It’s almost officially Christmas Eve in the central time zone.  I have very mixed feelings about the holiday this year.  I’ve put myself through so many changes in the past 3 months – positive, GOOD changes – that to be honest, my 40th birthday (last week) and Christmas itself really kind of snuck up on me.  I don’t have a Christmas tree up, no presents wrapped and stacked, nothing.  This is the first time in as long as I can remember that I didn’t have SOME kind of Christmas tree up.  Very kind of sad and bizarre.

My dad called me last week and wanted to know if I was coming to St. Louis for the holiday.  (oh, my company shuts down from just before Christmas until the first working day after the 1st of January and gives us the time off paid without us having to burn our vacation or sick days – its a heavenly benefit of my company)  There was a lot of rumors that they were going to ask us to work over the holiday because we were expecting our contract funding from our customer by the end of last week.  That didn’t happen, so now it won’t happen until after the first of the year (the customer is shut down as well).  However, not knowing for sure until Friday means I couldn’t book a plane ticket, and holy lord, the prices are ridiculous.  So, I called my dad this morning and told him that I wasn’t coming home for Christmas.  He understood.  I could hear my mom mumbling in the background, but he deflected it for me.

After Christmas, the parents are going to head out to their lake house in Kentucky with the kids.  I am only about an hour to hour and a half away from Nashville, and so are they – so we are going to meet up in Nashville in about a week so I can see my Monkey and pick my Terrorist up to come home with me.  I have a lot to do between now and then to get the place ready for the Terrorist’s arrival.  I’m looking forward to her being here with me.

Tomorrow I am going to venture out.  Insanity, I know.  But I want to get a new wireless router for the house and treat myself to a manicure and pedicure.  I haven’t had a pedicure since August!  I was due to go for one when I broke my foot.  As long as they are gentle with the massaging on the stupid foot that’s a little mangled, I’ll be fine.  I have to go.  Can’t stand it any more.  Then pick up the stuff to make salsa and mexican food for Christmas dinner.

I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas.  And I leave you with one of my favorite Christmas carols, and my very favorite version of it.

At 9:34pm (pacific standard time), on December 17, 1969, I came into this world kicking and screaming.  40 years later, I’m still kicking and screaming.  Not much has changed.

Well, not as strange as, say, the Greatful Dead have been on. Actually not strange at all . I just like that title. So there. pfffft

AND YES, I KNOW, MY COMMENTS ARE BROKEN. I DON’T HATE ANY ONE (or, I hate everyone, depends on how you look at it) AND I’M TRYING TO FIX IT. Until then? Please send all your love and admiration to dreimer{at}gmail{dot}com.

So, the movers, Bubba and Jefe (I am not making that up – I couldn’t) came on Wednesday and packed the stuff of mine that I wanted to take to Huntsville. I made one last dinner for my kid (taco soup, SO DAMN GOOD) then proceeded to get shitty drunk and order DUMB STUFF from iTunes. YAY!

So, consequently, my 5am start to Huntsville was more like 8:30, but whatevs. Don’t judge me. LOL

I figured as soon as we got on the road Satan would calm down and relax. Oh no. For 350 miles of my 400 mile trip, she paced, and whined, and panted. And paced some more. Literally about 50 miles away, after I crossed into Alabama, she finally wore out and fell asleep on the seat next to me. I thought about waking her up to be mean….but that’s just not right. She slept for about 20 minutes like that, then was back up to pacing, panting and whining.

Got checked into the hotel, called my friend Renee and told her where I was and she came and fetched me for dinner. Mexican food. I don’t think the waitress was even done greeting us before we both demanded ordered a margarita on the rocks, no salt.  We chatted and caught up, then she ran me by a Publix for a few things for the hotel (omgomgomgomg they sell Yuengling beer here – I officially LOVE Alabama now) then dropped me back at the hotel.

Where I found Satan greeting me at the door.  Which was odd because when I left she was in her crate.  She managed to unhinge the door and get free.  Today?  In the bathroom with the door shut.  Dumbass.

I cracked open a beer and sat down and nearly cried from the exhaustion.  I got about half that beer down and that was it.  I flat passed out cold.  So tired.  Of course Satan barked at every noise she heard all night.  I wanted to KILL HER.

