My love of glam metal and why, contrary to my own assumptions, I would have not made it as a groupie

So ... I've been reading It's So Easy, the biography by Duff McKagan from Guns N Roses.

It's a really great book.  Well written and interesting.  I haven't finished it yet, but it got me thinking.

I can distinctly remember when I bought Appetite for Destruction.  We were in Florida on vacation, and I made my mom take me to a mall in Orlando.  I believe it was to a Peaches store.  And I got the cassette.  Or, rather, I had to get my mother to buy the cassette since it had the Parental Advisory sticker on it. 

I kept it face down until after she paid so she wouldn't see the cover.  I knew she probably wouldn't agree if she saw that cross with skulls logo.  And I was in bliss.  I listened to that thing pretty much nonstop for the rest of the trip.

Of course, I was totally unaware of what most of the lyrics meant.  Sure, I knew that there was that whole sex, drugs and rock n roll thing, but I wasn't clued in to what it all really meant.

It was summer of '88, right before my freshman year started.  I started school that year with my braces off, and with really big hair.  Hair that was sort of an odd orange color thanks to some Sun-In.  And I was a glam band girl.  My best friend and I went to the Def Leppard concert, then stayed up all might as we drove with her family to vacation in Gulf Shores.  Looking back, it's a wonder her parents let us play GnR.  The cassette player was in the front with them, and we were in the very back seats of their mini-van.  I remember her stepfather freaking out, thinking Axl's screech at the beginning of Welcome to the Jungle was a police siren, that he was getting pulled over.  Heh.  Good times.

Motley Crue.  Poison.  Bon Jovi.  Def Leppard.  GnR.  Those were the big ones.  And there were others ... LA Guns, Faster Pussycat, Danger Danger, White Lion

All lusted after with innocence to the reality of the world.  I always said that if I had been 20 and in college instead of 15 and in junior high, I would have totally been a groupie for those bands.  And I meant that.  Band whore - yep, sign me up.  Said with the innocence of youth.

Then I read the Motley Crue book, The Dirt.  And The Heroin Diaries by Nikki Sixx.  And now this book.  What an eye opener.  And I can honestly say that no, I would not have been a groupie.  One look at the total lack of hygiene these guys possessed, and that would have been a deal breaker.  Not to mention the rampant alcohol and drug abuse.  And the STDs that flew through the bands like mad.  Pass on that.  I'd like to think that not even the lure of a rock star would overshadow, well, bathing.  And clean sheets.  Preferably not on a mattress on the floor.  Even teenage me had standards.  I just didn't realize the reality of the situation.

The fact that half these guys are still walking around with functioning brain cells is pretty amazing.  The fact that more people weren't aware of the level of their depravity is even more so.  But I guess that was the times.  No Internet.  No cell phones.  Easier to cover stuff up.  Quietly.  Ah, the good old days.  Before people accidentally outed themselves doing stupid and illegal stuff on Twitter or Facebook.

When I started this, I thought I had a point.  Now I have no idea where I was going with it ...

I guess it's just that looking back, I see myself in those days and it makes me laugh.  At how innocent I was.  Singing along with the words to Mr. Brownstone ... I thought that was a person.  Granted, there's really no way to NOT know what the lyrics to Anything Goes are about.  But there was a child-like glee at the naughtiness of singing those words.

I would never have imagined, looking at those pictures in the magazines, that the guys from Motley were so strung out the photographer put sunglasses on them to hide their eyes, and the fact that a couple kept nodding out during the shoot.

I never knew exactly how crazy and out of control the backstage parties really were.  How girls and drugs and liquor passed from guy to guy with no thoughts to excess or safety.  Or that the majority of the time, most of them were barely coherent on stage - the fact that they were even upright was impressive ... being able to actually perform was pretty much a small miracle.  It's a wonder more of them didn't die.

I guess my point is that I am glad that I didn't know then what I know now.  I am glad that I got to see them as sexy rock stars.  Maybe a little wild, and a little dangerous, but never as the dark and lost and messed up guys they really were.  I'm glad that it took me years to really know what Mr. Brownstone was about.  And I'm glad I never lined up to be one of a thousand in the back of the tour bus.

