Monday, January 31, 2011

Cool things that happened

Hey what did you do for the last few days I don’t care my days were cooler. I’m just gonna give you the top two highlights.


First. I went to see my gynecologist. Hold on one freaking second while I get to the cool part. So he was all up in my business and he’s all “Hey there’s some blergity blooblah in here. Does that hurt?” And then I’m all “Mother of frick, dude!” and then he’s like “I know what will fix it! Chemicals!” And then he put chemicals in there. He put the chemicals on a stick and put them inside there to “burn off that bloobity blah”. Okay so then he’s all “Oh yeah, and silver might come out of there over the next few hours.” Did you hear that?! My vagina produces silver! I win at cool vagina.

Second. I am sitting at a stoplight on Saturday minding my own business and only partly creeping on the people next to me because who doesn’t do that honestly, when all out of nowhere…BOOM! The building across the intersection flipping explodes. Yes. EXPLODES. So of course I did what anybody would do and immediately pulled in the parking lot to take pictures. It was a strip mall so I was still a safe enough distance away. Turns out that a propane tank on the roof just lit right up and blew straight into the air. Everybody’s fine. I’m not that insensitive. So because everyone is fine it’s now officially cool for me to be like “HOLY FRACK BALLS I SAW THAT BUILDING EXPLODE!”

Can you top that?

It's because I'm so good at being awesome. And not at all a nerd.


One of my new favorite blogs is Nod If You Hear Me: A Bipolar Blog . I always love connecting with other people like me. So anyhow, she gave me a Stylish Blogger Award! I figure that it is because I am just so darn adorable. So the idea is to share 7 things about myself and then pass it right on. So let’s open up this bag of cats shall we?


1) I don’t sing Happy Birthday. Ever.

I just don’t. I hate it. I hate singing and I hate being sung to. I feel like there is nothing good that can come from Happy Birthday. Literally every person involved is uncomfortable. I don’t know where to look when you are crashing around in 14 different keys with no melody. You don’t know where to look when the song inevitably slows to a painful slow resolution. And then someone always has to add something dumb at the end. It sucks. And don’t even get me started on Happy Birthday at restaurants. Just give me my free sundae and move along.

2) I love run down houses and buildings.

I think that they are super beautiful. It’s like unintentional art. I feel like I can see into the past just for that moment. I like to imagine who was there and what that place meant to them and what changes have taken place around that particular structure. What did it look like in the area at the time it was built? How much history has passed through? I like the idea of slowing down time for a moment to study the decay of a structure. It’s just cool. I am a NERD.

3) I have a few pet peeves.

I cannot stand when married people do not wear their wedding rings on a regular basis. Sure maybe here or there when you are playing kickball or something, but wear your wedding ring. It just feels skeevy not to. Also I cannot stand song lyrics as status updates. Especially when you end the lyric with lots of exclamation points!!!! Like I don’t know if that means you are singing louder or singing off key or what. I just don’t know. It’s annoying. I have others. I’ll think of them sometime.

4) I have a super power

This is one hundred percent truth. My husband and my closest friends will verify this as fact. I’m not clairvoyant or anything. I can’t like see the future or pick who you are going to marry or tell you the lotto numbers. But I do have a very sharp intuition. I’m talking about being able to meet someone or see people interact or hear them speak to each other and figure out all kinds of information about them. My first impressions are often very detailed and almost always dead on. Once I have sized up a person I can usually predict with scary accuracy future behaviors/hidden secrets/life changes. I don’t just run around being all “Hey, I know that you are insecure with your job and you use your children as a surrogate source of unconditional love to fill your self esteem holes. You are going to quit your job in about 6 months because of the stress of being away from home and because the work is unfulfilling.” Or “hey, check your man because he is not entirely telling you the truth about his daily activites.” Or “hey, I know that you are lying to my face. I also know that you lie everyone around you in order to get people to like you. You aren’t really aware that you embellish the truth like that.” But I ALWAYS tell my initial impressions to my husband so that he can always verify later when things happen. I know. Creepy right?

5) Most of my face is numb and held together by metal.

