Digsite

We’re all in the car on our way back home from Miami today when we stop at a gas station. D gets out, pumps some gas, buys some water and gets back in the car. Before we start moving again, I look over at him and noticed all this cob-web looking fuzz stuck to his face by his mouth.

Me: reaching out to touch the fuzz. “Oh hang on, what’s this? Omg, you’ve got fuzz on your face. Ewww!”

Him: I start to pull it off and he says nothing

Me: I show him the wad of fuzz and asked, “Jesus! Where’d this come from?!”

Him: “Ok, I confess. I went down on a stuffed animal.”

Me: “What?! Right, and it squirted its innards all over your face?”

Him: “I’m good.”

I’ve often wondered what the secret might be for preventing certain things that might go on in my day from making a clean slate of a day turn into a crap chute of a day. I don’t know. Grow a thick skin? Mine seems to be in need of some exercise because it’s become fairly susceptible to negativity. It doesn’t rebound as easily as it might have once upon a time.

Ok, here’s how to make me have a bad day.

Wake up 15 to 10 minutes from the time I’m supposed to be at work. The only way to make it on time would be to skip the shower, skip brushing my teeth, skip changing my underwear and skip getting a brush through my hair. So just get up, throw on my jeans, socks, shoes, shirt. Tie my hair back, wash my face, grab my purse and leave.

Get to work “in the nick of time” and arrive to find scowls on everybody’s faces. No “hello”‘s. This is when I resort to grunting if someone did say hello.

Scratch that. Instead of scowls on everyone’s face, my next-door coworker is especially chipper and would like nothing else but to talk about irrelevant drivel all morning when I’d like nothing else than for him to shut the fuck up.

Ah yes, that’d piss me off real good.

I get coffee but it sucks. I log in to my workstation and read my email and I find emails addressed directly to me asking for some shit or other and it has to be taken care of THAT DAY. A 9am meeting reminder pops up on my monitor resulting in a deep sigh and slouching further into the seat.

As the day progresses, annoying overly talkative coworkers boast about some accomplishment of theirs or another while I’m made to listen (because I’m not deaf).

Scratch that, I’m asked some question by coworkers and when my groggy self can’t think up an answer fast enough, they scoff or say something with that “sound” in their voice. You know the one. Yeah, that’ll steam up my eyeballs really good for a few moments then I’ll move on because I know if I stay there too long, I’d need to leave – literally.

Fast forward to 30 minute before leaving. Next shift shows up along with annoying coworker I’ll call Grover. Grover won’t shut up with his annoying voice and “different” speech and I’ll be glad that it’s nearly time to leave the premises but before I leave, Grover says something that completely deflates me and has me feeling like I wanna run my minivan into every fucken ninny with a license on the road.

I thank my gods of cobal that my drive home is only 10 minutes long.

I get home, baby is screaming because she’s starving, J starts her annoying whining for cartoons and juice, the dogs are barking because I’ve just arrived and they start scratching at the bedroom door (because they’re not allowed to roam the house when there’s nobody home). I open the door to the bedroom to let them out and the nauseating whiff of dog shit hits me like a bat in the face. I stretch my neck in and see the pile of dog stench on the floor. I stretch my neck even farther and see dog pee puddled up against the far wall of my room.

If I wasn’t already angry enough by then to dismember my second born and feed her limbs to the dragon in the tank, I probably am now.

The rest of the evening is a production line of ass wiping, kid feeding, scaring off my dog obsessed with licking everything in sight, followed by 2 hours of nonstop whining, crying, screaming, begging for cherios, chips, ice cream, cartoons, attention, and more juice.

If it’s a really bad day, the kids go to bed an hour early. I pray neither wakes up for the rest of the night and I collapse on the couch feeling tense and drained the rest of the night. Truly unwinding is not possible until I pass out unconscious somewhere between my couch and my bed.

Sadly, this recipe for a bad day happens more often than I care to say. And when it doesn’t, I spend my late nights writing about it.

So everybody is talking about guns and gun laws after the massacre that’s all over the news. I don’t want to beat a dead horse but I thought it might be helpful for me to explore where I stand on this matter.

Simply put, I’m terrified of guns. Terrified. I don’t want one on me, in the same house as me or anywhere near me or my kids. Especially my kids. I think they are dangerous and needless. I know many people would disagree with me. That’s fine.

Someone said at work today “If you outlaw guns, then the only people with guns will be outlaws.” Cute little saying, but isn’t this the way it is already? It’s more often that the people who have no use for guns in their lives, are the ones without the guns. What in the fuck do people think would happen if they knew that every man and woman was carrying a weapon? Do they think that if carrying a concealed weapon were legal that we wouldn’t have more “psychopaths” out there with them, legally? And that the second they snap or lose their temper they wouldn’t just “black out” and use that gun on someone? Remember, this korean guy was “just like the rest of us” before he did what he did.

