tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49646038598902897392024-02-07T02:37:02.184-08:00Suburban PsychoticLosing my grip on reality one day at a time.© 2009Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-16874204082523299172013-04-22T19:30:00.000-07:002013-04-22T19:30:39.785-07:00The sum of the Parts<div>
Part 1</div>
In an emergency situation, I'm a ROCK STAR. As soon as shit hits the fan, an eerie calm comes over me and I'm able to think logically and rationally while everyone around me is in total meltdown. In times of crisis, I get the sense that everything around me is in slow motion and I'm better able to dodge the bullets coming at me (I'm channeling my inner Neo), but put me in a longterm crisis situation and I start to implode and all areas of my life fall to pieces. My issue is, that if I can't fix something right away, I can't deal with it. In this scenario, everything around me is moving in slow motion, but I'm passively watching it all turn to shit instead of taking charge and making things right. I can't fix my kid, I can't even find someone to help me fix him, some days I'm not even totally sure what is wrong with him. I'm not coping with this well. Well, I'm not coping with this at all.<div>
Part 2</div>
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I have a depressive personality. Some people who know me can not be convinced of this, but if they could see inside my head, there'd be no argument.</div>
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I've had episodes of depression, all of which I've refused to be medicated for.</div>
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I don't refuse medication because I'm against it. I refuse it because... I like being depressed.</div>
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You read that right, but I should clarify.</div>
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I don't wake up in the morning and hope to be depressed that day. I don't want to feel sad and hopeless and otherwise out of commission, but I also can't resist the feeling when it calls for me.</div>
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I don't think it's much different than a drug addict's relationship with their drug/s. You know it's bad, you know life is better without it, but you can't resist indulging in it.</div>
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The good news for me is that I've learned to cope with this part of me, and I'm successful enough that most people aren't even aware of the devil sitting on my shoulder, telling me to jump into the abyss.</div>
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The bad news is that if my life is in crisis, (which it is right now) I lose all ability to cope with this part of me. This is very bad news.</div>
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You do the math:</div>
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Part 1 + Part 2 = not muy bueno.</div>
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I'm not suicidal, or homicidal or a danger to myself or others, but I am inching ever closer to the edge of a cliff I've jumped off many times before. With each day that passes I lose the will to stop myself. Historically, my kids have been the reason I snap out of it. I don't want to be <i>that</i> mom, but when I talk myself out of it I'm never saying "no, you can't do this". My internal dialogue is more like "soon enough, you can jump." I do realize this is fucked up in more than a few ways, but the beauty is that I don't care.</div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-30611566976845751272013-04-19T21:26:00.001-07:002013-04-19T21:27:01.324-07:00The notion of being a "grown up"I remember the day, in college, when I first glimpsed at the notion that the invisible line between being a child and being an adult had always been a figment of world's collective imagination. I'd always assumed some sort of enlightenment would reign down on me so I could acquire the secret knowledge of "grown-ups" and move forward with my life, but the ridiculousness of that epiphanous assumption slapped me in the face like the hand of a disapproving mother. Since then, I've been confronted, numerous times, with the scary reality that being older doesn't really mean you're better equipped to deal with life.<br />
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The truth is, though the world may see an adult and expect you to behave as such, you're never really a "grown up" in your own mind. </div>
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You're always just the person you've always been with no more answers than you had before, there's no unfaltering foundation upon which to lay the confidence of your decisions, actions, knowledge, etc. </div>
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You're just surviving, and sometimes that comes with happiness and easy decisions, but other times there's darkness and moments so difficult to navigate that you'd rather just..not. I keep finding myself slipping into unnavigable territory because being a "grown up" is too cumbersome. </div>
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The caveat here, though, is that I'm trying to navigate this with my child when I don't have any more of an idea what the future holds than he does. </div>
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He is struggling with a difficult situation, a situation that feels more than unfair and disgusting, and I have to be the grown up. </div>
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We are struggling.</div>
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He needs me. I have to cross that invisible line and be the strength he needs. I am supposed to have an answer for him when he asks me why he should care about living if his life is being fucked over by his own brain. </div>
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How does a "grown up" answer that question?</div>
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Keeping in mind that the "grown-up" in question here is the one who made him. <br />
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I made him. </div>
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Think about that, </div>
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my body made this child who is being attacked by the faulty wiring in his brain, </div>
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and now I'm supposed to tell him that it's going to be ok.</div>
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The irony is that it makes me want my own mother to cross that invisible line...I want her to be the grown up and fix it for me, so I can fix it for him.</div>
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The notion of being a "grown-up" is a fraudulent one, </div>
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and I feel duped.</div>
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</div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-18293851422989536332013-04-14T15:23:00.002-07:002013-04-14T15:23:52.132-07:00Fu$K, Sh*t, C^ck! Tourette's SUCKSIt's been awhile...<br />
