Super Psycho Magnet

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I have no excuse other then I’ve been lazy. It seems for about the past year the only thing I’ve really posted were updates telling you that I’m going to start posting again. As much as I would like to say this time is going to be different, I can’t make any promises.

This blog hasn’t been forgotten. I think about it on almost a daily basis, actually. My thoughts run along the line of, “I should really blog more.” Then I get lost in a smoky sea of beer and cigarettes and wind up crying on my dogs shoulder over something stupid, like the dead duck I saw in the middle of the road. (More on the one later.)

I don’t know what changed, other then every single thing in my life. From moving back to Maryland to getting separated from the Navy to major changes in daily operations, it’s been a really long year. As I sit on the cusp of another huge life change I wonder why I’ve stopped chronicling my thoughts, hopes, fears and shit that I think is just funny. One of my therapists said that journaling is the best way to get things off your chest and I supposed that when I decided that I didn’t need my meds anymore I didn’t need to do anything to keep myself sane. For the past few months I’ve been bottling everything and play the Fine Game. Maybe now that I see myself in a place where I’m thinking about going back on meds, all I really need to do is to start blogging again.

Maybe these are just ramblings of a crazy person. I don’t know.

What I do know is that most of the blogs that I follow have taken a similar hiatus and, while it makes me feel better, is no excuse. Does this mean that I’m actually going to start writing on a regular basis? Probably not. I can say that I am going to make a more conscience effort.

There was a 30 minute conference call at my office today. It included everyone through out the entire company in many different states. What was being talked about didn’t apply to me so much because of when I was hired. Everyone was safely tucked in their cubes so I took the time to take some pictures with my camera phone.

The bumble bee toe socks I wore today because the weather was crappy. Have YOU ever heard of something bad happening to someone wearing bumble bee toe socks?

The label maker that motivates me to go to work in the morning.

The creepy-ass doll that looks over my desk. I have nightmares about her but she’s the office mascot.

The wellies I wore to work today. Again, have you heard of something bad happening to anyone wearing wellies?

Sometimes I go cross-eyed and let some crazy out.

Dear Sir,

I should start by apologizing for this apology being slightly after the fact. After 14 years some would say that it’s too little too late, but hey, what’s a few years between friends?

When I first saw you, I was 11 years old. I thought you were cute even under all that cake make-up, straw hat and overalls. The first time I actually meet you was the first week, of my first year in high school. It was the first Drama Club meeting of the year. That was the day I got my nickname for the rest of the year. ((My sister had graduated 3 years prior so the people that were freshmen when my sister graduated were seniors when I was a freshman.)) For the rest of the year I was known as the Little Sister.

Moving on, I remember watching you as Sergent-at-Arms and thinking about how cute you were. I also remember thinking that you could never like someone so much younger, and you probably already had a girlfriend, and I should probably just shut up and go about my business.

I didn’t. No surprise there. Somehow I worked my way into your group of friends and made my own mark. And you did notice me. And somehow we started dating.

I think it was the fact most of my friends were seniors that brought on my delusions of grandeur. I was the only freshman I knew who was hanging out with the cool Drama Club seniors (Jesus H. Christ, I’m a nerd). When someone suffers from the feeling of being much greater then they really are they tend to take things for granted. They tend to take people for granted.

That’s exactly what I did to you. You were always good to me. You opened doors and always paid for my way. We talked for hours on the phone and in person. You comforted me when I was upset. You were the only person to visit me when I had mono for three weeks, knowing that you would inevitably get sick too (and you did).

For all that you did for me, the only thing I have to do is apologize for the way I treated you.

It’s really easy to sit here and say that it was because I was young and I didn’t know any better. I knew right from wrong by the time I was five. It really boils down to the fact that I was a brat, and maybe I still am. I always wanted what I wanted, when I wanted it and it didn’t matter who else was there.

For all the things I did, I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Walter Bean
Chief of Master Plans

I can’t remember the last time I was able to say that.

When I was in Hawaii, everyone I worked with with was married, had children, or both and no one would say, “Hey, it’s been a rough day. Lets go get a drink after work.”

It’s been almost two years since someone has said that to me. Until tonight.

Granted we stayed for less then an hour but I cannot tell you how good it felt to sit at a table with friends from work and discuss…. nothing really. Just to sit there and blather about nothing. It was awesome.

Don’t get me wrong. The friends I have are awesome and I would move the world for them. It’s just been so long since I’ve been able to go out with people and do nothing.

