Is it ironic or not that entomology.com won't tell me why entomology and etymology are so similar? Or why hemophilia doesn't mean blood fetish? I find it's important to know these things because if you have a blood fetish and you just assume you know the word for it, people might transfuse you against your will for paper cuts. Or maybe that's what you want, what with the blood fetish and all. Either way, why do I always accidentally confuse linguistics majors with bug experts?
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Tonight I take a pill
Tonight I take a pill. A pill which will hopefully treat the near-crippling sense of being overwhelmed, the anxiety and fear, the urge to curl up into myself like a dog rolling over onto its back hoping for belly rubs but prepared to be kicked instead. A pill which will hopefully stop my from contemplating suicide once a month, stop me from dreaming of one bedroom apartments and curbside furniture. A pill which may wall in the pendulum of my moods just enough to stop the absolute shit that is a bipolar mood swing. Tonight I take a pill I've needed for a long time.
Damn, I hope it works.
Damn, I hope it works.
Monday, August 27, 2012
On crosses and ribbons
I always question the cross as the chosen symbol of Christianity. In a similar way, the people who've lost someone to breast cancer and cover everything they have in pink ribbons. My mom has lung cancer and out of all of the pictures or symbols I could pick to choose to memorialize her someday, a cancer ribbon is the absolutely last thing I would pick. That would be like losing someone to murder and keeping a framed photo of their killer by your bed.
Of all of the things Jesus did, why is his horrifically gruesome death the thing we want to use in place of him? A fish, not as much as his murder weapon. A manger? Nope, pick the murder weapon. Ooh, a wine glass, for the water to wine miracle! Nahh, go with the murder weapon. A cancer ribbon seems a little too close to a murder weapon for me. I know a family who lost a sister, wife, and mother to breast cancer and those people live inside a pink magic marker. I always feel like, didn't she do anything in her life, have any hobbies or interests, that they could have put on their scrapbook pages and charm bracelets better than her manner of death?
Of all of the things Jesus did, why is his horrifically gruesome death the thing we want to use in place of him? A fish, not as much as his murder weapon. A manger? Nope, pick the murder weapon. Ooh, a wine glass, for the water to wine miracle! Nahh, go with the murder weapon. A cancer ribbon seems a little too close to a murder weapon for me. I know a family who lost a sister, wife, and mother to breast cancer and those people live inside a pink magic marker. I always feel like, didn't she do anything in her life, have any hobbies or interests, that they could have put on their scrapbook pages and charm bracelets better than her manner of death?
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Danny to English dictionary
Buh Wah-zeers = Buzz Lightyear (even though it sounds just like Buck Rogers
Eeya = Olivia
Wozzo = Lotso (as in Lotso Huggin Bear, from Toy Story 3)
Ah Got Deemit = I got it, Danny's (as in I have it so it's mine, even though it sounds like he's saying Oh Goddammit)
Deemit = Danny
Toe-me = Tommy
Toobys = Toby (Astro Boy)
moe-kees = monkeys (always followed by too-loud chimp noises {OOH OOH AHH AHH})
pink-wins = penguins (even though it sounds like pink ones)
don-sore = dinosaur (always followed by RARRR)
chetch = technically he's saying catch, but he means duck. Trust me.
Why-yen = Ryan
Coe-en = Corwen
Ann- Toni = Aunt Toni
Un-coben = Uncle Ben
Eeya = Olivia
Wozzo = Lotso (as in Lotso Huggin Bear, from Toy Story 3)
Ah Got Deemit = I got it, Danny's (as in I have it so it's mine, even though it sounds like he's saying Oh Goddammit)
Deemit = Danny
Toe-me = Tommy
Toobys = Toby (Astro Boy)
moe-kees = monkeys (always followed by too-loud chimp noises {OOH OOH AHH AHH})
pink-wins = penguins (even though it sounds like pink ones)
don-sore = dinosaur (always followed by RARRR)
chetch = technically he's saying catch, but he means duck. Trust me.
Why-yen = Ryan
Coe-en = Corwen
Ann- Toni = Aunt Toni
Un-coben = Uncle Ben
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Names are preposterously changed to protect just about everyone
You know what helps you quit drinking? A hangover, that's what!