get over it...<br />
<br />
So my 12yo son has Tourette's Syndrome, I've <a href="http://www.suburbanpsychotic.blogspot.com/2011/09/t-word.html">written about it before</a> and I wish I could say things have gotten better since then, but that wouldn't be totally true.<br />
I've finally realized that I must accept the fact that we will be living with this for awhile, if not forever. I'm trying to just go on with life and learn to deal with other people's ugliness (you know, the staring, the laughing, the videoing, the complaints). I'm trying to focus on the positive of the situation, i.e. my son still lives with the notion that things will be OK, but some days dealing with TS just S.U.C.K.S.<br />
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It's one of those disorders that sneaks up on you. Just when you think you have things under control, a new, more life altering tic appears, and you're flung back to the beginning of the race. Recently we started with the cussing tics, which I had been so thankful that we didn't have, but we learned to deal and things seemed to improve. Today though, the cursing turned to racial slurs...yes <i>that</i> word, and now I'm scared. I'm scared to let him go to school. I'm scared to let him go anywhere. I have had more than one family member laugh at his inappropriate cussing, but no one is going to laugh at this.<br />
He's going to go out there and get his ass kicked, and I won't be around to explain that he isn't a racist. He's so far from it...He has no hatred or intolerance for anyone (excluding his brothers, and the willfully ignorant).<br />
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I worry that I am not made of the stuff it takes to deal with this. I worry that I'll be the one to crumble and he'll be helping me. I don't want to be one of those family's looking for more initials to diagnose my kid with. I just want this fucking disorder to leave my kid alone. I want to be able to keep it in perspective and be grateful that it isn't terminal or physically debilitating (though it could be the latter at some point), but right now I'm stuck in this pissed off place. People have praised us for our strength in dealing with this, he's the only one with strength. I just try to time my face-in-the-pillow-screaming-fits so that no one can see. I'm such a wimp, I don't deserve him and he doesn't deserve Tourette's!!!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-52815570282939290802012-01-22T11:33:00.000-08:002012-01-22T11:59:57.586-08:00Flash mob sob...I was recently invited to be part of a flash mob, (I should clarify that I wasn't personally sought out for this flash mob, it was more of a general friend request from a friend of mine). Unfortunately, I had to decline for so many reasons, but it did peek my interest in flash mobs in general. I, have seen them on TV before like<a href="http://youtu.be/CttB6FmMgT4"> this one on Oprah</a> or <a href="http://youtu.be/nm0jRQwzKtQ">this one from Modern Family</a>, but it wasn't until I had seen several that I finally took notice of the effect they have on me...<br />The really good ones make me cry... One of the reasons that I didn't initially notice was that my eyes tear up at a lot of things lately, but none are quite as consistent as the 'flash mob sob.' (sob is too strong a word really).<br />I am not sure why it happens to me, I want to believe it's because I am overwhelmed by the power people can have when they work as one. I'm always amazed when large groups of people unite for a common purpose, it ALWAYS gives me goosebumps. But flash mobs are more than that. It's a group of people who have come together, maybe to make a statement, or to put a smile on other's faces, or to inspire, or just for fun, but I'd be hard pressed to find a more joyful way to make time stand still, to force others to stop the business of life and just be in the moment and enjoy, for a brief time, the human experience. Onlookers almost always stop and watch and cheer, though I'm sure this is diminished with the number of flash mobs experienced by the audience members (but really what are the chances of experiencing multiple flash mobs?).<br /> Obviously I find them to be a pretty powerful experience, so I guess it makes sense that they cause me to emote in such a way. Of all the things that don't evoke much response from me, I'd have to admit that I'm a little embarrassed that I react this way to a group of dancers. I'll just choose to believe my reaction is evidence of my deep connection to the human experience, to the power of a group to impact life in a positive way, to joy for the sole purpose of joy. <br />BUT, It's also possible that my reaction is a result of my inability to dance...<br />Either way, I'm adding "witness or participate in a flash mob" to my bucket list.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-59575283106878175742011-12-27T04:05:00.000-08:002011-12-27T04:42:30.421-08:00I love presents..No, really, I do. I mean, I REALLY love presents. Not just getting them either, I love giving them, wrapping them, receiving them, watching others give and receive them, etc. etc. I just love presents. One of the reasons I couldn't get into the holiday spirit this year was because I had decided, for many reasons, to simplify my life and give out only gift cards. I do credit this decision for saving my sanity, I needed things to be simple since I am THAT close to a mental break, but it still kinda deflated the whole joyfulness thing (although, I think the recipients of my gift cards were rather pleased).<br />Personally, I do enjoy the gift card, I like having the power to go choose the things I want for myself, but what I love even more is receiving something that someone else picked out just for me. Just knowing someone spent time thinking of something they thought I would like makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Once I have been given a gift, I will always remember who gave it to me and I will think of that person when I am using/wearing/looking at the gift...(see I can be deep and meaningful)<br />I am sure I place too much importance on what a gift says about my relationship with the giver, but at least I acknowledge that! This year, however, my love affair with presents has left me a little befuddled. For the most part, the gift giving/receiving went as planned, and I got some very thoughtful gifts for which I am grateful, (I can't say the gifts I gave were thoughtful because although gift cards are many things, thoughtful is not one of them). But, at one of the family Christmas gift exchanges I attended, I received two gifts that left me scratching my head.<br />The first was a box of sugar-free chocolate covered almonds. To me, this gift says many things which are not limited too:<br />1. When we stopped at Walgreens, on the way here, this was all they had left.<br />2. Hey, you're so fat, we thought you could possibly be diabetic so we went with the sugar free.