Secret holes.

Get your mind out of the gutter!

Ch ch ch check it out!

I got my ears pierced again on Friday. Oh yea. No one knows yet... well, sort of. I told Little Brother because I was excited but he hardly counts. I'm going to wait it out and see who notices. I spent all of Friday with my mom and she didn't notice. Neither did my sister when she stopped by and Butthole didn't notice last night and I even had my hair up and in a pony tail! Turd :P Still... I'm enjoying my sweet little secret.

It was very much a "whim" situation. I woke up Friday morning, I took Spazzpup on a walk, and I went to the tattoo shop to pay Crankie a visit. While my industrial is still a bit sensitive it's healing well and looks good per her report. It turns out she doesn't do stud piercings on earlobes but I decided to go for it. It's a bigger gauge than my other two (16) but I figured it would look a bit different and if anything I can put a regular earring (20 gauge) in and the hole will shrink.

Compared to a cartilage piercing these were a breeze, though they are a bit sore so I'm definitely sleeping on my back -no exceptions- right now. It's all gravy, baby.

I might do more some time but for now I think this will be it.

Hace frio y estoy lejos de casa

In account of my talk of Argentinian traditions (food) I think I'll get a bit into that.
I moved here from Argentina when I was 12. I like it here, I do... but if I was to be totally honest I'd say I wish we had never left. The only thing that keeps me from thinking so is Butthole because I obviously wouldn't have met him if I hadn't moved.
The biggest problem is that I moved here at such a transitional time in my life that I never really got a chance to feel like I belonged. I was starting the troublesome teenage years as it was and the place we moved to well... I don't' know what it's like in the rest of the US but the kids in this town were really not open minded. The first year of school I got picked on A LOT. I spent most of the time crying in the councilor's office. I experienced everything from someone putting gum in my hair, to incriminating notes being passed around in my name (I almost got suspended for that), a girl pushing me and threatening to beat me up, and kids who claimed to be my friends turn on me and tell lies about me. It was rough. By the next year my exterior hardened and I became mean, cold, distant, and harsh with anyone that dared speak with me. I made friends but never close ones.
After that came my parents divorce. I was almost 14 (they told me a few weeks before my birthday, oh fun). As if I hadn't become tough enough this pushed me to become the ultimate bitch. There's no other way to put it. I was rude to everyone and made very few friends. Even the girl I called my best friend I wasn't open with. It was just bad. She moved the next year and I was pretty lost. I made new friends. Everyone who claimed to like my "toughness" eventually tired of my anti-social behavior and dropped me. Who could blame them? Then came ex-boyfriend.
At first everything was great. He actually helped me get rid of some of my mean streak but pointing out that I really wasn't benefiting from it like I thought. Eventually, though, all of HIS psychosis came out in the open and I wasn't so happy. He had so many issues that I could barely deal. He was so manipulative and I had become so co-dependent that I stayed with him for nearly 3 years. He was a jealous, judgemental, control freak and even though at first my social life expanded a bit eventually it stopped. I wasn't allowed to have a social life apart from him. My self-esteem was practically totalled.
Thus far of course none of these things include the added problems with my family. The fallout between my sister and brother, then between my parents and my brother, the divorce, my dad leaving, the wrecked relationship with my mom, the fallout with my sister, moving, my brother's arrest, moving again, etc. Some of these things made me meaner, the meanness led to other disasters such as the fall out with my sister.
Being with Butthole has helped me deal with a lot of my issues and I'm a lot better. I've learned to be a lot nicer. I really feel like I'm becoming a better person every day and I have Butthole to thank for that. Eventually my sister and I patched things up (because she's a bigger person than I am) and she's my best friend again. She helps me a lot too.
How does all of this relate to Argentina? I guess it doesn't. Not really. I'm sure obstacles would have been encountered there, too, because such is life. It makes me sad because all of these problems over the years have left me with scarce positive memories of the past 8 years. That's basically all of teenage-hood. I have few friends and given my present situation and the memories that people have of me I have few chances to make new friends. My life is at a stand-still.
I've gotten in touch with some of my childhood friends from Argentina and looking at pictures makes me nostalgic. Groups of girls I went to school with from the age of 5 to the age of 12 are still hanging out together. People here have friends they can say they've known since childhood. I can't. I can't relate to any stories from childhood and because of how closed off I was in high school I don't have any stories from then either. I've never managed to quite fit in here. I feel like if I went back I wouldn't fit in there either. Argentina still feels like home from here but I don't know that it would be if I went back.
I get really down about it sometimes. I really wish I had never left. I also wish I could go back and change mostly everything about the past 8 years if I couldn't change having moved here.

Better watch it.

I would like to start out by asking you to watch these two videos.
*CHICK POP MUSIC ALERT*





