Happy Tuesday, y’all. This week, you get a retro-sounding song, ’cause I’m feelin’ extra sassy. It’s Bye Bye Baby by The Detroit Cobras. Go ahead and tap your feet along, you deserve it. 
Hope you have a great day!
This weekend was the best weekend I’ve had in months and months. Boy, did I need it, too. Between the endless homework, frustrations with the bureaucratic bullshit, and Big J being sick (he had tonsilitis, but is now better), I was completely stressed. Oh, I’m still pretty stressed, but the opportunity to let loose was fully welcomed.
Big J was home from school Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, so I ended up not keeping Senor Fussypants Friday. I spent the entire day cleaning the house – scrubbing the bathtub, sinks, toilets, vacuuming, sweeping, and washing dishes. Trust me, it was a big task. For a house with three adults, I’m just a bit disgruntled that I’m the only person who does these things. I’m pretty sure no one else has washed even one dish in the last month. I digress. Friday night, Little J went to a birthday party/sleepover, and I hung out with Scooter at his house and watched movies.
On Saturday, my most favoritest cousin ever, Dave, drove into town. He’s visiting from Santa Barbara for a couple of weeks and staying with his mom in Chicago. He’s our favorite (mine and my sister’s) because even though he’s 15 years older than I and 17 years older than she, he used to take us to do things when we were kids. The movies, the beach, the pool, he treated us like friends and not like annoying little kids. Many a childhood summer memory includes Dave.
He ended up not getting here until late afternoon, so we ended up all going to dinner at the Irish pub downtown – Mom, Dave, the boys, and me. It was delicious, and even though Little J was falling asleep (after staying up all night at the sleepover), we all had a good time. Dave, Sis and I had talked about going out somewhere that night, and they were going to have live music at the pub, so the plan was that we’d just go there. However, the place is popular, and I knew that if we left and came back, we’d lose our table. Mom ended up taking the boys home (YAY Mom!), and Sis came and met us. The music wasn’t great, but we talked and laughed and drank for a couple of hours, and it was great. Sis then decided she wanted to do karaoke. I texted some folks to find out where to go, and we headed over. However, when we got there, we pretty much walked in, looked around, and decided that was NOT the place for us. We ended up going and getting a margarita instead. All in all, it was a great night, and I wish Dave lived closer!
Highlights included:
*Dave telling us about the Taiwanese lady he met (she can’t be over 25) who wants to date him and suggested they get a hotel room when he comes back so he can “research” her body.
*Talking about our Granny, and how she used to cook with a cigarette on her mouth, and how she would talk with said cigarette in her mouth and it would go up and down.
*Talking in Granny’s voice, and saying things like, “Taste of it. Ya might oughtta like it.”
*Talking about music.
*Dave telling us a creepy UFO story.
*Teasing Dave about the time he took us to the movies and the concession person thought we were his daughters.
*Getting drunk and laughing a lot.
*Trying to say “he got shpielkis in his ganectagazoink” (approximate spelling) while drunk and laughing a lot. (Anyone get the reference?)
Oh, and for those of you who aren’t on facebook – my new alias is Fanci Worthington. It just rolls off the tongue, no? For the record, that is someone’s real name.
Once Dave was on his way back to Chicago yesterday, the rest of the evening/night was spent doing math homework. Yes, all night was spent working on 30 math problems. Ugh. Does someone want to explain to me why I need to know how to factor numbers with exponents and variables, anyway?
Back to the grind, and feelin’ behind. It’s all good, though.
P.S. I have a date this weekend!
This is so horrible, so awful. I wanted to write about it, but can’t seem to find the right words.
The person who did this was a MENTAL HEALTH doctor, someone who is supposed to first do no harm, to help his fellow soldiers when they are in theater, and when they return home.
This person went to the most populated area of one of the most populated military bases in the United States and opened fire because he was upset over his impending deployment. 30 wounded and 13 dead. He is alive and being protected in the hospital by soldiers. Could you imagine being the soldier charged with that duty?
