Friday, September 29, 2006
Still leading up to a love story, aka CeCe's slut story, aka, how CeCe met Armondo, (Series Part II)
Before I continue on, I figured it might be a good idea to clarify something. The first post, and part of this post explain what had happened during the course of a summer. I am, however, counting all the months off from school as "summer" which means, I'm counting May through Sept as "summer", so if it seems like my timing is off as you're reading, then that's why. Also, in the upcoming post, I know I'll have some of the timing of details off a bit, but I'm fine with that! Everything all basically happened that summer and the following Autumn!
So, after I gave my notice a the pharmacy, I started right away looking for another job. I wanted to find a restaurant job this time, in hopes to make a bit more money. I didn't have any serving experience at this point, but I had bussed at a pretty fancy restaurant in my previous town, and that particular job gave quite the ass busting! (And, a good reference.)
My on and off boyfriend at the time really didn't want me to get a job at a restaurant, saying "If you get a job at a restaurant, you'll find some cook to fall for!" I didn't quite get it, and he responded saying "Well, it happened last time!"
When I was working at the fancy restaurant bussing, I had met this cook there. His real name is actually the same as Armondo's real name, but we'll just call him "Jimbo" (just like "Armondo" is a play on my husband's middle name, "Jimbo" is a play on this guy's middle name too.) When Jimbo and I first started to get together, we kept it a secret so that our bosses wouldn't get upset. We were basically just "friends with benefits" at first, but it wasn't long before I fell for him. We had started off so casual though, that it was hard to figure out exactly how to define our relationship during the two years we were together. Part of the problem was also that he's the lead singer in a band, and during our time together, he was having a lot of fun playing the "rock star". We were not a good match for each other, and often brought out the worst in each other, but for some reason, we couldn't stay apart for long periods of time.
Being that I was vehicle-less, Jimbo actually had to help me out by driving me around town to drop resumes off at the different restaurants. I got hired at an Western/Asian fusion restaurant. For the first couple of weeks, on nights when I got off too late to take the bus home, I would go to Jimbo's house which was nearby, and I would hang out with him and his room mate. In the meantime, I was looking to buy a scooter, and found one a few weeks into the job.
During these first few weeks of the job, Jimbo and I were mostly "off", but we were still pretty good friends. But because we were "off", his room mate started to move in on me. He had sat back and watched all the nasty things Jimbo was doing behind my back for the past two years (like having girls come over and sleep in his bed with him overnight, lying to me about where he was some nights, etc.) and had started to feel sorry for me, and in my estimation had somehow fallen in love with me as well. We'll just call this guy "room mate" or RM for short, 'cause I just can't come up with a clever name for him. RM and I started to watch series of horror films together. It has started at Jimbo and RM's place, but because Jimbo hated horror movies, we started to take the movies to my place instead. We watched all the "Friday the 13th" series and the "Nightmare on Elm Street" movies and were starting to go through most of Stephen King's movies. We had spent several evenings alone together by this time, and he and I were vverrrry slowly starting to sit closer to each other, then cuddle, and eventually, by the time we got to the Stephen King series, we had s3x on my couch. It was hard to refuse this guy, because he had listened to every complaint I had about Jimbo, and knew just how to press the right buttons with me. Jimbo didn't ever touch my hair, so RM would touch my hair. Jimbo never told me I was beautiful (though he DID tell me I was hot, but it's not the same), so RM told me I was beautiful. Jimbo hated holding hands, never cuddled, and couldn't stand horror movies, so RM filled all these voids for me. Jimbo was pretty good in bed, but there wasn't a lot of passion, RM, however, was quite passionate.
Like I said, Jimbo and I were "off" at this time, but both RM and I felt pretty bad about sleeping together. And really, I hadn't completely gotten over Jimbo, and figured that someday, he and I would get back together and actually be able to have a real relationship. (I wasn't totally aware at this point what he had been doing behind my back.) Anyway, I had basically just started working at this restaurant, and I hadn't been there long enough to actually start asking for weekends off, so when one of our friends was having his 30th birthday party bash at a cabin on a nearby island, I couldn't get the time off to go. RM didn't take the time off work either. So, out of ALL of our friends, the two of us were the only ones who stayed home that weekend. So I spent the night at his house (which, in case you're not following along, was also Jimbo's place.) I wore some nice lingerie for him (which he really appreciated, but Jimbo NEVER did) and we had a nice night together. Somewhat early in the morning, I packed up my stuff to leave and as I was headed out the door, Jimbo came home. We made small talk before I left, but I could see the hurt in his eyes when he saw me leaving after obviously sleeping with his room mate.
During the following days, some details and photos from the party started making their rounds. It turns out that Jimbo had spent the night with another girl. The two of us had already discussed RM's and my rendevous, but he hadn't mentioned anything about this girl. When I confronted him with it, he swore up and down that he hadn't had sex with her, but that they had just cuddled a bit and he had played with her hair! *insert record scratching sound here* WHAT?!? Sex wasn't really an issue with the two of us. There was plenty of sex to go around, it was just that he was never affectionate, never cuddly, and it was for these specific reasons that we had broken up so many times before. That past weekend, he had given this other girl what I had been longing for for years from him!
And then, for some reason, we got back together. It was mid August by this time.
Meanwhile, I had got my scooter and was able to get around town and get myself to work. But not before I had to bum a ride off of one of the Sushi Chefs there a couple of times. He lived in my neighbourhood basically (though he was in the middle of moving), and although he didn't really seem to like giving one of the other cooks rides home, he didn't have much problem driving me home those couple of times. In walks Armondo into my life.
At first, there was not much of an attraction on my part. He had this nasty old beater of a car, and he smoked. The car stunk, and really, so did he. If he didn't smell like fish in his sushi jacket, then he smelled like an ashtray in his casual jacket. But he was a nice enough guy, and we got along alright.
Shortly after Jimbo and I got back together, my uncle came to my area to go to a biker rally, and he invited and paid for me to go. Jimbo was welcome to come with, but didn't want to take the weekend off work. Most of my uncle's friends who were there were paired off and everyone was having s3x in the tents around me, so on the second night, my uncle's one single friend and I hooked up. It was sort of fun. I felt young and sexy and alive, and I felt like I had basically seduced this older, shy man. I've never seen this guy since, which is probably best, though I do get the odd update from my uncle here and there.
When I got home, I admitted to Jimbo what I had done, and although he was crying and hurt, he didn't want us to break up again. That was very confusing to me, but somehow, after hurting him and doing to him what I sort of knew he had done to me, and after knowing that I didn't NEED him, that I was perfectly sexy and capable without him, I decided that we really did need to break up. We were in a class together at school, and we still had sex a couple of times after that, so we didn't totally break it off right away. Old habits die hard.
Then, there was the birthday boy. A few days after ending things with Jimbo, a younger, male friend of mine and I were chatting online. Somehow, we sort of started to flirt, and he admitted to me that he hadn't had sex since he was 15, and that the girl he had just broken up with had not slept with him nor given him so much as a blow job in THREE YEARS.
And then he told me that "Every year, I say to myself that I WILL get laid before my next birthday, and here we are, tomorrow's my birthday, and again, I haven't got laid!"
So, without much more discussion, he came over to my place at 3 in the morning, picked me up, took me back to his place and we had s3x. Happy Birthday, kiddo! Then, before 6 am, I was back at my house and going to sleep.
This is where my timing gets a little messed, but I'll just make it up as I go...
By this time, we're getting into mid October, I think? Armondo and I were getting along a bit better at work, and one night I tried to get a bunch of co-workers to go out with my friend "Patty" and I. Armondo was the only one who agreed, and he met us downtown. It was just a few days after the incident with "Birthday Boy". I was on my scooter, and for some reason, I agreed to letting Armondo drive it for a bit with Patty on the back. I think he almost got them hit by a car! Anyway, after hanging out that night, it was still sort of early (early for us folks who worked at a restaurant, but VERY late by my standards these days!) and I asked Armondo if he still wanted to hang out. He did, and we rented a movie and went to go watch it at his house. It was my first time at his place, and although his female room mate wasn't home, I got to see much more of her than I wanted to! She was an art student at the time, and in their dining room was several 3x4 foot nude self portraits. And the photos she was painting from.