OK, so long story short: I had my face rebuilt when I was 18. I wasn’t in an accident I just had a wonked up face that needed fixing. So now I have metal plates and screws and scars and vast amounts of nerve damage that causes me to drool on occasion. If you see me doing it, it’s cool. Just tell me about so I don’t look stupid. Sometimes I’ll be all “What’s this wet spot on my shirt? Aww, man!” Then later on when I was about 22 I grew me a big ol fancy tumor in my parotid gland (it makes your spit) and I had to have that whole mess taken out. So most of that side of my face doesn’t work and I can’t hear so well. That’s a whole open-my-face-like-a-book-and-then-I-had-a-blood-necklace-and-a-hole-opened-up-in-my-neck-and-chewed-food-came-out-story.

6) I love scary movies.

I especially love to watch them alone, at night, in the dark. It’s awesome. I’m not so much a fan of the slasher films. I like a real live supernatural thriller. One where you think and jump out of your skin a few times and maybe pee a little. The Others is probably up there as one of my favorites.

7) Life as an out and loud Obsessive-Compulsive is better than living in secret and struggling alone.

I wouldn’t trade this disorder. I wouldn’t give it back or push a button to be instantly healed from it. I have learned more from this disorder than any book I could ever read or class I could attend. I have met people and made friends and challenged myself. I was made this way. It’s hard. But I wouldn’t change anything.

And now I bestow this award to…

Shana at I’m a mom. I have OCD.
Lady has mad crochet skills and is just an all around cool person.

Sometimes I wish we could hang out together in real life. I have a girl crush on her I think. And seriously; she curses like an art form. 


Thursday, January 27, 2011

I did it! I really did it! On an actual Thursday!

I know! I know! It’s for real Thursday and here we are at Thankful Thursday!


So get to it:

1) I had a better week

2) My husband is fully an idiot and it makes me laugh every freaking time

3) I love my new tattoo

4) I have new blog friends! And a few new blogs that I am following so look for a list of those soon because some are so funny that I want to pee myself.

5) Luke and I are back to leading a Bible Study. It’s just short term but it feels great to be back doing what we love to do. I feels even better that this time around I can be fully female, free to think outside of boxes, unafraid of having an opinion and using logical reasoning, my relationship with Jesus is real, and my personality doesn’t require inhibition anymore.

6) My new meds are kicking in. That OCD flair up is starting to get back under control. It’s not like I’m going to up my meds everytime I have a flair, but this time it was necessary. And it’s working and I’m clear headed again so that I can practice CBT without chemical imbalance screwing it all up.

7) I seriously might get to lay out and tan tomorrow. It will be freaking icy by Monday, but tomorrow is warm and sunny. Bikini time.

8) I have awesome dogs. Currently they are sacked out with me and snoring. We are about to hit up some Jersey Shore. I love Thursday.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

New ink and a little bit of me being a creep. Just for a second.

I got a new tattoo! It is so unbelievably amazing. And here’s the deal. I did this alone. Do you hear me!? Alone. This is the girl who previously struggled to get the mail or go to 7-11 or make phone calls or drive. I did it alone. OK, it did take me a few tries to make the phone call. That is just still something I am working on. But then I did it.


Also, it turns out that my ankles are like stupid ticklish. I seriously almost kicked the poor guy in the face like about 28 times. I mean, yes it hurt. It hurts like a frackin’ cheese grater going over my tiny bony leg over and over. But the tickling was real live torture. It took all of my Yoga skill to stay still and not jerk around or laugh. I had to go way into that grounded meditative place. And even then I had a couple of good kicks that made for some near misses.

I’m becoming one of those tattoo addicted people. He wasn’t even done with this one when I was looking up a design for my next one. But that’s a secret I’m keeping under wraps right now. I love the whole process. I love the art and the design and the meaning and the permanence and the creative process. I love the skill it takes to create the design on skin. The steady hands and the precision are fascinating. My last tattoo was on my back so I couldn’t really see, but this time I was right in there watching the whole thing. It’s an amazing process.

OK, now I’m gonna sound like one of those weird masochists but trust me I’m not all freaky and whatnot. Anyhow, I kind of appreciate the pain. It is cleansing. When you can tolerate the pain to come out on the other side with something so meaningful, that is cool. I love watching it heal. The whole process is seriously cool. And this particular tattoo not only represents both my kids, it represents a freedom that I am deveoping. I reminds me that I am actively managing what could be and has been a crippling disorder and I am expanding my perimeter. I sound like a weirdo. Please still be my friend.