While I don’t personally know anyone who is currently stationed at Fort Hood, this hits home hard. My children have, for the most part, been raised on military bases. We know many military families. I would venture to guess that most of you who read this blog know at least one person serving. It’s all so horrifying when anyone does something like this, but a doctor?
What a waste of a human life.
I got some terrible news on Monday. Not terrible as in someone’s going to die or anything, but terrible all the same.
You see, I went to go visit my academic advisor Monday afternoon – the man who has advised me on which classes to take for the past year now. Now, I don’t flatter myself that he actually knows and remembers me every time, because for all of the students in the School of Education (program for future teachers), there are only two advisors – one for elementary education majors, and one for secondary. You have to schedule appointments at least a month in advance, and even then it’s likely that you’ll be waiting in the office for at least thirty minutes after your scheduled appointment. It’s always a madhouse in that office.
I knew from my own advising sheet (which is kind of a checklist of classes) that I had about a year and a half left before I’d get my degree. That had me set to graduate in the summer of 2011 (which, I might add, is a whole year later than the estimate the same adivsor gave me when I was transferring and trying to choose my major), and even though it still seemed like a long way away, I had a date, something to look forward to. I went into the meeting expecting him to reiterate that I would, indeed, graduate in 2011 and let me know what order my last handful of classes should be (some are only offered in spring, some only in fall).
He started to look at my file, and looked worried. “This isn’t good,” I thought. And it wasn’t. He drew up two possible paths I could take. One involved taking 15 or more credit hours in the spring (which would be difficult, but not impossible), needing special permission from the dean of the education department to take two methods courses simultaneously, taking and passing the PRAXIS I exam before spring semester starts, and finishing and turning in a student teaching packet. All of these things I would gladly do. The second path had me finishing up the remaining English/Lit classes (of which there are 5) and one math class next semester, then completing all of the methods classes over the next four semesters, which would mean 2 semesters where there were only 2 classes I needed (because some are only offered in spring, some in fall). It would also mean a whole other goddamned year of school.
I was shaken, but decided I was just going to suck it up, get the shit taken care of and get the hell out as fast as I could. The first step was calling the dean to set up an appointment. He wasn’t in his office, so I left a message, then called to schedule my PRAXIS exam. I was on hold for close to 20 minutes, but got my appointment for the first of December, and would get my results three or four weeks before the start of the spring semester. On the right track. I didn’t hear from the dean, so went to his office three times yesterday, each time he wasn’t there. He finally called me yesterday evening at about 5 and frankly, was a complete ass. When I told him what my advisor had said and told me to ask, he treated me like an idiot because I didn’t know which methods class was what by the number. Uh…ok. Then, he told me he wouldn’t give me permission to take the two classes together because “it wasn’t done that way” and that I should have known that from my advising sheet. Uh…what? My ADVISOR told me to ask you these questions, you big jerk!
So, with that, my hopes were dashed. I won’t be graduating until 2012. I will be in school a whole extra year because one man wouldn’t give one student an exception to take two classes together. Can you believe that a whole year depended on TWO classes? ARGGGGGGGGGGGH!
Fucking school. I am so frustrated and defeated right now. I came in to this university with over 70 credits already, and by the time I’m done, will have gone full-time for 3 and a half years. I want it to be over, I want to be able to leave this place with my boys. A whole other year, spinning my wheels.
Ack! It’s already Tuesday again. There’s some school stuff a-brewin’, but I’ll save that for tomorrow. This week you get Al Green. Oooh yeah, baby.
Hope y’all have a great day.
Halloween in Gingerland was tiring, but lots of fun.
It started off with a seminar for 8th graders and their parents to decide which high school to go to next year. There are 4 different high schools in our area, each with a different focus for students. It’s daunting and really, what kid knows what they want to be when they’re in 8th grade?! I know there are a few people who always know what they’re going to be when they grow up, but dang! We’ve narrowed it down to two and are going to attend the open houses to get more information before deciding. I’m not old enough to have a son going into high school next year. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!
