Marr-wige!

Mariana believes in love.

Sappy sweet lovey dovey love. It's torture.

She sat on her couch, me zooming in and out of her kitchen checking the roast she was trying to burn, while she jumped from youtube video to youtube video. I knew it would be a long night when she turned on the Wii, booted up the web browser and typed in "Will you marry me?".

She spent half the evening crying and yelling, "Isn't that so romantic?" She watched the surprising and inventive ways all these men asked their girlfriends to marry them. I wanted to scream back "NO! Can we please watch Frankenstein now?"

So as a backlash to my evening of sappy and annoying love, here is a list of some "romantic" relationships.

• Burt and Linda Pugach

These two are a piece of work. Burt and Linda went out but when she found out he was married with a child, she broke it off. Like any rational human being, Burt hired thugs to throw lye in her face, scarring and blinding her. He continued to write her from jail and 14 years later he was release and they got married. Psycho, both of them. Thank the busy bugs and furry creatures they found each other. I know I wouldn't want either of them interested in anyone I cared about.

• Lana Turner and Johnny Stompanato

After Lana's 4th marriage she met Johnny at a nightclub. But once she found that he was involved in LA's seedy underworld she tried to leave. Apparently his charm and good looks were too much for her to resist. (that, and his giant shlong and his propensity to kick the crap out of her.) When she was filming Another Time, Another Place with Sean Connery, it's said Johnny became insanely jealous at the idea that Lana and Sean were having an affair (they weren't) and brought a gun to the set. Now Sean, being a badass muthafucka that he is, landed a "I'll mess you up homie."single punch BAM! bitch goes down and he takes the gun from him. (Seriously though, if your gonna be bitch slapped in front of your lady, wouldn't you want it to be Sean Connery?) I digress. On the evening of April 4, 1958 Lana and Johnny were having another knock down drag out fight... so Lana's daughter freaks out, grabs a kitchen knife and gives him a new hole. I bet Joan Crawford would have loved to have her as a daughter instead of that whiny Christina.

• Dan and Betty Broderick

He was an amazing asshole and she was probably a little crazy to begin with but in the end, he drove her to be one crazy hoe. It's the typical starter wife story. She puts him through medical and law school by working while she bore him 4 children and ran the house. After he graduated and got a nice big job (cha ching) in San Diego, she went on to be June Cleaver mom wife and caretaker while he banged the ex-stuartess secretary on his mahogany desk. Nastiness ensued. She flips out when he dumps her and the kids in a rental house so he and the receptionist can play house in Betty's home. Yep. And Betty didn't help her situation. Dan sold the house without Betty's permission...so she ran her car into the front of the house. She was awarded alimony of 16,000 a month which seems like a lot, until you realize he's making 300,000 a month. (so much for 50/50; Remind me not to get divorced from a lawyer.) So to get back, she smeared pie on their bed. He'd drop the kids off without notice. She would leave threatening messages on their machine; she said things that would make a sailor blush. In the end, the multi millionaire was ordered to pay his wife of 20 years less than 30,000. And then she went full on loony tunes. Got the gun. Drove to the newlyweds. BANG BANG. She'll be eligible for parole in 2011.

Ain't love grand?

An article that makes my point for me

• Beginning of the end for marriage?

Guacamole bitches!!

I don't cook.

I can make Raman and operated a microwave and that about covers all I can do. But that's all changed. Last night... I made... guacamole!!

I know! It was amazing.

Here is my recipe, still a work in progress, but I'm so proud I had to share.

a small handful of cilantro
3-4 cloves of garlic
1-2 tomatoes
2 scallions
2 large ripe avacados
1 chili (you pick which kind is best for you)
a pinch of kosher salt
a dash of lime


As you can see, I don't really do the whole exact measurement thing, which is why this is a great recipe! And the directions are easy! Chop the crap out of all the ingredients, minus the avocado (and if you like chunky tomato like me, don't mince those tomatoes either). Then mush the avocado to your liking. (I like mine a bit chunky so i cube it in it's 'shell' then scoop it out with a spoon then lightly mush) Add tomatoes, salt, lime and taste. If it needs more of something, add it! Make it yours!

