Sekimori - Live Blog
Very Ouch, Baby

Xst, what a day.

Overheard at the polls this morning, an exchange between an incoming voter and a member of the Christian Coalitian (wearing a Bush/Cheney t-shirt):

CC Boy: Hi! I'd like you have this non-partisan literature that explains where all the candidates stand on the issues.

Voter: (noting the Christian Coalition banner atop the flier) The Christian Coalition is neither Christian nor a coalition. It is instead a loosely associated group of pedophiles and proselytizers who would stab each other in the back over the interpretation of a single word.

CC Boy: (pause) Thank you for coming out to vote today!

(no, it wasn't me who said that...but I did stand there and applaud)

Posted 11/02/04
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Color Us Done

Well, that was annoying. The wind gusts made Charley look like a piker, knocking down trees, signs, and (worst of all) power, all over the jernt. We have power back but not cable. I'm currently dialing up through AOHell, and sacrificing chickens to the cable modem gods. Anyway, here's a load of pics from the past two days.

**UPDATE** - It's the husband's windshield, and the insurance company (Progressive) is going to replace it, no charge, and no deductible. Amazing, eh?

Read More

Posted 09/27/04
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Watching the histrionics of the local news folks, as they stupidly stand in 100 mph wind, batting futilely at the jet-propelled bits of razor sharp sand as they embed in their corneas and eardrums...all we can do is root for them to fall down. Guy is standing at a 45 degree angle in wind and rain that is moving so fast it appears to be one single element, I'm yelling at the TV, "FALL DOWN!!!"

So here's a quickie drinking game:

- When the stupid newsperson standing in the middle of the hurricane rucks their inadequate windbreaker hood up against the side of their face in a vain attempt to keep horizontal rain from siphoning out their sinus cavities, take one drink.

- When the stupid newsperson standing in the middle of the hurricane gets hit upside the head by a flying piece of debris, sand, small mammal, etc., take two drinks.

- When the stupid newsperson standing in the middle of the hurricane FALLS DOWN, everybody drink!

Have fun.

The eyewall is nearly upon us, time to unplug the router. Later, gators.

Posted 09/26/04
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We've Got Plenty of Towels

Well, the bitch will be here in the morning, and all I gotta say is she better not wake us up. Tippytoe, got it?

We'll likely be out and about tomorrow, weather/power permitting, and will be sure to bring the good camera to capture the inevitable tree snappage, etc. Everyone in the path keep your head down. And remember, alcohol cushions the system against shock. And Vogon transports.

Posted 09/25/04
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In Other News

If you've emailed me lately and I haven't answered, exhaustion and constant pain are to blame. I'm tired. I can't seem to stop bleeding (again), and the constant pain is just wearing me down. By the time the husband gets home, I just want to crawl under the covers and hide. So, unless you're a client, email is getting ignored pretty thoroughly. Doesn't mean I don't love you, it just means I really have no energy to spare. </PSA>

Posted 09/22/04
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Ivan the Bastard

Amazing pictures here of Hurricane Ivan's pillage of Grand Cayman.

Posted 09/22/04
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And It Gets Personal

I have never blegged on this site, never really had a need. The husband and I have fought and scratched to get where we are, buy our house, get our credit repaired after making the mistakes of the young. I would never ask anyone to donate money for this dubious entertainment, hell, I have a business and charge you people a fair price for our lovely work, this blog is mostly Vent Central.

But this is different, this time there's a need. My husband's mother lives in Andalusia, Alabama, directly in the path of Hurricane Ivan, and has taken significant damage to her property and roof. Without going too much into the details (which might embarrass her), she's on a single income, her husband died a few years ago. We're going to send what we can, but it would be a very great help if any of you have a little extra to spare and could hit the donate button below and help her out. It's a lot better cause than a bandwidth fund, even if it does feel very strange to me to make this post.

Thanks to everyone in advance, on behalf of my MIL Tillie and the rest of my family.

**UPDATE** - The generosity of people you don't even know can be overwhelming. You all rock, I can't thank you enough. I'm sending every one of you a personal thank you as I receive your notes, but some are getting bounced back to me, so please, if you see this, accept our heartfelt thanks for the help you're enabling us to send MIL Tillie. We will be contacting FEMA as well, thanks much to those who made that suggestion.

**UPDATE #2** - We spoke with MIL Tillie today and learned that the neighbor's homeowner's insurance (whose trees fell on her house) will NOT cover their removal or any roof repairs because in the Great Backwards State of Alabama, the insurance companies have managed to weasel out of liability by lumping such under the dubious "Acts of God" umbrella. So, your donations are quadruply appreciated. Thank you all.

