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Doin' the time to get the dime. Her Momma did NOT raise her to drink cheap champagne.

May 09, 2004

Sunday Night After I Poured My First Glass of Wine at 10:30 am

Listy listy, let's go listy.

1.) It's a bizarre feeling really.

2.) My husband is only home for the blink of an eye. I thought I would be all right until I broke into hysterical sobs today after I woke up, which, if you know me, I hated. ARGH, sometimes I'd rather be a guy and just manifest emotion in complete and utter assholeness. Whoever said God is a woman was wrong. There is no voice for my fear, uncertainty.

3.) I have no work tomorrow. No work tomorrow. No. Work. Tomorrow. NO MOTHERFUCKING WORK TOMORROW! No nose picking, no songs about farting and very farting, no dirty hands, no copped feels. Just me and the glorious hours of the day. Happy, happy, joy, joy. *ahem* Thank you, Ren and Stimpy.

4.) I am 10 days away from finishing my Master's Program. Something I have done since we got over here. I just keep wondering what the hell I'll do with myself. Think I blog too much now? Just you wait! Yippee! Although, Momma's a little territorial with her computer. Wanna stop by? To get me high?

5.) I don't want to be one of those blogs. I started out reading all these blogs, and honestly they just infuriate me and piss me off. I just want to yell, "Say something nice today! Something erudite!" I don't want you to quote some motherfucking Shakespeare. I just want you to revel in something. I don't care if it's a fucking Brazilian bikini wax. Just enjoy your fucking life. For once. Wah, wah, wah, me. Allow. Me. To. Reiterate. Don't want to be that whiny bitch blog. Although I suppose by admitting this, I am a whiny bitch?

6.) I love: stepping off the plane in Saipan and sucking the air into my lungs. It's almost water. Diving off the boat in Palau into the clear blue. Warmth, wholeness of floating upside down and backwards. I felt untouched. Burying my head in the crook of DH's neck. When Pearl Jam sang, "I swear, I recognize your breath..." I was so taken by that lyric, but didn't know why. Every time he exhales over my neck, it smells like home. Without the picket fence and two kids and dog. It smells like skin. Like safe. Stoned afternoons with Jason Cuevas in New Orleans. They were rare, like finding those flat smooth rocks. A past life for me, teacher that I am now, role model, but those 2 afternoons, that couch, those cushions, that shotgun house. The chips. MMMMM. The comfortable silences with my friends. Most recently observed with CT over airport food. Slurping noodles, sipping beer and coke (him AND me). *DING* United...ensconced in our own bubble of quiet and comfort. There aren't many like that out there. Sharing dinner at Red Lobster with Momma. The whitest trash of white trash restaurants in Upstate New York, but we roll in the lobster, the shrimp, the crab. I watch her lick her fingers out of the corner of my eye and stifle a gurgle of happiness in my throat as I jump into my own entree. She catches my eye and gleams. I grin back, mouth full of food. She is my mom. My Dad's e-mails. The steady voice over the miles reminding me that just because I can't see it, doesn't mean it is not there.

7.) I went to dinner on Friday. I tried to take a picture of the menu, but the flash whited out the picture. My entree? Drunken shameless shrimp in brazen sauce. Best damn thing I've ever tasted. Well, pretty damn close, anyway.

8.) Driving to the airport? CT and I saw a car. It was white, kind of family wagonish shapey. We drove up and I read the print. SWEET CAMEL. In big red letters. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I thought. "CT, speed up, speed up! I have to read the fine print!" And as we whizzed by the car, we both caught the slogan in entirety:

Jeans for the agressive young woman.

The implications of which are just simply too much to explore. If I could find a pair of those jeans here, you know I'd wear the hell ouf of them. Just for shits and giggles. Maybe I could start a trend like Nelly's Applebottoms. Subtlety is overrated.

9.) I received a violet from a student. I am afraid I will kill it. Please don't make me post pictures of our dying Christmas Tree. I am a murderer. Is it worse to kill it slowly at a time, or do I just stop watering all together? I can't bear to do that. I almost talked to it.

10.) I want to laugh so hard that I feel like I'm going to pee in my pants. Or I feel like my face is going to break.

11.) Is it a Monday if you don't have to work?

on May 10, 2004 03:29 PM Simon said:

It's important to vent.

on May 11, 2004 12:42 AM Ted said:

Entertaining, don't forget entertaining too!

on May 11, 2004 10:37 PM Alex. said:


It is important to vent! I don't want to stereotype myself. Would I still be appealing to the masses if I was sugary sweet and wore Powerpuff girls T-shirts? HMMM....

on May 11, 2004 10:38 PM Alex. said:


Hee! Entertaining! I used to make my parents and sing shows to them with a wooden spoon. I was CUT OUT for this!

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