<br />3. We hate you.<br /><br />The second gift I got was a pair of tarnished, silver earrings that look like giant insect wings. Maybe a dragonfly, I just don't know. This gift says so much, like:<br />1. Your face is so hideous I thought you could distract people with a giant pair of wings hanging from your ears.<br />2. I bought this for someone else, years ago, and forgot to give it to them, so SCORE for you.<br />3. I don't think enough of you to even try to hide the fact these earrings have been sitting in the back of a closet for years. The tarnish will come off easily and you will be so purdy.<br />4. This will look so good while you're petting your 32 cats.<br />5. I hate you.<br /><br />I hate to seem ungrateful and there is a decent chance that no one saw the amused indifference on my face. I mean, a gift is a gift and I am happy just to be thought of...I'm just not sure I want to know what people are thinking when they think of me...<br />I guess I'll go drown myself in a box sugar-free chocolate covered almonds, I have some of those you know!!!!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-62588502797591272892011-12-22T23:42:00.001-08:002011-12-23T00:15:16.774-08:00Watching it go up in smoke...Well, Christmas is two days away, and honestly, it couldn't feel less like the holidays around here. I'm pretty much hating that other people are happy and joyful right now, and I'm hating myself for not being able to make it all ok for my kids. I hate that they may look back at this Christmas and remember nothing but SUCK!!!<br />What had happened was...<br />My husband has had a bad back for most of our relationship. His back will go out, and then it will get better. That is just the way it has been for the last 11 years or so. So, when his back went out this summer I really didn't get too concerned. The problem is that his back is still 'out' and it has been about 5 months.<br />Right before Thanksgiving, her decided to cash in his 3 months of short term disability to focus on physical therapy and try to get better. One of the great things about his job, and there are many great things, is the fabulous benefits. He gets 3 months of fully paid leave, then his pay goes down to 65%. The 65% thing is scary, but we could manage it for awhile...<br />He has seen SEVERAL doctors, neurologist, neurosurgeons, orthopedic surgeons and now a pain management Dr. and they have almost all said the same thing, patience and physical therapy. We recently went to a Dr. who is recommending <a href="http://www.spine-health.com/treatment/spinal-fusion/anterior-lumbar-interbody-fusion-alif-surgery">ALIF</a> surgery, also known as spinal fusion, on the two 'bad' discs he has. This is major scary surgery and we've had a 2nd opinion with a Dr. who thinks he should wait it out a bit, but my husband is fixated. He is thinking this surgery is going to 'fix' him. This is despite the fact that both the first opinion and 2nd opinion are telling him that there is no way to tell if it will be the fix or not. We don't even know if the insurance would pay for it, so it is possible that it may NEVER happen anyway...<br />The real problem is...<br />My husband is not working. There is also no way to predict when he will be able to get back to work. His job is only guaranteed for 6 months, after that they do not have to give him his spot back. If he continues with the PT he can go back as soon as he feels good enough. If he has the surgery it is at least a 3 month recoup. period. His drop dead date is May 11th. which seems so far off, but really it isn't. It is ironic because he found out he had the job on March 11. He began on April 11th, so it just seems appropriate that he could lose the job on May 11th. <br />Here's the thing...<br />He LOVES his job. It really defines him in a lot of ways. I cannot even make myself imagine him without it for sooooooo many reasons. First of all he makes good money. Money we depend on, money we have based major life decisions on money we NEED to get by. I know money isn't everything, but it is definitely something!!!! And the benefits, he could have comparable benefits if he stays in the same industry, but it scares me shitless to think we could lose everything this company does for our lives. I mean we pay $120/month for awesome health insurance for the entire family, who gets that???? It is a shift work job, but that really works for our family. My husband has so much more time with the kids than he would otherwise. He is so close with our 4 year old because they spend all his off days together, he's off 6 months out of the year... He's almost always available to go to their school or to get them in the afternoon, etc. etc. There are drawbacks to the shift work, but for us, the benefits far outweigh them.<br />When it comes down to it, I know that no job is more important than his health and happiness. I get that. I want him to feel good and be capable of the life he wants more than anything else, BUT I am SCARED. I am scared that we depend on his back to support us because I make less than half of what he makes, and now we may lose everything. There is no plan B. I can't stop crying and stressing and worrying. I watch his every move to see if he looks better or worse. I study his facial expression for any sign of hope that he is improving and on the days he isn't I can hardly take it. When I am clear headed I can rationalize that even if he loses this job, he is still very capable of finding another good one where he will be happy, assuming that he gets better...BUT what if he never gets better? Then what?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-5106041482162366722011-09-16T16:23:00.000-07:002011-09-16T17:01:09.230-07:00The "T" word.I'm not sure if blogging about this is the right thing to do, but writing is how I process my thoughts and feelings, so read if you want and judge if it makes you feel better. This is real life, not some sugar coated version of things that I am hoping to remember later. If you can't handle that "X" out and don't come back.<br /><br />My oldest son has been diagnosed with Tourette's. I won't get into the details, just because it is boring, but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't devastated. I have cried everyday for over two weeks now (even before he was officially diagnosed, I knew). I want to help him, I want to make it better, I want to be able to crawl into his brain and flip the switch that makes him tic. I can't, and it KILLS me.<br />Apparently, his is a pretty mild case, but the future is unknown. I have spent many hours reading about Tourette's and though it does seem that once you have it it is there to stay, it also looks like, as you move through adolescence, it gradually gets better, for most people, and the tics become fewer and further between. The version of Tourette's, where people are randomly cursing or yelling out words is actually very rare, a fact I'm finding A LOT of comfort in.<br />I hate everything about this.