I’m hoping if I start off with
something as simple as what I’ve been up to, maybe the words will find me again
and I’ll pay more attention to this corner of the blog world my ghost has
inhabited. I also need to put something else up besides the passing of Sophia.
loving://:
Kh is grocery shopping.. without
me! I’m pretty much over the moon about this. I hate going grocery shopping,
and I just slow her down so I might as well stay home.
The warm weather that’s made it’s
way to us. No more snow and it’s not in the 90’s yet.
The new addition to our family.
More on this later. Ekkkk!
Black maxi dress shopping. I will
find the perfect one.. oh yes, I will! By one, I mean at least 3 for this
summer. It’s my staple. My uniform.. I neeeed them!
not loving so much ://:
I’m pretty bummed that my Saturday is
almost over with. My weekends are going by too fast. I really need to take some
time off, and get away more often. I’m on the fence about how busy my company’s
become in the past two months alone. I had to hire another contractor and have
at least 4 consultations a week now.
How much I still miss Sophia. I still dream about her and imagine I see her out of the corner of my eye. My heart hurts.
Wayward friends only contacting me
when they want advice/help with something, or it’s convenient for them.
The lack of air conditioning in my
car.
hating ://:
Being woken up at 8am by more
construction on the apartment below us. 4 months is long enough, I’m over it.
White pants.
Misogyny.
looking forward to ://:
We’re going to see Hedwig and The
Angry Inch on Broadway in June! I’m so very much looking forward to this. We’re
getting a hotel in Manhattan and spending a few days away from it all. I’m
hoping my hotel room has a bathtub, that will just make it even more amazing.
Finishing my newest tattoo next
Friday.
Let’s hope that will help with my
updating more regularly. I have oh so very much to share.
It's Wednesday. I woke up this morning thinking it was Friday, and I was beyond heartbroken when reality set in. I have 16 days left until we leave for Mexico. I am so ready for this vacation. I'm almost afraid to return from it and have to get back into daily living.
I've been having some fantastic weekends as of late. Lets start with the last weekend in April shall we?
Kh and I took a day trip to a local Zoo. Ok, not so much a day trip as it's literally 10 minutes from our house. It was a pretty sad excuse for a zoo, and I'm still convinced most of the animals were trying to kill themselves.
The flamingo enclosure smelled like fishy poop death, which was heightened by the intense body odor emitting from a few of our fellow onlookers. We got to see a tiny bat almost pee on his own face while hanging upside down, that was pretty funny.
Kh was pretty entertained with the llamas, and the monkeys. I found this pretty awesome wood carving.
I asked Kh to take a picture of me. Kh has this habit of taking a million pictures of me, in every single state of talking. Goofing off, mouthing back at her, and doing my impression of what I usually end up looking like.
I think the bottom left shows off my personality quite well.
After the Zoo we went up to Salem to grab some lunch. We sat outside and soaked up some more sunshine. And drank some beer. Obviously.
This past weekend we wandered around Somerville Open Studios. My friend Janine over at Salvage Love was participating. She has some amazing reclaimed wooden art, refurnished furniture and jewelry. She also had beer and some wine, so that was an added bonus.
Later in the night we went to our favorite restaurant with some friends. We gorged ourselves on yummy food, and our waitress/bartender/owner kept bringing us sample drinks.
Since I'm on the topic of weekends. This coming weekend we're going to be celebrating our two friends graduation from law school. Fancy cocktails and good food. I'll probably even con Kh into going shopping for Mexico attire.
I shaved my legs for my birthday.
That was a pretty big step for me.
For the first time in years I had a
surprisingly good birthday. My best friend came in from NYC and my other bestie was up from Florida.
I got my hair done. We went out to
eat.
I made Kh and my bestie get Friendly's sundaes with me.
We played Cards Against Humanity.
Ate cheese and crackers, and veggies. Drank too much wine, and stayed up to
late. I'm glad I had on waterproof mascara. I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time.
Flat Stanley got to hang out in my boobs and party with the veggies.
I bought myself ankle boots with skulls on them. I'm pretty much in love with them.
I got some amazing gifts. Porcupine quill earrings and a silver shark tooth necklace from Kh, and my bestie got me a necklace with dandelion seeds in it.
Thus far 27 has been interesting. I've had some terrible lows, and some mid-level times. Business is so busy I haven't had a full day off in over a month, which I can't complain about. But I am feeling burnt out, tired. Some days I just want everything to be on mute so I can be alone in my own thoughts. Separate my feelings, compartmentalize everything.
