Pink Sheets

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

We Must Be Very, Very Careful

As I've mentioned before my kids go to Catholic school. This basically means that I have no idea what's going on half of the time. I don't know any of the saints or any of the rituals or why the heck they started crying when I served them meat for dinner one night last year when "they aren't suppose to be eating meat". The one thing I do know is they have mass on Friday's. They have to wear a certain uniform on mass days and one of the requirements for the boys is to wear a tie.

The beginning of the school year I start with 2 or 3 ties. By about this time, I have none. I usually harass their dad to throw a tie in the bag when I pick them up for my week, but last week I forgot. Sometimes I have him cheat. Yes, that's right, cheat. Don't judge me. They have school sweatshirts and I have him wear one when I forget the tie. That way they don't "catch" him without a tie. Well, I had a hoodie, which is not the same as the sweatshirt, and they aren't allowed to wear their hoodies on mass day. Crap. You'll just have to go without a tie. In my defense I left his dad a message telling him he needs to drop a tie off at school. He never got my message.

At the end of the day, while fixing dinner I ask Riley what happened at school in regards to the tie. He says, "oh, I was just about to get to that," and he begins digging in his bag and coat pockets.

"What?" I ask. "Did they send a note home?"

"Not exactly."

"What are you looking for? What did they give you? Were you the only kid in the entire school without a tie?"

"Just about," he answers, still digging around. "Well, I can't find it, but I got a notice. If I get three notices, I get detention. If I get another three notices I'll get another detention. If I get two detentions I'll get suspended and if I get suspended twice, I'll get expelled! So we need to be careful."

I thought it was so funny he said we. It's more like the mom needs to be careful. I made sure I had a tie when I dropped them off on Sunday. There will be no more notices.

Monday, February 27, 2006

When two people love each other, really love each, but can't seem to get their act together, when do you say enough is enough? The answer: never.

I hope.

Have you ever seen The Mexican? I like that movie.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Crazy Beautiful

This week Brian and I are trying out a new routine for when we have all the kids. I drop them off in the morning and he picks them up after work. It actually works out fairly well. Tuesday night Brian was home by 5:00, when he left work at 4:00 and I was home at 5:30. Perfect. The stress levels are down and we aren’t as cranky when we get home. Last night was a little different because Jordan was added to the mix. So, Brian picks up Jordan, then Riley and Darby, and last Jillian. I was home at the usual time, 5:30, but no one else had made it home yet. I thought that was a little strange. I figured they would be back any minute.

At about 5:45 I received a call from Brian. He had just arrived at his parent’s house to get Jillian and they would be home shortly. “Wow,” I comment, “you just got there? What time did you leave work?”

“At four,” he responds.

“Really? Four? It took you a long time to get there.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, we’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“Okay, bye.”

Alright, I’m fuming. Why in the world would it take him almost twice as long when he’s picking up one more child, who isn’t that much out of the loop? What the hell is going on here? Well, I’m going to approach the matter very delicately when he gets home.

They get home and I welcome everyone with a big smile and continue making dinner. I take my sweet little baby out of her car seat and place her in the bouncy chair in the kitchen. Then very nonchalantly I mention while chopping onions, “maybe I should pick Jordan up when he’s at school. That way it won’t take twice as long for you to get home.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Really. It was just a weird day. You know, traffic and all.”

“Really? Traffic? Traffic was pretty bad at four was it? It seemed fine at five when I left.”

“Well, there was the car chase that happened.”

“Yes, there was the car chase, but that happened in Nampa and that should only effect the last few minutes of your trip. Do you realize I’m holding a knife, Brian? Do you?” I swing the knife in his face. “You better tell me what the hell your hiding before I take this knife and stab it in your gut. I will do it!” I tell him with clenched teeth.

Apparently he made a stop on his way home that was very much out of the way, but he decided to tease me with this information. Basically letting me freak out for his own personal pleasure. Rude!

However, this is how I have been feeling towards him lately. Crazy jealous. I don’t even know why. Nothing has changed in our relationship that would make me act this way and yet, when he talks about how hot some girl on TV is, it makes me want to pick the TV up in some kind of Incredible Hulk fashion and throw it at his head. It used to be that when he mentioned some girl’s hotness I would take a look at her and either agree “yeah, I’d do her” or disagree, “eh, I could take her or leave her”.

Or when he gets his Playboy and flips through the pages, oohing and aahing. I just ignore him or roll my eyes. But these days, I want to take the magazine from his hands, roll it up, and swat him a million times, like someone would do to a puppy who just peed on the floor. I may be losing my mind. I’m so not okay with that.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

You Can't Play With Us

I was driving Riley to have his hair cut the other day. Darby yells out, "slug bug yellow". Riley responds that he isn't playing.