Here’s an example of the sort of stuff I foresee happening:
Jack is driving down the freeway and suddenly gets cut off by Joe. Jack is infuriated and starts flipping Joe the finger. Joe gets pissed off that he’s just been flipped off so he changes lanes, slows down and rolls down his window so he can yell obscenities back at Jack. Jack freaks out when he sees Joe rolling down his window and thinks “oh shit, this guy’s a lunatic. He just cut me off and now he’s swerving around the road and lowering his window and looking really pissed. He’s going to shoot!”. Jack starts reaching for his own gun so he can be ready to defend himself if he needs to and Joe sees Jack’s reaching movements. Joe thinks “Oh shit, he’s a fucking crazy lunatic. He’s gonna shoot!”.

Now does it even matter who shoots first?! Because if it’s my kid that gets hit with a stray bullet on that freeway on our way to visit family for the holidays (because statistics say that even a seasoned cop can’t hit a moving target, let alone two idiots on the road), the all I’m going to care about, in what will then be my delirious state of mind, is bargaining with a god I don’t believe in to get my kid back.

There’s just no way that you can guarantee that only responsible people would carry guns or only people without a short fuse would carry guns.

What does the average “Joe” need a gun for?! Joe doesn’t have horses to protect or coyotes and bears to scare off. We’re not fighting a war on our homeland against the Brits. And last I checked, the civil war was over.

Um.. I think I’ve been watching way too many episodes of How Clean Is Your House? because I’m beginning to hear those ladies’ voices in my head. I guess that sort of thing runs in the family, eh? har!

While doing some vacuuming and dusting today I came across a couple ugly globs of dust and dog hair and I heard these two women saying “Oh Aggie, Looook!!” and “What IS that. You’re such dirty begger!”. Then while scrubbing a pot I noticed there some grease that is hardened and won’t come off around the handle…. and the voice went something like “Oh now if you want nice shiney pots and pans you can be proud of just put a bit of salt and bicarbonate soda on that and scrub it with a damp wash cloth… now see how easy that was? aahh… See how lovely that looks!”

Hmm.. there’s a bright side to this tho. They may drown out the other voices that always said “Ah, who the fuck cares. Mess is good”.

Maya’s first birthday party is just eight days away and I’m experiencing the usual feelings of trepidation and dread. DAMNED ANXIETY!! I feel like we have loads and loads to do and won’t have enough time to do it in!! It’s really not all that bad, I don’t think. But my mind always manages to over inflate the situation.

Having people over has never been second nature for me either. I better get over that quick considering we’ll have at least 2 parties to throw each year. Would be nice to just do it and enjoy the entire process for a change.

I didn’t invite a whole hell of a lot of people but now I wish I had because what if (there go the whatif’s) what if too many people don’t come and we end up with a flop of a party? That’d be really depressing.

Sigh… but anyway, I rented a bounce house early this week for the occasion. Even if we don’t get many kids I’m sure J will enjoy it. Hell, I’ll even go in there. Why not.

I have found it pretty difficult to write in my blog these days because the only thing I have on my mind is the one thing I can’t write about. Hopefully after a post about how I can’t write about what’s on my mind, maybe I can get passed it and stop thinking about said thing I can’t write about.

I will say this tho, that I have been feeling so much like a freaking victim these days. So much more than I ever thought I would. There maybe a good reason or there might not be any reason at all. Who knows. All I know is I’ve been walking around pretending to be on this planet when all my brain is really doing is wandering aimlessly and blindly in a fog and bumping into things and then turning around and bumping into whatever’s next like those little cars for kids that run around bumping and turning. Makes no sense, I know. But like I said I can’t really elaborate on anything now can I.

Sigh… I’ll just talk about how I feel. I feel weak. I feel stupid. I feel ashamed, embarrassed, duped. I was sitting in my couch looking at my daughter yesterday and wondered what things I’d say to her when she’s older about the jobs I’ve had in my lifetime and especially about the recent few days. I’m sure I’ll get over it all by then and be able to tell her about everything objectively and laugh about it all. But right now, this week, I feel stupid. I don’t feel good. I feel sucked in by two sides. One side is in the wrong, perverted, and sick. The other side is in the right, righteous, and empowering. Did Anakin Skywalker feel this conflicted? At any rate, I think I’ll stick with the empowering side, the side that will restore my dignity. I’ll try to draw energy from there from now on.

Ahh… Thanks, blog-of-mine. You always come through for me and make me feel better about anything that weighs heavy on my mind.

Maybe now I can get back to blogging about other things like how my daughter tells me “I’m so proud of you” whenever I do what she asks.