Some days the energy just isn't there.
This is what 27 looks like on me. And one of my new dresses I bought for Mexico. Vacation can't come soon enough.
I don't want to get married. It's my right to choose that, and when/if I decide to get married I should be allowed to marry the most amazing person I've ever had in my life without worrying about what states we have to stay in, or how many countless others are denied this right. I'm thankful I live in a state that recognizes same sex marriage. My rights, the rights of my girl friend, and our equalities shouldn't be an issue up for debate. It fills my heart with such sadness that we're still facing these issues as a nation, and as humans.
Lesbian, gay, bi, trans, or queer, no one should have the right to tell you you are any less than. Stay strong and always be better than.
I shower with the lights off and the door wide open. I sing
and dance when cooking dinner, with four wide eyes staring at me hoping I drop
a piece. I fill my wine glass past the half way mark, and won’t pour more in
until I’ve finished it all. I think it’s bad luck. I can never have my back to
a crowded room; it goes double in a restaurant. I love to laugh but smiling
takes effort. I pretend I’m the invisible woman when grocery shopping and buy
to many boxes of mac and cheese. I like to have sex in the morning and don’t
care if my neighbors hear. I hate wearing jeans but will on occasion, mostly
when I know I don’t have to wear them for longer than 2 hours. I can’t stand people telling me what to
do, and will do the complete opposite to prove that you can’t dictate my life. I
underestimate how big my boobs are every time I try on a new shirt. I could eat
sushi for every meal, and I’m really too sarcastic for my own good. I’m a
natural red head, who bites her nails if she doesn’t have nail polish on them.
I’m obsessed with efficiency but I’m always late.
I am my own woman.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
My birthday is in seven days. It
seems like it’s really speeding towards me this year, palm open and ready to
slap me across the face. Last year I turned 26, and I wasn’t dreading it so
much as I am this year.
It’s not the getting older thing
that bothers me. It’s the odd number thing. 27 just doesn’t have a very nice
sound to it.
“Oh yeah, cool, I’m 27.” Said no one ever.
Pffft.
I’ve never really been one for
celebrating my birthday. It was usually just an occasion for someone to make me
feel terrible, and sink me into a dark depression for at least a week.
As a kid, I used to hide under the
table when everyone would try to sing Happy Birthday to me. Or worse, when
everyone’s attention was drawn to me to unwrap all the gifts. What if I got a
shitty gift? I’d have to hide the shattering of my little child heart and
pretend like I was oh so happy to receive pink fuzzy socks. That hasn’t really
changed in adulthood. I hate opening presents in front of people.
I don’t like being the center of
attention, I’m more of an avid onlooker that sits back and takes it all in.
Forming a good story or silently judging the idiots making fools of themselves.
The only time in my life I started to
really enjoy my birthday was when I started dating Kh. I’ve had 2 birthdays
with her, and each year she makes them pretty great. I get sucked into some
kind of birthday obligation that involves hanging out with friends that make me
feel miserable the day of my birthday, and Kh always plans a “make up
birthday”, the day after. It usually just involves me doing whatever I want and
her supporting me with my decision. If I wanted to lie in bed eating ice cream
cake and watching Harry Potter all day, she’d be there to change DVDs for me.
True love, that shits for real.
I’m hoping this is the one birthday
that afterwards I wake up and feel like an adult on. When I turned 20, I
thought 21 would bring a newfound clarity on adulthood and life. When I turned
25, I thought it would be 26. And so on.
Well. Perhaps this is the birthday when
others start thinking I’m an adult.
While I know it’s not your age that
determines adulthood, I’m still waiting for that “a-ha!” moment. I mean, I’m ok
with going on with life always feeling like I’m 21. I’d say 16 but I need to be
able to legally drink in my own mind, right? And these lines on my face weren't there when I was 16.
And my butt wasn't quite as wide as it is now.
And my boobs weren't nearly this awesome.
I'm sure I'll have more birthday posts this week. For now, shhh.. it's not this close..
One. My birthday to quietly walk across
the stage, bow, and exit without making a big scene. Or hopefully without
flipping me off too.
Two. The sun to stay out past 6pm,
and to peak its bright ass head out for more than one day during the week. Can
I get rid of this seasonal depression already?
Three. Grow hair, grow.
Four. Day trips to eat my favorite
cheese platter. Yes, I’d drive 30 minutes to eat a plate of cheese. Maybe even two plates. Mama loves her cheeseeee.