Armondo and I had a nice evening together, and after the movie, I went home. I was still sleeping with Jimbo here and there, and actually slept with him again before the next time Armondo and I hung out. The second time Armondo and I spent some time at his house, we ended up getting a little bit of cuddling in, but nothing more. At the end of the evening, I had decided that I did, indeed like him, smoking and all, and when he told me that he had enjoyed hanging out with me and "would like to hang out with (me) again, like a lot, exclusively" or something like that, I responded with "Ok, give me a few days, I need to sort a few things out."
That's when I completely ended things with Jimbo, told RM that things weren't ever going to go any further with us, (it helped that he had moved away during this time) and I decided to focus on Armondo.
Jimbo was right. I had got a job in a restaurant, met a cook and fell for him. Funny too, that this cook also had the same first name, and was also the lead singer in a band too. But Armondo was nothing like Jimbo in most other ways. Although it took me longer than Armondo's room mate to figure it out, it wasn't too long before I knew that Armondo was actually quite the guy and that he and I had something special.
(And in case you care, Jimbo ended up dating the girl from that party for awhile before moving on and finding a totally awesome chick who totally compliments him and really brings out the best in him. And, last I heard, RM was engaged to one of Jimbo's old exes, and the two of them are totally in love, and apparently perfect for each other.)
Please take the time to send good thoughts and prayers to her.
If you want, go leave her a comment at Ninja Poodles, or find the link to her email and send her a note.
She's a good woman, and has been through a lot lately. She deserves a speedy recovery.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Facts About Urine
- Adults pass about 1½ quarts of urine each day, depending on the fluids and food consumed.
- The volume of urine created at night is about half that formed in the daytime.
- Normal urine is sterile. It contains fluids, salts, and waste products. But it is free of bacteria, viruses, and fungi.
- The tissues of the bladder are isolated from urine and toxic substances by a coating that discourages bacteria from attaching and growing on the bladder wall.
I would say that if you completed Biology 12, or if you've watched the movie "Dodge Ball" you would have already known that urine is completely safe to drink though.
Peter La Fleur: [after Patches hits Justin in the face with a wrench] Yeah, uh, Patches... are you sure that this is completely necessary?
Patches O'Houlihan: Necessary? Is it necessary for me to drink my own urine?
Peter La Fleur: Probably not.
Patches O'Houlihan: No, but I do it anyway because it's sterile and I like the taste.
Peter La Fleur: ...Okay.
But, like I said, Cherry had a blast. The lifeguards all thought she was crazy and fearless, as she would walk to depths up to her chin and then dunk herself. I was always right there beside her, and would pull her back up, and every time, she'd have a huge smile plastered on her face, and she'd clap to congratulate herself. The lifeguards got quite the kick out of it. Funny how she won't dunk herself in the bath though!
~Speaking of baths...The caulking around our tub needs to be replaced and I haven't really had the chance to do it yet (and I'm not sure I want to, due to the fumes, and the fact that I have to bend over for a length of time, and my belly gets in the way), so I've had to either take baths or do this sort of squat shower thing with the hand-held shower head. Since both of these ways of getting clean take a little more time than I like, I'm only bathing every other day right now. And last night I decided to have a nice, deep, relaxing bath. Now, I generally don't really like baths, I sort of feel like I'm just sitting there in my own soup. So, in general, I have about one bath a year, and it's always followed by a full shower afterwards. (I don't mind the pool tough. Apparently sitting in soup with several other people is ok for me. Chlorine is my friend.) So, needless to say, it's sort of a big deal for me to actually pour a deep bath and for me to plan a long soak.
So, last night, I got undressed, slipped into the tub, and before I could fully lay down, Cherry woke up.
UGH. I waited my usual couple of minutes to see if she would fall back to sleep on her own, but nope. This wasn't a test. So, up I got, out of the tub and dealt with her.
After I got her diaper changed and found her soother for her again, I went back to the tub, poured more hot water, and slinked back in. It was nice. Ozzy was pretty cute, keeping me company, walking back and forth along the tub edge, and trying to figure out a way to jump in without getting wet. (She never did figure out a way, and just paced and purred the whole time.)
But the coolest thing about taking a bath in your third trimester (and the reason why I'm even telling you about my bath) is that if you're quiet enough, and stick your ears underwater, you can hear your baby's heart beat. It's true! I did it once when I was pregnant with Cherry and thought it was the coolest thing ever, and I was just as excited to hear the heart beat of this little one. Sometimes it's tough to differentiate between my own heart beat and the baby's so, I have to take my pulse at the same time so that I can know which heart beat to tune out. It's sort of a neat sort of "bonding" moment.
~Still on the topic of baths.... Cherry has taken to drinking her bath water. And, due to how I feel about bath water, this totally grosses me out. Esp. since I've seen her pee in the bath water on many occasions. But it's sort of hard to stop her. She has these stacking cup things that she loves to drink out of, and she'll get on her belly and just drink straight from the tub as well. She loves it and, it won't kill her, so even though it makes me squirm and gag, I let her do it. *ick*
~I think it's a boy. Yeah, the heartburn is incredibly bad this time around, and although, it might have to do with the fact that I'm cooking for myself, instead of eating gourmet Armondo meals, I have a feeling it's because it's a boy.
And that's all for tonight, folks.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
When I was 16 years old, I gave birth to my first child. Three months later she died due to complications pertaining to my drug use.The story you just read was 100% true, but some details have been changed. Margaret is actually me, and the mother in the story is my mother.
When I was 20, I married and got pregnant on the honeymoon. I had not told my husband that I had stopped taking birth control. My daughter Margaret was born two months after my 21st birthday.
My husband worked in the mines up north, and sometimes I'd follow him with the baby and live in those tiny little camps. Other times, I'd stay closer to civilization and he'd send the money down to us.
I hated being left alone, and would often waste all the money on partying and such.
The marriage ended before Margaret was a year old.
But this story is mostly about my relationship with my daughter. She was a darlin' little thing, looked just like me! I liked to dress her and myself up in matching bikinis and take her to the beach. She was the perfect fashion accessory.
But, I have to admit, sometimes being a single mother would get boring. I was a social butterfly and I wasn't going to let a small child get in the way of life.
Most of the time, I'd just take her along to the parties. She got along great with my biker friends, and would party until the wee hours with us! She was quite the little dancer.
Other times, I'd bring the party to my house.
Partying all the time wore me out though, and I often didn't roll out of bed until past noon. Margaret was pretty self sufficient though. At two, she knew the cul-de-sac like the back of her hand. She would just go outside by herself and find kids to play with. I was so impressed the time she was out playing by herself and got stung by a bee or wasp, and she didn't even really cry! That's my big girl.
She was so used to being on her own in the mornings that she even fed herself breakfast. She would climb on the counter and reach the cereal out of the high cupboard. Sometimes she would have milk with it, but usually she'd just eat it dry. One day she ate a WHOLE box of fruit loops! She would also get herself her own drink in the morning. I think she was three or four that day when I surprised her by actually being up in the morning. She had been looking for a cup for her juice, and was randomly pulling dirty mugs off of the counter in order to find one that was relatively clean. I just didn't have time to do the dishes most of the time! Anyway, she accidently pulled my full coffee cup off of the counter and burned and blistered her hand. She felt so bad for being naughty, and ran outside to cry. I found her outside, and although I was sort of angry, I didn't yell at her, and we went inside and dealt with her hand.
It was during this same time period that I was with my boyfriend Bill. He lived with us and was much more strict with the little one than I was. Whenever Marg was bad, he's whip down her pants, throw her over his knee and give her a few good whollops on the butt. He often left her so sore she couldn't sit properly or sleep on her back. The crying would exhaust her though and she'd be able to fall asleep. Bill had quite the temper. It was scary the time he got mad at me and broke his hand when he punched through the window by the front door. But I kept him around for awhile anyway.
I liked to do fun things with Bill and Marg, and one time we took her to the Disney On Ice capades. We couldn't afford the ticket price though, so we snuck through the back door.
