Dreaming of the BlogHer Conference

So I've been pondering how I could pull of going to the BlogHer Conference in Santa Clara, CA at the end of the month. I found out that I can fly to Sacramento for only $133.00 (if I book SOON,) I think I can pull off taking the time off from my glamorous waitressing job, I would really like to go! But, I think I may be pondering a bit too hard.

Last night I had a dream that I was at the conference. But for some reason, my mother lived there. We were all staying with my mom; Pissy, Kristine, a whole bunch of people. It was the night before the conference and we were all hanging out at my Mom's house, it was a BIG party.

The Sarcastic Journalist arrived.
She brought her baby.
Then she left.
And left her baby.
With ME!

Now, I'm fine with babies, I have had a bit of experience in that department; but I was little put off that she left her sleeping baby with me to watch while she took off to go God knows where. She said that she would meet us at the conference at noon the next day and that I could bring the baby with me there to return to her. She left bottles and instructions. I remember saying to someone, "I don't know if I remember how to mix up formula," but then I remembered that it was one scoop of powder to every two ounces of water."

Then, she called the next morning and said that nothing good was going to happen at the conference THAT day and she would just show up the next day. I have NO idea where she was, but she was completely content leaving her baby with me to take care of. Luckily, in the dream, the baby slept the entire time. Which if my memory of babies serves me correctly, that's not usually so much the case.

We were at the conference and I was attending to the baby; someone commented about how cute my baby was. I looked at them and said, "Well, yes, she is cute, but she's not my baby. She's the Sarcastic Journalists baby, she left her with me." At that moment, in my dream, it dawned on me that I was attending to the Sarcastic Journalist's baby and I didn't even know the Sarcastic Journalists, REAL name. Then I said to the person I was speaking to,

"I am SO blogging about this tomorrow."

So from my dream, I have concluded a few things:

If you go to the BlogHer Conference and the Sarcastic Journalist is there, and she has her baby with her; be very cautious if she asks you to look after her.

I really NEED to go to the BlogHer Conference.

I really need to NOT go to the BlogHer Conference.

I need to lay off the mind-altering drugs before bed.

One of the above.

In FINAL conclusion: Although I don't know her at all, I'm sure that the Sarcastic Journalist is a very lovely person and a wonderful mother and would never dream of leaving her precious baby with a complete stranger whom she didn't even know her real name, or write a run-on sentence like the one I am writing now, because afterall, she is a journalist. So please don't judge SJ, her character, or her mothering abilities by my very strange sub-conscious.

No Steel For Me

I will be receiving no Steel today.

No cards will come in the mail.

No romantic dinner or party with friends.

No trip away to the beach

or anywhere else.

Just the memories of the anniversaries before.

The good ones and the bad ones.
The fun ones and the sad ones.
The first one and the last one;
they were the best.

I remember the day that we married.
I remember the day that we divorced.

Both days were filled with apprehension and uncertainty.
Both days are behind me now. Behind us.

It's weird to measure a time in your life with a beginning and an end. Usually people aren't able to do that; it's more fluid and constant, always changing and evolving and flowing through time.

I always knew that there would be a beginning, a middle, and an end to our life together.

That day in Lake Tahoe, when I said those words, I knew.
I knew that was the beginning.

Six years ago; it was the middle.
We celebrated five years of marriage, and we were at a crossroads. I wanted to embrace it, to grow to make it better; but he wanted to ignore it.
He wrote me a poem; it said it all; I knew we were at the middle.

Last year, in my living room, when I said those words, I knew.
I knew we were at the end.
It was a sense, a knowing, another crossroad; but this time it couldn't be ignored.
It was time.

Forever this day will be marked in my mind as a day to remember.
Not be sad, not be glad, just remember.

This year will probably be the hardest.
It's been the hardest year.
Tomorrow is the first day of the next year.
It will be easier.
I believe that.

The Most Boring Fucking Post EVER

Yesterday was a bit of a depressing day. I just couldn't get "happy."
I was irritated and annoyed at just about everything. It wasn't fun,
or pretty.