I am so proud of me. You can do it too! If you like guacamole, give it a try and let me know how you do! Good luck my dahlings!

My eyes have glazed over.

I'm a bad person.

That's right. I said it.

I know I'm a bad person because sometimes I just can't listen to one more play by play of any sport event. And this is not just directed at you men, women do it too.

I don't care if that guy sacked this guy. I don't care if that guy used a super mega choke hold on this guy. I don't care that that car goes faster than the other. Die football! Die baseball! And you too Nascar, golf, MMA, hockey and soccer! I just can't take it anymore...

But it's a trade off. I have to remember that! I listen to them go on and on, hammering their fists on the restaurant table, "He didn't catch the ball?! Can you believe it?!"... and they listen to me go on and on about a movie I loved, an outfit I'm sewing, a book I'm reading. All of that must be so boring for them! Tit for tat, so to speak.

Then I wonder, is everything I talk about boring, especially to my guy who is forced to listen to me go on about the wall colors in the house, wanting to go to the ballet, a vacation I want us to take and so on, on a daily basis.

Then I remember a major rule: Men don't think about this kind of stuff. They don't over-analyze. And mostly, they don't care. Their eyes glaze over and they go into "uh-huh" mode. We could learn something from them.

Next time sports comes up, I'm going to take a deep breath, meditate internally and fight the urge to run.

I can do it, I know I can. You can too.
Be strong and unite sisters!
And if you can't... just drag his ass to the theater/mall/movies. Payback's a bitch.

Oh my dear Mr. Darcy...

There are some books I wish I could crawl into.

Pride and Prejudice is one of them. And I don't know why.

I crawl into Alice in Wonderland because I often associate myself with Alice. Not quite grown up, lost among the mad, searching for home. The characters are whimsical and ridiculous and colorful, even on the black and white pages. Everything is frightening but she is able to keep her cool and keep moving. When I was young, I thought that this was an attribute of all English girls. "Well would you look at that, I've grown to the size of a house. Oh how bothersome."

I crawl into the Harry Potter series, any Lia Block books, The Wizard of Oz and just about any faerie tale.

I have never been interested in Jane Austin until this book. I have never been interested in that time period or the language of that era. But this book has entranced me! I feel like I have arrived at the party a bit late... but better late than never.


Perhaps it's the unspoken rules of conduct. Gentlemen treated ladies with respect. Quiet visits in the parlor. People were polite and conversation was an art. But then again, the fiery part of me throws up her hands in frustration and screams, "What is wrong with you people!?", then runs over to Darcy and makes out with him in front of Lady Catherine de Bourg while giving her the finger.

Or maybe it's just the slower pace life went. Music. Books. Conversation. It sounds just lovely. There's time to breathe, time to think. Time for men like Darcy and Bingley. And time to consider, instead of fast moving, make a decision now now now!!

I know that Elizabeth is one of my favorite characters of all time. I want to be like her. (As you might recall my stance on fictitious heroes, she is perfect for the job.) She is smart, confident, defiant in her time and not interesting in bagging a husband. Nothing seems to bother her. When Darcy insults her looks, it's not devastating. She laughs him off as a rude man and moves on. What grace! And most of all, she's funny. She slips in a jab or two into polite conversation so only those most astute would catch it. If I were ever to have children, a girl, I would read this book to her so she might absorb Elizabeth a bit.

I know what happens. I've seen the mini series and the movie. But as I read, I still wring my hands in worry that Darcy and Elizabeth won't end up together. I yell at my book, "Get over yourself! Tell him how you feel!". But that's why it's such a great book; it makes you feel and get emotional about the characters.

But mostly, I love this book because through all the muck, human idiocy and heartache, two people come together and find love. What's more uplifting than that? (and to all you crazy Austen-ites, yes, that's how I read it. I think she did believe in love. Perhaps not syrupy romance or soul mates, but love? Yes. It's not all cynical and laughable. So bugger off. )

Could it happen to us? Perhaps. Who am I to say? When I get to England and meet my Darcy, I'll let you know.