When she was four, Bill tried to teach Margaret how to ride her two wheeler, but after one frustrating day, she told him she didn't want him to teach her, and she taught herself. Once she learned to ride that bike by herself, there wasn't much stopping her. She would take that bike everywhere. She would go visit other kids in the subdivision, and would often stay out until just before dark, when I would call her in. She would tell me of her adventures in the pond, the nearby woods, and going down to the corner store on the highway with her little buddies.
It was around this same time that I got her a kitten. Margaret was bad though, and let her out and she never came back. We never had another pet after that.
In general, Margaret was pretty easy going. There were a couple of times she got very upset with me though. I couldn't find a babysitter one night, so I took her to the bar with me and left her in the locked car. I told her to keep the doors locked and to not talk to any strangers. Several hours later, I returned to the car, and she was PISSED! I told her there was a long line up at the bar and that I was just applying for a job, but for some reason, she didn't seem to buy it. The other time she was angry with me was when I left her at a friend's house for a weekend, but got distracted and didn't return for two weeks. I don't know why she was angry with me! I mean, I left her with a family with kids to play with!
Sometimes, I would take her to my best friend's house. She had a little boy who was half a year older than Marg. They were both around 4-5. My friend and I would do lines of coke at the kitchen table while the kids danced in front of the music station on TV. It was the eighties, what can I say? Sometimes the kids would go into the boy's room where I'm sure they were playing "doctor" or something. How cute. Young kids exploring!
When Margaret was just a little over five years old, I took her to stay for a little while at my mother's house while I took a trip with my then boyfriend to the next province. While there, I got jailed for credit card fraud. I forgot to call my mother to tell her what happened, and by the time I returned, months later, my daughter had been taken away from me and was living with her father in a town hours away.
I was able to keep in touch with her on and off for a couple of years before her new family cut me off for good. When she was 18, she had started looking for me, but I didn't find out until she was 19. After we found each other, we visited a handful of times and I tried to develop a relationship with her, but it was too hard. I stopped talking to her when she was six months pregnant and I have no idea what she's up to these days. I don't know if I will ever try to contact her again, I think it's better to just live my life and not bother her with the details. She turned out just fine, I don't need her to know what a loser I've become.
If ONE more person who doesn't know me personally or who isn't a health or child professional tells me that I'm a bad mother, without knowing the full story, I will fuc#ing lose it.
Monday, September 25, 2006
First of all, thank you very much for your concern over my daughter's welfare. It's good to know that complete strangers care about the well being of our children. You both have made me think very hard about what happened in the video, and I've come up with a new mind set on a few things.
I have thought long and hard and have come to a few conclusions:
1) You're absolutely right: It was very dangerous and irresponsible to let my daughter climb up on that small rocking horse and fling herself into a playpen full of blankets. I mean, even with those blankets in there, you can clearly see that this was a VERY dangerous situation. Even though she did it completely on own, with no prompting from me, I really should have stopped her.
2) I'm scrapping my idea of giving Cherry a tricycle for Christmas. It's just too dangerous. She could get hurt. Even with a helmet, it's just not worth the risk.
3) A bicycle for her third birthday is out of the question too. Knee pads? Helmet? Just not good enough. Kids get hurt riding their bikes all the time!
4) Oh, and I'm totally going to forget about taking her to the pool anymore to swim. I mean, I could just turn my back for a second and she could drown!
5) The playground is a total no-no now too. I mean, she's just too fast for me sometimes, and she could fall from the top of the slide and seriously injure herself.
6) Skiing and/or snowboarding at three years old? Nuh uh! WAY too dangerous! This is something that I always thought I'd love to do with my kids, but really, why risk it?
7)Oh, and don't even think that I'm going to let my kids get their licenses when they're 16! Motor Vehicle accidents are just way too common to risk it. In fact, I don't think I can even live with myself if I get into the car with my kids at ALL anymore! I guess we'll just walk everywhere now. Oh crap! Pedestrians get hit by cars too! Good thing the local grocery store delivers, I don't even have to leave the house anymore!
8) And God forbid, if I *do* change my mind and let my kids do any of these activities, I'd better not video tape them! 'Cause really, that's where the true evil in this whole debate lies, right?
Oops, sorry, got to go now. I just HAVE to figure out a way to strap that kid down to the couch in front of the TV so that she can't get into trouble. Oh, wait, watching too much TV causes ADHD, right? I'm screwed!
I've been spending the last few days dealing with:
~Running around trying to get the house clean enough to have my grandparents over.
~Cherry with a snotty nose.
~Cherry with a diaper rash so bad she has blisters and cries at every diaper change.
~Cherry waking up crying at 3am until 6am due to above ailments.
~My grandmother coming over to visit even though I called her and asked her to not visit because we were exhausted and feeling horrible.
~Ignoring my grandmother when she says "Well, that's what happens when you're a mother" after I explain to my grandfather about the lack of sleep and horrible-ness that's going on.
~KILLER heartburn I've had for days now.
But good things:
~Friday night we had fun at my friend's birthday party, where there were quite a few other kids that Cherry could play with. We eventually left because *I* was too tired from chasing her around. I believe this is where she got the runny nose from. *Stupid evil kids with germs.. grr*
~Last night my buddy LB came over and we made dinner together and had a nice visit. I don't get to see her as much as I would like.
~I've found a bunch of playgroups and activities I can do with Cherry, but I have to change her nap schedule.
Now, to come: Bathing the poodle, and going through a box of junk that my grandmother brought over that's from some sort of "family friend". oh joy.. more stuff to send to the Sally Anne.
Friday, September 22, 2006
It's the emotional overdrive. TV is a tearful hell for me. Getting my kid her shots is a blubber fest. Seeing signs on the street for a family pic nic is a total tear jerker.
I can't try on clothes without tearing up, I can't watch trailers for movies that I probably won't ever watch without getting a lump in my throat. You tube videos of kittens falling asleep? I'm a mess.
Please, my dear readers and friends, PLEASE, if I EVER talk about wanting to get pregnant again, PLEASE remind me. I so don't want to be this crazy again!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Apparently, I'm still a bad mother. Even though I stopped giving my kid a bottle to go to sleep with, I'm still risking rotting the teeth out of my child's head.
Among other "activities (that) will help (me) play (my) part in (my) child's growth and development", these few tell me I'm a bad mother: (As said by my child's point of view?)
1) When I drink 2 cups of pastuerized homo cow's milk daily, you can stop giving me Vitamin D.
2) I need the calcium in milk at meal times and only water between meals and at night to help prevent cavities!
3) If I drink from a bottle, please give me a cup now.
Addressing these issues:
1) Um? Two cups of milk a day? Oh... you mean the four-five cups you're already drinking might be too much? Whoops! And Vitamin D? Was I supposed to be giving you Vitamin D? Oh, I think I might remember something about that... whoops!
2) Just at meal times? Oh, ok, so apparently your teeth are going to rot and fall out of your head because not only do I let you drink your milk between meals, but I also give you juice! *gasp* AND, I make sure you drink a full bottle of milk before bed so that you don't wake up hungry in the middle of the night! (Yes, I'm brushing her teeth afterwards.)
3) Ok, so we've tried this one... And Darlin' you just won't give in! Sippy cups for juice and water, bottles for milk. You've made this abundantly clear to me. I tried again tonight, and you fussed and moaned, and would NOT drink your milk until I put it in a bottle! I'm blaming YOU for this one if your teeth rot!
And there you have it. Every time I see an "expert" about anything, I find out that I'm such a bad mother. They tell you there's no manual on how to raise children, yet I keep on getting told I'm doing it wrong! What's a mother to do?
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Is there anything YOU want to know?
Also, don't forget about the baby contest (clicky on the sidebar)
And, I don't know if you've noticed but I added a "best of" list on the sidebar too, and if you can think of a favourite post of mine that you think should go on that list, then please, be sure to tell me.
Thanks! See ya soon!
I did, however get the job from the second interview that week, and I started soon after working till at the pharmacy in the mall. I already had experience working at this particular chain of pharmacy, so I was a shoe in for THIS job. (Get it? Shoe in? 'Cause I wasn't a SHOE in for the other job!! Ha ha? No? Ok, moving on..)