Big J had asked if he could go hang out with a girl(space)friend while I took Little J trick or treating (between the hours of 5 and 7), and once I’d talked to her parents and been assured that they would be present and keeping an eye on the kids, I told him he could go. I drove him over and got back right at 5 to an antsy Little J telling me it was time! to! go! Here’s what the boys looked like, including little Senor Fussypants, who came over to visit.
Little J and I walked around the neighborhoods with a couple of other kids and another mom. It was flippin’ cold as could be here! The kids had fun, and we saw some great costumes. This was pretty ingenious, too. They had a paper towel roll coming through the plastic and used it as a chute for the candy when the kids came up.
Once trick or treating was over and Big J was home, it was time to get ready for the grown up stuff! A friend of mine from school invited me to a party, and I invited along my friend Scooter, who dressed up as Dexter Morgan. All you Dexter-philes, this is for you…
What did I dress up as? I was a retro housewife, complete with heels, stockings, apron, pearls, feather duster, and kerchief. The damn scarf kept slipping out of my hair all night, but it was worth it.
We stayed at the party a few hours, then went to a bar in town to listen to some of Scooter’s friends’ band. They’re a cover band with a badass girl singer. It was fun times, especially when the completely drunk lady kept trying to get me to dance with her and doing the whole, “you, me, me you” thing before getting up onstage and bending over in front of the drummer to show him her ass. There were lots of ladies wearing “sexy” costumes, and only maybe 2 of them had any business doing so, one of which was our waitress who was dressed as Officer Naughty. She worked it! We sang along and drank and laughed all night and didn’t get home till after 2am.
All in all, a super fun Halloween.
How was yours? Did you dress up? What was the best costume you saw all night?
Not MY dad, but Dad from Dad’s House. P’sha. I give you my tattoo. Yes, it’s a crappy picture, but YOU try taking a picture of your own back. I dare ya!
Why yes, I am wearing pajamas. And yes, my ass is resting on the counter. Why, you ask? Because that’s just how I roll, bitches.
The other day, I came across this post by Big Little Wolf. I found it interesting, and she seemed curious about tattooing and why people do it. I was surprised, however, when I read the comments. Out of 12 commenters, I was the only one who had ever gotten a tattoo. One of them in particular was very outspoken and to be honest, ticked me off just a bit. Ah well, to each their own. Still, I couldn’t believe that no one else had been inked.
In general, tattoos don’t bother me. In this day and age, most people my age don’t even bat an eyelash at them anymore. I wouldn’t say that they’re necessarily a turn-on, but they sure as shit can be. I got my first tat when I was 18, and really only did it because I had turned 18 and didn’t smoke, and lottery tickets never brought me much fun. I’d wanted a tattoo ever since I could remember, and I was finally able to do it! I thought long and hard about where the placement would be. I wanted it to be concealable, and I wanted to be original, so I went with the small of my back. Stay with me, here. Waaay back in 1998, I didn’t know anyone with a tattoo there. This was pre-tramp-stamp (I HATE that term) mania. All the women I knew who had them had them on their ankles or shoulders. I was safe in my non-conformity, right? Go ahead and laugh…I am. Next, I had to decide what to get. I wanted it to be delicate and ladylike, and I wanted it to be small. After looking at tons of pictures, I decided on a butterfly (yes, cliche numero dos, or is that tres?). The bottom wings were blue and the top were red, and it was cute and tiny and exactly what I had wanted. It was right on my back bone, as I was as skinny as a rail at the time, and it hurt like a mofo, but I did it. And I loved it.