"Whatever, I don't even care. I'll just play with my imaginary friend."

A few minutes go by and Riley yells, "slug bug blue".

"Riley, you said you weren't playing. My friend saw that one."

"How is your friend even going to play? Does she have any points yet?" he asks.


"How is she suppose to get any points?" he says, as if he has her now.

"I'll just use a different voice. Slug bug blue, " she says in a different voice.

"Darby, you can't do that. I can play if I want."

"No Riley, I'm sorry, but you can't play with us."

Normally I might tell Darby she wasn't being very nice, but Riley walked himself right into that one.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006


My friend gave this to me. I like this one so I'll fill it out. If any one else uses it let me know so I can ready what you honestly have to say.

1. Honestly, are you in love right now? Yes!

2. Honestly, what color is your underwear? Pink stripes

3. Honestly, whats on your mind right now? I hate fuel surcharge! (I'm at work)

4. Honestly, what are you doing right now? Filling this out, while I should be working.

5. Honestly, what did you do today?Got up, took a shower, made lunches, packed the baby's diaper bag, got ready, got the kids up, poured cereal, took the kids to daycare, came to work, had coffee, worked a little, had a break with Brian and now this.

6. Honestly, do you think you are attractive? Okay, I have to admit that I do, until I see someone more attractive than me and it makes me feel not so much.

7. Honestly, have you done something bad today? Not really, except I am on the internet while at work. That's a little bit bad.

8. Honestly, do you watch disney channel?No, I don't have cable, but I probably would if I did.

9. Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Nope

10. Honestly, what makes you happy most of the time? Family, my dog, my baby (even though she's my family, I'm just enjoying this baby thing a lot) spending alone time with Brian ( a rare occasion)

11. Honestly, do you bite your nails? Ugh! Yes!

12. Honestly, what is your mood right now? So sleepy! I don't know, I slept all night.

13. Honestly, have you had an eating disorder? No, throwing up is never something I like to do, let alone make myself do it, and I love to eat so much I don't think I could possibly starve myself.

14. Honestly, do you want to see someone this very minute? Yes, I wouldn't mind seeing Brian, but I have about 54 minutes until I see him again.

15. Honestly, do you have a deep dark secret? I'm afraid I don't. I wish I did I would tell it.

16. Honestly, do you hate someone right now? Since I have to answer honestly, I would have to say yes. Hmph!

17. Honestly, who/what do you want to hug right now? My sweet little baby.

18. Honestly, are you loyal? I suppose it depends, when it comes to Brian and the kids-yes.

19. Honestly, are you in denial? I really, really hope not.

20. Honestly, wouldn't you rather be having sex right now? Duh!

21. Honestly, have you ever consumed alcohol? Again, duh!

22. Honestly, do you like someone? Of course, I sort of don't understand the question.

23. Honestly, does anyone like you? God, I hope so!

24. Honestly, is it going anywhere with them? I get it. It better be going somewhere, damn it!

25. Honestly, did you answer all these questions honestly? Yes

Monday, February 20, 2006

My Space

My friend has convinced me to get a My Space account. I actually had one set up but I didn't use it because I really didn't get it. My friend has filled me in on the details, but I only have two friends. So, if you have a My Space account let me know so we can be friends too. Okay? How pathetic! I'm begging for friends. Oh well, it's not the first time. Anyway, seriously let me know.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Lunch Date

I'm having lunch with my friend from high school this afternoon. I feel like I've known her forever, but it's only been since 9th grade. Which is becoming more and more like forever with each passing year. The last time I talked to her was about 2 years ago. I wasn't pregnant, I didn't have a baby. She didn't even know about Jillian until a month ago.

She is one of the friends I'm always in touch with. No matter how many years it's been we always seem to hook up with each other. There's never any animosity that one of us never calls the other, just one day one of us will email the other and say "hey". This is regardless of the condition we left things off. We could have not been talking because of some huge disagreement. We could have been extremely mad at each two years ago. Or at the very least annoyed, but it never matters. We pick up like we had been talking non-stop the entire couple of years.

Today we'll probably get completely caught up on each other's lives, gossip about our other friends from high school, ask each other if we're still in touch with so and so and what the hell are they doing and maybe end it with a little shopping. And then we might email every so often as we have been and maybe have a few more lunches or maybe even go out for a drink one night and after awhile we'll drift apart. And two or three years will go by and I'll wonder what the hell is Sarah up to? I'll email her and our friendship will be rekindled once again in probably the exact same way.