<br />I hate that I know people will read this and be grateful it isn't them and their child. They will go and kiss and hug their tic free kids and thank god for their good fortune. I HATE them for that. If I believed in god I'd be so fucking pissed off at him right now. I don't want prayers or support or pity, I just want to rewind 3 weeks. To go back to the time before he started having all these crazy tics. This is so fucking unfair. <br />I want to be a rock of support for my child. I want him to feel loved and cherished. I want him to know that he has Tourette's but Tourette's DOES NOT have him. I want him to love himself. I'm so fucking scared that I do not have the right tools to help him deal with this. I am so disappointed in myself for the way I've reacted to the news. Of course, I haven't let him know I'm feeling this way. I am putting on a brave face for him, but he knows me well enough to know I'm sad. <br />I try to only cry when I am alone. Car rides are the worst, as soon as I get in the car by myself I just go ahead and put on my sunglasses because the tears are inevitable.<br />I have cried myself to sleep every night, if I wake up to pee, I cry myself to sleep again. I wish I could take his tics and give them to myself. I'm an adult with a solid self esteem, I could give a fuck what people think of me, why does this crap have to happen to a child who is entering the one of the hardest times in his life, junior high?!?!? It is so fucking UNFAIR.<br /><br />I know I sound angry, I am. I can't release the feelings anywhere else but here on this blog. Feel free to judge my reaction, I really don't give a shit. I am feeling sorry for myself and my son. I'm sure one day I won't, but today is not that day.<br />I know this isn't the worst thing that could've happened to us, I get that. But that doesn't change the fact that it really, really sucks!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-77469880068704605842011-06-17T11:04:00.000-07:002011-06-19T21:59:23.897-07:00Enough Said.I know I have a tendency to reveal too much about myself, so in order to be discreet I'm not going to SAY much...<br /><br />I just made the appointment.<br /><br />I'm already a little nauseated.<br /><br />But soon, what once looked like this: <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91mkhyk1tbwrPptpTQfDgsjcm-YxvxIwhMvG7I2POuTlx2NhJXeihV0ioQAveBQsHWMXX5-uA2GZ41_2uSK7BhUwWhnL7BLHs97O-ft39mwMz9nY3xEKH7nv7KabOReXJddZn69vIXq0/s1600/hedge_trimming.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91mkhyk1tbwrPptpTQfDgsjcm-YxvxIwhMvG7I2POuTlx2NhJXeihV0ioQAveBQsHWMXX5-uA2GZ41_2uSK7BhUwWhnL7BLHs97O-ft39mwMz9nY3xEKH7nv7KabOReXJddZn69vIXq0/s320/hedge_trimming.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619251445408276306" /></a><br /><br /><em>Stop judging me, I'm German.</em><br /><br />Will soon look like this:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfauuvrIkpHcAuUC6P55SjsmIYoQMpBM8dQlP5kHJDCF8azVUATG2REQYBmknOVTZpAXYPyfj7oHIbsqymduiTxLr_qm9QAQnOdxLsfGP1fPyoda05VbbmRp1zDPVQDZ2wBk4uHtl5sos/s1600/taofr-1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 91px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfauuvrIkpHcAuUC6P55SjsmIYoQMpBM8dQlP5kHJDCF8azVUATG2REQYBmknOVTZpAXYPyfj7oHIbsqymduiTxLr_qm9QAQnOdxLsfGP1fPyoda05VbbmRp1zDPVQDZ2wBk4uHtl5sos/s320/taofr-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619251566172041858" /></a><br /><br />Two more days....<br /><br />Enough said.<br /><br />I'm going to go vomit, repeatedly, now.<br /><br />Edited to add: Okay, much to my surprise it wasn't THAT bad, I only said "motherf*cker" twice, and I never lost consciousness.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-55740379232671401452011-06-01T07:02:00.000-07:002011-06-03T03:40:37.122-07:00Welcome to my home, please fart in my kitchen.Ok, I realize I am lacking in the area of social skills, and I have suspected, occasionally, that I'm just a little autistic because there are so many social expectations and customs that I just. do. not. get! The unfortunate part for me is that other people see my lack of participation in these customs as a sign that I am a total bitch. Side Note: I am a total bitch, just not for this reason.<br />More to the point, we have been spending a lot of time with some friends of ours, here at our house. It is a beautiful relationship because they have 4 kids, all the perfect ages to get along with our three, and I get along with the wife and The hub gets along with the husband. We have even planned a vacation together this summer, and I'm so excited!! After spending a couple weekends together, swimming, eating and drinking (too much) the wife, we'll call her Eugenia, told me that I was rude for not ever offering her a drink when she comes over, she always has to get a one for herself.<br />Wait, what?<br />Eugenia went on to inform me that you're supposed to offer people a drink when they come over and I never do it, then she took it a little too far when she also mentioned that I don't have anything good to drink anyway (I guess that's neither here nor there, but I wanted to mention it to point out that I'm not the only rude person on the planet).<br />Of course I am aware that this drink thing is meant as a means to make guests feel more at home in your house, but why a drink?<br />Whenever I go to another person's house I don't get randomly thirsty upon crossing their threshold. A drink just seems so arbitrary? Why not ask them if they'd like to go flush the toilet or fart in the kitchen? Why is it a drink? I can think of about 10 other things I could offer my guests that could make them feel at home and are just as random as a drink. <br />* Come in, would you like to fold the towels?<br />* Hey there, would you like to use my pen?<br />* Can I offer you dryer sheet?<br />* Please come in, help yourself to some garlic powder.<br />* Would you like some paper to make an airplane with?<br />* Welcome to my home, would you like to sniff my laundry room?<br />* Come on in, see if you can find my dildo.<br />* Welcome, feel free to count the boogers on the wall next to my son's bed...<br />...ok, You get the point...<br />I know you're sitting there thinking "What the hell is wrong with this woman?!?!" and, well, if I could answer that I probably wouldn't have just written an entire blog post about how baffled I am about needing to offer someone a drink when they come to my house in order for them to NOT think I'm a rude bitch. Alas, I am flawed, and rude, and Eugenia (along with anyone else) is just going to have to get over it. <br /><br />But, if you do ever come over to my house, please help yourself to a drink because I won't remember to offer you one, or you could just make it easy on all of us and just go fart in my kitchen.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-74175338888177059322011-05-04T16:50:00.000-07:002011-05-04T16:54:22.632-07:00Phew...So I <span style="font-weight:bold;">DO NOT</span> have a brain tumor :)<br />I am no longer deaf in my right ear either :) <br />I do have Cochlear Hydrops, and I still have to take a daily medicine to treat it :(<br />But it might not ever progress past that (aka, I might not start randomly falling down after all) :)<br />Just thought you should know!