Saturday, August 28, 2010

Hair of the Dog Anyone?

Setting: Last night, on the phone with Mama Bestie.

(Huffing and puffing and breathing hard in the phone. Is kind of a turn on.) "Hello?"

(I'm the one who calls her, incidentally.) "What do you want?" I ask with an extra special syrupy whining voice. You know, just to get her used to the joys of motherhood.

"You're the one who called me. Shouldn't you be asking that question to yourself?" She's continuing to breathe hard and now I'm hearing some crazy noises in the background.

"What the hell are you doing over there?" I have to hold the phone away from my ear because of the noise.

"I'm opening up this deshedding tool I just bought." So. Many. Jokes.

"Deshedding tool? Hpmh. Is that what you kids are calling it these days? I used to call it a razor, but maybe with all those pregnancy hormones you have going on, you need an actual deshedding tool."

Is breathing even louder now. "You are so not funny. And I'm not the one with hair growing on my knuckles."

"Did Nurse Betty tell you about that? She didn't tell you about the whole 'knuckle dragger' conversation, did she? And really, what's with the breathing? Are you deshedding something good?"

"Well, I do want to look good for the birth."

"....." She's rendered me speechless.

"I'm kidding, you nut. It's for the dogs. They needed a good brushing."

"I need one for my cats. The hair is outrageous."

"Riiiiiight. The cats. Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"

Ignoring her comment. Mostly because I don't have something witty to say back. "Again, what's with the breathing? If you're gonna breathe like that at least follow it up with some dirty talk."

"I've got a giant belly that's in my way every time I do anything. You'd be breathing hard, too. Besides, I'm sitting on the chair bending over to brush the dog."

"Right. And why is it that I hear this bzzzzzz sound?"

"It's the deshedding tool. Works better if it vibrates."

"Riiiiiight. Maybe I need to get one, too. You know, for the cats. And so I can look good for the birth, too."

"....." Awesome. I shut her up.

Monday, August 23, 2010

I'm Sorry You're Pissed

Nurse Betty needs to start her own line of greeting cards. It would be a Happy Bunny meets Barbie meets brutally honest biotch. And every card would end with a "K! Buh bye!" just to piss you off even more. I'm not mad at her or anything, it's just that in the last two years or so, she's become....honest. And by honest I mean no-holds-barred honest, which in the Single Girl land of happy kittens and puppies means that she's become a bitch.

The thing is, though, that if you tell her this, she revels in it. She laughs at your compliment and thanks you! Which makes her a bigger bitch! And the fact that I'm pointing this out may run me the risk of being one, too, but since she and I are practically joined at the hip, there's a good chance that her behaviors have rubbed off on me.

You see, once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I was once a bowl-stacking, watch-wearing, never-be-late-or-I-shall-perish sort of girl. I might as well been called Drill Sargent - Nurse Betty did once - and it wasn't because I was donning a cute Halloween costume for a party at The Hef's. If I had to be someplace, I was there 5 minutes early come hell or high water, or even Princess' tears of agony. This annoying need to be on time and have every dish in its place stems from my divorce. If I couldn't control anything going on with my life, I could damn well control how I existed. Enter Nurse Betty.

I'm not sure if the theme music to my life at the moment Nurse Betty and I began being friends would be some sappy Dionne Warwick song about friends or something more like Let It Be by the Beatles. My life definitely changed when I met her, though. Imagine being a tough, rough and ready New Yorker with places to go and people to, yestehday already, eh? And enter in the Alabaman, complete with sweet tea, sweet disposition, no concept of time, on the eternal Sunday drive of her life. Take those two polar opposite personalities and meld them together. Did you see hell freeze over? Yep. just happened.