So here it is! What do you think?

OK, I'll go back to being funny tomorrow. And this is the last time I talk about this I promise. Mostly.

I keep writing posts like this and then I don’t post them. That’s because they often start out with great intentions and an actual point and then devolve into bitter rambling and oversharing. I’m gonna try again. And I am gonna try to do this just the one time. I don’t want to keep picking at the scabs. I’m gonna try to make cogent points and well crafted explanations of my thought process. So…yeah. We’ll just see where this goes.


It’s been nearly 7 months since the ugly and very hurtful confrontations that led to us removing ourselves from the church we had known our whole lives. Let me be clear that this was all for the best. We were done being in that environment. We have found a new church and in fact a new denomination which is exactly where we are supposed to be. It is the place that in just a few months has already shown Jesus to us in ways we never saw before. But…the chain of events that led us there sucked. Like really really sucked. HARD. And I’m really having a lot of trouble letting it go.

Being told that you are invaluable as a leader is painful. Being denied the right to study and share and form my own opinions and apply logic and reason as well as passion and faith to my personal Bible study simply because I am a woman is unfathomable. Well, correction: I was allowed my own study providing that I didn’t try to share with any men and if I disagreed or asked evocative questions regarding the historical contexts and practices of said religion, I needed to be ready to have a man share with me the proper “answers”. Or really I should just know better than to toe the line. Having the leaders of the church that I believed was my family tell me that my actual personality just is not Christian-y enough was a literal kick in the ass. And then when I was down, I was stomped in the guts with the comment that not only am I not setting appropriate “Christian” examples for women, men, or children, but I am supposedly actually damaging people’s marriages with my horrible frankness/sense of humor/inquisitive nature/mental illness/thought provoking questions/general presence as a human. I was breaking the rules. I wasn’t following the pre-cut mold of who I was supposed to be as a woman/wife/mother. I was apparently quite bad at it. And wow…they let me know. They made sure I knew how crappy I was.

Settling in to our new church has been the solid foundation that I have needed. Jesus was there ahead of us making a place for us to fit right in. It’s like we’ve always been there. So the healing process should be progressing. The problem is that throughout these many months I continue to hear the things that are continually said about me. I heard just this week that someone who I thought was a friend, a fellow member of the family of God, was continuing to say disparaging things about me and my family. The general water cooler talk seems to be that they were just trying to help guide me. You know “in love”. But I’m such a heathen that I chose to just walk away from the Truth. I was probably never a Christian to begin with. The Devil must have a hold of me. You know, because of how I’m mentally ill and I just refuse to let go of my sin lifestyle (read: advocating women’s rights and civil liberties among other things) or I would be cured of the OCD and the depression and the anxiety. That kind of stuff happens to people who are fighting God. So I hear all of these things about me through a friend who was being told these things “just so you are aware”. So basically this person was doing my friend a favor by letting her know just how awful I am.

And I wish this was an isolated incident. These faith communites are all inter-connected so my ability to just not know what’s going on is non-exisitant. Plus there are still friends in that place. And they believe in the direction and leadership of the church and I want to be supportive of that. But it means hearing things all the time. There seems to be this schadenfreude that accompanies any conversation about those “Cavetts”. You know what? I get it. I’m trying to move on. You are right. I didn’t belong in your community. That message was received loud and clear when my kids were removed from their class roles. I get it. You don’t approve of me or my life or my kids or my husband or my personality or my relationship with Jesus assuming that I even have one.

So here’s the part where I struggle. Why is it all so hateful and judgemental? The Jesus that I know doesn’t behave that way. And trust me, I know Him. I know Him personally. And I love Him. And I speak to Him and I want to behave like He did. The Jesus I know understands that we are all going to be different. He is not the same to me as He is to you because we are different. Our histories, our lives, our interests, our needs are all different. And that is what makes His church great. But I’m still missing the part where He condones His followers treating one another so poorly. I’m missing the part where any human whether Christian or not, is forced to listen to a list of violations and attacked at the core of their person. My Jesus did not behave that way. My Jesus loves. My Jesus was hurt and angered by the religious judging the less religious. My Jesus loves me and knows me and trust me I can’t get one over on Him. My Jesus tells me when I am acting less than how He would act. My Jesus never turned away anyone. My Jesus is about peace and love. I don’t need other persons (leadership or no) to be my Jesus for me. Guess what? The veil was torn so I get to have access to Him all by myself. I don’t need to be told what my personal choices/convictions/behaviors should be. Because trust me, all I ever want is to be like He is.