My friend was in town, let's call her Rosalee, and she said "Let's go out for drinks!" Now, I had no reason to be scared because she'd said this before and we'd gone uptown to an empty bar and had 2 drinks before going back home to our kids. I swear to you, this is what I expected this time.
So I did my hair (and by "did" I mean I didn't pull it back into a soccer mom ponytail and I put leave-in conditioner in it), dressed up (and by "dressed up" I mean I wore real shoes and my best paisley tee shirt) and we went to the bar. And it was empty, and we had 2 drinks, and we talked. It was nice. Then we went to another bar. This one was less empty, and oddly well-lit (since when are bars well-lit?), and we had 2 more drinks and talked. Then we went to yet another bar. And the more I felt like it was getting late and the bars were getting louder, the more Rosalee seemed to be in her element. And by "element", I mean twenties, even though she is the same age as me. See, I always forget that while I'm a the-mom-from-Home-Improvement mid-thirties, Rosalee is more of a Robin-from-How-I-Met-Your-Mother mid-thirties. And I cannot keep up with her.
At the third bar we ran into so many people. The neighbor kid who just turned 21 was there and of course Rosalee, who'd only been in town a week, knew him and convinced him to stay and hang out. This lady who used to work with my mom at the courthouse until she threw the entire probation office into a drug fueled sex scandal was there (I use no names but trust me, there haven't been all that many drug fueled probation department sex scandals here so it shouldn't be hard for locals to identify her). And some old guy who kept falling off his bar stool, crying, and whose nose ran down into his beard the whole time we were there, was there. (Seriously, this is why bars need to stay dimly lit!)
So then we left the bar, but we went to Rosalee's friend, let's say Umberto's, place. Umberto's place had, and I am not making this up, a laboratory in the kitchen. Not a lab-ruh-tory. A lah-bore-atory. Like mad scientist shit. I don't know what it does but he says it's legal and it involved odd glass jars of colored liquids. It looked nothing like Breaking Bad and it didn't smell, plus I was drunk, so I wasn't worried. I think Umberto may be an alchemist.
So we're sitting at Umberto's place, Rosalee and the neighbor kid and I, and this girl walks in whom I only know because I know her parents socially. Now this may make sense for Robin-from-How-I-Met-Your-Mother types, but I'm a Jill-from-Home-Improvement type and I feel really out of place here. As the night wore on I was feeling older and grayer and fatter by the minute. I may have started out Jill-from-Home-Improvement but by the time we left I felt full-on Doris Roberts.
And then we left. And the neighbor kid drove us to our homes. And I went to bed at 2:30am for the first time in years. And the next morning I woke up to find a text I never recalled sending to my brother on my phone, and a horrible case of the bed spins. And after I laid in bed for an hour, a full hour, before I could sit up, I thought to myself "I am too old for this shit, and (say it with me) I am never drinking again."
And guess what Rosalee texted me. This: "Last night rocked! Hope you had as much fun as I did."
My friend was in town, let's call her Rosalee, and she said "Let's go out for drinks!" Now, I had no reason to be scared because she'd said this before and we'd gone uptown to an empty bar and had 2 drinks before going back home to our kids. I swear to you, this is what I expected this time.
So I did my hair (and by "did" I mean I didn't pull it back into a soccer mom ponytail and I put leave-in conditioner in it), dressed up (and by "dressed up" I mean I wore real shoes and my best paisley tee shirt) and we went to the bar. And it was empty, and we had 2 drinks, and we talked. It was nice. Then we went to another bar. This one was less empty, and oddly well-lit (since when are bars well-lit?), and we had 2 more drinks and talked. Then we went to yet another bar. And the more I felt like it was getting late and the bars were getting louder, the more Rosalee seemed to be in her element. And by "element", I mean twenties, even though she is the same age as me. See, I always forget that while I'm a the-mom-from-Home-Improvement mid-thirties, Rosalee is more of a Robin-from-How-I-Met-Your-Mother mid-thirties. And I cannot keep up with her.