Is this healthy? I have no idea what a fucking healthy friendship is, these are the only types I have and to tell you the truth, I like them. I like that I have friends that no matter what will always be my friend, regardless of the time that passes by. Guys always talk about friendship in terms of "if you ever waking up with a dead hooker in your bed who would you call?". I would probably call Sarah. Who would inevitably get me in much more trouble than I was in before, at which point we would have to call Tiffany to help us out of the more trouble, who would most likely end up throwing her hands in the air telling us we're screwed. And we would be and somehow it would all work out and we could all look back at the entire incident and laugh about it over a beer, some kind of mixed drink, and a vodka and diet pepsi. Until we the next time.

I think the high school friendships have to be my favorite. They're always so much more shallow and, well, high school like, than my adult friendships. And as much as I did not like high school it's nice to think that not only did I survive, but I came out with a few friendships still intact and that seems silly to me in some way. Why are we still friends? It doesn't seem possible and yet, here I am, blowing drying my hair and dressing the baby to go have lunch.

Friday, February 17, 2006

To Be Healthy

Brian forced me to work out today. That's right. Against my will. I was going to skip today and just work, but no, he forced me to walk the treadmill. How you ask? Well, we have to sign up to use the equipment, basically reserving your machine for a specified time. Brian took it upon himself to sign me up for a treadmill, which normally I find very sweet. However, I was going to skip today and since he signed me up on his computer I was unable to take my name off. And it's rude not to unschedule yourself if you aren't going to make it. It's been very busy lately.

So, I was a good girl. I worked out, even though I was not in the mood. Of course, it probably didn't hurt me. These last 9 pounds I'm wanting to lose are kicking my ass. I don't know why. I know it can't be from the three sugar cookies I've had this week or the countless pieces of chocolate or the hamburger and fries I had for lunch or the few or five or six beers I've drank in the last week or the Dove ice cream bar I plan to eat in a few minutes. No, I don't think those things could possibly be holding me back. In fact, I think it's from all the cream and sugar I put in my coffee. At least that's what I try and tell Brian. He doesn't believe me for some reason.

Happy Friday!

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Give Away

Sometimes, I feel like I may be giving Brian a bad rap. Yes, he loves to torture me with his bossiness and his one liners, but it’s not like he goes about unscathed. I do a little torture myself.
One moment in particular comes to mind, mainly because it is mean to give away plotlines, but I felt I had to. As you know, Brian and I watch TV shows on DVD rather than on TV. One series we have been hooked on is Six Feet Under. We have seen every season up until this last and final season. We’re still waiting for it to be released.

One Saturday morning I was reading the paper. Okay, I was reading the entertainment section of the paper when I came across an article critiquing the series finale of Six Feet Under. I decided to read it because, really, how much could they possibly give away? Well, apparently it’s a lot because I was so upset with myself after reading the article. (If I give anything away to you now, well that really isn’t my problem. I’m about to write a major plot twist, or at least what I believe to be a major twist, of this series. Read at your own risk.) So, what I read is one of the main characters, Nate, had died a few episodes before. Well, since we hadn’t been watching any of the final season, I did not know he died. Now I know he dies and I’m freaking pissed. Why does he die? Well, the season we’re watching he has a brain tumor, or something equally horrible. Does he die from his tumor? I don’t know.

I decide I won’t tell Brian what I read. That would just be cruel. I keep it to myself and we continue to watch Season 3. (Season 5 is the final series.) After watching the end of Season 3, which ends with him going into brain surgery, I can keep this secret no longer. I need to talk about it. How does he die? There’s a whole season before he kicks it, so it can’t be from the surgery. I tell him that Nate dies and boy is he mad at me. Asking why I had to go and tell him and why would I do something so horrible. Well, I just don’t think it’s fair that I know and he doesn’t. I didn’t want to read it, just like he didn’t want me to tell him.

The only thing I know at this point is that he doesn’t die from the tumor. I guess the surgery was a great success, a miracle if you will, and the tumor is completely gone. I have no idea how he dies and now I have to wait until Season 5 is released. Rude!

Anyway, we’re hoping Season 5 is going to be good because Seasons 3 and 4 were just okay. Nothing like the first two, which were so good we would watch three or four shows in a row.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Impressed or Scared to Death?

I'm not sure what my reaction to this incident should be. On Super Bowl Sunday we spent the day at Brian's parent's house to eat food, drink beer, and watch the game (if your into that). The first two are really the only reason I show up. Well, that and I enjoy the company. Anyway, this year was especially nice outside so the kids were able to spend the entire afternoon playing football and running around-outside, not in the house. It was spectacular. Not worrying about rambunctious kids flying around, screaming, annoying us. We hardly saw them except to eat dinner.