And my Jesus also forgave and continues to forgive. And I don’t know how to do that. It’s hard. After having been cut so deeply and so personally, it’s hard. It feels like I would be condoning that behavior. It feels like I would be saying that those philosophies of leadership are the same as mine because we all follow the same Jesus, right? I literally do not know how to stop the bleeding and pick up the pieces after having my idealistic perception of religion shattered. We are in such a good place now and I don’t want to keep hauling my bag of broken pieces in there each week. But I don’t know where to put those pieces. Do I throw them away or try to glue them all back together?

So I guess I am trying to avoid swinging the pendulum the other way and being judgey and mean right back. I am trying not to impose my discernments of right and wrong onto the people who did so to me. That sounds passive agressive. I don't mean it to be. I keep trying to remind myself that I am not defined by other people. I am not even defined by my religious behavior. I am defined by Jesus. And Jesus is defined by love. Jesus loves me this I know.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Blaaaaaaah

I wrote posts this week I just didn’t post any of them. They felt lame. So I didn’t post them. This is precisely the reason why I am going back to Dr. Happy-Pills today. My current happy pills seem to have lost their pep. Either that or I am actually getting crazier. I am outgrowing pharmaceuticals. Neat. But I did just spell pharmaceuticals correctly on the first try. So my genius is growing in direct proportion to my crazy.


I danced this week. Like on purpose. Newsflash: I am not a dancer but somehow I am choreographing this show choir show for school. Turns out that I have really great things to teach high school kids. I’m a total role model. Yesterday’s lesson was: “Never touch a dead vagina.” I should get like accompanist of the year award or something. Also we did Yoga and I taught them how to roll around on the floor like dirty, gritty, slimy, oozy, insects. In a totally cool way.

I think my dog has pink eye. Can dogs get that? Because mine totally has it. He’s all pussy and gross. But I love him. Luke has this policy about pets. No cats or birds. Because you never want to have a pet where the most ideal situation is that they poop in your house on purpose thus requiring you to pick it up on a regular basis. Also no dogs small enough to fit in a purse. I don’t know what his policy states about pink eye. We might be having a meeting to create an addendum to the policy soon.

Soblahblahanyhowvagina, I think I am still in a Vegas hangover. As in my luggage is still on the floor in the bedroom. I guess I need to get around to working on that soon. But I figure between my packed schedule of being a fabulously crazy musician/artist/generally good influence to the youth of America I just haven’t had time to fit that in yet.

We have a super fun weekend coming up…but I’m going to leave you in suspense. And then maybe in like two weeks I’ll finally post about it.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Just trust me on the peeing thing

Cold.


Like freaky butt cold.

Like if you tried to pee outside it would freeze midstream.

So today I was home all day. I didn’t have any lessons until later. And I wanted to light a fire. But first I needed to clean out the ashes from yesterday’s fire. I pretty much love having a fire. I scooped them all up and put them in a bag as I usually do when cleaning the fireplace ashes. And then…there were still embers in the ash. Apparently. Because the bag caught on fire. So I stamped on it a little and ash flew all over. Then I grabbed a cardboard box laying in the floor (because at the Cavetts we often have odd bits like that just laying about) and put the now holy smoking bag of ashes in the box. And the smoke was going all in the house. So I stuffed the whole thing in the fireplace. But then I decided that wasn’t working so I filled up a cup of water and threw it on the bag/box. But it was still smoking. So I pulled it out of there and ran it outside while it leaked out muddy ash water. Then when I got outside I was afraid that it would burst into flames or something so I poured a bunch of more water all over it. And muddy ash water went everywhere. And then about 10 minutes later it was all frozen. it is.Which is how freaking cold it is. 

Anyhow…

Therapist told me today that I need a med adjustment. Yeah probably. My intrusive thoughts are being all intrusive again. That is just so like them. And that ain’t what you want. After about my third unprovoked panic attack this week, I am kind of thinking that it might be a good idea myself. I am finding it necessary to touch again. Not to the worst extent of my touching. But I’m pretty sure that Luke is ready for me to be done tapping his face before he kisses me. Gak. Just thinking about not doing that gives me the skeeves right now. So I guess I need a med check. Now I just have to pick up the stupid phone and actually call.

