"I don't think I could ever stab someone. I mean, let's be honest. I can barely get the straw in the Capri Sun."

Mom & Dad have made their migration northward (they're birds) so of course I had a dream about mom dying.  I regaled the office with it this morning and while it was traumatic for me, apparently my telling of it was hilarious because people were doubled-over laughing.  I won't traumatize you with all the details because there are a lot, but I will say Mom experienced some pretty severe trauma caused by a blizzard-wind and was bashed along the sidewalk (face down) for quite a ways.  A co-worker (who just happened to be there? *head shake*) held Mom and said, "She's dead" to which I responded in my most adamant voice "No She Is Not" and with that, Mom gasped in some air and survived.  I woke up at Midnight wondering if my mom was alive or dead.  I was traumatized.  Co-workers thought it was hilarious (because there's a lot more to the telling, but like I said, I won't bore you with the details).

I googled all the major facets of the dream: wind, blizzard, death of mom.  Wind means I'm free.  *eye roll*  Blizzard means I'm feeling emotionally cold and frigid and that I feel excluded and left out; it may also indicate a lack of love and the absence of warmth.  *sigh*  Death of mom means I'm feeling neglected; that she's unresponsive to my needs; that I'm not feeling any compassion or emotion from the mother-figure in my life.

Seriously.

The woman's been home one day and I already feel neglected.  LMAO, sorry Mom!

I swear, I think people create those "dream interpretation" sites and just bullshit their way through.  "Oh, this sounds good!"  Asshats. I think I'd just seen my mother (& father) for the first time in months and at a funeral no less and so my subconscious was simply processing the event(s) of the day.  It just regurgitates images, etc. from the day so we don't all go crazy.

Whatever.

So, today I buzzed one of the attorney's about a client who has called often and the attorney mutters, "Jesus Christ.....sorry, sorry, I know you're religious..." to which I almost bust out laughing, but all I managed to get out of my mouth was, "No".  I mean, I get it.  I worked for a church for almost 7 years.  My dad is a retired pastor.  I have a cross tattoo on my arm.  So yeah, I can see how people would assume that.  I can't stop thinking how wrong that attorney is......

I don't really tote a gun around...can you imagine if I did? :) 

On a happier note, my tattoo is healing nicely.  Tuesday night it was as if my skin was shedding....only it was all black and gross.  But that part is almost done and while it itches like a bitch, it's worth it.  Though not being able to take a bath until it heals.....that's almost a deal breaker.

My love life is......what?  I don't know. Complicated.  Sex is great with one. I'm ga-ga over another who probably isn't interested in me at all.  How is it this always happens to me?  I'm not a teenager any more.  I shouldn't get ga-ga over anyone, least of all someone who doesn't like my short hair.

*sigh* I don't know what to do with myself....but I'm certainly entertaining!

"People with tattoos are way more fun to see naked."

Is that true?

I SURE HOPE SO!!

It took 3 hours 45 minutes.  It didn't start to hurt until hour 2.  Then it felt like my skin was on fire (which it was, I guess) and didn't stop feeling like she was holding a blow torch to me until it was finally over.

I didn't pass out.  I didn't throw up.  What could I throw up? I hadn't eaten all day until Meatloaf gave me his Reese's Peanut Butter Egg, which I will forever be thankful.  I did, however, feel incredibly nauseous.  Probably because my stomach was vibrating from the constant needle pricks.

Ladies, you know the one minute the doctor has the speculum inside you and scrapes around in there and you have to remind yourself to "Breathe....just breathe...."  This was like that only it lasted for 225 minutes instead of 1. Oooh, boy, but it was so worth it!

Shout out to Jesi @ American Tattoo in the Big O.  I'd lay down on a table any day for her.

"You look like I could use a sip of moonshine."

Who makes moonshine, these days?  I mean, I'm a DIY-er, but come on. Just go to the store and buy your booze like a normal person.  I hear "moonshine" and instantly I imagine hillbillies in shacks up in the mountains, living without indoor plumbing and electricity.

Or like my dad's uncle? Great-uncle? Can't remember his name so I'm pretty sure I've never met him (or if I did, I've repressed it like a normal person should).  I even called my brother to get this guy's name, but while he vividly remembers his visit, my brother couldn't remember his name.  Dad, help me out here.  You know who I'm talking about.  Hillbilly relative. Lives in some shack with no plumbing or electricity.  Eccentric. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

But, back to moonshine.  A guy dropped off a mason jar of Apple Pie Moonshine to one of the attorney's the other day and most of the staff were chatting with the moonshiner (who's a banker, btw) and joking that we should pass it around before giving it to the attorney....and while I'm laughing and carrying on and being funny, in the back of my mind I'm going through every excuse I've got in the book to not take a drink and still come off.....cool.  Cool? Who gives a shit if I'm cool.  No, that wasn't it.  How could I refuse and keep my alcoholism a secret?  That's it.