But this job sucked. It wasn't as good as the other pharmacy I had worked in. The store was dirty, and hadn't upgraded to the newer, more stylish layout that the other ones had. They still sold cigarettes, whereas most of this chain had stopped. It was at one of the crumiest malls in a town full of malls, and the customers stunk. Literally. To put it bluntly, the mall is in the middle of welfare district.
Let me tell you about the customers. Most of them came into the store to buy cigarettes and lotto tickets. In BC, we have this one lotto game called KENO, which runs every five minutes. The customer would pick their numbers then have 5-10 minutes to wait to see if their numbers won anything. Which, for most customers meant that they had just enough time to go outside and have a cigarette. Or, they could have a coffee at the doughnut shop across the hall. For others, it meant that they stood in front of the till and stared up at the numbers while we tried to work. And they'd make chit chat with us. Glorious chit chat.
There was this one guy. I have no clue what his name is. Let's just call him.. Billy Bob. Billy Bob was probably in his thirties or forties. He had stringy, shoulder length blonde hair and sometimes sported a scruffy beard. His t-shirts were often stained and ripped, and his blue jeans were often cut off into shorts, sometimes with the pockets hanging out beneath the cuts. Sometimes he wore his teeth when he was at the mall. Other times, he forgot them at home, and had a four tooth gap along the top.
He was a bit of a stalkier fellow, not fat at all, and was probably a strong guy, but by no sense of the word, was he attractive. He was one of the customers who played Keno. And smoked. And sometimes chatted with us. And hung out at the doughnut shop too. His average day was spent hanging out at this mall, often for my full eight hour shift.
I didn't always work the till. Sometimes, at slow times, I would face the shelves and stock. One day, while I was facing, Billy Bob came in to play his Keno. I was sort of close to the front of the store, so while he was standing there, I was pretty close to him and we chatted a bit. He asked me what my name was (at the time I knew his) and I sort of looked at him funny and said "I wear a name tag every day, see?" And I pulled it up and away from my chest so he could get a better look. "Corrine?" He said, after taking a hard look at the tag. "Um, no, it's C3lena." I replied. "Oh," he said. "That's a nice name. I don't read too good, so I couldn't quite make that out."
"Poor guy!" I thought to myself. After he left, I looked up the number for the local literacy group and wrote it down to hand to him when he returned.
When he did return, he sort of surprised me by asking me out. "Would you like to go to dinner and a movie with me some time?"
"Um," I stammered. "I actually have a boyfriend, but, thanks!" I lied. (Sort of, I was at the end of this two year on-off thing with a guy). And I noticed that he had forgotten to put his teeth in that day.
He looked a little embarrassed, but he was polite, and I was polite as well, and we carried on with what we were doing.
Later that day, I handed him the number for the literacy group. The other cashiers thought I was crazy, and thought I was just encouraging him. But I had a mission. Regardless of the fact that he was old, and slimey, and toothless, and had the nerve to ask me out on a day when he FORGOT HIS TEETH, he was a nice guy, and he was missing out on a whole world of great books out there!
He refused to take the number, saying that he didn't need to learn how to read, and I was crushed. For about 10 minutes. I still had a plan. The next day, I went to Value Village and bought a Stephen King book with four Novellas in it, and I gave it to him. "Here, I bought this for you. I really got into reading when I was twelve, and this was the author that got me hooked." He took the book from me and in a week had read 40 pages.
In the meantime, my job sucked. My manager was quite the witch. She had a daughter the same age as me, and seemed to think that she could treat me like a kid. Sure, granted, I was still a kid, but I had been working at various jobs for several years, and had been living on my own and paying my own rent for three years at this point. In my mind, I was a complete equal to everyone else in that place who held the same position.
One day, I was in the stock room and had been sorting stuff or doing something or other, when a message came over the intercom from the front counter. One of the cashiers needed a carton of cigarettes, and fast. My hands were full of garbage, and when Witch asked me to take the carton up to the front, I said "Sure, I just have to empty my hands!" and I walked a few steps away to a trash can.
"YOU don't walk away when I'm speaking to you!" She barked.
"I SAID, I'm emptying my hands!" I repeated louder so that she could hear me over the music playing back there.
I turned back to her and took the cigarettes at which time she yelled at me for turning my back to her and giving her attitude.
I was a bit shocked, and I can't really remember what I did at that exact point, but I took the cigarettes and walked them to the front of the store, then hid in the pet supply aisle while I cooled my jets.
After I cooled down a bit, I walked back up to Witch, and said to her: "You know, you don't have to treat me like a child. I realize that you didn't hear me over the loud music when I told you I had to empty my hands, and you took that as attitude, but I can guarantee that there would have been no way that you would have reacted the same way if Mindy or Barb had done the same thing." I started crying as I said this. Out of anger. Out of frustration. It's one of my weakest points. I will cry when I'm trying to be strong, and it just doesn't come across as very professional, which I knew at that point, which made me cry just that little bit more.
Instead of apologizing, Witch instead assured me that yes, she WOULD have treated the other, older cashiers the same way. Which I took as complete bull $hit. I quit that day. I gave my two week notice and started looking for another job.
Billy Bob probably didn't read any more after I left, but you can only help a person so much before you have to let them help themselves.
More to come...
And just so you all know, 'cause you've shown concern: This was the second time she had attempted this, the first time I was too far away to grab her, and she landed just fine. This one time was the only time she landed funny, and she's totally fine. She has since tried this act another half dozen times or so, and LOVES it!
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Dog poo on floor.
Mother not noticing
Gross, disgusting mess, on child's hands and face.
After cleaning up, washing said child's hands and face, going out for a bit and coming home....
Child picks up spoon that mother didn't notice before.
Said spoon is covered in dog poo.
Must vomit now.
Monday, September 18, 2006
It's Monday today, which means it's my "Big Clean" day. Monday's are the day that I wash all the sheets and vacuum the floors. In reality, I should vacuum more often, but that SO is not going to happen any time soon.
Monday is also the day that I catch up on any other cleaning I may have been getting behind in. There's no excuse not to clean the kitchen and bathroom on a Monday.
And today, I tried to do a little extra too. I cleaned my front closet! That closet has been so messy and overrun with junk for so long that I just finally had to do something! I got four shallow boxes and put them on the top shelf and labeled them "Toques and Hats", "Scarves and Safety", (Safety meaning reflective stuff for walking in the dark), "Leashes and Harnesses" (for the dogs) and "Gloves and Mitts". The four boxes fit perfectly on the shelf (with no pre-measuring or planning), and just look so neat and tidy!
Now, I have approximately 2 and a half hours before the season premiere of CSI:Miami to go and find some other tidying task!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
My little baby girl has turned into a complete terror!
Maybe it's been slow process and I haven't noticed, or maybe it just started yesterday.
Yesterday, when we went to the Teddy Bear Pic Nic, I realized my kid is a bully. She stole everyone else's teddy bears and made the kids cry.
I also realized she's much more active than other children her age. And much more of a daredevil. She was running circles around the other kids and had no problem sliding down slides that the three year olds were too scared to go down without their parents.
All the other kids sat nicely at pic nic tables or on blankets for lunch, but not my kid. She had to be strapped in her stroller so that she'd stay in one place.
Yesterday, she learned how to climb into her high chair on her own (picture taken today). This is a pretty good trick, 'cause she tells me when she's hungry.
Her second trick isn't so great. She has learned how to climb on the dining table. And besides the obvious reasons as to why this is a bad thing, it's also not so good because I no longer can put non-child friendly stuff on the table! Here she's getting into a bunch of stuff she shouldn't be!
After nap time, I was still over tired, and tried the same trick again. This time while I was on her bed, she decided that pulling my hair and hitting me in the eye with her new toy was the way to get me up. I cannot be certain that she meant to hurt me, but I have my suspicions. Call me a jerk, or evil or whatever, but after she pulled my hair, I pulled hers back. I didn't do it overly hard, and I didn't do it out of anger, but I figured that she needed to know how it felt. Once I knew she got the message, I gave her a hug and got up and off her bed. We then officially started the day with a non-eventful trip to the grocery store.