Alright. That being said I can now start my post. I will admit that as far as radio music goes I find both of the above songs tolerable. Tolerable in that I'm-in-the-car-we've-been-driving-for-six-hours-lets-dance-like-no body's-watching way. You know... that crap you'd never pay to listen to but it's fun when you are in your underwear baking brownies and need something to shake your butt to like a 13 year old girl. Errr... not that I've ever done that.
I would like point out the parallels both in the songs and the videos. Let's start with the videos:
Cheesy dance routine? Check.
Bad wigs? Check.
Outdated glasses? Check.
Slutty chicks? Check.
Pretty boys? Check.
Now the songs:
Some girl deems her crush's girlfriend unworthy of such a great catch and thinks the guy should open his eyes and see his girlfriend for the shrew that she is and see her (the singer) for her great potential to be the best girlfriend ever. Cue eye roll.
Let me start out by saying that if some skank was running around telling my boyfriend that he should dump me girlfrien' would get beat down so fast she wouldn't even have time to hang on to her weave. We are talking some serious "Giiiiiirrrrrllll hold mah earrings while I body slam this hoe" action. Seriously, ladies? How disrespectful. If you want the guy and he's already taken you either move on to the next fish or you sit your happy ass down and wait your sweet turn. Besides, anyone with an ounce of self-respect would tell you to get lost in your douchebaggery and play catch with a cactus. Heck, the time Pansy told me I should "find another guy" I, myself, had half a mind to body slam him. Who says stuff like that? Honestly...
Speaking of self-respect let's take a look at these gallant gentlemen. Taylor's crush is some push over little sissy who doesn't have enough balls to keep his girlfriend from flirting with other guys in front on him. Really, Taylor? That's the kind of guy you want? You want a guy you can't have not because he doesn't notice you, but because he's so whipped he can't even break up with his monster of a girlfriend? Damn, girl, I'm not saying you should find yourself a total a-hole of a guy but get a guy with some back-bone, no? I guess at least he's not cheating on HER which brings us to Avril's Prince Charming.
Um, hello? Am I the only one that noticed that this guy is emotionally cheating on his "so whatever" girlfriend? Plus Avril knows it and doesn't care which makes HER a skank, too! "I can see the way, I see the way you look at me And even when you look away I know you think of me"? Seriously? Like... really, really? Who wants a guy like that? You think that once you get him he won't start lusting after the next poofy haired, short-skirted, cleavage-displaying floozy that walks by? Dream on, girlfriend, it's not happening. Find a guy who isn't a complete jackass.
You want a good frustrated heart pining after the unreachable song? Here:

The Black Kids' cover of Sophie B. Hawkin's song. Brilliant. Just sayin'...
Oh and if you want to hear more greatness check out The Eels' cover of it. E is the man, as always.

Good girlfriend. He's a turd.

Butthole won't be home for Thanksgiving. He's, as usual, going out of state to spend time with his family. He feebly attempted to put his foot down and come see me before they left but the higher ups said no. Meanies. Another week without Butthole.
Last weekend he couldn't come either because of a prior commitment. The third Saturday of every month he has community service to attend to for one of the groups he's a member of. It's always been like that so we try to work around it. Last month I went up to College City. This month I couldn't manage it. I was really sad I wouldn't see him until he called me Friday. On Friday I was glad I couldn't see him because I wanted to dismember him.
He called me all excited saying "DUDE! My community service was cancelled for the year!" Basically that means "Hey, remember that thing that is the one only reason why I can't see you tonight? Well that thing is cancelled!" My obvious reaction was an excited and hopeful "Does that mean you are coming over tonight!?!?"
..."no"
CRASH! RUMBLE! TEAR! RIP! *other noise* That's the sound of my hopes being shattered into a gazillion painful pieces.
"Say what, now?"
"Well I have a lot of study and I have some work to do at the lab, and I have some homework to do plus all these pages to read. It's probably better if I say here."
..."SO WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU GET SO DAMN EXCITED THAT YOUR COMMUNITY SERVICE WAS CANCELLED? WHAT DO I CARE?"
Ugh. I was so angry. Mostly I was disappointed, but still. What kind of a-hole does that to someone? He was quite sheepish and apologized but that did not stop me from going into a half hour rant of all the things I'd like to do to him which included but were not limited to: a punch in the crotch/face, getting thrown in the river, burying him alive, or my reaching into his body and removing his very soul. What a nincompoop! My poor little heart was shattered :(
He felt sorry and he offered to come down anyway and leave the next day so he could take care of his lab stuff. As much as it pained me to do it and to say it again now I said no. It really wasn't the responsible thing to do. If he had started out by telling me that he couldn't come it would have been ok but nooooooo he had to get my hopes up first.
I wanted to say yes so bad. I wanted to tell him to forget about school and come see me RIGHT.NOW. but I couldn't do that. What kind of girlfriend, nay, what kind of person would I be if I put my own personal feelings before his very future. Ugh. I'm such a good girlfriend :( Damn me.
I intend to make the most of next weekend because that's the last time I'm gonna see him for the rest of the year :( :( :( He's gonna help me put up my Christmas tree. I'm afraid he still won't have much free time though because it'll be the weekend before the last week of school so he'll probably need to study. Ugh.
Hopefully his parents won't be too tough on us and lets us hang out even if he needs to study. I can read quietly while he studies, I promise!

And the winner is... (plus Argentinian tradition)

This weekend my baking extravaganza took place. I spent all weekend either at the grocery store or cooking/baking. I spent most of Saturday hanging out with mom which was fun. We cleaned out her garage some and looked through some boxes of Christmas decorations. I made out like a bandit with a bunch of lights and I'm excited about it. I have decided that I'm going all out for my tree this year... more on that some other time.
On to the cooking! I went to the grocery store and bought everything I needed for baking for pretty much the rest of the year so that I don't realize I'm missing something mid-recipe. I made ñoquis and salsa blanca (gnocchi and bechamel sauce, respectively) from scratch all by myself for the first time. I made them both right which was very exciting! Unfortunately I started making them too late (6PM) and mom and I didn't eat dinner til midnight (ooops...) but it was ok because they turned out great! Butthole was super jealous because ever since I introduced him to ñoquis at the Argentinian restaurant in College City he's fallen in love with them. Next time I'm going to start the prep earlier but I'm definitely going to do it again. They are really an Italian dish but they are a huge Argentinian tradition. I am quite eager to get more in touch with tradition even if I'm doing it on my own (neither one of my parents stuck to tradition at all).
For baked goods I made blondies, mint brownies, and peppermint brownies. The blondies were good but they turned out way too dry though I'm not sure if it was the recipe or if I screwed up. I'm definitely going to try them again. The mint brownies turned out be brownies with mint frosting and chocolate coating. The brownie was yucky and way too sweet in my opinion. Also, it was a very cakey brownie. Some testers liked it but regardless I'm not making them again. The frosting was too sweet but I might try it again with some slight changes. The peppermint brownies were BOMB. I liked them so much that I copied the recipe and took out the peppermint extract and from now on I will keep it was my permanent brownie recipe. No more box brownies!* They were topped with chocolate mint squares melted and crushed candy cane. Next time I'm going to skip the candy cane.
It still seems like the consensus was that I should make the Fudgy Fantasy bars for Thanksgiving. I'm still glad I tried the brownies because now I know of one more thing I'm adding to my gift baskets.
I also talked to my mom and I think we are also going to make tomates rellenos for dinner. Tomates rellenos is another Argentinian (delicious) staple. It's hollowed out tomatoes filled with a tuna/rice filling. They are way yummy. Another way for me to get in touch with my roots. I guess I figure connecting to my country of origin through food is the easiest at a distance. I've also looked up a recipe for lengua a la vinagreta (vinaigrette tongue). It's pretty simple but, again, time consuming. Butthole said eating cow tongue sounds gross but it's actually really good. I totally loved it as a kid.
About my tree... not all that interesting. It used to be that I liked a plain tree with uniform round bulbs in a few solid colors but I've decided that I want a more eclectic tree this year. I guess I'll expand on the subject once I put the tree up. I'll come bearing pictures.
All in all it was a great weekend even though I didn't get to see Butthole. I had a good time with my mom and I had fun baking and cooking.