I’m gonna go have a glass of wine.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Thankful Day. Why do I even try to do it on Thursdays anymore?

I guess we are starting off 2011 on the right foot because here I am on Saturday doing my Thankful Thursday. Honestly, I can’t go setting a precedent of doing crap on time because then you’d be all expecting that crap. Pfffttt. I don’t like to get your expectations all high. Anyhow…


I feel like my brain has been processing all kinds of heavy stuff of the last few weeks. Religion and the removal of religion and the necessity of religion and the perversion of religion and the reality of Jesus versus the perceived reality of Jesus…and also nachos. I am so into nachos right now. Anyhow, I’m not really ready to unleash all of my deep theological musings on you just yet. So until then, let’s go classic thankful Thursday. It’s a list. It’s simple. And it’s 2 days late.

1) I have this job that I like

This is new for me. Not having a job…I’ve had jobs. But now I get to be a musician. All day every day. And I get to work with high school kids and younger kids and adults. I get to show them what it means to me to be a musician. Not just as a hobby but as my life. Also, I go to a job every day. That is a big deal. Let me put this in perspective for you. I have never held a full time job ever in my life. As a distinguished member of the mentally ill community, working a full time job was never something that I could even imagine doing. There was a time in my life when I couldn’t leave the house to get my mail. Having a job is a big deal. Having a job where I get to be a musician is even better.

2) Nachos

I don’t even know what’s happening here but I am dominating some nachos lately. I’m, all “What’s that, nachos? Oh yeah…I OWN you.” Suck it.

3) My man is kind of awesome

Yeah, so he’s pretty hot. And pretty patient. You gotta have some serious patience to put up with this business. I’m crazy. I don’t know if you’ve heard.

4) I made it another year. This time things are different

I am ready for my first full year as a productive, maintained, fully disclosed, Obsessive-Compulsive Christian. Last year sucked balls. Let’s not kid ourselves. But in a way it was the best thing that could have ever happened. I have a different relationship with Jesus. A different understanding of myself. A new passion for speaking about mental illness, particularly the mentally ill Christian. I’m ready to do more things I have never done before. I am ready to push the envelope and learn and grow and listen and challenge myself and challenge other people and ask questions even when the answers are scary and dig deeper and stand up for myself and know Jesus better and love and think and empower and expand and be successful as a female and as a person and give a face to OCD. And also eat nachos. I am so freaking into nachos right now.



What are you thankful for?

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Those creepy little baby ninjas kept their little baby ninja stars right in their diapers and came at me like horrifying little bats. Stupid baby ninjas.

Guh! You know how when you wear a wrist brace every body is all “What’d you do?!” and you really wish you had an awesome story like ninja fights, or saving babies, or ninja babies but you don’t have an awesome story you only have the truth and the truth is way less flattering? OK. I’m gonna tell this story once and once only.


I didn’t practice piano much during Christmas break what with the raging bronchitis, stomach explosion virus, Vegas, and general merriment. So for the last two days I spent a lot of time at the piano because I have a freaky butt crazy accompanying schedule between now and March and all of it is brand new to me music. I’m talking about if I just played everything from start to finish without practicing it would take hours but I also need to stop and fix a few things here and there because I don’t want to suck. You don’t get paid for sucking (insert your own joke here. I’m not touching that one…Again, own joke here). So by the end of day two I felt some strain in my right hand from the outside wrist to pinky tip area. I think that’s the medical terms for it anyway.

I decided to chill and let my ligaments/muscles/tendons or whatever other freaky magical neuron crap is in there making pain have a rest. And then since I was feeling all productive after having banished Christmas paraphernalia from my house for another year and I had practiced all crazy like, I decided to do laundry which I never do because I hate it. So I picked up a big ‘ol heavy basket of laundry and then…my wrist sort of just gave out. Not really popped or ripped, just kind of quit. And then a moment later there was the pain. From the tip of my pinky to the end of my elbow pain. That’s like about 16 inches of pain which is a lot.