On the way home, before the game was over because the baby decided to scream her fool head off the entire time we were there, we found out that Jordan had "started a fight with some teenagers". Darby, you need to elaborate a bit. What does it mean "Jordan started a fight with teenagers"?

From what I could tell from the story (as told by five year olds) was that Jordan was playing outside a little bit a way from the others, which he is apt to do, (not because he's being left out, but because he some how strays from the herd), when some kids came around and I think that Jordan must have yelled something at them. Now, I know your thinking that it's very unlikely that a five year old would voluntarily yell at 13 year olds, but I would not ever put that past Jordan. I have seen him yell at other kids before.

This was an invitation to the older boys to start picking on Jordan. Now, you might start feeling sorry for the poor boy about now, because who wouldn't feel sorry for a little kid who is being called a "monkey with a stick" by older bullies, but I wouldn't get out your hankies out quite yet. Because even though they were calling him names and his older cousins were coming out to tell everyone to cool it, Jordan continued to yell at the older kids. From the telling of the incident, Jordan was very embarrassed, but he continued to defend himself. In fact, Darby even told us that he tried to use his bazooka on them. (Which is homemade out of wood and black piping.) He then added that Darby was the one who handed him the bazooka.

So here I am imaging this situation. There's a little boy who was probably playing with his wooden toy sword out in the yard on this lovely afternoon. Most likely practicing his "moves". Yes, he has moves, which he is always showing off, especially when he's outside. Along come a couple of boys, walking down the street. They might have said something to him first, but again, I'm a little fuzzy on who started what. So, they may have made a comment on his "moves" that he's so proud of and in response, Jordan probably told them where to stick it. No one should be making fun of his moves. They are moves and he could use these moves on the boys at any moment. They should probably be afraid.

Now the gauntlet has been thrown. The boys are calling him names, remember the monkey with a stick comment, and laughing at him, which I'm sure he finds very embarrassing. Then the other kids start to realize that Jordan is arguing with these kids, that happen to be much older than them and at least Darby tries to help, though she's a little bit scared. So she hands him his bazooka, which is a much larger and more powerful weapon than any sword. And I'm sure Jordan held up that bazooka thinking these boys would finally leave him alone, but they probably didn't. The older cousins are telling everyone to stop, but Jordan must defend his honor. He is going to be a knight when he grows up. People can not treat him so rudely. I imagine that it probably ended with older boys growing tired of this little game and eventually leaving, though how the entire incident ended is also a mystery.

All I know is it was so hilarious to hear them tell this story and you could tell Jordan was mad. But as funny as it is, it's a little scary to think that he might start a fight with the wrong older kid and the outcome may not be funny at all. And yet, it's impressive that the size of these boys did not hinder his resolve to fight back and stand up for himself. I'm just not sure what think.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Secret Exposed

Okay, I can finally divulge my secret Valentine Day surprise for Brian. Last night after work, I stayed late so that I could decorate his office. I bought a bouquet of balloons, and sprinkled his desk with his favorite chocolates. I set up Valentine heart lights, which he did plug in this morning and threw rose petals and confetti shaped like lips all about. It was so much fun. Probably not fun to clean up, but it was sure fun to decorate.

Also, he lied. He did get me something. Every year our office delivers carnations and the money is donated to a local hospital. They call it Karnations for Kids. Anyway, I was delivered a dozen carnations. They are lovely. I was actually delivered 14, but the dozen was from Brian. He finally fessed up to it.

I don't care if Valentine's Day was created by Hallmark. I love it!

Happy Valentine's Day

I hope everyone has a great Valentine's Day whether you're single or not. I intend to. Brian is insisting that he hasn't bought me anything. He said he was going to go to the store last night to pick something up but I told him it didn't matter. He doesn't have to get me anything for Valentine's Day. He can take me to lunch. And we decided to take the afternoon off. Just to hang out. Just us. That sounds perfect enough for me. Besides, we could go shopping and he could buy me something. I would love that.

I want to tell you what I did for his Valentine Day surprise, but I'm afraid he might read this before he gets it, so I'll wait until it's safe to tell.

Have a good day!

Friday, February 10, 2006

"Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole." Roger Caras

When my dog dreams she sounds like she's underwater. It's the craziest thing. I almost expect to look over at her and see bubbles floating out of her mouth.

Girl Next Door

Oh my God, I love this song by Saving Jane. It is the perfect song. I always hated all those popular, pretty, perfect girls in high school.

