioned in emails. But since we found out about him, she mentions him at least once every time she talks to either of us.

Anyway, so she is cool with the whole rescheduling thing because she is getting married (almost a year to the day mind you after we got married) and her wedding falls on what should be our normal weekend with the kids. No problemo.

Well, last weekend, the 25th-26th, we were going to pick them up, take them to lunch, play mini golf or something, and bring them home for dinner. Last Friday, she suddenly says how there is a recital for her latest victim, oh- excuse me, her future husband, for his niece or something and the boys may want to go and it’s up to them. They are supposed to call us Friday night so we can figure out what is going on. Gary calls on Friday afternoon and she says they will call him back that night. We disconnect the computer about quarter to 7 and they never call. Finally at 10pm we are tired of waiting for the call so we hook the computer back up, being that it’ll be the last time until who knows when that we have internet. Saturday ended up being such a mess that it’s probably for the best anyway.

As I said in Pt 1 of this little epic, we both called in on Monday to try and finish moving on time. On Tuesday we come into work and both have emails from her chastising us for our lack of respect, for being rude and inconsiderate blah blah blah because we never called the boys. Even though we never got a phone call from them. She says they tried calling at about 6, it was busy, so they never bothered trying again. I have saved the emails that ensued and I will post them all in another entry so you all can see what a looney she is but I’ll have to wait until I get home because they are on my home email. Suffice it to say…I think I broke her. She claims she has now blocked my email address because she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.

Gee…I feel just AWEFUL!

*snicker*

Anybody want an email address to flood with emails that have the subject line of “Boiled any rabbits lately, Crazy Britches??” ?

Oh Lord, Woncha Buy Me A Mercedes Benz...

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 14:37:07 GMT

I’ll warn you all right now that this is probably going to be quite long. I’m typing it up in word first because I have a feeling it isn’t going to be a ‘one sitting’ kind of a deal and if I have to stop in the middle or whatever at least I can pick up where I left off. This has been one of our more stressful weeks around the ol’ Mr. And Mr. O household and now that the end seems to be on the horizon, I find myself oddly restless at the thought of having nothing to stress about for the next couple of weeks (aside of course from trying to save money for our upcoming 1st anniversary trip, getting more stuff for our new place, etc etc).

I’ll start off with the thing that has taken up about 90% of our energy, specifically over the last 7 days but generally over the last few weeks. We finally moved last weekend into our new apartment. It’s in the same building as the old one and one floor up but it was still a pain in the ass, possibly more so than an ordinary move because of all the political baggage that seems to have come with it.

See, I’m on my best day what you would kindly refer to as ‘domestically challenged’ and not so kindly as just a huge fucking slob. I don’t clean. I hate cleaning. And I figure that since I have a crappy little apartment what is really the point? I am also a pack rat. I have a hard time parting with anything. So, slob + packrat = really REALLY hard fucking move. We have been waiting for this apartment since the 2nd week in February. I was talking to the building manager one day and asked how much the rent for a 2 bedroom was. She told me (much less than what we would have thought) and said she just happened to have one available. They still needed to do a little work on it, but if we wanted it, it was ours. I told her we probably wouldn’t be ready to move until April and she said “No problem! We’ll finish the apartment some time before the end of the month (February) and you guys can just start hauling your stuff up there whenever.”

Sounds great!

Yah…What.Fucking.Ever.

The tenant who had the apartment before us had apparently completely trashed it. They had to rip out the carpet, she painted the walls funky colors, they had to replace the ceramic tile in the kitchen, and since they weren’t replacing the carpet because the hardwood underneath was in good shape, they had to sand and finish the rest of the floors. She said 2 weeks, definitely by the beginning of March it would be ready.

Last Friday, yes…that’s right. Friday…March 2fucking4th, she stops us in the hallway and says “Your apartment is ready! I’ll take you guys up there in the morning so you can look at it, I’ll give you the key and you can move in! Look at me! Aren’t I wonderful???” *twirl*

Ok, so she didn’t say she was wonderful and I don’t think she actually twirled but I think there might have been a bow in there somewhere, and also possibly a jig of some sort.

Saturday morning, we go down to the office and she leads us upstairs. We walk into our “ready!” apartment. Yes, so ok…it looks much better than it did the first time we were in there. When we first looked at it, the hardwood floors were still unfinished and needed sanding and all kinds of stuff. The fridge, stove and a counter (as well as some sort of floor finishing equipment) were all in the dining room huddled together (for warmth?) and there was no floor in the kitchen. Ok, well it isn’t like everything was suspended in mid-air or anything, but there was no tile.