Posted 09/16/04
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Who says you need a hurricane for a flash flood...

After about an hour of rain, storm drains across the county threw up their (figurative) hands and said, 'screw this'. We actually saw a manhole cover pushed up and askew by the force of water back-surging out of it. Steenky.

After two hurricanes and daily storms of this magnitude, bring that Ivan bitch the fuck on. He'll skip across us like a wet fart and go piss in the Atlantic.*

*fingers double crossed

Posted 09/09/04
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Comment from Bill, on the post down below and our relative alivedness:

Hurrah, you're alive!
'Cause, you know, I'd be unhappy if you weren't.

Ahem. Thou shalt not speak too soon...

Posted 09/08/04
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We Live

Though we're broadband-less, cursed to dial-up hell. So it's only a stunted sort of half-life, really.

Pictures later.

**UPDATE - Ok, cable's back so pictures now, and these are from my cell phone camera so no bitching about size or resolution:

Read More

Posted 09/06/04
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Playing poker for nearly five hours straight is certainly preferrable to glaring at the radar all night, especially when the hurricane in question is moving like an arthritic old lady with a busted walker. We're still here, still powered. For now.

Posted 09/05/04
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Uh, No

I've been asked if I'll be live-blogging the hurricane. The answer is in the title of this post...and in the picture below:

We're directly under the S that's below the letters FL. So, if my computer is turned at all this weekend, it'll be to listen to my beloved Crimson Tide take down the season's first sacrificial lamb.

See everyone on the other side.

Posted 09/04/04
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Make up yer frigging mind, would you?

We're a bit south of the letters "FL", by the way.

Posted 09/03/04
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We Were Just Kidding, Yeesh

We weathered Hurricane Charley on my mother's back porch, reveling in the massive wind gusts, laughing and yelling in a mixture of fear and excitement when a particularly large blast would set the massive oaks swaying. Man vs. the weather is ingrained in us at a cellular level, I think. Our defiance is inevitable.

However, this time, I believe we will stay indoors, quietly playing Super Monkey Ball as long as the power holds out.


Posted 09/02/04
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Hurricane Preparedness

In the wake of Hurricane Charley, and with Frances bearing down on us Floridians, these tips might come in handy:

UPDATE - A commenter says this piece was written by Dave Barry...

You all should be aware of hurricane preparations, but in case you need a refresher course: We're about to enter the peak of the hurricane season. Any minute now, you're going to turn on the TV and see a weather person pointing to some radar blob out in the Atlantic Ocean and making two basic meteorological points.

  1. There is no need to panic.
  2. We could all be killed.

Yes, hurricane season is an exciting time to be in Florida. If you're new to the area, you're probably wondering what you need to do to prepare for the possibility that we'll get hit by "the big one." Based on our insurance industry experiences, we recommend that you follow this simple three-step hurricane preparedness plan:

Buy enough food and bottled water to last your family for at least three days.

Put these supplies into your car.

Drive to Nebraska and remain there until Halloween. Unfortunately, statistics show that most people will not follow this sensible plan. Most people will foolishly stay here in Florida.

We'll start with one of the most important hurricane preparedness items:

If you own a home, you must have hurricane insurance. Fortunately, this insurance is cheap and easy to get, as long as your home meets two basic requirements:

  1. It is reasonably well-built, and
  2. It is located in Wisconsin

Unfortunately, if your home is located in Florida, or any other area that might actually be hit by a hurricane, most insurance companies would prefer not to sell you hurricane insurance, because then they might be required to pay YOU money, and that is certainly not why they got into the insurance business in the first place. So you'll have to scrounge around for an insurance company, which will charge you an annual premium roughly equal to the replacement value of your house. At any moment, this company can drop you like used dental floss.

Your house should have hurricane shutters on all the windows, all the doors. There are several types of shutters, with advantages and disadvantages:

Plywood shutters:
The advantage is that, because you make them yourself, they're cheap.

Sheet-metal shutters:
The advantage is that these work well, once you get them all up. The disadvantage is that once you get them all up, your hands will be useless bleeding stumps, and it will be December.

Roll-down shutters:
The advantages are that they're very easy to use, and will definitely protect your house. The disadvantage is that you will have to sell your house to pay for them.

Hurricane-proof windows:
These are the newest wrinkle in hurricane protection: They look like ordinary windows, but they can withstand hurricane winds! You can be sure of this, because the salesman says so. He lives in Nebraska.

Hurricane Proofing your property:
As the hurricane approaches, check your yard for movable objects like barbecue grills, planters, patio furniture, visiting relatives, etc...