Five. I’d like to sleep in until at
least 10am one of these days. My month would be complete if I could spend the
rest of that day napping too.
Six. A day off would be amazing. I
haven’t had one yet, so give a girl a break.
Seven. The first season of Once Upon
A Time to get out of my system. You suck, but I can’t get enough of you knowing
there’s always one more I can watch.
Eight. My wine to stop running out.
An every other day run to the liquor store is making me look like I have a
problem.
Nine. My grandma, and mom to send
me my Christmas presents. If they want to save time and send my birthday
presents with them, that’d be great too.
Ten. I want to pet a goat. Maybe
even a pig too. Even if goats can be assholes and pigs feel weird.
I've been drinking too much beer lately, knowing full well I shouldn't. My hair is unruly and creating it's own rules. Winter is eating my soul alive, and I can only sit back and watch it dine. I'm to tired to put on real clothes, I live out of my car and find my personal time only exists in the morning. I'm having a hard time saying no, but desperately need a date night with my Kh. I'm thinking to much, and saying to little. Running on empty but always feeling too full. March is always a strange month for me.
This morning I was driving around a
bit earlier than I usually get started in my days. It was just around the time
when people are starting, or in the middle of their commute into work. People
walking, driving, riding their bikes.
It was a nasty day, with winds
up to 45mph blasting you from the side, slushy snow that hit the streets and
turned to water, and a temperature of 37degrees.
Just warm enough for me to sweat if I moved to much.
I start out all bundled up, I look
in the mirror before I leave the house and make sure my hair is evenly placed
around my face under my hat and I don’t have anything unsightly stuck to my
face from breakfast. My mascara is waterproof, clutching to my eyelashes for
dear life, refusing to let go even in the shower. Just the way I like it.
I look as presentable as I’m going
to get, because I know what’s going to happen 10 minutes out the door. I’m
going to fall the hell apart.
Let me back track to talk about a
couple of people I saw on their commute this morning. They were all bundled up
and braving this nasty day, just like I was, but there was one difference
between us.
The elements had no effect on them.
And I hate them for it.
Ok ok.. harsh..
The gusts of wind seemed to be
working with their long hair, letting it flow behind them in waves with their
hat perched so perfectly on their head. The snow turned to magic dust crystals
when it hit there clothes and left no traces of a wet spot. There eyes were two
bright spots in the middle of their big old faces, ready to take on whatever
the day had in store for them.
Is there some elite secret society for the preservation of your dignity when leaving the house on inclement weathered days? I'd like to subscribe to their newsletter.
When the wind hits me on days like
this, I squint my eyes like I’m sucking on a lemon candy. I have a permanent
scowl on my face like someone is consistently pissing in my cheerios, or like
the world smells of farts. My hair doesn’t flow like waves behind me, but
rather like the matted seaweed stuck in those waves. If you look close enough I
probably even have a sea creature or two lurking in my locks.
The 65% of my hair that’s fake that
frames my face takes on a life of it’s own and completely separates from the
top layer of my real hair, I’ll attribute that to the sea creatures as well. It
looks like I have some odd bowl cut that I missed a few pieces when getting
cut.
I can only be thankful my mascara
is waterproof or else it would be running in streams down my cheeks. My
blotchy, red cheeks.
Inclement weather hates me, and I
hate it right back.
You should see me on 90degree days. I
essentially melt into an old tomato that can’t process heat.
This month will make three years I’ve lived in this
apartment. Three very long years. It’s a never ending adventure.
There’s a swimming pool in my kitchen. It’s about the size
of a puddle, and it comes and goes as it pleases. Its main source of water
comes from my refrigerator. Awesome right?
I have two rooms that function as saunas late at night. One
of said rooms even has an aromatherapy option. The aromatherapy fragrance of
the night is all dependant on the individuals downstairs, but it ranges from
apple body wash, some kind of man body wash like axe, and hot poop.
My bathroom is conveniently just the size for one person. If
keeping your feet on the ground is to much while sitting on my toilet, the wall
is right there for you to prop your feet up on. You can always stand in one
spot when reaching for anything on the shelves, but be careful not to drop
anything. It’ll go right in my toilet. My shower takes up the entire back of my
bathroom, and sorry folks it’s standing room only.
There’s a constant percussion concert coming from my
upstairs neighbors. Some days I think it’s a combination of percussion practice
and a wrestling match. I think I have a very multi-talented family of 5 living
up there.