I had big hair.  I smoked.  I wore a leather biker jacket that I bought myself at the Harley store.  I swore like a sailer.  And I dated guys that were bad for me in a lot of ways.  I was, by all outward appearances, the bad girl of the group.  And that was cool.  But I never really drank.  I never tried drugs.  I was an A student in honors classes and the band.  I really had the best of both worlds.  I got to play the bad girl, while staying a good girl on the inside.  But it sure was fun to pretend.

the post where i vent about a real douchenozzle in our lives ... i hope everyone knows who he is. jackass.

Everyone always tells me I should write more, or write a book.  And yeah, I have opinions.  Very specific opinions.  And I can write here and make my point and be funny, or skewer someone or whatever.  But the thought of a book is ... daunting.  I don't even know what it would be about.  I am no Jen Lancaster, by any stretch of the imagination. (Though I would totally love to be her when I grow up)

I guess step one is to broaden the horizons and get more followers.  Except, well, how exactly do I do that?  How does someone suddenly have "the" blog that lots of people follow?  I have no clue.  And not a lot of time or energy to devote to worrying about it ... thus, here we are.  Me and the 4.7 people that read this.  (Hi ya'll!)

What's new in the Land of Eville these days you ask?  Well, lots and not much. 

The Eville Weenies are hanging in there.  Between the two of them, I don't even have one good functional dog.  They are adorable and total pains in the ass, and I love them even as I grumble under my breath about having to sit on the floor for half an hour - again - to hand feed one of them dog food.  Hand feeding canned dog food is not fun.  And really gross.  But hey, I'll do whatever I need to do to get the little shit to eat.  He is slightly spoiled.  And I am a total pushover.  Putty in their little dirty doggy paws.

The Minion is more diabolical than ever.  And he starts swimming lessons this weekend.  Either it will be fantastic, or we will be banned from the pool.  He's like his dad in that respect - there's really no middle ground.  It's pretty much all or nothing.

I've had some encounters recently with some really unpleasant people.  I've decided that people who project the image of good, but who are really sneaky, back-stabbing liars, really deserve what they get.  And I sure hope they get it soon.  In a myriad of painful and shameful ways.

When I see people doing despicable things, I just want the rest of the world to know too.  I want to blow the whistle so very badly.  But I know that in the end, it has to come out in its own time.  I can't force it, cause then I might be the one that looks like the asshole.  But man, it sure is hard to sit here and keep my mouth shut sometimes.  And every once in a while, I just can't take it anymore.  Looks like today is one of those days.

I thought this person was a friend.  I thought they could be trusted.  I admired the way that this person preached peace and love and acceptance, equality, doing good in the world.  And I thought it was really great the way this person would always be quick to let anyone and everyone know that the significant other in their life was beautiful and wonderful and the light that made life worth living.

And then, I found out otherwise.  That facade was a total sham.  This person wasn't any of these things.  This person was a liar.  And a cheater.  And a back stabber.  Here's just a little example of one thing this person did.  One small thing in a pool of many, many things that makes him a total douchenozzle of the highest order.

This guy has been with his girlfriend for years.  And I am not talking years years, I am talking DECADES years.  She basically totally supports him financially and emotionally.  She thinks that he is amazing and can conquer the world.  She is there for everything that he does, cheering him on louder than anyone.

And yet ... he uses his potential career angle to hook up with other women.  And he tells them all that he fell in love the moment he laid eyes on them.  And he's only with the girlfriend till this next thing is a success, then it's over and he will be with them.  Some of them believe him.  He's juggling a couple right now that used to be friends.  One has taken the catty junior high approach, and the other one just walked away hurt.  Miss Catty told her she could be trusted, to confide her secrets to her about this mystery guy.  So she did.  And low and behold, what does Miss Catty do but call the guy, crying, telling him all about what the other woman said.

His response ... to call the other woman and ream her a new one.  How DARE she get Catty upset.  And what if the girlfriend finds out about all this and gets all suicidal again - how will she feel then?  Yeah - total jackass.

