You know that Prince song "Pussy Control"? Funny song. My husband hates it. Anyway, this is about Pee Control...issues.
This happens just about every morning: I'm in that early morning state of drifting in and out of a light sleep. But the light sleep is very soothing...very relaxing. I am very warm under the cozy covers. I know I have to get up when the alarm goes off, but that is a whole hour away.
Then it happens. The demon pee demands to be let out. Most people would just get up and pee, right? Not me. Lemme tell you, I fight that pee all the way to the toilet.
When I first feel the urge, I totally ignore it, as if ignoring it will somehow make it evaporate right through my bladder and skin and out of my body. But the pee is a persistent little bitch. It starts to become downright painful. And I'm like FUCK I am NOT getting up yet. I'm NOT! F U Pee. F U!!! The problem is that once I'm physically up that late in the morning, there is no going back to sleep.
I'm pissed off (heh) that the pee is controlling me. IT is making me get up when I don't want to. I want to control it and I want to pee on MY terms. If that isn't having issues, I don't know what is.
Sad to say...the pee always wins. 100% of the time. Pee has a 1000-0 record. It gets to the point where I'm about to wet the bed, and then I pretty much have to get up. It is quite a relief by that point to let it out, heh.
I'm like that at work, too. I don't wait nearly as long, but if I'm in the middle of a project at work, I feel resentful that I have to get up and pee. Such an interruption. What a "waste of time", ha ha.
This is the definition of being anal, or anal retentive. You are such a control freak and so obsessive compulsive about everything, that you will not poo when you are supposed to. Instead, you hold it in and wait until a time that is perfect for you; you retain it in the anus (should be the name of a song). I do that, too (poo almost always wins that battle, too, although its record is not quite as clean as pee's. However, the revenge it later takes is quite painful, and not worth the fight). I am certain that I would be classified as being "anal", as well, in my general personality. But not about all things.
Well, gotta go pee now. I've been fighting it through this entire post.
;-)
(or is it Pussy Patrol, not Control? Hell, I can't remember, and Google won't let me Google the word "pussy". Why not? :) )
Showing posts with label anecdotes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anecdotes. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Rhetorical Questions, Holiday Cheer, and Bah! Humbug - Being Cross
It infuriates me when people flick their cigarettes out of their car when I'm driving behind them, and the burning cig comes back and hits my car. It happens all the freaking time.
It happened today. And it really pissed me off. I flicked my brights at the wench, and as they say constantly on Thomas the Tank Engine, I felt very "cross".
The anger was building, and I was cussing to myself. The more I thought of the burning cig hitting my car, the madder I got at the helplessness of the situation (what can I do about it now? She got her way with her cig and my car).
As I was feeling angry, Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" played on the radio. I had just watched "A Christmas Carol" last night and read the story last week. I realized I was fuming mad at someone I didn't know for no real good reason, right in the middle of a holiday season when I should be feeling joy towards Humankind.
Do cigarettes that hit my car really hurt me or my car? I honestly don't know, but I doubt it. I know I don't like the *idea* of a burning flying object hitting my car. Could it blow up my car somehow, lol? I know that's a silly girl thing to say, but what if a drop of gas got on my car after I filled up? What then? Could the heat of the cig hurt my paint job? Back when I had a sun roof and if I had it open, I worried about the cig flying into my car. But typically, it just hits the front of my car, but it does hit my car. I'm sure what makes me mad is that I feel like I'm being trampled on by my neighbor. The haughty taughty smoker thinks that she's so above me that she can fling her cig at my car. It's humiliating on some level. (not to mention the anonymous people who flick their cigs in our driveway. Why do people think they can throw their trash out like that? That's what it is. Trash.)
So my first question is: What is a normal response to a burning cigarette being thrown at one's car? Clearly, I was way too angry about it. In the spirit of A Christmas Carol, am I just supposed to smile and feel cheery and love my fellow driver, burning cig projectile and all? I'm not being smart ass...I really want to know! Is a normal response a feeling of mild irritation, internally, without blinking the brights, and then move on and be happy and love my fellow driver again? In other words, is the proper response just to lay low and take it?
My second question is: Why *am* I so angry these days? Before the cig incident this morning, I was mad at another driver. I was behind her waiting to turn left out of our neighborhood. There was lots of traffic b/c we live right by a high school where classes were about to start, but still, at some point, you just have to go already. This woman waited, and waited, and waited, and waited...I mean I swear she was waiting until she could see no cars anywhere.
I was getting really frustrated (cross again)...you know, have to get to daycare, have to get to work, etc. And I started cussing. What the fuck is she waiting for? And JC! (sorry JC). All of this while baby was in the car....bad. (he doesn't really notice now, but he will, and you know, he probably notices more than I realize).
She finally went, and I was right behind her. We came up to a red light. When it turned green, she just sat there. She rolled backwards a little. Ah...now I see the problem. Engine problems. Her car kept dying. Not totally her fault. And so then I felt all forgiving, right? Wrong. I said "what the fuck is she doing now?" and went around her. The truck behind me was right behind me.
So...why am I so angry? Am I just a bad person, like Scrooge? Is it the environment I was raised in? Is it the sometimes over the top angry person I live with? Am I generally unhappy with my life? Do I hate my fellow man that much? Are there little stresses just nagging at me which surface when I drive? Is it just "that time of year"?
I'd really like to know, b/c I am trying to be a better person. For my baby, for myself, for the good of all. I want to be kind, forgiving, understanding, gentle. I don't know if I'll ever get to all of that, but I cannot over-react every time little things happen. Plus, I really do wonder where all this anger is coming from. I think I have ideas, but I don't like that answer. Although it's fixable, with a little work.
I think writing it out like this is a good first step in Anger Management. I want to fix it. I want to stop my auto-response or at least have more control over it. I don't want to end up with 3 spirits visiting me, although, if that's what it takes, bring 'em on.
P.S. This is not a slam against my smoking friends. Most people I actually know who smoke are quite courteous. It's those smoking strangers who seem to be the foolios. :)
It happened today. And it really pissed me off. I flicked my brights at the wench, and as they say constantly on Thomas the Tank Engine, I felt very "cross".
The anger was building, and I was cussing to myself. The more I thought of the burning cig hitting my car, the madder I got at the helplessness of the situation (what can I do about it now? She got her way with her cig and my car).
As I was feeling angry, Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" played on the radio. I had just watched "A Christmas Carol" last night and read the story last week. I realized I was fuming mad at someone I didn't know for no real good reason, right in the middle of a holiday season when I should be feeling joy towards Humankind.
Do cigarettes that hit my car really hurt me or my car? I honestly don't know, but I doubt it. I know I don't like the *idea* of a burning flying object hitting my car. Could it blow up my car somehow, lol? I know that's a silly girl thing to say, but what if a drop of gas got on my car after I filled up? What then? Could the heat of the cig hurt my paint job? Back when I had a sun roof and if I had it open, I worried about the cig flying into my car. But typically, it just hits the front of my car, but it does hit my car. I'm sure what makes me mad is that I feel like I'm being trampled on by my neighbor. The haughty taughty smoker thinks that she's so above me that she can fling her cig at my car. It's humiliating on some level. (not to mention the anonymous people who flick their cigs in our driveway. Why do people think they can throw their trash out like that? That's what it is. Trash.)
So my first question is: What is a normal response to a burning cigarette being thrown at one's car? Clearly, I was way too angry about it. In the spirit of A Christmas Carol, am I just supposed to smile and feel cheery and love my fellow driver, burning cig projectile and all? I'm not being smart ass...I really want to know! Is a normal response a feeling of mild irritation, internally, without blinking the brights, and then move on and be happy and love my fellow driver again? In other words, is the proper response just to lay low and take it?
My second question is: Why *am* I so angry these days? Before the cig incident this morning, I was mad at another driver. I was behind her waiting to turn left out of our neighborhood. There was lots of traffic b/c we live right by a high school where classes were about to start, but still, at some point, you just have to go already. This woman waited, and waited, and waited, and waited...I mean I swear she was waiting until she could see no cars anywhere.
I was getting really frustrated (cross again)...you know, have to get to daycare, have to get to work, etc. And I started cussing. What the fuck is she waiting for? And JC! (sorry JC). All of this while baby was in the car....bad. (he doesn't really notice now, but he will, and you know, he probably notices more than I realize).
She finally went, and I was right behind her. We came up to a red light. When it turned green, she just sat there. She rolled backwards a little. Ah...now I see the problem. Engine problems. Her car kept dying. Not totally her fault. And so then I felt all forgiving, right? Wrong. I said "what the fuck is she doing now?" and went around her. The truck behind me was right behind me.