Saturday, there was tile in the kitchen, although it isn’t laid in very well as it’s very uneven. But it looks nice. The cleaning lady had mopped the hardwood with the wrong kind of mop so the guy had to sand it and finish it again and it didn’t turn out as well as he’d hoped but it still looks nice. The painter had been in earlier in the morning to finish up the baseboards. Oh, look. He missed the one in the bathroom. Well, he’ll come back on Monday and do that one.

Oh look…no fridge. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get you a fri-WAIT! Another unit has a roof leak! I’ll bet we can take that one! Let me call the owner and see if it’s ok and I’ll call you back. Now I’m thinking “Hmmm…the ‘ready’ apartment is not ‘ready’ yet I’d like to start getting some stuff in here so that this is not the nightmare I’m starting to think it’s going to be.”

We wait for a couple of hours and she calls us and informs us that she’s making an executive decision and that she is just going to go ahead and put that other fridge into our apartment and if he (the owner) doesn’t like it, tough. One problem. Nobody available to do it until at least Monday. Well…cable I can live without. Internet, yah…couple days won’t kill me. Phone, no problem, nobody really calls us anyway. But no fridge?? I don’t want to start moving if I have no place to put the food I can no longer eat.

“Unless Gary wants to move it. We have a 2 wheeler he could use.”

The building manager seems to be operating under the delusion that not only am I incapable of lifting anything remotely resembling anything, but that my husband is Arnold Schwollenpecker and works for the apartment building.

So I say, “Well I can help him. I think we can handle it together. Can we borrow the dolly afterwards to move our stuff?” She is resistant to this but finally agrees.

So we move the fridge, which is actually relatively painless compared to what we thought it would be. Oh look! The wall is on the right side of the fridge and aren’t we lucky, so is the opening!

Someone can come out and re-hang the doors…on Monday at the earliest. Yah…I’ll just do it myself. Which I DID tyvm and I am more proud of myself than I can tell you. With no help from anybody (because I threw a temper tantrum when my husband tried to help bless his heart because I wanted to do it myself) and it works and everything. Although you can’t just casually shut the fridge part of the door, you have to sort of push it shut. Not sure what went wrong there, if anything, but at least it closes. If it ever doesn’t close, I’m sure I can look at it again, this time accepting help if it’s offered because I may be a little crazy but I’m not an idiot. Mostly.

I’ll be honest here now and say that we dropped the ball a little bit on Saturday. We took naps when we should have been hauling refuse and didn’t move as quickly or efficiently as we should/could have. Sunday brought slightly more activity but by the end of the day we were both beat. We slept in the new apartment Sunday night and both called in to work on Monday to try and get as much done as possible. We actually did very well Monday. Got all the furniture out with the exception of one tv stand, one lamp and one computer chair. We still needed to clean out the closet and finish cleaning the apartment plus the little odds and ends still left to take upstairs. We started at 6pm and I finally finished at 1:07am. And in my opinion that damn apartment looked good! Sure there were some things that needed work, like the tub needed to be professionally cleaned because the Mr. Clean Magic Reach Piece Of Shit Scrubber Mopper is crap and the walls are stained because of the nasty, vile, evil smokers who have resided there for the last 3 years. But considering what it looked like when we finally got all our junk out of there, I was once again pretty fucking proud of myself.

Of course that wouldn’t last long.

Oh, and I forget which day it was, either Sunday or Monday, but on one of those days as Gary was going between apartments making trips, he walked past the building manager and some guy standing on a ladder. The guy was trying to get up on the roof to see if it was dry so they could patch the hole that was causing a leak in the apartment we stole our fridge from. The guy was having a problem getting from the ladder to the roof (one of those nasty prehistoric ‘crawl-through-me-so-you-can-fall-and-break-your-neck’ holes in the ceiling) and the building manager looks at Gary and says “Can you see if you can get on the roof to see if it’s dry?”

Gary looks at the guy and says “Dude…you’re like a FOOT taller than me. I don’t think so.”

I wonder if Gary’s maintenance job with the property comes with benefits…because we could use some more prescription drug coverage.

I went down on Wednesday to return the dolly we had borrowed to help us move our stuff and the building manager basically dressed me down for the condition of the apartment, asking me if I had “...been able to get to…” various things in the apartment. At one point, she asked if I had even touched the fridge and I said yes and she said “Well, the nicotine is just all over it.” (She’s a smoker, so this wasn’t coming as a putdown from a non-smoker) I said “You do realize that fridge is not white, right?”

“Oh…well maybe that’s it.”

She also said the bathroom tiles were stained with nicotine…we didn’t smoke in the bathroom. Now I realize that smoke can go anywhere and usually does. But those tiles are not white either. Nothing in that apartment was white except the ceiling fans. To prove the point to her (which hopefully I did), when I scrubbed, I noticed and remembered something I had noticed when we moved in 3 years ago. On the shower wall part of the tiles in the bathroom, about 2 rows up from the top of the tub, right in the middle of the wall are 2 white tiles. The rest of the tiles…NOT white. I hope she noticed that, although I doubt that she did.