Small town homecoming queen
Shes the star in this scene
Theres no way to deny shes lovely
Perfect skin perfect hair
Perfumed hearts everywhere
Tell myself that inside shes ugly
Maybe I'm just jealous
I can't help but hate her
Secretly I wonder if my boyfriend wants to date her

At least I thought they were popular and perfect, but no one really knows how perfect ones life really is or isn't. In fact, I believe our prom queen was pregnant at the time of prom and shortly after we graduated she moved down South somewhere for a couple of months before returning with a baby. Of course, I saw her at my high school reunion and she is not doing shabby, even now. It's not like having the baby ruined her chances of living her suburban house wife life. No, she still looks really good and pretty and skinny and tall and now I even think she has bigger boobs. Go figure.

She is the prom queen
I'm in the marching band
She is a cheerleader
I'm sittin in the stands
She gets the top bunk I'm sleepin on the floor
Shes Miss America and I'm just the girl next door

I wasn't in the marching band, but I was definitely sitting in the stands. Actually I rarely even did that. I was more like the kid behind the stands smoking the cigarettes. Not literally. I didn't smoke (at least not until after high school), but I hung out with people who smoked and they would never do it behind the stands. Much too easy to get caught that way.

Senior class president
She must be heaven sent
She was never the last one standing
A backseat debutante
Everything that you want
Never to harsh or too demanding
Maybe I'll admit it
I'm a little bitter
Everybody loves her but I just wanna hit her

There were a few girls I would have liked to hit back then. Not so much anymore. I think I'm over it. Maybe. Okay, I'm still a little bitter I didn't have this wonderful high school experience. I wish I would have been more involved and not so--drugged up, perhaps.

But not just any drugs. No, I wasn't one that just liked to sit around all day and smoke pot. In fact, I hated smoking pot. I was always the sober one in the room when everyone else was sitting in the proverbial smoke filled circle. Ugh, I hated that smell. No, my drug of choice was the one that literally kept you high. And skinny. And paranoid. And all those other lovely side effects that come with a two week drug binge. After awhile that nasty drug got old and thankfully I quit before it completely consumed me. But, I did like the occasional hallucinogen. The ones that took you on a little trip to Care Bear Land. That was sure fun. Of course, I hear there were other places you could go. Places that weren't as nice as Care Bear Land. I never wanted to visit those places.

I'm so glad I grew out of that little phase. I think it's one of the reasons high school wasn't fun.

She is the prom queen
I'm in the marching band
She is a cheerleader I'm sittin in the stands
She gets the top bunk I'm sleepin on the floor
Shes Miss America and I'm just the girl next door
Oh an I'm just the girl next door

I don't know why I'm feelin sorry for myself
I spend all my time wishin that I was someone else

I definitely wished I was someone else. All the time. I would day dream about being one of those girls. There's something Brian always says about wishing and I really hate it so I'm not going to quote him, but it's true. You can't wish for something impossible. I just was not one of those girls and will never be one and I'm finally okay with that. I'm finally happy and content with my life the way it is and I wouldn't change a thing. Though, when I get around those girls, I still feel the same dopey way I did in high school.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

You Need To Make 8 Cups of Coffee Tomorrow, Not 6

This was demanded of me last night. Apparently six cups of coffee isn't good enough for someone. I only made six yesterday, when I usually make 8. The only reason I started making eight was because someone's mom was coming over in the morning and she would have some. Since she wasn't coming over yesterday I thought I would cut it back down to 6. Boy, that did not go over well. I hear him yell up to me, "thanks for leaving me 3 cups of coffee out of EIGHT!"

"What are you talking about? I left you three out of six. Not eight."

Now he's spoiled. Now he wants eight cups made in the morning. What a brat.

I have more pics of the baby. I know, your totally sick of her, but I'm not so there.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

"All the lies that you told, just to ease your own soul"

I was listening to these words when I experienced my first, real incident of road rage. I usually don’t even deal with the morning time traffic because Brian always drives. He’s the one cursing at and gesturing to the idiot drivers that seem to consume the roads. We decided to drive separately this morning and I was taking Riley and Darby to school and Brian was taking Jillian to Grandma’s.

I’m driving along, going the speed limit, minding my own business and listening to Ashlee Simpson. You know for Darby. Darby loves Ashlee Simpson. So I’m listening to the music, singing along when we approach an intersection. I start to slow down because the car in front of me has their brake lights on. We’re still pretty far from the intersection, but if you want to slow down three blocks before you make a right turn-whatever! I can handle that, but we progressively get slower and slower until we practically stop. Hey lady! There is a green light up there. It is green! It’s not red, it’s not a stop sign. It is a GREEN light. Get moving! Still she stops then goes, stops then goes, finally we actually get to the intersection and she completely stops. The light is still green, which I’m amazed because we just spent three minutes stopping and going. At this point I am uber pissed. I am yelling and cussing and stopping hard and finally when she is just sitting at the green light I start honking my horn. “Go you old hag!” I’m yelling. Finally she goes and I can pass that old grandma! Ugh! I’m so mad! Idiot!