So...why am I so angry? Am I just a bad person, like Scrooge? Is it the environment I was raised in? Is it the sometimes over the top angry person I live with? Am I generally unhappy with my life? Do I hate my fellow man that much? Are there little stresses just nagging at me which surface when I drive? Is it just "that time of year"?
I'd really like to know, b/c I am trying to be a better person. For my baby, for myself, for the good of all. I want to be kind, forgiving, understanding, gentle. I don't know if I'll ever get to all of that, but I cannot over-react every time little things happen. Plus, I really do wonder where all this anger is coming from. I think I have ideas, but I don't like that answer. Although it's fixable, with a little work.
I think writing it out like this is a good first step in Anger Management. I want to fix it. I want to stop my auto-response or at least have more control over it. I don't want to end up with 3 spirits visiting me, although, if that's what it takes, bring 'em on.
P.S. This is not a slam against my smoking friends. Most people I actually know who smoke are quite courteous. It's those smoking strangers who seem to be the foolios. :)
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Please Wait To Be Seated
My husband and I went out to eat last weekend. Another fun restaurant experience.
We got there early. We were seated in a row of 2-seater booths, fairly close to the hostess area. As the evening progressed, more people filled the waiting area, until it was pretty full with people waiting for a table. This was a little Italian place, on the informal side. Nothing super fancy.
One woman in waiting decides that she is not going to wait in the designated waiting area. Oh no. Instead, she goes not just past the "wait to be seated" sign, not just into the restaurant proper, but directly beside our booth. There was a wall across from our table, across the very narrow aisle, that she was leaning on, arms folded, and she was no more than 2 feet away from us, just lurching over us like a vulture.
I mean, she could hear every word of our conversation. I'm telling you, she was RIGHT THERE. Not that our conversation was all that intriguing or anything, so I decided to make it so:
Me: "So, have you gotten laid lately?"
Hubby (who quickly follows suit): "Um, no, I haven't. Damn wife is frigid. Good thing I have you."
"Yeah, but I'm so sore all the time"
"I know. I've been told I'm too big before"
"Too big? Now that's an understatement".
"Are you complaining?"
"Oh no! I love them big, fat and juicy. The bigger the better. We just have to practice more"
etc., etc.
She just stood there. Continued to stand. And when we said the raunchiest stuff, she would look directly at us, like at our faces. As if we were in *her* space.
I even went so far as to say, "Gee...it's so nice to be able to get out for once and have adult conversation, one on one, in private, where no one can hear us". She still didn't leave until she got a table.
We said later that we should have just sarcastically asked her if she'd like to join us.
I know I'm a bit uptight with my personal space, but geez. If our table had bordered the waiting area, it would not have been her fault. But she was clearly out of bounds.
I always wonder what is running through people's minds when they act like idiots, and I wonder why they are not more like me (perfect - heh). I would feel very self-conscious hovering over someone's table like that. Why didn't she? Heck, maybe our fake conversation made it irresistible for her to leave.
At least hubby and I had a good test of our improvisational skills.
Edit: I just realized that my last post and this post are complaints about how people annoy me, ha ha. I see a theme here. My next post should be something more cheerful and positive. I'll work on it. I think I do have some upbeat things to report, but they are just not as interesting. :)
We got there early. We were seated in a row of 2-seater booths, fairly close to the hostess area. As the evening progressed, more people filled the waiting area, until it was pretty full with people waiting for a table. This was a little Italian place, on the informal side. Nothing super fancy.
One woman in waiting decides that she is not going to wait in the designated waiting area. Oh no. Instead, she goes not just past the "wait to be seated" sign, not just into the restaurant proper, but directly beside our booth. There was a wall across from our table, across the very narrow aisle, that she was leaning on, arms folded, and she was no more than 2 feet away from us, just lurching over us like a vulture.
I mean, she could hear every word of our conversation. I'm telling you, she was RIGHT THERE. Not that our conversation was all that intriguing or anything, so I decided to make it so:
Me: "So, have you gotten laid lately?"
Hubby (who quickly follows suit): "Um, no, I haven't. Damn wife is frigid. Good thing I have you."
"Yeah, but I'm so sore all the time"
"I know. I've been told I'm too big before"
"Too big? Now that's an understatement".
"Are you complaining?"
"Oh no! I love them big, fat and juicy. The bigger the better. We just have to practice more"
etc., etc.
She just stood there. Continued to stand. And when we said the raunchiest stuff, she would look directly at us, like at our faces. As if we were in *her* space.
I even went so far as to say, "Gee...it's so nice to be able to get out for once and have adult conversation, one on one, in private, where no one can hear us". She still didn't leave until she got a table.
We said later that we should have just sarcastically asked her if she'd like to join us.
I know I'm a bit uptight with my personal space, but geez. If our table had bordered the waiting area, it would not have been her fault. But she was clearly out of bounds.
I always wonder what is running through people's minds when they act like idiots, and I wonder why they are not more like me (perfect - heh). I would feel very self-conscious hovering over someone's table like that. Why didn't she? Heck, maybe our fake conversation made it irresistible for her to leave.
At least hubby and I had a good test of our improvisational skills.
Edit: I just realized that my last post and this post are complaints about how people annoy me, ha ha. I see a theme here. My next post should be something more cheerful and positive. I'll work on it. I think I do have some upbeat things to report, but they are just not as interesting. :)
Friday, November 02, 2007
Full Circle
I was starting to re-read my previous entry b/c I haven't been back here in a while. Geesh...I can't believe I had the nerve to write some of that crap. Oh well. Gotta accept who I am.
But it's funny, as I am writing something, I think it's the greatest thing ever (sometimes). I re-read it a month later, and I think, gawd, what a freaking dumb ass. It's like hearing your voice on a tape recorder; it makes you flinch a little. ( Do they still make tape recorders btw? Or cassette tapes for that matter?) Anyway, that's why I delete my blogs from time to time. Part of the reason.
============================================================
Back to the topic at hand. I had an interesting, "first". A first for a mother, something I'm thinking most moms experience. At least I hope so for the sake of my sanity (explained more at the end of this).
My dad likes to rehash old stories into the ground. What dad doesn't do that? Many of his stories involve me, being that I'm an only child. Some of them are downright humiliating, like the story of how when I was six, I lost control of my hippee flower-laden banana-seat bicycle (a hand-me-down) going down a steep hill and a curve, and totally wiped out. My dad was behind me on his bike. He laughs about it to this day. It's not funny! :)
Another story involves making me feel guilty for something I did to my dad when I was 3 or 4 years old. My grandma babysat me daily while Mom worked and Dad was in school. I was really close to this grandma, all the way until when she died when I was 16 years old. [She was only 56 (breast cancer).]
Dad came to pick me up one day, and I did not want to go with him. I started crying. I was basically a good kid, so I did not throw an all out hissy fit, I don't think. But I did cry, and I probably whined that I wanted to stay with Grandma.
Well, I hurt my dad's feelings. He clammed up, seemed mad, and went storming back to his car. Actually, I was in my grandma's room on the bed crying, so I didn't see him leave. My grandma, who by all accounts was genuinely a good person through and through, came to me and said, "I think you hurt your daddy's feelings, Karla. He just left. You better go and chase him down before he leaves." (btw, my dad at the time was all of 25 years old.)
I immediately felt bad and guilty (as a 3 year old!) , and didn't like the idea of my dad abandoning me there after all, and so I ran after my dad. I caught him in time, but he would not talk to me all the way home.
He eventually forgave me, probably that day, I don't really remember, but he brings it up all the damn time ever since then. I felt guilty and sad about it for years. It was only VERY recently after some self-discovery that I can forgive myself for this atrocity because I was ONLY THREE (OR MAYBE FOUR) YEARS OLD!!!! I KNEW NOT WHAT I DID! C'MON!
Besides, I think my dad only brings it up all the time b/c he still must need reassurance that I love him. Mind you, he doesn't bring it up in a hateful tone. It's just a "remember that one time..." story. In fact, I think *he* might feel bad for reacting to me the way he did when I was 3. HE was the adult.
***********************************************************
WHICH BRINGS ME FULL CIRCLE:
My 14 mo. old son is pretty attached to me, although I would not describe him as overly attached. He doesn't cling to me all the time. He is generally happy to see me. He is very lovable and likes to hug and cuddle and kiss, IF he feels like it. If he's busy playing or whatnot, he's not going to hug for very long. And that is perfectly okay.
Particularly, if he hasn't seen me for a while, he will run up to me, jump up and down intermittently on each foot (running in place sort of), and raise his arms for me to pick him up. If I were to try to leave without him in that situation, he'd be very upset. I don't want him to be too attached, and he rarely gets that crazy about me picking him up. Only the first time after not seeing me all day will he *sometimes* do that. And I must admit, it tugs at my heartstrings just a bit that he is so happy to see me.