It also paid off that I don’t cook because the oven isn’t in that serious a need of cleaning.

The reason she is so freaking out about getting our apartment ready and the fact that I didn’t do a Fantastik job of cleaning it is because she has rented it already to the next tenant…for Tomorrow. Yes, that’s right. That apartment is going to be occupied again on April 1st. She gave herself 3 days to turn it.

Who does that??

She’s mad because we didn’t get it done well enough in 4 days.

Our new apartment has been vacant since some time LAST YEAR and when we moved into our READY apartment, there was still no fridge, the baseboards were not painted, there were covers missing from the heat registers, there was no rod in one of the closets, there are water spots on the ceiling in the bedroom and one of the cabinets in the kitchen did not close.

They had MONTHS to finish the new apartment for us to move in and it was not done and she’s pissed because we didn’t have ours ready in 4 days.

They have PROFESSIONAL crews working on our new apartment for MONTHS and she’s pissed because 2 people working alone and decidedly NOT PROFESSIONALS were unable to get the apartment into move-in condition in 4 days.

Is that new math? Because that always gave me a problem in school. Where’s my protractor?

And here’s where the political baggage comes into play. We are in the same building. She also lives in this building. We have 2 cats which we aren’t technically supposed to have but got permission from the original owners when we moved into the property so they can’t (I guess) really say anything to us. We already know that the records from the old owner and string of property managers were not kept (or at least not kept well) so if the owners put it in our file, it probably doesn’t exist anymore. I think that the current management company and the current owner are embarrassed at the lack of documentation so they aren’t saying anything about our kitties.

The thing is, I don’t want to piss this lady off. I would love to actually say all of these things to her because I really think it was retarded for her to think she could turn around an apartment that has been occupied for 3 years in less than a week. She should have given herself a month and if the apartment got finished early, let the new tenant move in as she is basically doing the same thing as us and transferring from another property under the same ownership as ours. But no, she wanted that apartment occupied come hell or high water and it didn’t matter what she had to do to get it. So it’s up to us to see that the apartment is ready for the new tenant to move in (minus the obvious task of painting and shampooing the rug). I’m sorry but, if it is our job to do that, then what have you got a cleaning crew for??

I haven’t seen or spoken to her since Wednesday. I have no idea if my scrubbing was good enough. We are supposed to have the keys back to her for the old place by noon today. Since my husband is off on Fridays, he’s going to take care of it. The thought of having to see her again and possibly get yelled at for the fact that I didn’t scrub out the fridge (which didn’t need scrubbing. I think there are some crumbs) was making me actually physically ill last night. My husband…being the wonderful Schwollenpecker that he is, volunteered to take care of it and bring the keys down alone today. I’m gazing into my handy dandy crystal ball and seeing a blow job in your future, dear. Prepare yourself…

So we’re all moved. We’re going to go to a furniture store this weekend and see about getting a new couch or loveseat as we had to retire our couch as a casualty of my battle with the bulge. It got a purple heart though although that might be bruising from the bulk it was forced to carry lo’ these 7 and a half years.

Part 2 of “Why I Had A Stressful Week” in the possibly 3 part series is coming soon…

PSA

Sun, 26 Mar 2006 05:31:30 GMT

Never...NEVER take your wife to Target when setting up (or just buying stuff) for a new home/apt unless you want to spend $205 dollars by the time you're done when all you went there for was one storage tote and possibly a tv stand...and you didn't even get the tv stand.

WTF?

Fri, 24 Mar 2006 15:18:11 GMT

Wtf happened to my margin thingies? My posts are all squishified...uh...yah. LJ, suck my balls.

Artistic License....

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 15:29:13 GMT

The moment she stepped in the room, she knew something was wrong. Everyone just looked way too somber. She walked over to where the two of them sat, edged past the small round table and sat down on his right. The girl was talking to him and suddenly she knew. His mother had died. He glanced at her, smiling slightly but unable even to speak, even to say hello. The sadness overcame her and she began to cry softly, turning her face slightly away from him so he wouldn’t see. But he did see, and he looked as though he didn’t understand why she was crying. And she couldn’t blame him really. She’d never even met his mother, never spoken to her, never knew her. But the overwhelming sadness laid over her like a blanket and the harder she tried not to cry, the more the tears came, spilling from her eyes and falling silently down her cheeks.

