Jibba-Jabba
Well, I was going to embed George Michael's "Freedom" song on this blog, but apparently he disabled it. Crazy queer.
Today is the first day of school for Austin and Steven. Violette is following not far behind as soon as preschool starts. Then it's just gonna be me and Nick. Wow. I'm excited.
I decided to quit taking Chantix based on the fact that I don't feel ready to fully quit smoking yet and that every day on that pill made me feel like I was getting closer and closer to losing my mind. Like any minute I was going to snap. I started having suicidal thoughts, which to be very open and honest, I've ALWAYS had. Not suicidal intentions, but how should I say it? Death scenarios. They became pretty vivid and everytime I was driving down the freeway I felt like I wanted to just run my car off the road. Not ok. So I guess I'm going to have to quit the old fashioned way. But this time wait until I'm good and ready so there aren't any relapses. Maybe I'll quit tomorrow. The prospect of quitting sounds nice.
Speaking of quitting, I'm going to stop drinking. It's getting out of control. I'm leaving it at that.
People are so weird, ya know. Sometimes they just are. The human machine will never cease to amaze and disappoint me.
I want to get married. You already know this. Reading my friend Sara's blog on marriage lit that unhappy little fire under my ass again. If Mike weren't so damned good with the kids and I didn't have that deep-seeded urge to give my kids a full family, I'm sure the burden of wanting to get married would be less. As it is, he can't buy me a ring soon enough.
Speaking of rings, do you think it would be weird if I didn't get a big fat crazy diamond ring like everyone else? I don't want something yanking my hair out and catching on all my clothes and scratching the kids when I pick them up. Is it weird that I'd prefer just a simple wedding band? Maybe like three tiny diamonds embedded in it?I like simplicty and function in my jewelry, yet I somehow think that if I show anybody a ring like that they're going to automatically think that Mike's a cheapskate, which wouldn't be the case. See, I don't care what people think about me. I do care what they think about the people I love, though.So there's a nice little distinction for ya.
"Mommy. Why is your face square?"
That's what Stevie asked me yesterday. My face has never been so swollen as it was yesterday. My tooth had been kind of hurting the night before and so I brushed my teeth vigorously, used mouthwash, took a shower and ran some hot water on my cheek, and then went to bed. I woke up and my cheek/gums were swollen the size of a golf ball. Talk about a surprise. So I finally got it down a little bit with Ibuprofen and then later that night I put some ice on it and it went down dramatically. Barely noticable since I slept with frozen beef patties on my face all night. Guess we're having hamburgers for dinner tonight since they're already thawed, courtesy of my face.
(I kept joking around with Mike and the kids. I would just stare at them and say "My lump is staring at you...and it's hungry and wants to know why you don't love it anymore." Lol.)
But alas, there's no money in my tight budget for a $400 trip to the dentist. And they don't take payment plans. So fuck it. I'm gonna have to suffer for, hmm, a couple of months?
My birthday is on October 5th. I'll be 27. I guess we'll find out if I really am a rockstar or not, depending on if I die this year. (Jimi, Janice, The Lizard King.) 27 is FUCKING OLD. Blink of an eye, I tell ya.
Oh yeah, if anybody has a math 88 book they'd allow me to borrow, that would rock. I'm barely going to be able to afford tuition. Math 88 or English 101. Thanks in advance. Since I know that most of my friends are math tards and really exceptional at English, there should be a plethora of books out there. HELP PLEASE!
My bedroom smells like Mike's stinky feet. How many candles does one have to burn to make that smell go away? Or wait, should I just make him dip his feet in the candle wax, thus avoiding the smell entirely? Hmm. Let's make it work. I gotta clean my room today.
On a happy little sidenote I'm in love...with a song. Fred the Fern by McMonster the Devastator. My friend Josh's music project. I use the term "friend" loosely. I think I may have talked to him exactly one time in person, while I was horrendously drunk and being ridiculous. We've talked on Myspace. He's a cool cat. And I fucking love his song. Check it out and add him if you haven't already. I'm not even a punk fan, but the tune is catchy. It promises to not disappoint.
I'm scattered today, can you tell? Thought fragments are the best I can do. Don't ask for embellishment.
I went golfing over the three day weekend. I'm not half bad. That's what Mike tells me, but then he does have to live with me. We should go golfing sometime. It's fun. Way better than that stupid putt putt bullshit.