********************************************************************
My husband usually picks him up from daycare. The other day, I picked him from daycare.
So I go inside to get him....and....
He doesn't want to leave with me. Not at all.
He just clings to the caregiver like I'm the devil or something. When I finally pulled him off of her, he was crying a lot in his "NO! I don't want that" way, and he was putting his arms out for her to take him back from me. He was not screaming bloody murder or anything, and once we were walking out to the car, he seemed fine. But I gotta tell ya, I was a little heartbroken.
I did not react like my dad when he was 25 (had I been 25, I may have done the same thing; as it is, I'm 37). I acted completely normal on the outside. I didn't force myself on him, other than having to carry him to my car. I mean, I didn't smother him in hugs or kisses. I simply talked to him in normal tones and pointed things out to him and sang to him as we drove. The usual as far as outside appearances. But inside, I was hurting.
It's not HIS fault. Of course not. And it's not personal. I know all this. It hurt me just the same. Or rather, I felt sad. I know it's not logical or right to feel this way, but I felt it nonetheless.
I know kids do this and their moods change daily, hourly, by the minute. I just did NOT expect it. It was so all of a sudden! He was so happy to see me just the day before!
I dwell on things...and I started to wonder later if I was a bad mom. I wondered if when I went to get him out of his crib the next morning, he would start screaming and not want me.
Of course, he didn't. And since then, things have been back to normal, although I have not had to pick him up lately. I pick him up today though, so we'll see how it goes.
********************************************************
Now I know exactly how my dad felt. It's a little stab in the heart. A little betrayal. It's not the little guy's fault. But man, if your baby doesn't want you, at least the first time, it's a bit of a shock. I do feel a sort of closure with regards to that story with my dad though, and closer to my dad because of it. An "Ah! So *that's* what he meant" feeling, as happens so often to us as we grow up and re-live our parents' lives.
***********************************************************
You know, now a few days later, I learned something from this. And that is, I cannot place all my value on any one person, not even my darling son.
I've overcome most of my demons from the past, all my fucked up ways of thinking. One of my bad habits though was totally relying on someone to love me. If that person didn't love me, I was not a complete person. I couldn't function.
First it was my parents. And then my husband. Ah...my poor husband and the burden I put on him. No one can make someone else completely happy. That person really has to be happy with himself/herself first. It took me years to realize this. And I think I finally did/do get it with regards to my husband.
I think the demon resurfaced though with my son. Unknowingly, I think I was a little too in love with the little guy and I was putting ALL my love and self-worth into him. I knew, or thought, his love for now was unconditional. I knew I could always rely on him to love me and that I would always be a good mom. Not like a husband (sorry husband)...who argues with you and criticizes you and is emotional or emotionally unavailable from time to time (Read: they are HUMAN).
The pain I felt that day made me realize that I was wrong. I should NOT feel betrayed. I SHOULD be more logical about it. Just b/c baby is having an off day does not mean he doesn't love me. And so what...if he has days he doesn't love me...(or thinks he doesn't), it does not mean I am a bad person or a bad mom. And I am still loved. Why is it so hard for people to accept this, people that are like me? I want to say, "ME? No, I'm not really loved. Couldn't be.", but I totally am. :)
*******************************************************
This was every reaction to how I was feeling that day. I've written it all. I kept 95% of it inside me. It wasn't like I went berserk that day.
I did try to share with hubby. He does not understand, and was getting sort of mad at me. He kept saying pretty harshly: "That's just not LOGICAL! How do you think baby feels??? You cannot react this way!" (again, I was very calm when I told him this and not hysterical, although a bit hurt and sad). When I said all I wanted was empathy, he replied in a very, again harsh, and sarcastic tone: "Well, now you know how *I* feel all the time. How's THAT for your empathy?". [I love him, but sometimes he is not very nice. I cannot talk to him about how I am feeling sometimes, which makes me sad in a way.]
So...here I am. A new lesson in motherhood. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but definitely an interesting and very new feeling.
But it's funny, as I am writing something, I think it's the greatest thing ever (sometimes). I re-read it a month later, and I think, gawd, what a freaking dumb ass. It's like hearing your voice on a tape recorder; it makes you flinch a little. ( Do they still make tape recorders btw? Or cassette tapes for that matter?) Anyway, that's why I delete my blogs from time to time. Part of the reason.
============================================================
Back to the topic at hand. I had an interesting, "first". A first for a mother, something I'm thinking most moms experience. At least I hope so for the sake of my sanity (explained more at the end of this).
My dad likes to rehash old stories into the ground. What dad doesn't do that? Many of his stories involve me, being that I'm an only child. Some of them are downright humiliating, like the story of how when I was six, I lost control of my hippee flower-laden banana-seat bicycle (a hand-me-down) going down a steep hill and a curve, and totally wiped out. My dad was behind me on his bike. He laughs about it to this day. It's not funny! :)
Another story involves making me feel guilty for something I did to my dad when I was 3 or 4 years old. My grandma babysat me daily while Mom worked and Dad was in school. I was really close to this grandma, all the way until when she died when I was 16 years old. [She was only 56 (breast cancer).]
Dad came to pick me up one day, and I did not want to go with him. I started crying. I was basically a good kid, so I did not throw an all out hissy fit, I don't think. But I did cry, and I probably whined that I wanted to stay with Grandma.
Well, I hurt my dad's feelings. He clammed up, seemed mad, and went storming back to his car. Actually, I was in my grandma's room on the bed crying, so I didn't see him leave. My grandma, who by all accounts was genuinely a good person through and through, came to me and said, "I think you hurt your daddy's feelings, Karla. He just left. You better go and chase him down before he leaves." (btw, my dad at the time was all of 25 years old.)
I immediately felt bad and guilty (as a 3 year old!) , and didn't like the idea of my dad abandoning me there after all, and so I ran after my dad. I caught him in time, but he would not talk to me all the way home.
He eventually forgave me, probably that day, I don't really remember, but he brings it up all the damn time ever since then. I felt guilty and sad about it for years. It was only VERY recently after some self-discovery that I can forgive myself for this atrocity because I was ONLY THREE (OR MAYBE FOUR) YEARS OLD!!!! I KNEW NOT WHAT I DID! C'MON!
Besides, I think my dad only brings it up all the time b/c he still must need reassurance that I love him. Mind you, he doesn't bring it up in a hateful tone. It's just a "remember that one time..." story. In fact, I think *he* might feel bad for reacting to me the way he did when I was 3. HE was the adult.
***********************************************************
WHICH BRINGS ME FULL CIRCLE:
My 14 mo. old son is pretty attached to me, although I would not describe him as overly attached. He doesn't cling to me all the time. He is generally happy to see me. He is very lovable and likes to hug and cuddle and kiss, IF he feels like it. If he's busy playing or whatnot, he's not going to hug for very long. And that is perfectly okay.
Particularly, if he hasn't seen me for a while, he will run up to me, jump up and down intermittently on each foot (running in place sort of), and raise his arms for me to pick him up. If I were to try to leave without him in that situation, he'd be very upset. I don't want him to be too attached, and he rarely gets that crazy about me picking him up. Only the first time after not seeing me all day will he *sometimes* do that. And I must admit, it tugs at my heartstrings just a bit that he is so happy to see me.
********************************************************************
My husband usually picks him up from daycare. The other day, I picked him from daycare.
So I go inside to get him....and....
He doesn't want to leave with me. Not at all.
He just clings to the caregiver like I'm the devil or something. When I finally pulled him off of her, he was crying a lot in his "NO! I don't want that" way, and he was putting his arms out for her to take him back from me. He was not screaming bloody murder or anything, and once we were walking out to the car, he seemed fine. But I gotta tell ya, I was a little heartbroken.
I did not react like my dad when he was 25 (had I been 25, I may have done the same thing; as it is, I'm 37). I acted completely normal on the outside. I didn't force myself on him, other than having to carry him to my car. I mean, I didn't smother him in hugs or kisses. I simply talked to him in normal tones and pointed things out to him and sang to him as we drove. The usual as far as outside appearances. But inside, I was hurting.
It's not HIS fault. Of course not. And it's not personal. I know all this. It hurt me just the same. Or rather, I felt sad. I know it's not logical or right to feel this way, but I felt it nonetheless.
I know kids do this and their moods change daily, hourly, by the minute. I just did NOT expect it. It was so all of a sudden! He was so happy to see me just the day before!
I dwell on things...and I started to wonder later if I was a bad mom. I wondered if when I went to get him out of his crib the next morning, he would start screaming and not want me.
Of course, he didn't. And since then, things have been back to normal, although I have not had to pick him up lately. I pick him up today though, so we'll see how it goes.