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-45680490441538699032011-04-24T11:32:00.001-07:002011-04-24T14:12:03.400-07:008 Reasons I think Easter is lame.*I don't hate Jesus, I'm just not Christian.<br />*A bunny that hides eggs is STUPID, no bunnies hide anything at my house. <br />*I DO NOT need any unsolicited chocolate at my house.<br />*I don't eat ham.<br />*Deviled eggs are overrated, but I do love the irony of serving them at an Easter lunch;)<br />*I don't want to take leftovers home, my in-laws get offended by this.<br />*I have found it is better to lie and say that I do celebrate Easter than to tell people the truth. I mean really, is there anything better than someone trying to save me and my poor heathen children in the middle of the grocery store?<br />* I do NOT want to go to church with you, or you or you, and I'm tired of explaining why.<br /><br />On the other hand, those cadbury mini-eggs are freaking fabulous, disregard the 8 bullet points above if that is the Easter you'd like to share with me.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-24359982165737202932011-04-22T19:08:00.000-07:002011-04-22T19:20:16.097-07:00Things to think about...I had an MRI of my brain today. I thought I would get claustrophobic, but I didn't. <br />It wasn't too bad. <br />It's a rather sobering experience when a doctor wants to check your brain for tumors and such. I'm not all that worried, but I'd be lying if I said that I haven't been pondering the possibilities....<br />I just want to live long enough to mother my children into adulthood and a brain tumor could get in the way of that.<br />I'm really not worried. <br />It is funny, though, how long it has taken me to get to know myself. <br /> I just realized that when I worry, you know,the neurotic-all encompassing, stomach wrenching type of worry, it's usually when I have absolutely no reason to.<br />When I have cause for worry, I get this weird calm about me, I get all philosophical and, to be honest, kind of douchey.<br /> See what a big person I am for being able to admit that about myself? Yeah, I'm impressed by that too.<br /><br />Another thing I learned today...<br />Don't fart in an MRI machine when you still have 40 minutes of scan to sit through...Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-60815528748560173732011-04-02T09:07:00.000-07:002011-04-02T09:47:39.435-07:00Kharma...I have a sick and twisted sense of humor, this is a fact about myself I've never tried to hide (not that I could if I wanted to). I laugh at inappropriate things, often in an otherwise quiet room. I say things that, I think, are hilarious, but other people find offensive. I crack myself up, while people stare at me with a blank expression. You get the point!<br />One of the things that I find totally hilarious is when someone falls down. I know I'm not alone in this, but I am one of the few people that lack the first, seemingly instinctual, reaction of finding out if the person is okay BEFORE I bend over laughing at them. I can't help it, if someone falls down (or even has a near miss) I'm probably going to laugh until I cry, fart or snort. The time I am most ashamed of was when I was starting a new teaching job (<a href="http://suburbanpsychotic.blogspot.com/2009/06/interviews-emails-and-rejection.html">for principal bitchface</a>) and I was attending all the new teacher orientations before the school year. For one of the trainings we had to ride a bus to another location, and, well, long story short, the lady directly behind me on the bus BUSTED HER ASS coming down the stairs to get off. My reaction was not Kosher and I did not make any friends that day, but it wasn't completely my fault since the lady made some really ridiculous groaning noises after her tumble. I'm pretty sure if I had tried not to laugh I would've stroked out right there. I did feel a twinge of guilt when she showed up the next day wearing some sort of ridiculous, fully-loaded, ankle-boot, but whatever!<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Kharma part is coming, just stay with me!</span><br />About 4 months ago, I got a sinus infection that moved to my ear. My ear just felt full and I couldn't hear anything out of it. I went to the Dr. a few times, trying to get my ear back to functional and, well, that has yet to happen. This week, I finally got serious and went to an ENT, not just any ENT, <span style="font-weight:bold;">THE</span> ENT in Houston. His report was not what I wanted to hear, I have sudden onset nerve deafness in my ear that is probably permanent. I can still hear most of the range of human voice, but I will have trouble hearing deep men's voices (this may be a benefit living in my house). Because I am young, and otherwise healthy, I have to do some tests to rule out all the big bad causes like tumors and such, there is a very low chance of these actually being the cause, (no, I'm not concerned). <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">And now for the Kharma...</span><br />What he thinks the diagnosis will end up being is something called cochlear hydrops which is often the beginning of Miniere's disease. Miniere's disease isn't fatal, but can be debilitating because of the sudden and intense episodes of vertigo which cause people to...<br /><br />SUDDENLY...<br /> AND UNEXPECTEDLY...<br /> FALL DOWN!!!<br /><br />SONOFABITCH<br /><br />I'm hoping this is not the diagnosis, but looking at all the options, this one isn't the worst. The vertigo will go away eventually after something called "burn-out" which means total deafness in the ear. I just hope I'm not surrounded by people like me, when I randomly drop to the floor. Someone's gonna have to help me get back up....Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-45577801825918107192011-03-02T15:01:00.000-08:002011-03-02T15:08:50.998-08:00Still here...I'm still here, just REALLY REALLY busy. So busy, in fact, that I keep thinking I should shut this "blog" down, but it isn't hurting anything sitting idle and sometimes I amuse myself by going back into old posts.<br />I do have ALOT to write about too, just no time to write or even process what is going on enough to form a coherent thought.<br /><br />My birthday is tomorrow and I have to say I'm a little disappointed. For some (completely illogical reason) I thought 33 was going to be MY year. It wasn't. On a happy note, it looks like I should finish my degree in about 18 more months (or 2 years, whatever)! I'm pretty sure I still have a job for next school year AND my marriage, which was on the verge, is now better than ever! SOOOO Maybe 34 is MY year...Guess we'll see!