Unlike my typical depression though, I awoke this morning at 7:15 realizing that my daughters were still asleep and that I could be asleep as well.

Instead of sleeping, I sat in the quiet and contemplated the world.
Not too much of it to overwhelm me, just a little bit.

If I'm feeling particularly depressed, I will wake in the morning dreading the start of the day. That was not the case this morning and I was genuinely eager for the day, but grateful for the peace and quiet of the morning to lay there and do a bit of nothing.

I thought about getting up and blogging, but decided that the comfort of my bed was just a bit too much to leave. I thought about what I would do today; help out at my former LBCG's house and hang with my kiddos, (did that.) I needed to go to the bank, (I didn't,) I needed to make some phone calls, (I didn't,) I SHOULD have done some laundry, (I didn't.)
I did buy $6.50 fabric softener yesterday. For that price, I hope that it blows my mind when I DO use it.

It was fun working at LBCG's house.
It's really looking great.
Today the refrigerator was delivered. The stove and dishwasher was delivered yesterday but the refrigerator wouldn't fit. I had to go to the appliance store and pick out a new one that would fit.
So that came today, and it's starting to look like a house.

I cleaned the kitchen (again.)
Every fucking time The Captain comes over to help paint, she makes a huge fucking mess. I think that she KNOWS that I do the cleaning up and she makes a mess on PURPOSE just to irritate me. Probably not though; she IS a saint, saints don't do shit like that.

I did some painting as well; the upstairs hallway. It looks good.
Pictures will be posted soon on LBCG's site.

Okay,
this is the most boring fucking post ever.

And I've digressed from my depression story.

So yesteday I was feeling depressed.
Today I feel better.
Tomorrow I probably won't.
More of that tomorrow.

Why isn't there anything on television?

Why are there so many reality shows?

My life has enough drama; I don't need to watch anyone elses.

Besides, that's what I have all of YOU for.

Although I had the very best of intentions, this post is NOT going well.

So, I'll end with a quote:

"What seems to be a series of unfortunate events; is just the beginning of a journey."
--Lemony Snicket

Let's hope so.

I have FIVE minutes to blog

Random thoughts:

Congrats to Darcy, for coming out of celibacy.

Hello to one of my co-workers, Pierre, who is not French, who I told about my blog. He says he's not high tech, and I made him have to look for it, but if he found it, hello. Pierre is one of the very nicest of the crazy people that I work with.

My House, is quiet. My Mom took Macy for the weekend. It's weird not having a dog here to greet me.

I wonder how long it will take to stop missing Rudder. I clipped off a piece of his fur; it still smells like him, I smell it every day. I also wonder how long that fur will smell like him.

Good Job to my former Lovely But Confused Girlfriend. Her house project is coming along so nicely. I am so proud of her and of all of the work that she's done. (I helped a teeny, tiny bit.)

I'm off to my glamorous waitressing job for a lovely Sunday double shift. Sunday is the day when all of the crazy people go out to eat, (except for the Mormon's, they stay home on Sunday.)
I'll be there all day, come by and see me!

My FIVE minutes are up!

Mini-Vacation to the Beautiful Oregon Coast

We headed out on Wednesday morning; the girls, my mom and I for a mini-trip to the Oregon coast. Since I was driving through Eugene, a city I've never been to, after living in Oregon since 1992, I thought we should stop. It is, afterall, the home of the University of Oregon and a lot of hippies.

It is also the home to Blu, one of my wonderful blogging friends.

I called Blu to see if she would be able to meet us for lunch. She was free and she directed us to a lovely market place where we had a lovely lunch. Here is a picture of the girls in front of the fountain where we met.

We had a great time with Blu. She is even more lovely in person than she is on her blog or on IM.

The girls really liked her, although they were disapointed that her daughter Nicole was unable to join us. Hopefully next time. Blu lent DD#3 a blue clip for her ever-in-her-eyes bangs. We forgot to return it, (sorry Blu, I'll send you the dollar to replace it...) but DD#3 has worn it every day since and refers to it as the "Blu Clip." Blu, my mom, and I were all wearing black shirts. It was kind of funny. It is a little weird, but in a good way, to meet someone that you already have a "relationship" with on-line. This was my first experience, it was very cool.