People who should be scolded harshly:

*McFly: for covering Queens "Don’t stop me now" so horribly
*People who litter
*People who don't wave when you let them in your lane
*People with no sense of humor
*Women who don't respect themselves and pass that on to their daughters, nieces, etc
*Peaberry: for making a horrible cup of coffee and god-awful food
*That mean old lady who accosted me at the art supply store. (Did you know testing an art marker is a deadly offense?) Life is good; smile dammit!
*The people who bought our house and wouldn't give me my grandma's chandelier

I ♥ pachinko.

I love it.

It's simple and requires almost no skill but you get the payoff of flashing lights and fun noises.

For those of you who don't know about this popular Japanese game, what have you been doing??

The pachinko machine is Japan's answer to the slot machine. They're loud, bright and addictive. Instead of tokens or coins, small metal balls are put into the machine and they feed into it and drop down through the panel between the glass and board, hitting pins along the way. (For anyone who watched The Price is Right, it's like Plinko.) If the balls fall down into a certain slot, you win more balls. Once you are done, you exchange your pachinko balls for prizes or tokens. (250 balls = about 1000 yen = about $10.25) It is illgal to gamble so that why they give prizes instead. Although, if you want cash, you simply take your tokens around the corner and there will be a store that exchanges them into cash for you. The authorities tolerate this because, technically, they aren't breaking any laws. Ahhh, the japanese and their rules... and exceptions to those rules...

The newer versions look more like vertical pinball with video screens and more moving parts. If you get a ball into the center gate, a series of reels will spin in the center, a video will play and if you're lucky, you get all 3 reels the same and you get the jackpot! (aka a crap load of little metal balls.) They have been customized to almost anything. Star War pachinko. Indiana Jones. Every anime possible. Under the sea, pirates, sex, outer space, everything!

I've been looking for one to buy for myself for a long time but haven't found the right one... It has to work, as I am not very handy and wouldn't know the first thing about how to fix it... and since they are so so heavy and fragile, especially the older ones, if I could find one that I can pick up, instead of shipping that would be best. I've done ebay and craigs list and haven't found exactly what I want...

But one day, it will be mine! And what an awesome birthday /Xmas /Hanuka /no-reason-I'm-just-awesome/Arbor day that will be!

Attack!

I had a panic attack in a crowded market in LA.

I got out of the van, fumbled for my things and went straight into the market. There was a news helicopter circling a group of cop cars on the corners; so loud. I walk into the market, following The Chief left, right, around, back down. He was starving and needed something but couldn't decide. Cajun, crepes, seafood, fruit, vegetables, cakes, candy, burritos, meat... too much. So many smells. We were dodging people left and right. LA people walk like they drive. All of them were talking. Too loud. He grabbed a slice and we sat but I couldn't take it. He asked me if I was ok and I bit his head off. We argued. I couldn't breathe.

I was freaking out.

I eventually settled down. He figured out I wasn't a bitch... I was having a panic attack. I was overstimulated and hungry and tired. Just as I was settling down, I had an asthma attack. (Every time I go to California, I have one... weird.) All the damned ash in the air had finally won their way into my lungs.

I sat on the curb, focusing, trying to control my breathing. (my inhaler was about 2000 miles away...) I watched the flecks of ash scurry along the sidewalk. I was quite a sight. Sprawled out in my new dress on the sidewalk, trying to catch my breath outside a farmers market while police helicopters circled above me, cursing between wheezes.

It's hard to be a lady when you can't breathe.

The Chief took us back to his place, a sweet little house with an avocado tree in the backyard, and I fell right asleep. All that wears a girl out.

On a jet plane...

Off to LA; have a loverly weekend!!

True love

I'm having an existential love crisis.

My grandmother developed breast cancer a few years ago. She was the quintessential grandmother. She was always funny, sweet, loving and dignified. Even when my mom was hysterical and upset, my Granny always seemed under control. (at least she always was in front of me, which is a testament to what kind of woman she was.) After chemo, losing her hair, energy and so many other things, she was cancer free! 2 months later she was feeling tired again; the cancer was back and with a vengeance. She wouldn't recover this time. It had spread to her bones and brain. We were hoping she would make it to Christmas. She didn't.

