The Chronicles of Blackheart Lola

Her Blackheartedness

2009-07-15T11:12:00.000-07:00

Fishing at Frog Alley. Unfortunately patience is one thing Lola has a shortage of so we ended up catching frogs, tadpoles and some sun instead.

You can't see her prize very well but it's a tadpole. Her "babeeee frog."

The Fox River is full of pollution. Good Mummy that I am, I let my pretty little gal play in it...but I have been checking to make sure she isn't growing any extra extremities.

Lo took a face plant practically INTO THE BEAR PIT less than a millisecond after this shot was taken. Notice the hungry bears searching for food in the background? They would have eaten my baby! Ahh, still my beating, panicky heart, everything turned out ok, she merely fell into the bushes and got a brusied nose. But still...

My child loves meat. Yuck.

Lola's getup for a wedding, along with a wedding duck.

Have Brick, Willing to Bash Heads In

2009-07-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

I heard a conversation a short while ago that sounded something like this:

Asshole 1: The moment the US started caring about countries is when we started going downhill, Iraq has terrorists in it. The correct response should be to bomb the whole country. If civilians die, who cares? The cost of war, man.

Asshole 2: Yeah, I mean, that's how wars are won.

Me, in my head because really? why bother...: Ever heard of Just War Theory you dumbfuck? Like we need to be hated MORE by the rest of the world for blanket-bombing an entire country indiscriminately. Oh yeah, and ever heard of Timothy McVeigh? The US has terrorists in it too, are civilians still fair game?

Honestly, I am all for free speech but sometimes I wish that to qualify for it, there had to be some sort of IQ test. Or maybe a wait-time, like for buying a gun. Stupid, stupid....

Oh Me Oh My, Back With a Vengeance

2009-07-06T10:24:00.001-07:00

Guess who just got reminded that she has a blog and should be recording some of the crazy shit that's been happening? Yes, I admit, I've been a horrible blogger and I don't even have the blackblog-screen of death to blame this time around. Instead, I blame it on laziness and sheer complacency.

So dear friends, since I'm obsessed with words, let's to the dictionary:

Main Entry:
com·pla·cen·cy
Pronunciation:
\-sən(t)-sē\
Function:
noun
Inflected Form(s):
plural com·pla·cen·cies
Date:
1650
1 : self-satisfaction especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies

Now, when I think of complacency, I see a cute little mouse on the forest floor, happily nibbling away at whatever the hell mice eat, fruit? Let's just say fruit. This is mouse is happy, she found her snack through the judicious use of her senses, through perseverance and luck. She's congratulating itself of a job well-done when
WHAM!
the snake that had been creeping up behind it strikes. The mouse doesn't have time to be scared, it's just shocked, amazed, a tad resigned and mostly annoyed that it wasn't allowed to finish it's last meal.

This story has two purposes:
1. This is the reason I don't feed my snake live mice. I can empathize with the mouse far easier than my snake.
2. This is a parable (albeit a bad one) for my recent topsy-turvy switcheroo-shenanigans. Ummm, I am the mouse.

Since this situation is long, complex and I'm at work (shhh.) I'm going to be general but details will eventually arise since I'm full of a new determination to keep this blog going. This blog is a perfect arena of introspection and could have served as the eyes in the back of my head, which would've saved that stupid mouse/me from this situation. Right? Because if the mouse could see the snake coming... (Wow, this analogy is getting worse)

Nesto = my hard-won, sweet, sweet fruit.
Again, I am the mouse.
One of the few men that made me cry in high school, let's name him Tom- the snake.

I finally get Nesto, I enjoy him immensely. I feel all butterflies-romance-giggles-orgasms. I'm behaving myself, minding my own damn business when I go to find a buddy of mine across the bar and he's in deep conversation with someone. I'm thinking, "awww, Ryan found a friend," as I slide into the booth across from them, look up and nearly lose my bottom jaw/bladder control.

WHAM!

It's the snake, Tom.

Wow, Tom was/is my ideal. Huger-than-huge crush on this man, lost to me forever through a woman I also thought was hot. Come home. Sitting across from me. Smiling.

SHIT.

The rest they say is history. I went on the prowl, caught me a Tom and now I'm in a pickle. But y'know what? This is the best pickle I've ever had, way better than Claussens, a muthafuckin' pickle sammich!

We'll see where this goes?

**Disclaimer: I am not using snake with any intention of conveying the traits of sneakiness, "slipperiness," or any other negative connotations. I happen to be a huge fan of snakes, both named Tom and otherwise.**

Disasters Are Relative

2009-04-21T14:10:00.000-07:00

I sure was cursing the weather gods today when I awoke because there was a layer of snow on the rooftops.

Now, I'm cursing myself for thinking this was such a big deal. My mother just called me with the news that my grandma is in the hospital. The matriarch of our clan, 94 with class and sass, not invincible.

Ok, let's all stop for a "DUH, Etta!" moment. She's going to be 95 in May, most people don't make it that old, it's going to happen sometime. I've half-joked about being the one that Grandma is going to croak on and I've envisioned buying her house after she's gone, but really imagining her gone? That's flat-out impossible, she's too fucking set in her ways to actually die and I'm not ready at all.

That's it, I'm not ready, so it can't happen. Sounds good right? Let's see how it works.

Feeling Fine

2009-04-20T08:05:00.000-07:00

I absolutely adore being alone and fucked up. I sit quietly smoking cigarettes (!) and reflect on the weather, the city nightlife, my state of mind, my relationships and problems. I let myself laugh aloud at myself. The neighbors might think I'm nuts, but damn does it feel good. Due to the f'ed up part, neither time, weather, state of dress or undress or typical day to day problems impede on my mind. I just hang out...with myself.

I had one of these nights on Saturday and I feel better, clearer for it. These are my mind vacations, all for the affordable price of one cheap bottle of red wine. A deal if I must say so myself. (My preferred poison is either Yellowtail Merlot or Ecco Domani Merlot but it was Purple Moon Shiraz this time around.)

I went to Nesto's house, got cozy with him and apparently wore the poor guy out because he was out cold. While I was lying next to him, a light bulb flamed on, here it was, time for a mind vacation! I used the sneaky bed-exiting skills I've perfected on Lola, grabbed my wine, cigarettes and Nesto's leather jacket and headed for the porch. Sitting on wet chair, wearing a jacket sans anything else, I drank my wine and smiled at my mini revelations.

Here's a few I came across: Although I don't endorse slaughter of animals, certainly don't eat meat and probably never will again, I do like the weight of a good leather jacket.

Wisconsin springs are like a breath of fresh fucking air after WI winters. My Louisiana family was in town complaining of the chill while I was sighing with relief at the amazing lack of snow while half-nekked. Hooray.

I really like Nesto. Example of cuteness: He "raises" his own tomato plants from seeds and then transfers them to his backyard. Then, when his scandalous neighbors steal the fruit of his labor, he acknowledges the fact that "they're really good," and this seems to be an acceptable excuse for the thievery.

And finally: polishing off a bottle of wine by yourself on an empty stomach? Always a good thing. I feel fine.

Ode to Royboy

2009-04-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to create a post to Roy for awhile now and today (you lucky bastards) is the day.

Roy is my BFF, a title which I actually introduce him to others as. Yeah, I get weird looks and disdainful half-grins from people, secretly thinking: "did she seriously just say that?" And you know what? I don't care. I'm not ashamed to introduce this man in all his charm and sheer audacious asshole-ness as my Best Friend 4Eva.

And the lame part about it, I've heard him introduce me the same way. Gag.

Roy and I started out enemies on the high school bus. I dreaded riding this bus because I know he was going to start some shit and I would be obligated to end it. He was a racist, sexist, pompous, Republican asshole and I hated his fucking guts. (I believe that may be a direct quote from a note passed in Econ.)

Anyway, we had mutual friends and I learned that he was really rich. Like, really rich. And this scored in his favor, not in the ususal way that "really rich" scores points, but in the manner that you would never in a million years know that Roy is rich from his demeanor. He dressed (and still does) like a hick from the sticks, drove a shitty old Ford Aerostar van that was maroon and smelled of chickens and expired dog food and never even mentioned money.

Eventually we put aside our animosity over underage keg parties and our mutual love of animals and founded a rock-solid friendship in between bong rips and attending traumatic funerals .

Roy is still an asshole, but he's slowly recovering. His sexism and racism rarely show their unwelcome faces (at least around me because I'll rip his head off...) but he's my counterpart in all the ways that count.

This is the guy who hears it all, who knows the best and the worst of me. We disagree on just about everything but we do it with love. My confidante who hangs out with me, hears my stories, makes fun of me so much I just want to kill him...and then do it all over again next weekend.

When people mention a sexual connection between us, I get offended and angry. How dare they besmirch our relationship with such a base desire?! Who the fuck do they think they are? And do they know who we are? We are Etta and Roy, a fabulous heterosexual, non-sexual life partnership.

So readers, consider this post a giant glass of your favorite stuff and please join me in raising it to Royboy, my BFF.

It's My Birthday and I'll Barf If I Want To

2009-04-09T08:24:00.000-07:00

I've been a real homebody lately. Lola, books, Nesto, I've been reveling in the three of them. I definitely go through streaks in which I prefer to be alone, to be quiet, to listen to myself think. When Lola isn't yapping, that is. Along with this hermit inclination, I consciously decided to exercise regularly, eat healthy-ish and abstain from my nightly glass of wine.

The first two are pretty self-explanatory, I want to look nice and feel nice. The wine though, ahhhh, I LOVE WINE. Cheap wine. Dry, red wine. Yummmmmm.... When I found myself actually wishing I could have a glass of wine for breakfast before work though, I decided to lay off the sauce for awhile. And it's worked out well, I feel good about it.

Well, today is my birthday. And last night I was due to go out with my Wednesday night pals, Roy and Meg. Royboy bailed on me, go figure but Meg and I got saucy.

After some Celtic Crossing shots and during bar dice I remembered the problem with drinking after a hiatus. Those limits I was so comfortable with, the limits I had meticulously researched during my late teen years in a journal dedicated specifically to my limits...had dropped. DRASTICALLY.

So, I ended up giving myself an intimate encounter with the Porcelain God for my birthday...twice.

Being hungover on your birthday should be impossible along with getting sick while pregnant. I guess I could thank my lucky stars I am neither sick nor pregnant but I'm too fucking hungover.

So wise am I in my 24 years.

A Corporate Crossroads

2009-04-06T09:40:00.001-07:00

So, my bossman just offered me a salary. Like, a raise with security. For him and me (?)

I've been entertaining the idea that I'd be leaving this job soon. A veni, vidi, vici sort of a thing. When I arrived, I was suprised the company was still in business: how do you track how much each job costs you? I got a Scoobie Doo-like "Ruuoughr?" as an answer. Yikes. Ok, said I, where are your old tax documents? Blank stares. Oh brother.

I enjoyed the challenge, I bullied the guys into organization and obsured myself amongst stormclouds of flying paper. I felt guilty and naughty as I disposed of garbage cans full of old, pointless-to-keep marketing materials on the sly. I white-boarded the walls, file cabineted the hallway, hanging foldered everything. I also attempted to keep the kitchen clean, the fridge free of moldy, forgotten lunches, the bathrooms stocked up on air freshener.

Now, the company has a system. If I was really determined, I could write out directions step by step and someone could do my job, day to day. After awhile, as long as they aren't a complete moron, they'd be able to take care of any suprises not on the list, and then they'd be me.

I guess I'm saying that I'm bored. The challenge has been neutralized with effectiveness and I've been mentally preparing myself for a change. Bookstore! Cheesecake baker! Something else!

But, the worry of the stability of such of job worries me. My favorite bookstore just closed after decades in the business and the cheesecake store is opening up in downtown Menomonee Falls, a veritable death sentence for any small business brave enough to open it's doors within county lines. I must work, my job is cushy and now as permanent as jobs go, if I want it...

But I'm so frickin' bored and I can feel myself getting dumber every time I answer the phone in my faux-cheerful "work voice."

What do I do?

Ahhh, Good Ol' Iowa

2009-04-03T14:13:00.000-07:00

What fabulous news on a fabulous Friday. Three cheers for Iowa!

Iowa Supreme Court legalizes gay marriage

By AMY LORENTZEN, Associated Press Writer Amy Lorentzen, Associated Press Writer – 48 mins ago

DES MOINES, Iowa – Iowa's Supreme Court legalized gay marriage Friday in a unanimous and emphatic decision that makes Iowa the third state — and first in the nation's heartland — to allow same-sex couples to wed.
I
owa joins only Massachusetts and Connecticut in permitting same-sex marriage. For six months last year, California's high court allowed gay marriage before voters banned it in November.

The Iowa justices upheld a lower-court ruling that rejected a state law restricting marriage to a union between a man and woman.
The county attorney who defended the law said he would not seek a rehearing. The only recourse for opponents appeared to be a constitutional amendment, which could take years to ratify.

"We are firmly convinced the exclusion of gay and lesbian people from the institution of civil marriage does not substantially further any important governmental objective," the Supreme Court wrote.
Iowa lawmakers have "excluded a historically disfavored class of persons from a supremely important civil institution without a constitutionally sufficient justification."

To issue any other decision, the justices said, "would be an abdication of our constitutional duty."

The Iowa attorney general's office said gay and lesbian couples can seek marriage licenses starting April 24, once the ruling is considered final.

"Iowa is about justice, and that's what happened here today," said Laura Fefchak, who awaited the decision at a party in the Des Moines suburb of Urbandale.

Her partner of 13 years, Nancy Robinson, added: "To tell the truth, I didn't think I'd see this day."

Des Moines attorney Dennis Johnson, who argued on behalf of gay and lesbian couples, said "this is a great day for civil rights in Iowa."
"We have all of you courageous plaintiffs to thank: Go get married, live happily ever after, live the American dream," he said.

In its decision, the Supreme Court upheld an August 2007 decision by a judge who found that a state law limiting marriage to a man and a woman violates the constitutional rights of equal protection.

The Polk County attorney's office claimed that Judge Robert Hanson's ruling violated the separation of powers and said the issue should be left to the Legislature.

The case had been working its way through the courts since 2005, when Lambda Legal, a New York-based gay rights organization, filed a lawsuit on behalf of six gay and lesbian couples in Iowa.

The Supreme Court noted that any new distinction based on sexual orientation "would be equally suspect and difficult to square" with the state's constitution.

John Logan, a sociology professor at Brown University, said Iowa's status as a largely rural, Midwest state could enforce an argument that gay marriage is no longer a fringe issue.

"When it was only California and Massachusetts, it could be perceived as extremism on the coasts and not related to core American values.

"But as it extends to states like Iowa, and as attitudes toward gay marriage have evidently changed, then people will look at it as an example of broad acceptance," Logan said. Polk County Attorney John Sarcone said his office will not ask for the case to be reconsidered.

"Our Supreme Court has decided it, and they make the decision as to what the law is, and we follow Supreme Court decisions," Sarcone said.
Gay marriage opponents have no other legal options to appeal the case to the state or federal level because they were not parties to the lawsuit, and there is no federal issue raised in the case, Sarcone said.

Bryan English, spokesman for the Iowa Family Policy Center, a conservative group that opposes same-sex marriage, said many Iowans are disappointed with the ruling and do not want courts to decide the issue.

"I would say the mood is one of mourning right now in a lot of ways," English said. He said the group immediately began lobbying legislators "to let the people of Iowa vote" on a constitutional amendment.

"This is an issue that will define (lawmakers') leadership. This is not a side issue."

Iowa has a history of being in the forefront on social issues. It was among the first states to legalize interracial marriage and to allow married women to own property. It was also the first state to admit a woman to the bar to practice law and was a leader in school desegregation.
Todd Pettys, a University of Iowa law professor, said the state's equal protection clause on which Friday's ruling was based is worded slightly differently than the U.S. Constitution. But Iowa's language means almost "exactly the same thing."

Still, he said, it's difficult to predict whether the U.S. Supreme Court would view the issue the same way as the Iowa justices. Linda McClain, professor at Boston University School of Law, said she doubted Iowa's ruling would be "a realistic blueprint" for the U.S. Supreme Court," particularly considering the court's conservative leadership.
Senate Majority Leader Mike Gronstal, a Democrat, said state lawmakers were unlikely to consider gay marriage legislation in this legislative session, which is expected to end within weeks.

Gronstal also said he's "not inclined" to propose a constitutional amendment during next year's session.
Iowa's Democratic governor, Chet Culver, said he would review the decision before announcing his views.
___
Associated Press writers Nigel Duara in Urbandale and Marco Santana, Melanie S. Welte, Michael Crumb and Mike Glover in Des Moines contributed to this report.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090403/ap_on_re_us/iowa_gay_marriage

Beautiful, beautiful butterflies!

2009-03-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

Sigh, trying not to smile...failed.

The butterflies are back. I thought the butterflies might have been killed off entirely by the tired Tee debacle but they are back, full swing. Despite the fact that Nesto is from a patriarchal culture that feels the need to suffocate, I mean, "take care of" it's women, despite the fact that there's his ex that wants me crucified, despite Tee's passive-aggressive sabotage at every turn...I've got the muthafuckin' butterflies.

Saturday: We went to one bar, I was hit upon while Nesto was in the bathroom and he was very gracious in getting rid of the dude, appreciated. At the next bar, El Rodeo, I tried some Mexican dances, but mostly ended up stepping on his feet. I ended up running into a guy I know (in a basement bar on the South side of Milwaukee where I speak the same language as maybe one in seven people), but left in a hurry as a group of guys wanted to pound Nesto into tortilla dough because he picked my sweatshirt off the floor! Not so cool. (It was a "disrespect" thing. Also known as: find someone you want to start a fight with and cite an intangible offense like disrespect as the cause, psst - it's almost impossible to disprove this because the music is always too loud to speak civilly and then you can accuse the innocent of yelling at you.)

Let me share the best conversation of the night:

ER: (Don't forget sexy accent in your head) "Can you believe those fuckin' guys? What was that Marco guy saying to you? Whatever he was saying to you, he should've been saying to me, he shouldn't have bothered you...."

ET: "Soooo, are we going back to your house now? I don't want to get you into trouble, I know you're in a sticky spot still with the ex but I sure would like to come home with you."

ER: "...those guys along the bar knew that was bullshit, they were trying to explain to the owner what happened. I'm sorry that happened, those fuckers. Why would they think I was starting a fight, I'm with my girl? "

ET: "Nesto, I have no clue what the fuck just happened there, everybody was yelling in language I don't understand BUT I'm sitting here, practically throwing myself at you. ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME HOME WITH YOU OR WHAT?"

ER: "Oh. Oh! I'm sorry Etta (At-tah), I didn't mean to..."

