To adequately describe tonight's events and for you...my reader...to understand...I must first give you some sort of background. You could not fully appreciate this story without it.My father comes from a family of sixteen children. That's right, folks...my grandma and grandpa didn't have a TV and had to find other ways to entertain themselves. Sixteen children, all of them but one are still living. Imagine, if you will, what Christmas is like at my grandmother's house (my grandfather has passed...from stress, I'd imagine). She lives in an old farm house on 30 some odd acres in Romeo (which is where Kid Rock is from too). The house is actually quite cute and warm in a lived in farm house kind of way. Christmas is always a joke; 15 kids and their spouses and children converging unto grandma's. Well, not all of the kids come to every Christmas...one of my uncles' family lives in Texas...they have since I was little...I think I've met him only a hand full of times. Anyway, his family is pretty much the only family that doesn't come every year.
It was much easier to keep track of all of the spouses and offspring when I was much younger (please also note that my family is a breeding lot...it's not as if the mass production of my blood line stopped with my grandma...oh no. We're "breeding women" as my father so nicely put it...fully equipped with wide child bearing hips). Now there are about fifty first cousins in that family. 50. There are always little children running around and screaming and fighting and laughing and banging toys and asking, "Have you seen my mom?" I hate to admit it but I mostly just say no because I don't know which is their mother. Sorry kid...just fight your way through the sea of people and scream out the word MOM...someone's bound to turn around and help you.
Now take a minute to think this through properly. 16 children in one family. There are not enough hours in the day to give each child the proper love and attention. They had to take care of each other. They all grew up FUCKED IN THE HEAD in their unique and special way.
My sister called me and told me that dad was having cake and ice cream for Linda, my step mom. I made my way out there. Dad then told me that 'they' were coming.
The cast of characters:
grandma-hypocondriac extrordinairre. the glue in the family. she likes quilt shows and antique glass. she makes rag rugs.
Aunt Mary-queen wackadoo. she had some sort of brain surgery when she was a kid that has rendered her majorly stuck at age 12 even though she's over 30. she likes to grab back fat during a hug.
Aunt Lois-on the less wacked out side. she's a professional flute player. she has two kids...emily and bessie. emily is a dork...plain and simple. she talks and talks to anyone that appears to be within earshot. bessie is quiet and sort of funky...i'm guessing she's going to grow up okay in the middle of all this mess.
Uncle Bob and Rhonda-uhmmmmmm...dorks. they laugh at stupid things. they have two kids...jenny and...? i forgot the baby's name. they both turned out amazingly cute. shows you that two wrongs sometimes do make a right.
My dad, Linda, Angela and her boyfriend Casey-dad is just dad. before everyone came over he told us a story about a cop flashing his flashing lights and my dad got all paranoid and ate the two joints that were in the car. Angela is a 17 year old raver-type chic. HUGE pants with reflective strips...bracelets halfway up her arm...glitter every day...the whole 9. casey is 16. he seems like an ok kid. I had to send Claudia up to tell Angela to get the condom wrapper out of her back window before grandma and crew came over.
As if that was not enough...
After dishing out the cake, everyone is quiet cause they're eating. Emily blurts out, "Hey Angela...do you know where I can get a bondage belt?" Mind you Em is going into 10th grade. My eyes bug as do my dad's. Angela just shakes her head. I'm thinking to myself that Em has no idea what she just said and no idea why we were all staring at her. Later in the evening, my sister overheard Aunt Lois trying to explain to Em what a bondage belt is. Also, Em cornered me for about 10 minutes and grilled me about my time at CMU and about music and who I know etc. Uhm...that was 7 years ago. I don't remember.
Grandma says to Angela, "Oh Angela your bracelets are so pretty...you know...when I was in Texas, it was soooo popular for the girls to wear buttons strung together as bracelets." Angela stares. Later in the night, we were all sitting outside on the porch and grandma told us that the doctor found pollups on her colon. Thanks, granny.
No wonder I'm weird and just ran around like a wackadoo, spinning in the rain.
On my way into work (late as usual) this morning, I popped in Eminem's first CD. I know it's soooooo un-feminist of me to listen to that drivel, but I really don't care. I was thinking about him pulling his little ankle gun from his ankle holster and aiming it at an ICP 'associate'. I started laughing. I was thinking about Mrs. Mathers and her oh so white trash-ed-ness. Then these lyrics rang in my ears:"Tired of having to borrow a dollar for gas to start my Monte Carlo "
"I'm tired of fuckin the same blonde whore
after work in the back of a Contour"
"Take you on Jerry Springer, and beat yer ass legally"
"Some people only see that I'm white, ignorin skill"
"I slap women and eat shrooms then O.D."
"Tired of having skinny friends hooked on crack and mini thins"
"I'm tired of being fired everytime I fart and cough"
"I'm tired of using plastic silverware"
"Better hide your wallet cause I'm comin up quick to strip your cash
Bought a ticket to your concert to come and whip your ass"
"I melt Vanilla Ice like silicone"(this lyric was chosen due to the reference to another white [trash] rapper)
"Dumpin your dead body inside of a fucking trash can
With more holes than an afghan" (this lyric was chosen due to the use of the word "afghan")
"Sick of naggin bosses bitchin while I'm washin dishes"
"but you know your mama, she's one of those types of women-
who does crazy things, and if she don't get her way, she'll throw a fit"
"there's a place called heaven and a place called hell,
a place called prison and a place called jail,
and dada's probably on his way to all of 'em except one,
'cause mama's got a new husband and a stepson
and you don't want a brother do ya?"