*My box brownies are awesome but I never had the guts to try them from scratch. Well, I did it! I can do it. I am effing awesome. True story.

Why couldn't I get the awesome organization skills instead?

Last week I mentioned my awesome new sheets. What I failed to mention is that since I changed sheets I've been crazy itchy, particularly on my legs. I don't know what the deal is because the sheets are just cotton sheets and well... all my clothes are made of cotton, aren't they? So I've been thinking of all the different factors: weather (dryness + wind + cold= dry skin), I'm not wearing shorts as frequently because of the cold so maybe friction?, oh and I changed laundry detergent... or I thought I did.
Here comes a confession of my embarrassing idiocy:
I do laundry once a week. Living alone means it takes me 6 months or even longer to go through a whole bottle of laundry soap. I was getting low but I had another bottle up on my shelf (I tend to have extras of everything so I never run out in the middle of whatever I'm doing). I finished the one bottle and grabbed the new one. It was a smaller bottle which I thought was odd since I always buy the biggest one I can get. I noticed it had a "green," as in Eco-friendly, sticker so I figured it must have been the only size bottle they had. I did my laundry and saw the detergent was way runnier than the usual. I didn't think more of it until I talked to my mom.
In discussing "green" products she mentioned she had bought a new dish soap that was environmentally friendly but that she didn't like it. She said it had a weird consistency and she had to use way more than with the regular stuff. She asked me about my new detergent since she'd like to use a "green" laundry soap as well. I mentioned my qualms regarding my new detergent and she asked the brand. "Shout." "Like the stain remover?" "Yeah but it's laundry soap so I guess now they also make that."
The next day I got to thinking about it so I examined the bottle. The first word that jumped at me was "refill." Hmmm... How can I have laundry soap REFILL? Shout... stain remover... refill... for the squirt bottle... DING DING DING! I washed my clothes with stain remover not detergent... which probably left a residue on my fabrics. Swell.
This just goes to show how long it takes me to go through these items that I don't even know what I have on my shelves anymore. Regardless, I felt like an idiot.
I called my mom to tell her findings and she laughed an understanding laugh. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." "What?" :S It turns out after I left her house the day before she decided to check the label of the dish soap. In close inspection she found that she hadn't been using dish soap but dishWASHER soap. Doy!
Seriously, no joke. This was some sitcom business. Mother and daughter. I told her she had been greedy with the good genes and traits. She shared all of her neurotic/clumsy/insomniac/clueless ones but kept the useful ones. Damn her.
At least I didn't feel as alone in my idiocy.
I rewashed my sheets btw.

Unexcitement and uneventfulness.

Yesterday I became overwhelmingly aware of how depressing the holidays have become. Well that's not entirely true because I still love them. It's just that the holidays used to be a big family event for me and now they are not. Especially this year... and especially since Butthole will be gone through most of December and early January. Plus I'm feeling down because I won't see him for another 2 weeks.. and then I'll see him twice more and he'll be gone. Uggghhhh...
What is exciting is that I bought new sheets and pillows last weekend. They are lovely deep purple soft cotton sheets. Ideally I wanted some warm flannel sheets but it didn't work out. Still, I'm satisfied. Plus I got them at a huge discount. I also go super awesome fluffy pillows for a great price too. And obviously, like the pathetic person I am, I am thoroughly sad that it'll be two weeks before I can show them to Butthole. What.A.Loser.
My life is quite meaningless it seems. Blah.

Dessertmania!!!

Oh the Holidays... my favorite time of the year. Realistically speaking, anything before Christmas means very little to me. I didn't grow up celebrating Halloween and Thanksgiving is an American holiday which means nothing to me. I do love Christmas, though. I am such a sap for a Christmas tree and lights. The food, the presents (shopping, giving, and receiving!), the music, the atmosphere: I love it all!
Regardless of meaning we have adopted TG as a way for the family to get together and be fat. Don't ever expect to have anything traditional at my house but turkey. There is no stuffing, no cranberry sauce, no yams, and no pumpkin pie. That isn't to say we don't make a ton of delicious stuff. My mom makes turkey and her delicious Salsa de Champignon (mushroom gravy), oven potatoes, apple pie (both hers and my grandma's neither of which is anything like what you know apple pie to be), green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and pure amarillo (which is mashed sweet potatoes, I think). There's always a bunch more.
As the non-sides I'm making deviled eggs and my mom will make paté. I'm also in charge of the main dessert. Oh yes, let the fun begin.
I love, love, love, love to bake. And I'm damn good at it. :P Every year I bake a bunch of stuff and give them as presents to family and friends. I try to make something new every year which means I bake A LOT. I've gotta make sure everything is good before I give it out so I test out a lot of stuff.
Last weekend I made Fudgy Fantasy Bars. Four delicious chocolaty layers: Doughy chocolate cookie with nuts and coconut, chocolate ganache, moussey chocolate cream cheese, and more chocolate ganache. Freaking heavenly. That's a contender for TG dessert. I'm also considering chocolate cake layered with chocolate ganache topped with chocolate whipped cream. Or pie... chocolate pie... French Silk pie... ... ...
Oh sorry! I got lost in my delicious thoughts. Moving on!
This weekend I'm going to be trying out a couple of others: Peppermint/mint brownies, blondies with chocolate chips, and I'm not sure what else. I have a lot of recipes to look through.
For holiday gifts I'm going to venturing out into the cupcake world. I've already decided I will master the Peanut Butter Surprise cupcakes for sure. I'm going to be trying my luck with caramel frosting and REAL DEAL dulce de leche (brought to you from Argentina, with love). To avoid getting fat I'll be recruiting taste testers (i.e. family, friends, and coworkers).
In case you didn't pick up on it I have a sweet spot for chocolate. If it gets to be too much I'll be looking into some fruity desserts but I don't foresee that happening. I would love to find a good recipe for some strawberry filling, though. The jelly kind not the creamy kind.
I will report my findings next week. I think I ought to put together a cookbook already. I'm always printing recipes and throwing them all in a shelf. They are all crumpled up and stained with food. Julia, the organizer. HA.
*note to self: Step it up at the gym or you'll regret it later.