After our lovely lunch, we headed out to Florence, Oregon on the coast. It was a BEAUTIFUL day, without a cloud in the sky, although it was a bit windy and chilly.
This was the view from our hotel:

We went out on the windy cold beach.

The girls found a star-fish on the beach.


At dinner, we all ordered PINK drinks. Mine and mom's were of course the adult version!

The next day, we headed out to the Dune Buggy rides. My mom had reserved us the adventure ride for five. Our driver's name was Dennis and he got us all loaded up in the Dune Buggy. We had no idea what to expect.

It was absolutely amazing.
This is the view from where we were, to where we were going to ride on the dunes.
When I imagined Dune Buggy riding, I was thinking we would be riding in ATV's along the coast on the sand. I had NO idea that these types of Dunes existed. It was so fucking cool.

Miles and miles and miles of sand dunes. It was like what you would see in a desert movie, without the heat!

Beautiful!

After our duning trip, we headed North on 101, which runs along the coast. We decided that we would go to Newport and visit the Oregon Coast Aquarium the next day.
Here we are at dinner at Mo's in Newport. They had a cool band playing during our visit there. Two of my girls tried clams for the first time; they liked them!

We arrived at the aquarium the next day:

We saw a lot of sea life. We liked the otters and the sea lions the best. DD#3 was obsessed with making sea lion sounds the rest of the day.

The girls also enjoyed the "touch pool" where they could touch starfish and sea aneonome.

The aquarium was featuring a sea turtle exhibit which was very fun.

On the way home, I stopped at this scenic view called Cape Foulweather.
It was lovely, as you can see:

Our final stop was at a lovely restaurant called the Dundee Bistro where we had a fabulous early dinner and incredible desserts. The waiter took our picture with our chocolate mousse cake and lavender infused creme brulee. Yum!

It was a LOVELY trip (aside from the news about my Pap,) and was just what I needed right now. I feel a bit better, although still quite numb from the week's events.

I'm glad I could share it with all of you.

I'm ready for a new week...

Okay, tomorrow will be one week ago that Rudder died, and I'm officially calling this the last day of a very difficult and stressful week.

Thanks to you all for your warm wishes and sincere condolences. I really have nice friends on the internet...

Now, I just returned from my little mini-trip with my mom and the girls. We left Wednesday morning (my Dad called me Wednesday afternoon to tell me about my Pap,) and returned today.

I knew that I wouldn't be traveling to Pittsburgh for the funeral, so we just stayed on our trip and it was a very nice distraction from the stress of the week.

I'm anxious to share it with you all, I'm going to work on the pictures tonight...

My Pap Died

It's been a week,

that I would like to be over.

My grandfather died today.

He died in his sleep.

He was 88.

My Dad said that it was peaceful, and it was time.

I believe him.

My grandfather's name was Louie. I called him Pap.

He was bald

and short

and nice.

He said things like "Hell no," and "god damn." all of the time.

I hadn't seen him in five years.

Since my last grandparent died.

But I always loved him and he loved me and I remember him as he was when I was a little girl.

He always smelled like auto parts.

He worked in an auto parts store his whole life. It was owned by his brother, Al, who it was rumored was in the mafia. Uncle Al used to give my mother purses that "fell off a truck." We never did anything with THAT side of the family.

My Pap used to take me to Mass that was held in Latin. I never knew what they were saying but I thought it was beautiful.

My grandparents always had glass candy dishes filled with gum drops and Circus Peanuts. Their house was always filled with fun things to explore, usually stuff we weren't supposed to explore.

My Pap used to take me "down street," which meant down to the town area of where they lived, which was Coraopolis, PA. When we went "down street," Pap would always buy us something.

He loved to bowl,

and play cards.

The night that his first son was born he was playing poker.

He won.

They named my uncle, "Lucky."