As I said, the one walked away hurt but a little wiser.  Minus some people she thought were friends, but certainly no longer with any illusions about the situation.  But this guy is still at it.  He's got so many lies going, he can't keep track.  It's all gonna unravel at some point.  And man, do I hope the world sees him for what he is.

But the thing about this situation that bothered me the most was the women.  The girlfriend may not know about this now, but she obviously knows there have been issues in the past.  She probably has suspicions, especially if she might get suicidal - again.  And Miss Catty, being all jealous and acting like a teenager over it, upset that he "cheated" on her with the other woman.  Uh, duh, he's cheating on his girlfriend WITH you.  What makes you think you are the only one?

Where was these women's self respect and dignity?  Why didn't they band together and give him a giant F You?  I don't get it.  Why would you even want to be with someone that you knew was a liar and a cheater?  How would you ever know if he was being truthful about ANYTHING?  Wouldn't you always wonder if there was yet another one out there somewhere that he was cheating with?  It baffles me.

The best part is that this guy runs his mouth way too much.  And way too many people know what he's up to.  His secrets aren't so secret any more.  He thinks he's being so smooth.  But slowly, people are figuring out his game.  I just wish I could be there to see the implosion.  Unfortunately, I am also aware that guys like him always find a way to slither off somewhere else and reinvent themselves.  He will be back, in some form or another, of that I am sure.  I just hope the women are wiser now.  Especially the girlfriend ... I hope she finds some backbone and self-respect and leaves him in the dust.

toddler antibiotic tourture, single kick ass women scare men, and beng a terrible church attendee

My kid hates taking amoxicilin. And I can't blame him. The stuff is nasty, even with the flavoring they add now. We have had two rounds of taking this vile stuff. And every time he refused, I felt like a terrible parent because the end result was us holding him down and forcing him to take it. I know we aren't the only ones, but it still makes you feel pretty shitty.

And then suddenly, about halfway through this last round, he changed his mind. He started taking it with no complaints, no juice chaser, nothing. I don't understand it. But I am going with it. The mind of a three year old baffles me.

Now to more fun things besides toddler antibiotic torture ...

I have two friends that are single. One is older than me, and one is younger than me. Both are beautiful and smart and funny. I really can't see why they haven't been snapped up. And then one day not long ago, after hearing a horror story from one, I realized what it was. And what they both have in common is the problem.

See, they both have their shit together. They own homes and cars. They have held decent corporate jobs with 401ks. They have lives that they are fully capable of managing without a man to do it for them. Not that they don't want a man ... husband, family, etc. They just aren't gonna put their lives on hold waiting for that to happen.

And that's the problem. Because I have decided that no matter what a man says, he wants a needy, jealous, possibly financially incapable woman to take care of. These two women scare the shit out of them. They are intimidating. They also speak their minds and don't take any bullshit. Most men are just not capable of handling this. Oh, they say they are. And they try to be. But I really think that after a few dates, their brains just can't process it. And so they make up drama and ridiculous stuff just to try to get these two to show them the crazy. And when it doesn't happen? They are at a loss. And so they move on. It's kinda funny actually.

But it's also really pissing me off. Surely there are two sane men in this world that can take on these two women. I believe there has to be. So where are you guys? Hurry up already!

What else is new in the land of Eville? Well, The Minion's new favorite hobby is to shove his finger up his nose (I swear he's got to be touching brain) and loudly proclaim that he is digging for gold. Funny in private. Mortifying in public.

We have an ancient, blind and meaner than ever weenie dog that likes to bite EVERYTHING that gets near her. And another not quite as ancient weenie dog with only one (partially) functioning kidney. The fun never ends in this house. It's a non-stop regimen of medicines, special foods, administering fluids, etc. And every time I turn around someone has peed or pooed somewhere new. The other day I realized that my life had gone from irritation at finding such a mess to just plain old acceptance. And even happiness when they actually use a pee pad. Such is the joy of elderly dog ownership. And yet, I love them more than should even be possible. It's a conundrum.