Now since I am a teensy bit accident prone, as in I dropped my curling iron on my neck just last week in Vegas, my dear husband is a little bit worn out of this whole process. But it really hurt kinda how I imagine it would feel if your bones suddenly turned electric and I really whined. A lot. Because that’s what I do. I couldn’t really bend it and I couldn’t really do anything with just one hand which annoyed him verily because yea he was called upon to travel in dark of night and cold winter’s wind to Walgreens whereupon he would seek remedy for my ills and return thusly with a brace for mine arm. Because he was my serving wench until he got it all patched up.

After 24 hours I am doing much better. Pretty sure I’m gonna pull through and lead a healthy normal and productive life. And now, not only can I say that I sprained my knee in my chair at the movies, I can add that I was also injured by laundry. Bucket list: check.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Vegas. In a summarized list.

Let’s run down some Vegas, shall we?

1) We had to fly there. I hate hate hate flying. I work on that in therapy all the time. You know, among other crazies. Big crazies first, then small crazies. So I hit me up some Xanax. That stuff is like a tiny little miracle. I feel like Jesus made them just for me. They are like my own little special communions. (I mean that in an entirely not disrespectful way. If you know me in person then you get it. Back me up here). Anyhow, knocked it back and no problem. Of course, flying direct helped too. Being late for things makes me nervous and connections are just asking for a time crunch. Or too much time in which case I would require more meds…nobody wants me that unfiltered.

2) Our room at the MGM Grand was all kinds of modern and glassy. Like glass doors on the shower and toilet. Not really doors so much as moveable panels. That did not go all the way to the freaking floor or ceiling. Yay! Happy Vacation! I hope you like hearing me pee. The glass was “frosted” but honestly…it’s frarkity frank glass! Maybe next time we could just set the pot right in the room with us for that ultra hip experience. All the celebrities pee in front of each other you know. But there was a TV in the mirror so points re-earned, MGM.

Still happy even after audible urination
 3) This was apparently the week that people from Wisconsin dropped whatever it is that you do in Wisconsin and headed to Vegas. And not just regular Wisconsin folk either. Rabid Badgers fans. The fans are rabid, not the badgers. Head to toe Badger gear. Because if there’s anything cooler than one guy in Badger gear, it’s multiple guys in Badger gear. And bless their accented little hearts too. Are you trying to make me stare at you?

4) Here’s a little tip: When ordering at a fancy restaurant, wait until the Xanax is completely worn off. I could hear the words coming out of my mouth but couldn’t get them to order freaking rigatoni. I wanted rigatoni! I couldn’t even think of the word rigatoni until the next day. But what I had was really good. I’m guessing, anyway. I only remember eating all of it. Also: tell them it is your anniversary because we scored all kinds of stuff.

5) I get ID’d in Vegas. I am 21 looking in Vegas. Which is awesome.

6) Check the stats before you just go ordering drinks all willy-nilly. I had me a $5 glass of Coke and a $12 cocktail. I thought Luke was going to bust through the glass and bottle up my expensive urine.

7) The Evans’ are great vacation buddies. Walking and eating and shopping and completely picking up on the cues when it came time to really freak out people in the elevator. Not too many people will totally encourage a uterus and bleeding conversation in a full elevator.

6'4' with the shoes

8) Again the theory is proven that when beholding a woman of a certain height, people lose their discretionary comment filter. Which is absolutely fine with me. But even still, hearing “Whoa, tall!” or “Honey, look at that tall girl” or “She’s big” is somewhat un-nerving. I do like hearing “You’re pretty.” Which I did hear. Multiple times. Thankyouveryflippingmuch.

9) I don’t even have words for Cirque du Soliel “LOVE”. It was like my brain got all addled and exploded onto a stage and then French people acted it all out and the Beatles soundtracked the whole thing. Also, a disturbing vision of Eleanor Rigby and some phantom children made my whole night. Seriously…Best. Show. Ever.

10) Chris likes naps.

11) When beautiful men grab you and put your hands on their bare chests…just go with that. Just go with it.


Such a pretty couple.

12) Tip: If your sports team is going to play in any kind of game, specifically bowl games, ask Luke who he thinks is going to win. If he says that your team will win, you are screwed. Tip: If you want to win lots of money playing blackjack, let Luke teach you how. And then sit next to him. But ignore his head-banging into the table and pounding of his fists.