We drove to the funeral, about a thousand miles. My mother was obviously upset. She was angry too. I sat next to her as the evangelical preacher with the big hair eulogized my Granny as "Paula"... not her name. I'm sure she would have laughed about that but I was pissed.

10 days after the funeral, my family came to stay at my parents house for Christmas. My uncle's color in his face got better since he was eating real food. And my grandpa cried a lot. It's hard to see a father figure in your life cry...

We had banded together as a family and I truly believed that we would be better for it. Little did anyone know that within 4 months my grandpa would start seeing another woman.

They plan to get married early next year.

My Granny will be gone for 2 years this Christmas. She had told my mom before she died that she knew this woman would weasel her way into his life. She made my mother promise to not let that woman get all the things that were supposed to go to her family. She didn't want that woman to have the family heirlooms.

So 6 weeks ago we got a UHaul and drove the thousand miles again and cleaned my grandpa out. We took the sofas, tables, chairs. We took the old records, dresses, fabric. I took all her sewing supplies and costume jewelry. Anything that meant anything, my mother wanted out of the house. She was so angry at him. I understood why she felt that way but I didn't feel that way myself. Until last Monday.

I was unpacking boxes in my studio. I was marveling how unorganized it all was; the paint brushes were thrown in the box with all the yarn and thread everywhere. We had packed like we were on a sinking ship. Next to a bundle of ink pens I found a box with pink roses on it. It was labeled "Love Letters". (My Granny was the label queen!) I carefully opened the letters and read, one after another. My grandpa had written some of the most beautiful and sweet letters. On the back of his math homework, he had written that he pledged his love to her for all time. While he was in boot camp, he wrote how much he missed her and that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

I couldn't stand it. Was it all a lie? Did he change his mind after all these years? Was this how true love ends? Not happily ever after but with deceit, lies, weakness and betrayal? Are all men like this? Can they all write this stuff and not mean it? Do women do this too? I know I couldn't... Was it a lie when he wrote it? Do people get caught up in the 'fluff' love and never have true love? I don't understand...

This has rocked me at my core. As much as I hate to admit it, I have always been a dreamer. I believe that love conquers all. I believe in happily ever after. I believe that you find that special person and you make a life together and you love that person for the rest of your life. Together, you take on the harsh world. The love you have lives forever. True, I never expected my grandpa to die alone. He doesn't have to because his wife of 50 years died but I didn't expect this...

Today, I don't want to get married. Ever. Love is a sham. A lie that we tell ourselves. It's really about finding someone who doesn't drive you crazy and cohabiting. There will be affection, devotion and respect if you're lucky. Today, true love doesn't exist.

That's how I feel today. Tomorrow I may feel differently, but today, today that is how I feel.

And it breaks my heart.

Death in the next cubicle

What would Frank do?

I think my co-worker is a serial killer.

He's tall, in his mid 40's, white male. He lives alone. He has a high, soft, effeminate voice, but laughs very loudly. He dresses like a construction worker but I have never seen a speck of dirt on him.

He has many odd personal habits. For example, a few days after he began working for The Company, he came up to me to ask about protocol. Note this is the first time I have ever spoken with this guy... He does a kind of hop/jump into the door frame of my office, claps his hands and does a kind of "ta da!" pose complete with jazz hands. You heard me. It's like he was auditioning for Piedmont county community theater's production of Chorus Line.

He's constantly putting little notes he gets off the internet in my mailbox. "The liberals are taking over!" "Anthrax attacks orchestrated by Mexican illegals!" "The Jew Conspiracy is selling your cell number to call centers! Be part of the 'do not call' list!" I think he wears his mother's bed sheets and burns crosses on his front yard on the weekends.

I'm pretty sure he lures boys into his basement and offers them candy and Jesus juice. He's just like a kid, but with better toys and all grown up! Eww...

Or maybe he has human heads mounted on the walls and eats his Raman instant noodles out of skull caps while listening to Madam Butterfly on his mother's old record player. It's Mother's favorite record, you know...