I've become a firm believer in the karma train, and I am keeping a list of the people that I look forward to seeing it run over. The day can't come soon enough. Partly because I want them to recognize what shitty humans they are. And partly because I am just petty and vindictive enough, and can hold a grudge enough, to want to have my moment to relish their karmic misfortune.

The Minion has several favorite topics of conversation, and one of them is the penis. He will name off all males he knows and inform anyone listening that they have a penis. Generally he's content to say that Mama does not, but when he mentions the dog, he says that she doesn't have one, she has a hole. Which I find equally hilarious and horrifying. Being just enough of a Southern prude to not want to use certain words, I don't really have names for body parts. Especially THOSE parts. So I don't really know what to say to him and I just let it go. I realize eventually we need to have that conversation, but I am going with the ignore it and it doesn't exist method for as long as possible.

Now, I don't claim to be a super religious person, but we do make an effort to go to church every week. We don't always make it, but we are good for usually 3 out of 4 weeks in a month. I do know that I want The Minion to grow up with a church experience, and he can make up his own mind as he gets older. I really like our church.

That being said, I just do not like to go on Christmas and Easter. I realize that there are a lot of people that only go a few times a year, and those are the two big ones. And that makes me want to stay at home. I just don't feel like dealing with those people. Not that I am better than them, or more Christian than them or anything. I just hate the crowd as it is. A veritable crush of people does not add to my enjoyment. I am too worried about occupancy issues and claustrophobia setting in ... and all those lovely flowery perfumes worn in abundance ... to really focus.

And what is it with the bathing in perfume for church? It's like they want Jesus to smell them from Heaven. And considering they way some women douse themselves with the vile stuff, it's possible he might. But I digress.

I like to go to the early service, sit in the back, listen, enjoy and leave. On a holiday that just isn't possible. So, we are probably the only family on the planet that actually avoids church on holidays. Go us.

I suppose that's enough for now. I haven't even ranted about politics, so I should stop before something strikes my fancy. Also, there's a good chance that The Minion is trying to fix a bowl of ice cream all by himself. That won't end well.

The post where I get sidetracked about how much politics pisses me off ... that happens a lot

Three year olds are evil in cute little dimpled packages. Maybe not all of them, and maybe not all of the time. But mine sure can be. He's got enough stubborn from both sides ... I am pretty sure we are gonna end up in a Thunderdome type situation before he even starts kindergarten.

As usual, several things have been bugging me lately. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. People who can never be wrong and/or think they know everything about everything. Throw in a little passive-aggressive behaviour, and I just wanna punch someone. The sad thing is that you can't reason with these people. They will NEVER admit they are wrong, even when it is plainly obvious that they are. You can never win because they just don't get it. And that just makes it worse. I try to be a nice person, but I will admit that sometimes I find myself wishing for the Karma truck to run them over. Repeatedly.

2. Politics pisses me off, a lot, so I try to avoid it. But sometimes it filters through. And it continues to amaze me that the conservative right keeps preaching about how we need less government, yet they turn around and propose legislation that takes away womens' rights over control of their own bodies. And now, there is a new one out there that is proposing to make single parent homes child abuse. Seriously? Where do these people come from, and how the hell do the function in today's society? I realize that people with ultra conservative views think that gays are the end of the world. Okay fine - that's your opinion. But since it's mentioned in the Bible, I am pretty sure it's been around for a while. It's not like gay people just appeared last week and started trying to overthrow the world. And all the talk about how children shouldn't be allowed to be adopted by gay people - shouldn't be exposed to that lifestyle. Most gay people come from heterosexual parents. It's not a cult people. *shakes head in disbelief*

And now, single parent homes are child abuse. I was raised by a single mother. As of now, I haven't turned into a serial killing psychopath, so I'd say I turned out all right. Like I said, I get that the conservative right has an opinion that the ideal marriage is between a man and a woman. And the ideal family is a husband, a wife, and children. But that's just not the reality in this world. I can think of someone right off the top of my head who is a single mother. Not by choice. Her husband passed away. It wasn't something she asked for. And last time I checked, her kids were pretty awesome. Yet because she is single, her household would be labeled as abusive. That is just the stupidest thing I have ever heard.