After work today (which has been low key because its my first day and all yo) I am headed over to go look at a town house for rent, then picking up dinner and heading back to the hotel.  Plan to just chill with the dog and my beers and my internet.  Because I miss this SO MUCH:

I *almost* forgot I have a blog. Bah, I’ve not been in the mood for blogging. It’s not that I haven’t had stuff to write about. Maybe its because I have had TOO MUCH stuff to write about. I can’t keep things straight. I hate to just ramble on here, and I truly don’t have a compulsive need to post something every single day. So, because of that, it’s been a while. *sigh*

Things are moving along on the moving front. Not as quickly as I’d like, but they are moving. My first day in Huntsville is a week from today. SEVEN DAYS!! And I still haven’t found a place to live, the Terrorist is still convinced I am ruining her life and is not coming with me right away, I have no idea when my last day in Hell actually is, I have to pack and meet the movers to take my stuff, AND make that 7 hour car drive with Satan next Thursday. Jesus. I’m tired just WRITING that sentence.

I am still waiting to hear on the most perfect house EVAR. The owners are taking forever to decide if I can rent it or not. Just make a damn decision already. This is not rocket science for fucks sake. Either I’m in or not. And if not? That’s fine (well, not FINE, but I can certainly live with it), just let me know so I can make other arrangements. When I found this house, I quit looking. At this point I’ll end up in an apartment if I have to go elsewhere – which I hate the thought of, but whatever. It’s a LOT cheaper, that’s for sure!!!

I told the Terrorist this morning that I don’t appreciate her treating my house like a hotel that she just comes to for showers and sleep. Oh, and an ATM. She asked me for money this morning – the gall. She has done NOTHING around the house in the way of her chores this week and really thought I was just gonna fork money over to her. She got all pissy with me about it when I said no. I told her to mooch off her friends for a while. I was tired of her mooching off me. That got one of her AWESOME eyeroll-hip cock-attitude-hand movements. I yelled at her, she dissolved into tears and asked me “Why are you so mean???”.

This is why some animals eat their young. Because if they don’t, they turn into 15 year old demons.

So, there is my super rushed, probably forgetting more than half of what I want to say, update. Please gather your belongings and move along to the next blog in your feed reader.

It’s no secret here that I love LOVE the band MUSE.

Let me show you why.

Supermassive Black Hole live ( you twighlight heads should recognize it – it was played during the baseball scene)

Take A Bow (bitch!)

Get Bit by the Hysteria

One of my very favorites – Assassin

You Guitar Hero fans will know this one:

And my very favorite Muse song. A heart achingly beautiful song of longing and loss, Unintended.

Bottom line.  LISTEN TO THIS FUCKING BAND.  SERIOUSLY.

That is all.

In the past 2 weeks, I’ve been bombarded on this blog with spam.  Spam for peen medicine.  Make it bigger, make it harder, make the hard last longer…..but all about the peen.  WTH? I don’t have a peen.  I like the peen, but I don’t have one.

I looked and found that for some reason, my spam blocker add in was just gone.  I have no idea what happened to it, but it was gone.  Stupid spammers.

Spammers should really try and target their trash more appropriately.  Say, like, spam for SHOES on this blog.

Yesterday my ability to deal with the level of pain in my foot by the end of the work day, after not being able to be off it, or keep it elevated all day, was shot to hell.  I was trying to deal with it, without getting more pain meds, but I just couldn’t do it.  By the time I left work each day I was so sore and miserable (and grumpy and whiny to boot), so I called the doctor’s office.  I asked for more pain meds.  The nurse who took my call took down what I had been taking (vicodin and 800mg ibuprofen), and said she’d send the request to my doctor.

I called the pharmacy a bit later to see if I had a script waiting for me ~ and hum diggity, I did.  I didn’t think to ask what it was, I was just happy there was something there waiting for me.  Although, I did have the thought that if all he called in for me was more ibuprofen, I was going to cut someone.

Got to the pharmacy after work and gave them my name.  The pharmacy MANAGER (this is important to remember in a minute) gave me the bag and was ringing me up while I inspected it to see what I had been given.

Propoxyphene.  (pronounced pro-pox-eh-feen)

I asked him what the propoxyphene was and he looked me dead in the face and said, “I have no idea what that is.  Hell, I can’t even pronounce it!”

OH.  MY.  GOD.  He’s the MANAGER, of the PHARMACY, for fucks sake.

He turned to the pharmacy tech, who appeared to be about 25 years old, and asked her what it was.  He asked by showing her the bag, since he couldn’t even pronounce it.  She kind of rolled her eyes a bit, looked at me and smiled a little.  “It’s the generic for Darvocet”.

Oh, okay.  Groovy.  I know what Darvocet is.  It’s helping quite a bit actually, and doesn’t completely screw up my head like the vicodin does.  Good grief, there are 3 days of work last week that I have nearly no recollection of because of my trip on the vicodin train.