I’m sure your wondering how I know she’s an old woman. Well, she was driving a brand new, shiny, white Nissan Maxima. And her license plate read Grandma Betty or something like that. Anyway, I don’t even feel bad for honking at an old woman. You might think I would, but I don’t. I feel bad that in all my years of driving, I have never, ever honked at anyone. Ever! I feel bad that Darby thought all of my yelling was part of the song we were listening to. I feel bad that songs Darby listens to have curse words. I feel bad that she said she was going to tell Brian we almost got into a wreck. We didn’t. I just almost had to ram this old woman with my car. That is what I feel bad about.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

May I Help You?

The other day I was standing in the hall at work talking with some male coworkers. Why I mentioned they were male, I'm not sure. But they were and are males. Any how, Brian's boss, Chuck, walks past us and into another coworkers office. We didn't hear anything when he walked in, but we continued our discussion on Pit Bulls. We were talking about Pit Bulls because there have been several news stories lately about Pit Bull attacks. I was telling these men that I have a Pit Bull and she is the damn sweetest thing to ever grace the Earth. I'm pretty certain she wouldn't hurt a fly. I never worry about her with the kids, or even the baby for that matter, and I hate hearing these stories about crazy Pit Bulls. So there we are talking, talking, talking for about ten minutes or so.

Next thing we hear is Ross exclaim, "what are you doing? How long have you been there? How much porn did you see?" He was talking to Chuck, who just sat in Ross's office for ten minutes not saying a word. It was the strangest thing. Why would you not make a noise or mention your presence? We were all in shock. I didn't even think that Ross was in there and that was the reason for the silence. Whatever dude. I told Brian he and his boss make a good match. Both oddballs.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

That's It!

Alright, I’m mad now! I need something from somewhere that I won’t disclose quite yet because it is super secret and I can’t afford to purchase it from my budgeted checking account. I figure I’ll just take one of my credit cards, just this once, to make the purchase. I go upstairs to where all of the credit cards were stacked only to find they were no longer there. He hid them from me. Hid them!

I rummage furiously through the house looking in all the places I suspect he may hide something, which isn’t exactly easy. Especially since I only have about a half hour until I leave. I look in places that would fit all the cards together, easily accessible to Brian and places that I would never be in. Like the filing cabinet for the bills, on top of the fridge, on the top shelf of the closet, in textbooks. Nothing. They’re here somewhere! Damn it.

Fine! I’ll wait until he gets home and go through his wallet although it’s highly doubtful he would carry that many cards around with him. Maybe he has one or two. No, he has one of his but none of mine and I was tempted to just take his card and try and use it, but that’s risky. Sometimes the clerks check the back of the card for the signature. And I didn’t want to try the “oops, I grabbed the wrong card. This is my boyfriends card, I left mine at home,” trick which usually works, except once they wouldn’t let me use it. Rude! Anyway, I don’t like to use that very often since that one time.

I finally just come out and tell him I need a certain amount of money so I need one of my cards. Why? Why do you need the money? I inform him it’s none of his business. He starts asking if I owe people money or if I made a bet with someone. I stated that I didn’t do any of those things and I don’t even need cash, just a card. He told me I was hopeless. That may be true, but I need the money. He said he would leave me his debit card and I could withdraw the money from his account but whatever I’m getting him better be good. As if. Why does he think I’m getting him something?

So I told him that Jordan and I would have a nice time shopping at Wal-Mart before we head over to his parent’s house. He told me I better not be buying him anything at Wal-Mart. I told him he was a snob, when I say things like that he says I’m rude and it shouldn’t matter where the gifts are bought. It’s a little different when the gift is for him. What a dork. Anyway, I’m not even getting him anything. How presumptuous.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold

Friday, February 03, 2006

RE: Termination of Jolynn Newell

Dear Jolynn Newell,

Due to severe cost cutting measures the company has been forced to look very closely at absenteeism. After looking back at your records we found several occasions of phony illness. There were many incidents of you calling in on Fridays and Mondays which we believe to have been not in the best interest of BC.

As you know from the most recent employee guide, it was clearly stated that we have zero tolerance for false absences. It is with deep regret that we are issuing this formal notification of your termination with BC. Contact human resources to schedule an exit interview within two business days of your receipt of this notification.

