My 200th Post!, or, Freedom!

My siblings and niece just left. LEFT. I can't really tell you how.....relieved I am. Seriously, the door closed behind them and I just heaved this huge sigh and my posture changed and everything.

But now, some photos. Not of the darlings in question, but of T and I. ('Cause its funny and people like to look at pictures on blogs. So there.)

First, we went to some waterfalls which are like, right the flip by my house. I used to send tourists there all.the.time. but had never been myself.



T takes a picture and tells me to look just as the flash goes off. So, so flattering.



And these are the falls. Terribly exciting, no?




T poses, again, somewhere I fear to tread.

Here we are, posing with my huge, gigantic purse (I really didn't realize how large that thing is until just now.....) at the Rock and Roll Museum



Anyway. Mostly I am just relieved that my family has departed. I am so mortified by my one sisters' behavior--telling T that he must have a small dick--and all the other crap she pulled while she was here. She is obviously pissed off at me about something, but cannot bring herself to actually tell me what it is. She must punish me, and therefore T by proxy.

I'm really, really over it. And I am NOT going to California.

There aren't words, really

For how ready I am for it to be Sunday, and for my life to return to some semblance of normalcy.

I mean, really.

Went to city with 2 sisters and one niece. Niece has never seen this city. Did all the touristy crap that I hate. (but went to the Sci-Fi museum, which was far cooler than I could have hoped. Dork, that's me!) We did a reasonable amount of walking--nothing so hideous that my bad knees and aching back (I really, really should be going to the chiropractor/massage therapist for my old injuries. Really. God bless the healthcare system in this country.) protested. Niece held up fine, but she's 16. Her mother was fine. T was fine. My other sister? Not fine.

My other sister, who lives the closest to me, is overweight. Not huge, not fat, but overweight. She smokes (but so does everyone but my niece), and she does.not.excise. But neither does anyone but my niece, again.

We walked about, oh, a half a mile.

My sister, the overweight smoker that she is, laid into T something ferocious. She was displeased that he had told her we would be done in 5 blocks or so, when it was more like 6 after the shopping took place. After huffing and snorting her exhaustion and displeasure, she said to him, and me,

"Does T measure the size of his penis the same way he does city blocks?"

and it just went from there. Me defending him, T apologising in an attempt to keep the peace, her stomping off into a store before I could call her out for her wildly inappropriate comments.

We haven't really spoken to each other since. She has tried to act like nothing is going on, like it's no big deal, and I have answered in as few words as possible.(This is so, so my family. Insult someone, throw a tantrum, act like you haven't done a damn thing ever to anyone.....UGH! I am pissed off at her anyway for her complete lack of interest in getting her part in the estate settled and her mean spirited gossip about me to the rest of the family. She has to be an idiot to not think that my cousins, the only people in this family I can stand (aside from my niece, it would seem. I don't hate her one bit, the darling...unlike the rest of the nieces and nephews. Well, half nephews are ok but that's besides the point.) would tell me that they heard these things about me? Jesus.) I understand that my actions are technically passive aggressive, that I just went on this whole rant a few posts ago about how much I hate that shit, but my options are 1)Fume about it and do nothing or 2)Do something and have it turn into this gigantic pain in my ass as she holds the golden checkbook. She could, and has, punish me very easily with this. T is over it, he expects this kind of behavior from them. He doesn't want me to react in any way, and I respect that. Don't really agree, but I respect his wishes.

But really? Don't fuck with T. Not on my watch. I don't care who you are.

Needless to say, my ass will NOT be going to California next month. I don't care if she buys the tickets and gilds them for me, I will be here. Thanks.

I am over it. Over the back biting, the bitching, the two facedness. All this one sister has done (and she's normally the nice one!) is complain about me, my actions, behavior, words, everything. I cooked a HUGE meal last night and she bitched because she volunteered to do the dishes and there were a lot of them. I offered to help, but no, no! Fuck off. I just cooked a 6 item meal (steak, salmon, potatoes, stuffing, caprese, tomato salad) to every ones standards and requests, waiting for HER to arrive to start (Oh, and I made cookies too. And breakfast that morning, but those were before she got there) so it would be hot and fresh, and she is pissed off about the dishes.

She yelled at us in public for T kissing me on the temple.