ET: laughing

ER: "You coming home with me."

And the rest of the night was spent reviving butterflies. Sigh.

The next morning, I had plans to help Tee move and so had to scurry home but Nesto walked me to my car and asked me to stay with him, if I could.

That right there is a cause for pause. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. I am caught completely unprepared by Nesto's willingness to jump right in and spend some serious quality time. His charming eagerness to grow a relationship is in stark contrast to my jaded, self-erected electric fence.

He wants five kids, I'm happy with my one. He wants a wife, I am desirous of a good time, minus the strings. He has few friends, instead favoring "his girl," I wish I had more time to be with and make more friends. His contrary beliefs are admirable and simultaneously irritating.

In his cheerful compliments and spontaneous displays of affection, my comfortable role of seductress is fast becoming a woman who is way out of her comfort zone; bewildered, but liking it. Despite this, I will remain faithful to my number one assertion that I am NOT wife material, no matter how Nesto tries to convince me I am. Although he has gotten me to agree to sexual exclusivity, a large leap indeed.

Pirate Folk

2009-03-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

I think it's just part of being human to anticipate and enjoy an altered sense of reality. How many of our ancestors smoked pot, ate halucinogens and drank themselves silly? Even little ones enjoy spinning till they fall, a childhood version getting high. This picture is me and Lo, spinning high together.

Lola, last summer with a found piece of treasure. The changes in her face since this picture was taken are outstanding, the curls however are the same.

Why am I wearing dress in a storage unit?

Me, surrounded by fire-damaged contents in our back warehouse. What a goofy picture of the Mama pirate.

Sporting the green with s'more co-workers. We took this picture for proof of my company "patriotism" because my brother-in-law likes to complain that I don't love it properly. I argue back that my one caveat in taking the job offer was that I could wear whatever I want and rarely do I want florescent green t-shirts.

My Pants Are On Fire!

2009-03-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

I know Lola has been conspicuously absent from Blackheart Lola lately, she's taking a long lunch but I expect her back soon. Ugh, my office persona just butted in. No, she's wonderful, thriving and sassy, just as you'd expect a little Lola to be and her updates are coming soon, promise!
In the meantime, I will bore you with my revolving-door love life s'more. Behold:

Saturdays are a day full of excitement for me, the day I love waking up early on so I can get to the bookstore, the specialty grocers, hit up a cafe for lunch, hike and be active with my Lo. Two Saturdays ago, I got more than I bargained for. Lola was sick with a flu/cold combo that was kicking both our asses so when she slept in (past 8am) on Saturday, I thanked my lucky stars and slept on.

Until Nesto called. Usually a great source of joy, he called apologizing right off the bat. Since we haven't even gotten a chance to become close enough to fight, I had NO idea what he was apologizing for. It soon became clear, however his ex had "found" a text from me and wished to speak with me as she didn't believe him when he said he wasn't a liar, a cheat and a very bad man.

He felt really bad so I told him, "sure, have her call me. I'm awake now, might as well." Well, call she did, during a horrible I'm-too-tired-and-sick-to-do-anything-but-lay-on-the-floor-and-cry episode from Lo. Between the bouts of screaming, she framed her questions in a firm and suspicious manner but she was kind and real and believed me as I lied to her.

Granted, this is a Friends scenario where her and Nesto were already broken up but should I have driven him back to his car instead of bringing him home with me? Probably. Should he have answered "car" when I gave him the option of car or couch? Probably. Do I feel bad for "going for it?" No, not in the slightest. Do I feel bad for lying? Yes, more horribly than I could have anticipated.

Lying to her about my feelings for Nesto can only mean trouble down the road (if there is indeed a road) as they have a child together and we will be coming into contact with one another. While she may be a bit high strung, I can empathize with her feelings over their breakup after 13 (!!) years together and I can tell ya what, I sure wouldn't like being directly lied to by the "other" woman after I have to balls to call and question said woman. I feel terrible because she could be me and I could be her, but for a few simple twists of fate. Bad karma is whispering threats in my ear.

Most of all, I feel bad because she was nice. Maybe if I look at it from a "white lie" perspective in which my lie actually helped her, I would feel better. Did I save her unnecessary grief? They were already broken up, she moved out this past weekend. Would the knowledge have helped her heal in anyway, doubtful? If they were broken up, is it any of her goddamn business? White lie status nonwithstanding, the important question is this: Do I still feel like a huge douchebag?
The answer is a resounding "YES."

ADDENDUM:
Nesto just brought me some tea during the writing of this post and while the tea alone is delicious, the thinking of me part really gets my goose. Charming motherfucker. May he be worth the shanking I might suffer at the hands of his ex...

When Fungus Is Amongus, A Post For Stewie

2009-03-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I abandoned my baby to her father's loving arms and fled to the Dells. To any non-Wisconsinites, this is the tourist town you flee to for a variety of reasons, some of which include Noah's Ark, go-karting, indoor water parks, assloads of bars or simply to lose yourself in the kitschy neon lights. Think along the lines of a chlorinated spring break destination for the destitute northerner....

Anyways, we gathered for my friend's birthday and like every other time we gather, there is food, homemade, lots of it. Mari made German chocolate birthday cupcakes, fruit salad, sandwich supplies. I brought along a banana blueberry bread and good cheer. With my Marbar however, you can be sure there will be some sort of culinary plan within a plan, so you have to ask about illicit ingredients in homemade food before chowing down or you may unwittingly find yourself with an altered reality.

Never one to disappoint, a quick search of the guitar bag revealed some homegrown hallucingens, tucked into Lindt chocolate with a decorative pecan topping. An artistic one, that Mari.

I'll skip over the craziness of an indoor water park crawling with people while under the influence, suffice it say that it was fun...and weird. I'll skip over the the hotel bars I got persuaded to visit while under the influence, suffice it say it was tedious. I'll even skip over the sensual massage sessions, suffice it to say they were niiiiiceeeee. Fast forward all the way to the time when I decided to sleep.

After 10 hours of partying, I was tired. I snuggle in next to my Dobyns and begin to crash, only to be jostled awake by Troy snuggling me into an Etta sammich. Ok, whatever, my mama taught me to share. When Megan moved to the other bed with Billy in it, I shifted, allowing Troy a full half of the bed, methinks I was too kind in hindsight.

As I'm sinking into blessed unconsiousness, I feel a hand slide up my thigh and onto my ass. I removed it and flung it back to it's owner...and like a bad penny, it came back. All night.

I tried to find an alternate sleeping situation but that was a no-go, I tried pushing him off the bed, nope. I shook him, in hopes of waking him up enough to list my grievences so he could remedy the situation, ha, dream on. I got snuggled folks. I don't care to be touched while sleeping and not only was I touched, but I was fucking snuggled within an inch of my life. I awoke wrapped in Troy.

After escaping from his clutches, Dobyns went back into our room for her tea and came out laughing.

"Did you know Troy was naked?"

"What the fuck? NO! Eww, no."

So there it is, a moral for all you moralistic folks: when you are happy with the other occupant of your double bed, put it on lockdown.

Matrimonial Bliss? No Thanks!

2009-03-10T13:05:00.000-07:00

It's taken me almost 24 years, but I've discovered my superhero talent: causing breakups. Cool huh?

Not to be confused with a run-of-the-mill "other woman," my powers don't require flirting, shagging or even speaking with a member of the doomed couple. I merely wish them broken up, and it happens.

You know that old adage, be careful what you wish for? Not a joke. I've wished for Sexy Nesto AND Sexy Adjuster to be broken up with their mates and lo and behold:

Nesto's ex is moving out of the house in a week's time and Adjuster's wife has filed for a divorce and they are both asking me for some lovin'

Now, I realize this may be a blessing I should take advantage of (having caused this chaos with superpowers) but I'm a bit worried about dealing with men who have very recently gotten out of decade+ relationships.

My goal: I will be extremely clear that I am not Wifey II material.

Since I've had Nesto mention Lo and I moving in with him and how cute our children would be (as in: not our existing daughters but children we should create together- yikes!) and Adjuster ask if I'd like to meet his children, who were born while I was still in my early teens, this can't be put off...

Will this become more and more common as I get older? Men looking to tie me down forever and ever and ever? Sccccaaaaarrrrryyyy....

I'm Back: Intro and Randoms

2009-03-05T08:51:00.000-08:00

The Intro:
(Aka the email I sent to MB.)

You cured my fucking blog! I am convinced, in your almighty MB ways that by giving me a fabulous award, you have saved Blackheart Lola.

That's probably pretty incoherent, so let me explain. Last award, I was so excited. Thought through my answers, wrote a bit, answered a phone, came back and changed a line or two. I was creating a truly award-worthy post, y'see. Finally, it's done, I hit POST and the entire screen goes black.

For weeks, I've been periodically checking up on my magnificient blog of blackness to see if it's miraculously undouched itself. My computer-minded friends, the mighty internet, even the help boards couldn't save it, and I gave up.

I consoled myself in the fact that I could still keep up with the lives of my "regulars" but it wasn't until you gave me award #2 before I decided to click on my own link, one more time. For serendipity...

And wouldn't you know it, Mary Beth magic. Without further ado, I will blog for you madame.

Randoms:
(Aka kitchin up)

Last night as I was putting Lola to sleep, I had a thought and an urge to write about said thought. "Wish my blog was working." said my grey matter. Now, lo and behold, my blog IS working! and I forgot my thought. "Wish my grey matter was working!" says my blog.

I'm not real crazy about being buried. (Note to self, blog about body disposal.) There are so many awesome things you can do with your body after you are no longer using it, it seems a waste to pump it full of chemicals, put it in a satin-lined box and let it eventually rot and seep chemicals into satin and earth. That's too sanitized, wasteful and icky for me.
But after waking up this morning, wedged between Monkey and Lo, I may have softened my attitude a bit. I would be spending a happy eternity between the two of them, if it didn't mean they had to be dead as well. I think I'm still going to stick with my original plan: snuggle between them as much as I can while we're alive and then burn baby burn, after I'm dead. Oldie but goodie.

Things have been getting interesting on the man front but as one of them wants to read this blog, I'm not sure if I can comment quite yet. All I'm gonna say is that I went on one truly wonderful escapism Valentine's Day date which included books (three levels worth, hot damn!), wine and chow. Also, I took Nesto out with me and who should oh-wow-what-a-coincedence-show-up but Tee, so we hung out, the three of us for an hour or so. I don't remeber the last time I've been that uncomfortable, if ever.

A woman I know was pregnant and now is not. I guess deep down I hoped that she would choose the same route I did but I acknowledge the fact this route ain't for everyone. Shit, sometimes it ain't for me. Still doesn't help appease the hollow-soul grief I feel for her and the hard decision she had to face. I'm sorry lovie.

On that sorrowful note, I leave you. I am off to work. And in "work," I mean gather the information needed for my dead body post. Morbid? Maybe. Macabre? Just a touch. Interesting? Oh yes.

Happy, Happy Birthday Baby

2009-01-26T11:59:00.000-08:00

Aside from a few minutes, exactly two years ago I became a mom. Holy shit. What's that Dr. Seuss book every graduate gets? "Oh the places you'll go.." Well, I didn't go anywhere. Literally, I'm back at the same house as when I graduated but OH, THE PLACES I WENT.

My little girl has made my life meaningful. She's become a beacon of hope for our future, a blank slate I avidly watch become a person. She's the reason I work, she's my motivation to become a stronger, responsible woman. I want Lo to be proud of me, as proud of me as I am of her.

Going from anti-kid to pro-Lola was definitely a journey. I faced obstacles like health insurance, daycare and shitty strangers saying shitty things about my unmarried status but more importantly, I faced internal obstacles. People say, "it's all in your mind," like it's a comfort, but to me, that can be the scariest place of all. I was helped along the treacherous path of acceptance and eventual love of motherhood by some truly beautiful women and fellow mothers.

For her birthday, we are going to try a new cookie recipe, dance to some horrible Dora music, read some books and snuggle to sleep in our lovenest tonight. Tell me that doesn't sound like fabulous birthday bonding? I can't wait.

Although I can honestly say that I prefer Lo being toddler over a baby, I am thankful for her babyhood, grateful for her toddlerhood and look forward to each and every day after this with my gal.

Cheers Lo, thanks for being my daughter.

Honesty, A True Cure for the Mondays

2009-01-26T11:29:00.001-08:00

It's a two-parter today foo's, MB gave me an award! Me, Miss-Wins-Nothing-And-Likes-It! Tra-la-la, what a fabulous day! Award first and little things like LOLA'S BIRTHDAY (!!) will come after. Hooray for today.

Here are the rules for this award:

a) List 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep!

and

b) Pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap. Here goes:

1. I firmly believe in dying with dignity and support assisted suicide. Furthermore, I think a person's life is the one thing that truly belongs to him/her and ending that life is personal decision that shouldn't always be met with criticism or stigma. (Disclaimer: I don't think that people should go offing themselves left and right, just that they have the complete right to do so.)

2. I had a pig named MaryJane who just died a few days ago. She was living on a farm-type situation and because it was cold, I kept pushing off bringing her food and more blankets. Now she's dead and I feel so frickin' guilty! (Disclaimer II: She had her own shed, with straw and was fed regularly and has survived several WI winters in such a manner.)

3. I cheated on my first boyfriend, a good man, and to this day have not admitted it to him. Should I? Maybe, but what's the point anymore?

4. I prefer the company of my cat and my books to 90% of the people I know and profess to like. I do like them, but I love my cat and books.

5. I only write for BHL at work. So...technically...I get paid to blog.

6. I also smoke pot at work with my boss. So... I definitely get paid to get high.

7. My favorite bookstore is closing. It's a wonderful independent chain of eight stores, in business for 80 years! I've been buying books there since second grade, one of my favorite places in this world. Of course, I am very sad for them to be going out of business and all the employees out of jobs. I am most sad however because I've been working on this employee named Brian for years. I like immediate satisfaction people, years is a long time for me. Brian is cute in a booky-sort of way and while I can barely get him to greet me with eye contact, get this guy talking about fantasy books, or better yet, graphic novels and your ear might be in danger of getting talked off. Jeez, #7 is a novel! Anyway, I have to now take the plunge and ask this nerd out before he's lost to me, effectively ending my wait for better or worse. It's a bit sad to end our tense book-dance.

8. I treadmill 5 days a week with a huge mirror directly across the room so I can see myself walk. This isn't as vain as it sounds because I don't look that great doing it, kind of a step-jiggle-step pattern. This unsightly image paired with a noticeably smaller waist keeps me going at it.

9. I flirt with bartenders, adjusters, cashiers, stockers, waitstaff, telemarketers, truckers etc indiscriminately, in case being on good terms with them will help me in any way. I don't view this as entirely selfish because I'm sure they appreaciate a happy and flirtatioius customer/business partner/consumer etc over a crabby one. Win-win and if I can get something out of it, win-SCORE!

10. I get warm inner fuzzies when Lola doesn't want to go to Tee's mom's house. I certainly won't force her to go and then I don't have to go get her and pretend to enjoy the company of a person whose company I decidedly do NOT enjoy.

As for the people I feel deserve an award...I don't have seven. I know there are about a zillion bloggers out there but I only have a few I follow that don't get paid to do it. Not that getting paid to blog is a bad thing by any means, but they'll probably get awesome Las Vegas convention awards and so they won't get loving grassroots awards like my homeboys below:

1. Emily at Which Goose because she's creative, playful and beautiful. And because she's romantic and names bugs and shares her snappy sense of style.

2. Giyen at Bacon is My Enemy because she's strong, motivated and funny. And because she's a wonderful single mom, so she inspires me.

3. Timmy at The Next Best Place because he's adventurous, giving and fun. And because one of my best friends dated him while the other pissed on his bedroom wall.

4. Jason at Zola Jones because his blog is a perfect mixture of dignity, business (creator of my favortie purse ever!) and personal anecdotes. And because his cat and my kid have rhyming names.

Here Be Pirates

2009-01-22T10:40:00.000-08:00

Wow, things have been cranky 'round here lately. Let's lighten the mood with an old picture of Lola and I. Notice the lack of ringlet curls she now sports, the enormous chubby cheeks, the goldfish mush in her mouth. And me: crazy wild newly shorn (and definitely unbrushed) hair.

We are the two parts that make up the whole of Blackheart Lola. I've been meaning to explain the significance behind the name for awhile, and no better time than the present, correct?

Lola's first word wasn't the typical Mama or Dada. Instead, you could ask her, "Lola, what does a pirate say?" and she would enthusiastically reply"Arrrrrahhhh!" Does this even count as a first word? She's been my baby pirate for almost as long as she's been my baby and if she ever becomes a pirate to the tone of Cutthroat Island her name will have to be Blackheart Lola, the most despised piratess to sail the seas.

Yeah, I have big dreams for my daughter too!

Let's Compare, Shall We?

2009-01-19T08:05:00.000-08:00

Main Entry: nocturnal emission

Function: noun: an involuntary discharge of semen during sleep often accompanied by an erotic dream -- compare WET DREAM

Merriam-Webster defines a wet dream above. Now, I don't know about you but my erotic dreams are often quite pleasurable (and totally unrealistic!) When I wake up, I've got a smile on my face and I didn't have to do a damn thing.

I got to thinking about all the hard work making Lola was. The first three months of her existence were spent on the couch of a second story apartment without air, crying and barfing. I laid as still as I possibly could so as not to make myself warmer (spontaneous combustion was a very real possibility) and so I wouldn't invoke the ire of the fickle and pissed-off parasite in me. I imagined the tiny little alien-like grouping of cells like a mighty volcano god ruling my body. Smell the wrong smell, drink an ounce more than approved or think the wrong thought, the volcano god would know and send me sprinting for the bathroom, merrily retching as I go...

The next three months were physically better, plus it had positive things such as feeling Lo move, finding out her sex, hearing the heartbeat, the blessed, beloved heartbeat! But, as the universe balanced itself out, my psychological stability weakened even as my physical condition became bearable. I say bearable because pregnancy still sucked vs. non-pregnancy. The frequent urination, the enormous tits, the kicks while I was trying to sleep and Lola's constant hiccups were still taking their toll. My head was doing it's best to get used to the idea of motherhood and failing pretty miserably.

The last three months was more half/half horrible. I couldn't sleep, I half-expected Lola (in-utero kung fu master) to kick a wee foot right through my womb and cause internal damage. The growing Lo weight was putting pressure on my hips, my back and my poor pelvis was sore. I felt like I had just set a new world record for gangbanging and all I was doing was sitting in an office chair. I did finally get comfortable with being someone's mom, but the sheer physical discomfort really helped dispel the anxiety and make me look forward to her birth. A most selfish anticipation...