You should, as a precaution, throw these items into your swimming pool (if you don't have a swimming pool, you should have one built immediately). Otherwise, the hurricane winds will turn these objects into deadly missiles.

If you live in a low-lying area, you should have an evacuation route planned out. (To determine whether you live in a low-lying area, look at your driver's license; if it says "Florida," you live in a low-lying area). The purpose of having an evacuation route is to avoid being trapped in your home when a major storm hits. Instead, you will be trapped in a gigantic traffic jam several miles from your home, along with two hundred thousand other evacuees. So, as a bonus, you will not be lonely.

If you don't evacuate, you will need a mess of supplies. Do not buy them now! Florida tradition requires that you wait until the last possible minute, then go to the supermarket and get into vicious fights with strangers over who gets the last can of cat food. In addition to food and water, you will need the following supplies:

  • 23 flashlights.
  • At least $167 worth of batteries that turn out, when the power goes off, to be the wrong size for the flashlights.
  • Bleach. (No, I don't know what the bleach is for. NOBODY knows what the bleach is for, but it's traditional, so GET some!)
  • A big knife that you can strap to your leg. (This will be useless in a hurricane, but it looks cool.)
  • A large quantity of raw chicken, to placate the alligators. (Ask anybody who went through Andrew; after the hurricane, there WILL be irate alligators.)
  • $35,000 in cash or diamonds so that, after the hurricane passes, you can buy a generator from a man with no discernible teeth.

Of course these are just basic precautions. As the hurricane draws near, it is vitally important that you keep abreast of the situation by turning on your television and watching TV reporters in rain slickers stand right next to the ocean and tell you over and over how vitally important it is for everybody to stay away from the ocean.

Good luck, and remember...its great living in Paradise.

(Circulating in email everywhere I'm sure, in my inbox courtesy of my sister.)

Posted 08/30/04
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Just Wow

Here's a large gallery of pics taken by a local morning talk yammerer, MJ Schnitt. I dislike this guy's morning show intensely but grudingly give him credit for getting in the chopper and capturing some spectacular shots.

Some of the most amazing:

This was done by WIND, people.

Stay with me here...this building has been shaved from it's concrete foundation and folded like a cardboard tube.

I don't know what it is, but it's huge and significantly dented.

Glad they put those things in big empty fields, aren't you?

Amazing how the roof can just be torn right off, yet tablecloths are still on the tables.

This is the one that made me cry. As asstastic as people can be to each other on a daily basis, we freaking help each other when the need arises.

And finally, you have to respect the aplomb some people display in the face of disaster. 'Gone Fishing', indeed.

This is the same storm that missed us by about 30 miles. We're feeling just a bit lucky here.

Via Marble

Posted 08/19/04
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Day: Ruined

Anything you have to leave the house for that contains the word "biopsy" can be considered a day ruiner.

Update - Ok, that fucking HURT.

Aaand, I can't seem to stop crying, despite the worried dog leaning up against my leg. Thanks, hormones!

Posted 08/11/04
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That Does It

You are so fucking fired.

Posted 08/08/04
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Of all the foul moods in the history of foul moods, this is surely the foulest.

Posted 07/19/04
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It Really...

...fucking torques me to have to censor myself on my own fucking site.

Posted 06/26/04
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Motherhood Snobbery

My brother's girlfriend is in labor this morning. My mother just called from the hospital and I could hear her screeching in the background, "hoo, hoo, hoo, heeee, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!"

And all I could do was laugh and laugh, filled with exuberant glee that I never, ever have to go through labor again. Muwahahahaha!!

**UPDATE - It's a 7lb girl, woo!

Posted 05/25/04
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Psst, Pass it On

The Husband and I just celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary. After eight years of FAR more better than worse, I can now safely say that the secret to a long and happy marriage is this:

Don't be a selfish asshole.

Yep, it's that simple. When "they" say marriage is about compromise, "they" are totally not shitting you. You spend your life up to that point doing what you want, when you want, and how you want. Your opinon matters, others do not, blah freakin' blah. Well, get over it. Undo the lifelong habit of looking out for #1 and give a crap about the feelings and needs of another person for a change.

My gift to you.

Posted 05/03/04
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The Secret of Life

It's a cliche that women turn into their mothers, but it's also an unavoidable fact. Daily I find myself doing something or saying something in a manner that instantly reminds me of my mother. It gives me pause, but isn't unduly distressing...rather comforting, actually, now that I've given in to the inevitable.

What I keep reminding myself though, is this metamorphosis does NOT have to include the insanecrazy episodes, as well. Plenty of time for that in the toothless years, when there might be an actual biological reason for it.