Luckily, I didn't have to because god-forbid we do anything to upset one of the attorneys.  *eye roll*  AND, I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to take even a sip.

I was mostly worried it'd make me go blind.  And....gross.  He probably made it in his bathtub. Ew.

So 4 years and 7 months and still going strong.  Yeah me.

What else has happened this past week? I have no idea.  I can't even remember what I did today, let alone anything beyond that.  I do know I finished a great book - "The Killing Lessons" by Saul Black.  One of the best I've read in a long time.  And I'm finishing up "Heart Shaped Box" by Joe Hill.  Another keeper.  And I was reminded why I don't buy anything online....because I end up having to go to the store to return it and get what fits anyway.

I've done something (um, punching bag maybe?) to my left hand so it's swollen and I can't make a fist very well, but I'm still whaling on that punching bag like it's a co-workers face because I'm eating M&M's like it's the end of the world and they might disappear.  So, something's gotta give.  I doubt it'll be the M&M's.  I've got big plans Saturday so be prepared for a new post that evening or Sunday.  And right now, I'm just hoping the big trees outside my house withstand the strong winds tonight and don't come crashing into my house....though Survivor's over, so I don't really care what happens because I got my episode in.  I'm not looking forward to wearing "regular" shoes tomorrow because of SNOW instead of my sandals.  My feet don't like being caged once set free.

That's it in a nutshell.

Oh, I was thinking last Friday night that my sex-partner and I should just get married.  I mean, basically keep everything the way it is, but I'm not getting any younger and who's going to want me next month, next year, when I'm 50?  How am I going to get sex then? It's hard enough now at 40! So I was feeling like I should "lock it in".   And then I got my period and I haven't seen him in a week and I'm totally paranoid that he's already moved on and maybe I should get back on OKCupid to find my next sex-partner.....so, yeah, marriage? Not gonna happen, but I bet that gave you a good chuckle.

Wow. Look at me adulting all over the place.

I'm becoming a regular goddamn Bob Villa.

Do kids know who Bob Villa is nowadays?  I'm guessing not if I have to use the word "nowadays" in reference to him.  Sad.

If I had known how easy (& cheap) it was to replace the disgusting toilet seat that's been here since the dawn of time, I would have done it first thing.  No matter how much I cleaned that thing, it still had chips, paint splatters (pink, of course) and god-knows-what-else on it.

But not now!!!

*sigh* It's the little things in life.

"It's like a nightmare that never ended. I wouldn't wish this on anybody." - Sam Lockhart

I want to start by saying how incredibly good I've felt....for quite awhile, honestly.  I keep thinking, "This has to end at some point. Nobody can feel this good for this long."  I say the same thing about being horny, because, seriously.  If this is what regular men feel like on a regular basis, I feel a much deeper empathy than I did previously.

However, I'm not crazy horny like I have been the last two months, so maybe that is waning a bit.  Thank you, whatever dark force is bringing my libido in to check because I was getting a bit concerned.

Back to feeling good....that hasn't waned.  How can that be?

Granted, I'm sitting here at 2:51AM, having been woken up at 2AM by a horrific nightmare, keeping my eyes closed to analyze what the hell just happened, thinking "there's something else....", opening my eyes and seeing naked-Garfield.  "Oh yeah, there's that...."

And what's this about?

Garfield - 2AM - Geez, she's ugly

It's a bit too reminiscent of this

Elvis in the days-before-death

Is this some kind of pose cats do when they're not feeling well? Or *gasp* dying?  I'm pretty sure my "feeling-good" will drastically change if Garfield dies after being shaved.  I mean, that's like me dying after my hairdresser "accidentally" gives me a mohawk.  Shit like that is not supposed to happen.

So....wake up from a nightmare and see Garfield laying the same way Elvis did before he died.....does not bode well.

BUT!  this was to be a post about feeling good...or something like that.

Keep that in mind: I'm in a good place.  I'm healthy.  I'm mentally strong.  I'm physically strong-ish.  I'm at, quite possibly, the top of my game - emotionally, socially, (not quite physically), mentally, whatever-"ally" you can think of.

So two days ago, when I heard a person talking about me (yelling, because subtle she ain't), and my response was to smile and loudly say, "Are you talking about me?", I did it from a good place. I wasn't even mad about it - I mostly just thought it was funny.  Like, seriously? I'm 20 feet away and you're yelling and you don't think everyone in the office can't hear you? Come on. You can't be that dense.

Funny? Yeah.

But when said person denied it and got defensive and yelled even more and then muttered at her desk (which is, lol, on the other side of my cubicle wall, mind you) "must have a guilty conscience...", you can bet your ass I called her on her bullshit about that.  I laughed and said, "I don't have a guilty conscience" and when another staff person gave me a quizzical look about my comment I said, "That's what she just said....like I can't hear her..."