Starting this next week, I think we need to go to a play group. I need to make some friends, and this kid needs to see how other kids behave. Maybe she'll watch the other kids and calm down a bit, or maybe she'll be the ring leader and train a whole group of thugs.
Is it possible that the terrible two's can start at 14 months?
Oh, and seconds before I was about to hit the "publish post" button. The kid learned how to climb onto my desk. Oh, geez, what freakin' fun!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
Then I gave up a post dated cheque to pay off my car.
Next step: Pay off the credit card,
Then: Pay off the majority of my student loan.
And then, with the monthly payment savings, I should be able to pay off the rest of my student loan in a few months!
Finally, something is going right!
In other news: Cherry gets to go to a "Teddy Bear's Picnic" Birthday party tomorrow! How fun is that!?!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
While I took the car in to get the horn fixed, Cherry and I played at the playground, where the little one showed me how she could go down a (baby) slide all by herself!
When I went back to get the car, not only was the horn fixed, but the car was washed, and the interior was vacuumed.
Afterwards, Cherry and I went to a small mall to pick up dinner and some books for her friend's birthday present for Saturday, and we sat and took a break and shared an ice cream.
Days like these make it all worth it!
Don't forget about the baby contest!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Call the auto body shop to ask them if your car is finally done, and when you're told that it is, indeed done, run outside and madly vacuum out the cracker crumbs from the back seat while your kid sits in her high chair and screams at you from the porch. Don't forget the mouldy sippy cup from under the seat.
Then, you get your kid into the car, and cross your fingers that the three pieces of ID that you DID find are good enough to prove your existence on this earth, and also hope that you will, indeed find your birth certificate sometime in the following few months before it's time to apply for your passport to travel to the states next summer.
Arrive at the notary's office one whole minute late, feeling bad, but realize that really, it isn't that big of a deal. Strap your kid into a stroller so that she can't run crazy in the office, then carry her in her stroller up a steep staircase and into the office. Be amazed at how happy your child is, having been completely derived of sleep, but still stress out as she does her best Houdini impression and tries to break free from the stroller.
Attempt to keep child entertained as you sign five hundred pieces of paper TWICE, because you have power of attorney and need to sign for your husband too, and also deal with your house insurance company via phone in order to up your coverage enough that you can actually be approved for the second mortgage you're trying to get. And approve for the insurance company to take money for the extra coverage out of your account next month for the ENTIRE YEAR because, you know, your insurance comes due in a couple of months, and they can't just let you pay for the couple of months leading up to the renewal date, instead they make you back-pay for the entire past year.
All the while you're handling all this, you're wishing you had worn a different shirt, 'cause you know for sure that your pit stains are growing exponentially with every signature. Then, you leave the office, carry your kid in the stroller down the stairs, put everything into the car, and realize that your kid threw her bottle on the office floor, so you pick your kid up, carry her up the stairs sans stroller, and go in and ask the notary to check under her desk for the bottle while she has two new clients in the office.
Then, bottle in hand, kid in arm, leave the office again, and go down the steps, and run into an old high school crush. Recall how you were JUST TALKING about this particular guy to your husband, telling him how even though you never got with this guy, he was the one guy you crushed on from grade 4 until 12, even though you moved around a lot. Then, also recall how, while talking to your husband about him, that you figured that the guy probably had gotten fat, and was probably an ugly alcoholic, you know, because staying that hot would pretty much be improbable, and a crime.
Then, when he completely recognizes you, and you exchange quick hellos, realize that you were completely wrong, and not only is this guy still hot, but somehow he managed to get HOTTER.
Then, get your kid into the car, strap her in, strap yourself in, and catch a glimpse of not only pit stains spreading down the sides of your shirt, but notice the lines of sweat between where your breasts and pregnant tummy meet. Then, think about how hot you must have looked when you said hello to your old crush.
Then, take the car to the rental shop to return it, get out, get the kid out, wait in line in the office, hand over the keys, and not until after the clerk takes down the KMs, do you realize that you forgot to fill the gas tank. Then, you put your kid back into the car seat for the 100th time, drive up the road to the nearest gas station that has pay at the pump, so that you don't have to take your kid out of the car again, fill up the tank, and thank God that you only emptied the tank once while you had the car for two weeks, 'cause the $52 dollar gas bill is a bit of a stinger.
Then, take the car back to the rental shop, get driven to the auto body place, find out that you indeed have to pay the deductible for the damage to the car that certainly wasn't your fault. Hold back tears as you swipe your credit card, then get back into your old car, which although the front end looks good and new, seems to have endured a couple of new scratches while staying there. Decide to not mention it, 'cause really, what's the point? It would only mean taking the kid out of the car AGAIN, and you drive to the car dealership to make an appointment to get the broken horn fixed on the still warranteed car.
Then you go home.
You look in the mirror and notice that somehow when you put your bronzer on that morning, you managed to basically draw three perfect circles on your face. You look like a clown and you think back to how you ran into your HOT high school crush.
And you put the kid to bed for a nap.
And then you phone the car insurance place to find out why you had to pay the deductible on the car, only to find that there hasn't been a final decision made on the claim, and that there are two reasons why the claim is being held up. One reason is because the adjuster handling your case has flown across the country to bury her MIL, and the other reason is because your BIL didn't seem to think that it was important to call the adjuster back when she left a message at his house to talk about the accident he was in the car for.
Then, you attempt to nap. You have an hour and a half of blissful nap time. Then your child wakes up screaming, and continues to scream until you've placed her in her high chair, given her food and some milk, and set her in front of the TV.
Then you look at your house, which is a total disaster, and you think that it might be a good idea to try to tackle the mess.
But you've also glanced outside, and you notice it looks like it's going to rain. So, you go outside to bring in the area rug you had put out there to dry the other day after deep cleaning it. You huff and puff while you try to lift this thing back over the deck railing and at the same time try to not let it touch the actual deck, 'cause there's splotches of roofing tar here and there. You roll up the carpet as you pull it off the railing, flicking the odd earwig off as you go. Then, you carry the rug, which is much too heavy and awkward for you to carry alone on a good day, and which is certainly too heavy and awkward to be carrying while you're pregnant, and you plop it inside the front door, knowing that you'll still have to move it from that spot and into the room it came from. But not until after you clean said room. And then you think about the fence cap thing you knocked off the railing and you say "forget it."
Then you go to the kitchen and start to get the sink ready for dishes, when you find the pie plate you've had soaking in the sink for two days trying to get the burned blackberries to lift off the bottom. You attempt to scrape the burnt black stuff off, and contemplate throwing the whole thing in the garbage. You don't though. You just put it aside and continue on with the dishes. You don't finish though, 'cause it's time to bathe your kid.
Bed time goes relatively smoothly, except for the fact that you've lost the second bottle of the day. You have JUST filled the bottle with milk, and your hunt around the disaster of a house is turning up nothing.
But then you put your darlin' child to bed, she smiles at you as you say good night, and just for a second, everything is right again.
Until you step back into the rest of the house and look around.
Then, instead of actively working to make said disaster go away, you decide to sit on your ass and talk about your horrible day, only to almost forget to talk about the spiders.
The MOTHER FUC#!NG SPIDERS. They're EVERYWHERE. Last week there was the huge one that my cat had cornered and I trapped under a jar to wait there until the morning when Armondo could be a man and kill it for me.
There were those spiders in the bed.
There was that dead spider that had drowned in the bathtub the night before last. That one was as big as my hand!
And then there's the spider last night. I had just gotten back into bed, I was watching TV, and I was just about to bite into my PB+J sandwich, when this scary looking, but only medium sized spider came shooting down from the ceiling with what looked like every intention of landing on my plate.
I jumped up, and so did he, and as he tried to ascend as quickly as he had descended, I grabbed a hand full of tissue and attempted to grab and squish him, mid air. At which point, he JUMPED from his silky string and flew onto my bed! I caught him though, and squished him and had the heeby jeebies for the rest of the sleep-less night.
And that, my dears, is how to have a stressful day. And to that I say "Aren't husbands supposed to be around to deal with car s#it and spiders? I mean, isn't that what they're FOR?!?"
