Delicious Pain

I have to get this written down somewhere before the memory fades. This is the *actual* dialogue from my visit to the ER last night. This couldn't have been any better if it had been scripted. Here goes:

*Backstory: Went to the Er at one hospital...waited 2 hours. Said screw it, and went to another one in my hometown, because it's never busy @ 3am. Got sent straight back...you know the drill, right? They check vitals, get a pee sample, etc, etc., ask you if you need anything for the pain, in which my response is "PLEASE! Just not Vicodin. That crap makes me itchy." Then a nurse comes in with a vial and a needle in hand...*

Me: But, I don't like needles (whiny voice, very key to the story)

Nurse: (her name was Saint, btw. too cool.) Then I guess you'll just have to be in pain. (With a smile on her face, in a joking tone.)

Me: Alright, fine. (insert dramatic sigh) I'll take the needle. (looks to Crystal) She drives a hard bargain. (we all chuckle)

(The nurse then explains that the shot is one that goes "in the derriere" because it "has some bite to it" and needs to be injected into a large muscle...and I whine, again. I turn over and she jabs, and I mean baseball swings that bitch, into my right cheek. [note: I *may* be exaggerating for effect. lol] Of course, it hurts and I jump.)

Nurse: Don't move! I'll just have to do it twice, then! (I can hear the playful sarcasm, and at that moment decide, "I like her.")

Me: *scoff* Well, I'm sorry, but when something pokes me in the butt, I tend to want to get out of the way!

(short moment of silence)

Nurse: That's a good idea. (laughs) If you rub it, the muscle will absorb the medicine quicker.

(another pregnant pause, in which I am just *waiting* for Crystal to say something sarcastic.)

Crystal: You want me to come over there and rub your butt. (And there it is! lol)

Nurse to Crystal: If you guys are just friends, you're an aweful good one! (She laughs and walks out of the room)

Yeah, so. There ya have it! I will be playing this dialogue over and over again in my head for a *long* time. We laughed for 20 minutes in the hospital...we laughed about it one the way to breakfast, and we laughed about it during the meal. It was EPIC! XD

Moral of the story? Every time Crystal and I are together, it's nothing if not memorable. LOL!

The Morning After

My best friend and I are...spontaneous. We could also be referred to as poor planners, but "spontaneous" sounds better. :P When we go out, we never really know where we're going to end up. Sometimes we go to the bar, others we just drive around looking for trouble. It's much more fun when you are with us, believe me.

Lately, much to the relief of our livers, I'm sure, we've just been driving around, causing trouble in our old hometown. It's small, the cops are *very* bored, so trouble is easy to find. My April 5th court date proves that theory quite well. Don't worry, it's really nothing serious, just a minor traffic thing that will be wiped from my record on that day.

Our last big adventure was a 1AM decision to go to Albuquerque...6 hours away. It sounded like a great idea, until we got there and realized we had a six hour drive back home, and neither of us had slept for nearly 24 hours. (See, poor planning.)

We've also driven all the way up to Cheyenne; a slightly shorter drive than Albuquerque, but still, it emphasizes the spontaneous nature of our times out together. We did manage to find a great little bar called Goofy's, there though. Older, more relaxed crowd; wicked cool. We had a drink, played some pool and drove back to CO. Once again: FUN!

Our next big adventure is a trip to St. Louis. This one is well-planned, though. The only issue we are going to have is convincing me not to spend my tax return on frivolous things, so we can actually get there. The hotel is booked, and the VIP passes are paid for. Both are non-refundable, so I have to learn some discipline, and quick, so we can get the rental car, and pay for food, gas and random merchandise while there.

Problem is, we're poor planners. Neither of us is real capable of looking too terribly far into the future and I, for one, am terrible at following through with plans.

Wish me luck.

Love and War

Apparently, I have an affinity for writing about love, relationships and men. I've come to the realization that this may make me sound a little...desperate, perhaps, or at the very least, "boy crazy," maybe? In turn, this realization has made me a bit uncomfortable because, well, I'm not.

In light of this recent epiphany, I am going to try my best to steer-clear of those topics for at least one post. Here goes:

Um...

Hm...

Oh!... No, that's the same thing...

Crap!

Oh! I got it!

Twitter is my new obsession. I have been converted over from the Facebook craze, to a world which requires you to be creative. Seriously. You only get 140 characters to express your thoughts. It's tough, but all that texting short-hand is coming in handy, for once.

I started "tweeting" about a year ago, maybe more, but wasn't really into it. It didn't make sense to me, but now that I have immersed myself into the cult, it's just plain awesome! I have developed an online family that rivals my own blood relation. There's no back-stabbing. Nobody is playing you against somebody else to get what they want. There's no sugar-coating, either. These girls tell it like it is, whether you like it or not. I love it.