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-8935171072213770442010-12-12T07:05:00.001-08:002010-12-12T07:17:24.075-08:00Nothing to sayI haven't written in FOREVER, but really you should consider that a gift from me to you. I, honestly, have nothing to say! I could tell you about all the shit going down in my life right now, but if I did that I'm pretty sure this would be your last click over here. I mean do you really want to hear about how I have put the hubs on notice that if he didn't take a more active role in the holiday goings on of our house, it would, without exception be the last time we weren't taking turns having the children for the holidays??? Probably not... Or do you want to hear about what a terrible mother I am because I am to the point of not be able to stand my children while their father is gone, working 72 to 84 hours a week??? No, you say? Or how some really good friendships that I have had have now apparently morhped into some weird new thing that has no name??? I can't blame you I wouldn't either!?!? Or how my oldest son is being bullied for not believing in god, and how we had to have a come to jesus meeting (irony, I know) with some parents (and children) about the way they are allowing/instructing their children to treat him??? My eyes burn just thinking of it. Maybe you want to hear about how I diagnosed myself with advanced terminal melanoma, gave myself only weeks to live,and cried for 6 days until I could get in to see the dermatologist??? Well that story is a maybe!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-42561380741111141442010-08-11T18:21:00.000-07:002010-08-11T19:16:09.247-07:0010. set. hut.My oldest son is 9. He is so smart, he's a great conversationalist, he has superior looks (he does favor me but I'm totally objective in this opinion) and he can be so sweet and charming at will. He is also a bit quirky and occasionally socially awkward, but his greatest flaw is that he is about as coordinated as the left testicle of an encephalitic monkey. Parenting him is equal parts challenging, humbling, rewarding and exhausting.<br /><br />We have tried, to no avail, to get him into sports, ANY sport. <br />His baseball coach was visibly perturbed by the fact that was he had to share air with him (we found out definitively that there IS crying in baseball), <br />His tumbling coach gave up and let him run around the gym during practice, <br />His one (free trial) karate lesson ended with him saying "this blows" right in front of the sensai. <br />We did have some luck in basketball, but there was more disdain on the court when number 9 was out there.<br />Needless to say, I was more than taken aback when my husband asked him over dinner, one evening, if he wanted to sign up for football. Aside from the fact that we had "agreed" not to let the boys play full tackle football until junior high, I was concerned about the harmful effects of his multiple, failed attempts to participate in a pyhsical, team sport. Especially one in which paralysis and head injuries are listed among the injuries which may be sustained in playing said sport. BUT I gave in, as I often do because I do want him to be healthy and active. Another consideration is the fact that he is big for his age and as strong as an ox, or Lenny from <span style="font-style:italic;">Of Mice and Men</span> (choose your own simile here).<br /><br />Fast Forward to his first practice. He hustled like we have NEVER seen him hustle before. The hubs and I were both overjoyed that he seemed to have found a sport that he liked and was willing to put effort into. He left the field smiling and happy and was excited to go back the next day. We practically fell over ourselves giving each other high five's.<br />The second practice, well it was different. They had to wear full pads which meant that they would be tackling. I put my faith in the coaches to teach my son proper techniques and form before throwing him out there, but I was soon educated on the fact that "that isn't how it is done in football." Ummmm Yeah. He had NO IDEA what to do, and these coaches were yelling at him, using terminology he'd never heard before and threatening laps for insubordination. When the hubs tried to tell me that that is the way to teach, I unleashed (mildly) due to the fact that <span style="font-weight:bold;">I'm a teacher and I know better</span> even if I don't know shit about football.<br />Why I thought this group of coaches, whose collective IQ probably still borders on low average and who seem to be dealing with some leftover frustration for never making it past the JV team in high school, would take the time to actually coach is really just beyond me.<br />Needless to say he HATES football now, but I'm hesitant to let him quit. I mean, life is hard, sometimes things are challenging. Learning a little tenacity could go a long way in shaping him as a man, but then again so could quadriplegia.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-11263991453883246912010-08-02T15:57:00.000-07:002010-08-02T16:01:46.409-07:00Glitter and Unicorns<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxoeji9nArh7TdO7yisxPqFC-SpybRP5MgPVtfpS5J3f8S-rCjQBoVXzcuraz8wJgzS8EeflaptRTY1CK0PhQWtvWRSrKTBKNpJajAwmRXjlZVpYn3zpjCn46_NRNTFV4U1ieNd7q5qOM/s1600/Glitter-Unicorn-Click-on-to-see-her-Sparkle-unicorns-5851380-329-392.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxoeji9nArh7TdO7yisxPqFC-SpybRP5MgPVtfpS5J3f8S-rCjQBoVXzcuraz8wJgzS8EeflaptRTY1CK0PhQWtvWRSrKTBKNpJajAwmRXjlZVpYn3zpjCn46_NRNTFV4U1ieNd7q5qOM/s320/Glitter-Unicorn-Click-on-to-see-her-Sparkle-unicorns-5851380-329-392.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500951528622340370" /></a><br />NO, not really. I just needed to prove (to my most loyal reader, the other 3 of you should take note)that I can make ANYTHING happen.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-90895625637172302352010-07-21T20:56:00.001-07:002010-07-21T21:21:08.951-07:00I still cannot sing...When I was in 3rd grade my mom told me I could "be anything (I) wanted to be" and I believed her. I wanted to be a singer, she encouraged it. I stayed up late for 4 nights in a row hand-writing 3 original songs in my blue, wide-ruled spiral notebook. I practiced in front of the mirror, I practiced in front of my mom. I believed I was on my way to the Mickey Mouse club (which is the starting point for all great singers). I just needed an in, MOM suggested Star-Search. Perfect! She was always so full of good suggestions. I made an audition tape to send to Ed, I was ready to go... THEN (dun dun dun duuuuuuun) I listened to the tape......<br />Mom Fucking lied to me. <br />I sounded like a tone deaf cat with a hormone imbalance....<br />I couldn't even listen to the first song in it's entirety. <br />It was too painful. <br /><br />What if the doctoral program is the same thing?<br />What if I'm not really smart enough to be there?<br />What if I am smart enough, what the hell am I going to do with this gratuitous degree anyway?<br />I doubt myself, my abilities, my ambition and tenacity.<br />I need to listen to the tape to gauge my worthiness and chances of success.<br /><br />I still cannot sing.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-31594629505035530992010-07-13T15:35:00.000-07:002010-07-13T16:10:15.551-07:00It's called 'psychotic' for a reason...I've been getting nailed for some of the things I said in my Marriage Cycle post, so I'm gonna clear a few things up.