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
You know how people do baby pools when there's a baby due? You know, people make guesses about the baby and pay to be a part of it, and then the winner gets half of the money and the parents get the other half? Yeah, well, I'd like to do one of those with you guys, but since I don't have a pay pal account set up, and I'd feel sort of weird taking your money, I've decided I'd start a contest with you all, and instead of money if you win, you get a stupid prize and bragging rights!
Are you all in?!?
Kay, great. So, here are the rules:
~We will be using a point system to declare the winner (to be explained below).
~The person with the most points, will win.
~In the event of a tie, I will come up with a tie-breaking question.
~All entries must be submitted either by commenting on this particular post, or by emailing me using the email address found on the sidebar.
~All entries must be in by midnight, November 15th, 2006.
~You may ask me specific questions in order to help you come up with your answers. Please either ask me in the comments for THIS post, or in an email. All questions and answers will be posted either in the comment section of this post, or in a separate post to which I will link from this post.
~You may look through the archives at old posts in order to help you out. The "search this blog" button on the top left corner of the page will be your friend.
~Prize to be awarded will not be spectacular, and since I will have just had a baby, do not expect it to be awarded in any sort of timely fashion.
~If you win, you will be contacted by email, as well as your name and blog link will be posted. If you want my sucktackular prize, you must send me your snail mail address so I can send it to you.
~Prize depends on your location of residence. If you live in the states, for instance, your prize may consist of some delicious goodies that you just can't find in the states.
You must answer all of the following questions, and points to be awarded are listed afterwards.
What will be the sex of the baby?
Guess the sex correctly: 15 pts
What time will the baby be born?
Guess the time of day EXACTLY: 50 pts
Closest to the time of day, but not exact, and within 10 minutes: 45 pts
Guess the time of day and within 10 minutes, but not the closest guess: 30 pts
Closest to the time of day, but not exact, and not within 10 minutes: 25 pts
Guess the right time exactly, but get am or pm wrong: 25 pts
What date will the baby be born?
Guess the date of birth: 25 pts
Closest to the date of birth, but not exact: 20 pts
What day of the week will the baby be born? (in case you get the date wrong, but have a hunch that it'll be a "Thursday's child" or something like that)
Day of the week guessed correctly: 15 pts
How much will the baby weigh?
Guess the weight EXACTLY: 50 pts
Closest to the weight, but not exact: 40 pts
What colour are the baby's eyes? (If we can't even tell, like we couldn't with Cherry, then this question will be left out)
Guess the colour of the baby's eyes: 25 pts
I didn't use any specific method to come up with these point numbers, and if you don't like my system, oh well!
And since we're on the topic of babies, and since the REAL "she who must be obeyed" asked me to: Here is a picture of the baby bassinet I just bought and assembled. (And boy was it tough to assemble!)
Monday, September 11, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
But, still, there are some lessons to be learned about the art of cooking with a crock pot. Take a minute to read a few here:
Lesson number one: The "Keep Warm" setting on the crock pot is not meant to be left on overnight. Your food will burn.
Lesson number two: Said burnt food is not appetizing. Not even to dogs. One of my dogs refused to even go near the crock pot, while the other one took turns looking at it, looking back to me, looking back at the
And that concludes your first cooking lesson with CeCe. Stay tuned for more cooking mis-adventures.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Awhile ago, I posted one reason why I didn't really want a boy. It had to do with boy pee. Well, now I delve a little deeper and try to figure out the pros and cons to having a boy vs. another girl.
First up: Boy hair.
When Armondo's brother Dill was here, I got to experience full fledged boy hair again. Armondo is a pretty hairy guy (come on, it's sexy, we all know it.) and I often find his body hair here and there, and, well, everywhere. One place I usually don't find it is in the shower, because I have TRAINED him. That, and I've banned bar soap from the shower 'cause I was sick of having to pull pubes off the bar before I used it.
But when Dill came to visit, I got to experience boy hair again. ALL OVER THE TUB. EWWWW. Luckily, he only showered once the whole week he was here. (I don't know why, but boys seem to think that going swimming is just as good as showering.) As I was rinsing all the boy hair down the drain (fully aware that that meant that I would probably have to clean it out of the drain at a future date, but totally ignoring that fact) I thought about if I had a boy, I'd have another male to TRAIN about body hair in the shower.
And that's the thing. I know that I can train a boy to be clean, but I'm so not looking forward to that. And, also, I'm fully aware that Cherry will need to be trained as well, but I just feel like it won't be so embarrassing 'cause we're both female.
Second: Hand me downs.
If I have another girl, we're set. We'd have all sorts of clothes for her, most of which are in pretty good shape. Less expense for us!
The problem with that is... heirlooms. How do you split family heirlooms between two girls? And what about the concept of ownership? I mean, Cherry has an old doll of mine, some old stuffies, and some old dresses of mine. If another girl comes along, she'll play with the same stuff, wear the same dresses, and when they're older and start having their own kids, who gets which dress and who gets the Raggedy Anne doll that their great-great-great grandmother mother made? (It'll be four "greats" when they pass it on to THEIR children!)
If it's a boy, I only have a few things that are suitable. When I was pregnant the first time, friends and family gave us both boy and girl hand me downs, and I kept them because I knew I was planning on a second child soon after.
But, having a boy, and not having enough clothes give me a great excuse to go SHOPPING! And really, who doesn't love shopping for baby clothes?
A side note: I haven't actually bought anything for this baby yet. Is that bad? I'm five months pregnant and I haven't even looked at newborn clothes.
Having a boy will throw off the balance in this Zoo. There can only be one boy. That boy is Armondo. In all the time we've lived together, there has never been another boy who has lasted.
First, we got a male guinea pig. He died within a week. He was free from the pet store that I frequented, so although it was sad, it was more like we were babysitting him until he died sort of thing because the pet store was overrun with male guinea pigs.
Then, there was the rooster. He was beautiful. He was a bantam (small) and was a silky (soft, hair-like feathers) and he wasn't very tough or very agile. He froze to death in the winter because he couldn't jump high enough to sit with the hens to keep warm. We felt pretty bad about that one.
Then there was Beatlejuice. He was a very cute, lovable, black kitten who had this adorable quirk where he would "latch on" to Annie's jowels and would suckle. He was great, but he pissed everywhere, and we couldn't get him to stop. I took him to the vet, and she couldn't give me an answer, and because I was pregnant, and we had just installed new carpets in the bedrooms, I couldn't deal with cleaning up male cat pee all the time, so I took him to the SPCA. It was very tough, I cried and cried. He got adopted quite quickly though because the vet that the SPCA took him to, figured out right away that it was a urine crystal problem and it was cured by changing his diet. (That made me more sad, 'cause I gave up on him so easily, and it was an easy cure. But I tried my best, darnit!)
Then there was Neo, the dog. He was a nice looking husky/collie cross. Annie loved hanging out with him and the two of them would play fight all the time. But Neo wasn't a good dog. He escaped the yard over and over, he chewed shoes, blankets, stuffed toys, and wasn't fully house trained. But we were the third family to adopt him, and Annie loved him, so I kept him despite these faults. But then, he did the unthinkable. I was pregnant with Cherry, and I had my then three year old God son "O." over, and Neo started to get jealous of him. The little guy couldn't go into any room without the dog following him and barking, and one time when I picked O. up, Neo actually barked, growled and nipped at his feet. It took two days of decision making, but I made up my mind and we returned him to the SPCA. I couldn't choose a dog over the safety of little ones.
And there have only been females besides that, and we've never had problems with the females, except for one, but we were just cat-sitting her, and she wasn't really ours.
So, I'm not saying that anything bad would happen to a boy if he was born into the family, but it just seems like there's this delicate balance, you know? But hey, if Armondo's fishing all the time, maybe there'd be room for another male!?!
Five: Sibling Rivalry.
I have this vision of my two kids sharing a bedroom and getting along great and sharing friends, etc. I know, it's not a realistic fantasy, but oh well.
I watch movies and I see siblings interacting and I'm always thinking "oh, I want my kids to be like that!" I see pairs of kids in shopping carts in the mall, and I point them out to Armondo, saying "oh look, those two little girls are so cute together, don't you think they're cute?!?" Then he points out a boy and girl together and tells me how cute THEY are.
