oh hai thar blog. how YOU doin?
and… we’re… LIVE. (((wild applause and cheering)))
as you all know, i have been dealing with a bit of a hack issue for the last few weeks. long story short, my former domain host hacked away at my site like one does when chipping away at an ice sculpture, only instead of creating a masterpiece, they effed up not only my site, but my entire database thereby causing me much angst, wondering if the last 3 years of my life that i’ve shared with the interwebz was gone.
the heroine (not the kind you shoot up) in all of this is my new webmaster, @PrincessJenn of Princess Prose and co-creator of BlogHerAtHome.com with me. not only is jenn entirely responsible for recovering ALL three years of content that exist on my blog, she is also the fantastically talented designer of my new home… one that i intend on keeping for a very long time.
she can’t get rid of me no matter how hard she tries. jenn has the brains and the boobs beauty behind the design, and if you’re in the market for something spectacular, i suggest you scope out her portfolio, designs by princess jenn.
all joking aside, there are no adequate words to fully describe the gratitude i have for jenn and the work she has done. you writers/bloggers understand… when you have this space where you freely express yourself and share yourself with others, you love it. it’s your haven. and to have been hacked so ferociously and consistently for weeks on end is so incredibly invasive. i know i’m not the only blogger who has endured the wrath of a hacker recently, but i do know how it made me feel, and it leaves me now with so much gratitude for a friend i can trust to share my space with, knowing she has it protected to the best of her ability.
so THANK YOU jenn… for so much. me lurves ya long times.
now that that’s out of the way… *tear sniff sniff* take a gander around. somethings have stayed the same and others have changed. i have *GASP* dropped what was my “bottle of the week,” for a couple of reasons. a lot of other bloggers have started doing similar things on their own blog, and simply put, they know their shit better than i do when it comes to beer and wine. i just like to drink it and photograph it. the other reason for dropping it is because it was kinda stressing me out a few months back, feeling like i HAD TO HAVE A NEW BOTTLE POSTED BY MONDAY. meh… less stress, more lazy.
if you’re wondering “WHERE DID HER BLOGROLL GO BECAUSE I WAS ON IT AND NOW IF THE BLOGROLL IS NOT THERE THEN I’M NOT THERE AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT ME…” fear not. my blogroll can now be found on it’s own page, at the top tool bar (haha, i love saying “tool”) and appropriately titled “hooked on.” if you’re not on my blogroll and thus feel neglected and alone, let me know.
so take a gander… go ahead. don’t be scurred.
pull up a seat and pour yourself a glass of crazy.
cheers!
welcome back cystic acne and high school
funny thing just happened… i was brought back to high school via email. i’m on the email list for our graduating class (i say “our” because paul and i went to high school together, incase you didn’t already know that.)
why am i on this list? i dunno.
how did my high school get my contact info? i dunno.
what do i typically do when i see these emails in my inbox? click “delete” and move on.
this morning, however, i received an email from a former high school classmate about my blog.
the first thing that went through my mind was “oh shit, i’ve offended someone with my language, my tattoos, my liberal, hippie-loving, cheap wine-drinking self.”
instead of hitting “delete,” i read the email. and read sweet words from someone i have not been in contact with for YEARS. like LONG ASS YEARS.
it’s funny when i think about who may be out there reading this blog, finding out about my blog from my facebook page, following me on twitter, etc… (enter your social networking site of choice here) that i don’t know about.
my webmaster can attest to the fact that i know NOTHING when it comes to tracking anything in terms of numbers on my blog… i don’t know my stats. i don’t track who reads about my insanity, subscribes to my RSS feed.
i don’t even know what a damn RSS feed is… except that it doesn’t sound edible.
what i now know is that people actually read this.
people read my words, and some *GASP* actually enjoy reading my words.
AND to top it all off, some of these people who are reading my words, i know… like in real life.
i have a history with some of these people. hell, i’ve made out with some of these people.
shut up, paul, so have you!!! i just made out with more.
it’s just funny… this epiphany that probably should’ve dawned on me a helluva long time ago, when i went public with my blog and started truly pursuing my writing career. i should’ve realized then that the words i write will be seen by people, including people who know/knew me.
but the vast majority of my readership who comment are people that i don’t “know.” i mean, we “know” each other via blogs, etc… but we haven’t made out… yet.
shut up, paul, i’m joking.