I can't wait til you and your boyfriend break up.

I have actually been having some deep thoughts but seeing as the past two posts have been rather depressing I'm going with something a bit more light-hearted.
As I've made it clear one of the few places where I interact with human beings on a casual basis is the gym. I don't go to socialize but I do make light conversation when people engage me. I've met a few interesting people at the gym. There's Happy, who confided in me about the time his two older kids stuck his baby in the drier (seriously), and Dancing Mexican who always cracks me up when I look up because he's, well, dancing. There's the few charismatic old ladies, the out-of-shape who are trying to get in shape and then there's the guys who hit on me. Ha.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I hate being that girl who thinks she's so cool and so hot and that all the guys hit on her. It's not like it happens often and I am not that girl, but I am A girl and guys hit on girls so from time to time I'm able to tell the story about the way-too-forward guy who tried to strike up a conversation. When I tell the story I always feel like I sound like one of those girls.
The guys aren't all pigs, they aren't all obscenely forward, but no matter what, I hate getting hit on ESPECIALLY since I have a boyfriend. Ugh... it's so awkward. I'm always nice to them. I have no reason to be rude, but I don't like to assume that they want to get in my pants so I don't introduce myself as "Julia and I have a boyfriend." However, since I don't do that right off the bat, eventually I'm forced to say it when they allude to their interest in me. If I can bring it casually into the conversation I will: "What did you do this weekend?" "I hung out with my boyfriend." But if the chance doesn't come up then I find myself awkwardly staring at the floor when they say "So... what are you doing this weekend?" Or some such thing.
The other problem is that I never know whether to tell Butthole or not. If I tell him then I feel like he thinks I'm trying to make him jealous. If I don't tell him then I feel like I'm being dishonest which is unreasonable as I'm not doing anything wrong. I do tell him about the guys I feel are inappropriate or make me uncomfortable... like Pansy.
Ugh... Pansy. I finally got him off my back just recently. He engaged me in conversation one day a few months ago. Everything was ok at first. We had some common ground since we are both foreign. We made jokes about our experiences interacting with Americans and learning English when we first moved out here. It was all pretty innocent... then one day he told me how beautiful he thought I was. Umm... ok... that's fine. It's just a compliment: I smiled, I said thanks, and I moved on. That should have been the end of that since he already knew I had a boyfriend but then it didn't stop. Suddenly he was calling me beautiful, not like a one time compliment thing but as a nickname. That made me uncomfortable. I had already made it clear that we could be friends and nothing else. He claimed to be ok with it but umm... sorry, none of my friends, guys or girls, refer to me as "Beautiful." You know who on occasion calls me that? MY BOYFRIEND, that's who. Because that's the kind of nickname a boyfriend gives. I let it go at first and just sort of threw the "friend" word around so he'd get the message. Then one day I was talking about Butthole and the fact that I missed him during the week and he made some comment about how I should find a boyfriend in town. Umm... how about no? Sorry, I don't want A boyfriend I want Butthole. He then said "Well, if you are ever single let me know." Yeah, as if. "Don't hold your breath," I told him. I thought I was clear enough but he didn't get the memo. You see, when we first started talking and he seemed normal we exchanged phone numbers, after all I'm always open to make new FRIENDS. He started calling randomly just to talk (much like a boyfriend does), he'd text me good morning and good night and check up on me through out the day. I'm sorry, who are you again? He kept calling me "beautiful" and asking me to hang out at odd hours (No, dude, I'm not inviting you to hang out at my house at 9 o clock at night!) Eventually I told him that I found his behavior inappropriate and I didn't think being "friends" would work for me. Just because he said he wanted to be friends didn't mean that that's what his behavior reflected and I wasn't comfortable with talking to him. He backed off for a while but eventually started talking to me. A simple bout of ignoring his calls and texts did most of the trick but what I think really did it was when he saw me check my phone, roll my eyes, and ignore his text. Oh yeah, because the weirdo would text me while I was at the gym and watch my reaction or something, how creepy is that? Oh, and I call him Pansy because the little whiner would start most conversations with "are you mad at me?" UGH! "No, dude, I'm not mad at you, but since you take my friendliness as some sort of creepy sign that I want to marry you and have your babies I have to give you the cold shoulder and keep my answers short and un-engaging!" I always told Butthole about Pansy. I know he didn't like hearing about it but not telling him about it made me uncomfortable.
The other guy is Creepy. He isn't actually creepy like Pansy. Creepy behaves like a creep but he does it intentionally and for fun, unlike Pansy who was creepy by nature and was so stupid he didn't realize it. Creepy is fairly innocent and creepily forward. He's the one that delivered the title line. He thinks I'm hott and point blank asked me if I was single. When I said no he gave me the dramatic broken-hearted speech. He is so blatantly creepy that I know he's just joking. "Oh man, you are so cool, your boyfriend is one lucky guy" "Nope, I'm the lucky one ;)" And he does uber creepy things like pretend to sniff me when I'm all sweaty on the treadmill. He's simply too creepy to be taken seriously. I can handle that. As long as my relationship isn't disrespected or insulted hit on me all you want but I'm still going to tell you to dream on. Which, by the way, Creepy will do as he so creepily told me. "A guy can dream" he said. Meh... he's better off asking Santa for a pony or world peace but whatever... if his creepy fantasy makes him happy who am I to deny his delusion? Which brings me to a realization. It's not the getting hit on that's awkward, is the having to tell them to back off that makes me uncomfortable. As long as the guy backs off then it's fine.
One more. Now this one (which kind of prompted this post) I'm not sure sounds as a "hit on" story as I'm not sure he was hitting on me. I haven't interacted with him enough to give him a name but let's go with... Droopy. I was working out my thighs. You know, on this awkward-ass machine:

OF COURSE. Pretty much the most uncomfortable time to talk to someone. "Hi I'm Julia, and that's my crotch!" I digress... So he came up to me and asked if I spoke Spanish (I think by now they all know I do but they all still ask). He told me that he couldn't stop admiring my beauty and that I'm a very beautiful woman. Lol. I just sort of sat there with my legs basically on stir-ups giving him an uncomfortable smile and saying thanks. The funniest part is that I'm currently nursing the most heinous pimple on my chin right now, plus yesterday I didn't feel like shaving my arm pits (TMI, I guess) so I wore a t-shirt. Oh, and you know that t-shirt in the back of your closet that's all stretched out? Don't deny it's there. You know the one. It has massive pit stains that basically thinned the fabric to partial non-existence? That's the one. Yeah, I was wearing that t-shirt. Ha. Bless his heart.
I won't deny the shallow part of me blushed a bit and felt flattered but still... it was so funny. Like I said, not all guys are creeps. I'm sure Droopy meant nothing other than "hey I think you're pretty" kind of like an old person says it but you know... he's not an old guy so it comes off different.
I hate telling these stories because I don't like people to think that I have a big head over it. In all reality you've gotta admit: they are good stories! I like to share because of the humor but it still seems so cocky of me.
I think it bears repetition, though: this does NOT happen often. Seriously. Take into consideration that I'm telling all of my "I got hit on" stories from the whole year so it's really not a daily thing. It isn't even a monthly thing. I stand by "they are good stories".
Guys can be very funny.

Sometimes it's not about understanding.

UGH! AH! DAMN IT! ARGH! Yes... it came up... the problem with my mom came up in conversation with Butthole. I knew better but I was hanging out with my little brother and I wanted to know how he felt. Unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough to wait til we were alone so I ended up proving what I already knew would happen.
It is so damn frustrating when I talk to him about my family problems. He can be such a disrespectful ass! It's my fault for bringing it up. I know he doesn't understand, but I still wish he could acknowledge the difference in our family lives and let them go. Why does he have to state he doesn't understand? I already know! Why does he have to give me that infuriating "you are overreacting" tone? I AM NOT OVERREACTING, ASSHOLE! I know he doesn't understand. I know he doesn't know what it's like. I know his family is nothing like mine. Why the hell can't he accept that? It hurts so bad that he can't respect that.
My family problems hurt me and the fact that he cracks jokes when I'm talking about them makes me sad and angry. I don't need him to understand what it's like to deal with the things I deal with. I just need him to realize that, although he doesn't understand, my feelings are valid.

Bad daughter (but I don't care)