********************************************************
Now I know exactly how my dad felt. It's a little stab in the heart. A little betrayal. It's not the little guy's fault. But man, if your baby doesn't want you, at least the first time, it's a bit of a shock. I do feel a sort of closure with regards to that story with my dad though, and closer to my dad because of it. An "Ah! So *that's* what he meant" feeling, as happens so often to us as we grow up and re-live our parents' lives.
***********************************************************
You know, now a few days later, I learned something from this. And that is, I cannot place all my value on any one person, not even my darling son.
I've overcome most of my demons from the past, all my fucked up ways of thinking. One of my bad habits though was totally relying on someone to love me. If that person didn't love me, I was not a complete person. I couldn't function.
First it was my parents. And then my husband. Ah...my poor husband and the burden I put on him. No one can make someone else completely happy. That person really has to be happy with himself/herself first. It took me years to realize this. And I think I finally did/do get it with regards to my husband.
I think the demon resurfaced though with my son. Unknowingly, I think I was a little too in love with the little guy and I was putting ALL my love and self-worth into him. I knew, or thought, his love for now was unconditional. I knew I could always rely on him to love me and that I would always be a good mom. Not like a husband (sorry husband)...who argues with you and criticizes you and is emotional or emotionally unavailable from time to time (Read: they are HUMAN).
The pain I felt that day made me realize that I was wrong. I should NOT feel betrayed. I SHOULD be more logical about it. Just b/c baby is having an off day does not mean he doesn't love me. And so what...if he has days he doesn't love me...(or thinks he doesn't), it does not mean I am a bad person or a bad mom. And I am still loved. Why is it so hard for people to accept this, people that are like me? I want to say, "ME? No, I'm not really loved. Couldn't be.", but I totally am. :)
*******************************************************
This was every reaction to how I was feeling that day. I've written it all. I kept 95% of it inside me. It wasn't like I went berserk that day.
I did try to share with hubby. He does not understand, and was getting sort of mad at me. He kept saying pretty harshly: "That's just not LOGICAL! How do you think baby feels??? You cannot react this way!" (again, I was very calm when I told him this and not hysterical, although a bit hurt and sad). When I said all I wanted was empathy, he replied in a very, again harsh, and sarcastic tone: "Well, now you know how *I* feel all the time. How's THAT for your empathy?". [I love him, but sometimes he is not very nice. I cannot talk to him about how I am feeling sometimes, which makes me sad in a way.]
So...here I am. A new lesson in motherhood. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but definitely an interesting and very new feeling.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I Have A Spasm
This is going to be the weirdest post ever.
Okay, so I get these spasms in my muscles. Twitches if you will.
I've heard other people talk about this, particularly people who work out. So, I know it's not just me.
The thing is, I am and always have been completely obsessed with them. If you didn't think I was weird before, brace yourself.
It's not from working out either. I've had them since I was a wee child. And I've always been obsessed with them.
I used to think, as a wee child, that it was a "pulse" of some sort, like blood trapped in my capillaries or something. I have since been educated that it is muscle. I still joke with my husband saying "it's blood! It's a pulse gone awry!", so he will be happy to know that I am finally admitting that it's muscle.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about...you know how sometimes when you are tired you get that twitch in you eye? It's like that, except I get them all over my body at various times. Here are all the places I have gotten twitches/spasms (never at the same time, mind you):
1) Eye lid (upper and lower, either together or separate)
2) Lip (upper and lower)
3) Nose in various parts
4) Temple ( get this a lot - right above temple actually)
5) Various parts of my scalp
6) Neck (very common)
7) Stomach
8) Various parts of arms and legs
9) Clitoris (not kidding - I like those)
10) Other parts of the private region
11) Back
12) And the best twitches of all - the ones that originate somewhere else, but then cause an appendage to twitch - like it originates somewhere in my forearm causing a finger to twitch. Or in my foot causing a toe to twitch. It causes the appendage to move in a way that you could never move it manually or on purpose, and it's realllly weird....oooohhhh!
How I am obsessed (if you couldn't tell already):
A) I think part of the reason I'm obsessed is that I am so damn aware of them. They cannot be ignored. When I ask others about it, they are like, 'I dunno, maybe I get them, not sure'. I know where I get them and when.
B) Likewise, when I have them, I can barely function. I have to stop what I'm doing and look at them. I alternate between looking at them, touching them, and looking at them in the mirror. Sometimes, like if I have one in my leg, I like to lay down and put an object on the spasm and watch *it* move, like a book, pencil, or a coaster or something.
The best, and weirdest thing to do is to take a piece of chewed gum, stick it on the spasm, and then stick a toothpick in the gum and watch the toothpick move. It's really creepy. These are best for those subtle, really deep spasms that you can feel happening within the muscle, but can't feel with your hands and you can't see. The toothpick/gum combo reveals all.
C) I also feel a compulsion to make others feel it or see it, but this is a privilege only people really close to me get to share (I don't make public announcements regarding my weirdness. Well, I guess this is one of sorts, but the audience is small). When I was younger, it was my best friend forced to look at or feel all my spasms (not the genitalia ones).
My parents also have had their fair share of being forced to look at them, to the point where they ignore me when I request they look. My mom ended up exclaiming "go to the doctor then!", so I quit showing her.
Now, my darling husband gets spasm duty, and he almost always obliges. He's very good that way. I get to look at and feel his occasional spasms, too. His nose is the place his spasms like to go. We can even kickstart it if it stops by flicking his nose with my fingers. Then it really gets mad and twitches like crazy.
My spasms do have a habit of stopping once I get someone to look at it. So if I want it to stop, I ask Matt to look at it. I love it when he catches it in action though. It's total validation of what I have to suffer through. I always say, "How am I supposed to function while I have this spasm going on"? Another common thing to say in my house: when I stop mid-conversation and stare at my arm, for example, I need only say "spasm" and Matt knows what I'm doing. In fact, he says it for me much of the time.
You can imagine my delight when I was pregnant. Those were the wet dreams of spasms. They weren't true spasms in that it was not my muscles moving, but it felt almost exactly the same, except much better. I'm talking about baby moving. First the kicking, then the rolling around and out and out moving from one side to the other. I also did the thing where I put an object on my belly to watch it move, mostly the remote control. And my baby was game, too - what a mover he was. I had my hands on my belly all the time to feel the moving and bumping and twitching, and at work, I spent half my time staring at or feeling my belly. It made it very difficult to drive b/c I wanted to feel it then, too, as I do all my spasms.
I probably need more vitamins. Or therapy.
The spasm I have today is in my left thigh. Actually, it rotates between my thigh and left calf. It's intriguing. Okay, time to feel the spasm again. Gotta go.
(and people who wonder in what way I was a nerd in high school, here ya go!)
Okay, so I get these spasms in my muscles. Twitches if you will.
I've heard other people talk about this, particularly people who work out. So, I know it's not just me.
The thing is, I am and always have been completely obsessed with them. If you didn't think I was weird before, brace yourself.
It's not from working out either. I've had them since I was a wee child. And I've always been obsessed with them.
I used to think, as a wee child, that it was a "pulse" of some sort, like blood trapped in my capillaries or something. I have since been educated that it is muscle. I still joke with my husband saying "it's blood! It's a pulse gone awry!", so he will be happy to know that I am finally admitting that it's muscle.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about...you know how sometimes when you are tired you get that twitch in you eye? It's like that, except I get them all over my body at various times. Here are all the places I have gotten twitches/spasms (never at the same time, mind you):
1) Eye lid (upper and lower, either together or separate)
2) Lip (upper and lower)
3) Nose in various parts
4) Temple ( get this a lot - right above temple actually)
5) Various parts of my scalp
6) Neck (very common)
7) Stomach
8) Various parts of arms and legs
9) Clitoris (not kidding - I like those)
10) Other parts of the private region
11) Back
12) And the best twitches of all - the ones that originate somewhere else, but then cause an appendage to twitch - like it originates somewhere in my forearm causing a finger to twitch. Or in my foot causing a toe to twitch. It causes the appendage to move in a way that you could never move it manually or on purpose, and it's realllly weird....oooohhhh!
How I am obsessed (if you couldn't tell already):
A) I think part of the reason I'm obsessed is that I am so damn aware of them. They cannot be ignored. When I ask others about it, they are like, 'I dunno, maybe I get them, not sure'. I know where I get them and when.
B) Likewise, when I have them, I can barely function. I have to stop what I'm doing and look at them. I alternate between looking at them, touching them, and looking at them in the mirror. Sometimes, like if I have one in my leg, I like to lay down and put an object on the spasm and watch *it* move, like a book, pencil, or a coaster or something.