Posted 03/30/04
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I Knew It Was Coming...

My son cried this morning when I asked him to get dressed for school. This, coupled with deteriorating school (and home) behavior over the last week and a half, can only add up to one thing: bully

And sure enough, after many hugs and a little gentle prodding this morning, he tells me the kid he's sitting next to in class is scribbling on his papers, poking him, calling him names, and cheating off his tests. He's harassing him in P.E. class and apparently invading my son's every waking hour.

They're both in the first grade.

Notes have been sent to the teacher and will be followed up with phone calls. If that does not improve the situation, both Mommy and Daddy will be making surprise appearances at school. The first time someone suggests my son is deliberately making himself a victim, as in Michele's case...well, let's just say Mount Vesuvius will tuck it's tail between it's legs and sink beneath the earth's surface in shame at it's performance over the past millenium.*

Breathe. Must remember to breathe. And not grind teeth.

UPDATE - Well, I guess the fact that he's TOTALLY FUCKING LYING ABOUT THE WHOLE THING kind of simplifies matters.

Read More

Posted 02/11/04
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More Self-Therapy

Many years ago, we lived in Saudi Arabia. The atmosphere was nothing like it is now, Saudis still considered us exotic and fascinating, not actual targets. As much for our own protection as theirs though, we lived in a guarded compound, complete with our own recreational facilities, snack bar, even groceries were delivered by truck.

We kids thought it was great, we could wander the compound at will, swimming, riding our bicycles, adventuring. The adults had it somewhat worse. Re-broadcasts from the BBC did little to enliven their evenings and most of them took to sport drinking.

One night, my mother was out with some of her girlfriends, toasted beyond recognition, wandering around the compound, singing in the streets. I remember leaving my bed and finding my father in the darkened living room, waiting for her to come home. Out of the blue, he said, "What would you think if your mom and I got divorced?" Being the selfish pre-teen that I was, I said, "I'd probably hate you both," and ran back to the haven of my bed. I most likely cried myself to sleep as I don't remember much after that.

The sport drinking continued, we survived that TDY in Saudi, and at least one other a few years later, and my parents remain married to this day.

I often wonder if this is why my relationship with my father is as pathetically bad as it is. Could he possibly blame the adolescent ME for the travesty their marriage has become? They barely speak to each other, they live in separate bedrooms. I'm sure their problems can have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he cheated on her a few years ago and that their entire life together has pretty much consisted of him manipulating her and her accusing him of cheating.

But I can't talk to him. There's some sort of wall between us, and I really feel it's built on contempt. I can't imagine what I've done as a daughter that rates such disdain.

Posted 05/10/03
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On Veteran's Day

My husband is the strongest man I know.

He joined the U.S. Navy during college when his dad got sick and the money dried up. Rumor has it he stuck his head in the recruiter's office and said, "You guys hiring?" He went to San Diego for boot, loved it, and was good at it, from day one.

They trained him in Intel. They schooled his body and his mind, taught him to think, to kill, to win. He served them for seven years. He would have served them until he died.

But something broke and he spent months in rehab. Then he was discharged.

It broke his heart.

When I met him he was in constant pain and medicated to the gills. The V.A. had no thought towards repairing him, just shutting him up. They dispensed narcotics via U.S. Mail and upon request. Nothing is too good for our veterans.

The nightmares came frequently, usually when he'd had a particularly pain-filled day. The drugs couldn't shield him from the images in his brain. The memories.

Over the six years we've been married, my husband has weaned himself off the narcotics, including the experimental THC derivative being tested on him. He's still in constant, low-grade pain and there are some things he just can't do, but the day is rare that he even takes a Tylenol. It means more to him to be awake and aware and enjoy his kids and family than it does to be free of pain.

And the nightmares are mostly gone. But it is his rigid, iron-willed control that keeps them at bay now, that keeps him from delving into the parts of his brain that he wishes were just not there. You see, they trained him to think, to kill, to win...but when they broke him, they didn't bother to retrain him how to just live. He's had to learn that on his own.

And he still loves his country, would lay down his life if asked.

My husband is a veteran. And I am proud of him.

I am proud of them all.

Posted 11/11/02
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It took forever to fall asleep last night...I was convinced something was going to happen and jumped up every 12 minutes to check the news on the computer. This morning I feel like my head is wrapped in cotton, it's drizzling outside and everything feels...disconnected.

I don't expect to get much work done today, instead I will be here, reading what my friends have to say, exchanging emails and instant messages with them, just being close, being a community. And yes, remembering.