He used to mix up instant iced tea and Lemon Blend in plastic jugs. It was always really, really sweet.

When I would stay over, he would always make me breakfast. Whatever I wanted. He would cook bacon and then cook the eggs in the bacon grease. It was goooood. No matter how much I would eat, he would say, "Is that ALL you're gonna eat? Jesus, you gotta EAT!"

They had a refrigerator down in the basement that was always filled with soda.
Always.
And not just regular soda,
GOOD soda.
Like Orange Fanta, Ginger-ale, grape soda, rootbeer, cream soda.

And there were always cookies.

At Christmas my Pap would make hundreds of cookies. His specialty was Pitzels. They are made on an iron and have a licorice flavor. I never cared for them, but I would always eat one or two every year.

My Pap knew how to sew, and quilt, and cook, and did ALL of the cleaning and gardening. My grandmother would start projects and not be able to finish them, so he would. He loved her very much. She passed several years ago.

I guess now they are together. I hope that's a good thing!

I know that I'm glad that he's at peace, and that I have my memories of him to share with my children, and all of you.

Peace to you all.

If You Know Me In Real Life

Please read this.

Updated for the masses of people who have apparently found my blog.

And it keeps getting better

To compound my feelings of distress after losing my doggie. I ran into a woman who I am acquainted with through my XH. She is one of the owners of the company that he formerly worked for. She was expressing her condolences about my dog and then proceeded to tell me why my XH really lost his job. According to her (and the rest of the managers,) he was mis-using company time because of his inappropriate relationship with one of his married co-workers. This of course, comes after my being told by people all over town that he's been seen out with her in various places, looking very cozy and as if they are dating.

Now, I don't really care who he's dating.

I just find the whole thing a tad bit ironic.

Of course, when I let on what I was told, he said that it was completely untrue.
Maybe it is, but it still is a bit odd.
It's also odd that one person, (my XH,) would be accussed
Not once,
Not twice,
But three times,
of having an inappropriate relationship with a co-worker in the workplace.

Either he has the worst luck on the face of the earth, or the people that he works for are just completely crazy and looking for the very worst in him.

I don't really know. But I DO know that I'm glad that it's not my problem to deal with anymore.

THAT, I am happy about.

My Sweet Doggie, May He Rest In Peace

My sweet doggie, Rudder, died on Saturday morning around 2:45 AM.

As I had mentioned before, he wasn't doing well starting on Wednesday when he had four very large seizures. We went to the vet on Wednesday and the vet prescribed some valium to stop the cluster of seizures. He was a bit disoriented on Thursday and then later that night, he had a massive seizure where I was sure that he had died. But he started panting and came out of it.

Earlier in the evening, my former LBCG had called and I had asked her to come over. She was feeling sad as was I. I was so glad that she had because when he had the seizure, she was with me to help me through it.

Then on Friday, I took him back to the vet. The vet gave me some more medication to try to stop the seizures, but said that he had an enlarged heart. She did some blood tests, and we were waiting for the results to arrive on Saturday morning before deciding what to do next. She seemed hopeful that we hadn't exhausted everything we could try to help him.

The next night, I asked my former LBCG if she would come over again, just in case something happened.

And it did.

He had another massive seizure but it seemed like he was going to come out of it again.

I put him in his dog bed so I could clean up (because he had defecated during the seizure.) He seemed okay, but just lying there. My former LBCG was sitting by him and he started to have another seizure. We both sat with him while he was in his dog bed.

His breathing slowed.

I put my ear against his chest, and his heart was beating ever so slow.

And then it stopped.

He died.

I cried and cried. And kissed his head and petted him.

LBCG went downstairs and we got a box to put him in.

We laid him on a pillow and lifted him into the box.

He looked like he was sleeping.

In the morning I took him to the vet and they took care of him.

It was very, very sad.

He was a good dog who loved me a lot. He lived a good, long life of thirteen years and I'm glad that he didn't have to suffer any longer. I know that those last few seizures were very, very hard on his little body.