"but for now we'll just say that mama was real, real bad
she was bein' mean to dad and made him real, real mad"
And the real kicker...
"I'm tired of being white trash, broke and always poor
Tired of taking pop bottles back to the party store
I'm tired of not having a phone
Tired of not having a home to have one in if I did have one on "
Attacking me because I chose not to pick apart your every word shows me that I was right for not responding in depth.
I don't blog to fight. I do this for my own entertainment. If you don't like it, go away.
Alright...if I think about that any more I just may end up going crazy and pulling some clothes off of random people or something so I better change the subject. On a lighter note...I'm going to dinner with a friend from high school tonight. Her name is Kristen. She just rules...there's no other way to put it. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself...and it's only 10:45...dinner isn't until 7:30! Of course, I had to carefully choose my outfit and do my makeup extra good and leave my hair down so that I look nice when I see her tonight. I'm so weird. I mean, it's not like she's going to like me any less if I don't look perfect.
As long as we're on that note...I do look hot today. Short black skirt, black shirt, black tights, black shoes. Doesn't sound exciting but believe me, I look good. :)
My left hand is shaking when I type and I don't have any idea why. My hands have been shaking more and more lately and I've been typing slower and slower. It's weird. I feel like I can't control my fingers adequately sometimes.
I'm still sad that Andrea's blog is down.
I do know and it makes me sick.
I can not adequately express how utterly disgusted and nauseated I am right now.I heard about the women that got assaulted in Central Park the day after it happened. I was mad...outraged even. I guess I didn't realize just how bad it was...until I saw the video tonight. I saw women being treated like no human should be treated. They were not only humiliated; they were assaulted. Sexually, yes...and assaulted with violence...assaulted by being overpowered by a god damn mob of hormonally driven men. Not just one or two women...50 WOMEN. 50. Half of a hundred. FIFTY god damn it. FIFTY. Their faces expressed horror...terror. The women that were being interviewed attested to the fact that they were afraid for their lives.
I knew this was bad, but I had no idea just how bad it was.
My stomach is turning right now as I watch news reports showing video of the goings-on.
The news man had the balls to bring up the question, "Was this the women's fault?"
PARDON ME? How could ANYONE ever ever ever be at fault when they are attacked? These women were attacked! They didn't ask for it...no matter what they did or what they wore. FUCK YOU, Mr. Newsman and anyone else that even thinks that insane question.
This, my friends, is the reason and fierce justification for feminism.
But now that I'm thinking about it..it might not be that bad...sort of like spinach pie without the pastry...
For some reason my work's training website isn't letting me in. I want in, damn it. Grrrrrr...I'm sad that Andrea took down Naked Pictures of Ricky Martin. I'm sure she has her reasons and all, but that makes me sad. I'm also sad that Yana took down her site. I'm sad, too, that my hits have been fewer and fewer the past few days...I guess that doesn't make me SAD sad, but it doesn't make me happy.
My hair looks like shit today. I didn't blow it dry last night after my shower.
My columbine plant isn't doing so hot. It's better than it was, but not great. My hollyhock is doing better now that I staked it. I read on the net (after I staked it already) that it was sometimes necessary to do so...meaning...I did the right thing without even knowing it! woohooo
The site is almost ready to go live...it should be mostly done by tomorrow or Thursday. Scott did a lot of work on it and I feel better...lots better...so hopefully Stuart will hand over the cash money some time this week. Mmmmmmm...extra money....mmmmmmmmmmmmmm...
I've decided that I must cut my hair. Not just a trim...I'm talking a cut of three inches at least. This will make my hair only below my shoulders and not mid-back at all. I think it's a must, though, because my curls aren't forming or bouncing or looking right any more; my hair is too long and heavy. I'll miss my hair. Sigh. It must be done.I decided on my way to visit my dad that I was going to stop by Kelly's last night. I got myself all worked up the whole time I was at my dad's. My stomach was mega butterflies. I planned out what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. The entire way there I kept thinking about everything I felt like I needed to tell her. I wanted her to understand what my life was about and why I acted the way I did. I wanted to tell her that I feel better than I've felt in years. I wanted her to know how much I miss her.
When I pulled up in her driveway I saw her van. "Wow...some new stickers, " I thought. Deep breath. Walked to her door and knocked. Her dad answered, "Hey there stranger" and I said hello. I asked if I could speak to Kelly and he told me that she was in Florida standing up in Mandi's sister's wedding. I knew that, I thought. I thanked him and turned to leave. I got in my truck. I started to cry.
I cried the entire way home.
I was prepared to tell her I was sorry. All ready to tell her I was wrong. I wasn't going to take full blame, of course, but I was ready to tell her that I did and said some things that were not stellar. Sure, I'm just human and I'm allowed to make mistakes but I have to admit when I'm wrong, too, in order to grow. I've realized that I'm not quite the person that I once thought I was. I'm not a good friend. I'm just not...not 100% of the time. Sometimes I'm selfish. Sometimes I'm too needy. Sometimes sometimes. That doesn't make up for the fact that she hasn't called in five months or that she's said she wants to hang out and didn't. That doesn't mean she's not at fault too, but that does mean that I'm at fault just as much...by my own admission...which I would not have said two months ago...or even two weeks ago.
Jeez it sounds like I'm talking about a boyfriend or girlfriend.
My eyelids are a bit heavy but it feels really good to be up and at work on time. I should have brought a muffin, though.
I'm going to dinner with Kristen on Wednesday which will prolly make my entire week. She rules the school, that girl. Really and truely. I've missed her the some seven odd years I haven't seen her. We're grown ups now...she's even married. Her last name is Arnold. I'm going to have to try and remember that.