Posted 09/11/02
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Violation Administration

The Veteran's Administration medical system is a complete disgrace. I pity anyone who is required to deal with them for any reason whatsoever. Sure, they give free medical care to vets, but they only have two kinds of doctors: those who are too ambitionless or stupid to be somewhere else and those who are there because they relish having an enormous pool of unwitting test subjects.

What was this guy up to, with all of his take-home body parts? What was the bitchwhore in Birmingham up to when she put my husband on a psychotropic for back pain? I was nursing our one month old son and I watched Dan as the drug took effect...staring blankly at the television and tugging on his hair. I have never been so frightened in my entire life. If I had that doctor in front of me now, I would kill her.

They told him so many things...he'd never walk again, he'd never have a normal life, he'd be in a wheelchair by 40. Fuck them. He took back his life, lives with constant low-grade pain, and yet somehow manages to be a wonderful father and husband and quite happy. If you have a choice at all, stay as far away from the VA as you can. Your life means nothing to them.

**UPDATE** - I knew I was giving these bastards too much credit...Dan just reminded me they told him he'd be wheelchair-bound by 30, not 40, and with absolutely no sexual function at all. Fuckers. For the record, he's a father of two who wears me out on a regular basis and can play kickball with 11-year olds for hours. Well, minutes anyway.

Posted 09/02/02
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Eighth House, Bitch Rising

Did you know I'm a Scorpio? Hey...come back! I promise not to bite. Hard.

Here's what I'm supposed to be like:

Scorpio Characteristics (positive): Insightful, masterful, strong, determined, virile, influential, resourceful, perceptive, inventive, championing, leading, inspiring, clever, authoritative, courageous, passionate, creative, loyal, loving, supportive, discreet, trustworthy.

Scorpio Characteristics (negative): Vengeful, cruel, judgemental, rejecting, severe, jealous, hard, power hungry, tyrannical, intense, manipulative, explosive, baised, resentful, paranoid, suspicious, hypercritical, lustful, vengeful, obstinate, deceptive, pessimistic, seductive, obsessive.

Famous Scorpios: Charles Manson, Genghis Khan, Marie Antoinette, Katherine Hepburn, Grace Slick, Johann Strauss, Pablo Picasso

Now I'm not a great fan of astrology. I'll read my horroscope out of mild interest on occasion, but I certainly don't ever let it affect my actions. (For the record, this is the most accurate horoscope I've ever come across.) But these little profiles, not matter where you read them, no matter who is generating them, are always dead on.

What's up with that?

And, no, I don't buy the Bible argument...that they are so general that they're completely open to interpretation. Tell anyone I know that I'm a Scorpio and they'll nod and say, "that explains it!"


Posted 06/28/02
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Father's Day Opposites


Me: Hey! Happy Father's Day!
Him: Thank you!
Me: So, you playing golf today?
Him: (reproachfully) No, I can't leave your mother. (she just had knee surgery)
Me: Ahh, makes sense.
Him: You want to talk to her?
Me:'s Father's Day...
Him: Well, I'm trying to get some beds made up right now...hold on, I'll get her.

That pretty much typifies my entire relationship with my father.


Showing everyone else how it's done.

Happy Father's Day, baby.

Posted 06/02/02
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I have the hiccups. They're seriously pissing me off.

A strong wind will piss me off as well. Whips your hair around, gets crap in your eyes and buffets you around. I didn't say it made sense.

I don't like to have things pointing at me. Doesn't matter what it is, if it has a point, it'd better not be pointing at me. Yes, this includes dicks. Or rather just the one

Complainers with a tenuous grasp of the facts also piss me off. Know your subject before you nitpick. Otherwise you just look like an asshole/suck-up.

People desperate for attention also piss me off. Everyone craves attention, everyone. But it seems to me it's better and more satisfying to get attention for something you've accomplished than for making a public ass of yourself. I'm definitely a hot-tempered sort of chick, but I'm at a point in my life now where I'd rather take my sulfurous rage and mold it into a really cathartic rant about the latest political incompetence or, even better, paint/pixelize something. Does that make me better than Public Asses? You betcha.

But these hiccups...really, really pissing me off.

Posted 06/01/02
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Memo To My Uterus

Hi, hey, hello. Um. We've never really gotten along, have we? I'm sure it's pretty much your fault, bursting onto the scene like you did, flourishing your debilitating cramps, ridiculous bloating and drastic mood swings. Not really the best way to make friends, you know?

But I sort of thought I evened things up a few years ago when I made you stretch about 10 times your normal size and take care of my kid for 9 months. Twice. Ha ha. Ahem. And you were a good sport about it, I have to admit. Well, except for that whole thing with the umbilical cord wrapped around their necks... You know, those things aren't toys, you shouldn't play with them like that. But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on that one...they are lively kids.

