This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Turbulence (part2)

I couldn't stay in the room, so I ran down and outdoors, pacing the street in front of my hotel, trying to imagine a circumstance in which I could be near the older brother again without trying to rip out his beating heart and punch it down his throat. It was a true struggle.

I'd spotted a convenience store around the corner during my stomp/cry/blind rage fest, and once it opened, I bought beer. I was determined to sleep. Sleep refused to give me satisfaction. When the bar opened below me, I popped downstairs, demanded vodka and was obliged by an older lady who seemed of surly disposition. I learned during my stay there that she was actually hilarious and delightful.

I spent just about that entire day on a bar stool, meeting most of the employees, some locals, and trying to convince the boyfriend via text messages to find a way to come see me, to no avail. Not even when ...

In the evening, an older guy - who was known by the locals to make a habit of bar-hopping up and down the lane - thought that buying me a drink meant I belonged to him. It was simply mildly irritating at first, but quickly turned unsettling as the drunker he got, the less he was able to understand what a shove and the phrase "stop pawing at me, knucklehead." meant. I was forced to threaten violence. He understood this to mean I wanted his entire body pressed against mine. At this point, the off-duty waiter stood on one side of me while the very scary and large off-duty chef stood on the other, and the small but not-to-be-tangled-with bartendress bounced him, deliciously.

This is when I fell irrevocably in love with that town, as well as my newly-discovered necessity-is-the-mother-of-survival ability to be publicly social and make friends. The people there took me in, and made sure I was safe and rarely alone.


The boyfriend and I had often discussed our age difference and the fact that I had children. He seemed unperturbed by both. He has a personality that seems game for and open to anything, so it was easy to believe.

I warned him repeatedly that while I was lucky to have my father's young-looking face genes, I was still actually 40 years old, with two children - and that neither was I genetically blessed with snap-right-the-fuck-back-like-it-never-happened skin, nor was I a petite girl. He told me repeatedly that I was beautiful.


On my second full day, the boyfriend's father dropped him off at my hotel for a few hours before he had to go to work. He was still reliant upon his family for rides while his car was being repaired, so I was a big fan of his father for bringing him.

Once his car was fixed (on my fourth full day), he managed to visit whenever he wasn't working - but his family was still having paroxysms about him spending the night (although he still remained for a couple of them) because in their logic-soaked wisdom, one can only fornicate after bedtime. I am forced to agree, since everyone I know has their most unseemly and perverted sexual experiences while unconscious and drooling against a pillow, next to someone doing exactly the same.

But we had a lot of good times, just being strange people sharing the same space. We clicked, and he made me feel even more beautiful in person than he had before we met. I felt at ease around him, and I dreaded the end of my visit.

One of my favorite experiences - initially - was visiting his parents property to meet all of his pets. I greeted his three dogs and he and I spent time walking around as they played. I stared at his view of the mountains as he picked raspberries from his yard and handed them to me. I met his fluffy cat, his blond ferret. A low-key, yet beautiful experience. Until ...

The eldest brother walked outside, stared hard at the two of us just standing there together, yet separated by more than mere inches, and shook his head judgmentally before he walked inside the parents house. As I was attempting to take a photo of one of the ugliest toads I'd ever seen, oldest and youngest brother emerged and approached. I put my camera down and waited.

The youngest spoke, in a halting manner, not making eye contact, only gesturing in my general vicinity. I barely heard a full sentence before I realized I was being kicked off the premises. I had a split second where I considered rushing, confronting - but rejected that in favor of restraint. Instead, while the brother was still mid-sentence, I walked - quickly - to the car, flipping the bird while not looking back. You can take the girl out of Jersey ...

This was not the first and certainly not the last lovely moment that family decided to pulverize, without spending a single second getting to know me.


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Monday, August 11, 2014

Turbulence (part1)

I'm feeling turbulent, yet docile. As if the fight has been beaten out of me, or I just used up too much of my stores, in too short of a time - and I feel sick from it.

I went on an adventure. I never do that. I stay inside, where it's safe. "Not inside" may have its merits, but outside ate me alive. I guess I didn't know how to do it. Here's the story of how my life unfolded from July 5th to the present.