I know all dogs go to Heaven, and I'm glad he's there now, happy and okay and without seizures and anxiety.

It's PRIDE Weekend

You know what that means?

A lot of drunk, partying, sign carrying gay people galavanting and philadering throught the streets of Portland searching for debauchery, depravity,revelry, seduction, sensuality, and sybaritism. (I know how to use the thesaurus...)

It will be a great fucking time!

Don't tease the straight people

Oh Yeah

Stuff Portrait Friday

I'm sorry my dear blogging friends of the internet.

I will not be participating in SPF this week.

I promise I'll be back on track next week.

Please forgive me.

I have had a very busy and crazy week filled intermittently with a bit of trauma and drama, including two more trips to the vet. Not for my toothless dog, but for my demon seed dog.

He is old, (thirteen,) and has epilepsy since he was two. His seizures have changed within the last six months or so and Wednesday he had FOUR of them. I took him to the vet on Wednesday and they sent me home with some valium, (for him, unfortunately, not for me.) Then last night he had a seizure in the middle of the night that was so severe, I do believe that he died. I couldn't feel his heart beating and he wasn't breathing. Shortly after, he started breathing and was okay.

I spent $250.00 on x-rays and blood work.
The x-ray shows that he has a bad heart and enlarged liver.
The blood work will come back tomorrow.

He has MORE drugs to stop the seizures.
And we'll see what happens.

I was hoping to have a fun weekend for PRIDE; hopefully I still will.

It's Summer Fucking VACATION

They were home from school for ten minutes and THIS is what they were doing.

God help me.

It's going to be a long, long, long two and a half months.

God help me.

Did I say that already?

Kindergarten Graduate

Well folks; my BABY has graduated from kindergarten, complete with hat and diploma (and cake.)

I can't believe it.

Boo

Hoo.

The Oregon Trail

So all of the fourth graders in the state of Oregon learn Oregon state history during their school year. Last Friday was their mock "Oregon Trail,"

You know, that trail that all of those crazy ass people decided to leave their nice ordinary, safe homes in the East, and take everything that they owned and trek on out into the wilderness to encounter wild animals and steal people's land. That's the one.

So the kids had to build and pack wagons and take a five mile hike through the town that we live. The hike included going up steep hills pushing their wagons, crossing "rivers" (roads,) and trading goods for food at the trading post, (that's what I volunteered for, handing out snacks.)

They also dressed up for their little adventure.

DD#1 is wearing an apron that belonged to my great-grandmother who died twenty-six years ago at the age of 96.

She's so cute.

It was a fun thing to watch, all of the kids with their wagons, and all of the crazy parents with their cameras.

Good stuff.

My friends named Woo

I went over to my friend Shelly and Angie's house to help them do some shit on their computer. I took a couple pho-tos of them while I was there.

Here is a picture of me and Angie, (I call her Woo.) She is the girlfriend to Shelly (I call her Woo, too,) who was my first friend when I moved to Oregon in 1992.

Here is a photo of Angie-Woo and Shelly-Woo. (The "Woo" nickname is a term of endearment. I used to call my dog "Woo" because she was so cute and pretty, I would say "Macy is woo-woo, so-so PRETTY!) It just kind of one of those weird things that evolves and you don't really remember how it exactly started. But we've always called eachother, "woo."

When Shelly and I met in 1992, we had both just relocated to the Pacific NW. She from Houston, TX, me from South Florida. We worked together and became fast and furious friends. At the time, I was married to XH #1 (who was a BIG ASS MOTHER FUCKER.) Shelly-Woo was my BFF and really saved me from a majorly fucked-up relationship with that horrid bastard.

She then introduced me to XH#2, (but we won't hold THAT against her.) She thought that XH#2 was a great guy, (we all did,) and we all worked together for the same company. Five years after XH#2 and I were married; Shelly-Woo found out that he had been fucking around on me with not one but TWO girls who they worked with (I was at home with a four year old, a two year old and a six month old.) These two girls were very young, (19 and 20, I think.) Any-who-ha, XH#2 denied the whole thing, (lying mother-fucker,) and basically forbade me from ever having a relationship with Shelly-Woo again.