At the third bar we ran into so many people. The neighbor kid who just turned 21 was there and of course Rosalee, who'd only been in town a week, knew him and convinced him to stay and hang out. This lady who used to work with my mom at the courthouse until she threw the entire probation office into a drug fueled sex scandal was there (I use no names but trust me, there haven't been all that many drug fueled probation department sex scandals here so it shouldn't be hard for locals to identify her). And some old guy who kept falling off his bar stool, crying, and whose nose ran down into his beard the whole time we were there, was there. (Seriously, this is why bars need to stay dimly lit!)
So then we left the bar, but we went to Rosalee's friend, let's say Umberto's, place. Umberto's place had, and I am not making this up, a laboratory in the kitchen. Not a lab-ruh-tory. A lah-bore-atory. Like mad scientist shit. I don't know what it does but he says it's legal and it involved odd glass jars of colored liquids. It looked nothing like Breaking Bad and it didn't smell, plus I was drunk, so I wasn't worried. I think Umberto may be an alchemist.
So we're sitting at Umberto's place, Rosalee and the neighbor kid and I, and this girl walks in whom I only know because I know her parents socially. Now this may make sense for Robin-from-How-I-Met-Your-Mother types, but I'm a Jill-from-Home-Improvement type and I feel really out of place here. As the night wore on I was feeling older and grayer and fatter by the minute. I may have started out Jill-from-Home-Improvement but by the time we left I felt full-on Doris Roberts.
And then we left. And the neighbor kid drove us to our homes. And I went to bed at 2:30am for the first time in years. And the next morning I woke up to find a text I never recalled sending to my brother on my phone, and a horrible case of the bed spins. And after I laid in bed for an hour, a full hour, before I could sit up, I thought to myself "I am too old for this shit, and (say it with me) I am never drinking again."
And guess what Rosalee texted me. This: "Last night rocked! Hope you had as much fun as I did."
 |
| As the night started. |
 |
| As the night wore on. Minus Shooter McGavin with the gun there. |
Just past uncomfortable
When your kids decide that your hemmorhoid doughnut is their swim toy and they yank it out from under your butt because "Mo-om, you'll pop it!" Yeah, that's a painful moment I'll laugh at someday. But not today.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
To-may-to, to-mah-to
Saturday, August 11, 2012
cheap date
Tonight Tom drank exactly one beer after supper, became completely drunk from it, told me in front of my mother that I might get lucky, and is now passed out in front of the TV. Next time you think of a truck driver and stereotype them as big manly men, remember my husband snoring in front of Superman IV because he drank one Coors Light.
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
In all honesty, it probably was biss-gussing
I walk by the bathroom and can hear Tom and Tommy in the shower. The conversation goes something like this:
Tommy: Ewww, thas biss-gussing!
Tom: What?
Tommy: You peeing on me! Stop it.
Tom: I'm not peeing on you! I'm not peeing at all!
Tommy: I can see you weiner peeing on me. Make it stop!
Tom: That's water running off of me!
Me: Facebook!
Tom: Don't you dare!
Tommy: Ewww, thas biss-gussing!
Tom: What?
Tommy: You peeing on me! Stop it.
Tom: I'm not peeing on you! I'm not peeing at all!
Tommy: I can see you weiner peeing on me. Make it stop!
Tom: That's water running off of me!
Me: Facebook!
Tom: Don't you dare!
Monday, August 06, 2012
It's a seasonal thing
I like winter. I start jonesing for it in the summer. I used to live in a tiny apartment with no heat from any vents except one that was just a hole in the floor to the apartment a floor below (I could look through the floor grate in my bathroom and see people walking under me. I felt bad when I pooped stinky but not too bad because they had sex loudly.) and one that ran through the wall behind my kitchen counter. I always had warm silverware in the winter. But even in the apartment where winter sucked, I would lay on my couch and look out the window and all I could see was sky. I f I didn't look downward at all there were no trees in my line of sight and I just saw the sky and I could convince myself, just for a moment, that the brightness was reflected off of snow and it was winter. I love winter.