::wink::
in addition to this awesome high school-esque revelation, on this day that i received the email i mentioned above, my chin decided to break out in all kinds of pimply goodness.
apparently my post-sperminator, IUD extraction hormones are finally figuring out that they have been freed.
so yay for me… for acne… for growing the hell up and then being taken back to your teens in the blink of an eye.
and thanks… for reading… and letting me know. that’s kinda badass.
WTF is that?!?!
i have this patch of hair. it grows in the opposite direction of the rest of my hair. and it’s annoying as hell.
of course it’s right at my hairline too.
right here…
pay NO ATTENTION to the dark circles under my eyes as i have no makeup on. your focus should be on the strange hair patch.
and sure, i’ve parted my hair to that side so that it goes in the same direction as the little patch that irritates me EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY, but ya know what?
i don’t like parting my hair that way. it just doesn’t feel right. so there hair patch.
THERE.
i also found a grey eyebrow hair a few weeks ago. this was NOT fun.
i had been tweezing because i am at the point where my eyebrow chick has raised her prices and i can no longer afford both her and my hair stylist and quite frankly, styling the hair on my head is of more importance to me than the hair that grows above my eyes.
so the bitch raises her prices and i have since been tweezing.
i know. you’re not “supposed to” tweeze unless you actually know what you’re doing… especially when you have tarantula eyebrows like mine (see above picture if you didn’t get a good look the first go-round.)
whatever, so i am tweezing and growing accustomed to sneezing while doing so because for some reason i always sneeze as i tweeze.
back to the grey eyebrow hair… so i found that…
and then two weeks ago, mom was here and rubbing my head because i was being a baby after putting my own baby to sleep and SHE FOUND A GREY HAIR ON MY HEAD.
LIKE ON MY HEAD.
WTF is that?!?!? i mean really… what is that about?!?!?
i won’t even be 29 until may. c’mon now.
sometimes i wish 30 would just get here so i could say that i’m “in my thirties” because other moms ask my age and it’s occasionally awkward.
i mean, i won a gift bag the other night at a get-together i went to because i was the youngest there.
but the gift bag was cool and has free tickets to a kiddie thing that i get to take jackson to, so that was nice.
it also included 2 hershey bars.
i only ate 1 but that’s because paul stole the other, or else i would’ve eaten that one as well.
and not felt guilty about it.
one of my fave english professors in grad school told me that i needed to write every day.
at some point of EVERY DAY i needed to write in order to become a “good” writer.
WTF is that?!?!
some days, i don’t write.
some days, i read.
THE HORROR!!!
but, this tidbit of knowledge that my professor bestowed upon me did not keep me from torturing my own middle schoolers that i taught for two years.
oh yes, there was designated journal time.
and oh yes, they had to write until i told them to stop… even if it meant writing, “Mrs. White is making me write something and I have nothing to write about and when I have nothing to write about it makes me angry, kinda like the other night when Haley told me that she would meet me at the movies and then texted me that she was going to go to the movies with Jared instead. Yeah, that pissed me off.”
the rant would continue, as you can imagine, and it was those students who ended up groaning when i called “TIME” because they wanted to finish their journal entry.
i’m sure they thought “WTF is that?!?!”
cuz, ya know… i WANTED them to write.
they probably still wonder that now.
no, they probably have moved on to their high school dramas and smoking and making out in the back seat of cars and cool things like that.
i wanna make out in the back seat of a car again.
that was hot.
i wonder if i get no action in the back seat of the car anymore because of my weird hair patch…
no, it’s probably because i am very rarely in a car without my son.
and the backseat of it is filled with a lazy-boy recliner of a car seat, chewed up toys either from my son or the dog or both, and empty drive-thru cups that paul likes to leave under the seat of my car but they always end up rolling around the floor and then i find them and get mad.
oh yeah, and my car is a VW hatchback.
and my husband is 6’6″ and wouldn’t fit in the backseat.
he, on the other hand drives a tahoe…
i mean, the word “ho” is in the name of his damn car.