The Cub Scouts at work were pleased that I quit taking the vicodin.  It was freaking them out a little bit.  It caused me to withdraw and just sit at my desk and not speak to ANYONE.  Anyone that has known me for more than 5 seconds knows that it is not like me to be so quiet.  In fact, one of them told me “We’re glad you are back.  It was really weirding us out a bit earlier this week.”  Ha!

I go back next Wednesday to see the (very cute) foot doctor and we’ll see where I go from there.  Further treatments range from (worst case scenario) surgery to (best case scenario) another 2 months in the heavy, stupid ortho boot.  Somewhere in between those two options is the option for them to hard cast my foot and lower leg.  We’ll see.  He’s going to x-ray it again, and possibly MRI my foot.  He wants a better look at the ligament damage I did when I fell.  The broken bones are aligned and will heal fine.  He’s far more concerned with the ligament that is potentially torn.  Blargh. So, we’ll see then what our next move is.  Hopefully it’s just the boot for another 2 months.  Not ideal, but of the three options he discussed, it’s the best possibility because I can at least take it off to sleep and shower, and if I get an itch.

Oh, also?  I think the interview I had on Tuesday went okay.  There was one question they asked that I simply couldn’t answer because they were asking me to describe my personal experience with something I actually have never done before, but I think I danced around it enough and made it sound all like “Well, gee whiz, I’ve never done that before, but I’m eager to learn and I pick skills like that up very quickly.”  OH, and they are just now moving to the same purchasing software that we’ve been using for 4 years.  It is a horrible piece of software and they are experiencing the same growing pains and glitches we did 4 years ago when it was forced on us here.  I was able to solve a problem she was having and was banging her head against a wall about for 2 months.  Heh.  Sweet.  I’m hoping that helps.  Ya know?  =)

I woke this morning with the Terrorist texting me – at 8:00am.  Like, in the morning.  My first thought this morning was literally, “Oh, what the hell now?”.  She wanted to know when I wanted to “go”.

“Go where?  It’s 8:00 freaking AM!  You woke me up.”

“Sorry mom, it’s just that today was the day you said you’d take me to get my belly button pierced.”

Damn.  Kinda forgot that.  It’s nearly 100 miserable fucking degrees outside, some asinine amount of humidity and the A/C in my car is not working well.  And the only place I would take her to get this done is at Iron Age Tattoo in University City.  She told me her and her friend (who was going for moral support) would be home between 1 and 2 pm.  Fine.

I’ve always kinda wanted my tragus done, but was always afraid that my ears are too little.  I figured while I was there with her, I’d ask if they even could.

Click to read the rest…..there is some blow by blow description of the piercing process and it may not be every one’s cuppa tea.  You’ve been warned…..

Read the rest of this entry »

So, yesterday was really bad.  I’m not really in a place to talk about it yet, but trust me when I tell you that it was bad.  I had a near nervous breakdown at work because of an email I received from my father.  Thankfully I have very good friends that are there to talk me down, calm me down and help me keep my focus.

And my focus remains to get the FUCK out of this town, away from this toxic job and sadly, away from my family.  They are so bad for me, which was proven by the email I got yesterday.  This makes me the most sad I think, but like someone once said “Don’t die wondering…..”  Don’t die wondering what IF, what would it have been like, don’t die wondering.  I don’t want to be on my death bed wondering “what if”.  You get one go around in life and there is absolutely no point in going through it being completely fucking miserable.  I’ve done that for too long and am finally going to do something about it.  I mean, I’m going to be 40 (yikes!!!!) at the end of this year (December 17, start planning now people).  It’s about time I begin living my life by what is right for me and not what my family thinks I ought to do.  I am educated, smart and have a very good job that supports me and my family, I can’t imagine what else it is that they expect of me.

I heard a saying once, “Friends are the family you choose.”  I have very few “friends” but the ones I do are the BEST.  I would rather surround myself with a few people that are fantastic and good for me, than have a ton of so called friends just to play the numbers game.  I truly believe when it comes to friends, quality is FAR more important than quantity.  I know some out there play some sick competitive game – I’m more popular than you because I have soooo many more friends than you.  Well let me ask you this?  Can you call each and every one of them at 3 in the morning because you are having a panic attack and need to talk to someone?  Because I can.  I will likely catch shit for it the next day (heh, and rightly so I reckon for waking people up, but its not mean spirited), but they will talk to me, hold my hand and get me through whatever it is that I need.  Because I would do the same for them, no questions asked.