The feeling I have at the moment is indescribable.

It’s the closest I’ve felt the being myself in over two years.

This would be the handy work of one Betsy Fragelina, IV. I’ve taken “The Honorable” off of her title because I am so very mad at her.

She actually accomplished this one yesterday. She figured out how to climb out of her crate and, in doing so, destroyed the blinds in my living room.

Piece of advice. Measure all your windows before trying to take blinds from one window and putting them on another. It only adds to your frustration.

p.s. I’m back.

I swear I’m not doing this one on purpose.

Every-God-damned-time I get the energy to start writing on a regular basis something else happens and I’m out of contact with a computer for a stupid amount of time.

I’ll have a regular connection back again soon…. I hope.

I would love, more then anything, to be sitting here uploading pictures to show you what I’ve been up to this summer.

Alas, I am not able to because someone has moved the plastic box of randomness that contains the cord to link my camera to my computer. As it’s not as fun to sit here and describe things I’m going to have to wait. Sorry.

I can say this, and I know I’ve said it before but I mean it for real this time… I’m back. I figured today was a good day to make my comeback because it’s the first day of fall. My summer is over and I’ve got to get back to real life.

If only I could find the damn cord for my camera.

The truth is……

Liquor is quicker.

I don’t know how else to say it…

Candy is dandy….. Liquor IS quicker IS quicker.

My hiatus is near an end. I will be back next week on a schedule.

Hummus does not make a good substitute for cream cheese on your bagel in the morning.

- Lesson learned: 7:48 am

I got married last night. Twice. The first guy was amazing. Good looking, rich, tall. I do love my tall boys. However, his family didn’t really approve of the marriage. They are rich and I am not. So, they don’t like me. They didn’t think I was going to be able to put together a nice wedding with nice dresses. They figured it was going to be something more West Virginia.

I had beautiful red dresses picked out for my bridesmaids, Paris, Niki and Nichole. I had a fantastic white dress with red trim for myself. We were all in line and ready to walk down the isle with my Daddy giving me away. As soon as my bridesmaids started walking their dresses turned into blue t-shirts and blue skirts that didn’t match. I watched them all go to the alter in horror. When I started walking my dress turned into cut-offs and a dirty wife-beater with mustard stains. Awesome.

Once I got to the alter I had to decide if I wanted to stop the wedding and go change or if I should just go through the ceremony wearing my white-trash outfit. I figured the ceremony was what was more important so I got married in my wife-beating uniform much to the dismay of my parents-in-law.

There was no reception. Just a honeymoon. And it was awesome. No consummating the marriage. Just a good time.

A little while later, my husband and I were visited by our good friend, Jon Stewart. Jon told me that I had made a mistake and I should have married him instead. My husband agreed so he transferred the title, so to speak, and I become Jon Stewart’s wife.

About the same time I was introduced to a secret society that ranked the sons of the rich. There were 2000 men on the list. As a wife of one of them and ex-wife to another, I was entitled to know where they both ranked. Two beautiful women came forward both wearing white shirts and holding pink pieces of paper in front of them. The lowered their pieces of paper reveling pure white shirts. Then the lights went out and a black light came on. The shirts glowed in the black light. My ex husband was ranked 5 out of 2000. My current husband, Jon Stewart, ranked 1 out of 2000.

One of the stipulations of being shown your husband’s ranking is that you’re not allowed to tell him where he falls on the list. When Jon came to pick me up it was the only thing on my mind. I have the best husband of all the rich people ever! I told him that I really wanted to tell him but I was not able to. Being the awesome husband that Jon Stewart is, he told me that his ranking didn’t matter because he had the best wife ever. He then grabbed my hand and gently rubbed thumb over the back of it, even over to my thumb and the ugly-ass wart that I’ve had for over 5 years that I’m trying to slowly burn off. He ever loves my nasty warted hands.

I still wasn’t satisfied with my husband not knowing where he ranked. I went with him to his work and he held my hand the entire time just so people would know we were together. He let me borrow his car because I had “errands” to run. I drove to the secured Army base to steal the t-shirts that had the rankings on them. They tried to stop me at the gate but I only had to tell them who my husband was and they let me through without any proof of ID.

I sneaked into the closet where the shirts were and when I turned around my ex-husband was standing with my current husband. I gave my ex-husband his shirt with a hug and “I still love you,” whispered in his ear. As I gave Jon Stewart his shirt he looked at me with his doe eyes and said, “I lo……”

Then I woke up.