HELLO!!!!!!!!!!
let’s make out in the back seat.
but then he probably looks at my weird hair patch and thinks, “WTF is that?!?!”
let’s talk scalding hot cooters
cuz i almost lost mine this morning. yes, my cooter came THIS CLOSE to dying a horrific and blistering death this morning thanks to scalding hot coffee and sleep deprivation.
if you saw my tweets this morning, you may have experienced the aftermath of my near-cooter-demise…
mind you, i am not currently covered in lower abdominal boils, nor are there any pinkish, tender areas of said cooter region… but HOLY CRAP YA’LL it was traumatizing, and most definitely NOT how one wants to wake up in the morning, especially a monday morning.
because, mondays suck. no matter what takes place during your day… if it’s a monday, it sucks. sorry, but it just does.
if the week began on a tuesday, tuesdays would suck. alas, it begins on a monday, thus mondays suck.
back to my cooter…
i’m lucky enough to have one of those fantastically hot husbands who gets up before i do in the morning and brings me coffee in bed. ((((swoon)))) i know, and i love every second of it, especially when he brings me a dark chocolate covered biscotti along with the coffee.
paul knows i need AT LEAST one cup of coffee running through my veins before i can begin to contemplate my day with the magoo. on special occasions, like president’s day, or mondays when paul needs to get to work early because he has a class to teach at 7:55, he’ll add not one BUT TWO shots off espresso to my coffee.
a friend of ours once told us this coffee beverage is referred to as a “hammer head,” but we prefer to be crude about it and create out own names using both the words “hammer” and “head” on an individual basis in order to create such inappropriate names.
it’s fun.
so, this morning, paul gets up with his alarm… he shaves… and then proceeds to make my “jack hammer” out in the kitchen while i continue to sleep peacefully. he places the delicious beverage on my nightstand along with a dark chocolate covered biscotti, and then wakes me up…
BY SHAKING ME VIOLENTLY BECAUSE OTHERWISE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO WAKE ME FROM MY SLUMBER!!!
once paul sees me adjust myself from the position of fully laying down to sitting somewhat upright and sipping my coffee, he goes to the bathroom to shower and continue his morning routine.
little did he know that i would fall back to sleep while sitting up…
AND SPILL FUCKING COFFEE WITH FUCKING ESPRESSO ON MY FUCKING COOTER!!!
i mean for christ’s sake, i close my eyes for ONE SECOND and the coffee mug goes…
give me a break!!!
so my lower abdomen that houses my c-section scar, thereby giving me two bellies, is scalded through my tshirt. and then i raise the tshirt and see BELOW…
and the underpants (don’t worry, they were boy-shorts, not granny panties) were soaked…
my cooter was MAGENTA with fury.
i lept out of bed, but this of course meant that i spilled that much more of my “head jack” on the bed, wasting that much more of the lusciously caffeinated beverage and soaking our sheets.
the now 1/4 cup mug of coffee is placed on my nightstand, the dark chocolate biscotti still awaits tantalizing my taste buds, and i disrobe. i strip down, leaving my coffee-soaked tshirt and underpants on the sheets and light blanket that have been covered in the “jack hammer” that paul made for me to enjoy.
i knock on the bathroom door. paul opens it.
HIM: “hey.”
ME: “move over. i spilled the fuckin coffee and i’m soaked.”
HIM: “that sucks.”
ME: “no shit. move over.”
HIM: “are you hurt?”
ME: “well, it didn’t feel good.” (then showing him my MAGENTA pink abdomen)
HIM: “dang.”
ME: “yeah, thanks. shampoo please.”
and thus began my monday… how was yours???
weeping
i lived in a house with 6 other girls in college.
they are the sisters i never had.
one of these roommates, one of my sisters, an unbelievable, irreplaceable, effervescent woman… a cancer survivor…
her 18 year old sister died last night.
18.
1-8.
i’ve known her since she was 12. i think of her and imagine her in my mind right now and she’s 12.
she’s beautiful. she’s part of the family that was created in our house.
she’s gone.
life is just fucking cruel somedays.
and today, as i walked off the plane back to baltimore, back home after our holiday vacation with our families, i turned my phone on and received this cruel and unfair and unfathomable news.
she’s gone.
18.
my suitcase is staying packed until i get word on arrangements and head back.
my sisters are hurting.
i am weeping with them on the phone now and will continue to do so until we are all reunited and can weep together.
Have a Sip