I am hoping that Twitter stays low-profile like it is, now. I hate to even think about what will happen to it if it falls into the same category of fame as MySpace (anybody remember that one, or am I it? lol) and Facebook. Tragedy strikes when sites get too big. Hopefully, it'll stay a "cult" hit, so we can continue our craziness in relative peace and quiet. *crosses fingers*

If you're already a twitter-er...or, um, tweeter...errr...twat? (*snicker* Thanks to Brooke for that one!) look me up. Have a good one, folks!

All is fair...

I've been out of commission for a few...years, it feels like, so I'm going to take the time to catch you up on all the insignificance that is my life. Yeah, it's important to me, but may not be to you...I guess I'll let you be the judge. *shrug*

First on the list of importance (I'm not going chronologically, here, FYI) is the fact that I've sworn off men this year. I'm done with the over-bearing assholes who build me up just to destroy me later on. I'm done with the constant questions. I'm done with not being able to make my own decisions, without having to answer to some guy who is, most-likely, only in it for the sex, in the first place. I dealt with a controlling, condescending man for nearly 6 years. I'd leave him, but I always went back, because I was "lonely." Fucking pathetic! He, and others, screwed me over so bad, that I am now a jaded, paranoid mess of a woman. They, however, seem just fine, and take no responsibility for my heartache. It's ridiculous, the kind of pleasure they must get from my pain. Well, hell. No, I can't put it all on them, either. I am, at best, hard to live with; at worst, easy to please. Don't worry, it messes with their heads, too.

You see, from my experience, men have been trained on the ways to handle women for their entire lives, whether through observation, or their own experiences. Then, I come along and blow every preconceived notion they have right out of the water. I don't like the lovey-dovey, mushy crap that most girls fall for. If you profess your love for me the first month (hell, the first six months) that we're together, I'm going to run for the hills, screaming. I don't want to live with you, probably ever. I like my own space. I'm not a recluse, by any definition of the word, but I don't like everybody "all up in my business," either. I like the convenience and ease of a "friend with benefits" type scenario. Don't get me wrong, here, folks. I enjoy affection. I enjoy the idea of a relationship. I'm just not very good at it, it seems.

Or, rather, I'm not good at everybody else's definition of a relationship. I'd be the perfect girl for somebody who travels a lot, actually. Most women want their men close-by so they can keep tabs on them; make sure they aren't cheating, or being otherwise deceitful. I don't. I give everything I have to my men. Every ounce of emotion, good or bad, is thrown at them every minute I am with them. It's draining after a while and I need time to be alone, and recharge. I've screwed up relationships in the past because I wasn't getting that recharge time at home. I was able to find it somewhere else, and we all know how that turns out.

I'm not perfect. I don't claim to be. In fact, I'll be the first to point out my flaws; all you have to do is ask the right question. I don't fit in any category, that I'm aware of, anyway. I'm a girlie-tomboy, a self-righteous, self-less, caring, cold-hearted, give-until-I-have-nothing-left, woman. Damn if that doesn't irritate everybody! (Also, I cuss like a sailor and strut in 4-inch high heels.)

That being said, men, as a whole, don't understand how to handle me. I'm thick-skinned, but sensitive; serious, but light-hearted. I'm a fucking paradox within a mystery, within a god-damned bubble. I don't understand me, sometimes, so I get why they are so confused. They probably think I have "daddy issues" and need somebody to take care of me. Wrong! As a matter of fact, that's the exact line that will have me fit-to-be-tied: "I want to take care of you." Fuck you! I've done just fine on my own, so far, I don't need you, so back off that idea, right now. See what I mean? I get riled-up just thinking about somebody telling me that. *calm breath* Now, where was I? Oh, yes, that's right: men and my aversion to relationships.

Let's step off of that for just a minute so I can try to explain myself better, because I'm sure I've been jumping all over the place, and you're probably at least a tiny bit confused. I am serious when I say that I put everything I have into a relationship. I don't believe in fate. I believe that it takes a lot of effort for that fairy-tale romance to blossom, and I'm not about to miss out on that, just because I was too guarded, or because I didn't do everything in my power to make it work.

I've been broken because of that philosophy, but it hasn't changed the way I am. It's only changed how I choose the men worthy enough of my time. (Damn, that sounded conceited in my head, and even more-so when I typed it out.) I don't believe that any person, man or woman, should sell themselves short. Ever. You get what you think you deserve, so if you accept whatever that comes along, because it's convenient, you'll get burned. I know what I want in a man. I will also know, within the first two weeks, whether or not the man I'm with will be able to provide that. I don't lead people on, and I don't hold back.

So...yeah...aversion to relationships: I like my own space. I don't like answering to anyone. However, I am a control-freak, so I want people to answer to me...which is a problem, and one of the main reasons I have boycotted companionship this year. I need to fix that. I've been heartbroken, and it's left me jaded and generally wary of mens' intent. But I still love like I won't wake up tomorrow. *sigh* I get the feeling I'm rambling and repeating myself, now, so I'll sign off.