The best, and weirdest thing to do is to take a piece of chewed gum, stick it on the spasm, and then stick a toothpick in the gum and watch the toothpick move. It's really creepy. These are best for those subtle, really deep spasms that you can feel happening within the muscle, but can't feel with your hands and you can't see. The toothpick/gum combo reveals all.
C) I also feel a compulsion to make others feel it or see it, but this is a privilege only people really close to me get to share (I don't make public announcements regarding my weirdness. Well, I guess this is one of sorts, but the audience is small). When I was younger, it was my best friend forced to look at or feel all my spasms (not the genitalia ones).
My parents also have had their fair share of being forced to look at them, to the point where they ignore me when I request they look. My mom ended up exclaiming "go to the doctor then!", so I quit showing her.
Now, my darling husband gets spasm duty, and he almost always obliges. He's very good that way. I get to look at and feel his occasional spasms, too. His nose is the place his spasms like to go. We can even kickstart it if it stops by flicking his nose with my fingers. Then it really gets mad and twitches like crazy.
My spasms do have a habit of stopping once I get someone to look at it. So if I want it to stop, I ask Matt to look at it. I love it when he catches it in action though. It's total validation of what I have to suffer through. I always say, "How am I supposed to function while I have this spasm going on"? Another common thing to say in my house: when I stop mid-conversation and stare at my arm, for example, I need only say "spasm" and Matt knows what I'm doing. In fact, he says it for me much of the time.
You can imagine my delight when I was pregnant. Those were the wet dreams of spasms. They weren't true spasms in that it was not my muscles moving, but it felt almost exactly the same, except much better. I'm talking about baby moving. First the kicking, then the rolling around and out and out moving from one side to the other. I also did the thing where I put an object on my belly to watch it move, mostly the remote control. And my baby was game, too - what a mover he was. I had my hands on my belly all the time to feel the moving and bumping and twitching, and at work, I spent half my time staring at or feeling my belly. It made it very difficult to drive b/c I wanted to feel it then, too, as I do all my spasms.
I probably need more vitamins. Or therapy.
The spasm I have today is in my left thigh. Actually, it rotates between my thigh and left calf. It's intriguing. Okay, time to feel the spasm again. Gotta go.
(and people who wonder in what way I was a nerd in high school, here ya go!)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Hormones, Conformity, and Fashion. I think this is all related, but I'm not really sure.
I'm not feeling so numb now. I think it was just a fluctuating hormonal issue, LOL. I will never get used to the ebb and flow of my hormones, it seems. I never recognize it while it's happening. When I start feeling something crazy, or not feeling anything at all, I never think, "ah...it's my tumultuous hormones acting up again! I shall ride it out!". Nope...I never get it until after the fact. My emotions get wacky, I get cramps, I think "why, why, why???", and then I figure it out when certain things happen, or rather, flow. Duh!
I think that's what it was. In any case, I feel more normal now. Normal for me.
I wrote a while back about being anti-LOL and anti-other silly internet jargon. Notice I use LOL in the very first paragraph of this post. I have conformed. It's just easier to talk the talk and walk the walk of the Romans when I'm in Rome.
Historically, I eventually cave like that. I'm all anti-new things, especially when it comes to hype and popular stuff, but eventually I come around and participate. The funny and sad thing is, I'm usually too late, and by the time I conform, the said subject is out of style.
I just starting using "rawks" and "kewl", mostly as a joke, but I've been told that this is now 3 years out of style, and you can't even joke around about using them now. (to the person who enlightened me on this fact, I love ya man. I truly thought it was funny...no worries. It's just making this essay better, is all) :)
Other examples are TV shows. I did not like nor watch Friends or Seinfeld when they were popular. People talked about them so much, that I refused to watch them. Now I love them both, and both are in syndication.
Same with fashion...I refuse to buy things the minute it becomes a fashion necessity, until about a year later when no one else is wearing it.
Lucky for me, I am 36 years old. Whew! Thank God I do not have to be KEWL anymore. No one really notices, I don't think. (BTW, I hated high school. ;) )
Speaking of being out of it....I would hate to be on the show "What Not To Wear". I would consider that a personal insult. I lied earlier...I am actually quite fashionably hip, at least in my mind's eye, and for a 36 year old, and for a Midwesterner (thank god I am not in NY or Cali. It's easy to maintain a fashion sense where I live. Just look around. People need to get their shit together.).
Many people say they would love that show b/c you get $5000 worth of shopping. My arguments to that:
1) Have you seen the show? They surprise you by telling you on TV that all of your friends and family got together and decided you are the worst dressed person they know, with no fashion sense whatsoever. Stacy and Clinton are harsh and mean. I love them on the show, but I am way too thin-skinned for that.
2) $5000 is not going to get you very far with the types of clothes they want you to buy...jeans and tops and dresses for $500 a piece, or more! I agree with all the participants who hate spending that much and want to find a bargain. And then they want you to pay a tailor to make it fit just right. Whatever. Obviously, I'm too poor to understand all that.
3) Finally, they give you a credit card with your name on it. Big deal! I've got plenty of those! I want a credit card with *their* name on it, b/c the last time I checked, credit cards with your name on it have the bills sent to your name! I know the show pays for it, but I still think they need to fix that glitch.
I would love to get a makeover by that hair guy and the makeup girl though. I'd take that in a heartbeat. I wish my hairdresser knew what to do like that. Mine is good, but I have to make most of the decisions, and I have a hard time explaining myself b/c, you know, I am not a hairdresser. The hair guy on that show is all about "Your hair needs this color and this cut, and then you will look good" and he is usually right.
I've gotten great tips from that show, but a couple of things I don't agree with:
1) They think it's horrible to wear jogging pants, those striped track kind, to walk in your neighborhood. They wanted this chick to throw them away, and the lady was like, "oh, I just wear these to walk in my neighborhood", and Stacy yells out "WELL! I FEEL SORRY FOR YOUR NEIGHBORS THEN!!!". What? Who cares? Just to walk or exercise, I'm not going to worry about it. Even to the mall or the grocery store, I don't mind not looking perfect, although I agree that you shouldn't look like a slob all the time either.
I mean, I've got my cute little workout outfits, b/c I need them for motivation, so I don't look like a ragged, rundown housewife when I work out, but my outfits include track pants and yoga pants, and I (gasp!) wear them in my neighborhood. My husband and I always joke around about it with "you're going to go outside looking like THAT??? What will the neighbors think???"
2) Scrunchies: people need to lighten up about these. I don't wear them out to dinner or to work, but can't you pull your hair back with them while you do housework for gosh sakes? I do.
3) They made one chick throw away her Olympic jacket and she was in the Olympics! Whatever. I'd tell them to F off. It's not like she has to wear that out on dates or anything.
That said...some people's fashion styles on that show are hilarious. I especially love the ones that are people my age trying to dress like a 20 year old.
And that is one thing I learned...how to dress at the right age without looking like an old lady. It's quite difficult at my age, I think, to find the perfect balance, and something I'll elaborate on later.
***********************************************
PS for those in blogland: Thank you to everyone who may read and/or post on this silly blog o'mine. I have been terribly negligent in most aspects of my life, especially my friends and everything internet related. The baby and working full time is a huge challenge for me, and I'm still learning to manage time. I suck miserably at it. I barely manage to pay bills. I try to check in on blogs when I can, and am always happy to see when you are doing well, and am sad if you are not. I may read, but can't always comment. And it's not b/c I'm too good for this or lead such an active life...I'm telling you...everything is baby, baby, baby right now. SO....I'm sure my friends understand, and, thanks again! ;-) (I'm looking to quit my job so I can get back to internet surfing full time, heh. Priorities!)
I think that's what it was. In any case, I feel more normal now. Normal for me.
I wrote a while back about being anti-LOL and anti-other silly internet jargon. Notice I use LOL in the very first paragraph of this post. I have conformed. It's just easier to talk the talk and walk the walk of the Romans when I'm in Rome.
Historically, I eventually cave like that. I'm all anti-new things, especially when it comes to hype and popular stuff, but eventually I come around and participate. The funny and sad thing is, I'm usually too late, and by the time I conform, the said subject is out of style.
I just starting using "rawks" and "kewl", mostly as a joke, but I've been told that this is now 3 years out of style, and you can't even joke around about using them now. (to the person who enlightened me on this fact, I love ya man. I truly thought it was funny...no worries. It's just making this essay better, is all) :)
Other examples are TV shows. I did not like nor watch Friends or Seinfeld when they were popular. People talked about them so much, that I refused to watch them. Now I love them both, and both are in syndication.
Same with fashion...I refuse to buy things the minute it becomes a fashion necessity, until about a year later when no one else is wearing it.