We didn't have contact for FIVE years.

When I told my XH#2 I was a lesbian and in love with a woman, and that we probably shouldn't be married again, I called Shelly; I had no one else to turn to. I knew she'd understand, (she, herself a card-carrying, girl-loving dyke.)

She's been by my side supporting and loving me every minute since I called her up that day after blowing her off for five years. Angie too.

That, my friends, is a FRIEND. A true-blue-woo-friend.

Shelly and Angie have their own blog here.

MOUSE HELP NEEDED

I know that one of you fine, fine people in the blogging world will be able to help me with me mouse dilemma.

No I don't need traps.

Or poison.

Or cheese.

It's my fucking computer mouse.

I think of myself as reasonably high-tech when it comes to SOFTWARE and making shit happen, but not with plugging things in and fixing things and shit. I can hook up a dsl connection and TiVO but that's about it...

My XH was always the savior when it came to fixing my computer issues; although he did do his fair share of fucking things up from time to time.

Here's my ISSUE:

I have a wireless mouse. I changed it's batteries because it wasn't working.

I put in the new batteries and it lit up like a christmas tree, all happy.

Still it wasn't working.

So I pulled out the little wired mouse that connects to the PC that I assume is where it sends the signal too; it has a button on it, and an orange light. When I push the button, the little orange light flashes, and the wireless mouse works. After about 30 seconds, the little organe light goes out and the mouse stops working. In order to make the mouse work again, I have to push the button again.

Please help.

Don't tell me to re-boot because I'll have to hunt you down and smack you.

in other news

I know that I am very lame about posting on the weekends.
That is due to my glamorous waitressing job that I am at most Saturdays and Sundays from 12-10 or so.
Yesterday though I got off from work early.
My former LBCG was painting at her new house with her EX.
Yes, her EX.
I didn't like that.
I didn't want the EX to leave her "mark" on my former LBCG's house.
My former LBCG didn't care so much about that. She just wanted her house painted and the EX offered to help, (because she's a saint and saint's do shit like that.)
I think that the EX comes up enough that I should give her a name.
I'll call her the Captain.

But not like this captain:

Or this captain:

Or this captain:

She's more of a captain like:

this captain.

Sort of a mix of a drill sargeant and your mother.
Nice.
Compassionate.
Organized.
Saintly.
Controlling.
Manipulative.
Bossy.

Yep, that's her. That's my former LBCG's EX.
from this day foreward known as, The Captain.

But I have digressed.
Any who-ha.

I was given the night off, (a guy wanted to leave early; I stayed for him, they didn't need me...) and there was a monthly lesbian dance that I like to go to, so I decided to call up my friend Angie (who apparantly I never talk about in my blog...) to see if she would like to go with. She did, and she was bringing a friend with her as well; who doesn't know if she's gay or not, she's never been with a woman, but is VERY open to the possibilities. (I'm a little afraid of women like that, but she's very nice.)

So I went.
And I had fun.
I was out late.

and I never did call my former LBCG and tell her what I was doing. After her painting with The Captain, she came to my house to wait for me to get home from my glamorous waitressing job. She waited until after midnight, and still I wasn't home.
She was not happy at ALL with me.

So when I did get my partying ass home, I heard her two messages and called her to let her know I was home and safe. She was so very not pleased with me.

It wasn't pretty.
Neither of us slept much last night.
It was all very dramatic
and sad.

She's not happy with me and doesn't think that we should be together, which is confusing because we still hadn't established if we were in fact together in the first place.

But that's where we are.

Love and Thanks

Thanks to everyone for their kind comments on my previous post. You are all so very nice and helpful to a recovering straight girl in need.

Sometimes I just get overwhelmed with the emotion of our entire situation. So much of it is the same over and over again; but sometimes it feels as though relationship is evolving in something different. And then it gets confusing again.

Our love for each other isn't the problem.

Our desire to be together isn't the problem.