I arrived at the smallest airport I've ever seen, two hours early. It took me less than a minute to get through the security checkpoint. There was a sign in the two-gate terminal pointing toward a restaurant, which was a few vending machines, two of which were done broke. So I sat, awkwardly waiting, knowing I had three planes to board before I'd be finished traveling - sober - as is not my habit for getting someplace via flying titanium death tube.

I was simply determined to get to my destination and receive every moment crisp and sharp. The experience needed to be permanently seared into my memory.

I choked back a full-blown panic attack as the last flight was about to land, and stepped off and out with a warrior's confident resignation, ready to meet my victory or doom.

Searching, I heard my name. It was him. I dropped my bag and we exchanged a ... public hug. He told me later I'd made a desperate, quiet screech when I spotted him. Probably. We trotted straight to his car, and while driving, we decided to get food. I tried not to stare at him, but failed. His head is truly and spectacularly enormous.

The drive lingered, as they do when you're sat next to a man you've just met, and you haven't a clue what they're thinking about the much older woman who's been instantly dropped into their physical world.

Suddenly, he misses the road and we're hitting something on the median. He's shredded his tire and all I can do is giggle, especially when as we're hobbling and vibrating to a parking lot, his rear view mirror pops off and hits my leg.

Parked, I watch him, gracefully hopping, attempting to fix the tire. The shitty jack collapses, dropping the car and pinning his hand - which he assures me is okay. He has to call his family for assistance. We wait, while the chemistry and tension is unbelievable and new to me.

His oldest and youngest brother arrive, largely ignoring me. After much effort, the tire is replaced, and we discover the car won't start. After even more effort, we're forced to abandon the vehicle and all pile into the same car, bound for my hotel.


We started talking in February, specifically Valentine's Day. He was like a dream - strange, enthusiastic, intelligent, hilarious, witty, and good-looking. He wasn't tall, but I like short guys. We clicked instantly, and we fell into a relationship of sorts very quickly. I attempted to end it early on - I was still married, albeit not happily (for either of us), he was significantly younger than me and the last thing I wanted was my heart broken, or a messy situation.

But I couldn't stay away from him, he fascinated me. We continued. I'm such an expert at life.

I had a big choice to make - whether or not he and I worked out - when it was clear we wanted to be totally exclusive and see where it was all going. I had to put a distance between myself and the husband. This set in motion him filing for divorce without discussion - it was probably a long time in coming. I don't blame him.

The boyfriend and I made our plans to meet, where he lived in Idaho. Tickets and hotel booked, we waited.


On the road, the ride with the brothers was pleasant enough. Actually, parts of it were gorgeous - until the eldest brother made a snidely judgmental decree about not knowing what I had planned with his brother, but that the definitely adult man I'd come a great distance at great expense to meet was in no uncertain terms not going to my hotel with me.

To say that I was stunned, panicked, angered and utterly saddened by this news would be like saying Judy Garland is just a teeny bit a gay icon, maybe possibly. I was ready to use brute strength to remove body parts from anyone getting in my way. But I had to show restraint.

I was dumped at my hotel, 'round about 2:30am, left to fend for myself for an indefinite duration. I was in a strange town with no friends except the one being ripped away from me. I had no telephone in my room, nor did I have cell service. I was stranded, with no knowledge of the lay of the land.


The boyfriend - an atheist - had explained that his family was very religious. I knew the oldest brother was overly religious - on a scale of "a bit churchy" to "oh my god, did he just chuck a bible at my head and call me a irredeemable sinner?" - this guy was at an 11. Roughly a "no way, that's almost funny, yet I'm scared. Ha ha. Ha. Um."

He also warned that his mother was ... well, this is not his particular phrasing, but I'll call it "aggressively and most assuredly fucking nuts to the point of having a cadre of squirrels chasing her, on the daily."

I also was made well aware that his two youngest brothers thought I was a hideous beast of an old lady, who was apt to ruin his life somehow, but that his dad was cool with me.

Ha ha. Ha.

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Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Major Update

Things have been decidedly crazy lately, even for my weird life.