<br />First of all, it was a tongue in cheek post, if you couldn't see that then well, there is probably no hope for you anyway. I have no qualifications to dispense marriage advice except that I'm married, so what I say here means, nothing.<br /><br />Secondly obviously there are exceptions, like if:<br /><br />You have no children: Obviously a marriage without children is going to be an entirely different experience. I'm not saying it is any less of an experience, its just different. Sharing responsibility for not fucking up your kids is gonna change things, both for better and for worse sometimes...I'm sure I'd never leave phase 1 or 2 if the only things we argued about is where to eat dinner or where to take our next vacation.WHATEVER<br /><br />You have been married a short time: My breaking point came at about 8 years. If you're sick of your spouse in the first few years of marriage then you should probably just run or brace yourself for a drinking problem.<br /><br />You're delusional: If I know you well enough to have seen you experiencing a phase 3-4 moment and you are still telling me that you've never been out of 1 or 2...WHATEVER. Oh and btw, the phases are totally made up if you didn't already know that.<br /><br />I knew a few people who disagreed with my post and, well, whatever, but when I was cornered by a 'friend' (who does not read this blog) in Target about how she was concerned about my marriage because she'd heard (since someone who does read the blog has been talking about me) that I'd discussed my issues in such a public way.(insert eye-roll and violent gagging here) I was more than a little bit annoyed. Especially since this person has the most fucked up marriage I've ever seen. Thankfully she is praying for me, so everything should improve soon.<br /><br />It was a JOKE, yes I'm pissed at my husband for some assholish behavior, but I'm not going anywhere. I mean there are days when I dream of replacing him with an efficient landlord (to fix things) and a good vibrator (to, well, you know), but he does posses some redeeming qualities......(I'll cite examples when I can think of some) <br /><br />When I am 34 (next year) I will have been with him for exactly half of my life, so yeah, shit hits the fan occasionally. I don't really think that means I need to be on your prayer list.<br /><br />As far as discussing my issues here...check out the title of my blog, did you expect me to talk about rainbows and bunny rabbits?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-8779804873056922182010-07-05T17:47:00.000-07:002010-07-10T13:44:35.715-07:00Out of Context...We survived our mini-road trip and returned intact.<br />I thought I'd share some of the conversation that took place during the 'quality time' we spent together in the car, the hotel, the restaurants, my sister's house, etc, etc. Many of them are fart themed, but I do have 3 boys so is there really anything else to talk about?<br />You'll have to enjoy them without the context in which they were spoken, but that's mostly because further explanation would just highlight the depth of our insanity<br /><br />1. "I'm a farting expert, just bust it out and come back to the table."<br /><br />2. "What the hell is a 'dream tomato', Please tell me you didn't think this was a song about vegetables?"<br /><br />3. "That hair is at least 4 inches away from the hole, WTF is that about???"<br /><br />4. "Is this what beaver really tastes like?"<br /><br />5. "I think I should just throw these away, that last fart had a little surprise with it."<br /><br />6. "There really isn't anything I can do about your penis right this minute."<br /><br />7."I will play the wiener song if you stay quiet while I'm on the phone."<br /><br />8. "All I've eaten for 3 days is beans, staying 10 feet away from you isn't going to change anything."<br /><br />9. "Girls can't wear their underwear 2 days in a row because their balls smell worse than ours."<br /><br />10. "I don't like girls, I like you Mommy, I just don't like <em>pretty</em> girls"Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-79376335119105904132010-07-03T05:30:00.000-07:002010-07-03T05:33:47.010-07:00If I was going to be a drummer....<a href="http://listoftheday.blogspot.com/2010/07/cover-music-video-of-day-zz-top.html">This</a> is the one I would be. Watch the video, while you're there check out the rest of the blog. Hopefully I'm on the road by the time this is posted.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-5341830996550764162010-07-02T18:05:00.001-07:002010-07-02T18:31:16.242-07:00In search of the muchnessI have to get out of this place, and as long as the weather cooperates I plan to do just that tomorrow. The boys and I are taking a (way too) short road trip to Austin to see my sister and her family. I really love road trips, even with a car full of boys who fart and fight and request pee stops way too often.<br />Maybe I'll come back with a few blog worthy stories to tell, or maybe I won't.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-49521054630095178302010-07-01T05:31:00.000-07:002010-07-01T06:07:47.553-07:00The Marriage CycleWhen I was younger (as in way too young to be making life altering decisions) I could not wait to get married. I couldn't see any reason why being married would be a bad thing, why we wouldn't be able to weather any storm that came our way. Fast forward to live tv and I'm stuck in this 'WTF was I thinking' moment, hour, lifetime.<br /><br />See I see marriage as a 5 point cycle that goes something like this:<br /><br />1. I LOVE you and find you amusing.<br />2. I love you and you're okay to be around.<br />3. I like you but do not penetrate the 5 foot barrier<br />4. I tolerate you because divorce is expensive<br />5. Please, if there is a merciful god, swoop down here and get me OUT!<br /><br />(the only part of the cycle that can be skipped is number 5, skipping any other point would result in complete annihilation of the human race and leave Earth uninhabitable to mammals, or maybe it would just indicate a need for a few sessions with a marriage and family therapist, whatever)<br /><br />I've talked to several experts (aka people I know who are married (and authentic)) and they all agree because, well if they didn't agree, I would revoke their 'expert' status.<br /><br />Finding yourself somewhere in this cycle at any given point in your married life is totally okay as long as you don't stay in one place too long. You must force yourself to move through the cycle, so you can get back to the good parts.<br /><br />If you are one of those people who believes that you always stay at points 1 and 2 there are a couple things you should know.<br />1. You are a fucking liar.<br />2. People think you smell like cheese because, clearly, it oozes from your pores.<br />3. If you tell me about your marriage, I will not believe you, or I will think you are just too stupid to actually experience the full realm of human emotions, and I will be tempted to simultaneously punch you in the pancreas while ripping out your uvula.