I stack the bowls. She haphazardly throws them in the cupboard, devil may care or be beheaded by a flailing ceramic bowl toppling down upon you. I like to be 5 minutes early to my destination. She's just getting into the shower 5 minutes before we have to be there. At the checkout line, I literally sprout grey hairs and exude steam from my ears like Frankenstein at his boiling point when the checker wads up my newly purchased clothes and throws them into a shopping bag. She helps the checker wad them up and throw them in the bag. Notice a pattern here? She just does, because these little things that get my panties in a bunch she finds useless to her overall life. No drama, no fakeness, no unnecessary.

All this lack of drama, fakeness, and unnecessary allows her to live her life as she sees fit, which includes telling it like it is. So it's no surprise that in the "I'm Brutally Honest" department, Nurse Betty's mug is right there, smiling at you. I've been told that if you look really hard, you can see her horns coming through her angelic blonde hair.

Saturday started off like any other glorious weekend day. I stayed in my PJs until I was damned well and ready to get out of them. I drank coffee on the couch and watched anything and everything I damned well wanted to. And just about the time I was texting Nurse Betty to nag her into waking up, she texted me. We have this sixth sense that way. It's ESPN.

We got to texting back and forth, and eventually got on a subject that hit a nerve. It wasn't so much the subject, but what Brutally Honest had to say about it that hit the nerve. And since I had my PMS gun cocked and loaded, I let her know that she had irritated me. Several times. And I fired some really bad bullets.

But that was short lived, because she sent me the funniest damn text I've ever gotten. It was shit your pants and giggle til you pee funny. Four words: "I'm sorry you're pissed." I laughed so hard I cried. And then I sent her a text apologizing for being mean, explaining my temper, and told her that I respected her opinion and that just because I got pissed doesn't mean I don't still care for her. And I commended her for her Hallmark-esque approach to diffusing the situation. We laughed about it and got through our little tizzy. That wasn't the best of it, though.

My PMS gun had a few remaining bullets and they were aimed at all the unfortunate stupid people that I encountered the rest of the day. I can't remember how long it's been since people pissed me off so badly. If I hadn't had Princess in the car, I'd have been using each middle finger - and Nurse Betty's - at the idiots on the road driving 20 mph in a 45. Who cares if I have to steer with my toes? Middle finger pointing at stupid people is more important when your PMS gun is cocked and ready to fire!! And all day long I had to do Lamaze to keep from hyperventilating at the sheer magnitude of frustration. Damn Nurse Betty had to sit next to me the entire time saying four little words to salt the wound. She smiled her angelic smile, the one that makes her horns pop up just a little bit more through her golden locks, and said it...

"I'm sorry you're pissed."

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Top Ten Reasons OK Sucks!

I wrote this post almost a year ago and never published it. And since I laughed at my own experiences, I thought you might, too.

From August 2009:

I promise I don't have a bad attitude. I am simply currently locationally-challenged. Because I have such a strong distaste of my whereabouts, I have created a "Top Ten Reasons OK Sucks" list. Here goes...

10. Mapquest doesn't even recognize this place I'm in as a real town.

9. The two hour time difference is causing my eyes to look like I've been crying for days on end. (Memo to amount of mascara can shield the crimson shade that the whites of my eyes have become.)

8. For a town that has more churches than Starbucks, there are no other radio choices than Black Sabbath and Li'l Wayne...and country music.

7. Day 2: I look like Diana Ross, or Monica Gellar when they all went to Bermuda. Am thinking of getting braids and beads so that I can make music, too.

6. I have the choice of fast food, fried fast food, or barbeque to eat.

5. Tornados. Or at least storms that look like they could produce tornados.

4. Torrential rain, oppressive humidty, lightning, and thunder. AT 2 AM!

3. Being called ma'am. Don't make me bitch-slap y'all.

2. Freeway offramps go for 3 miles and then make an abrupt U-turn without notice. Fun times in the rental car.

1. It's freakin' Oklahoma. And since there's nothing worse, I'm going to stop right here.

Friday, August 13, 2010

New Do, New Day

Over the past week, Princess and I have been settling back in to the norms of our existence here in Single Land. We've practiced getting up at our usual time when she's actually in school, and she's practiced being a full-fledged middle-school-er by complaining about it and falling back asleep. Something tells me that Mamma is gonna have to get a little creative with getting this little girl up for school come next Wednesday. I'm thinking foghorns and buckets of ice and maybe a worm on her nose? And she's been so clingy that I'm thinking about forging a small crowbar that I can hang from a large gold chain like some sort of rapper. I'd be pretty hot, too. All I'd need is a grill with my name in it. And a cool gangsta name. ...Yo!