I don't have a lot of experience with siblings. I do have a brother, but he's six years younger than me, I only lived with him until he was 10, and he was a half brother and was VERY protected by his mother, so we never even had the CHANCE to be rivals. And I don't talk to him anymore, so I have no idea how siblings interact. So, on this one, I need your opinions. Boy and girl a good combo? or two girls? I mean, it's not like I have a CHOICE, but it'll be interesting to know what you have to say.
Six: Marital rivalry.
This is what it all really comes down to. In all honesty, I'd love to have either a boy or a girl. All the above questions are just silly. But the REAL reason why I have these questions and these thoughts is because it sure is fun to tease my husband who wants a boy in order to have a "set". That, and he wants a kid he can call "Junior." (LAME) He wants to name a child after him, and even if we have a boy, I'm not going to let him. The boy can have hubby's first name as his middle name, but that's it. And I REFUSE to call any of my kids "Junior"! (The only exception is if the baby is born on hubby's birthday AND it's a boy, THEN, and only then, can the boy have the same first name. But I still refuse to call him Junior!)
Thursday, September 07, 2006
I remember being six years old and going to a house down the road where two girls lived. One girl was a little younger than me, the other was probably seven or eight. I didn't hang out with them very often, in fact, it may have only been once, but I remember that we all took turns laying down and closing our eyes as another one of us would stick a sticker somewhere on her body and the person lying down had to guess where it was without opening her eyes. I'll spare you the details, but things got a little... sexual. It was at that young age that I realized that I was slightly attracted to girls. We also practiced peeing standing up that day too. I don't know if I really was any good or not, but I sure thought I was. I wonder how much pee I got on the floor?
Anyway, I didn't do anything else with a girl until the summer after grade 11. I had never questioned my sexuality during highschool, being thoroughly convinced that I was straight, but I also thought women were totally beautiful. That being said, I KNEW I liked guys, but I sort of wanted to know what it was like to make out with a girl. But we'll get back to that.
During most of elementary and high school, I was a what you would call a "tomboy".
When I was in the early grades, I HATED wearing dresses, because I couldn't run around and play with the boys as easily as if I were wearing pants. I LOATHED my father when he MADE me wear a dress or skirt at least two days a week. (Which, really, meant I had to wear a dress THREE days a week, because I had brownies right after school one day a week, and all the brownies would wear their dresses to school that day.)
When I was a pre-teen, I joined Navy Cadets, and insisted on being in the "guard" because then I wore the same uniform as the guys, and didn't have to have those silly bell bottoms showing.
In my early teens, I played lacrosse on an all boys team.
In high school, I would often dress grunge style and wear huge army boots or various other types of manly boots and would pair them with old man pants from the thrift store.
I always hung out with boys, and I was always dating a boy. The guys always felt me to be "one of them", and even though there was always one of them that I was making out with, the rest of the guys didn't seem to care. That was probably because they knew that they were most likely next, once the standard two week dating period was up.
I was a tomboy AND I was a slut. I knew what I liked and I went for it. Over and over and over. That being said, I was pretty naive about the actual act of intercourse. I knew all about the biology of it, but when the time came for me to actually have sex, I was still pretty confused. It had only been weeks before the big event that I had seen my first movie where people were having sex. Well, maybe I had before, but I must not have known what was going on, because that time, when I watched that movie, I caught myself thinking "You MOVE when you have sex?" Yeah, I knew about the p3nis entering the va&ina, but I really didn't know that there was more than just that initial penetrating move. Maybe that should have been the first clue that I was too young to have sex! I was fifteen when I actually lost my virginity, well before any of my female friends (yes, I had some female friends, just not as many as guy friends), but I had been quite sexually active for awhile before that.
I only had sex three times with that boy before he broke it off with me to get back with his ex. I had sex one more time when I was 16 with a different guy, and then didn't again until I was out living on my own, working, paying rent, and was 19. Ever seen "Clerks" though? Yeah, well, I was sort of like that guy's girlfriend, you know, the one he yells at "Try not to give anyone a bl0w jo6 on your way back to the car!" Yeah, that was me. All through high school I gave head freely, and pretty much did every act you can imagine except the one that could potentially get me pregnant. And I liked it. And, after a few tips from those guy friends I had, I became pretty good at that stuff, if I do say so myself. And I could org4sim. Right from the get go. I never had any problem enjoying myself.
But, because I was a tomboy, those guys who weren't in my inner circle had no idea that I got naked so easily. In fact, I was often referred to as a "butch", which to silly old me, just meant they were saying I was tough. I had no clue that they were inferring that I was gay. In fact, I got called a butch a LOT. But, it wasn't until well after high school that I realized that a butch was the more manly woman in a lesbian relationship. (If you've ever seen "Weatherman", then you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that I thought that I had something in common with the camel toe girl in the movie. The naive thing.)
Like I mentioned before, I had never questioned my sexuality while I was young. Not until a female friend of mine questioned my sexuality FOR me. My friend, we'll call her Heidi (feel free to out yourself in the comments if you want to) started to "come out" when we were in grade 10 (I think). She dated a couple of girls, but also went back to the odd boy. I'm guessing that she would have dated more girls if there were more girls available to date, but with the lack of selection, it's my theory that she just fell back on boys.
At one point, Heidi and I were dating guys who were best friends. During the time that Heidi and I were dating these guys, she started asking me about whether I liked girls, and such. The question had never really come up in my head before, because I KNEW I liked boys, regardless of how pretty girls were. But she made me think about it, and I decided that yeah, I could like a girl. I could make out with a girl. Then, one day, while the four of us were just chatting and hanging out on a bed, Heidi and I strategically placed ourselves so that I could *ahem* "finger" her. My boyfriend was also sort of fondling me at the same time, so I was totally turned on, but I wasn't able to differentiate whether it was the girl on girl stuff that I liked, or just the whole experience. Anyway, it was really neat to explore her. It sort of became less of a sexual interest, and more of a biology experiment as I swirled my finger around and felt the different female parts. She felt different than I did. The thing I remember most is that her cervix was more wrinkly than mine. After a time went by, and the guys really started to figure out what was going on, we kicked them out of the room and we kissed. The kiss itself was nice. I mean, she was an ok kisser, not too slobbery or anything, but I just wasn't into it. With the absence of my boyfriend fondling me, and the whole atmosphere we had created, the kiss just wasn't all that great for me. After the event, I freaked out. I felt like a total jerk. I had just cheated on my boyfriend, and I thought I LOOOVED my boyfriend. After Heidi and her boy left the house, I spent the next four hours crying and apologizing to my great boyfriend, who had started by being pissed off, but softened once he saw just how upset I was. I was sure I was going to get dumped, but instead we were able to make up and we dated until the beginning of that up coming school year.
I didn't have any more experiences with girls until after I graduated and started partying at bars. When girls dance at bars and get drunk, it doesn't take long for them to start rubbing against each other and to start kissing. That happened a couple of times, but nothing more occurred than that. Oh, and a completely random girl grabbed my ass over and over when I danced in front of her. HARD. She scared me. She scared me more than any guy who ever hit on me in a bar. (I should mention that after I graduated from high school, I was slowly becoming more feminine, and I would sometimes dress up to go out.)
For about two years starting when I was 19 or 20, I dated one guy on and off, and shortly there after, I went on a major sex spree with several different men. That all ended when I started dating Armondo.
However, my fascination with women was only really beginning when I started dating him. As Armondo and I got closer, I began to feel sexier and more confident. I also became much more feminine. He made (and still makes) me feel really good about myself. I was able to really start to grow more into myself, as I had felt sort of trapped and smothered in my last relationship. As I became more confident and sure of myself, I started to want to experiment more. One night, we brought a woman home with us from the bar. Armondo and I had only been together for a short period of time, but we were living together already. We brought home a girl who we were both friends with and who was one of those girls who I had bumped and grinded with on the dance floor. She seemed totally into getting it on with me, and laid one hot and sexy kiss on me in the car as we pulled into the driveway. It had already been made clear that she was for ME, and not Armondo, but that while us girls were making out, I was still fair game to him. Well, the three of us fell into my tiny little bed, and with me in the middle, the heavy petting began. And she fell asleep. In about five minutes. Apparently she was pretty drunk. Nothing else happened that night, and nothing happened with her since.