And through it all, I'm smiling and laughing and yeah, my adrenaline rushed because I hate conflict, but really! I wasn't trying to cause conflict! I was just calling this person out on her really shitty behavior which nobody - ever, apparently - has called her out on.  I mean, come on! You can't be your age and not know you're fucking mean.  Someone at some point has told you, you're crazy.  You just chose to ignore it.  Good for you!  But maybe there comes a time in your life....say, after puberty....when you increase your emotional IQ.  Just a few notches.

I'm still laughing about it.  What a fucktard.

So, this all happens and I simply go about my day (because she did deny the initial accusation, which I don't believe at all but I'll give her a pass on this one because it's only Strike Two.  One more strike and she's fucking out, though...).  I'm smiling, laughing, cracking jokes with the other staff, doing a good job, being helpful, still communicating respectfully with the staff person who thinks I'm deaf, and all is right with my world.  Because I'm in a good place.

If this had happened - and I'm sure it did - at the church when I was struggling, the result would have been seriously different.  I say, a lot, "this place is going to drive me to drink" but it isn't going to and I'm not really serious about that.  I know I'm not going to drink....or I know as much as I can know.  However, I do believe a person can only take so much before cracking....and I'm sure I'm about one step away from cracking.

It's a damn good thing I bought that punching bag because it brings me immense joy.  I catch myself after a really good repetition of punches, my arms like jello, my hands burning, out of breath, sweat dripping down my face.....smiling.  Smiling!  It feels so good.  And I'm going to do all I can to hold onto this - whatever the fuck this is - this good feeling for as long as I can.

So what do you do to chase away your nightmares?

"I said a trim!"

Garfield before:

Look at all that fur!

But not anymore!

omg, look at that tail!

I. Cannot. Stop. Laughing.

Look at her little "booty" paws!

Awww, she still loves me...

I'd finally had it with her poopy butt and fighting with her to clean it.  So now you know: Keep your ass clean, or I'm going to shave it!

I have more to blog about but right now I just want to cuddle with Garfield because, I gotta say, while she's butt-ugly, she feels amazing!!!!

"My head says, 'Who cares?' But then my heart whispers, 'You do, stupid'".

*sigh*

What is love? Can anyone tell me?  And no sappy quotes. What is love? To you?

As you know, my body has been going through some weird sexual change and as Russell Brand said, "I thought I was promiscuous.  Turns out I was just being thorough."  Yeah, me, too, Russell.  Me, too.  And then the ex and I started "seeing" each other, for lack of a better term and to save all of you from hearing me say I got laid over & over again.  Sorry, couldn't help myself there.  And it's been great. Great!

But only because I'm being completely selfish and am not afraid to say, "Naw, I just want to wallop on my punching bag tonight" or "I've got too much to do tonight" or "Get the hell over here right now.....and then leave" or on another night "Stay".  He has his space and I very clearly have mine.  And I'm content with that.  In my world, that's the perfect relationship.  Together.....but not.

However, we had a talk the other night because, like an idiot, I said to him, "This thing, whatever it is, isn't very fair to you.  What if your soul mate comes into your life and you say, "Sorry, can't, I'm doing Amy right now".  Um, not fair. Totally not fair.  And he wants more.  More, more, more.  He wants marriage and maybe a kid (um, gettin' a little old there, aren't we?) and I don't want either of those things. Do I? Do I?

That discussion made me immensely, undeniably sad.  Sad.  So the next night I asked him to stay.  And then he kept me up all night because he snores like a freight train and no matter how many times I woke him up to tell him to "Roll over, goddammit!", the snoring continued and I didn't sleep and I realized....This. This right here is why I can't be with him.  I would kill him in his sleep. For snoring.

Worse. I want to do worse. 

And then I think about my parents.  Mom hasn't killed Dad....yet....and she's listened to him snore for 45 years. Jesus.  FORTY-FIVE YEARS!  Can that be right?  It's no wonder she was/is an insomniac.  How can you sleep with that?  A noise maker.  Now I know why she lugs that thing around with her everywhere she goes.  Drown out the man snoring like a bear next to her.

So here I sit. Indecisive. Again.  Do I? Don't I? I love him and I hate him simultaneously.  Is that possible? For me, apparently, it is.  He makes me happy when we're together.....and when we're apart.  At least when we're apart, I get a good night's sleep and I know I won't go away for murder.

Here's what I know absolutely: I don't have to make any kind of decision tonight.  Tonight is for resting my arms after whaling on my new punching bag for 45 minutes because I'm sick & tired of mean bosses, reading the good book I haven't been able to read the past two nights, and falling asleep early....to the absence of snoring.