I have gotten up at 2am to go help a friend in need (required brushing my hair and putting a bra on!  Oh the humanity!!), I’ve been on the phone with a friend because her abusive ex-dickwipe was coming over and she wanted/needed a witness in case he tried to hurt her (in that case I think I would have lost my mind if he had done something because I was 400 miles away).

I am a selfish person by nature (only child syndrome).  I really am.  Most of my friends will argue with you and tell you that I am not selfish, but quite generous in fact.  In some ways I am.  I am very generous with emotions when they get involved.  If I love you, I love you all the time, warts and all, no matter what.  There are truly only a couple friends that I feel this way toward (because of my previous hurt from my best friends death in 1991), only a few that I love more than anything.  You know who you are (hint, it’s not JUST the Bitches, but it does only include a few additional people) so I’m not naming names.  Others I can be friendly with (I am a very friendly bitch afterall) but am not as close with as I am with the ones I consider close to me.  Is that mean?  Is that being a bitch?  Is that being part of a clique?  No.  It’s just me.  Just how I am, how I’ve been since January 7, 1991.  You can’t change that.  Hell, a pile of therapists (costing a SHITpile of money) couldn’t change it.  Some things that happen leave an indelible mark on your soul (I assume, that even since I am a non-church going, non-religious heathen I still have a soul, although some would argue), and the best you can do is learn to deal with it as best as you can.  And that is exactly what I’m doing.  I’m dancing through life as best as I can.

Pee ess – I found this version of White Rabbit (originally by Jefferson Airplane) on the Resident Evil: Extinction soundtrack (because duh, the main character in the movie’s name is Alice), by a band called Collide that I’ve never heard of before – but I kinda like them!  Enjoy!

Pee ess ess – I sneezed twice before leaving for work this morning, and twice more once I got here and now my nose is all clogged up.  Great.  A cold when I seriously don’t have time to be having one.

Pee ess ess ess– I’m listening to a lot of Metallica, Megadeth, Motograter, Muse and Marilyn Manson today.  I realize that Muse being there is odd, but it’s my playlist, not yours, so :p

Jeeeeze.  To say that I have made monumentally HORRIBLE choices in men is a ridiculous understatement.  My current situation is fairly awful – as I have explained in the posts below (hopefully you have the password for the private posts), but my previous situation?  Well, it’s even worse.  And it’s not something I can get away from because I had children with that situation.  I shall call him BDITU.

So, BDITU works with the Terrorist’s friends mother.  And that woman?  She is flat out fucking crazy.  She allows her 20 year old daughter to govern how she parents her 15 year old daughter (the Terrorists friend).  And, unfortunately, the 20 year old whore/bitch HATES my kid.  My guess is because that the Terrorist and her friend get along and have a GREAT time.  So the 20 year old does everything she can to ruin that.  It all totally came to a head today.

At around noon I got a phone call from BDITU.  He said that Mik’s mother had approached him at work and informed him that the Terrorist can no longer hang out with Mik at all because the Terrorist is a “bad influence” and is not emotionally stable.  She then went on to claim that the Terrorist was saying all kinds of outlandish shit (like that she had an older brother in prison for selling drugs, was born in Australia, was pregnant and had an abortion last year, etc) and that she didn’t want Mik around that kind of influence.  Which I could TOTALLY understand….IF my kid was saying that kind of shit.  Which she wasn’t.

I explained to BDITU that the Terrorist had NOT said that, and said that both her and Mik had over heard the 20 year old telling her friends that she was going to make up stories about the Terrorist so that their mother wouldn’t let Mik hang out with her (aside:  the 20 year old convinced the mother that Mik shouldn’t get her bellybutton pierced because it is “slutty”…….while having a belly button piercing herself – WTF?).  I thought we had fairly well resolved things, even though I wanted to fucking kill him (nothing new there).  I came home from work, poured a glass of wine and was in the garage having a smoke when the Terrorist opened the door SOBBBBBBING.

Mik had called her to tell her that the BDITU had told her mom that the Terrorist “obviously had some deep issues and emotional problems and needed help“.  The child is DEV-A-STATED.  That actually doesn’t even cover it.  She crawled into my lap in my chair (all 5′9″ of her) and sobbed with hurt that her own father would say this kind of hateful shit.

Rather than wait for some kind of confirmation that what was going on was actually the truth, he just blindly laid all the blame on the Terrorist rather than stand up to this woman.

Way to go you complete fuckhole.  You’ve just proven, once again, that my decision to leave you and do everything in my power to keep you as far away as fucking possible from MY children was the right thing to do.