Lucky for me, I am 36 years old. Whew! Thank God I do not have to be KEWL anymore. No one really notices, I don't think. (BTW, I hated high school. ;) )
Speaking of being out of it....I would hate to be on the show "What Not To Wear". I would consider that a personal insult. I lied earlier...I am actually quite fashionably hip, at least in my mind's eye, and for a 36 year old, and for a Midwesterner (thank god I am not in NY or Cali. It's easy to maintain a fashion sense where I live. Just look around. People need to get their shit together.).
Many people say they would love that show b/c you get $5000 worth of shopping. My arguments to that:
1) Have you seen the show? They surprise you by telling you on TV that all of your friends and family got together and decided you are the worst dressed person they know, with no fashion sense whatsoever. Stacy and Clinton are harsh and mean. I love them on the show, but I am way too thin-skinned for that.
2) $5000 is not going to get you very far with the types of clothes they want you to buy...jeans and tops and dresses for $500 a piece, or more! I agree with all the participants who hate spending that much and want to find a bargain. And then they want you to pay a tailor to make it fit just right. Whatever. Obviously, I'm too poor to understand all that.
3) Finally, they give you a credit card with your name on it. Big deal! I've got plenty of those! I want a credit card with *their* name on it, b/c the last time I checked, credit cards with your name on it have the bills sent to your name! I know the show pays for it, but I still think they need to fix that glitch.
I would love to get a makeover by that hair guy and the makeup girl though. I'd take that in a heartbeat. I wish my hairdresser knew what to do like that. Mine is good, but I have to make most of the decisions, and I have a hard time explaining myself b/c, you know, I am not a hairdresser. The hair guy on that show is all about "Your hair needs this color and this cut, and then you will look good" and he is usually right.
I've gotten great tips from that show, but a couple of things I don't agree with:
1) They think it's horrible to wear jogging pants, those striped track kind, to walk in your neighborhood. They wanted this chick to throw them away, and the lady was like, "oh, I just wear these to walk in my neighborhood", and Stacy yells out "WELL! I FEEL SORRY FOR YOUR NEIGHBORS THEN!!!". What? Who cares? Just to walk or exercise, I'm not going to worry about it. Even to the mall or the grocery store, I don't mind not looking perfect, although I agree that you shouldn't look like a slob all the time either.
I mean, I've got my cute little workout outfits, b/c I need them for motivation, so I don't look like a ragged, rundown housewife when I work out, but my outfits include track pants and yoga pants, and I (gasp!) wear them in my neighborhood. My husband and I always joke around about it with "you're going to go outside looking like THAT??? What will the neighbors think???"
2) Scrunchies: people need to lighten up about these. I don't wear them out to dinner or to work, but can't you pull your hair back with them while you do housework for gosh sakes? I do.
3) They made one chick throw away her Olympic jacket and she was in the Olympics! Whatever. I'd tell them to F off. It's not like she has to wear that out on dates or anything.
That said...some people's fashion styles on that show are hilarious. I especially love the ones that are people my age trying to dress like a 20 year old.
And that is one thing I learned...how to dress at the right age without looking like an old lady. It's quite difficult at my age, I think, to find the perfect balance, and something I'll elaborate on later.
***********************************************
PS for those in blogland: Thank you to everyone who may read and/or post on this silly blog o'mine. I have been terribly negligent in most aspects of my life, especially my friends and everything internet related. The baby and working full time is a huge challenge for me, and I'm still learning to manage time. I suck miserably at it. I barely manage to pay bills. I try to check in on blogs when I can, and am always happy to see when you are doing well, and am sad if you are not. I may read, but can't always comment. And it's not b/c I'm too good for this or lead such an active life...I'm telling you...everything is baby, baby, baby right now. SO....I'm sure my friends understand, and, thanks again! ;-) (I'm looking to quit my job so I can get back to internet surfing full time, heh. Priorities!)
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Cell Phone Hell: The Generation Gap Widens
Cell phones.
On the college campus where I work, I challenge you to find a student who is not walking and talking on his or her cell phone. I would guess 7 out of 10 students are doing such.
And what, maybe 3 out of 5 drivers? It’s not illegal here as far as I know. Yet.
Really, just about everywhere I go, grocery store, movie theater, mall, it doesn’t matter, I see at least one person on their cell phone. At the very least.
So what, right? What business of is this is mine?
I’ll tell you why it’s my business, and I’ll let you in on a little secret:
Did you know that talking on your cell phone gives you automatic privileges and the right to ignore everyone in your path? What happens is that as soon as you commence to talking on your cellular, an invisible bubble engulfs you – a force field if you will, whereupon as you walk or drive, everyone and everything parts out of your path. Pretty fucking cool, huh? The stuff good science fiction is made of!
I didn’t believe it myself, but my husband and I tried a little experiment. We were at JC Penney’s around the Christmas holiday getting pictures of our baby taken. Getting pictures means you wait around forever to get the actual picture shot (if it’s a holiday), then go away for about an hour while Penney’s tries to figure out the best ways to rip you off by forcing you to look at millions of poses of your little baby…way more than you expected or needed to buy. I mean, you’d be a real asshole if you didn’t find the photos adorable and didn’t want to buy all you could.
Anyway, back to the experiment. Matt & I were shopping around waiting for the great photo finish. We noticed that when people were walking around while talking on their cell phones, several things happened:
1) They somehow could not see us, but we could see them! Even with our stroller. When walking towards other cell phone talkers directly in our path, we could tell they were in a very serious conversation, that they could not see us, and so when they came charging towards us, we were forced to dive roll to the side out of their way. That is very hard to do with a baby in a stroller. We were amazed that the stroller would not break the cell phone force field, but it would not.
2) The invisible bubble essentially created a microcosm of the cell phone user’s living room. What this means is that they had complete privacy to talk as loudly as they wanted about anything they wanted, with total disregard to everyone around them, because, they were basically in their own living room
3) Being on their cell phone and in the bubble gave them dibs to just about everything in the store! Cool!
Matt & I were skeptical, as I said. This couldn’t be true. Matt was getting frustrated that we also did not have this power, or rather, that we weren’t using it to it’s fullest potential.
So you know what he did? He got his cell phone out and started in on a fake conversation. He talked very loudly and with authority, as if what he had to say was serious business & required the utmost attention. He did this as I followed him around with the stroller.
I shit you not….people got out of the way! Matt just stormed through the store and everyone moved for us. The bubble really exists!
I normally would protest such asshole moves like this. I mean, we don’t want to be like the rest of the assholes out there. But, it was pretty freaking funny that everyone moved like that, and that we had the power. And to be honest, I was grateful to not be knocked down anymore by other cell phone users. It felt good to just rampage through the store as if we were very important, too.
So, now I believe in the invisible cell phone bubble and it’s immense power. Having this knowledge helps to explain several things to me:
1) Why students feel the need to call someone as soon as they leave class to tell their friends they are going to the next class now.
2) Why said students can cut me off, walk as slow as they want to in front of me in a zig-zag path, and scream in my ear about the party last night to their friends on the phone.
3) Why people answer their cell phones during movies at the theater, and talk as if there is no one around and like they are in their own living room: “Hey dude. I’m watching Spider-man. Yeah, it’s pretty good. Whaddup?” – all in a normal tone of voice! Groovy!
4) Why when people drive while talking on their cell phones they don’t have to obey traffic laws or even drive in a straight line.
5) Why people need to idly chit chat through the aisles of the grocery store, and why I am forced out of the way while they do so.
6) Why in said grocery store, the sneaky folks who use the hidden ear plug thingies always give me dirty looks when I answer them back. I’m breaking their force field, damn it!
7) Why cell phones have to be answered no matter what, no matter what cost, no matter what the circumstance, even when I’m out to dinner with a friend one-on-one, and so I’m forced to sit uncomfortably throughout their conversation while I look like a tool.
You see, I did not know about the cell phone force field. I was just using my phone for emergencies, or to quickly tell Matt when I’d be home, etc. The conversation always had a direct purpose. And I stupidly tried to be polite and respect others’ space, and to be safe about it while driving,
It never occurred to me to use the cell phone while standing at the cash register, or while in the bathroom stall, or while on a date with Matt. Had I known about the invisible force field bubble, I would have wielded this power long ago.
It’s never too late to learn. My next task is to work on keeping up with cell phone sizes. Every time I upgrade to a smaller phone, they get even smaller, and I can’t keep up. My phone always looks gigantic compared to the bubbly little sorority girl’s phone next to me in line at the bookstore.
I’m sure sometime in the future there will be some sort of nanotechnology where the phone will basically be in our body somewhere and we simply control it with our minds. Awesome! As long as the bubble is still a part of the program, and I’m sure it will be.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Shaken, Not Stirred, sure. But Shaken, not Wiped?
I am an only child. This means, duh, I do not have brothers and sisters.