1. I barfed.
2. Busted blood vessels in my face, making me look like the walking dead.
3. Didn't sleep.
4. Went off the deep end, came back again.
5. Worried, worried, what if'd, what if'd, worried s'more
6. Pored over baby books, learned what a mucus plug is, examined underwear for bloody show, shopped, washed, cleaned, agonized...
7. Got beat the fuck up from the inside by the body-snatcher
8. My nipples were bitten
9. Labor pains!
10. My vagina stretched to a whopping 10 cm, requiring my first ever stitches.

The comparison of contributions to the making of babies: The above to what men can do involuntarily while dreaming a good dream. Hmmm, imagine me, weighing my Athena-like scales of fairness... I think Lola got the right last name.

PS. This post originated from Tee's tendency to say, "My penis made her." in a smug little voice when Lo's being particularly cute. I think he forgets the tiny little nine months of hell I contributed...

In Which Everybody Says "Stop Being a Pussy Etta!"

2009-01-15T07:42:00.000-08:00

When a person tells us about an unfortunate yet commonplace event, fender bender, break up, loss of job, failed class, you may catch yourself trying to console that person but feel unable because hey, that's life, it happens.

That's where I feel the romance between Tee and I belongs. We tried, we lived, we loved, we made one FANTASTIC human being but life happened. I'm still content to travel through life with him as my parental partner, I couldn't wish for a more loving father for Lo. (I could wish that Tee had an enormous trust fund, was a highly motivated professional or owned a horse ranch, but these things might be counter-productive to the good dad status he retains now, so we'll leave things the way they are.)

I'm ultimately content in having him be my friend, my Lola confidante and my former lover and while we've tried (many a time) to revert back to our former relationship, I've harbored this feeling that the time is past and we should move on to our next phase.

Now, hopefully this will be the last time I have this conversation with myself and when I have it with Tee, it'll be the last time I have the conversation with him. I'm aiming for ending this romantic relationship with the dignity and respect it deserves and guiding it into becoming the co-parenting companionship we are both going to need.

Ah, ew, sigh, fret. I hate hurting him, I hate hurting myself. I wish this could just be over.

The Schmooziest of Them All

2009-01-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

I get paid to schmooze sometimes, which is a-ok by me since I genuinely like most the people (men) I'm supposed to be schmooze. I suppose we can call them "schmoozees" as I can definitely be a "schmoozer."

An aside: Although I'm an office queen bee, I do get corralled into being a charming face (and let's face it, a pair of charming tits) during business lunches. It's nice on my end to meet the voices I hear so often and they can connect a face and tits to the voice that greets them when they are giving us business. Plus, I get free lunch so it becomes an all around win-win.

Again, luckily, I can find positive attributes about most the men I am forced into socializing with; some are big on family (I can relate), some like to drink wine during lunch (hooray!), some like dirty jokes or live music or cigars. Point being that I can usually find something, a common ground of some sort to deal with these strangers on.

You can see where this is going?

Alas, there are others which I cannot. One in particular gives us lots of work, lots of leeway while performing said work, is very talkative and loves to talk to me. But I can't take it anymore! He's so frickin' creepy and tells the most long-winded, sexist stories that I just want to scream.

He has a daughter a few years younger than I am so you would think he would think flirting with me is icky, but when he's with me, I feel like a bought and paid for object. Yuck, it's a bad feeling, let me provide you with an example.

His insurance office has adjusters spread throughout WI, but keep in mind that I've only personally met two of them. One day, I'm forced to meet this adjuster at a storage facility. Normally, I wouldn't have minded so much but I have Lo with me at work and I know this is going to screw up lunchtime and naptime. In Lola-world, these are two "times" of utmost importance, but I didn't really have much choice.

We drive to meet Adjuster and make our way through the maze of hallways to the storage unit. These hallways are really creepy because the lights are automatic, relying on motion sensors to turn on and once you are passed, they turn off. I fully expected zombies to start reanimating at any moment, Resident Evil style.

Fast forward thru all the dusting off and picture taking of contents and resume at the part where Adjuster begins taking pictures of me. HELLO? We are now an hour late for lunchtime and pushing into naptime as well, not exactly prime photo-op time dickweed! Eventually, we skedaddle, breathe a sigh of relief and let the exasperation fade.

Til a week later when Adjuster calls the office. No, he wasn't giving us work, apparently he just wanted to chat. He told me all about how he got his pictures developed and emailed them to all his little adjuster friends! "They are so jealous that I got to be alone in a storage shed with you."

Dude, eww. And we were not alone! We had a rambunctious, hungry, tired toddler there remember? Remember her getting cranky and ornery? Remember why? Because you took f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Because you were too busy taking pictures of me to send to your pervy middle-aged coworkers.

Ugh. Yuck. Ick. I hate being an unintentional object of lust. I wish I could shoot a lust-laser at the people I want to lust after me (Nesto, Scarlett Johannson) and everyone else could just leave me alone.

Cheeky Little Whippersnapper!

2009-01-12T08:13:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting in the hallway of the bowling alley where the reception is held, smoking a cigarette (!), nursing my gin and juice and people watching. The date of one of Mitch's friends comes and sits by me, we start chatting.

A group of guys get up and return to the dance floor, leaving one of their sly pals behind, a plant. He proceeds to strike up a conversation with the girl-date and I. With names exchanged and relationships to bride and groom clarified (none) he asks our ages.

GD, embarassed: I'm 18.
Slyguy to me: What about you?
Me: Hmmph, I think that's probably a rude question to ask.
GD: She's much older.
Slyguy to me, again. (Persistant little bastard.): It's not rude, c'mon tell us your age.
Me: I'm 24.
Slyguy: Whoa, I'm only 21. I guess I'm like a baby compared to you...
Me: narrowed eyes shooting a lazer death beam towards his baby face. ZAP! Kaboom! Brains on the back wall.

Ok, actually GD and I ignored him til he left, then laughed. But really, what's worse, telling people I'm 24 when my birthday is still a few months away (I always seem to jump the gun) or agreeing that yes, 21 is too young. I mean, I have Lo, do I really need a baby who is now able to booze it up?

Yikes. I'm definitely getting old.

My Favorite Mistake

2009-01-08T11:45:00.001-08:00

This morning, Lo was curled up in bed beside me and when I began to creep cautiously from the covers, she stirred and fixed her determined little eyes on me.

"Mama...my mama." Spoken barely above a sleepy whisper but with a note of steely resolve.

She rolled over, scooched her butt back, reached over her own wee body, grabbed my hand and put it on her belly. We ended up with my cheek resting on her forehead and my left arm encircling her little body. A warm tangle of MommyBaby in our lovenest.

Satisfied with the new arrangement, she conked out again, immediately snoring.

My heart melted into two meaty puddles in the soles of my feet. "Ok Lo, twist my arm," I thought. We were 15 minutes late for work today.

And I never wanted kids, HA.

Shuttering With Indecision

2009-01-06T07:49:00.000-08:00

Ho Ho (Lo's personal Santa Claus) was supposed to bring us a camera. Alas, Ho Ho was too indecisive on whether we needed another Canon (as we already have charger, batteries and case) or something a little more Mama-proof.

My first camera was "lost." And by lost I mean taken by someone, ass.

The second one, my beloved chocolate Powershot accompanied me and Nelly in a row boat, to capture the images of the awesome sea-beasts we were about to catch... Unfortunately, we caught ZERO sea-beasts and my poor little camera got a frickin' dribble of water on it and died.

This brings to me a story. Once upon a time, my friends and I created a group named the Waukesha Travel Whores because we are whores for weekend travelling (cheap, little time away from Lo or work) and it is comprised of friends who are good travelling companions (easy-going, has money for gas or willing to drive).

On this particular WTW trip, we went to St. Paul for Grand Old Day, which is similar to Summerfest in WI, only located within a block-sized area. There were blues bands, traditional Indian music, Irish ballads, rap, contests, beer, ethnic foods and lots & lots of drunk people. We enjoyed a few different shows and then it happened....

Max dropped his camera, whack, bounce and sllliiiiiiidddddeeee...into the storm drain. Well, my camera had recently succumbed to a minuet splash of water so I offered my condolences. But wait, Max had hope.

"It's waterproof up to blank many feet!" He tells me, "I'm gonna go get it."

He then proceeds to lift the storm drain grate and carefully lower himself down. After hearing many "ewwww"s, and "groosssss"-es, he found the camera and two of our friends helped him out.

The reactions of some of the Grand Old Dayers were pretty funny but looking at it from the perspective of someone just walking by, I guess seeing a guy getting pulled out of a drain doesn't happen too often. A cop came over to make sure Max was ok, and then made sure his camera was ok. Thing is, it was covered in goop and kind of smelled but it was fine!

So, I guess that leaves me with Ho Ho's dilemma once more. Waterproof or accessories?

Call Me Mama WorryWort

2009-01-05T13:19:00.001-08:00

So, John Travolta's son just died. CNN's IReport asked for personal stories and words of hope for the Travoltas and oh my lordy, can you say tears at work?!

Car accidents, drowning, suicide, murder; no matter the method, the pain was there.

Parenting is such a daunting task already in the fact that if you fuck up, you ruin a life. Gee, no pressure. Add into the mix that you're not just aiming to raise said child into adulthood, but guide them into becoming well-rounded, wonderful members of society. Add into that there are events over which you have NO control which will affect said child, possibly doing them harm and my little control freak brain nearly explodes...

This means I am currently worried about any or all of the following: Seizures, violent allergic reactions, car accidents, the pool gate left open, rabid beasts, zombies, nice old neighbors who turn out to be pedophiles, escalators, drive-by shootings, ax-wielding maniacs, heavy machinary, house fires, cancer, dehydration, rampaging tigers etc.

Jeez, no wonder I'm so tired by the end of the day.

That said, I don't let these worries paralyze me and I'm certainly not an overprotective mother (eating dirt won't hurt her, she'll find out soon enough it doesn't taste good...) but it's scary all the same. The feeling of helplessness in the face of so many things that could go wrong for a person I've been put on this earth to raise and protect, simply not fair.

And THEN I think about all the stupid shit I've done, like natural diasters such as tornadoes and zombies don't endanger us enough.

7 years ago... "Snorting pain killers while rolling isn't that bad, is it?" (For the record folks, bad idea.)

Take your pick of years ago... "Wellll, I don't have a condom, do you?"

5 years ago... "Let's eat these mushrooms, grab the Jack and go swimming!"

8 years ago..."We gonna play chicken, bitch."

I find it likely that at some point in Lo's life, there will be a moment in which her life hangs in the balance. I think all of us have been in a situation like this, the blessing is that we don't always know it.

EXAMPLE: A classmate was once involved in a really bad car accident. The car flipped, smashed into a tree, caught fire, the works. Everybody walked away relatively ok and when the fire dept. arrived, the classmate was told that if he hadn't have just filled up his gas tank, the car would've exploded rather than burned.

That small, everyday decision of filling up his tank may have saved his life.

As Lo gets older, I know I'll worry more and more. The curse of parenthood. My sympathies to the Travoltas.

Etta, The Cosmic Laughingstock

2009-01-05T08:12:00.000-08:00

I feel the need to deplore the timing of the universe. Quite simply put, it sucks.

My excerise-in-restraint-with-Nesto outing was cheerful and incredibly tempting and it made me proud that I do have a little something called self-control...

My let's-go-out-because-you're-getting-divorced meeting with my sexy adjuster went excellent also. There was food, drink, cigars and a backrub... (Waning self-control is still self-control folks.)

And of course the next day, Tee brings me a rose for no reason and professes his love...

Umm. What can I say about this?

Annoying!
Timing!

More to come.

It's Raining Men... DUCK, RUN FOR COVAAAA!

2008-12-30T13:44:00.000-08:00

I believe I've mentioned Ernesto and his extreme hotness. Well, let me just say that he is totally worthy of an entire post.

Have you seen Robin Hood, Men in Tights? If you haven't, you should. It's a stupid fucking movie in the absolute best ways. When I was wee, Little John and Will (Robin's sidekicks) were the objects of my adoration and they still evoke warmy fuzzies when I watch the movie. Little John is a huge man of little words while Will is sharp-witted, dark and has the prerequisite facial hair. Nesto is the perfect combination between these two, my ultimate crush.

Tall, a bigger (than my norm) man, with dark hair, eyes and sense of humor, and that saucy accent, oh the dirty things he makes me daydream...

We've worked together a little over a two years now and while there has been gentle flirting, it's not more serious than a workplace crush who, I suspect, knows of my infatuation.

He's had a hard life, being raised one of many children, first generation Americans on the nitty-gritty South Side of Milwaukee. He got into a spot of trouble when he was younger and is now focusing on flipping homes on his off-time and generally being a hermit. Literally, this guy qualifies for hermit-status, I've gotten him out with me once and I tend to be pretty persuasive when I have ulterior motives.

He's one of those people that can fix anything and proves himself invaluable to me by performing the routine maintenence on my car (while most women measure a month by menses, he has an inner 3-month calendar for oil changes and air filter checks) and also not so routine maintenence such as when my car window gets smashed in and he saves me 300.00+ dollars. And let's not forget helping me move, or setting up my bookcase (with books) or moving the enormous TV generously donated to me. And when I offer him some sort of culinary compensation (cherry pie, yo?), he graciously refuses with one of those killer smiles.

Other wonderful things about Nesto:
1. He likes me in pink - which I actually wear sometimes, although I hate it, for him. Gag.
2. He lies to me. "That split lip is barely noticeable..."
3. When he gets worked up about something, he speaks rapidly in Spanish while his voice gets louder and louder. It's really funny to hear, especially since I don't know what he's saying.
4. He's shy.
5. He's wonderful with Lola.
6. THE smile, yowza.

One HORRIBLE Thing about Nesto:
1. Longtime girlfriend, bum bum buuuuuummmmmm....

SO he finally made me an offer to go out tomorrow night for dinner and beers and I'm going to be on my best behavior. The mantra for the night will go something like "I will not put the moves on poor Nesto, I will put the moves on poor Nesto...."

But, dear audience... all I really want to do is put the moves on dear, sexy Ernesto.

PS. Another longtime crush of mine, a 30ish adjuster just let me in on the fact that him and his wife are splitting. To console him and take his mind off his grief, I'm taking him out on Friday night, ever-dependable Etta.

Christmas Break Updates

2008-12-30T08:23:00.000-08:00

Wow, glad that X-Mas bile is out of my system, I was starting to dislike myself...

Christmas was, of course, perfectly wonderful, making me feel like a foolish harpy. Lola got many, many toys, including a doll house that actually made her step back and say "WOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" She unwrapped a majority of her presents, my presents and Tee's presents, much improvement from last year when the paper itself held more wonder for her than the carefully chosen presents inside.

There was little to no whining, tamtrum-throwing or overtiredness (on her part or mine) and since I didn't have to attend more than two places this year (instead of 3+in previous years) it turned out to be the most relaxing Christmas on the books. Lo and Tee napped while I watched Willow, we ate leftover tostadas and then visited my aunt and uncle's home for enchiladas. I enjoy the Hispanic side of my family because they are accepting and loud and the kitchen's always hopping, and because they customized a whole role of enchiladas without meat especially for moi.

Next time you have 30-some crazy Mexican relatives over at your house and you are supervising/expertly filling/rolling tortillas in the enchilada chain gang, you tell me if you remember ONE/10,000 of your nieces doesn't eat meat. Love ya Uncle Dean.

Other things to note: Lola decided to eat crackers in bed one morning and I gave her my mostly unconsious go-ahead and fell back asleep. When I wake up, it was like a Ritz genocide in my bed. I had a whole role of buttery, delicious crackers sprinkled like crispy confetti, under my prostrate body, nestled between my tits, mooshed into my pillow, hiding in the crack between the bed and wall. Judging from how many there were in my bed, she probably ate about two and then realized how fun it was to shower Sleeping Butthead with them. I'm just glad she hasn't pulled one of those poop-smears, it could've been a lot worse.

On the Tee Front, we went to see The Spirit on Sunday and I believe that while absence makes the heart grow fonder, close proximity just makes us fucking annoyed with one another. If you have a cuddly, comfortable date-night in mind (as I did), keep dreaming. This was stiff and careful, almost formal without the pleasant nervousness of a date with someone you don't know that well. We were so anxious not to say the wrong thing, piss the other off, that we barely talked, smiled only a little, laughed not at all. This is stupid, why are we even trying?

I'll Wish You A Genuinely OK Christmas

2008-12-24T09:15:00.000-08:00

The fact that every Christmas wish is preceded by a cheery adjective (MERRY Christmas, HAPPY Holidays, Have a GREAT New Year) and is often directed at me from such insincere sources as telemarketers and Kohl's cashiers makes me decidedly UNfestive.

This year I've avoided the overload of Christmas carols (a sure way make me surly) as I no longer work in retail and I've invested in XM (now Sirius) radio and my new shiny, radioactive-banana-yellow Ipod but the whole I can't help but express my opinion that this holiday rings of falseness and stinks of consumerism. All the things I enjoy about Christmas (see list below) are in short-stock this year. I'm working overtime to pay bills and afford presents, robbing me of cookie/family time and as for the kisses, see enormous, untimely cold sore...
1. Family
2. Making cookies/mess in the kitchen
3. Shopping for people I love
4. Mistletoe kisses
5. Christmas smells (probably fits with #2)
6. Seeing Lo get all excited about her presents

I was involved in a car accident on the coldest day of the eon and my poor BFF is pretty down about the loss of her car. Basic rule of thumb in my life: when Megan is down, it affects my mood as well. Blah.

Also, I just found out a friend's dad died a few days ago, he couldn't have been more than 55. Although he has been in poorish health since I've known her and I found him to be wholly unlikable, I've been caught up in a gauntlet of morbid thoughts. Thoughts that cannot be shared because although I consider myself a somewhat-educated modern woman, I do have irrational superstitions about "saying" these macabre what-if's
aloud.

Can't we just go the more heartfelt and realistic route of wishing someone an OK Christmas? Why does it have to be so FANmuthafuckinTASTIC, because Hallmark says so? Bah Humbug.

Yikes, this post sure is whiny. Lo siento for bringing the holiday cheer down 20 notches, I'm sure life will be peachy once I go hang out with Lo!

Have a jolly, merry, fun, exciting, relaxing, edible, happy Christmas ya'll.

Put On A Happy Face

2008-12-23T14:19:00.000-08:00

Neil Gaiman is so sexy...

Guess who bought herself The Absolute Sandman Vol. I (for twenty bucks less than list price) after dreaming about it for two months??

Yup, good guess, I did.

Guess who's going to have a great Christmas despite family functions numbering in the zillions, a cold sore so big it's developing its own personality, potential Lola/holiday toy meltdowns and prolonged contact with Tee's mother?