<br /><br />Anyway, I think you might be able to see where I currently am in the marriage cycle. (#5 for the dumb readers) The same stupid fight, over and over and over. I told him I wanted to leave, I even looked for apartments. #1 better be right around the corner, or there may be trouble ahead.<br /><br />On another note, I get to assist in a research project involving Ipads and the Houston Children's Museum. I'm really excited, maybe I'll blog about it.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-52642891049330566292010-06-25T17:32:00.000-07:002010-06-25T17:35:49.425-07:00Physical Perfection<p><object style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/vESE6AlD_ZY/hqdefault.jpg)" height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vESE6AlD_ZY&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vESE6AlD_ZY&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></p><p></p><p>This video has been on Disney Channel for a few years. My middle child who is now six and has moved on to more, eh, mature cartoons like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">spongebob</span> and chowder had forgotten all about this video. At one time he would stop whatever he was doing to come watch this song. I'd like to tell you it was because he has such an ear for music or an eye for dancing, but if you watch the video you'd find that hard to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">believe</span>. No, he would watch any video with this girl in it and turn and say, </p><blockquote></blockquote><p>"Mommy I wish you looked like her." </p><p>"Uh, yeah son I'll <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">uhhhh</span> work on that." </p><p>This is the child that likes to critique my choice of clothes, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">jewelry</span> and the way I am wearing (or not wearing) my makeup. He is also very concerned with his own appearance as well, he dresses himself and always makes sure to match, cleans all the dirt off his shoes, and we can spend forever making sure his baseball uniform is just right. (Yes these might be red flags, and I have to admit it puts a little joy in my heart at the thought of it, but I digress)</p><p>Anyway from the time he was 3.5 until about 5 years old he would remind me what exactly I should be aiming for in my physical appearance. Thin, long black hair, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">preferably</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Latin</span> decent, sharpie <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">eyebrows</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">gaudy</span> hoop earrings. Almost every time I would come up short, and he was usually <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ok</span> with that. Occasionally I would have to reassure him that it is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ok</span> that his mom wasn't a hot <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Disney</span> Channel train conductor, it wasn't the end of the world. At some point he grew out of his obsession with my looks, although he still gives me plenty of helpful advice to help in my pursuit of physical perfection.</p><p>Anyway, today this video happened to come on while he was in the room. He stopped, looked at me, looked back at the TV and said, </p><p>"Yeah, you still don't look like her. I guess that will never happen!" </p><p>And gave me the best look of condolence he could muster. It kinda reminded me of the way the judges on American idol look at the bat-shit crazy reject contestants that everyone likes to laugh at.</p><p>I'm such a let down to so many people, for so many reasons.</p><p>Gotta go, I've got an appointment with my eyebrow wax and a Sharpie.</p>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4964603859890289739.post-49795554247696187922010-06-24T07:18:00.000-07:002010-06-24T08:01:29.590-07:00A peek inside...My brain has this amazing ability to latch on to random information (while at the same time completely deleting all information about the locations of my keys and check card) that often makes me appear incoherent to the general population. See its this random information that guides many of my decisions and behaviors and then when I try to explain myself I end up sounding like I need a straight jacket. Instead of constantly trying to explain myself I figured I could create a reference post, so if you ever doubt my sanity you can come here to see that I am a completely rational person.<br /><br />SO this is why:<br /><br />I <a href="http://www.usgs.gov/newsroom/article.asp?ID=2022">hate the beach</a>, it makes complete sense to me that swimming in poo water would be ill advised.<br /><br />I become OCD when I making<a href="http://www.medicinenet.com/trichinosis/article.htm"> pork</a>, or <a href="http://www.medicinenet.com/salmonella/article.htm">chicken</a>. It could kill you, literally.<br /><br />I <a href="http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/causes/radiation-risks-pediatric-CT">refused a CT scan </a>when my 6 year old broke his nose. I really pissed the doctor and radiologists off, but seriously, I was totally justified.<br /><br />I will <a href="http://healthwise-everythinghealth.blogspot.com/2010/06/weight-loss-from-activity-only-works-in.html">always be fat</a>. This is depressing and just makes me want to eat chocolate.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure we will all <a href="http://www.aolnews.com/health/article/study-many-sunscreens-may-be-accelerating-cancer/19488158">die from skin cancer </a>in the end anyways.<br /><br />I don't think I'll ever be able to <a href="http://www.capitalhealth.ca/EspeciallyFor/TravellersHealth/AnimalBorneDiseases/SimianHerpesBVirus.htm">take my kids to India</a>. Damn Monkeys ruin it for everyone.<br /><br />I have so much guilt over <a href="http://www.math.uic.edu/~takata/some_articles/FreshAir_Michael_Pollon_on_beef_industry,_hormones,_antibiotics.html">eating cows</a>. Why must they be so tasty?<br /><br />I won't go to <a href="http://www.apnm.org/campaigns/circus/circus_elephants.php">the circus</a>. The elephants, think of the elephants.<br /><br />I'm scared of <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/07/25/earlyshow/health/main4292754.shtml">granite counter tops</a>. That's right, they are deadly and you will die.<br /><br />I had to replace all my <a href="http://lowfatcooking.about.com/od/healthandfitness/a/nonstickpans.htm">non-stick pots and pans</a>. Food, its gonna kill you.<br /><br />I won't heat anything up in <a href="http://www.mnn.com/lifestyle/health-well-being/blogs/plastic-in-the-microwave-is-bpa-in-your-frozen-dinner">a plastic container</a>. If the food doesn't kill you, the packaging will.<br /><br />I have a few more, but I'll save them for later. Have a fabulous day and try not to die.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00217117919952388882noreply@blogger.com1