You are to gather all your personal belongings from your office, or work space, and leave work immediately. Failure to do so will result in even more serious complications with regard to your employment status.

Transportation Manager

That is what I found on my desk yesterday afternoon when I returned from working out. I didn’t believe it, it's got to be a complete fake for so many reasons. First, there's no signature, second we have this thing called YTO, which completely sucks because your allotted a certain amount of days to take off through out the year. This includes sick days and vacation days. So if I did call in sick, which I don't because I don't want to waste my days, I wouldn't get in any kind of trouble. Plus, I just took 6 weeks of maternity leave. I didn't really need to be calling in anyway. Third, my manager would never leave a note like this on my desk.

So I call Brian and ask if he left some phony, suppose to be funny note on my desk. He said no as I imagined he would. Then he tells me I should ask Dee if anyone was in my office because she has been there and would probably know. Alright, Dee won't lie to me. She's one of the sweetest, kindest people I know. I go outside my office and find Dee. "Dee," I say, "did you see anyone come by my office in the last hour or so?"

"No, she answers, but Carol was looking for you." Carol, my manager, my boss. My heart instantly sank to my stomach. Brian is going to be so unhappy if I get fired. He just put all of our finances in order. Plus, I'll have to stay home. Our lives will be ruined until I find another job.

I walk into Carol's office and sort of throw the note at her. "Did you leave this note on my desk," I say a little forcefully, because I was going to be so mad if I was fired for calling in sick, which I don't do.

She smiled and chuckled. She had not left me the note and someone played a very horrible trick on me. I knew exactly who it was and I was a little pissed that Dee was in on it too. I proceeded to go show everyone in my department the horrible prank that was played on me when Brian strolled around all smug. Some people thought it was more mean than funny, I think I'm one of them. And it turns out the Brian told Dee to tell me when I got back that Carol was looking for me so she really had nothing to do with.

Luckily, I'm in a department where office pranks are the norm so everyone is plotting to avenge my honor. I have complete faith that it will be really good.

All I can say about the incident is Brian got everyone all riled up on a boring Friday afternoon. He added a little excitement to the 4th floor.


Don't you love getting reactions out of people? I do. I love it when someone has to respond because of something I do or say. Especially when they go on and on about how miserable and hateful I must be because of two little words I said to someone else that they overheard. Two words and their little feelings get hurt and they have to vindicate themselves by trying to believe that my life is somehow unhappy because of what I said. I guess I wanted them to overhear those words, but if someone was so happy and so in touch with their own perfect life I would have to wonder why anything I might say or do would make them so upset that they would have to tell people about me. I don't know. I guess that just goes along with living a life that is and always has been a lie. Of course, I'm reacting now, right? By writing this. Oh well. Hopefully the cycle ends with me. Because that's how I like it. To have the last say, to be the last one standing.

And I do have everything I want at this point in time. Okay, I really want a new Audi but Brian says I haven't paid my dues yet. I haven't earned my Audi. But, besides the fact that I've been a little depressed the past couple of months I'm very happy to know that I have wonderful, healthy, bright, funny, and beautiful children that are that way because Brian and I have nurtured them to be that way. They aren't that way because they're treated second class to our lives, they're that way because we treat them with respect and love. I'm very happy that I go to bed at night and wake up in the morning with someone I care deeply for. Someone who, in their sleep, turns over and puts their arms around me. Someone who wakes up and kisses me several times before one of us gets out of bed. I'm happy that I have a job that maybe is just a boring office job, but the people that work there go out of their way to be friendly and helpful because I go out of my way to be friendly and helpful. Friends that do just little things that make me smile. Like when I asked if someone had any chocolate because I really needed a piece of chocolate and they didn't. But they went over to the vending machine and bought me a little bag of candy.

This is my life and to judge my life on two words that I said, mainly for the exact reaction I received, is pretty ridiculous. So from now on I will acknowledge people for who they are and what they stand for. Of course, when they overhear this they might have their little feelings hurt once again because they probably won't like what they hear. It hurts to hear the truth.

There's my reaction. Now I have posted pictures of those wonderful kids I was telling you about so go look at them. Now!

Thursday, February 02, 2006


Sometimes at lunch I eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. I can’t help it. Sometimes people talk about the weirdest things. I guess not so much weird, but things that people talk about every day that some how seem unusual. Maybe because I would never talk about such things. I often wonder if people overhear mine and Brian’s conversations. If so, do they find us weird? Annoying? Funny? Brian says probably, but I don’t know. I think we’re pretty normal. I don’t think our conversations are too off the wall.