Last night my mom "invited" me to have dinner at her house and hang out with her. Initially she "invited" me on Tuesday but she said it'd be too late by the time I'd be free. You see, I have a routine: Work, gym, walk Spazzpup, shower, dinner. I don't interrupt that routine anymore. The only person worth disrupting my routine is Butthole. Mostly because he's the only person respectful of my time. So, no problem that she didn't want to do it because it was late, I can understand that. I said that we could do it on Wednesday since I get off early and she gave me a vague answer of "well... If I don't make other plans..." See why I don't alter my time for her? She didn't really want to make plans with me if she had something better to do. I am her daughter. Nothing should be better than hanging out with her kid after not seeing her for weeks.
I'll admit I have a rough relationship with my mother. Regardless of how much we fight I still love her and like to spend time with her. I have long ago learned that as long as I keep it superficial we get along well. I don't go to her with my real problems because I no longer care for her opinion but it's still fun to hang out with her and cover the mundane topics. I haven't really gotten a chance to do that in weeks (or months?) since she's been hanging out with her bed buddy (not friend, not boyfriend? It horrifies Butthole but hey...).
Last night I was supposed to take care of my usual routine but since I got off early my routine was over by 7 as opposed to 9 which left ample time to hang out. Mind you, I normally use this time to clean my house which counts as part of my weekly routine but I thought I'd rearrange so we could spend time together. At any rate, she was supposed to pick me up when I called her. Before I got to do that she called asking if it was ok if Bed Buddy joined us for dinner. Well, it wasn't ok. I should have just cancelled but I thought I'd go ahead and try to be flexible.
When I called her to pick me up she said, after MUCH discussion with Bed Buddy while I was on the phone, that she'd be over in 10. She took 20 minutess. It may seem petty but after 20 years of dealing with her lack of punctuality 10 minutes really grates the nerves. Plus I must mention the reason she took longer was because she was busy with Bed Buddy. I should also mention that a few weeks ago she asked me to help her dye her hair. When I asked her for an extra 15 minutes to eat some dinner after the gym she freaked out and screamed at me about how she's willing to drop everything for everyone and no one is ever willing to do anything for her. I'll let you make of that what you will.
Now the dinner I was suppose to enjoy with her and my little brother was to be intruded by Bed Buddy. That meant that there certainly wouldn't be any sitting around on the couch while I painted my toe nails and we chit chatted like we used to. Not only that, but dinner had to be altered because of him, plus we ended up waiting on him with her making cute little jokes about "THE COOK IS GETTING MAD AND IT'S NOT ME" yeah... well go fuck yourself... the cook is mad because you are being a selfish bitch.
I feel like I may be being a little petty... but I'm not. My mom is selfish. Last week I had to point out to her that maybe the reason Little Brother wasn't so happy was because she decided they would move without talking to him. Or that she has brought Bed Buddy into his life expecting him to be totally ok with it and not so much as a word to him. What kind of mother overlooks something like that?
Now, I am happy for her and her (non?)relationship with Bed Buddy. I think it's great that she's socializing and getting out of the house and being happy. But I am not happy that she seems to have resigned her duties as a mother. Mind you, it's not like she ever performed them very dutifully but now she's really thrown them out the window.
She invited him to Thanksgiving dinner and I definitely don't mind. I expected it and thought it was a great idea. What I'm not happy about is the fact that in some world he thought it appropriate to invite STRANGERS to OUR family dinner. This is the first Thanksgiving for which he'll join us and he seems to think it's ok that he invited someone else. Not only do I find that offensive on his part but I am tremendously pissed off that my mom hasn't shown him where his place is. He is her friend, for lack of a better word, and that's great. She has a good relationship with him and, really, that's great but he is still a stranger to my brother and me. He is no one to us and neither Little Brother nor I have welcomed him into the family so I think there is some intense slowing down he needs to do.
This whole thing is getting to me. I know my crappy relationship with her bugs me but I didn't realize how much.
Last night was basically a disaster. This morning she e-mailed me with some crap about "Where you mad Bed Buddy was there? What was your opinion of last night?" I told her I had no opinion which is quite obviously a lie. The truth is I have no inclination of having this conversation with her. Why? Because it won't change anything. She'll pout, she'll cry, she'll try to make me feel bad and nothing will change. Why go through that?
My mom never wanted to be a mother. I am not ok with that but I have learned to live with it. I am never going to say this to her because a. She'll deny it and b. I have nothing to gain. I've said it before that Butthole's mom loves him more than my mom loves me. I think the day I realized that was when I came to terms with it. She never wanted us and that's why it's always been so hard for her to be a good mom. It's the reason why her hatred of my dad was more powerful than her love for her kids.
It's really sad to realize neither of your parents really want you. I think my dad loved us before he left... he was a good dad when he was around... at least that's what I remember. He did leave, though, and I can only believe that he didn't do that out of love for us. If he DID love us once that love was fleeting... and it left with ease. It was disposable just like his kids.
My mom... she likes being a martyr, she always has, so she stayed. She made such a huge sacrifice for us. She tells herself she made those sacrifices out of love, but that's not true. She sacrificed so she could say she did. She loves the whole "Woe is me, look at all I've done for you."
I remember one time I had a talk with Butthole's sister about abortion. She is violently pro-life. She was so horrified at my being pro-choice. She was nearly in tears which I did feel bad about, but frankly I can't help it. I told her that I'd rather someone get an abortion than bring an unwanted child into the world. At that time I didn't realize I, myself, was unwanted. I knew it, but not consciously.
Am I saying I wish I hadn't been born? Yes and no. No, because I am not going to go kill myself. I am here, I enjoy my life and, though this is a large and painful obstacle, I will overcome it and make something better because of it. On the other hand, I am saying yes because if I had never been born then I wouldn't have to live with this weight on my head. I wouldn't be living, period. It may seem dramatic to someone who doesn't know what it's like to be unwanted and maybe it is. But that's how it feels.
I know my mom loves me. I am not saying she doesn't. But I think she loves more out of duty than true feelings. I think she'd be happier without us. I think we are more of a burden in her life than a blessing.
This all really sucks. And it sucks more because I have no one to talk to about it.

Wife AND mother?

Remember the bit about my fear of marriage? I learned something yesterday. I came across the question "did you get married to be a wife or to be a mother?" Obviously I didn't become either because I'm not married, but it did lead me to think of a few things. I still don't have any conclusive thoughts but I did learn a few things about my feelings.
I want to be a wife. Not today. God, no, not today. Not tomorrow, either. Maybe in a few years. I still believe that I need to know where I stand in life before I ask someone to join me on a potentially never ending quest to learn the answer. In the end, though, I like the idea of marriage. The idea of having someone to spend the rest of my life with who loves me and who I can love is a pleasant idea, a comforting idea.
Being a wife sounds good... being a mother... kind of different. On the other hand I learned that being a mother and being a wife aren't the same thing. Once they are combined, sure, they go hand in hand, but they don't have to be combined. You can choose to be one and not the other. Heck, nowadays you can choose to be either one all on it's own. I wouldn't want to be a mother without being a wife, but I can't object to being a wife without being a mom.
I also realized that I can't think of too many guys who want to be husbands. I'm sure guys want a wife. My pathetic ex boyfriend was like that. He wanted someone to take care of him, not someone to take care of. Marriage is a team sport (ha! CHEESE!) and it takes two people who are on the same side. So I guess now I know I need to find a guy who wants to be a husband as much as I want to be a wife.
I guess if I had a guy like that it wouldn't be so scary to become a mother, provided he wanted to be a father. There's another difference. There's the guys who want kids to have little play things to carry on their DNA and then there's guys who want to be fathers.
I sure as heck hope that guy is out there. Regardless of that I feel really comforted by having learned this. I never thought of mom and wife being two separate entities. It used to make me think that marriage was out of the question for me, but it's not. Now at least I know what I'm looking for. Well, not yet, but eventually. I know that when the time comes the guy I'll be looking for will be someone who feels about marriage as I do. I won't look for a guy who is ok with me being his wife but a guy actually wants to be my husband.
I thought it was all up to me, but it's not. There's two parts to a marriage and now I know both parts don't stand on my shoulders.