I did a lot of babysitting, but that’s not the same as watching your mother take care of a sibling every day.
I helped my grandma babysit my cousins, but the following subject never came up.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
An Education on What Happens at the Toilet
Or “Another Great Topic for Dinner Conversation!”
I am a woman, and I know what women do and don’t do on the toilet. They do not stand to pee. They sit. There are always exceptions, but I’m talking about the norm here. And I’m going to be talking about the norm throughout this essay.
So, women sit. We’re clear on that. No matter what we’re doing on said toilet, we sit (or squat if in public).
Another thing that women do: We wipe. No matter what has come out of what orifice, we wipe it nice and clean and dry. A sort of analogy to a famous saying men use for men at the toilet: If you wipe too long, then you’re just playing with it (but women are not so apt to play with it on the toilet. I’m not saying it hasn’t been done, but most women are of the opinion that the toilet is not the place to be. We want to do our business, and then hightail it out of there. Men seem to love it there, which is why it takes them twice as long to finish poo’ing and why they like to read encyclopedias in there. It’s their escape! So..very…sad.) Regardless, we wipe.
Unless we notice after the fact that there is no tp and then we are forced to drip dry, which never works very well, now does it?
So, women sit. Women wipe. Yay for Women.
Men.
My logic always told me that if women wipe, men must wipe, too. Of course they do for their sit down function (again, the majority here), but for the standing, they’d wipe, too, right? I mean, they just peed, so why wouldn’t they wipe it nice and dry? Sure, they’ve got some extra tubing, but does how long the tube is really matter? Sure, the end of the tube is farther away from a man’s body than a woman’s, but it’s still their body – the opening is still at the end of their body. I know “it” sometimes has its own mind and personality, but when they say that they are just making excuses - it is still part of their body.
Imagine my amazement when I discovered at the age of 22 that men didn’t wipe after all. Huh, whaddya know? They shake it! It’s a whole procedure where they sort of squeeze it to the end, and then flop that puppy around like there’s no tomorrow.
I see some faulty logic here:
1) No amount of shaking is going to get it nice and dry. Women know this, hence, we do not shake our ass all around trying to get it dry. Just imagine!
2) The toilet bowl is not so big and the men are not so accurate that they can aim the droplets produced by their shaking directly into the commode. Hence, the huge mess that most men make on the toilet bowl and the surrounding area.
My husband happens to be a very clean person. We do not have piss all around our toilet. However, I do tend to find a mess of piss on the rim when I lift the lid to clean it. He can’t ever see it, of course, being that he’s standing the whole time and too busy aiming his wiener. He does wipe the rim off most of the time though – I’ll give him that, but wouldn’t it be easier just to wipe the sausage in the first place?
3) Related to 1) , without wiping it, they are going to get little droplets of piss on their underwear. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it. I know. Maybe not everytime, maybe not everyone, but it is possible.
I propose that men everywhere stop with the shaking and take just one square of toilet paper and dab that baby. I think you would like the results of this much better. You’d get it nice and dry, your underwear wouldn’t get a little dab of piss on it, our toilets would be cleaner, and when you come to bed, I would not feel a little wetness or piss droplets on my leg.
Plus, if you want my mouth anywhere near it, I’d prefer no urinal residue, thank you very much, or I’d at least like the residue to be minimized. I don’t like the thought of the piss only being shaken off the stick followed by being placed anywhere near my body. I mean, I’d prefer a full body bath beforehand actually, but, one can’t get too picky about these things or one would be considered an uptight bitch.
I wondered why the little boy I babysat for when I was a teen always gave me a funny, sideways look when I made him wipe it. I didn’t know! He is probably in therapy now because of me.
On that note, do I teach my son to “shake it” or what? “Okay, honey, now, just slowly squeeze it to the end and now…..SHAKE IT! YAY!! SHAKE IT LIKE CRAZY!! YOU GET ALL THAT PEE OFF OF THERE! Good boy!!!”, and then do I have to physically show him? I suppose with a little boy in training, he would just have to jiggle it a little or something. But he really won’t be using toilet paper for this??? Sounds like a job for hubby. Oh my.
I did a lot of babysitting, but that’s not the same as watching your mother take care of a sibling every day.
I helped my grandma babysit my cousins, but the following subject never came up.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
An Education on What Happens at the Toilet
Or “Another Great Topic for Dinner Conversation!”
I am a woman, and I know what women do and don’t do on the toilet. They do not stand to pee. They sit. There are always exceptions, but I’m talking about the norm here. And I’m going to be talking about the norm throughout this essay.
So, women sit. We’re clear on that. No matter what we’re doing on said toilet, we sit (or squat if in public).
Another thing that women do: We wipe. No matter what has come out of what orifice, we wipe it nice and clean and dry. A sort of analogy to a famous saying men use for men at the toilet: If you wipe too long, then you’re just playing with it (but women are not so apt to play with it on the toilet. I’m not saying it hasn’t been done, but most women are of the opinion that the toilet is not the place to be. We want to do our business, and then hightail it out of there. Men seem to love it there, which is why it takes them twice as long to finish poo’ing and why they like to read encyclopedias in there. It’s their escape! So..very…sad.) Regardless, we wipe.
Unless we notice after the fact that there is no tp and then we are forced to drip dry, which never works very well, now does it?
So, women sit. Women wipe. Yay for Women.
Men.
My logic always told me that if women wipe, men must wipe, too. Of course they do for their sit down function (again, the majority here), but for the standing, they’d wipe, too, right? I mean, they just peed, so why wouldn’t they wipe it nice and dry? Sure, they’ve got some extra tubing, but does how long the tube is really matter? Sure, the end of the tube is farther away from a man’s body than a woman’s, but it’s still their body – the opening is still at the end of their body. I know “it” sometimes has its own mind and personality, but when they say that they are just making excuses - it is still part of their body.
Imagine my amazement when I discovered at the age of 22 that men didn’t wipe after all. Huh, whaddya know? They shake it! It’s a whole procedure where they sort of squeeze it to the end, and then flop that puppy around like there’s no tomorrow.
I see some faulty logic here:
1) No amount of shaking is going to get it nice and dry. Women know this, hence, we do not shake our ass all around trying to get it dry. Just imagine!
2) The toilet bowl is not so big and the men are not so accurate that they can aim the droplets produced by their shaking directly into the commode. Hence, the huge mess that most men make on the toilet bowl and the surrounding area.
My husband happens to be a very clean person. We do not have piss all around our toilet. However, I do tend to find a mess of piss on the rim when I lift the lid to clean it. He can’t ever see it, of course, being that he’s standing the whole time and too busy aiming his wiener. He does wipe the rim off most of the time though – I’ll give him that, but wouldn’t it be easier just to wipe the sausage in the first place?
3) Related to 1) , without wiping it, they are going to get little droplets of piss on their underwear. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it. I know. Maybe not everytime, maybe not everyone, but it is possible.
I propose that men everywhere stop with the shaking and take just one square of toilet paper and dab that baby. I think you would like the results of this much better. You’d get it nice and dry, your underwear wouldn’t get a little dab of piss on it, our toilets would be cleaner, and when you come to bed, I would not feel a little wetness or piss droplets on my leg.
Plus, if you want my mouth anywhere near it, I’d prefer no urinal residue, thank you very much, or I’d at least like the residue to be minimized. I don’t like the thought of the piss only being shaken off the stick followed by being placed anywhere near my body. I mean, I’d prefer a full body bath beforehand actually, but, one can’t get too picky about these things or one would be considered an uptight bitch.
I wondered why the little boy I babysat for when I was a teen always gave me a funny, sideways look when I made him wipe it. I didn’t know! He is probably in therapy now because of me.
On that note, do I teach my son to “shake it” or what? “Okay, honey, now, just slowly squeeze it to the end and now…..SHAKE IT! YAY!! SHAKE IT LIKE CRAZY!! YOU GET ALL THAT PEE OFF OF THERE! Good boy!!!”, and then do I have to physically show him? I suppose with a little boy in training, he would just have to jiggle it a little or something. But he really won’t be using toilet paper for this??? Sounds like a job for hubby. Oh my.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Pill Popping, aka Swallowing
Why is it that at 36 years old, I still cannot swallow pills well?
I have to drink milk in order to take pills. Nothing else works. Then no one can be in the room while I attempt my feat of pill swallowing. Especially Matt - he cannot watch me. I just cannot swallow with him staring at me [insert dirty joke here]. It's weird.
Even when alone finally, I sit there with the pill on the back of my tongue for what seems like forever, bobbing my head up and down trying to get my throat to accept this foreign object (more dirty jokes popping up in my head, but I'm not talking about that).