3. On a related topic, politics and people posting stats and things they know nothing about, have not researched, and have no real clue about. I think we can all agree that this country is not exactly at its high point right now. But people seem to forget that our current President didn't create this mess, he inherited it. In some cases, there are issues that have been going on for damn near 20 years. But for some reason, it's only the fault of the current President in office. He's screwed either way - either he caused all this, or he's the worst ever because he hasn't managed to fix everything. This country didn't go off the rails in a mere four years. It's gonna take more than four to fix it. Also, it's a little hard to fix it when you keep trying to bring God into everything. God has no place in politics. They are two separate things.

You keep ranting about religious freedom, yet you keep wanting to push your agendas, dripping with your own personal religious ideals. So you want your own religious freedom, and for people to have freedom as long as they agree with you, but if they don't, then they are wrong? That doesn't sound like The Constitution I remember learning about in school.

4. Here's the thing ... I said The Pledge every morning for years. I'm not indoctrinated. We had a moment of silence every morning - to do whatever you wanted with it. I'm not fanatical. We had Halloween parties and Christmas parties, and no parents sued because it was offensive. We didn't have to call them Fall Festivals or Holiday Parties. I know there are eleventy million different cultures in this country - that's what's supposed to be cool about it. You have your freedom and rights to celebrate and practice your cultural beliefs. What about America's beliefs? We believe in Halloween. And Christmas. And The Pledge. It worked for generations. What's wrong with it now? Because it might offend someone? That's just ridiculous. If you don't agree with it, don't participate. Do your own thing. Even better, tell your class/neighborhood/coworkers about your way of celebrating and have a multi-cultural accepting moment. But don't complain or sue because you don't agree.

People are afraid to have real opinions, to say what they really think. Because they fear punishment or being looked down upon. How is a society supposed to function when no one can really be themselves? Everyone is so busy making sure that the face they show to the world is conforming, that they forget who they really are. And instead we have a world full of plastic fake people who spout their convictions to the world, but don't even believe them behind closed doors. Public perception, public image is more important that standing up for what you really believe in. Go with the flow, don't make waves, don't question. It's bullshit. And it freaks me out.

The political messages in this country are so jumbled and mixed and confusing, it's hard to even know who stands for what anymore. For most people, it's too much to even try to figure out. They judge off sound bites and video clips that aren't always even in context. It's sad and it's scary. And I want my own country on my own planet.

4. Speaking of which ... I believe it's in Virginia that laws are trying to get passed about adoption agencies being able to deny people based solely on their religious or political views. And these are agencies that do take government funding. Obviously it applies to gay people. But it can apply to anyone. If you have a conservative "Christian" agency, they have every right to turn down couples that are Jewish or Democrats.

So, basically, if I get this right, legislation is trying to pass that won't allow a lot of women the freedom of choice to terminate a pregnancy. Which means potentially unwanted children are forced into the world, on a parent that doesn't want them to begin with. A parent that is most likely on the lower socioeconomic scale. And you don't want to provide government funding to help assist these lower income classes, proposed cuts on social services left and right. So maybe the kid gets taken away and put into the system, or is given up for adoption. And now you are putting crazy restrictions on the people that are allowed to adopt, based solely on the discretionary whim of the adoption agency's personal views/beliefs? Seriously?

Am I getting that right? You would rather an unwanted child be forced into a flawed foster care system, potentially till age 18, rather than allow a qualified and loving family to adopt them, just because they might be Catholic or gay or a single parent? And those children are going to be able to contribute what to society exactly? What kind of "Christian" values are they learning in that situation?

What about all the normal, white, heterosexual couples out there that do horrible things to their kids? Where do they fall in all this? Is it better to let a kid be raised by them than a gay couple? Are you telling me that Josh Powell made a better father because he fit the idealized mold, even though he murdered his entire family?

Yeah, people piss me off.

On totally unrelated subjects, I have sort of a split personality. I am generally antisocial. Don't really like parties or social situations requiring me to mingle and make small talk. Yet, I have already done most of the prep for the family Easter shindig we are hosting this year. I'm talking a good 2-30 people here. It's a big gathering. I have egg decorating stuff and all kinds of little doodads for an Easter egg hunt. I even bought stuff for the kids to do Easter crafts. CRAFTS, people. Genuine crafts. What the hell!?!?!?