That's right, me.

A good book can fix ANYTHING folks. And now I've just confirmed my nerdiness to the entire world, but la-de-da, I don't care because this comic book is "for intellectuals."

Uterus Out On Lunch, Be Back In 5 Years

2008-12-22T07:28:00.000-08:00

I wanted a son. I want a son. A little guy to love his Mama best and think his best sister is the coolest in the world. I remember the agony of waiting and anticipation of the bated-breathe genre to meet your child. I know the (possible) next time around, I won't be so fearful, I could enjoy the process more... The planning of the perfect nursery, washing baby clothes, holding and nursing your child for the first time.

UGH, fucking hormones.

Everybody said that once the first child is about two, that's when moms start wanting another. I HATE when everybody is right. Luckily, although heavily swayed by hormones and impulse (hence Lola) I am not entirely ruled by such hasty factors and I do have common sense.

Therefore, a list:

Excellent Reasons Why Having Another Child Is a Stupid Fucking Idea:
1. No house
2. No boyfriend
3. No money
4. 4+ years of school STILL
5. Loans, car payments
6. Love having my body to myself
7. Can't fit groceries and 2 car seats in my car
8. Only 23!
9. HATE pregnancy!!!!!!
10. Work full-time, school part-time

These crazy baby-thoughts don't appear out of thin air however, I've had help. Example A: Tee seems to be mentioning Lo's babyhood an awful lot lately, with a tone of wistfulness that I admit to feeling as well. Example B: He's been teasing me about admitting to wanting another child but when he mentions the future there is an "s" after kid, as is more than the one we have right now. Example C: After mentioning my boobs hurt (the only symptom of getting my period, hurray Mirena!) he said "maybe you're pregnant" in a jovial, ha-ha kind of way that contained more than a hint of hope.

AHHHHHH! Admittedly, we do work well as a parental team but that's a really bad reason to create another child if we're unsure of our long-term compatibility. Who created my loathesome enemy, the pituitary gland!?

For the sake of ourselves and especially Lo, I will be installing an electric fence around my vulva and one of those spiky anti-rape tampons where instead of mauling the intruding penis, it'll inconsolably wail with a newborns cry for 3 hours. Ha, self! Try and get horny now...

Oh yeah, and I'll leave my IUD in til it's time to get another installed...

Reflections on a Child Well-Cooked

2008-12-18T12:28:00.000-08:00

When I was cooking Lo, I was intensely curious to see what she would turn out like. When she was born, I was pretty disappointed because, well, she looked like zillion other babies have and will look: small, scrawny and squished. She's slowly becoming her own wonderful person and one month and eight days before she turns two, I'm going to record some of wonderful Lolaness I've experienced and predict what I think will happen next.
Lola has this little button nose. Her nostrils are perfectly round, the perfect size to stick baby peas or candy buttons into. Having done this myself as a child, I know it's a bad idea but it's still tempting because her nose seems made for foreign objects. Both Tee's and my nose are long and lean (probably the only part of me that can be described as such) and my nostrils tend more towards a keyhole shape, although I have resisted the urge to insert keys in them, I have learned some lessons in my 23 years...

Lola has beautiful lips. She has a sunshiney smile that lights up her whole face and invites the viewer of said smile to give one of their own. Right now, her face has the tendency to look very serious or somber if she's not smiling, a trait I must've passed on. I do hope she outgrows this as I have people who tell me I was forbidding and hard to approach if I was quiet and unsmiling when we met. Oftentimes this is because I'm either uncomfortable, shy or hungover, but I don't like coming off as unreceptable to new people simply because I'm not smiling.

This somber tendency does have the positive effect of contrast though, for when Lola does smile, it makes her face light up, her eyes crinkle, her dimples peep out and her tiny pearly whites flash. It should be described more as shiteatin' grin than a smile though, her jaws slightly opened, that naughty gleam in her eyes....

Someday, her face will elongate and her high cheekbones (just barely visible now) will emerge from her presently round, fat cheeks. Her tiny rosebud mouth will spread wider across her face and her lower lip will gain a sensual curve.

Those dark, dark eyes with those ridiculously long, black lashes will stay the same, just a bit smaller than most with a tendency to "squinch" up when she laughs. She'll use those unreadable eyes to hold someone's stare when they try to intimidate her, she'll likely need glasses to correct their inheirited awful vision and she'll poke them with the dreaded mascara wand poke known to women (and some men) 'round the world.

Her wispy baby hair with its ringlet curls will thicken...and thicken... and thicken til its a truly unruly mass. Her mama will NEVER make her cut or brush it if she doesn't want to, but dreads are a definite possibility if such is the case.

As for her personality, Lo prefers one on one attention with her fans. She enjoys singing, dancing (swing and slow) and reading books (YEA!). She has a strong streak of goofiness that when she's "caught" doing something weird, she'll give a little smile that conveys "yeah, even I know this weird, but hey, I'm Lola..." She's snuggly at times, often suprising me with requests of "up, UP" just to cup my face in her little hands, look at me, smile and give an eskimo kiss, so cute I could barf.

She's got quirks that stink of OCD like rigorously cleaning ANY lint or dirt from between her toes, thrusting her entire arm down my shirt to squeeze, place toys between and shout at my boobs and constantly rambling on about and demanding kisses on "owww-ies" until the damn things finally heal.

This might mean that I'm raising a bedreaded, bespectacled, smiley button-nosed,cleanfreak, hypochondriac lesbian but I choose to think it's probably just one well-cooked kid.

PS. More pictures of this wonderful kid of mine after X-Mas, we hear Santa might be getting us a camera...

Ketchup, Mustard, Onions, Lettuce, Tomato, Garlic Mayo and a Whole Wheat Bun

2008-12-16T12:54:00.000-08:00

Wow, long break.

Synopsis of busy time:

Went to Chicago, was sick, was COLD, was miserable...but I got a pretty cool purse that I'm not supposed to know about for X-Mas so it made it almost worth it. Missed Lola like a dull, constant toothache, glad to be home!

Shopped til I dropped, on several occasions for other people I love dearly.

Lola, Tee and I have been spending a lot of family time together, see shopping til we're dropping...

Lo now says "yeis" instead of "yeeeeaaaaahh" after my mom yelled at my brother for mumbling "yeah" all the time. It's so cute it crunches down on my tasty, crunchy exterior shell and melts my itty-bitty milk chocolate heart. Ok, I don't know why I referenced an M&M as my heart, it's been a weird day...

Went out drinking beer and Celtic Crossing with Meg and Roy one Wednesday night after school (on a truly empty stomach, STOOOPID) and barfed my fucking guts out. Did I mention this was a Wednesday night? And I had to wake up for work at 6am the next day? I will say that my new toilet bowl cleaner really gets the job done though, I'm sticking with this product.

School

Work

Lola

Tee asked me out on a date, I accepted (and was actually kinda giddy about it) but then we didn't have a sitter so Lo and I went to sleep at 9:30am and Tee went out with friends.

I guess that's all folks, all calm on the Midwest Front.

Material Expressions of My Holiday Spirit

2008-12-09T12:35:00.002-08:00

Done

Nelly - DVD player, Chappelle Show, earrings

Dad - Mudcrutch CD, The Watchmen graphic novel

Lola - Boots, BabyLegs, book

Gray - Book, Shrek DVD, Bandaids

Jessica - Bakewise, Cowgirl chapstick

Megan - Record wall sconces, Malt Shoppe CD

Roy - the cutest ashtray in all the world

Mari - Zappa print

Pete - REI giftcard, My Ishmael book

Corrina - Virgin Chapstick, Dreamy socks, necklace that will come AFTER X-mas

NOT DONE

Chad - 1/16th, chillum, burn some "smokin' music"

Tee - 8GB flash drive, skull wristwarmers, get socks

Edited as of 12-18-08

Tropical Pirates In a Frigid Port

2008-12-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

Holy backlog of silly, unpublished posts... Merry Early X-Mas present!

A WI List

* Pirates Don't Like Winter Because:

Waking up earlier to warm up the car
Falling on my ass due to hidden ice
The murky yellow color I turn that can only be achieved by 4.5 months of winter
Cold air makes my sensitive teeth twinge, ick
The slow decline into constant irritation due to lack of sunlight for days on end.
The glasses fog when entering a room
Neverending hum of space heaters
Packing a squirmy toddler in an enormous yellow poofy-coat into a carseat while snowflakes are attacking my exposed lower back.
Replacing the boots, mittens, hat, scarf and socks that Lola took off while in the car, every time we need to get out.
Car can't make it up the hill
The view outside the windows perfectly matches my boring white walls inside
Practical WI boots = ugly and cool ones = death
Fingers and toes go all purple and numb
We currently have 5" and showing no signs of stopping...make it stop, make it stop, make it STOP!

* Pro-pirate activities

Snow angels
Sledding and the Lola squeals it induces
Seeing Lo in a huge poofy yellow coat, snowpants, mittens and scarf, hat, he he, very Christmas Story-like
Easy to find animal tracks, feel like Strider from LOTR's
Smoke less
Can grow out leg hair
Vegetarian chili and root beer floats
Stay home (enforced by feet of snow) and watch movies
Snow days
Hot chocolate & Baileys
Hats

My Wonderful Kid

2008-12-02T10:59:00.001-08:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking about being a mom lately and (obviously) specifically being Lola's mom.

Before Lo was born, I was worried I wouldn't be comfortable with being called Mommy. (For the record, I'm still not "Mommy" but I am a bonafide "Mama.") I'm sure I'm not the first nor last first-timer to have qualms about entering the realm of title vs the more familiar name, I still think it was a valid worry because I'm not so quick to accept change.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment when Mama become comfortable but I can tell you that I took me a long while before I could refer to myself as Mama without an inner wince.

Last night I found myself at Panera, alone for once because Tee's mother had Lo. I listened to a little girl calling her "Moooooooooommmmmm" to see what kind of soda to fill their communal cup with. Now I'm not prone to fits or faints or seizures or visions, us sturdy Midwesterners are stoically ANTI that sort of nonsense but I had this weird, dizzy disorientation while watching this child.

"Is that what Lola sounds like when calling me?"

"Is that Lola in a few years?"

"How do I identify with that woman, a mother?"

"Will that be me in a few years?"

I saw myself stacked amongst the rest of the worlds' moms, like still frames in a projector reel.

This got me thinking of images of mothers everywhere, all the same, same name, same post-partum shape, same weary way of responding "what honey?" I actually had to shake my head to dispel this uncomfortable train of thought and allow my rational side to take over.

I don't have to identify with that woman just because we're both mothers. Lola and I are a mother-daughter dream team no matter the parallels we have with others. Despite the fact that I DO carry the same title as millions of other women. I DO have a saggy mom-body and I DO have the habit of absentmindedly answering Lola's many queries with "yes baby...?"

I think I was worried about a loss of self way back when Lo was in utero and I was busy terrifying myself with "what-if's". I saw the similarities of the many many Moms out there but there was one thing I didn't, nay, couldn't have known yet.

While I do share many characteristics with many others, there's one thing I don't share with them... Lola. And this is a major difference indeed. Because Lo is so original in and of herself, I can indulge in some typical mom behavior like forgetting to care about things the used to matter (shaving of legs, styling of hair, clean clothes), having a horribly messy car (mooshed crackers, spilled juice), and looking wildly around a store when I hear a child shouting "MAMA, MAMA!" even when my child is in the cart in front of me.

Lo counteracts this by singing about everyday objects like newts, Nanny-Baby Kitty, Mama, ice and the moon. By being so contemptuous of banana anything that the offending food item will get an icy stare, how dare it be banana flavored? By sleeping with her mouth open, unabashedly snoring. By being Lo.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes, a very small but key difference can save you from being just like everyone else. Mine is approximately 29 pounds and is the Lola half of the Lola and Mama dream team.

Borrowed "Humor"

2008-12-02T10:43:00.000-08:00

Thanks MB!

2008-12-01T12:51:00.000-08:00

Nothing too exciting to write so I decided to post a picture of me and my most favorite of redheads. This picture makes me smile. It also convinces me that I need to tone up my arms.

We Remember

2008-11-26T08:31:00.000-08:00

In my small elementary school, we always had some sort of Thanksgiving celebration. Instead of bagged lunches or Marriott Food Service mush, the school would put together a potluck lunch with turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, canned cranberry sauce. The festive decorations included turkeys shaped by little handprints and stuck to the gym walls with double sided tape, streamers, and little cartoon pilgrims and indians made of cardboard that you can probably order from a magazine sent specifically to teachers for specifically this purpose. We also got to wear either a handmade pilgrim's hat or a band of construction paper with feathers in the back to represent the members of the original feast, I was an Indian if you were wondering.

Now, I'm a picky eater and it was even worse as a child because I was trapped in my pickiness by lack of autonomy, which sucked. I didn't care for pressed turkey, salty gravy and watery-from-a-pouch mashed potatoes and maybe this disdain for our "feast" food made this cold pit form. It's the clearest damn memory but one particular year I just couldn't eat, I felt out of place and slightly queasy and uncomfortable with the whole celebration. I couldn't wait to escape the gym/cafeteria but I didn't have a real reason to leave if I was stopped by a lunch monitor so I stayed.

I remember talking about Girl Scouts and waving to Miss Krystoviac and realizing that other people were actually enjoying this celebration, with it's lax rules of changing tables (normally prohibited) and the presence of teachers normally teaching during this period who came to nip up some turkey and have a quick gossip.

This is the most uncomfortable moment I can ever remember having. I was an outsider during an event designed to mimic a feast of togetherness.

Now, after enduring a class which focused on the plight of the Native Americans after the relations turned sour with the Europeans, maybe I was right to be uncomfortable. I was 19 by the time I was educated on the atrocities committed against our land's native people. Call me naive, call me ignorant but I just didn't know.

I learned all about the systematic, purposeful slaughter of the Native Americans mostly through surviving first-hand letters and diaries of monks and these monks didn't pull any punches or leave out any details. It hurt to read this stuff, I felt betrayed by my lack of knowledge and the thing that horrified me the most was my age. How, after all the Thanksgiving celebrations I'd gone through, had nobody mentioned this. As a kid we were fed a story line that went something like this: The pilgrims and Indians sit down and have a nice feast, which is good, because otherwise those pilgrims would've starved. Trading with those nice Indians brought them knowledge of this New World, how to survive. Now we live here, the end.

So, starting this Thanksgiving, I'm going to start remembering and sharing more of the story. When we go around the table and tell what we are thankful for, I'm going to tell my family an anecdote about how blankets infected with smallpox were sent to Native Americans as a gift, and I'm thankful for knowing this happened so that I can remember it.

A simple remembrance in one person being passed on to seven more. An acknowledgment of the horrors our Natives endured and a thankfulness that they are still here today.

Salivating...

2008-11-24T13:06:00.000-08:00

1. Tonight I'm dining with a Lola fan, Beth. I'm going to give my Matogarzella foccacia one more tweaking tonight before unveiling it for a large crowd at Italian Night (#3). I'm going to pair my yeasty-wonder with stir-fry veggies and some tortelleni, not to impress my dinner date but because it sounds real good. Jeez, what a gracious hostess...

2. On Wednesday there is a Dylan tribute concert at Linnemanns in Riverwest. My famous second cousin and my father will be playing there, I'm skipping half my class and I'm going! I normally would count this as the most exciting thing to happen on my Wednesday: 20 bands! great cause! Bob Dylan songs! my family doin' some singing! BUT then I think about what awaits me after this concert... Upon returning home, I get to help my mama cook a Thanksgiving feast with lots of delicious meat-free recipes that I can't wait to try out: dilled green beans, cornbread, chard ravioli salad, golden-crusted brussel sprouts? I'm about to nut in my pants.

3. On Saturday, Meg and I are hosting Italian Night, in which she makes a few pans of meaty lasagna, and I make a pan of meatless lasagna with cottage AND ricotta cheese AND green pepper AND onion AND a few dollops of spinach. We'll whip up some salad a la Olive Garden, throw together an Oreo cheescake and round II of Matogarzella focaccia (hopefully prefected by then, crossing fingers!) and we'll have "food so good, it make you wanna slap yo mama!"

These three chow-days have got me so pumped! I can't wait to make a huge mess in the kitchen and hopefully have lots of glorious food emerge from the banging of pots, the "helping" of Lola and the swearing and laughter of yours truly. Tee hee, I sure love food.

Fastidious Lo

2008-11-21T08:37:00.000-08:00

Lola is very different from me. Yes, we both think other people getting injured (we're talking a sharp blow to the funny bone, we're not sadistic!) is extremely funny. We both like cartoons like the BackYardigans. We both smile at men, a lot. BUT, Lo has some very girl-girl qualities that I lack. It might be that I have plenty of masculine qualities (read: low voice, ironic sense of humor, no girly squealing, no-strings mentality) and she's the normal one, I've no idea.

Some of these traits are ok. She doesn't like wind blowing her hair around. I enjoy the windows down, even far into the winter (with the heat BLASTING) but it's no big thing, when Lo's in the car, windows up, air on. Mildly annoying, but do-able.

She loves gaudy shit in her hair. My mom tells me I was attracted to the full-out sequins EVERYTHING during my 80's childhood. Ok, maybe she'll grow out of it. When she comes home from Tee's parent's with four pounds of ribbon, clips and do-dads in her hair, I inwardly groan but no harm done.

She hates poop. We're still trying to work with this one. Not that I love it or anything but her reaction to poop can get messy...

She hates being dirty. This kid will start taking off her shirt after a minuscule splash of juice gets on it, outside, in November, in Wisconsin. See also: batshit crazy idea. This still isn't horrible, some people must be clean. I don't, but I get it.

The deal-breaker is with traditionally "icky" things. I like slimy things. Scratch that, I LOVE slimy things. Not slimy edible things like raw calamari, more like fish and worms. Catching frogs in the smelly shoreline muck, hurray! Things that slither, my favorite! I get a goofy-ass grin and tingles from things that crawl like crabs and inchworms and tarantulas. Things that not everyone likes. Guess who else doesn't like these things?

I'll embrace my daughter's uniqueness, I DON'T want a clone copy of myself! Shit, I even buy her babies and hair things sometimes because I know it makes her happy but I'm going to take her fishing and I'm going to get her a pair of thigh-high waders and we're doing to catch us some slimy animals. We're going to visit the reptile room regularly during her childhood and we're going to buy some reptile friends.

I won't have a daughter who screams at the sight of a spider if it kills me! This weekend, I'm going to take Lo and Tee to get some firebelly newts, my first step towards converting Lola to the slimy side.

Postscript: Not ALL creepy-crawlies give me the jollies... Keep your centipedes at home people, or I'll unleash my inner girly-girl and jump onto your back until you "killitkillitKILLIT!"