Over the years that Armondo and I have been together, I have often brought up that I would like to make out with a girl. And it wasn't too long ago that I had thought to myself that maybe, if I had met a wonderful woman, instead of this wonderful man, that I very well could have seen myself marrying a woman. That's right, it wasn't until a few months ago that I ACTUALLY questioned my sexuality. I wasn't thinking that I was full out gay, I was just questioning if I was, indeed, bisexual.
The women I find attractive though, they are womanly women. They aren't butchy, they aren't manly. They are beautiful, lovely, and feminine, yet still strong. And, I've never found a woman attractive who was a man hater. In short, I haven't found many lesbians attractive. Except most of the lesbians on "The L Word."
Recently though, I have really come to understand my sexuality. I am just plain sexual*. As far as the "sex" part goes, I could swing both ways. But as far as being in a relationship, I really, honestly don't think I could be with a woman. Sure, they're hot, but we women, we're crazy**. And really, putting two crazy beings together.. not such a good idea. You need that yin and yang thing. That being said, some lesbian couples would work out fine, because you get that more feminine woman with the more manly woman, and you get that yin yang thing there.
BUT, geez do I still want to make out with a woman!
So, not too long ago, I placed an ad on a local dating site looking for a woman. It didn't take long for me to find a very attractive, slightly older, married woman with children. She was just looking for "friends with benefits" and that suited me just fine. We met in person and seemed to hit it off. We were in a public place with all the children, as well as with her nieces and nephews, her mom and her mom-in-law! That was sort of weird, but as far as they all knew, she was just meeting a "friend". To make a long story short, we only hung out once, I was stood up several times, and I called the whole thing off.
During the week to two weeks that this little thing was going on, I went through all those gross self doubt, nagging feelings that I had been able to put behind me once Armondo and I got together. You know... "What if I'm not pretty enough?" "What if I smell funny?" "Is that ingrown hair noticeable?" "Should I shave my legs today, or wait until tomorrow?" "Do I sound like a dork?" etc.
So, after ending it with her, and going through all the "Why did she treat me like that, am I not good enough?" crap, I decided it just wasn't worth it to even consider being with a woman, 'cause I just didn't need to put myself though the torture, when I've got a perfectly good person who loves and satisfies me anyway!
Until someone else came along.
She's a fellow blogger. She's a bit older, and she's totally hot. She's married and has a kid. When I found out she had a crush on me, I was intrigued, and wanted to get to know her better. We email each other, we chat online, and we've been trying to make plans to visit and meet one another.
This is where I get stuck. Before she mentioned that she liked me, the thought had never occurred to me that I might like her. I found her blog writing to be good, but not overly personal, so I didn't get that same feeling of "getting to know" her as early as she felt she was getting to know me. It wasn't until she revealed her crush that I started to become slightly interested in getting to know her. It was at this point that I took the time to go through her flickr account to see some larger close up pictures of her, and at which point I was able to see just how gorgeous she is. She has a great smile, great skin and sparkling eyes.
She sort of surprised me with the admission of the crush, and it came on the heels of feeling so stupid about my last attempt at getting to know a woman "in that way". So, I started off quite guarded. Well, sort of. I admitted right from the start that I'd probably like to make out with her. As we got to know each other better, it started to be obvious that we were on different plains. Here was this beautiful woman who really, actually is truly bi-sexual, and she's falling in love with me, who, really just wants to 3at a woman 0ut. That's it. I just want to have sex with a woman.
One night, a married female friend and I went out and went dancing at the local gay bar. We went to that particular bar because a (straight) male friend of mine was D.J.ing that night, and he was trying to get as many of his friends out as possible. My friend was totally up for going to the gay bar, because she felt "safer" and figured she'd have more fun there than if we went to one of the other bars where half of the people are underage and it's just a total meat market.
It was that night that I started to get the real clue about how much my internet friend liked me. She admitted to me that she was sort of jealous that I was going to a gay bar. She didn't go into detail, so I can't really say whether she was jealous 'cause she wished SHE was able to go dance at a gay bar, or if she was thinking that I was going to the gay bar to go cruising. Regardless of what she was thinking, I assured her that I hadn't gone there to look for anyone, and explained about the D.J. friend.
By this time we were becoming good friends, and I really care about her in a friendly way. A lot. Like almost a best friend. And I love my best friends. So, when this woman sent me an email the other day telling me how beautiful I am, and how much she's falling in love with me, I didn't know how to respond. Using the words available to me in the English language, I could say the same thing to her, but I know it means something totally different. I love her too, and she's very beautiful, but I'm not falling "in love" with her. And my attraction to her, outside of the friendship part, is purely sexual.
At the time I responded to the email, all I could come up with was some lame-assed thank you. I think that hurt her. She poured her heart out to me, and I couldn't even offer her a well said truth. And for that, I'm sorry. But here, here in this post, is my truth. And I'm sorry it's not the truth you wanted, and I'm sorry that the end of this post turned into a post about you, and not just about me, and I'm sorry I can't be all that you want me to be. But I still think you're beautiful, and I like our friendship, and I really would like to meet you someday, and if you want to make out, then that's cool, 'cause gosh darn it, I've been waiting a REALLY long time to make out with a woman! But if you just want to hang out and be good friends, then that works for me too.
~With love and respect, your crazy Canuck.
*=only if I'm well fed, well rested, and not breastfeeding.
**=I'm totally including myself in this statement. And ALL women. It has to do with the hormones and the silly jealousy monster we have.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Me calling Walmart: Electronics Please.
Electronics Girl (E.G.): Electronics, how can I help you?
Me: Hi, do you guys sell RAM by any chance?
E.G.:Could you please tell me what that is?
Me (amused, but figuring she just misheard me): Computer RAM, do you have any?
Me: Um, RAM, memory for computers? Random Access Memory?
E.G.:Um, hold on, I'll go check.
Me (on hold): LAUGHING.
E.G. (comes back a few seconds later): I'm sorry, it doesn't look like we have any, but you could try back in a couple of weeks, maybe!
Me: Ok, thank you!
I hang up. Start laughing my butt off, and Armondo is dying to hear the details. Wow. I thought *I* was computer illiterate!
~We went swimming, not at the river, but in an indoor pool.
~The clothes off the line smell “crisp”.
~Cherry is wearing sleepers at night instead of just a onesie or shorts.
~I have the urge to put slippers on in the morning.
~Armondo pulled the second blanket over us last night.
~The days are getting shorter, and it's dark shortly after Cherry goes to bed.
~The thought of going for a walk doesn't bring visions of dehydration and sweat soaked clothes to mind.
~Good TV is about to start again!
~The clothes in the stores are cute again. I LOVE sweaters!
~Armondo is preparing to leave again :(
~Hockey starts soon!
Want to add any?
Saturday, September 02, 2006
The problem? It's faulty, and we have to exchange it for a new one on Thursday. For some reason when you play a DVD, the sound doesn't work! But, I'll only be big shiny TV-less for a couple of hours, so I guess I'll survive.
Armondo came home with it and started setting it up right away. He didn't buy the wall bracket though, 'cause it was pretty expensive, but he swears he can make one. It's not that bad without the wall bracket though. The buttons are on TOP of the TV, so Cherry can't get at them, and it comes with a strap to secure it to the wall so it doesn't tip.
Up until this point, Cherry hasn't really watched much TV. I have a few episodes of Veggie Tales and Sponge Bob on my computer that she watches now and then, but she's never really had the TV on in front of her. I cut the cable this past summer in hopes of reading more, (umm.. I read ZERO books) and now that the cable's back on, and we've got a new TV, my "No TV for little ones" rule has gone out the window. I'm pleased I was so good for up to a year though! It's going to be much harder to stop the second born from watching TV for sure!
Mind you, the TV is on much more often while Armondo is home than when it's just me. (He's the TV fanatic, I'm the computer fanatic.)