I love Xmas, even thought I'm not too terribly Christian and I throw general Hanukkah things in there too since I think it would be disrespectful to bastardize one religion over another. But I love the tree and the smell of pine, and the bright wrapping paper and candles.
It's 80+` here and I'm dreaming about winter. Snow and long underwear and footie pajamas and hot cocoa (if you click the title it links to a hot cocoa recipe) and hot cider with a cinnamon stick in it. Back when I was dirt poor and lived in the cold apartment (My aunt loaned me several space heaters so I was okay; I learned years later that the landlord had shut all the ducts to the upstairs at a point when the apartment was unrented and once they were opened it was warm and toasty. That sucked.) I used to spend about $5 a week on Christmas shopping so I started the first week in August. I still feel like I'm behind on my shopping if the county fair comes and I don't have any gifts bought.
I love winter. I hope it hits with a vengeance this year. I want snow days and blizzards and white-outs and all of it.
I love Xmas, even thought I'm not too terribly Christian and I throw general Hanukkah things in there too since I think it would be disrespectful to bastardize one religion over another. But I love the tree and the smell of pine, and the bright wrapping paper and candles.
It's 80+` here and I'm dreaming about winter. Snow and long underwear and footie pajamas and hot cocoa (if you click the title it links to a hot cocoa recipe) and hot cider with a cinnamon stick in it. Back when I was dirt poor and lived in the cold apartment (My aunt loaned me several space heaters so I was okay; I learned years later that the landlord had shut all the ducts to the upstairs at a point when the apartment was unrented and once they were opened it was warm and toasty. That sucked.) I used to spend about $5 a week on Christmas shopping so I started the first week in August. I still feel like I'm behind on my shopping if the county fair comes and I don't have any gifts bought.
I love winter. I hope it hits with a vengeance this year. I want snow days and blizzards and white-outs and all of it.
Sunday, August 05, 2012
Mmmmmmm, self-medicationnnnn
I drink. I drink and I like to drink. I like a cold beer or two after a stressful day, I like the occasional drink at the bar, talking over the jukebox and laughing with friends. I like a quiet drink after the kids are in bed or an absent-minded drink while cooking dinner. And a big part of it is self-medicating, I know. The Manic part of my manic depression isn't the euphoric high most people get; mine is a horrible anxiety where I feel overwhelmed and stressed about any little thing. Not anxiety like that I can't leave the house or I panic in crowds. More like the feeling that I'm forgetting something really important and I can't keep a solid train of thought. And if I have a drink or two, the anxiety goes away. I could take a Xanax but those make me so sleepy and they last for hours and hours and a beer just takes the edge off and only lasts for about an hour. The problem is that I don't like having to drink. I don't like drinking nightly and I don't like glancing at the clock to see if it's too early to drink and I don't like running out of milk and not being able to run to the store for more because I've had a drink. So I stopped drinking. Not a 12 step program sort of thing; I wasn't that bad. My issue has never been that I can't stop drinking. My issue is just that if there's beer here, I'll drink it. If there's a six pack, I will drink every night until it's gone. Same with a case. So I just stopped buying it and stopped drinking it and all was fine. And then Tom bought a 12 pack and now it is in the fridge. It was there yesterday and I didn't drink any. And it is there tonight and I'm not drinking any. And it's not like it's hard not to drink it; more like it's a habit to go grab one and I'm having to remind myself not to.
I don't know why I'm blogging this. Reading it makes it sound like I have an alcohol problem, and I don't. I just have a tendency to drink more than most people and I recognize that it could become a problem. I just really can't wait until I get some maintenance meds at the end of the month and don't have to resist the urge to self-medicate anymore. Because as nice as it tastes, 12 cups of Sleepytime tea a day aren't cutting it as well as some honest to God pharmaceuticals would.
I don't know why I'm blogging this. Reading it makes it sound like I have an alcohol problem, and I don't. I just have a tendency to drink more than most people and I recognize that it could become a problem. I just really can't wait until I get some maintenance meds at the end of the month and don't have to resist the urge to self-medicate anymore. Because as nice as it tastes, 12 cups of Sleepytime tea a day aren't cutting it as well as some honest to God pharmaceuticals would.
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