Yesterday at lunch two people were talking about Brokeback Mountain. I have never seen the movie, I’m not too sure if I want to. Not because I’m a close minded ass, but because it doesn’t sound like the type of movie I would be interested in. Anyway, I heard the woman say something about the movie and her companion say that “they won’t be getting my money.” She went on to tell him that Kate McGwire, a DJ on a local radio show, hated the movie. Absolutely hated it. I don’t know why I found this conversation interesting, and even now as I write this, I’m wondering why I’m writing about this, but I listen to Mike and Kate in the morning and she hates the movie for completely different reasons than why, I’m almost certain, they aren’t going to see the movie.

She thought it was suppose to be some epic love story and when she saw the movie she was very disappointed. I don’t know, because, again, I’ve never seen the movie, but I thought it was suppose to be some epic love story as well. I’m just confused about what the heck the movie is about? Has anyone seen it yet? Is it a love story or not? Let me know. I may change my mind about watching it. If it’s a love story that’s something I could be on board with, if it’s just some western count me out.

I know this post has absolutely no point and I apologize for that. But, I’m going to ramble a bit longer. I also found it funny that they referenced Mike and Kate in their conversation. I do that too and I hate that I do that. I hate myself when I start out a conversation with Brian, “you know what I heard on Mike and Kate this morning? It was so funny…” Or when I actually quote Kate on her opinion on a certain matter, sort of like the lady above. What kind of sad life am I leading that I quote someone I don’t even know? How depressing. But seriously Kate is fricking hilarious. Sometimes I laugh so hard I cry and I guess that’s why I have to talk about her, but it still makes me a little depressed about the situation. As if I’m living vicariously through someone else. I want to live vicariously through me.

I guess it’s okay, because apparently there are a lot of people out there who do that, quote and discuss local celebrities. I’m just going with the flow and since I don’t keep up and very many current events, because I find them depressing, I do this. Otherwise, life is pretty good. I’m recovering from that post partum depression thing pretty well. At least I think I am. I feel much more calm about most things. There are some things that still set me off, but I think they’re going to make my skin crawl until they’re resolved. Out of my hands. I’m excited for Super Bowl Sunday. Not because I give a crap about football necessarily but I like the food and drinks that are involved in the watching of the game. I’m sure it’s going to be fun.

I have also been reading my William Faulkner book while walking the treadmill. When I first started the book I thought I didn’t like it much, but I have since changed my mind. I must have been going through a thing when I started it last time.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

He Was In the Hallway

It was a cold, dark Sunday night. Alright, that’s not entirely true. I don’t remember if it was cold or not, but it could have been. We had just finished dinner. The kids had left for the week leaving just Brian, the baby, and myself. We were watching Dateline on TV, as well as 2 other shows during the commercials. I was doing laundry, putting the clothes away, and trying to get little Jilly ready for bed. A usual Sunday night.

The back of the house is pretty much deserted on the nights we don’t have any kids. The only time we go back there is for me to do laundry and Brian to use the bathroom, which he seems to do quite excessively. It’s dark back there, but never scary. Why should it be? The only access into the house would be through the garage or one of the windows. I’m never worried that someone could sneak in and hide.

I had just changed Jillian’s clothes and her diaper and was walking back to the girls’ room to throw the diaper in the diaper pail. It’s right near the door so I don’t even have to switch on the light to see. I just step my foot on the pedal, hold my breath and throw the diaper in the bucket. I do it several times a day there’s nothing to it.

This time was a little bit different. I stepped on the pedal, held my breath, threw the diaper in the bucket and I was about to whip around and go back to the front of the house when something stopped me. I can’t say why I hesitated, but something didn’t seem right. I heard something. The sound was out of place in the back of the house. Before I turned around to walk down the hall I glanced up and scanned the bedroom. Do I hear breathing? The bedroom was dark but there were no unusual shadows. Nothing seemed out of place, yet something is different.

I shrugged my shoulders and turned into the hallway when I tripped and in the process realized that what ever I just tripped on, which was a pretty big what ever, just took a chunk out of my thumb. I was panicked. There was a person crouched in front of the door and I had just tripped on them. Their fingernail just injured my thumb. Oh my God, someone is in the house!

Of course, it was no one who wasn’t suppose to be there. Just Brian, scaring the crap out of me as usual. “Bastard!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to scare you.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Because I think it’s funny.”

“Well, it’s not. You just injured me. That’s forensic evidence you know. If I died they would have evidence against you.”

“No, that just proves I defended myself against you. The skin under the nails is proof of defense, not of harm.” Since we are both experts on forensics from watching the CSI series and the CSI: New York series, I knew he was right.


That’s twice he has made me to believe I might die. The other time was a couple of years ago. He’s mean.