Bad sister.

I don't like children. I do not like them for an un-maternal woman I am. Not in a box. Not with a fox. Not in a house. Not with a mouse. I do not like them here or there. I do not like them anywhere. I wouldn't like them if they were mine, and I definitely don't like them if they are yours. I LOVE my nephews and my niece. Seriously LOVE them with all my heart. This, however, does not mean I am eager to be around them or that I have the patience for them. Sure, I'll take them to the park but please don't ask me to indulge your little darling in a game of ANYTHING when I am confined inside. Actually, the park is probably the only place where I don't mind them.
On Saturday my sister asked me to babysit so she could go to work. Sigh... here starts the upcoming saga of asking me to baby sit every other week now that she's going back to work. Don't get me wrong I love my sister and I don't mind doing stuff for her. But baby sitting? That's a bit different. I don't like baby sitting and frankly every time she asks me to I become a bitter and resentful bitch.
On Saturday Butthole and I were already on limited time to hang out and that time was decreased considerable when I got stuck at her house for 5 hours. It ruined my day. Yes, I am that dramatic. It ruined my morning because my sister (as usual) didn't have the courtesy to give me an accurate time so even though the last time we spoke she said 10:30 AM she didn't pick me up til 1. I woke up early for nothing. Also I had my day planned around being done by 1. Of course now this meant my plans were to change.
I HATE CHANGING MY PLANS. Just thinking about it right now makes me queasy and infuriated. So my walk with my dog got cut short, I was forced to shove my lunch down my throat in a hurry and it caused my hang-out with Butthole time to be pushed back.
I don't want kids for a reason. That is to say I don't want to be around them and I don't want to be tied down by them. Funny how I haven't been able to avoid that since I was 14. I spent my whole freshman year of high school hauling ass home to get there on time to baby sit til 10 o'clock at night. I spent the following summer waking up at 6:00 in the morning watching Finding Nemo until I wanted to blow my brains out. It's actually pretty unfunny. It sucks.
It makes me resentful and it makes me feel guilty because I feel resentful.
I also feel guilty because I know I am judgemental towards my sister, though I would never tell her. I feel like telling her how I shouldn't be punished because I was able to avoid making the same mistakes as her. I feel like telling her that I'm not the idiot who got pregnant at 18 so I shouldn't have to pick up the slack for her irresponsibility.
I am a terrible sister. She would never feel this way about me. She would blindly do me the favors without a second thought. She wouldn't dream of judging my life. You know how else I'm a terrible person? Because for every one of these thoughts I think "Yeah... but I'd never give her the chance. I hardly ask for favors and I don't make big enough mistakes for her to judge."
So I'm a bad sister and an arrogant piece of crap.
I'm judgemental of her life choices. I don't mind baby sitting for her every once in a while so that her and her husband can get away. ALL parents need that. But I find myself hating the fact that I have to baby sit because she refuses to attempt a relationship with my mom. I have to baby sit because her husband behaves like unhelpful ass. I have to baby sit because her in-laws are a bunch of selfish pricks who can't put down the cigarette to protect the kids' health. I have to pick up the slack for everyone because of HER choices. She is the one that had kids. She is the one who married an asshole. She's the one who married an asshole with asshole relatives. And as difficult as my mom is SHE is the one that refuses to talk to my mom forcing me to live on a tight rope waiting for my mom to blow a gasket AND picking up the Grandma slack.
So yeah. It makes me angry and I resent her for it. A sister shouldn't do that. I am a bad sister.

When did I stop being a girl?

Yesterday at the gym someone said something funny. It wasn't funny "ha-ha" it was more of a "it gave me a funny feeling" sort of funny. I wanted to use the ab machine thingy when another guy stepped up to it. We did the required dance of "Oh shucks, I needed that. It's ok, I'll wait" "Oh, you sure? You can go ahead" "Oh no no no, it's quite alright, you go ahead." Anyway, I let the guy go ahead of me.
When he was done he wiped it down while I waited. I made a comment about it and he said something like "Well I usually don't unless someone is following me right away. Especially since you're a woman I needed to look good." On the one hand his honesty made me laugh, on the other I laughed to myself and thought "Ha, he called me a woman."
It's weird. Even though I'm 20 years old, live on my own, work and pay my own bills it still feels funny to think of myself as a woman and not a girl. When I think of a woman I think of a grown up. As independent as I may be it's still funny to think of myself as an adult. The guy must have been in his late 20s so it's easy to see why he'd think of myself as a woman and not a girl. I mean, it's not like he's an old man compared to me. It's still strange to hear someone referring to me like that, though.
Not to get all Britney Spears on the subject (after all, who didn't hate that song?) but if I don't think of myself as a woman and I'm definitely not a girl anymore then what the hell am I?
Earlier this week another guy at the gym made another comment to that effect. Something about me looking like a "real woman" (Boy, that was awkward when I told him I have a boyfriend). It was supposed to be some sort of pick me up after another chick who looked like she was 16 but was almost 30 said I looked like I could be her age. I said I didn't take it as a compliment to be told I look older than I really am and the guy said it's better to look like a real woman than a child. Meh... I think it has something to go with my refusal (i.e. fear) to grow up. I've never been in a rush to grow up so maybe that's why it's not easy for me to identify myself with the word "woman." It's not a gender thing. In that respect (gender) I am a WOMAN. But in the girl/woman definition based on age and maturity well, I'm still quite a child. Weird...

Como perro con dos colas.