Once I finally swallow [hee - I can't get past that word!), half the time, the stupid thing turns completely sideways, wherein I can feel it slowly slide down my food tube inch by painful inch, until it becomes lodged somewhere between my throat and my stomach, forcing me to drink a gallon of milk to get it completely down. What's the deal with that?
The other half of the time, I swallow it completely wrong, it doesn't make it past the back of my throat, and I end up gagging and sort of puking it back up, and all the outer coating has rubbed off and it's all gross and stuff.
The culprit pill of the moment is my prescription prenatal vitamins, which I still take for breastfeeding purposes. I take one every day, and every day, it's a battle. They are not small, but they are not the biggest pills I've ever taken, and at least they are coated with that slimy stuff that makes them a tad easier to swallow (cuz you know, slimy=more swallowable).
I once tried to take these calcium pills clearly made for horses, and with no good coating. Forget about it. After 2 or 3 days of trying to force those suckers down, I gave up, and upped my milk consumptin instead.
So, how old am I again? Am I going to have to crush my pills or take all liquid medicine? Do we need to wrap my pills up in a treat like we do for the dog? Geesh.
I have to drink milk in order to take pills. Nothing else works. Then no one can be in the room while I attempt my feat of pill swallowing. Especially Matt - he cannot watch me. I just cannot swallow with him staring at me [insert dirty joke here]. It's weird.
Even when alone finally, I sit there with the pill on the back of my tongue for what seems like forever, bobbing my head up and down trying to get my throat to accept this foreign object (more dirty jokes popping up in my head, but I'm not talking about that).
Once I finally swallow [hee - I can't get past that word!), half the time, the stupid thing turns completely sideways, wherein I can feel it slowly slide down my food tube inch by painful inch, until it becomes lodged somewhere between my throat and my stomach, forcing me to drink a gallon of milk to get it completely down. What's the deal with that?
The other half of the time, I swallow it completely wrong, it doesn't make it past the back of my throat, and I end up gagging and sort of puking it back up, and all the outer coating has rubbed off and it's all gross and stuff.
The culprit pill of the moment is my prescription prenatal vitamins, which I still take for breastfeeding purposes. I take one every day, and every day, it's a battle. They are not small, but they are not the biggest pills I've ever taken, and at least they are coated with that slimy stuff that makes them a tad easier to swallow (cuz you know, slimy=more swallowable).
I once tried to take these calcium pills clearly made for horses, and with no good coating. Forget about it. After 2 or 3 days of trying to force those suckers down, I gave up, and upped my milk consumptin instead.
So, how old am I again? Am I going to have to crush my pills or take all liquid medicine? Do we need to wrap my pills up in a treat like we do for the dog? Geesh.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
IFHIWPUFLIPOW
The letters in the title do stand for something. Only my mind holds the key. I'm sure I will forget what it stands for by tomorrow. Or in a couple of minutes.
I am a snob when it comes to these things in e-mail/chat, etc. I have singled out LOL and any variation of ROTF as incredibly annoying shortcuts. I don't think it's so much because they are shortcuts, but more because of what they stand for.
Laughing Out Loud. Okay, fair enough. And never mind it took me a whole year back in 1998 to figure out what the fuck LOL meant. (I could have asked, but I considered it a challenge to figure it out on my own. I actually thought it was Lots of Laughs for some time).
The problem is, it's overused. Really, how often do people Laugh Out Loud? Not all humor is Laugh Out Loud funny. LOTIBNOL should be used more, probably (Laughing On The Inside But Not Out Loud).
Plus, people are just abusing the hell out of it, LOL. I hate getting up in the mornings, LOL. I started a new workout today, LOL. I had some toast for breakfast, LOL. I may go to the mall tomorrow, LOL. After a while, one starts to ignore the LOLs, just like the boy who cried, "Wolf!", LOL.
Then to add an extra element of madness, we decide to volunteer the fact that we are rolling on the floor, sometimes even laughing our ass off! Really? Is it really that funny? And where did that idea come from? In regular conversation, I'm not sure I've ever said, oh my gawd! I'm rolling on the floor laughing my ass off!
I get that it's supposed to be a visual. You are supposed to visualize the person you are talking to LOLROTFLMAO. Whatever happened to: "You are so funny. You make me laugh". That's about 10 too many letters for the busy folk to type, I suppose.
Strangely enough, I am totally cool with BTW, OMG (in moderation), B/C, and using "4" in place of for(e), such as 4wrd and b4hand. I think it's just because those are just ways to shorten words, not ways to convey to your reader what you are doing. BRBGTP or HTP or whatever it is should be banned (telling people you'll be back b/c you have to pee. TMI! [another one I approve of, although people say "too much information" too much in general. The pregnancy boards were full of them. "ok, tmi, but...". Yes, yes, practically everything to do with pregnancy has to do with the uterus, vagina, and other female body parts. We get it. Now, get on with telling me that you have lots of discharge, just like me, so I can feel better about my medical condition based on the fact that a random stranger posted on a message board]).
Finally, I do have to give 5 stars to the use of smiley faces, even though it is also a way to convey what the typist is doing. It's okay to say I'm smiling. You don't need to know what I'm doing on the floor.
I totally overuse smiley faces, mostly because I'm so sarcastic and jokey, and I want to MAKE SURE that people know I'm KIDDING. I've been burned before, and it is hard to properly convey meaning in the written word. So, :) it is. If I'm really being over the line, then :))))) it is. If I want to flirt AND say I'm kidding, then it's ;). Let's don't leave out when I'm sad. :(
I draw the line at the overuse of emoticons. I find them to be extremely distracting. And too cutesy. :))))
I must confess that I am not always smiling or winking when I type :) or ;), but without a web cam, my reader will never know. :)))))))))))))))) Maybe I should use: :I, B :) OTI. Blank facial expression, But smiling On The Inside.
I am a snob when it comes to these things in e-mail/chat, etc. I have singled out LOL and any variation of ROTF as incredibly annoying shortcuts. I don't think it's so much because they are shortcuts, but more because of what they stand for.
Laughing Out Loud. Okay, fair enough. And never mind it took me a whole year back in 1998 to figure out what the fuck LOL meant. (I could have asked, but I considered it a challenge to figure it out on my own. I actually thought it was Lots of Laughs for some time).
The problem is, it's overused. Really, how often do people Laugh Out Loud? Not all humor is Laugh Out Loud funny. LOTIBNOL should be used more, probably (Laughing On The Inside But Not Out Loud).
Plus, people are just abusing the hell out of it, LOL. I hate getting up in the mornings, LOL. I started a new workout today, LOL. I had some toast for breakfast, LOL. I may go to the mall tomorrow, LOL. After a while, one starts to ignore the LOLs, just like the boy who cried, "Wolf!", LOL.
Then to add an extra element of madness, we decide to volunteer the fact that we are rolling on the floor, sometimes even laughing our ass off! Really? Is it really that funny? And where did that idea come from? In regular conversation, I'm not sure I've ever said, oh my gawd! I'm rolling on the floor laughing my ass off!
I get that it's supposed to be a visual. You are supposed to visualize the person you are talking to LOLROTFLMAO. Whatever happened to: "You are so funny. You make me laugh". That's about 10 too many letters for the busy folk to type, I suppose.
Strangely enough, I am totally cool with BTW, OMG (in moderation), B/C, and using "4" in place of for(e), such as 4wrd and b4hand. I think it's just because those are just ways to shorten words, not ways to convey to your reader what you are doing. BRBGTP or HTP or whatever it is should be banned (telling people you'll be back b/c you have to pee. TMI! [another one I approve of, although people say "too much information" too much in general. The pregnancy boards were full of them. "ok, tmi, but...". Yes, yes, practically everything to do with pregnancy has to do with the uterus, vagina, and other female body parts. We get it. Now, get on with telling me that you have lots of discharge, just like me, so I can feel better about my medical condition based on the fact that a random stranger posted on a message board]).
Finally, I do have to give 5 stars to the use of smiley faces, even though it is also a way to convey what the typist is doing. It's okay to say I'm smiling. You don't need to know what I'm doing on the floor.
I totally overuse smiley faces, mostly because I'm so sarcastic and jokey, and I want to MAKE SURE that people know I'm KIDDING. I've been burned before, and it is hard to properly convey meaning in the written word. So, :) it is. If I'm really being over the line, then :))))) it is. If I want to flirt AND say I'm kidding, then it's ;). Let's don't leave out when I'm sad. :(
I draw the line at the overuse of emoticons. I find them to be extremely distracting. And too cutesy. :))))
I must confess that I am not always smiling or winking when I type :) or ;), but without a web cam, my reader will never know. :)))))))))))))))) Maybe I should use: :I, B :) OTI. Blank facial expression, But smiling On The Inside.
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