Thanks for reading.

Four-play

Why is it that when you call in sick, nothing ever happens? No exciting drama. No strange happenings. Nothing. You're stuck in bed with a fever and the sniffles, bored out of your mind! Seriously, is it too much to ask for a little excitement!? Can't someone shoot somebody next-door, or light something on fire? Hell, I'll settle for something simple, like a salesman coming to the door, or the cats playing...

But, no. I'm stuck at home, laying on the couch, watching soap operas. SOAP OPERAS! It's so mind-numbingly dull, if it weren't for the searing pain in my throat and the mucus draining from my nostrils, I'd swear my life was over and I was in hell. And I might just be, at that.

Germs are the devil's angels. They are here for no good reason. They don't sustain life, they aren't necessary for any ecosystem to thrive, and they make us miserable. Our arsenal of weapons does little to kill the minions, and a lot to damage our natural defenses. (My immune system is lazy because of all the medicine that was pumped into my body over my lifetime...) Yet, if we allow our natural defenses to take care of the little bastards, we risk becoming more sick, miserably grouchy, and possibly even dying...

Cache 22 at its finest, folks! And so, the only conclusion I can reach is that germs are contracted to Satan himself, and we have all been infected by the devil at some point. Harsh? Yeah, probably, but that's life, right? Meh. Maybe I'll think more clearly when my fever is back below 100 degrees and my lungs aren't being ripped from my chest with every cough...

TBC

Third Time's the Charm

I woke up about 20 minutes ago, and have to get this off my chest. No coffee. No cigarette. Just a nagging voice in the back of my head that won't shut up.

I'm tired of getting put in the middle of my roommates' marital issues. He pisses her off, and I hear about it; she pisses him off and I hear about it. Apparently they don't talk to each other about their issues...if they did, they'd realize that they're both bitching for no reason.

They are both my friends, and I see both sides of the "issues" they have. I just nod and say "uh huh," a lot. Nothing that they vent about is marriage-threatening, if they would just get it out in the open!

I have a theory: Marriages today are failing so often, because nobody talks to each other anymore. There are too many outside influences distracting us. In my parents' day, they didn't have anything but themselves to cure their boredom. My parents' marriage lasted 49 years, before Dad passed away.

People should have to spend the first year of their marriage with no internet, internet phones, or cable/satellite television. Forcing them to talk to each other, and entertain themselves the "old fashion way."

My boyfriend and I have the same problems as every other modern couple. We went camping last year, and talked for hours on end. It was like catching up with an old friend; sad, considering we've been living together for nearly five years. That was when I realized that we didn't have as many problems as we thought. We just have to turn off the damn TV and computer and spend some quality time together. (Easier said than done, sadly.)

Talk to your spouse. Get your problems in the open. Stop using technology as a distraction from reality, and deal with your life. Get out of the house and do something together. Better yet, get out of town for a day or three. It helps. Take the kiddies on a technology-free vacation, connect with nature. Get a sunburn, and rub aloe on each other. But most of all:

TALK ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS!!!

A Little One on One Time

I was involved with a married man in 2006. The affair lasted for five months, the scars from that affair have been with me for four years. I was 20, looking for attention I wasn't getting at home, and he was 38...ignored at home and looking for easy booty.

I've been called home-wrecker, whore, tasteless...but I don't care. I don't regret it. Let me say that again, I don't regret it. I learned a lot from that man, and the experience. He brought me out of myself. I was terrified (shy doesn't quite cover it) before him. We spent nearly every night at his house, while his wife was at work.

He never made promises and I never expected anything from him. I loved him. Stupidly, yes, but I did fall completely in love with that man. He loved me, but he never told me he'd leave her for me. I knew better anyway. They never leave their spouse. I've seen enough lifetime movies to know better.

His wife eventually found an email he had written to me. Our love came to a very abrupt end.

My boyfriend knew about it, long before I confessed. It took weeks of crying to convince him to stay. It's been four years, but the respect he had for me hasn't healed. Not completely. I don't blame him, though. It was my actions that caused his heart ache. I wouldn't trust me anymore, either.

I tell you that story, to tell you this one:

Since about a year after the affair, I've been jokingly telling everyone that I am going to write a "How to Cheat and Not Get Caught," handbook. We'd all share a good laugh, and joke about the things to be included. I never thought I'd get ever get published, so I thought, "What's the point?"

I'm going to do it. I'm going to write my handbook as a series of blogs. You can call me tasteless, you can complain, you can tell me it's immoral. I don't care. I figure, if it's going to happen, anyway, the less pain you cause, the better.

"What they don't know won't hurt them."