Oh, My Achin' Tear Ducts!

2008-11-21T07:32:00.000-08:00

I've been really weepy lately. Not in a droopy, moping weeping-willow sort of a way but more like a crazy pregnant hormone kind of way. Which thankfully isn't possible. Hurray for IUD's!

I attended my Literature about the Morality of War class on Wednesday and we had two speakers who came to tell us about their experiences in the Vietnam War. Ouch. For the record, I am against war. Easy to say right? I can also say that I'm still supporting our soldiers but also, it's easy to make a statement and a whole different thing to "live it" if you will. So now is when I make a confession: for all that I say I support the soldiers, I scoff at the magnetic "support the troops" bumper stickers. I inwardly sneer at recruitment officers. When I hear how someone enlisted because "it's their duty" I roll my frickin eyes.

Passive-aggressive bad attitude? Oh no doubt. But I was raised in a family that actually would've moved to Canada if any the children were drafted and any mention of joining the military was met with a vehement discouragement. So with that back story, I listened to these two men talk about their war experience:

One had a florid face and was loud and outspoken about his service. He was traumatized from the horrors witnessed and came back to a different America from the one he left. The lack of news halfway across the world kept him in the dark about the social revolution going on at home. He went from 70 degrees in Vietnam to 12 degrees in Chicago and got spat on leaving the train station. He couldn't understand the hatred people had for him, he was called a baby-killer, he couldn't get out of that uniform fast enough.

Now even me, with my inbred suspicion of all things military think that's overboard. Yeah, enlisting was dumb, volunteering for Vietnam while stationed in Germany originally was incredibly dumb but this is one of ours. Hate the war not the soldiers.

He also spoke of his family issues after returning home. He didn't talk about the war until 10 years ago. His guilt and and shame and disappointment and silence eventually turned him to booze, he admitted to our entire class that he became a mean drunk. His wife divorced him, he thought of suicide. The one thing that really stuck with me was that "this ordeal he went through was 30 years ago, why couldn't he just get over it?" and "how could he come out and talk about it now, 30 years later and blame his problems on it when it's been so long."

He created a war veteran's outreach program, kicked the alcoholism and now speaks and speaks eloquently about his experience. I bit my cheek three times in 30 minutes trying not to cry.

The other speaker was shy and nervous and had the nicest smile I've ever seen. If he were 30 years younger... Back on track, he was a chaplain for the Marines and spoke more on moral issues. He was enrolled in a Morality PhD program at a liberal school in Chicago when he decided to go to Vietnam. When asked his reasons by his incredulous colleagues, he said "I just want to help people." My kind of man.

He spoke about commanders having to make difficult decisions on whether to evacuate displaced villagers via helicopter or abandon them to certain slaughter. (He abandoned them as they might have had enemy placements in the group.) He spoke of a time when his father went to a six grade class with him and listened to him speak. When a child asked how his service affected the family back home, he redirected the question to his dad. His father mentioned a time when the family was watching the news and heard a chaplain in his battalion was killed but no name was mentioned. He discussed the uncertainty they lived in, the fear they had and the shameful hope that it wasn't their son, but someone else's. Shit, I was crying now.

Those two men really hit home that people are out there suffering from these experiences, that even if they come back whole and alive, they come back changed. I think that I've always been preoccupied by the returning-hero fairytale where men go off, do manly, war-like deeds and come home to their fresh-out-of-high school wives and make zillions of army brats. Cliche, cliche, cliche but I think that's the pit I've been falling into. One encounter with charismatic speakers won't undo a lifetime of anti-military conditioning but it can make me think things over...and cry.

Making the Switch

2008-11-18T07:00:00.000-08:00

It would be difficult being the mother of this child. Difficult choices. More on this later.

What's All the Eggcitement About? har har

2008-11-17T07:39:00.000-08:00

My St. Paul weekend was great. I ate overpriced cafe food, hit up a record/clothing/head shop and generally indulged my inner hedonist. There was plenty of outfit changing, hair cuts, whiskey, pipes, acorn squash (with brown sugar), sleeping and a complete lack of showers! A very fine weekend indeed.

To radically change directions, I've been contemplating becoming an egg donor. (Can you be an egg "donor" if you get paid? I guess I'm still donating said egg to another couple but if there's payment does it lose it's meaning? I guess the extraction is somewhat painful and the screening process is time-comsuming, is it a cop-out if I view the payment as "compensation?" Why do I feel guilty for even thinking about receiving money for this process, it is my egg after all and it's coming out of my body... Ahhh, calm down!)

Ever since I became of fan of Julie's blog and read her entire archived history and laughed and cried and sighed and sympathised and cheered with her about her fertility challenges, I've thought about the good I could do in this process. I could also get about 3 grand which could go into the house down-payment fund... Or it could get me through multiple semesters... Or it could hang out and wait til Lola or I decide to take up a hobby that deals with band saws, nail guns or blowtorches...

BUUUUUUTTTT... on the other hand, while I'm considering how wonderful it would be if my "donation" ended up completing a family and realizing somebody's dream of becoming a mother, my neurotic little mind starts ticking.

How could I not be curious as to what a person with half my genetic makeup is like. I would want to know if my genes dominated, is the child's hair curly? Does he or she have smallish almond eyes? What about those baby hairs that never grow right at the hairline? If it's a girl, does she have the same personality quirks as me and Lo? I feel like I should warn the prospective parents that in my family, we get real cranky, real fast if we're not fed on time, be aware. In short, I feel like I might get to emotionally attached to "my egg" and the genetics associated.

And then, when my mom sees the flyer I brought home from school, she says, "What if that child and Lola grow up someday and met and fall in love and never know they're related." Oh, thanks Mom, now I'm worrying about some crazy Lifetime Movie plot come to real life, my life, Lo's life...

But then I come full-circle and think about the good things I could do with that money, I could invest it for Lola's schooling. I could give my child a solid start while helping someone have one of their own. Plus, we Llanases are a healthy bunch, we make exceptionally cute children and it's really something I believe in.

Will I do it?

Christmas is Coming, the Goose is Getting Fat tra la la...

2008-11-13T09:59:00.001-08:00

Oh poor blog. With such a badass name, an unsuspecting reader might expect sharp wit and humor, analytical debates on politics and cutting edge technological reviews. Instead, they find a Christmas List:

Lola: baby legs, a painting (or a print to be more specific b/c her Mama's too poor to afford the original) that somehow contains the moon, another favorite topic of discussion these days.

Tee: Terry Brooks books, still waiting on a list.

Megan: record wall things, a 50's "malt shoppe" CD

Mari/Ashley: lip stuff, mirrors, maybe some buttons (ETSY stuff)

Mom: UNKNOWN! - possibly a mini-vacation with Dad, split costs with siblings

Dad: Mudcrutch CD

Corrina - bag or go in for a pair of shoes (red patent or snakeskin Dansko's)

Pete - something off his list

Jessica - Bakewise, something off her list

Nelly - new earring for newly pierced ear, see Pete.

Chad - my favorite present of all, the gift of music. Burn a bunch of CDs for him of all genres so he doesn't listen to talk radio constantly. Buy a little CD case and present present.

Myself - bright and shining banana yellow 16GB Ipod Nano, to buy purchased tomorrow. Jeez, I'm so spoiled.

Tee's parents - NOTHING, know why? Because I'm not the girlfriend! So the impossible job of shopping for people with no interests besides indulging every self-interest no longer falls on me. Tra fucking la la la. This X-Mas will be goooooood!

Royboy - Etsy butt-tray

Monkey - new fleece cat whip toy, a favorite since kittenhood.

That's all I've got for today. Lo is at work with me and she's currently on the floor looking at a book/toy called "Granny's Purse." She's picking out the pictures and naming our family members and nothing is more important right now than joining her on the rug to discuss whether that picture resembles Nanny's Baby Kitty or Satan Mac more.

Chiao, wish me luck in St. Paul this weekend!

Oh Beautous Wednesday

2008-11-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

First Connecticut Same-Sex Couple Marries
Judge Gives Final Ruling Allowing Gay Marriage

http://www.wfsb.com/news/17962737/detail.html

POSTED: 9:39 am EST November 12, 2008
UPDATED: 11:29 am EST November 12, 2008

HARTFORD, Conn. -- Less than two hours after a court ruling became official, Connecticut first same-sex wedding has taken place.

Peg Oliveira and Jennifer Vickery, of New Haven, got married Wednesday next to New Haven City Hall, near a farmer's market. The couple said their vows and exchanged rings in a brief ceremony led by Judge F. Herbert Gruendel.

State Rep. To Be Among First Gay Marriages

Wednesday morning Judge Jonathan Silbert entered the final judgment, allowing for same-sex couples to marry in Connecticut.

State Rep. Beth Bye and her partner Tracy Wilson told Eyewitness News Tuesday night that they were hoping to be the first to turn their civil union into a legal marriage.

Wilson, a high school teacher and town historian, said she and Bye have been together for more than six years.

"We are very happy to join the world of the married -- the word has meaning, and it has meaning to us," she said. "We feel so lucky to be in Connecticut right now."

Only Connecticut and Massachusetts have legalized gay marriage. The unions were legal in California until last week when voters passed an amendment banning same-sex marriage. A few other states in the country have followed suit. Connecticut voters rejected a ballot question last week proposing a constitutional convention to amend the state's constitution, dealing a major blow to opponents of same-sex marriage.

State Rep. and co-chairman of the Connecticut General Assembly's Judiciary Committee, Mike Lawlor, lectured at the University of New Haven Tuesday night on the subject. He said it's obvious when he speaks about the issue in front of a classroom that people's attitudes are changing.

"I think that speaks a lot about us as a state -- we are open-minded. We embrace and show happy couples should have advantages. Now gay people will share what straight people have enjoyed for many, many years," he said.

Many Connecticut couples planned to join Bye and Wilson in being among the first to take advantage of the new law Wednesday

Some Connecticut couples planned to celebrate by immediately marching to New Haven's City Hall to get marriage licenses. At least one ceremony was scheduled Wednesday morning on the New Haven green.

The health department had new marriage applications printed that reflect the change. Instead of putting one name under "bride" and the other under "groom," couples will see two boxes marked "bride/groom/spouse."

Joseph Camposeo, Manchester's town clerk and president of the Connecticut Town Clerks Association, said they were notified by e-mail shortly after 9:30 a.m. to start issuing the licenses.

"The feedback I'm getting from other clerks is that we're all at the ready, but no one really has a sense yet of what kind of volume we're going to get," he said.

Connecticut's Supreme Court ruled 4-3 in favor of allowing gay marriage in an Oct. 10 decision spurred by a lawsuite filed by eight couples challenged a state law prohibiting gay marriages. Several of the suit's plaintiffs wept openly as Silbert made his ruling Wednesday.

Today is historic legally and culturally and socially," said Attorney General Richard Blumenthal, who attended the hearing. "My office vigorously defended state law, including the civil unions statute, but we have to put aside our past positions and personal opinions to make sure the law is vigorously enforced and defended and the court's decision is implemented as smoothly as possible."

According to studies performed out of UCLA, there are more than 9,500 same-sex couples in Connecticut.

The study said that if Connecticut follows a similar pattern to Massachusetts, about 3,000 same-sex couples will marry in the next year and 4,700 will likely wed after three years.

Cheers Connecticut!

Once Upon a Time...

2008-11-11T08:43:00.000-08:00

I've been bummed out lately.

Life is going fine, Lo learned how to say "ho ho ho, merry christmas" yesterday, she's wearing her skull and crossbones (arghh) baby legs, sneaking into my bed to sleep, normal stuff.

Tee and I are getting along famously, I'm still resisting the relationship thing though. We got the infamous "So are you guys back together?" this weekend, followed by a long, painful, unsuccessful attempt to pretend like I didn't hear the question. Tee allowed me to answer, to which I gave a "no." But, he requested a X-mas list so he can't be too heartbroken.

Because the elections cleaned my clock, I'm going to tell a story instead of talking about the huge disappointment I feel about CALIFORNIA. Fuckers.

Once upon a time I had a baby named Lola. Because I was still a new mom and money was pretty tight, I decided to go back to work after two weeks of paid maternity leave instead of the four (1/2 unpaid) offered. Due to working for my brother-in-law, I had the perk of taking my baby with me. Initially I told my family co-workers that I would come in to help out for a few hours a day until I felt like I could handle full-force work and full-force momming.

Of course, in my chair and visible to all as the Office Queen Bee once again, the work piled up, people came by with questions they had to wait two freaking weeks (ex-que-say moi!) to ask me, and work came crashing down on my head.

This isn't to say Lola was neglected, no, she was situated on my chest, strapped to it by a length of stretchy orange material, either snoozing peacefully or drinking delicious mom-milk.

This went on for two weeks, still bleeding, not sleeping, crying because I couldn't fit into my favorite pants... One day, I'm meeting my parents, my siblings and my brother in law's family for a Mexican birthday dinner, running late, Lo is screaming her tiny fucking head off and I decide to be a good Samaritan.

Noticing the squad that always sits in the same parking lot, trying to catch people who disregard the change in speed from 45 to 30, I see a car coming the opposite way, and coming fast.

"Ho, ho," thought my sleep-deprived brain, "I'm going to save this poor sucka!" So I flashed my brights his way and felt pretty smug doing it. Mother Etta, saving the world's unwitting speeders from certain ticketage...

And immediately said "oh shit," once I realized the car behind the speeder was also a squad, who was currently whipping the wide, imperial nose of his Crown Vic in a quick U-turn. You know how cops follow you a bit? I think they're probably trained to do that specifically to make us sweat, let the asshole driver stew a little bit...

Sweating I was, along with sleep-deprived, late and stressed with sides of screaming child, hard-as-rock breastfeeding boobs, insufficient iron levels (always a bad idea for me) and I did it. I cried. I started before I even got pulled over, a few tears slipping out which I angerly rubbed away. No, I will NOT be that woman! I WILL NOT be the "crier."

By the time the officer got to my door, I was full-out sobbing, apologizing for sobbing, trying to explain that I was so tired and in the meantime Lo was still screaming. The officer said he understood, he just wanted to make sure everything was ok, was everything ok?

"Nooooo" sob sob sob, "I'm so fucking tired, this baby hates me, I hate my job and I want Mexican food"

He nodded a bit, asked me if I would be ok to drive home (yes) and practically fled. You know when cars stop for pedestrians in crosswalks, and the pedestrian "fake runs?" That was the cop, only instead of walking with the same speed but making it look like a run, he was running but trying to make it look like a walk.

Moral of the story: stay home and enjoy your baby as long as you possibly can, boredom is better than temporary insanity!

That Church Has Balls

2008-11-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

Holocaust survivors to Mormons: Stop baptisms of dead Jews
http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/11/11/baptizing.dead.jews.ap/index.html?iref=24hours

NEW YORK (AP) -- Holocaust survivors said Monday they are through trying to negotiate with the Mormon church over posthumous baptisms of Jews killed in Nazi concentration camps, saying the church has repeatedly violated a 13-year-old agreement barring the practice.

Ernest Michel, left, and Roman Kent look at a list of Holocaust victims who were posthumously baptized.

Leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints say they are making changes to their massive genealogical database that will make it more difficult for names of Holocaust victims to be entered for posthumous baptism by proxy, a rite that has been a common Mormon practice for more than a century.
But Ernest Michel, honorary chairman of the American Gathering of Holocaust Survivors, said that is not enough. At a news conference in New York City on Monday, he said the church also must "implement a mechanism to undo what you have done."
"Baptism of a Jewish Holocaust victim and then merely removing that name from the database is just not acceptable," said Michel, whose parents died at Auschwitz. He spoke on the 70th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the Nazi-incited riots against Jews.
"We ask you to respect us and our Judaism just as we respect your religion," Michel said in a statement released ahead of the news conference. "We ask you to leave our six million Jews, all victims of the Holocaust, alone, they suffered enough."
Michel said talks with Mormon leaders, held as recently as last week, have ended. He said his group will not sue, and that "the only thing left, therefore, is to turn to the court of public opinion."
In 1995, Mormons and Jews inked an agreement to limit the circumstances that allow for the proxy baptisms of Holocaust victims. Ending the practice outright was not part of the agreement and would essentially be asking Mormons to alter their beliefs, church Elder Lance B. Wickman said Monday in an interview with reporters in Salt Lake City.
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"We don't think any faith group has the right to ask another to change its doctrines," Wickman said. "If our work for the dead is properly understood ... it should not be a source of friction to anyone. It's merely a freewill offering."
Michel's decision to unilaterally end discussion of the issue through a news conference leaves the church uncertain about how to proceed, Wickman said.
Baptism by proxy allows faithful Mormons to have their ancestors baptized into the 178-year-old church, which they believe reunites families in the afterlife.
Using genealogy records, the church also baptizes people who have died from all over the world and from different religions. Mormons stand in as proxies for the person being baptized and immerse themselves in a baptismal pool.
Only the Jews have an agreement with the church limiting who can be baptized, though the agreement covers only Holocaust victims, not all Jewish people. Jews are particularly offended by baptisms of Holocaust victims because they were murdered specifically because of their religion.
Michel suggested that posthumous baptisms of Holocaust victims play into the hands of Holocaust deniers.
"They tell me, that my parents' Jewishness has not been altered but ... 100 years from now, how will they be able to guarantee that my mother and father of blessed memory who lived as Jews and were slaughtered by Hitler for no other reason than they were Jews, will someday not be identified as Mormon victims of the Holocaust?" Michel said Monday.
Wickman said the practice in no way impinges upon a person's "Jewishness, or their ethnicity, or their background."
Under the agreement with the Holocaust group, Mormons could enter the names of only those Holocaust victims to whom they were directly related. The church also agreed to remove the names of Holocaust victims already entered into its massive genealogical database.
Church spokesman Otterson said the church kept its part of the agreement by removing more than 260,000 names from the genealogical index.
But since 2005, ongoing monitoring of the database by an independent Salt Lake City-based researcher shows both resubmissions and new entries of names of Dutch, Greek, Polish and Italian Jews.
The researcher, Helen Radkey, who has done contract work for the Holocaust group, said her research suggests that lists of Holocaust victims obtained from camp and government records are being dumped into the database. She said she has seen and recorded a sampling of several thousand entries that indicate baptisms had been conducted for Holocaust victims as recently as July.
Wickman said lists of names have been entered into the database by a small number of well-meaning members who were acting "outside of policy." He said that church monitors have identified and removed 42,000 names from the database on their own, and that the church welcomes research from others.
Church officials say a new version of the database, called New Family Search, is being tested overseas and should reduce the problems. In the works for six years, the new database will discourage the submission of large lists of unrelated individuals. It will also separate names intended for temple rites from those submitted purely for genealogical purposes, the church states in a letter sent to Michel on Nov. 6.
"The names of any Holocaust victims we can identify in the database are to be flagged with a special designation -- not available for temple ordinances," the letter states.
The church also proposes jump-starting a monitoring committee formed in 2005 to review database entries. The committee has met just once since 2005.
In May, the Vatican ordered Catholic dioceses worldwide to withhold member registries from Mormons so that Catholics could not be baptized.