We aren't afraid to be together.

Neither of us have any sexual idenity issues.

I don't really know that we would benefit from couples counseling because we only really have one problem.

My former lovely but confused girlfriend is so completely hung-up on her EX that she can't move on to be in a complete and committed relationship with me.

Does she love me?
Yes.
Does she want me?
Yes.
Does she need me?
Yes.
Does she want to have a life with me?
Yes.
Is she able to let go of her previous relationship and the dynamics of that relationship?
No.

She understands that this is a problem and she would really like to not have it be this way; but it is and that's just that.

She understands that I get and am dissapointed in the way things are. That I want something more than to have her heart most of the time except for when I don't.

She knows that I get and am frustrated with the situation; that I gave everything up about my life but she isn't quite able to do that.

She's not TRYING to cause me pain and upset and frustration and dissapointment. I know that. But the situation does cause me all of those things and it's hurtful and it's hard.

She's NOT playing me. I know some people might think that, but THAT is not the case. I know this because I know it in my heart and my soul.

And THAT my blogging friends on the internet is why I am so unsure of how to handle the situation, (like I can handle it anyway, like I have contol over someone else.)

The way that I see it, and have seen it for a long time, is that I can either:
1. Hang in there and wait for her to be able to let go of her XW.
2. Let go and let her figure it out on her own.

Both options kind of suck because neither of them is a win-win situation for me.
And both options HURT.

And this has been going on for a long time.
Almost a year.

That's the story fine readers of my blog.

And the story just continues being much of the same with no real end it sight.
And I keep going.
And waiting.
And wishing.
That the story ends up with a happy ending.

Fail, Fail, Fail; Stupid, Stupid, Stupid

My former Lovely But Confused Girlfriend and I are miserable failures when it comes to breaking up.

We just can't seem to figure out how to do it right.
We try; we really do.

We set boundaries and "rules."
We try to stay away from eachother.
I buy "pick-up-chick-mobiles."
I go out with crazy people that I work with and get hit on by married straight women and bi-sexuals with boyfriends.
I try to venture out into the single world.

I just really love her.
I want to be with her all of the time; and she wants to be with me.
We get around each other and it feels like the rest of the world just stops existing, there's no one or nothing else around; all I can see is her, and feel her and want her.

Suddenly all of the reasons that we discussed over and over for why we should spend time apart don't seem to make any sense; we only want each other.

And we do this for a few days and then reality strikes again. I realize, or she realizes that what we're doing still isn't working for us and what we really need is to re-evaluate so that she can try to figure out how to be okay with the way things are.

Why is it so hard?
It feels like I can't breathe when I don't know when I'll see her again. My body doesn't know how to rest without feeling her next to me. I need and want to have her in my presence, to talk to her, to be with her.
And she feels the same way about me.

That is what is so hard.

So over and over again we fail at breaking up.
We spend time together again are crazy over eachother and then have a reality check and we start all over again.

And I feel stupid.
Stupid because I can't be strong enough to just call it OFF for as long as it takes.
I'm stupid and I must have no self-esteem if I can't do what my head says that I should do because it is contrary to what my heart says.

I feel like a failure. A STUPID failure because I let love and emotion lead me into getting hurt over and over again.
I just don't get it.

Why do I have to be like this?

My Night Out

It's a sure sign of acceptance at a new place of employment when you start to get invited out with your co-workers.

I believe that the Recovering Straight Girl has finally arrived at that place with her glamorous waitressing job.

A couple of crazy people that I work with invited me out to karaoke after work last night. I got done with work pretty early so I decided to go. We all met at a bar; I was the first one there, looking like a dork sitting there by myself drinking a beer.

There were four girls from work, one of their husbands, one of their boyfriends, one of their male roomates, and myself.

I came to find out from mikysis (my coworker who is now a new blogger,) that one of the crazy women I work with; (mikysis calls her "HotBox,") is into girls as well as boys. I never would have thought it.

As the evening proceeded, mikysis, told me that Hotbox was "sweet" on me.

Oh, Good God.