And I am excited about it. Which is alternately funny and terrifying. Undoubtedly, when The Minion starts having birthday parties, they will be absolutely amazing because I can plan like a pro. But then I just think about the actual socialization part and it makes my eye twitch. I need a clone. A social setting, small talk making, party attending clone. Then I can plan, make an awesome soiree, and go hide in the bedroom with a book and a cup of coffee, in my pajamas, while the clone does the hard stuff. I think this might be my next project.

I think I've done my part for the day. Time to get off the soapbox and go clean up the chaos of cars, trains and Star Wars figures that now litters my entire kitchen and living room. The Minion has been busy while I've been writing. I'll be back again, no doubt with more stupid shit that pisses me off. And maybe a funny story about the kid.

Musings on attending my 20 year reunion and My Tiny Terror

Look at me ... fulfilling that promise to myself to write more. Now let's hope I can find something to say.

My 20 year high school reunion is this fall, and I just sent in my money the other day. So, apparently I am planning to attend. Which is weird. I mean, why am I really attending?

See ... I never really hung out with my classmates. We had almost 300 in our graduating class. And I was friends with maybe half a dozen, tops. I went to school for one thing - to get the grades and get the hell out. I didn't go to socialize. I didn't do parties. Hell, I didn't even know where the parties were. Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with any of my classmates, I just didn't have time to deal with the whole social scene. I didn't really care. I was on a mission - graduate, get a scholarship, go to college. Total tunnel vision.

And yeah, I was a smart kid. I was in honors and AP classes. And that basically means that I spent most of high school in class with the same 20-30 kids. I didn't really mix with the general population anyway. And also, I was a bitch. I mean, a real class A bitch. To everyone. Needless to say, it wasn't as if any of my classmates were beating down my door to be friends.

So why go to the reunion. I wasn't friends with them then, and I'm really not friends with any of them now. Sure, we comment about stuff on FB, and if I see someone at a restaurant or the grocery store, we exchange pleasant hellos. But that's about it. I'm not having lunch dates or girls nights or any of that with high school chums. So, why am I going again?

I will admit to curiosity. Everyone wants to see how all the others turned out. That's just part of life. And there are a handful of people that I was relatively close to that I wouldn't mind seeing again. But I am not exactly Miss Social. I don't like crowds. I don't like the social chit chat scene. I hate being put on the spot. I am horrible with names.

And now I am starting to have a little bit of panic about the whole thing ... Let's change the subject.

No politics today. I don't have the energy for it.

The Minion got a new full size big boy bed. Apparently he likes it because he slept for about 10 hours last night. And that is a small miracle. Speaking of miracles, I am wishing and hoping we might get one soon because he is sooooo ready for a pre-school or mother's day out program. And I am so ready to put him in one. Just need our financial fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and create the extra funds for it. I love being home with him every day. But it's time for him to start having some serious interaction with other kids. Mama alone just doesn't cut it anymore.

The Minion is also a spoiled rotten terror. I didn't mean for that to happen. In fact, I thought I was doing my best to prevent it. But obviously that didn't work very well. He is usually pretty good in public, but he's getting to the point of realizing that he can cause major embarrassment and potentially get his way if he throws an unholy fit in public. He also knows my mother has no willpower where he's concerned (alright fine - I don't either). Put the two together and you get EVIL in a cute little dimpled package.

Twice in the past four days, we have gone shopping with my mother. And while being hateful and having at least two total meltdown tantrums, he's also managed to acquire the big talking Woody doll, the big Buzz doll, a package of Star Wars figures, a Matchbox space shuttle, three sets of sheets for his bed, two quilted coverlets, and a nightstand to match his new dresser.

And that was with us using restraint. Seriously, he is a power shopper. He "needs" stuff. And he knows how to manipulate to get said stuff. It's scary. He's gonna end up being the dictator of a small island nation if he keeps this up. As long as it's a tropical tax shelter, I am all for that.