13) Why are you walking around with your tiny newborn at midnight in the casino? Really?

 
14) Do you have any idea how many kinds of cheese there are to choose from? Like on your cheeseburger at a French restaurant? Answer: a milliondy. And yes, I ordered a cheeseburger. Also my hypothesis that everything is funnier with a French accent was proved was astounding accuracy. You are welcome.

15) OCD and Vegas played very well together. Meds? Probably. But I was normal. I was able to experience life without an enormous ball and chain. I was spontaneous. I was normal. You know…normal for me.



Pretty ladies on the monorail making friends where ever we go.

I don't think he's really British...

Trying to get the picture fast so this guy doesn't get fired and Chris doesn't knock over anybody else.


Saturday, January 1, 2011

New Year, New Me...except for that I'm pretty much the same because how do you make this better? Honestly.

I’m back and I’m all new and I’m better than ever. OK, so not actually new and for realz not better. I been hacking up my organs from hardcore bronchitis for almost 2 weeks now. It’s like my body is actually trying to turn itself inside out starting with my butthole. I’m like a Popples. That’s how hard I’m coughing. But…I am back on 1/1/11 which is an “ugly” number FYI. So let’s run it down from the top of 2010 and close it off with some new business.


At the beginning of the year I had made a list of things I resolved to attempt with semi-determination. I think I did OK. That list included eating enormous amounts of spaghetti. I done did it. I win, spaghetti. I. WIN. Also it included taking the Mensa test. OK, this one I haven’t done…yet. You only get to take it the one time and that is scary. The national testing day was in October. I wanted to take the practice test first. But I hadn’t taken it yet. This is something that will happen. But what I DID do was join the High IQ Society. It’s like Mensa’s little bitch. But still…I’m in it. Suck on that.

Sadly, I have not become a Yoga master but I am much better at it. The Yoga that I do is more comprehensive mentally and physically AND Captain Christian from I heart Jesus university tells me that Yoga makes me a heathen, so…you know…bonus. I missed quite a few months of practice right in the middle of the year when I evicted my reproductive system. This is also why my snuggie was not nearly as prevalent as I figured it would be. Having all your lady bits out makes you get all menopausy which makes you hotter than a witch's lady bits. Seriously. As for the lip reading, I am really getting good. Partly from practice but more from necessity because I can’t hear freaking anything.

Other than that my year was rather quiet…aside from the face slap and kick in the ass delivered by our former church, getting a real job for the first time in years, going places like a real job all by myself, finding a new church and new denomination, becoming comfortable in my own skin, getting a new dog, traveling out of the country, getting a tattoo and turning 30. Also, I learned that it really takes up a whole mess of my energy trying to be who people want me to be. I’m just gonna stick with who Jesus wants me to be. That is way the frick easier. Jesus is much better at sticking around. Even when I act retarded. Or…I mean…like a genius. Or a metally ill genius. I’m pretty sure that’s it.

So that was then and this is now. Let’s hammer out some ideas here for the next few months…

1) I want to put my proverbial pen to my wirelessly connected paper and get out there more. I would love to have more of you fine people reading this humble mess of thought. So if you like it, pass on the info. If you hate it, pass on the info. If you have a compliment, please feed my ego. If you have a criticism, then by all means speak up but please for the love of not being a pansy, use your real name. I’m talking to you anonymous. Remember I’m a genius now and also very polite so I would be thrilled to engage in an intelligent exchange of ideas. You’ll learn, I’ll learn, and everyone will be better for it. Or I can just call you a vagina and move along with my life.

So the moral of the story is PLEASE share my blog. And don’t be afraid to visit the store either…

2) Live with OCD. I’m doing it. One day at a time.

I think that’s all. And if you are new or haven’t been around in a while, here’s a refresher: I have OCD. I talk about it openly. I find it humorous but I do not make fun of the disorder or the people. I find just about everything funny. Especially things that are wildly inappropriate. I might curse just a little. I like wine. I love talking about vaginas. Mine, yours, or theoretical. I’m a little bit southern and a whole lot mouthy. I love Jesus. I love my husband. I love my kids and my dogs. I do not love holidays so do not try to convert me. Just accept it. And if you want to know something, just ask. Pretty much I’ll tell you anything and it probably has a good story to go with it.

Later!