Then, to top it all off; a woman came over to our table to ask if she could see Hotbox's ass because her boyfriend said she had a nice one.

This woman seemed like a dyke to me and my gaydar went off. I looked at her and said, "YOU have a boyfriend?" She said that she was bi-sexual.

She then proceeded to hit on me the rest of the evening. If it wasn't for the fact that she was into guys too; I may have actually liked her hitting on me, she was a little bit cute and looked like Melissa Etheridge.

So, the pick-up-chicks mobile did get me noticed.

But instead of picking up normal chicks; I get, married straight women hot for me; and bi-sexual, Melissa Etheridge look alikes with boyfriends.

What's a recovering straight girl to do?

Stuff Portrait Friday

My Children's Rooms

My DD#2 and 3's Room
We spent two hours cleaning this bitch yesterday.
Thank you to my former LBCG for putting up that fucking shelf above the window. The amount of stuffed animals that these children posess makes my head spin, and half of them are in their other room at their Dad's house.



These two live in this room.
They are frightening.

This is my oldest daughter's room and obviously she doesn't make her bed. The sun is shining and it's quite bright.

My Computer Area

This is where I sit and blog to all you fine people on the Internet.

This computer armoire; I bought it off of Craig's List (the same place I found my bitchin new ride,) and I brought it home intending on putting it upstairs in my bedroom.

Well, don't you know that the mother-fucker doesn't FIT up my staircase. So now I am stuck with my computer downstairs in my living room, which is probably okay except that I spend WAY too much time here, (because I can see the tv and keep an eye on the kidlets.)

My Collection

The only thing I seem to collect are little girls and ex-husbands.

Me in the Chick-Pick-Up-Mobile

Me in the Chick-Pick-Up-Mobile
Originally uploaded by recoveringstraightgirl.

Okay, it stopped raining.

Here I am in my new ride. Obviously I'm not driving it, I'm sitting in the driveway pretending to drive.

I am listening to Prince on the CD though.

Look out hot women of Portland, the mini-van is gone and I'm out on the road in my new S-U-Fucking V!

XH's, craziness, brain tumors, and MS

Not necessarily in that order.

I'll start off by blogging that life is pretty fucking good this week. I haven't had any major traumas, no screaming fights with my XH, no BIG trauma with my former LBCG, my kids are all okay, I made killer money at my glamorous waitressing job last weekend, I got a new ride. I'm okay.

So when I'm okay, my mind turns to other things.

Like the fact that I have this little twitching thing on the left side of my chin, and my left eye twitches, and for two months my left calf muscle was spasming, and then today my left upper arm muscle (whatever the fuck muscle it is,) started doing the spasm too.

So in the age of GOOOGLE, I searched my symptoms and came up with either:
1. A brain tumor.
2. MS or
3. ALS

Or, I'm just a fucking CRAZY WOMAN!

The other thing that's going on is that my XH was over to drop off my DD#1, (BTW, he "approves" of my new car. He said that I made a "good and practical choice" as he drives around in his ACURA with the fucking NAVIGATION SYSTEM in it.)

He made not one, but TWo references that he has a girlfriend. One in the fact that he can't go to our daughter's softball game because he is taking a "friend" to see Moving Out. The other when he said that his "friend" is always giving him crap about his age. Which of course makes me think that his "friend" must be a LOT younger than he is.

That doesn't surprise me, he always liked younger girls, but that fucker is seeing someone and has been for a few months according to what I've heard. Good God, I'm glad I didn't DROP DEAD or something; I'd barely be cold in my grave and that bastard would be out fucking the first twenty-something chick he could find.

She probably only likes him for his car with the Navigation System.

My New Fucking Ride

My New Fucking Ride
Originally uploaded by recoveringstraightgirl.

So, I bought the Honda Pilot. It's a 2004 and has 20K miles on it.

So far, I like it pretty damn well; and there is plenty of room for all of my kids and all of their fucking stuff!

I took this picture at the ladies house who I bought it from. I'll post another one of me driving it a bit later when it stops RAINING!