"I kill hookers in my basement!"

I'm pretty sure his hobbies include hiking, taxidermy, auto erotic asphyxiation masturbation, and flower arranging.

And his name is Terry. That's the final nail in the coffin... so to speak.

All I do know for sure... I'm keeping my letter opener in a holster under my pant leg from now on...


*Update*
He drives a van. A van people! If there isn't a severed foot hidden in the wheel well of that van, I'll eat my hat.

My regrets

*Scratching my mac flat screen (on accident)
*Applying to AI
*Walking out the door without saying good bye
*Being his "girlfriend" while he lied/cheated over and over
*Losing that jacket
*My car getting broken into and vandelized
*Letting myself go
*Letting him walk on me (Never again!)
*Staying at that job for too long
*Not changing high schools one more time
*that I regret anything, because it made me who I am today.

You may call me a dreamer...

It seems as if this election and subsequent win of Obama has brought out the best and worst in people.

Now, let me say, this is not a political post. This is about people. Peoples beliefs and actions. Sure, they may be motivated by politics but I think many are moved by their own feelings.

I saw a young woman on TV, crying. She was saying how she really believed that Obama could change things and she had faith and hope in our country. It was amazing to see her fill up with emotion in front of everyone and speak so positively about this country, especially since so many young people have felt disenfranchised in the last 10 years or so.

Then I read an article saying how WBC (Westboro Baptist Church... thanks again Kansas) will picket the funeral of Madelyn Payne Dunham, Obama's grandmother. (still haven't found crediable source to secure it's validity...wait for it...) As a writer, I'm all for free speech. Say what you want! Write what you want.... but really? Does tact count for nothing?

Have you ever been to a funeral? Was it someone you loved? Was your heart breaking? Did your head hurt from crying so hard? Why don't you add some protesters yelling hateful things about you and your deceased loved one... That will make it much better, won't it? I get they're trying to make a point but at what point do you as a human being cross the line? Just because you have the right doesn't mean you have to exercise it... at a funeral...yelling obscenities... at the mourners.

And then...*sigh* while looking for a creditable source about the WBC, I found something that make my heart hurt. I hate even writing it... godhatesfags.com

G-d, I feel dirty just having it on there.

Now I know there are so many hateful websites out there... KKK, anti-Islam, people posting "truth" that the Holocaust never happened... I steer clean of such things. Just knowing they exist is enough. Ignorance it everywhere. But these people bring G-d into it. Hardcore. It makes me want to cry. Do they believe in a G-d that can hate so much? That's so sad to me.

So much pain is inflicted by those who seem to only have one goal... inflict enough pain until someone says "you know what, you're right".

Their tactics are to spew hate, out of the mouths of babes... Children, usually between 8 and 12 hold signs saying "You're going to hell" "God Hates Fags" "God hates you". They call themselves Love Crusaders but are techniqually classified as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center. They believe EVERY bad thing that has happened in the world is due to homosexuality. Blanket statement much? These people protested Jerry Falwell and Billy Graham for crying out loud! Extreme, is an understatement.

I surround myself with caring people, positive things and love, so I guess I forget that there are still people in America who are like this. My heart aches.

I choose to believe in that girl. The blond girl crying on the sidewalk in front of the white house. There is so many good things to come and it's an exciting time and she has faith in the future.

I choose to believe not because I am blind, but because I have faith. I have faith that the good in people will find their way into the brain and heart. I have faith that love can concur all. I have faith.

You may call me a dreamer...


Check out this site; it's a parody to the aformentioned site. Flippin hilarious. Laugh and be happy.
http://www.godhateseveryoneexceptforus.com/purpose.html

I think I'm diabetic now...

Just spent the last hour reading about cake... Bad cake. Hilarious cake. Hideous cake. I've been laughing so hard... at cake. It's amazing. No one knows how to spell "Congratulations". Ha! I love the world.

Mmm, now I need cake. Be right back...

Go check it out. Do it now.

http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/

Off to vote!

Vote vote vote bitches!!
That's what I'm gonna do.
See you at the polls!