The past week hasn't been without its own drama, sans moody pre-teen angst. I found out just this morning that my dear brother is heading to the other side of the world to be a contract fireman for a year. And my parents are relocating out of state so that they can have a steady income before their layoffs become finalized. All the world is in this persistent state of change, and despite appearances, my first inclination is to: A) eat an inordinate amount of donuts; B) drink Vodka and drunk text; or C) sob like a baby under the covers holding my teddy bear (i.e. a bottle of vodka and box of donuts). I promise I did none of these. Really, I swear I didn't. Okay, I might've fantasized about donuts. And I might've purchased the ingredients to make a funfetti cake but didn't follow through. And I might've barraged Nurse Betty's Facebook page with a multitude of puns and one liners in a futile cry for help, but it was all done completely sober!

It's no surprise that when I awoke this morning, upon realizing that I have a hair appointment, the prospect of a little pampering lifted my spirits. Plus, my hair is the one thing that I have the power to change and manipulate at my every whim, so the devious person inside of me was getting more inspired as each minute wore down to my appointment time. My mind raced with all the possibilities. Would I get some deceptive blue streaks underneath all my chocolate brown? How about getting all over blond highlights for some pizazz? Or maybe I should just cut it off? I toyed with each of these options, and as for color I decided a lighter shade with some highlights. Still gotta look professional for work, you know?

It wasn't until I got that fated text from my brother this morning detailing his urgent departure to elsewhere that I decided I needed to remember I was an adult. Life is going to change every day at varying degrees for the rest of my life. How I deal with it is up to me. I can choose to comfort myself with fried pastries of yummy goodness and an alcoholic beverage, but in the end, I'm only going to feel worse about myself. I need to remember that I am strong, I have a solid family, faith in God, and friends that kick ass in helping me get through the sticky stuff. I may be scared for what is in store, and I may shed a tear in response to that fear, but ultimately my friends, my faith, and my God will get me through it. So, resigned to be a kick-ass adult who faces change with optimism, I decided I needed a cut to go with it. I went for a blunt bang and lopped off a good 5" from my length a la Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada. These feet aren't wearing anything Prada-based, and I'm not carrying any Fendi bag complete with bad attitude - in fact it's more like BCBG and Nine West on a good day - but the renewed sense of self is definitely worth the transformation.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

In My Life

My baby girl came home yesterday after three weeks of being with her dad. She shared laughter, love, and good bonding time with him like never before. And when it was time to leave him she said it would be very hard to let him go. I can understand all of this and my heart aches for her.

Princess had not seen Princess 2 for a whole month, and for them that might as well have been eternity. Their reunion last night brought tears to both my eyes and Nurse Betty's. Princess hugged her non-sister as if they had been separated at birth and finally met again. She cried and although felt embarrassed at her reaction, she was elated to be back in Princess 2's company.

I couldn't blame her, for I felt the same way. Princess is like my little side kick. My mini-me. My other half. And being gone from her for three weeks was like having a piece of me missing. I was restless and mopey. Now that she's back I can't help but kiss and hug her every second.

For some reason, I started singing the Beatles song, "In My Life", and thinking of the line "In my life, I've loved you more". Each line of that song holds special meaning for me, and every time I hear it, I think of her. Although I have many people that have passed through my life and brought me memories, and although some remain to this day, none compare to her.

So here's the full song in written lyric form. Feel free to sing along in your head. I'm sure you can hear the piano now.

The Beatles, "In My Life"

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more