My laughter on a cloudy Tuesday morning.

I'd Rather Be Fishing...

2008-11-05T13:24:00.000-08:00

Why Arizona and Florida? Why are you so threatened by a couple much like yourselves 2, 7, 12 years ago, who just want a marriage certificate? You're denying people the thrill of walking down the aisle to join their beloved's side with a shiver of excitement that millions have the right to do already. You're denying countless mothers a chance to be the mother of the bride on her little girl's wedding day. There will never be a hunk of wedding cake in these folks' freezer, no bachelorette parties, no recognition that they've chosen to spend their lives with one person. Instead there's only the juvenile moniker: girlfriend or boyfriend. Who want's to refer to their 40 year old life partner as girlfriend? Why undo the progress that's been made? Why treat people like second-class citizens, do they not love as you do?

Of course I'm thrilled with the results of the election, I'm glad the insanity of the Bush administration is over but when I saw the statewide bans on gay marriage passed, my heart dropped. I haven't cried at work like this since I was in the early stages of labor. I'm heartbroken, it's just a fucking shame.

In other news, Obama won! Hurray!

And for future Etta: when they predict all the lines and hysteria and get to the polls NOW NOW NOW because it's gonna be SOOOOO busy... your past self voted in 5 minutes last election. Don't let them scare you girl.

I've been the soul of graciousness today, I even went so far as to buy the office Republicans a shortbread cookie at Panera today to show that all the shit I had to endure during the campaigns weren't taken to heart. The racist jokes were but their misplaced beliefs aren't. Shit, everyone has problems right?

My big problem right now is I can't get over the heartlessness of these bans and I have to type up my homework for class tonight. Shit.

The Man Who Birthed a Pumpkin

2008-10-31T13:59:00.000-07:00

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Lo and Etta here in our newly created selves: Pie Filling and Ed. Lola is the cutest little jack-o-lantern this side of the universe (save perhaps for Grey, who has the same costume) and I am a man.

I've been practicing my swagger, Lo is practicing her winning give-me-candy smirk. I'm trying to think of ideas for a substitute penis, Lo is taking a long nap and eating a large lunch in preparation for our big event. Ladies and gentlemen, we are ready.

Things to do this weekend:
trick or treat our butts off
pay my DirectLoan payment
zoo if it's nice out
NOT SMOKE
NOT spend money

Things I've already spent money on:
lunch
Megan's record wallhangers
Dad's Mudcrutch CD
Three pairs of new babylegs for Lo (because she's worth it)

\]pllpl;ppooollkolpu
'[okjkkudAnd now a word from our glorious namesake:
; m,m,nmjju

And a parting word from "the man." If I had a way to give everyone a Halloween treat, I would capture the giggle that Lola lets loose when I poke my finger into her armpit in a jar and give a grin to the world.
mm
l;guiooydfrrrrrrr

Hurray, Hurray for Halloween! (Almost)

2008-10-30T10:54:00.001-07:00

Nothing interesting to note except for the fact that I found three things I must have today:

A 16GB orange Ipod nano

A replacement camera

A pair of red patent leather kitten heel shoes, what a steal at $90.00 ($20.00 more than the same fucking shoes, last season!)

I added and calculated and wizzed and whirred and tried-to-figure-out-which-bill-I-could-push-off-paying-for-another-two-weeks and finally came to the conclusion that I can't afford any of them.

Sad day at Servpro.

On a lighter note, Lola and I are going trick-or-treating tomorrow and I can't wait! This is one of those things that I get all excited about and repeatedly tell her about before we do it, obviously have fun doing it, and then I jaw her ear off afterwards about how I can't wait to do it again next year.

I hope that she understands that my excitement isn't only T-or-T'ing again after such a long hiatus (why again is it improper to T-or-T once you reach adolescence? Surly teens need excitement and candy too, plus you get to meet your neighbors.), it's being able to share this with her.

I like introducing people to things: pomegrantes, Llanas tacos, anthropological tales, news articles etc. because maybe if they ever come across it again, they'll think back to my thrill at being the first to show them. And maybe I'll get someone to enjoy respective newthing with.

I guess this was a long-winded way of saying that I can't wait to show Lo how trick-or-treating should be. Warm Halloween costumes? (although today is 60 degrees, at the end of October, in WI? Crazy.) Check. Candy bag? Check. Safe neighborhood planned out? Check. Fellow T-or-Ter's? Check, check, check, check! A Mama to eat any candy that looks like a choking hazard? Count me checked. I think I can safely say that we can't wait!

My favorite holiday: here we come!

Dig Yourself Out of the Gutter

2008-10-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

My co-worker just sent me this email. The caption says the mom works at Home Depot and is selling a shovel. Jeez, where's your mind today?

Smokin'

2008-10-29T07:35:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream that Tee died while in Madison. His roomie called me telling me the horrible news and my first dream-thought was "shit, he didn't have any life insurance." How cold. How calculating. Is the economy scare that bad that even my subconsious is scheming for ways to protect myself and my child? That's a spooky thought, just in time for Halloween.

After waking up from this dream, in which Tee suffocated/drowned on his own phlegm (yuck), I sent him a text message saying: "I had a dream you died, we both need to stop smoking."

So, here's my Halloween resolution: dramatically cut back and then stop completely. I know my Halloween is going to be filled with a frightening array of booze so it's going to be a tough one as I seldom smoke a cigarette if I'm not drinking. A social smoker if you will. I'll let you know how it goes.

In other smoking news, I found a website that's pretty fucking cool. The pictures are neat, if sad. Is it wrong for me to say that even after viewing them, I still want my own opium den? The opium would be welcome but not required. Instead, I want a lush opium bed with oriental tapestries on the walls and silk bed curtains so I can read my "calligraphic scrolls bearing auspicious sayings" while pretending my bed is a fort. Maybe this stems from needing a place that's mine, all mine or maybe it's from a love of all things ritual? I have very little of either: even bathroom time is not mine, all mine and my daily ritual involved making a cuppa tea and both last about 5 minutes tops.

Anyone want to make me an opium den and buy Tee some life insurance?

Tell Me a Story

2008-10-28T11:32:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not here to digress on my lovefest with Tee. Rather, I will take a divergent path and speak oh-so-eloquently about my favorite kinds of stories: "How they met" stories.

I LOVE "HOW THEY MET" STORIES!

Even if it's something as my parents' simple "friends introduced us," I'll pry and poke and question until I get the smallest of details. Which friends? What kind of restuarant did Dad take you to? Did he pay? Did you think Mom's Catholic school-girlness was naughty? Was Dad's hair long then...how long...like to here? What can I say, I enjoy em.

I think one of the reasons I like these stories so much is because it brings a rush of excitement back to the person reliving it. Another reason is that this simple story can always open someone up to telling other stories somewhat related. My mom will then branch into my Dad's shithead friends (now mostly dead, yikes), the many times they broke up and how they each took a (different) date to the same place which resulted in jealously I can still hear tinging her voice to this day.

I like to imagine how the storyteller must've been like when the story was taking place. I like to place normal, ordinary details in there somewhere to make it more realistic. Did my mom go into the bathroom with her friend and compare notes about their dates? Maybe she had an achey back from PMS but my dad's presence was distracting enough that she forgot about it.

Another reason is that I don't really have a "how they met" story. Tee and I met in high school. We were part of different groups and somehow we met, exchanged numbers to hang out and he called me. I took him to Phil W's house and my guys were shocked that I brought this stranger into our midst*. The silence only lasted a eon but they warmed up pretty fast because even if Tee wasn't one of us, he was recognizable with his long hair and goofiness and soon was accepted as an honorary member of our clique. (*This was particulary unique because I seldom brought gals around and it was even rarer I brought a guy. When I needed attention from a guy, I left, got it, and came back to "my men." I was rabidly anti-boyfriend throughout most of high school.)

Tee and I grew apart after high school with me going to Whitewater and him going to drugs. I found and called the number on the back of his senior picture with the hope that he would design a tattoo for me (artistic and all) and we hung out on weekends in Rockasha. The first time we kissed, Tee was under the influence of some pretty heavy drugs and I broke it off halfway through because I didn't want our first kiss to be under those circumstances.

But since I can't deny the truth of it being the first, that's the one I remember anyhow.

Feel free to add any faux-realistic details in an effort to make this story and it's author more human and/or exciting. I'll see if I work on it too.

Oh yeah, and I've yet to get a tattoo designed for me.

Ketchup

2008-10-27T14:03:00.000-07:00

This weekend was emotionally and physically draining. It seems like I got next-to-nothing actually checked off the damn list but when I think back on all the stuff that happened, I realize most of the things that occurred aren't chores or physical things. AKA checkoffablethings.

A quick synopsis of my weekend: went home, drank tequila with my underage brother, smoked pot with my chummy-chummy ex, went to the bar to plot with Meg, felt sad when we missed Meg, went to the Ash and got trashed, met an extremely drunk girl named Wendy, had ex-sex. Finish Friday.

Saturday: wake up to Tee's mother and father in the living room with us while I am in my bra and underwear covered by a holey blanket ('shroom blanket, another story) unnncomfortable...... Took Lo and Tee out to eat, Lo and I took 3.5 hour nap together. Tee and I had more loving to dole out. Ditched Miseal and his soccer team. End of Saturday

Sunday: Tee sick! Lo and I went to the pet store to see animals, get fish. Aquarium area closed due to renovations, shit. Bought a moustache for my excellent Halloween costume.

Other things that happened that need more than a quick sysnopsis: Tee and I ended up in my car at 2am, listening to Wildflowers and professing our love for one another. Am I a sucker or what? I can't give this matter the attention it deserves as my Mom just called and told me diarrhea has it's vicious claws in my poor, poor baby so I'll be leaving but I will finish this post with the short list of things to come:
Fill in the details of this post
Tell the holey blanket mushroom story
Rhuminate about animals

In Which I List All Sorts of Positive Stuff.

2008-10-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

#16 - I LOVE Monkey

25 Things I like:

1. Getting A's

2. slicing soft fruits and veggies with plastic knives so the skin near the cut puckers and wrinkles

3. avocadoes, artichokes, hummus, pita bread - not necessarily together but not necessarily separate either

4. taking my dog to the dog park when it's empty

5. the satisfaction of pushing a stack of mail into the mailbox

6. reading, anywhere, anytime

7. throwing a fish back into the lake

8. newly-shaven legs

9. the service I get at The Chocolate Factory

10. music obviously created under the influence of drugs

11. telling Lola "we're making cookies/scones/foccacia, do you want to help me?" and seeing her head right towards the step stool before the words are out of my mouth

12. sleeping alone in my bed

13. my new green glasses

14. cacti

15. manual cars

16. Monkey

17. herbs and tomatos fresh from the garden, into the dish

18. having my own kitchen, exactly the way I want it (I don't currently have this but eventually I will again)

19. shoes that are new to me

20. Goodwill shopping while hungover

21. iced tea but only unsweetened

22. voting

23. taking my Grandma out, even when she's mean to me

24. buying things on Etsy

25. taking Lola out to do something I know she's going to love and telling her all about it beforehand and reminiscing afterwards

Happy Friday everyone!

I finished my take home exam this am, turned it in with 7 minutes left on the clock and I think I did a-ok. This accomplishment leaves me feeling free to have guilt-free fun this weekend, I've earned it.

Possible weekend excursions/plans:

Go to Club Rain with Misael and his soccer team

Make and package pumpkin seeds to give out to people I love

Go out for a beer with Nesto

Get a Halloween costume together

Hang out with Royboy, Meg and Megan

Take Lo to see animals

My Thursday Shitstorm

2008-10-23T08:03:00.000-07:00

Now I can be neurotic. Sure, I'll admit it. I was hoping that Lo would be spared the inheritance of this trait but I fear that it's not to be.

Example one: While at work, I systematically take the baby things off my desk (juice cup, baby, shoes, goldfish) and put them in the cubby above my drawers. Easy access, closer to Lola's height, out of my way. Win-win right? WRONG. For some reason Lo takes it as a personal insult that I don't want her juice cup in the vicinity of my keyboard, her shoes tucked into the (little) space between my butt and the chair and her goldfish artfully sprinkled across my desk, lap and floor. She's actually been playing across the office and I moved her stuff as stealthily as I could and she noticed, ran over (not exaggerating) and starting crying like her heart was broken by her evil, evil Mom while trying to replace her belongings on my desk. What's this about? Is this a "being like Mommy" distinction between desk and cubby? How does she grasp the concept that the cubby is second-class storage?

Example two: Poop. Lola freaks out about poop. I'll pause, let it sink in, reiterate: freaks. out. about. poop. When she sees it in the toilet, scrambles off with a little panicked scream. I try to distract her when it's in her diaper so she doesn't thrash. Why is my child afraid of her waste? Today we are at work together and she has been wearing her Dora pullups because they have Boots, Dora's best monkey friend on them. The problem with these diapers is that when poop is in there we have to pull them down to get them off. Bum Bum Bummmmmm.....

Today Lo got onto my lap and I asked her if she pooped. Immediately, a wary look crossed her face. "Gotcha!" thought I. I took her to the changer, took off her jeans and she starting throwing a fit until I took off her socks. Ok, no harm in that.

Next I had her put her hands on my shoulders and had her concentrate on the picture of the Mama and Baby on the wipes box, so she wouldn't see the poop. As soon as she felt me sliding her pullups down, the shitstorm began. Kicking, screaming, flailing of the arms, it was a doozey.

I calmed her down by holding and rocking her and telling her all about everyone else pooping, how poop isn't scary, I might've even tossed in a vocab word like "sphincter." Calmed, we tried again, she whimpered but kept watching her baby. Almmmooooost there, about to guide the first foot through the hole when she looked down. Shitstorm II, this time with real shit.

Needless to say, I'm doing laundry tonight.

Totally off-topic but check this out, if these parents get prosecuted, there's no justice in the world and I will go to Britain myself and bitch-slap the authorities. They lost their son to a freak accident, did their best to cope and help him adjust and grow in his current state, failed and then supported him in the most difficult decision any parent could stand by and watch their child make. How much more punishment can they possibly need?

Oh yeah, and guess who rocked out with her proverbial cock out last night. ME! I got a 20/20 on my last quiz, I met a few new people in my philosophy class and the exam left me giving my professors a look like, "whaaaat, thass all ya got?"' Hurray for me!

Crush, the only soda I'll drink

2008-10-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

No, that's not me. But today, it could be.

You know that song, I Kissed a Girl? Well, I went one further and I fell in love with one. She's eloquent and innocent and brave and strong and an editor (!) and I've only gotten through a year into her archives. Wow, Mama likes.

In other news, I have an exam tonight at six. For which I haven't studied and it is now 1pm! I just can't cure myself of procrasitnatorrea, do they have antibiotics for this?

It must be something in the water! I just told Nesto that he's really sexy when he gets all worked up about things. Given that he's Mexican (from Mexico people) and has a tendency to get passionate about things and talk very quickly (in Spanish) about these topics in a raised voice, I've constantly got a twinkle in my eye when he's around. I want him to talk dirty to me, ha.

Now that I've spoken about two people I have a semi-crush on, let's continue this trend and comment on DB.

DB is actually what I call DB, another co-worker. He's mid-forties, pretty darn fit, shortish which makes him even more sexy than if he was fit and tall, dark hair with that wonderful salt sprinkled in, well-spoken, enjoys roller coasters, eating ethnic foods/trying new restaurants, traveling, concerts and other mature, interesting hobbies. I can be having the worst day in the world and DB will come in and make me grin. And not only is DB cool in his own right, but he has two sons 16 & 18, who will hopefully grow into mini-DB's to the delight of women the world over. Men like that should always have sons to pass the sexiness on...

Before you start to think that I work with a bunch of Playgirl foldouts, I might add that for every wonderful man I work with, there's a few duds more. A gentlemen with 2-3 kids, an equal number of baby-mamas and twice as many girlfriends. A guy who should NEVER be allowed to talk to ANYONE as his personality is too abrasive and he prides himself on that, yuck. And I just found out that a seemingly nice man is cheating on his wife, a woman I admire greatly. BUMMER.

This post is going nowhere fast so I'll just end it now. Wish me luck on my exam, I'm off to (finally) study. And maybe fantasize about my co-workers a bit.

I dig reading the thoughts of vocally literate people. It makes my head horny.

2008-10-20T14:39:00.000-07:00

A 20 second foray into the Blogs of Note and look what I find: a whole blog about books! Well, the Literacy Gods were smiling on me today and you can betcha sweet bottom that I'll be lovin' on those archives!

Proof that Mondays don't always suck...until I go home to cram for my exam...with Jay. Yeah, Mondays don't always suck!

The MB Post

2008-10-20T08:04:00.000-07:00

I love Mary Beth. "Why?" you ask. Well, I guess I should give you list of the reasons:

1. She was the last person I talked to before going into labor. I felt like crying (and did) or offing myself. I was big and hugely pregnant, scared and tired and lonesome and MB was nearly there herself. Despite this, she offered me the sympathy only another pregnant woman could give along with her natural dose of realism. She was a seasoned mother of two cute-ass little kids, I believed in her optimism. I would've believed her if she said the moon really was made of cheese, but she was right, as usual.

2. MB is an internet guru. I met her via Babyfit and as all first time mothers, I had questions. Well, Mary Beth has answers people! Either from experience, her nimble-fingered internet searches or merely intuition, she knowsssss things man. When the old man on the moutaintop finally dies in my area, I'm going to try and replace him with MB.

3. I've always had an unrealistic view of motherhood. (This is a whole separate post, maybe today if I get motivated.) MB along with a few other moms really helped me to realise that there is no such thing as a supermom. You pick and choose your battles, do your best and love the shit out of your kids. She convinced me that belief in yourself as a parent doesn't always come with the birth, you just learn as you go. I'm in her debt for these lessons.