Another weight post. Oh fun. Actually, that's not sarcasm!
Last night my mom brought over to my place my old homecoming/prom dresses that she didn't want to keep in her house anymore. I was putting them away (not sure why, I don't need them) and I decided to try on a couple of them. Partly because being out of high school I never get to get all dressied up anymore and partly because I wanted to see how much my body had changed.
I went with my two favorites: Homecoming Senior and Sophomore year.
I'll say it: Senior year I was a little chunker. For stupid reasons I gained a lot of weight and spilled out of a lot of my clothes. It was pretty sick. Still, the dress I bought that year was killer, even on my ever-expanding ass. It was a cute little blue number with a sweetheart neckline, halter straps, a-line skirt, with black tulle underneath. The friend I went shopping with forced me to try it on and thank goodness she did because the darn thing fit like a glove. It looked really great. Really, really.
It has been 3 years since I wore that dress, though, and I have busted my butt (especially as of the last year) to lose the weight I put on that year. Anyway, point being the dress fit. The dress fit loosely. It was at least one size too big. Oh yea. Fatty's got it going on.
Then I moved on to the other dress the one from Sophomore year. That was my black and pink phase. Black dress with lots of pink ribbon. I wore black and pink Chucks, much to my mother's horror. Anyway... this one was the big one. That is to say, it was the small one. I was 15 last time I wore that dress. That's 5 years and my body has changed a lot and not just weight gain/loss either. The last time I tried to fit into this dress I couldn't even zip it up (did I mention I was FAT?). I didn't have much hope but then I put it on. And the zipper went up, up, up, ALL THE WAY UP!! It fit! It fit perfectly! Seriously, I could have dug out my Chucks and gone out in public! It made me very happy.
I intend to keep it up. No necessarily the weight loss (though yesterday I did get a new work out and the trainer said I could afford to lose 5-10 lbs to be at an "athletic" weight) but definitely the fitness. I am going to work hard to not gain any more weight. These are the golden years and I know in a few years I won't be able to lose weight like I can now so I'm going to stay fit and healthy. :) Ha. We'll see how that works out with the holidays coming up.

Distance.

Why don't Butthole's parents like me?
1. I'm not Christian
2. I've lived with a guy before marriage
3. I curse
4. My parents are divorced
How does this affect my relationship with Butthole? He says it doesn't. One and three don't affect anything because he's right there with me. Two is iffy because I know he'd prefer it if it had never happened but I feel the same way so we're both sort of there. The divorce thing... well, I know he doesn't judge me for it, but it does create a bridge in understanding between our different situations.
On top of my parents being divorced I have a rocky relationship with my mother and my dad is out of the picture. Don't get me wrong: I love my mother. But more often than not we argue and I'm venting about something she did or another. My sister doesn't talk to my mom. My older brother avoids her as much as he can. My little brother wishes he could stop talking to her. Really. It's not just me. I'm not some black sheep.
Long ago I started cutting back on my venting about my mom to Butthole because, frankly, he doesn't know what it's like to have a mother like mine. His mom lives and breaths for him. My mom loves me, for sure, but she is far more selfish than Butthole's mom. I even might venture out and say that she doesn't love me as much as Butthole's mom loves him.
He simply doesn't know what it's like to be in a situation like that. When something happens and I try to talk to him about it he tells me that I'm probably exaggerating and she's not that bad. He doesn't say it but I always get the feeling that he thinks a little less of me every time I complain about my mom. He simply can't fathom a mother doing the things my mom has done.
To be honest I am ok with that. I would never, ever, wish for him or anyone to understand what it's like to have a mother like mine. I envy the relationship he has with his parents. I am happy he doesn't understand. I just wish he could at least believe me when I say that I'm not a terrible person for getting frustrated with her antics.
I am always a little afraid that if I complain about my mom then he'll think his parents are right. THEY ARE NOT RIGHT. My strained relationship with my mom is a product of her selfishness, not of my lack of desire for a relationship with her. It's not like I think what we have is normal and I think it's ok. It is NOT NORMAL. It is NOT OK. I am aware that things shouldn't be this way which is why they are wrong. They think that because this is all I know then this is all I am but that's not true.
I get the feeling that Butthole does think that too, though. It's almost as if he believes I'm ok with the way my mom and I get along. Like I've accepted it and I think "that's just how things are" and I mean that in general, in life. Sure, I've accepted that this is how things are FOR ME. But I know this isn't' how things should be, nor is it how I want things to be. I wish he understood that.
As long as he doesn't see that there is going to be a gap between us. I can feel it and sometimes the distance is so palpable I get scared. I feel so lonely when I talk to him about it. I really wish he understood. Not that he knew what it's like to have a bad relationship with his mom, but simply acknowledged that not everyone has a loving mother like him. I wish he'd accept my relationship with my mom for what it is without judging my character.
That's how his parents disliking me affect us. They believe that my family's dysfunction is just one big peek into the future that will be me. That the dysfunction is hereditary and inevitable. I think in some small way he worries that it's true. That is an absolutely terrifying feeling because if one day he becomes convinced of that then there will be nothing I can do. It's not like it's something I can just disprove in a minute. It is something I will disprove every day for the rest of my life and until the day I die I won't be able to say "See? I am not like that." I hope one day he'll believe me. Until then, there will be a lot of lonely times and a lot of emotional distance. I hope one day he can cross the bridge and eliminate the space between us.

Byebyeboobs.

Temporary Roommate is moving out tomorrow. She just text me. On the one hand it's a good thing because I have been waiting for the chance to talk to her about the fact that she drives me crazy. Not because she's a bad roommate but because I'm insane and picky and specific. On the other hand I'm definitely going to miss the money. It's not that I was going to kick her out. I was just going to over the ground rules and the conditions of staying at my place. I was sort of dreading it but now there is no need so all is well.
I learned, well, confirmed, that I'm definitely not made for the roommate life. I did learn that I am way less confrontational than I thought I was.
It's also good because I'm getting my 2nd bedroom back which will come in handy on the days Little Brother needs to get away from Mom. They just moved this last weekend. She bought a house. While it seems to be a sound financial investment the house is going to need work particularly in the venue of building Little Brother a bedroom so I expect him to be crashing at my place fairly often. At least they moved close by which means I'm going to get to see him a lot more frequently :) (I hope).
Excitement all around.