He looked at her as though he might actually be upset that this girl who didn’t even know his mother, whom he seemed to hardly know, was sharing in this pain that was so raw and in which she had no right to share. She smiled a small, embarrassed smile and tried to wipe away her tears in the least obvious way possible. He was still looking down at her when she spoke. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I know I didn’t know your mother and I know I have no right. But I’m so sad for you that it’s breaking my heart.”

He didn’t speak, but instead only looked long enough to acknowledge he’d heard her, then turned away. He’s disgusted with me, she thought and stood as quickly as she could and almost ran from the room. It was a struggle to keep her legs from shaking and once outside in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and the sobs came freely. She slid slowly down to the floor and cried, covering her face with both hands, replaying the scene in her head over and over again as her shoulders shook. How could I be so stupid, she asked herself. She was so involved in her own misery that she didn’t notice him come out of the room and stand next to her in the hallway, looking down at her somewhat sadly but not with the disgust she had mistakenly thought she saw on his face, in his eyes.

He knelt down beside her and put his hand on the back of her head. Startled, she looked up, tears still falling slowly down her face. Her eyes locked with his and in that instant she knew that she was wrong before, that he was not disgusted. There was something else there in his eyes, something she couldn’t place, but it was kind, it was gentle. It looked like, could it possibly be…
“I’m so sorry.”

He stroked the back of her head with his left hand and smiled at her. With his right hand, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her tear streaked cheeks. “You don’t have to be. I understand. And I’m sorry if it seemed like I was angry with you just then because I wasn’t. I’m not. It’s just…it’s just that I’ve finally figured something out. Something that has been eating away at me for a long time but it didn’t become clear until just now, just this very moment.”

She waited for him to continue. His eyes dropped to the ground for just a second and then came back to focus on hers. “See…I’ve been denying something to myself because I didn’t want to let myself believe it. But I can’t fight it anymore and I don’t know what to do about it.” He shook his head as he searched for the right words to continue. “I love my wife. I really do. I cannot imagine doing anything ever to hurt her in any way. We’ve shared a lifetime together already and I cherish every single moment of my life that I have spent with her. But…”again he looked at the floor. Without looking back up at her, he said, “…but I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s like I can’t get you out of my mind. No matter what, and I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. And I thought maybe, I know this is horrible to say, but I thought that maybe with all that’s happened, with my mom…”he broke off, swallowed hard and continued, “with everything else, I thought that maybe it would go away. That maybe I’d find that connection again with her that I seem to have lost. But I knew, the moment you walked in that room and looked at me, I knew it was hopeless.” Finally he looked at her again and they both waited, seeing if the moment would hold itself in time.

“I know that I’m in love with you. And I don’t know what to do.”

She couldn’t say anything, didn’t want to. But she felt like she needed to. Before she could say anything, he spoke again. “I’ve gone over and over it so many times…when I try to ignore it, or pretend it isn’t happening…I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I can’t concentrate on anything.”

She smiled wryly, “Sounds like you’ve got a cold. Take some Nyquil. It’ll pass.”

Very seriously, he looked at her, grabbing both of her shoulders in his hands, his face just inches from hers, “This is no joke! It’s tearing me apart. I don’t want to hurt anyone but no matter what, someone is going to get hurt!” She could hear in his voice that he was struggling not to cry. She wanted to say something to comfort him but her mind was a blank. Suddenly, without warning, he pulled her to him, kissing her with such force, such passion, so much anguish that she couldn’t breathe. His arms wrapped around her and she in turn clung to him helplessly. She knew what he was going through, knew his pain and frustration because she felt it too. This was impossible, this situation, yet she was helpless to fight it. The kiss ended as abruptly as it had begun and they sat there, in the hall, clinging to each other, grief and pain uniting them together in this moment when the world stopped and there was only the two of them.

This is based on a very strange dream I had last night. I was thinking about it this morning while I was sitting here and doing my boring work. I wanted to see if I could "write" it and I think I did a pretty good job...thoughts?

My Little Slice Of Heaven

Lil Update

Movin' On Up...

A Year In The Life

Come Together...Right Now...

Time Is On My Side

One Last Kiss Before I Go

ut2m

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Mostly for me...but for any other LJ drama hounds out there...

One Of Us...One Of Us...

Wanna Be Startin’ Sumpin’ *Grabs Crotch* Hee! Hee!

Submitted For Your Consideration...Part 2

Submitted For Your Consideration...Part 1

Jesus H Christ OnA Popsicle Stick!

I'm A Loser Baby...

Dust In The Wind

Worked Hard All My Life With No Help From My Friends...

My Friends All Drive Porsches I Must Make Amends...

Oh Lord, Woncha Buy Me A Mercedes Benz...

PSA

WTF?

Artistic License....

Wanna Be Startin’ Sumpin’ Grabs Crotch Hee! Hee!