For starters, as is tradition with my laptops, my trusty bamboo Asus took its last trip under my sweaty fingers, not long before my birthday (which is on July 8th, for those of you planning to send me hand-made cards and trinkets that don't smell like vanilla). It was creeping toward death for awhile after an errant passionate gesture spilled beer on its sacred keyboard - it had taken up typing the letter j incessantly, f11-ing back and forth rapidly until I crumpled in a heap from seizures, as well as opening and closing developer tools.

As a result, I'd taken up beating the shit out of it because I have the patience of a spoiled Queen. This murdered the shitty hard drive, which I replaced. I lost everything I hadn't recently backed up on the old hard drive, despite my sister's best efforts, which basically ruined my soul. The universe wasn't done with me yet, though - within hours of learning the fateful end of quite a bit of work I'd done for my blog, I gracefully dumped the laptop from the height of two feet, cracking the screen.

The very same fucking evening, my son woke up in the middle of the night, grumpily demanding a snack and in his frustration at having his snack delivered in a timely fashion, smacked his cup of water onto his father's laptop, frying it soundly. It seems no laptop is safe when my birthday looms.


Ordinarily I would have replaced my laptop, however the money I had earmarked for that purpose now has to be utilized for moving out on my own, since I am in the process of a divorce. It's a fairly amicable one, and was honestly a long time in coming.

Also, I have a 23-year old boyfriend. Okay, you're up to date.

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Tuesday, June 10, 2014

I Play Sims Asylum (part13)

Listen, Sweets - I find outdoor workbenches as infuriating as the next raving lunatic ...
... but maybe we can dial it down a couple notches below tantrum level Arthur Derrick.
Some TV might hit the spot. It's got Eve so relaxed she's storing her finger tips in her thighs. Give it a shot.
Uh-oh, Husbro.
He's a-plotting. Ya better sleep with one eye peeled and the other eye open.
I suspect his plan has something to do with that decorative bicycle bell he wears on his hip.
Husbro, your explosive innocent face is improving!
Okay, guys - I don't want to interrupt uh ... okay, maybe I do want to interrupt. We're about to have the party.
Is this some sort of pre-party oath? I don't know if we have the time.

Our first guest is booking through the front door and we're not even changed into celebration attire.
Formal wear vortex! Quickly!
Or just freeze with a creeper grin on your face. That's good, too.
I think you passed him going eighty, guy.
Hmm. Bunny. Bunny?
I haven't seen her stare this hard since 'nam.
Pace yourselves, you two.
Grumplestiltskin hates everything.
Uh-oh, Sweets is crapping hearts.
"Have you met the girl just sprinting in? I think I'm in love with her."
Unfortunately, Sweets, she appears to have some sort of business with Husbro.
Mayhaps you dodged a bullet, though.
I don't blame you, Eve. I'd offer my arm to the fish after seeing that, too.
On a scale of 1 to Can't With This, I think it's clear where Rev stands.
Aww, lookit Sweets. He hopes I dance.
Gather 'round. I'll oblige.
Alright, I'm going. I hope I don't pull several things.
Oops. You know what I need to do?
I totally gotta poop. Hi, Sweets.
What're you ...
No freakin' way.
All this time. It finally happened. Double poop, all the way. But what does it MEAN!?
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Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Surprise! I'm an idiot.

Before I became a mother, I used to love doing experiments on my body with drugs.

Many years ago, I was really into taking Ambien, and then not going to sleep. As most people know, when you take Ambien - especially extra Ambien - without being strapped down to your bed two seconds after swallowing it, you end up doing a lot of shit that seems logical at the time (it never is). You also wake up with amnesia, which is only cured by a forensic piecing together of the events based on the insane clues you left for yourself. For me, the memories would basically come back, but it usually took a few days.

I once hid soap. I have no idea who I was hiding it from (myself, maybe?), but I found it under the bathroom sink in an empty tampon box. Of course.

My sister often reminds me about the night I decided we desperately needed to have a sleepover in her bedroom. She had bunk beds, but I decided it made a lot more sense to drag my mattress through the hallway and throw it on her floor. I'm guessing my original plan was to stick it on top of the existing mattress on the top bunk, but fortunately Ambien does not bestow upon a person freakish strength.