My house is a wreck. All the baby furniture from his room needs to go to the attic. All the other stuff I have piled up needs to be put up in the attic or find a home somewhere. This house has no storage and it makes me crazy. We also have way too much stuff. Some days I feel like we are one item away from an episode of Hoarders. Then I actually watch an episode of Hoarders, and I realize that it's not that bad. I just need to clean the damn house. And throw out a bunch of stuff. And definitely pack up a bunch of toys to go to the attic. My child has enough toys to fill a day care. It's crazy ridiculous. He's also quick to tell you that they are all "MINE!!!" and refuse to let you get near them, much less box them up. Guess it's time to plan a late night toy purge.

POF asked me the other day if there was a reason I didn't kiss him much any more. And I realized that there really isn't a reason. Except that I have just stopped being a touchy feely kind of girl. Too busy being worried about what's happening with the dogs or the kid to really take the time. I've become the girl who wants to get sex over and done with in the least amount of time possible because there are too many distractions and things that could be happening in the other room. And that's pretty crappy. So I've decided that I am going to make more of an effort to try to be a touchy feely girl again. Kiss my husband more. Try to be in the moment and not spend the whole time wanting it to be over quickly so I can go check and see if a dog peed or the kid woke up.

I used to enjoy a good snuggle on the couch, watching TV. Now I hardly even sit with him on the couch - we are on opposite sides, and I usually fall asleep within 10 minutes of watching anything. If I sit still, I am asleep. Basically, I need to turn my brain off for a few minutes, and just enjoy being with my husband instead of making lists in my head. Bless his heart, he puts up with a lot.

And on that note ... I have storage bins to fill and get to the attic. And dogs to let out. And a dentist appointment to get ready for. I wish I could wiggle my nose and have everything be done.

Same meanness, new year

So .... several more months have gone by, and still I haven't written anything. I really need to make more effort. I had a total stranger tell me recently that my writing was a gift and I should use it. Hmmmm. For good or for evil? That part I didn't clarify.

What's new at the Haus of Eville? Well .... The Minion is growing like a little evil weed. He is Star Wars obsessed and knows all the characters. Our house looked like the Star Wars toy aisle exploded on Christmas morning. He's talking up a storm, saying the funniest things that keep us laughing all the time. He has these dimples that are EVIL, and he basically controls the household with his tiny dictator ways. You know, the usual.

And a new year is upon us. The final year of all years, apparently. So, since we have another apocalype approaching (years of Whedon have prepared me for just such an occurrence), I thought I might take a minute to think about the things I have learned this past year, and what evil deeds I can work on in this final year of existence.

The most significant thing I guess would be the ending of a 20+ year friendship by Facebook defriending. That was, well, interesting. I mean, for a second I felt like I was about 14 again, and that was just retarded in all kinds of ways. So, I let the friendship go. And you know what I realized? It wasn't really a friendship anymore anyway. I lost nothing from that defriending except the stress and anxiety of dealing with the friendship itself. Yay me.

I realized that basically, we'd remained friends just out of habit. Because we'd been friends since junior high (yes, back then it was junior high - middle school be damned!), and I was so deeply intertwined with her family. I love her family. And I still send her parents cards for birthdays, Mother's Day, Father's Day, etc. I saw her mom briefly right before Christmas. But that was it, and that was fine. I feel no need to justify my actions or explain my reasons. It was done, moving on, we are both better for it. I don't hate her. Never will. I just don't have a place in my life for her anymore. And truthfully, I don't fit in hers. She doesn't hang with my friends, I never even really met hers. We existed in that shared best friends in high school bubble when together, and that was basically all I had to talk about. I realized recently that she probably thought I was one of those weird people who obsessed about high school and all the people then, and where they were now. And I probably did come across that way. Because, truth is, that's all I had to talk about with her. Sad, but true. So, I had to realize that friendships don't always last forever, and it's okay to let them go.