I never regretted my decision to get the tattoo, not even when my daddy saw it by accident one day during a visit home. Since I didn’t see it all the time, I would sometimes forget it was there. When my husband and I split, I was inconsolible. In one of those “woman done gone crazy” kind of moments that happen during/after divorce, I decided that I would change my butterfly into something else. I would start fresh. I already knew what the butterfly would become – a Texas. Yes, the shape of the state of Texas. No matter where in the world I lived or visited, Texas was the place that was safe, it was always home. So, when my little sister came to visit and help me pack, we made a trip to the tattoo parlor and I went home with a different mark. Oddly enough, it was the exact same place I had gotten my butterfly etched 10 years before. I say odd because that city had been our first post after we got married, and it was also where we got divorced. We’d lived in 3 other states in between, but ended up right back there.
Now there’s the question of whether or not tattoos turn you on. To be honest, it depends on the person, what the tattoo is of, and whether or not is well-done. A shitty tattoo can be distracting, people! Douche had two tattoos that I hated. I wasn’t with him when he got either, and trust me – I would have tried to talk him out of them if I were. They always bugged me. Of the guys I’ve been with post-divorce, only one was tatted up, all on his arms, but not full sleeve. All of his tattoos were very well-done, and they fit his look (50’s greaser/rockabilly type). He had pin-up girls on his forearms, and they were HOT. I even named them, Lola and Gretchen. I would trace them and admire them, they were beautiful. That’s Lola, below. However, I wasn’t into him because of his tattoos, and the other non-tatted guys weren’t any less sexy or hot because they didn’t have them. In fact, when one told me he was thinking of getting one, I secretly hoped he wouldn’t.
I did some research and asked a former lover what he thought about my tattoo, to which he said, “it’s tasteful,” and also that, “tramp stamps are hot, arm tattoos are not.” Do I feel like I am more sexy because of my tattoo? No, I don’t. Do I think I’d be more sexy without it? Nope. It’s just a small part of me, a little scrap of skin barely 2 inches square, but it’s still a part of me.
This is where YOU come in, my lovies. Do you have any tattoos? What/where are they? Do you regret having them? Do you find them a turn-on? Turn-off? Would you date someone with tattoos or dismiss someone for them? Inquiring minds want to know!
***UPDATE*** The link to the post was broken, but should be fixed now. Sorry about that!
Another week, another week closer to the end of the semester, and Halloween is this weekend! WOOHOO!
This week, you get Ben Harper and – as a bonus – Rosey Grier singing a song from Free to be You and Me that’s been kicking around in my noggin.
Hope y’all have a great Tuesday. Also, feel free to share your favorite music here, too.
Another quiet night. Well, technically morning. Boo to that, I say. Boo!
Every year around this time, I usually go on a horror/thriller spree and let myself get scared silly, but this year has been too busy to get much terror time. I did, however, get to go out to see Paranormal Activity Friday night, and OH BOY it did the trick. I ended up meeting up with a guy I know from school, and it was really fun being scared…until I got home and was alone. You know that feeling that something’s going to grab your ankle if you get too close to the bed? Yeah, it was kind of like that. Guess I should give y’all a little review of it, so here goes:
Throughout most of the movie, I was kind of just waiting for it to scare me. Other people in the theater were WAY overreacting to little things, so that made it funny. It did eventually start being frightening, though, and by the end I was practically in my friend’s lap because I just KNEW something bad was going to happen. A few people walked out before the end. I think they built the suspense very well, but I also think it wouldn’t be half as scary viewed outside of a dark theater with surround sound and the nervous energy of a hundred other people. If you like to be scared and believe in ghosts/spirits/demons/poltergeists, it’ll probably be your cup of tea. If you’re one of those people who gets a boner from slasher films, you won’t like it at all. Overall, I think it was a good scare. I was shaking as I drove home (I was alone, shuddup), and I found it very difficult to sleep that night (with the lights on, alone…shuddup).
The rest of the weekend was spent babysitting Senor Fussypants so his parents could go out, homework, and shuttling the boys to various activities. I lead a jetsetting life, I tell ya.
So, do any of you have any good ghost stories/paranormal experiences? Spill, spill, spill!
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