I'm ready for them to go home.

Stolen....

Quick! (As posting shall be sparse, as well as the time to do it in, for a few more days...)

1)My sisters and niece are here. Sisters still themselves, niece is six feet tall, red hair and gorgeous. (haven't seen her since she was in diapers.) Also, not a horrible person.

2)Going to city tomorrow with sisters, niece and T. Please, lord, don't let me stab anyone.

3)Apparently, going to California next month with sisters to see horrible (different) niece's art show. Sigh. This involves flying....and family. Kill me.

4)I stole this from Brian. Accuse as necessary.



You find a fairy. With a wave of their wand they can change anything for you.

What is the one thing you would change about your body?
Lose 40 pounds and stop having the skin of a 14 year old pizza boy.

What is the one personality trait you would change?
My divine need to take care of everyone but myself.

What is the one thing about your job you would change?
I would love it to exsist. Or that it paid better, as I am currently busting my ass all the time for free.

What is the one thing about your home you would change?
Just one thing? New Floorswindowsbathroomskitchennoroomies.

What is the one thing about your Significant Other you would change?
I would love him to have more pride in himself and his accomplishments. (To see in himself what I see in him.) Otherwise, not a damn thing.

Who is the one person you would poof out of your life and why?
My mother. If you have read this blog before, you know. (Brian, I laughed my ass off when you called that dude a butt plug. Seriously.)

Who is the one person you would poof back in and why?

My dads. Both of them.


Wish me luck with the fam, kiddies. I may need it.

Bits and Bobs

I hate that term. Odds and ends, ok. Bits and Pieces. Gotcha. But Bits and Bobs make me imagine a spunky old couple, wearing matching pastel golf outfits, power walking around their retirement home, laughing so loud and big you can see their dental work glinting.

Anyway, just random updates today.

Watched South Park's Imaginationland last night....meh. It was ok. Some funny parts. Like watching Anubis pushing Snarf from the Thundercats down a slide. That's something I would think about.

T's brother J has made a complete 180 as far as helping out goes. I started lumping his filth in with M's, the new roomie--his filth puts all of ours to shame. Well, when J started having to clean up after M....the world changed. Reality Check for the man--now he not only picks up after himself, but helps me to do general upkeep as well.

And we are on the edge of evicting M. He never, never not once, has cleaned anything. Leaves a tsunami of shit behind him wherever he goes--he is so, so SO much worse than J ever considered being. But rather than behaving sheepishly, or ignoring me when I say something, M cops a huge attitude. He yells at me, tells me I am passive aggressive when I just clean up the mess after I ask him to do it and he stares at me like I have asked him to remove his testicles. Also, T and I bent some rules for him and rather than respect that, he has taken complete advantage. If something goes wrong with this, T and I, especially T, will pay a huge price.

T is having the big boy talk with him today.

He has no where else to go, we all know that. But he also doesn't know how fucking easy he has it. Don't burn your bridges--especially if you're standing on it.

T is enjoying his days off by sleeping. A lot.

My friend and bowling dude A had his first beer in over a year a few days ago, and it was hilarious. But I am glad that I was able to share this moment with him. (Note: Chugging a Black Butte Porter when you have had NO ALCOHOL for over a year will give you a buzz. A didn't realize this until it was too late, and hilarious. I have pics, I will post them later.)

My sisters and niece are coming next week, which means that I will probably have torn all my hair out by the time they leave. And blogging will be light while they are here.

Fire me some comments, people!! Please? :)

Mornings are Bad

My mother is famous for calling my house, no one answering, her refusing to leave a message and just calling back. Again, and again, and again, because she thinks we are sleeping. If I don't angrily answer the phone by the fourth call, she will usually leave a message. But I can't take it that long. A ringing telephone will rouse me out of the deepest sleep, and there is nothing worse than laying there, 'ignoring' the phone. Maybe it's a throwback to everyone around me dying, but I cannot NOT answer the phone.

Anyway, today is T's first day off in 12. We had huge plans of sleeping LATE, snuggled together under the covers, being caressed by the fan, being cute and grossing out every member of his family that reads this. (Hi!)

The phone began to ring. I woke up, pried myself away from T, and listened. (I can usually make it through one phone call if, I'm really tired, without answering.) Depending on what the answering machine told me, I would go back to sleep, or angrily go back to sleep.