Need more sleep.
Today is the first day of school for Austin and Steven. Violette is following not far behind as soon as preschool starts. Then it's just gonna be me and Nick. Wow. I'm excited.
I decided to quit taking Chantix based on the fact that I don't feel ready to fully quit smoking yet and that every day on that pill made me feel like I was getting closer and closer to losing my mind. Like any minute I was going to snap. I started having suicidal thoughts, which to be very open and honest, I've ALWAYS had. Not suicidal intentions, but how should I say it? Death scenarios. They became pretty vivid and everytime I was driving down the freeway I felt like I wanted to just run my car off the road. Not ok. So I guess I'm going to have to quit the old fashioned way. But this time wait until I'm good and ready so there aren't any relapses. Maybe I'll quit tomorrow. The prospect of quitting sounds nice.
Speaking of quitting, I'm going to stop drinking. It's getting out of control. I'm leaving it at that.
People are so weird, ya know. Sometimes they just are. The human machine will never cease to amaze and disappoint me.
I want to get married. You already know this. Reading my friend Sara's blog on marriage lit that unhappy little fire under my ass again. If Mike weren't so damned good with the kids and I didn't have that deep-seeded urge to give my kids a full family, I'm sure the burden of wanting to get married would be less. As it is, he can't buy me a ring soon enough.
Speaking of rings, do you think it would be weird if I didn't get a big fat crazy diamond ring like everyone else? I don't want something yanking my hair out and catching on all my clothes and scratching the kids when I pick them up. Is it weird that I'd prefer just a simple wedding band? Maybe like three tiny diamonds embedded in it?I like simplicty and function in my jewelry, yet I somehow think that if I show anybody a ring like that they're going to automatically think that Mike's a cheapskate, which wouldn't be the case. See, I don't care what people think about me. I do care what they think about the people I love, though.So there's a nice little distinction for ya.
"Mommy. Why is your face square?"
That's what Stevie asked me yesterday. My face has never been so swollen as it was yesterday. My tooth had been kind of hurting the night before and so I brushed my teeth vigorously, used mouthwash, took a shower and ran some hot water on my cheek, and then went to bed. I woke up and my cheek/gums were swollen the size of a golf ball. Talk about a surprise. So I finally got it down a little bit with Ibuprofen and then later that night I put some ice on it and it went down dramatically. Barely noticable since I slept with frozen beef patties on my face all night. Guess we're having hamburgers for dinner tonight since they're already thawed, courtesy of my face.
(I kept joking around with Mike and the kids. I would just stare at them and say "My lump is staring at you...and it's hungry and wants to know why you don't love it anymore." Lol.)
But alas, there's no money in my tight budget for a $400 trip to the dentist. And they don't take payment plans. So fuck it. I'm gonna have to suffer for, hmm, a couple of months?
My birthday is on October 5th. I'll be 27. I guess we'll find out if I really am a rockstar or not, depending on if I die this year. (Jimi, Janice, The Lizard King.) 27 is FUCKING OLD. Blink of an eye, I tell ya.
Oh yeah, if anybody has a math 88 book they'd allow me to borrow, that would rock. I'm barely going to be able to afford tuition. Math 88 or English 101. Thanks in advance. Since I know that most of my friends are math tards and really exceptional at English, there should be a plethora of books out there. HELP PLEASE!
My bedroom smells like Mike's stinky feet. How many candles does one have to burn to make that smell go away? Or wait, should I just make him dip his feet in the candle wax, thus avoiding the smell entirely? Hmm. Let's make it work. I gotta clean my room today.
On a happy little sidenote I'm in love...with a song. Fred the Fern by McMonster the Devastator. My friend Josh's music project. I use the term "friend" loosely. I think I may have talked to him exactly one time in person, while I was horrendously drunk and being ridiculous. We've talked on Myspace. He's a cool cat. And I fucking love his song. Check it out and add him if you haven't already. I'm not even a punk fan, but the tune is catchy. It promises to not disappoint.
I'm scattered today, can you tell? Thought fragments are the best I can do. Don't ask for embellishment.
I went golfing over the three day weekend. I'm not half bad. That's what Mike tells me, but then he does have to live with me. We should go golfing sometime. It's fun. Way better than that stupid putt putt bullshit.
Need more sleep.