That gigantic crazy dog barking and scratching at the window
downstairs as you enter and head to the second floor? Oh, don’t mind him.
You’ll get to hear him howl and bark throughout the night. He’s like a guard
dog that sets off a chain reaction, getting all of my dogs riled up and on
guard.
If ever in doubt as to whether or
not you should shut off a light, or if they’ve changed up the laundry schedule,
you can be reassured there will be post-it notes at eye level. Don’t worry,
they won’t fall off. They get taped on.
The free laundry in the basement
gives you the added bonus of trying to overcome any fears you may have stemming
from ghost stories. Lights? Now that’s just silly who needs those. It’s nice
and dark except for right over where the washer and dryer are. The light is just dim enough to see what
you’re doing, but not to read any of the dials or functions. Who really needs
to see what cycle the washer is on anyways?
Last weekend, while a bit relaxing, was void of Kh and of
anything real exciting. I tried to make up for it this weekend.
Friday night Kh, my good friend, his girl friend and myself
went to a local bar/restaurant that we’ve frequented often by now. It’s within
stumbling distance from our house, which makes it the perfect spot to go to
when we want to get.. how do I say it.. trashed.
Kh and I got there a bit early, so we could get a table and
have a drink before they arrived. Friday was my stressful run in with the
crazy, so we were both on edge and full of anxiety. We got dinner, drinks, and
ended up staying there for quite a while. When it was time to leave, we figured
why not go to the bar next door! So naturally, we did.
Fast forward to the bartender calling last call, and
flicking the lights on and off. I look at my phone to see what time it was,
2am. There's something incredibly jarring about the lights going on in a bar when you're drunk, and completely unaware of what time it is.
I can’t tell you the last time I stayed out until last call, or even
closed down a bar. I’m more of a have a few drinks out then finish off by
getting tanked at home kind of girl. I keep it classy and cheap.
(hungover me)
It was really great spending time with both of them, but the
next day I was in rough. Rough. Shape. I had some work to do, and other then
that I spent the entire day sleeping, drinking coconut water, boinking and staring at my
ever-growing wreck of an apartment. Oyyy.
The best part about being hungover is the next day when you
open up your eyes and feel like “Holy shit I could conquer the world! And not
throw up all over!”. You expect to still feel like you’re dying and it’ll never
go away, when bam.
I opened up my eyes, rolled out of bed, grabbed a glass of
water then went back to bed Sunday morning. I figured it was somewhere around
8:30, the usual time we start to wake up. I get into the bedroom and Kh sits
straight up in bed, eyes wide and is all “Do you KNOW what time it is?!” I
stare blankly at her until she says “10:45.”
That put a fire under my ass and I had to rush around to get
ready and out the door. I saw a kittie client, and then we went Tv shopping.
Something Kh has been dying to do forever now.
We got Starbucks first. Their coffee makes me feel like I’m
on crack.
Blah blah blah, Best Buy blah blah Technology. All of which
doesn’t compute with me very well. I stood around while Kh chatted it up with
the tv man. Who had some wicked sick tatties on his forearms. You know, like a
banner over what looked like a gravestone all in gray wash with someone’s name
in it.
While ignoring everything I look up and see the face of this
guy I used to sleep with on 15 different tv monitors surrounding me. I can’t
escape it! Ah! I texted my best friend and it looked something like this.
Kh installed
the tv when we got home, with very little help from me. Do you see the difference? Yeah, I don't either. HA! I know we went from 40" to 46" and now everything I watch looks like it's going to pop out of the screen at me. Size matters.
Later on Sunday night I talked Kh into going to the craft
store. I actually spent less than I’ve ever spent there before. I was in
absolute shock when the girl at the register told me the total. Under $70, and I still walked away with a bag full of random crap.
We did a few more errands and got sushi take out.
Once I stuffed my face we started to finish watching
Sinister. We had tried to watch it Saturday night, but Kh got incredibly quiet
and asked me if I wanted to keep watching it. Which is totally a signal for
“holy fuck this is freaking my shit out can I turn it off?!”
I wasn’t really that impressed by it. It was quite
predictable, all the way down to how the ending was going to play out. A few
scenes were a bit freaky, but nothing I hadn’t seen before. I’m usually more
terrified than I was when there are kids involved in any paranormal psycho
thrill kill kind of movies.
And now it’s Monday. It’s sunny, and I’ve finished my second
cup of coffee, bring it on.