There was no message. They called back, immediately.

I hurled the covers off the bed. Pushed myself to my feet, waking T in the process. Banged the door open, and charged towards the phone.

I answered it in a not-very-friendly voice. I thought it was my mother.

It was not.

The woman on the other end asked for our roomie, M, but by his full name. (Which we never call him) In my sleep addled, super irritated state, I barked, "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number!" and hung up.

I then realized that it was probably M's mom. And that she had called twice because something terrible had happened, etc. (Spiralling into worry!)

So I wake up M, who works graveyard and hasn't been asleep that long, tell him what happened. He seemed unaffected by it. Still I feel really guilty.

I rock.

By the by, I must thank you for the way everyone came out of the woodwork over my recipes, people. Thanks. :)

Wants and Needs of My People

Hey, Dudes--yeah, all four of you....

You want I should post some of my more infamous recipes round these parts?

Things like my Lasagna Rolls, adapted from a Giada DeLaurentiis recipe?

Brie en Croute, with preserves?

California Caprese? Rosemary Chicken with Sun dried tomatoes and artichokes?

The salmon sauce that C hates?

Black and Bleu Burgers? Garlic Pub fries?

Banana/Zucchini bread?

Gumbo? Jambalaya? The POUNDCAKE?

Lets-Not-Make-This-A-Racial-Issue Brownies, newly expanded to LNMRaRI Cookies?

Spiced Wild Berries?

Any suggestions? I've prolly got a recipe for it if you can think of it.

Lemme know. :)

I'm off to make lasagna rolls and racial cookies for 21 people.

Creepy.....

I am terrified of animatronic toys. Beginning with good ol' Teddy Ruxpin when I was a child, the idea of an inanimate object talking and interacting with me goes against everything I stand for as far as my own mental health goes.

Tickle me Elmo. (Any of the interactive Elmo toys, really.) Aside from being the most annoying sounding toy on the planet, scary.

Furbies. Like gremlins on crack, they giggled and twittered me right into the fetal position. Ugh.

Robosapien. One of the kids I used to nanny for had one of these, and loved it. I wanted to put it in the closet and drink heavily after it wolf whistled at me.

Aibo, Robopet....They all make me want to hide.

FurReal Friends Cat, RoboReptile, Butterscotch the Pony.

And now....RoboPanda. Really?? I mean, come on.

They've already ruined dogs, cats, tribbles, and now the noble panda?

I understand the allure of these toys. They are, if you can get past the terror, kind of cool from a technology aspect. My father thought they were neat, simply because when he was a kid Lincoln Logs hadn't even been invented yet. This is the man that used to sing the praises of the microwave to anyone who would listen. TiVo about made him faint when I explained it to him. From that point of view, they are amazing.

One of the scariest things for me is the idea that there is something small and manevolent in my house, hiding, waiting to attack me. That scene in Aliens when the face hugger is in the medical bay, hiding and chasing Sigourney Weaver and the kid whose name I don't remember? So. Terrifying.

Understanding that the worst damage a Furby could do to me is kill me by annoyance, or cause me to trip over it and break a bone, I'm still afraid. I don't want to walk leisurely down my hall and have a small, disembodied voice giggle at me. I don't want a robotic panda bear to wave and ask me if I want to play. I don't want Elmo to laugh hysterically and beg me to dance, limbo, or do the YMCA.

It makes me feel as though I have lost my mind. Like reality has somehow shifted beneath me, and I am in the Toys 'R Us in hell.

T's youngest brother was terrified of the animatronic Godzilla toy they had as a kid. I'm sure everyone remembers this toy--A hard plastic Godzilla doll, about a foot high. If you pressed a button on it's back, it would screech, shoot sparks and smoke. Granted, A the baby brother was about a year old and the thing was nearly as big as he was, and he did have 8 elder siblings to torture him with it--But I feel his pain. Actually, I feel worse for him than for me, as he had recently discovered what his feet were for and suddenly there is a robotic, demonic screeching monster chasing him down the stairs. I have a good grasp on reality (most of the time, anyway) and understand what is and is not supposed to happen therein and can understand that Elmo truly does not mean me any harm.

It doesn't make me like the damn things, though.