Now, our 20 year class reunion is coming up this year. And that should make it even more intersting. Will we talk to each other? Will we be nice? Rude? Even care? Truth is, we live in the same town, and have yet to actually run into each other. In almost a year. I am sure we will eventually. And who knows, maybe we've both been at Target at the same time and just not crossed paths. Or maybe she's seen me and gone the other way. It's possible. And when we do inevitably run into each other, it will be interesting to see what happens. But I know that I don't plan to be fake about it, and I am pretty sure she won't either. So either that will mean we make eye contact, say nothing, and pretend we don't know each other, or we will say hey and move on and pretent we don't really know each other. And that's ok.

I also learned that I am one lazy person. I hate exercise. I really, really do. I forced myself into it, and after a while it became a habit, and that was good. Then sickness hit the house for a couple weeks and it all went to hell. We haven't been to the Y in over 2 months. And boy can I tell. The pants that were loose are getting snug again. I want to exercise, my body needs it. Yet, it is so damn hard to make myself get up at the crack of dawn and do it. I know that after I do it once, it will get easier. But that first time is a bitch.

I have two precious pups that are getting old. My sweet boy has a heart condition, so we've known for some time that that makes his time morelimited. But now he's starting kidney failure. Granted, lots of animals can live for years before total kidney failure takes them. But still. It's hard to know when is the right time. Right now he's relatively healthy, we are giving him special food that he loves, and he's on all kids of supplements. But eventually, things won't be so positive and we've got tough decisions to make. I dread it. My baby girl isn't doing much better. She has disk problems in her back that are perpetually aggravated by her death defying jumping stunts. Plus she's almost blind now. And she has arthritis in her back legs. She hobbles. But she's otherwise healthy and seems happy. Again, it's tough to know when to say when. If it's up to me, it's never. I will have little Darth Vader dogs running around. I'm already working on the prototype for their suits.

Also, old dogs equal incontinence. Every time I turn around, one of them is peeing or pooping on something. Pee pads? They laugh at pee pads. They will drop a dinosaur sized poop right NEXT to the pee pad. And then walk through it and track it through half the house. Some days I want to scream and wring their little necks. But I clean it up. And I say a little prayer of thanks that I have had them in my life for over a decade, and ask for just a little bit more time. I love them so much. Yes, they are dogs. But they are MY dogs. And they are my babies. And I can't imagine my life

without them. So there.

(This was supposed to be a photo of a weenie

dog in a Darth Vader costume. But then I

found this. It's much more hilarious)

Family is a funny thing. I love my family. And POF's family. We are all crazy and unpredictible and unique, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Well .... maybe a few things. But no one's offering, so I guess they stay around. I noticed the other day that we always keep things separate. My mom's side of the family, my dad's side of the family, and POF's family. This year I am toying with having a big party for the Minion's birthday. We had all POF's family here this year for the first time the for Thanksgiving and Christmas and The Minion loved having all his cousins to play with. Doing this would mean smushing my family together with his, and potentially with each other. For basically the first time. That makes me nervous.

I realize that I am very much a compartmental person. Each relationship has a compartment. Some compartments open into others, and some just do not. Ever. Maybe things will be fine, and it's just me and my worries that has kept things separate for so long. Or maybe there will be a brawl and the cops will come. It could go either way I suppose. I'm still thinking about it, still not sure. But I think it could be great if I let it. If I could control all elements. Which, of course, I can't.

It comes down to this ... if I have a big party somewhere, my mother will want to come. And if I do a big party somewhere, that means inviting my dad and that side of the family. I have not had my mother and father together in a room since ... well, since I was a kid. I try to avoid it. I don't want to experience it. But maybe that's just me, and everything would be cool. I don't know. But just thinking about it makes me kinda hyperventilate a little bit. See, last year we had two parties. One for just us (with mom's side of the family), and then one for friends and dad's side of the family. Now I'm throwing POF's family into the mix too. It's chaos. And it makes me itchy. And twitchy. Maybe I need medication.

And now it's time to wrap this up. The Minion has decided that I've spent enough time doing something that does not include, or directly benefit, him. Hopefully it won't take me another 4 months to come back. Maybe 2012: The End of the World is the year I will blog weekly. Or bi-weekly even. You never know. It will be a surpise to me too.