4. She sends me things like this:
The Why's of Men

1. WHY DO MEN BECOME SMARTER DURING SEX?
(because they are plugged into a genius)

2. WHY DON'T WOMEN BLINK DURING SEX?
(they don't have enough time)

3. WHY DOES IT TAKE 1 MILLION SPERM TO FERTILIZE ONE EGG?
(they don't stop to ask directions)

4. WHY DO MEN SNORE WHEN THEY LIE ON THEIR BACKS?
(because their balls fall over their butt-hole and they vapor lock)

(You're laughing, aren't you?!?!)
5. WHY WERE MEN GIVEN LARGER BRAINS THAN DOGS?
(so they won't hump women's legs at cocktails parties)

6. WHY DID GOD MAKE MEN BEFORE WOMEN ?
(you need a rough draft before you make a final copy)

7. HOW MANY MEN DOES IT TAKE TO PUT A TOILET SEAT DOWN?
(don't know.....it never happened)

(C'mon guys, we laugh at your blonde jokes!)
And the personal favorite:

8. WHY DID GOD PUT MEN ON EARTH?
(because a vibrator can't mow the lawn)

Remember, if you haven't got a smile on your face and laughter in your heart...Then you are just an old sour fart!
One for the ladies.......

One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his sweat-shirt. Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me, 'What setting do I use on the washing machine?'
'It depends,' I replied. 'What does it say on your shirt?'
He yelled back, ' University of Oklahoma .'

And they say blondes are dumb...
---------------------- -------------------------

A couple is lying in bed. The man says,
'I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world.'
The woman replies, 'I'll miss you...'

---------------------------------------------- -------------

'It's just too hot to wear clothes today,' Jack says as he stepped out of the shower, 'honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?'
'Probably that I married you for your money,' she replied.

-----------------------------------------------

Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man?
A: A rumor

------------------------------------------------ -----------
Dear Lord,
I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; Love to forgive him; And Patience for his moods. Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength, I'll beat him to death.
AMEN

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q: Why do little boys whine?
A: They are practicing to be men.
-----------------------------------------------
Q: What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name?
A: You did not hold the pillow down long enough.

------------------------ -----------------------------------
Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail?
A: Rename the mail folder 'Instruction Manual.'

when things aren't going so smooth.

5. And duh, she's lovable.

My Main Squeeze/My Main Problem

2008-10-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

I straight up flirted with Tee yesterday. Is that legal, is that allowed? God help me, that man is my weakness on this earth. Along with carbs and gin, eating candy in bed, biting my fingernails... well you get the point.

Here are the facts:
He's in Madison for another year still.
He's not really down with an open relationship.
I'm not into a weekends-only monogamous relationship.

Here's my worry:
He'll take our newly discovered lovin' as an automatic "we're together, everything is hunky-dory and back to the way it was before." Which I don't want to occur and cannot realistically happen. Things can't just be the same, we're different now, our situations are different and I'll resist that mentality with all my might. (I want this fucker to woo me again, damn it!)

My ideal plan (as well as my original one):
He does his own thing in Madtown, I do my own thing in Waukesha/Milwaukee. We DO NOT speak of anything naughty that happens while the other is away. A strict "don't ask, don't tell" policy on affairs of the heart. Keep all "others" casual and fun. On weekends, Tee and I are lovebirds. Once his year is up, we regroup and plan accordingly. I want to look at it like a vacation from being a full-time couple. I don't believe he sees it that way.

What's a goil to do:
I can keep putting off "the talk" and let the time breeze by. It has a habit of doing that and I'm sure Tee isn't clueless to my wandering nature, he might be operating on the same policy and I just don't know it...

OR

I can whip out "the talk" and deal with the consequences.

I'll let you guess which one I prefer.

My baby beats me

2008-10-14T13:59:00.000-07:00

Last night I was "wrasseling" with my girl. She gets rough. Fullout body slams, belly raspberries (showing my entire family my horribly stretch-marked, jiggly belly)and accidental size 6 shoes in the face and still expects me to give her wild-crazy leg pony rides! (Of course I oblige.)

I love to see her giggly and goofy with her widemouthed grin. I like to "get" her and chase her and eat her super-ticklish armpits. I was doing all these things and she was good n' riled when I went to kiss her head while she was in her Little Tikes car. Down came Mama's lips, up came Lola's face and WHAM, blood galore.

My tooth carved a large crater of flesh out of the inside of my top lip but it didn't sever it completely. So now I have a bloody, meaty chunk of lip-flap that decides to interfere in my daily conversations. A must-have for every vegetarian.

Despite this, it hasn't been a bad day?

Mama...Bayyybe...

2008-10-13T08:18:00.000-07:00

Lola is loving babies right now. Actually, she's frickin' obessesed. Everything is a Bayybe. Bayyybe ketchup bottle, bayyybe shoe, bayyybe plant etc. Sometimes she uses bayyybe as a synonym for "small" (a small plant), sometimes it's used as a way to express ownership (that shoe is the baby's shoe), and sometimes it's a title/noun (that's a genuine baby).

I can tell you that I sick and tired about hearing of babies but it's a subject that Lo holds dear and I'm trying to encourage her interests even if I don't agree. Shiiiit, I was doing my best to avoid bayybes for about 6 years through a combination of luck, everchanging contraceptives and lots and lots of prayers in my newfound religiousness when I thought there might be a bayyybe. Of course I reverted to my old ways as soon as I knew there wasn't, talk about not learning my lesson! This pattern and mindset sure makes it hard to get excited and comfortable with bayyybe talk every minute of every hour of every day, but I'm trying.

There is a point to this dear reader, which I will get to shortly. Yesterday Lola and I went to Cozy Nook Farm where we bought some pumpkins, sat on some vintage John Deere tractors, accepted candy from a stranger (jeez, am I slacking on my momness or what?) and pet some cows. First we got to pet the calf that was only a month old. It was housed in a nice little area all it's own with clean hay and a cool breeze. I was a little hesitant to let Lo pet it though because it had flies congregating on it's legs. When I shooed them away, I found healing raw patches and the poor baby had a pretty pitiful cough too. After hearing the creature wheeze, I decided it was time for Lo and I to go look for healthier animals to pet. We called a big cow over (named Cinnamon) or in Lola speak, Mama. A big cow, obviously the Mama.

Then my automatic cynicism receded a bit and I went into empathy mode. What if it is the Mama? How does she feel having her month-old, sick calf separated from her to draw pumpkin buyers to the farm? Does she even care, being a cow? I must admit, it didn't seem like she did, she was too busy sniffing/snotting on my baby's feet to look very interested in her own baby. But then again, it might not have even been her baby.

The point I'm trying to get it at is Lola is teaching me as much as I'm teaching her. Fuck off, I'm not spouting cliches for the hell of it, I'm trying to say that she leads me to think critically, open up my narrow perspective and maybe change my mind about a few things I've tradionally held one way or another. She makes me look at things with new eyes, I smile at things that I know she would like, I moo at cows when I'm all alone in my car. I skip on my way to night class and smile at people who give me disdainful looks.

I think I was well on my way to becoming a very serious, very self-absorbed person before Lola came along. I would never have skipped to class unless intoxicated. Maybe because I would've been embarrassed but most likely because it wouldn't have even occured to me. Lo has brought some serious fun into my life and rerouted my path to personhood all the better. I like being Lola's mom. I like myself more and I love her. Hear that Lo? I love you.

Do I love everything bayyybe? NO. But I love my bayyybe more than fumbling words can say.

It's not Thanksgiving but...

2008-10-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

And some days I think I have it bad. This is humbling, hopeful, heartbreaking and uplifting all at the same time. Not to mention really fucking scary. Flesh-eating bacteria in Boston?

Happy Friday everyone! Happy Friday to ME! Lo and I only have 1.5 hours left at work and then we are going to go see Daddy! I think we're both excited.
''":"'[p":{P;
[p''p \87
87/;' 7 ;7;6[6 ;[p;[gnb'\]'nh/nnnn
fg ttttttttttttttt Lola

That's Lola bianary for "Have a great weekend!"

#3 & #6 - Food and Belly Fat, I think they might go hand in hand?

2008-10-09T11:21:00.000-07:00

This is certainly NOT my sign. My sign would convey the unwelcomeness of meat and my extreme love of cheap, dry, red wine. Something like: Live animals and wine-soaked bacchanalia ahead, Ettas welcome.

I chose the most lightweight of list topics today, har har, that was a really bad pun.

It's particularly pun-ish(ing) because I'm not lightweight, I'm heavyweight and in serious need of exercise, toning and tightening. I would be having A LOT more sex if I felt more confident in my body and I want MORE SEX in my life. Do you hear me sex gods? More!

Soooo, I've decided to hike every weekend until a true WI winter sets in and then I'll treadmill it. I'm going to walk this ass, belly and lovehandles right off. I've pretty weak willpower but if I can keep in mind the ultimate goal here, need I remind you, then I think it'll spur me on enough to accomplish my sex. Oops, goals, I meant goals.

With that said, I'd like to transition to my favorite topic: food.

I love food. I love artistic, wholesome, stick to your sides food. Which is why I have lovehandles... I'm a vegetarian who gives in to carb cravings far too often. I eat pretty darn healthy though, lots of fruits, vegetables, whole grains but everything is made in the Midwest style. Tomato soup is made with heavy cream. My cracked wheat bread is slathered with mayo before being loaded with veggies.

BACKSTORY: "Ummm, I'm kinda picky." This is a phrase I utter often when first meeting people. It's my version of a personal just-met-you confession and warning, rolled into one. They usually laugh, offer up a personal anecdote in which they too seem picky and that's that. Until we get to eating. They soon realize between my "can you exchange the Gouda for dill Harvati" and the "minus the spinach but add extra tomatos and is there anyway to get some fresh garlic on the side?" that I'm pretty fucking serious. So much so that I feel bad eating with someone that embarrasses easily, I leave hefty tips though, anybody who deals with gracefully with me deserves one.

I'm the scourge of waitstaff everywhere. I don't eat fastfood, but if I did, I'd surely be kicked out of the drive thru for "teasing" the order taker. And I believe Wisconsin is openly antagonistic to vegetarians statewide. We are a meat-eating state. You know how we have lots of cows? The dairy and cheese state? Cheeseheads? Any of this ringing a bell? Well. When those cows get too old to be milked, we eat em. Along with ass-loads of pork and chicken. Our hispanic population (quite large by the way) eats goat. Our Greeks (much smaller) eat lamb. Our Hmongs (36,000 and GROWING) are rumored to eat dog, but I don't believe that one.

What I'm trying to get it, badly, is that we are a very carnivorous state! Hey, you cushy out of state vegs. come to WI, go to any random cafe. Order a cold sandwich and then say: "but without the turkey..." and just you wait for the incredulous and/or dirty looks you'll receive. 9 times out of 10 your server will say something like this (adopt shitty attitude, head cock and fake incredulity) "so you're telling me that you want the Cranberry Bog on foccacia with cranberry cream cheese, provolone, walnuts and red peppers... but no turkey? You know I still have to charge you full price right?"

Umm, yes Fucker, full price it is. Why do they automatically assume that I'm ordering no meat to bring the price down? Is it so inconceivable that I don't like meat that any other reason for my irrational request is automatically preferable? Arrgh, I am SO sick of being treated with like a lunatic for not eating meat. I would mostly rather eat at home where I can make everything perfectly my way than be faced with the ordering process sometimes. Especially if I know that particular restaurant is adverse to subsituting. My diet can be a real pain in the ass at times.

BACK TO POINT: I know that other veggies living in the Midwest have the same troubles as I. I know that they probably have stronger willpower. They probably don't add cheese to cheeseless sandwiches (what? I live in WI!?) I know that my jelly-roll is my own damn fault and not excercising is stupid, unhealthy and needs to be changed. I know that my genes have the capacity for great weight gain, especially after children come along, and I have the build (hipbones connected to the tit-rack) for heaviness so I'll have to be careful.

I'm not perfect, I've got a large ass, disturbing upper arm pudge and thunderthighs. But I feel as if I'm fighting the good fight with my diet and my impending exercise regimen and subsequent weight loss will only heighten my conviction. So there.

#8 - The Privacy and Subsequent Publication of BHL

2008-10-08T13:09:00.000-07:00

These are my henchmen, rolling out the red carpet for your arrival. It's meant to make you feel valued. The carpet, not the henchman.

Probably the least juicy or interesting topics on the List of Things I Will Bitch & Moan About but whatever, sucks to be you.

#8. Why I want to create an archive of posts before "going public" is simple. I first became familiar with this blogging format through Mary Beth's blog Shout out MB, you're the best! I loved going back in the archives and reading up on a person's life, how acceptably voyeuristic! So, I decided I would do the same. Then, I realized that it probably doesn't make make of a difference if I'm public or not, since there's about a zillion bloggers out there, all vying for readers.

So, I made Blackheart Lola public (the fanfare was amazing, huge red ribbon with over sized shears, ceremony and all) and if I pick up a reader here and there, welcome. Welcome to my blog, feel free to comment, I sure do enjoy a good camaraderie here and there. Maybe with time there will be more but it's ok either way, I'm doing this for myself.

Again, welcome to Blackheart Lola, pull up a chair and I will tell you a tale.

Family Matters

2008-10-08T12:13:00.000-07:00

My family is pretty cool. After the whole I-hate-life,-the-world,-and-especially-my-family teen years ended (blessed relief) I've realized they are pretty fucking great actually.

The more involved I get with other peoples' families reallllllllly makes me appreciate mine. Sure, my brother is a juvenile deliquent with a tendency to do some monumentally stupid shit. Yeah, my mom calls Johnny Depp Johnny Debb and buys way, way too many toys for my child. Ok, my dad speaks little and ignores a lot unless you're speaking Tonto-talk: wine, music, cooking etc. Lola can be a huge brat at times BUT they don't even compare when it comes to some families.

To prevent myself from being dooced - I will try to make the following anecdotes as generic as possible.

Some families I've met hate each other. They'll come right out and tell complete strangers that they are better-loved than their own blank. They scream at each other on the phone, they comment on how superior their children are vs a siblings'. They call each other worthless. All I can say is "ouch!"

I try to be considerate of my siblings' feelings. Even when Pete is a total space cadet and forgets a birthday or, oh, maybe schedules his vacation practically ON my child's due date, hey, is raising a stink really worth it? What if he died tomorrow? I sometimes snap at Ian (although I do my best not to) but then I feel bad, apologize and take him out for lunch. Oh yeah, and I don't punch Chad in the face for his politics, and that's saying something.

Some families have too much money. These family members grow up to love the hollar-hollar-dollar much more than each other. They marry spouses whom they don't love and have stuck up children together. The siblings don't get along but they don't fight often because they are too busy pursuing their own, costly, interests. Hunting takes precedence to romance. Downhill skiing and ATV's and super expensive remote control cars are more important than actually talking with the kids. Designer shoes, jewelry shows and the newest cleaning gadget are the first to be bragged about, but God forbid someone mention a (gasp) book!

Now don't get me wrong, our family is materialistic in the basest sense. You should see our fucking living room, it's a miniture version the the Happyland Palace or whatever M. Jackson calls his cameoflauged Venus childtrap. We love art shows and all the jewelry that comes with it. If we had a lot of money, who knows, maybe we would've turned out exactly the same. BUT, we don't AND we didn't.
I enjoy shopping with my mom and sister and grandma and our babies, Lola and Grey. It's trying at times, I get cranky (especially if I haven't eaten) my Grandma unintentionally cuts me down, I might possibly be hungover... But besides all those things, I don't really go to buy things, I seldom have money, I go to hang out and bask in the female family ambiance. I'm so glad that I have a daughter that I'll be able to pass this safe, loving tradition on with.
While trying on shoes, I fill my mother in on my love-life, school, my goals. It's at Target where I remember to tell my sister an anecdote about Lola's latest and greatest temper tamtrum. While eating at Sprizzo with Ian, we trade ideas on our first tattoos. Yes, we're spending money during these outings but sometimes it feels like they are more of an excuse to bond with family than replenish the toilet paper or find a new pair of jeans.

Now that I'm thinking about these families who-shall-not-be-named, I keep coming up with more examples of horrible family ties. The dads who left, the naggers, the selfish SOB's that.... wait a second, breathe.

This makes me want to go home and hug my not-perfect but closer-than-most family right now. I'm giving great thanks to that Savage Garden that placed me here that I'm a Llanas and that Lola is one too!

Bwett Erickson

2008-10-07T11:05:00.000-07:00

Brett Erickson is an alien. A one-of-a-kind, last-of-his-species alien. It might be a good thing. This is a picture of a guy that looks a lot like Bwett will in a few years. If you want to hear Bwett, listen to the Neil Young song that goes like "there was man, playing, in my head and I felt like getting high..." put that sound to a Counting Crows song and you've got Brett singing. I love Brett.

The Death Scene

2008-10-07T08:33:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if having a funeral is more for the mourners than for the dead as some people hold true. I understand that a chance to talk about the dead with others who loved that person can be healing, but a funeral can also be a disaster. I once went to the funeral of a guy I went to school with since kindergarten. I became fast friends with him and his twin sister in high school and Tom and I ended up doing drugs together. A LOT. I ended up having a few years of drug-romance but towards the end, my men and I were getting edgy and irritated with one another, probably (duh) from the drugs....

I cleaned up my act a bit and then cleaned up a lot more when I became pregnant. Tom didn't. He got shot during a drug deal gone bad, drove away but ended up crashing his car and dying.

During his funeral, a pastor told us alllll about Tom. His personable ways (true), his belief in the goodness of people (eh), and his love of god (ummm...)
By the time he was finished, I had a shitty look of open-mouthed disbelief on my face that probably looked incongrous at a funeral. Fuck it, I thought, this is bullshit. These people clearly didn't know Tom, the music sucked, we always talked about getting high at each others' funerals and everyone was mindblowingly sober. I do NOT intend for this to go down at my funeral, even if a funeral is more for the mourners. I only get one and I'm planning it now to make sure it goes my way.

MUSIC:

And When I Die - Watermelon Slim

This one I will have to update once I get my TP CD's back in order. I've been choosing songs for my death for years now.

DECORATIONS/GUEST CLOTHING:

Dark red anything. Black cloths over the mirrors (like Stella's funeral hey Tee?) Guest should wear casual clothes: jeans, t-shirts. A nice veil here and there wouldn't hurt because they are so romantic but not necessary. Please, do not pull the suit out on my account, complete overkill.

SPEAKERS:

NO religious men (or women) of any kind. NO talk about where I am now besides the huge ass diamond my ashes are going to make. Hey, NO talk about burning in hellfire either. NO Purgatory. NO religion! Disobey me on this one and I'm so haunting your ass.

Lo, singing the lemondrop/raindrop/ah ah song. That's probably the most cheerful, obxious song I can think of and coming out of Lola's mouth, it's so fucking sweet, some diabetics might just drop dead as well. This is a must.

Roy, Megan - they can say whatever the hell they want. They can stand at the podium and wail if that's what they'd like to say, I just want them to be there.