So I thought we were even. We'd found some kind of happy medium where I didn't ask you to take care of any more kids and you didn't cause gut-wrenching pain. Sure, there was more sex and that sticky stuff that you don't like so much, but you kept your cool and stuck with the lower back pain, and I really appreciate that.

But what's the deal now? What is with the 8 weeks without doing your job? Was there a previously scheduled vacation I was unaware of? You know you have to set these things up at least six months in advance with the Memory Department. I got a little freaked, I had to go to the doctor, you got poked, and then he made me take that stuff, that progesterone, to remind you what you were supposed to be doing. And that hurt. A lot. So now you're back on the job, but you seem to have forgotten that it's a five day job. Five days. Not eight or nine or ten! Five.

So, it pains me to have to say this...after all, we've been together for 32 years now... Get your shit together or you're fired. Really.


Posted 05/14/02
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So How's The Old Ticker?

So. It's good to know that the sound of a shattering pickle jar at 1:30 in the morning will wake exactly zero (0) members of my family.

Posted 04/11/02
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Not Dead Yet...

...just feeling like it. Got some sort of Pool Head going on here...stuffy nose, sneezing like it's going out of style, scratchy throat.

Kids won't sleep, therefore I don't get to sleep. As I write this, the 2 year old is in the living room, wide-freaking awake. Please don't tell me I should get her more exercise, cut down on sugar, etc. I know all these things. As I was telling a friend of mine, the toddler's power to jerk herself away from the brink of sleep borders on the supernatural.

Spent part of the afternoon lazing in the sun by the pool. There's just something about sun-warmed skin...

There's an airshow going on two towns over. The constant buzzing of every Tom, Dick and Harry's Piper Cubs is beginning to grate on my nerves. But when the jets come by...oh yes, the jets...I get the gooseflesh and unconsciously bare my teeth and wish so hard that I had not turned down that appointment to the Naval Academy. At the time, women were not allowed to fly in combat roles, only support. About five years later that law was changed...I would have been perfectly positioned to be Top Freakin' Gun. (And wouldn't that have been a much more interesting movie!) But I was directionless and declined the honor of going to Annapolis. *sigh*

Now taking numbers to come over and smack Seki upside the head...

Posted 04/09/02
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The Joy Of Shooting

The lovely and talented Bill writes today about being a Girl-Drink Drunk...she also writes about things that make me want to run over her father with my car but that's another story.

My drinking career began when I was 15. I was dating a 19 year old bad boy, which my parents HATED, and he introduced me to the complete lack of complex audacity that was Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill screw-top wine. Oh how I loved kissing him after he drank that wine. We moved on to wine coolers, yes it was the mid-80s, and kept Bartles & Jaymes fat and happy for the next year and spent many a night dancing on the roof of his car on deserted country back roads. Then came beer. I discovered how shotgunning a beer, while high on the street cred scale, will likely make you draft/keg beer always tastes better than the bottled stuff...and how funneling is just wrong. *Humorous Aside* I once funneled wine coolers on a beach...I dug holes to vomit in then covered them back up like a cat. *End Humorous Aside*

When the legal years began, I tried everything. But usually stuck with the girl-drinks. I didn't want to taste my alcohol, I just wanted to "catch a buzz," as we used to say. Kahula and cream, anything with the word 'Sex' or 'Beach' in it, sickly sweet stuff on top of alcohol, any kind would do. Finally I discovered Long Island Iced Teas. They had on me the approximate effect of Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters...I would drink one, feel nothing, then send another one down to see what happened to the first one. Then I'd send a third down to see what happened to the other two and that's when they usually had to scrape me up from the floor...or pry me off some hard body. This got expensive, both financially and karmically. Some unknown time later, I discovered shots.

Shooting is not for sissies. It takes a certain amount of moxie to both drink the raw stuff and to slam it down your unprotected throat in such a manner. And I'm not talking about mixed shots like B-52s or Slippery Nipples (these are just really short mixed drinks), nor the anonymous colorful stuff in the creepy test tubes and certainly not schnapps. A Lemon Drop does count though...a shot of vodka followed by sucking on a sugar coated lemon. But nothing puts hair on your balls (literal or figurative) like tequila.

Tequila. Drink of the Gods Who are Perennially Potted and Horny. Filling the tiny glass with fiery elixir, going through the ritual of tossing the shot, licking the salt and desperately sucking on the lime as your eyes begin to bleed. There is nothing like shooting tequila. Margaritas are good, but tequila shots with Corona chasers are the stuff of legend. You can party all night on tequila and Corona, but make no mistake, you will pay the next day.