Another time, I took it during singles group at my church. We ended up going to a diner, which we usually did afterward, and instead of ordering a cheeseburger like I always would, I decided to get ravioli. Don't order ravioli from a diner, seriously. Also, don't drive a car after taking Ambien. There could be only one other car on the road for miles, but you are guaranteed to hit that car.

The most elaborately bizarre experience was when I was spending the night at my friend Jamie's apartment. That was the evening I had a revelation - despite that I am the most terrible artist I've ever seen, I just knew that it was all going to change now that I'd discovered charcoal pastels and huge pieces of paper. I made several masterpieces, thrilled with my new-found talent. The next morning, I found a whole buncha huge pieces of paper filled with amorphous, smudgy blobs.

But that wasn't my only bout of creativity that night. "Give me that roll of tape!" I demanded of Jamie. She handed it to me with a sense of urgency usually reserved for stuff like lifeboat-boarding. She stood, awaiting further instructions. "I need something to tape!" I insisted. "Give me something to tape!" She became paralyzed with fear and indecision. It was now up to me. "The ketchup bottle! The ketchup bottle!" I commanded, as quick on my feet as ever. She practically threw it at me, so relieved to have the responsibility taken from her shoulders.

I began carefully winding the tape around the bottle, practically sweating with concentration. I finally reached the neck of the bottle and decided that it needed a good old ruffle. After that, I grabbed a pen, scribbled something on it, then handed it back to Jamie triumphantly, who dutifully stuck it into her fridge, for some arcane reason, since one should never have to suffer the pain of cold ketchup.

By the light of day, Jamie opened the fridge and discovered her ketchup and silently handed it to me, at the absolute threshold of how confused it's possible to look without your eyes running away from their sockets. I took the bottle. It read, "eat your ketchup now, children. there will be no ketchup in hell."

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Tuesday, May 27, 2014

I Play Sims Asylum (part12)

"Now be a good boy and go stand in the shower fully clothed until somebody tries to burn the Asylum down..."
Great. The hot dogs are burnt again.
Alright, y'all, you know what to do - commence panicking.
Tip-top trepidation there, Arthur Derrick.
You're all precious gemstones.
Hey, do any of you mind if I do a little freestyle here?
Of course you don't. Check this shit out, I'm amazing. My vagina can do anything.
Oh yeah, sorry to have worn you out with the fire I didn't start, but managed to extinguish, Sweets.
You probably need a snack.
I think I might be doing the hot dog procedure incorrectly. I'm supposed to rub my food on a friend for extra flavor.
Well, this is embarrassing.
Ooh, Eve - you should know better than to eye up Rev's dog. Nobody's in the mood for anything tonight.
It's hard to find the words I need to ask about this.
Oh hey, thanks Arthur Derrick. You're a peach.
I don't know what I would have done without you to transfer the pile of filthy laundry ... over. A little.
Is the TV broken again? Couldn't we be watching literally anything else but this?
Here we go, a grand idea. Pillow fights are never not edifying.
You really detect the uplifting of her mind and character.
Even Lord Sweets is receiving some second-hand improvementations.
Not a moment too soon, either - he's been kicking up some naughtiness which is getting stuck right in my craw.
For one thing, I don't like having to catch any face-sass when I'm just trying to have a nice stare with one of my friends.
It makes it really hard to enjoy having my crotch intensely examined through my night shirt.

And he shouldn't be doing that thing with his neck. It's just fuckin' creepy and it gives Rev
permission to do whatever this thing she's doing is, which I kind of don't like much.
He's also started sitting like this. It's like trying to watch television next to someone who's
about to murder me with soft, lotioned hands and then knit a scarf from my hair. Or something.
He's gotta stop following me around, too.
He is really bleaching my bricks today. I'm about to do something bad with a sword.
Oh good, these two are the perfect distraction.
And I totally agree with you, too. We should throw a party. I hope somebody brings a platter of something.

I Play Sims Asylum (part13)
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