Anybody else that I liked during life (Tee, Roy and Megan please regulate on this one, I simply can't abide that someone I hated talk about me when I can't stop them.) can speak, don't get too mushy, DON'T get religious. Oh yeah, and don't say "she's in a better place now" that's so lame.

THINGS I'D LIKE REMEMBERED: love of grizzly bears, squid, Lola, Monkey, Tee, books. Fear & disgust of pregnancy yet managing to become an ok mom. Excitement at archaeological discoveries and new authors and movies. DORK. Jeep. Cooking. Partying. Zoo. Waukesha Travel Whores. Spreading the love.

FOOD & DRINK: Full bar, canapes. Taco dip. Megan should make the artichoke dip. Roasted red pepper hummus with pita chips. Bagels and cream cheese. Mom's spinach manicotti or lasagna. New Glarus Staghorn beer. Good gin & tonics for Mari. Plenty of limes to stab for Megan. Plates, napkins, tablecloths should be a dark red. Dark red is the theme color if I get coffin options.

DONATIONS: Send donations to either:
Lola's schooling
Purebred Cat Rescue
Set up a scholarship for single mom's at UW-Waukesha. Don't make the required GPA too high, single mom's have a lot on their plate!

Location: Either Natureland Park in Whitewater, Frame Park in Waukesha or Nice Ash. If money is problematic, my parents' house can work as well.

WILL:

Tee gets Monkey. You lucky, lucky dog. You also get all my books (excepting a few further down). You are making out like a bandit in my mind. You also need to posthumously promise me that you won't live at your mom's house with Lo, you know my concerns, please honor them after I'm dead. You and Lo get my life insurance money for school.

Megan: you get my couch. I know you love it. You also get my diary, if you can find it and my enormous green blanket that is the twin to your blue one. If I have any mugs that you like, I would prefer you take them to drink tea in. I love drinking tea with you after a long night of drinking booze. Any money I have in my Edward Jones investment portfolio I would like you have for school. All 400.00 of it...

Royboy: you get my pots and pans, cheese grater, colander, potato peeler etc. Throw out your crappy kitchen tools. You also get my Friends & Family address book because it's got the most beautiful picture of you on it. Any art on my walls that you like, please take it and decorate your house a little!

Meg: you get my applegreen KitchenAid and cheesecake pan. I pass the cheesecake torch to you woman!

Nelly: you get my TV and DVD collection. I feel that this is most appropriate because we have so many movie memories together. You also get my car. I know it's not as cool as the Caddys you were looking at but it's mine, so treat it well.

Lola: you get all my pictures, my camera memory card and my blessing to do with them as you please. You also get a majority of my jewelry, please take better care of it than I have. I will be writing you a letter later on that I'll give to you since I have too much to say to you in the Will portion.

Mom: you get my moonstone ring and my turquoise pendant with the swirls around the edges, those are my two favorite pieces of jewelry you bought me. I've always appreciated being showered by your well-chosen handmade jewlery!

Dad: You get my CD's, I'm sure you'll be able to pick out which ones were my favorite while listening to them.

Corrina: I'd like you to take over this blog should I die. Not much of a gift I know but I feel as if you need an outlet and this might be a better gift than it sounds. I also want you to have the fish eye necklace (tans and browns) made up of tiny beads that you wore constantly when you were younger. Lola and I take turns wearing it now, we've been keeping it safe for you. Also, please take my thin red watch. I know it won't work well in the vet office but it's so pretty and it never gets used.

Greyman: you get my complete collection of Edgar Allen Poe. It's a little scary now buddy but that's real genius wrapped up in book form. I'd also like you to have any Shakespeare plays I have, make sure you're Mama and Daddy read them to you.

Pete: Please take back the ring you made for Blake for me. I love that ring, it's so beautiful, feel free to melt it down and make something beautiful for someone else you love. But do it for free.

Jessica: I want you to have my purses, bags, backpacks etc. I know you're a purse lady and I'd prefer them to go to someone who appreciates beauty ha!

Chad: pleae take the money plant in the blue pot at Tee's house in return for the death of the collection cactus. That money plant is supposed to (duh) bring you money so make sure to keep it alive and happy at Servpro!

I guess I don't have a lot of material goods, no hefty investments to pass on. But I do have a lot of love for the people mentioned in my will and everything I've chosen to pass on has been carefully considered according to that persons' need and character. With that said, adieu.

Etta

The Men and my Beautiful Bartendress...

2008-09-29T12:35:00.000-07:00

When I decided what today's blog would be about, I smiled an inner, awkward smile. This will probably have to be one of those posts I edit a bit before allowing random Joes, Schmoes, and family read.

Without further ado, meet the actors in the play called my sex life:

Tee: father of my child, ex-boyfriend, current lover, a wonderful yet annoying wanker of a dude.

Jay: classmate, first rate weirdo, current (?) lover

Aech: friend of friends, one-time drunken fuck that evolved into someone that took me on a few dates and opened my car doors. Ha. Car door opener.

Michael: aquaintance of friend, pillow, trying to get me to go out with him, no nooky

Saturday night, I got drunk and drove Tee home and fucked the shit out of him. It was ex-sex with all the rage and pent-up frustration with a saccarine honey coating of I miss the shit out of you. It was raunchy and sad and sweet. I don't know how things will end up between the two of us since I'm not willing to go back in time and become the Tee's girlfriend version of Etta. I want to continue my lacivious ways, have fun, continue to explore my badass self instead of becoming a girlfriend caricature or half of a couple.

On a lighter note, I know Tee (that sneaky bastard) masterminded our lovin' He and Carlson went out together and Ashley and I went out. We met with the guys and Meg and Heather at the Ash and Carlson conveniently left without Tee, I was suddenly his ride. On the way home, I asked if he would be ok with coming home with me.

PEEL BACK MY SCALP, SKULL AND LAYERS OF BRAIN AND HERE'S WHAT'S GOING THRU MY THOUGHTS:
Etta and Tee primly getting tucked into different sleeping spaces (him on couch, me in bed) and then me saying: "oh this is silly, why don't you come lie down with me" Tee:"ok, I won't try anything, I just miss holding you"

BACK TO REALITY:
Tee: "Can we go to my house instead?"
Me: drunkenly considering, "ummm, ok, I guess it doesn't really matter, as long as I'm home early tomorrow for Lo."

We arrive at his house, and NOBODY is there. Many a car, not a soul. Hmmmm, goes my little brain, waitasecond...

And WHAM BAM THANKYOUMA'AM. Thank you Tee, that was great. Even if that was our last ever, it has been memorialized in Blackheart Lola and for future Ettas' benefit: it was good, it is something to smile back on.

JAY:
Ha, this is a weird one ladies and gentlemen... I met JaY last year probably almost exactly a year ago. I was pursuing a different classmate, very unsucessfully (fuck you James - name NOT changed!) and meeting a lot of new people in school by bringing them out to the bars with me after night class. Jay was quiet and I laughed up at him in the Hilltop when he asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him and hung out with him, James and Mitch for awhile but we eventually lost touch. Suddenly at Summerfest, the crowds part and Jay saunters back into my life. I drove him home the next morning, although we slept at different houses (me at Efrain's and him at Nicole's) and now we either text, talk or hang out everyday.

He's cool as shit BUT (and these are big "buts"...) he takes a loooong time before he's comfortable talking to people so taking him out to the bar with me and meeting my friends has pretty much been a disaster. Roy was insulted that he kept trying to make his acquaintance and Jay kept avoiding his conversation like Roy carried the plague. I don't think Jay likes children very much, highly believes in abortion and thinks more people should get them (yikes, we're all entitled to our beliefs but that's a hard one for me to accept) and is really weird about sex.

Which brings us to part III, the sex. WHich is interesting and funny but I'm at work and I'll need to continue this post later. Ohhh, stop whining imaginary readers, by the time you get to enjoy this, there'll be an archive. Jeez.

Semi-worthless updates

2008-09-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

I'm siiiiiiiiick. (Did you the reader imagine that sentence with enought Etta-whine in it? Maybe you should go back and try again, in the most pathetic whine you can muster...)

Who gave me this sickness? Unknown but when I find out, why I oughtta.... No, it doesn't matter who got me sick but who I got sick and I know that Jay's gonna be calling me in a few days, saying something about his sore, sore throat. Haha, warned ya fucker, but nooooo, you had to smoke pot with me, right then and there...

Point is, I'm sick and infectious and spreading my ever-lovin' germs so although there's a lot of fun shit going on this weekend (as always) I will be staying home, reading, catching up on couch-time.

Second matter of import: Lola is potty training! And I got to witness it last night. Cue sappy Lifetime music which screams: "mother and daughter bonding" and there we are, in the bathroom.

E: Ok Lo, undies down, you can do this
L: Taking her hand from her Mama's and de-clothing like a Llanas champ, takes a seat on her potty throne
E: (sitting down like a humble petitioner at the foot of the throne) Squeeze girl, squeeze!
L: urghhh, smile at her goofy behavior, tinkle, tinkle SMILE!
E: Hell yes, you are a potty GENIUS!! How did you get so smart? Mommy made you that way because of all the cheese fries she ate, you are the smartest little girl in the entire world, hurrah! (High-pitched mom-voice of course)
L: urghhhh, plop plop
E: POOP TOO? AMAZING, you are too cool for school little girl. Tinkle and poop! I'm flabbergasted!
L: when Lola hears the word "poop" FLIES off the toilet into my arms and creeps back to peer into the pot from a safe distance. "POOP?"
E: It's ok honey, pooping is fun.

Conclusion: if the John's Root Beer cheese fries I ate while pregnant made my child a genius (doubtful) then all the weird stomach issues I got from said cheese fries must've made my child afraid of pooping.

I'm so proud of you Lo!

The strength of my password memory sucks!

2008-09-24T12:39:00.000-07:00

I keep the same password for everything. There. Now if you want to break into my life, steal my highly coveted identity and take over my bills, find out my sneaky, sneaky password and go for it.

Unfortunately, Blogger determined my password sucked too much and I would have to change it. So I used an original password and forgot it pretty promptly. Thus the I'm-too-lazy-to-click-the-forgot-password-link-and-follow-the-directions lapse in blogs...

Apparently I'm more motivated than I thought today. Maybe it was Kathleen the flirtatious Panera woman telling me I was a sexy woman today. Yowza, thanks Kathleen, you made my day by liking my brand spanking new Etsy-gotten capelet!

I have a lot to post and not a whole lot of time to concentrate on things I want to say so today's blog is List Blog (to the rescue...)

In Which I List Things I'll Bitch and Moan About Later:
1. Matt/Vince's child problems
2. Parent blog, how I used to view parenthood to nowadays
3. Sub List, things I want to cook
4. Jay, that weirdo, Mem, Tee, any other men I get involved with before I begin the blog.
5. Lola's potty training
6. food, detox, weight loss
7. Car vandalism/bigotry
8. The reason I'm going to wait to publish this blog publicly until I have more entries.

Told ya I had a bit. I've been thinking about you, loyal non-existant BHL readers. The more and more I think about it though, once I have a stockpile of blogs, I think I might make this blog public. I'll add my reason for this as #8.
Cheers, Etta

The Demerits of Being Single, aka Life Without Tee

2008-08-20T12:46:00.001-07:00

But I also have some big hangups on being free. Most of these things I could probably find in another partner but some of them are specific to Tee and I could search for a thousand years and never find somebody who possessed them all.

Listing things about being single is easy, everyone likes space and time to themselves. But remembering things shared, personal "bliks" (shout out to Professor Dunn) that became inside jokes or couple habits, those will be listed in much more detail, it's the least I can do in tribute to a 3.5 year relationship.

When I go to Chocolate Factory and "forget" to order my sub without the jalapeno bacon (a ritual started specifically for Tee), I have nobody to give it to and end up throwing it away. Sidenote: The first time this happened, I was sans Lola and couldn't have given someone the bacon anyway but when I realized it was time to break this habit, I cried.

I don't have anyone to play with in the shower. Now reader, I know I have Lola and we do indeed play in the shower but that's not exactly what I mean. I used to have a partner who would slip into the bathroom as stealthily as possible (which never worked since you could always feel the breath of fresh air opening the door yielded) and undress, rip open the shower curtain and shake his wanker at me, hollering. Does this sound charming, I don't know know how it sounds to someone other than me, it was our blik. I would also routinely be spied upon, which can be embarassing or really sexy, depending.

I miss the hot lovin' you get when you first fall for someone. The desire to be with one another ALL the time, an experience I've only had once, with Tee and I wonder if it'll ever happen again. I hope most desparately it will. I would actually wake up early, drive to Tee's and spend an hour or two in bed with him before I had to be at work, I surely did love him.

I miss cracking his back after sex.

I miss being able to speak my nonsense way of talking (made-up words, trailing sentences, subject changes and all) and having someone not only understand me, but interpret for the rest of our friends. The only person that comes close is Megan.

I no longer have someone to send articles about things that are dear to me: giant squid, grizzly bears, mummies etc. I know Tee mostly didnt' care about such things but he pretended to for my sake and I occasionally got articles he thought I would like, a pleasant suprise.

Nobody dances with me in my parents' living room to no music anymore.

I don't get to hang out with Tee's Grandma, Teresa. A BIG bummer, she's as chill as her daughter is tense and anal!

Nobody to force-read authors to, then discuss books in length.

I never get touched anymore as someone's equal. It's either touching as Mommy, touching to get a co-worker's attention or not being touched at all. I'm feeling semi-ice queen.

The Merits of Being Single aka Life Without Tee

2008-08-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

First off, I would like to make clear that Pee is not my mother-in-law and even when Tee and I would speak of marriage, her looming busybody presence would pop into mind, making me recoil from the idea.

Pfhhh, who needs a piece of paper from the city that legally chains me to that woman? NOT ME! That's obviously the greatest thing about being broken up with Tee, being (somewhat) free of his mother.

But I have a lot of things that I really like about being single. Here's a list:

I can flirt with anyone and everyone, and do.

I am free to explore my crushes, which at this time include women, a first.

I can dispassionately examine my long-ass leg hair in the shower and dismiss the idea of shaving without ever really thinking about it.

I can listen to the blues, Bob Dylan, copious amounts of Tom Petty, or super-sappy hippy love music and Lola and I can warble as loud as we want without getting condescending looks from Tee or worse, having it turned off without permission, mid-warble.

I can rearrange my food while in a restaurant and not get made fun of for being discerning.

I can change my clothes four times a day if I wish.

I wear granny panties.

I sleep on my bed without sheets, just a mattress and blanket.

I don't have to fold Tee's laundry anymore

I don't have to listen to Tucker sing

No more smelling disgusting energy drinks, no more cleaning up debris (often energy drink cans) left in my car.

No more mood swings to deal with (his, not mine) except for Lola but since our mood swings often coincide, I'm OK with hers.

When I go to do laundry, there isn't a load of clothes hanging out in dirty, murky water because the cycle was stopped before spin, what is the point of doing a load then? I never got that.

No more video games!

Tucker is in school, enjoys it and by all accounts will be good at what he's studying.

I hang out with my friends, often overnight. We plan and follow thru with weekend get-aways, I have time to make new friends.

I can watch foreign films without getting scoffed at.

I get Monkey all to myself.

Most weekends are mine to do with as I please. Since Tee has Lola, I get to go shopping (without $ of course), sleep in, clean, watch movies, relax as needed. I can go out and do whatever I want with whoever I want, I answer to nobody on the weekends. That's really nice.

I get a huge bed to myself, until Monkey, Lola, Binky and Uma join me in it. Hmmm. Maybe this should be in the other category.

I can cut my hear-hair as short as I want, I grow my body-hair as long as I want.

The Unfairness of it ALL....

2008-08-19T09:24:00.000-07:00

I'm doing exactly as I feared and my first "real" post is going to be one not concerning Lola at all. Or maybe it does concern her, in a Kevin Bacon-six degrees of separation sort of a way: Veronica is getting fucked. Veronica is part of the Lola fan club, chapter Servpro. She is also, unfortunately, an illegal alien. She happens to be one of the funniest, most genuine females I've ever met, with memorable mannerisms, charming spanglish and two of the cutest little girls this side of a chimichanga. And she's getting fucked.

When I say fucked (just so we're clear) I'm not talking "sweaty, grin-with-disbelief-on-how-amazing-that-was" fucked, I'm talking "oh shit, what the hell is she going to do now, let's hope there's some way she can stay in the this country" fucked.

Here's the situation: Veronica and her hubby don't have a lot of money (hear hear!) and she is applying for BadgerCare for her two little girls. This is all good so far since she has an alias, (I know it but I'm not going to reveal it since it wouldn't be such a good alias then, would it?) and we wrote her a check to show she works here.

Background knowledge: Veronica's alias actually works through a temporary staffing firm, Veronica herself doesn't actually exist in the US.

Yesterday, I get a routine phone call from her social worker (I know, couldn't they call them something else, like "useless") who is trying to verify employment. The problem comes in where Veronica is not employed by Servpro, she's employed by a staffing agency and she is not employed by the staffing agency under Veronica.

Chad is tied with this one. He can fill out the employment verification form stating Veronica is our employee (which she's not) and risk an audit which shows we hired an illegal resident. Or... he can deny that she is our employee and ruin her chances for affordable health insurance.

I know how expensive insurance is... for one child. For two, even with two working parents, it's got to be astronomical.

I'm heartbroken to know that this wonderful woman is getting denied health insurance because of us, that she'll be scrimping by each time a little one has an ear infection or god forbid, breaks an appendage. I sympathize and ache for the state of things.

It's just not fucking fair. And if one of you hypothetical readers even so much as thinks her illegal status is cause for being stringent, I challenge you: look into her little girls' dark, wary eyes and tell them that their mother is a second rate human whose nonexistent citizenship is reason enough to deny them quality health care. You hardhearted fuck.

Testing, testing one two three

2008-08-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

Is blogging a self-absorbed fad? Am I a pretentious mother to include Lola's name as the title of this blog when I know I'm going to be focusing more on my perspective as a single-ish, semi-self-sufficient woman rather than a 1.5 year old minor demon? Am I going to whine this entire blog.

NO. End of the introspection, on with the self-absorbed (yet let's face it, oddly theraputic) fad.

Name: Etta

Age: 23

Position in life: mother, "administrative assistant" (what a crock of shit, I'm a secretary striving to be as good as Maggie Gyllenhaal, any woman who can function in an office with her hands tied behind her back, wow.), sister (shout out Nelly), daughter-still-living-at-home, and cunty ex-girlfriend.

At this point, I'm not sure if anybody will be reading this so I'm going to go all out, bare all and say "fuck it," I'm not going to spare feelings for once, I'm going to sling dirt and swears and I have a feeling it's going to feel good.

Be prepared.