But not so much that you won't do it again.

Posted 02/22/02
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The Summer of Insanity

There is a six-month period in my near personal past known as the Summer of Insanity. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds.

I was 23 or so and sharing an apartment with two other hot babes. We were all single, we all worked together...the synergy was frightening. We drank, we smoked, we sang karaoke. We entertained more gentlemen callers than I have a prayer of remembering. By the end of the six months, one of us was married and the other two in long-term relationships that eventually turned out to be shite. It was a helluva ride.

Here, for your viewing enjoyment are the things I learned during the Summer of Insanity:

* Tickle fights at 3 a.m. piss off the downstairs neighbors.
* If she ain't from Louisiana, don't eat her bouillabaise.
* If he's married, he should wear a goddamned ring.
* Buddies shouldn't fuck, but fuck buddies rule.
* Air Force Majors are assholes.
* Army Sergeants are assholes.
* A bartender can be your best friend. So can a waiter.
* Knowing the guys in the band makes you really cool. Fucking them does not.
* Turn off the breaker before installing the ceiling fan.
* In rooms that share a common wall, place beds on opposite walls.
* Do not sing "Tomorrow" to your girlfriend at seven in the morning unless you want Ex-lax in your Frosted Flakes.
* There is no way to avoid a hangover.
* Drinking at home before you go out because it's cheaper is a sure way to puke sooner.
* At a bar, deep throating a Corona bottle will get you anything you want.
* Men are powerless against the Sex Look.
* Everybody can tie a cherry stem in a knot with their tongue.
* Playing pool while drunk significantly improves your game.
* Do not set your drink on the edge of the pool table.
* If you're the first woman he's wanted to date since the divorce, Just Say No.
* Playing darts while drunk is just dangerous.
* Zima is quite tasty.
* Busy bartenders won't stop to make you a frufru drink with cherries and shit. Order a beer or a shot and get out of the way.
* Doing shooters from test tubes is just weird.
* Jello shots are the invention of the devil. So is vodka.
* Eat before you drink.
* Playing Trivial Pursuit while stoned is just oxymoronish.
* If he says he's going to clean the kitchen, he's lying.
* Never climb into bed with a drunk roommate.
* Sex with strangers can be fun. Keep lots of rubbers on hand.
* Yes, a rubber will stretch...a lot. So will your vagina.
* If he's still there in the morning, it's not your problem, you can still make your tee time.
* Never let your roommate set you up with an old friend.
* If he disappears after two weeks of amazing sex, don't call him.
* Once the six month lease is up, only need one Summer of Insanity.

Posted 02/16/02
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Once upon a time, I lived in a very large old house with a chef named Jack. Jack played blues guitar, smoked an inordinate amount of weed and rarely cleaned up after himself. Jack still owes me money and can kiss my ass. But that's another story.

Next door to us lived a nice, middle-aged British lady and her lovely marmalade-colored tom cat. This darling boy had the run of the neighborhood, waltzing in and out of my backyard any time he pleased. The local blue jay contingent despised him and took great joy in swooping down to snatch hairs from his back or tail as he moseyed on about his business. He ignored them with great dignity.

One day, I was home from work and heard a great blue jay commotion in the vacant lot across the street from my house. I went out on the porch and saw a tumbled marmalade heap lying in the gutter. That lovely tom had been hit by a car and the blue jays were celebrating. The tom purred a bit under my fingertips before he died, and I carried him to his person's porch, blinded by tears. I laid him down just as the woman who hit him arrived, grief stricken and apologetic. I retreated to my house.

To this day I hate and despise blue jays.

Posted 02/09/02
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When I was nineteen, I began a two-year affair with a 42 year old man. We worked together, he was extremely intelligent and funny, and eventually the teasing became something else...something that got me splinters in my knees from the floor of a freight elevator. (And a blistering, accusatory phone call from his wife...but that was much later.) He was a fine man, excepting his penchant for adultery, but I now consider those two years a complete waste of time. Why? Because I had the ass of a goddess and I was wasting it on this clown (who had seven kids...two of which were my age) instead of having a normal, healthy relationship with someone with whom I could be seen in public.

If this reasoning sounds a little odd to some of you, consider if you will, that my weight (and therefore my self-esteem) had fluctuated wildly throughout grade school, high school and college. Being uprooted every two years or so, traveling to different countries and having to start all over again with the friend-making thing will make one turn elsewhere for to Hostess food products, for instance. Couple that with the fact that I didn't notice when I was looking good (once you feel fat, you never go back) and no one ever brought it to my attention (besides the clumsy attentions of grade school boys and what the hell are those worth anyway?), and you've got a chick blundering along, apparently incapable of looking in a mirror with an unjaundiced eye. So this is why I'm disgusted when I look back at that time, see pictures of myself and see that I was HOT and get a little irritable.

Oh great, now I feel I should backtrack a little and defend the affair just a wee bit. It's not like he didn't teach me anything...I learned that a 42 year old man can go eight solid hours if he so chooses...I learned that it is possible to tell the most boldfaced lies to people and they won't suspect a thing, until two years later when they call you at work and demand that you stop seeing their husband or they'll have you killed...I learned that not being able to have a normal relationship with the one you, er, sort of love, is not acceptable and will make your brain soft and squidgy. And hopefully I've learned to pay close attention to what my daughter is saying...and what she's not saying. I guess my family just thought I was celibate those two years since I never brought anyone to parties, holidays or dinner, eh?

Lest I sound like a shallow, heartless bitch (which, make no mistake, I am), the biggest thing I've learned is that it barely matters what the mirror shows. If I think I'm sexy, then I am. If my husband tells me that I still have the ass of a goddess, then I most certainly do. An average woman who perceives herself as beautiful is a helluva lot more so than a supermodel with a case of self-hate.

Posted 02/08/02
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Frickin' Seinfeld Was Right!

Why is it so hard to make new friends past a certain age? Is it as simple as a lack of willingness to plow through all the bullshit necessary to reach the comfort/friend zone? You know the zone I'm talking about...the one where you can burp, fart, scratch, whine, bitch, moan and generally be a colossal pain and all is forgiven because you're friends? Do you just hit an age in life where your tolerance for anything but already established friends is nil? YES=11 NO=12 Just to clarify, I'm not speaking of acquaintances here, people you see/chat with and have an amiable relationship with...I'm talking about friends, people who will not only answer the phone at 3 a.m. but help you dispose of the dead hooker's body as well.

And it's not just making new friends, it's keeping the old ones! Of the three really good friends I had ten years ago, only one remains. One of the ex-friends apparently decided she'd had enough of my "meddling" in her life and instead of telling me off, instituted a pattern of avoidance that lasted two years. The other one decided an abusive husband and co-dependent mother were more important than anything else. So, I have one friend left. I have many acquaintances, blog friends, e-mail friends, but only one person that would drive 13 hours to help me bury a body.

I'm married, I have two small children. These two things probably have a lot to do with the inability to make new friends. Whatever free time the kids leave me, I want to spend with my husband. And when we go out on the town, it's to dinner and a movie. We have zero tolerance for the club scene and concerts are just too loud. We meet people at the pool but, so far, they've been off the Asshole Quotient Scale and do not get a callback.

So what is one to do? Lower one's standards? Not bloody likely. Be content with what one has? Hrm...okay.

Posted 01/10/02
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Update du Life

Last night over dinner, the husband said something, I forget what, and I said, "Are you calling me a monopoly?" He responded with, "Baby, you're Payday, Battleship and Life, all rolled into one."

Possibly the finest compliment he has ever given me.

Posted 01/05/02
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My Christmas Vacation

Wait a minute...that was supposed to be a vacation?! Shit, I guess we should've left the kids at home then, eh?

No, no, they really weren't that bad. No worse than any person trapped in a moving vehicle with limited mobility for 8 hours at a time would be. The visiting was good. The grandparents have their kid fixes and can last another month or so, we all made out like bandits (hello Bryce 5!) and much home cooking was ingested. Gah. Rather than put you to sleep with a narrative (too late, you say?), here are the high points...and when I say "high" I mean "weird/fun/amusing/etc.":

-Sekimori's Third Law of Familial Relations: the older you get, the more insane your parents appear.

-My sister's husband is still an asshole. Though he was less of an asshole this visit than usual. Must've been the Dayquil...hey, maybe there's a terrorist-fighting application there...

-It is more than just a little disconcerting to be traveling through a large metropolis in a moving 80 mile an hour traffic jam and watch an exiting car spin out and nearly flip over on the ramp.

-Cherry slurpees are not an acceptable pre-bedtime snack for pre-schoolers.

-Krispy Kreme doughnuts are the food of the gods.

-My husband is the absolute best person to take a road trip with.

-Who knew the Kinks did a version of Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed?

Oh yeah, we saw the Fellowship of the Ring Tuesday night, as well. What did I think? The music was heavy handed, I long to visit New Zealand, I want to be an Elf and all of the story edits make perfect sense and do, in fact, make it better.

So what did you lot do?

Posted 12/29/01
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