Why am I such a biatch??

Seriously, what is wrong with me?
GirlName is this super nice guy and we had become such good friends and now... I can't stand him!!! Every stupid thing he says makes me roll my eyes, every compliment he gives me makes my skin crawl, every tired joke he tells makes me want to smack him.
I'm an a-hole.
I was trying so hard to re-create Butthole that I let anyone fill the spot. I enjoy flattery so much that I'll overlook everything that generally annoys me just to hear I'm pretty. What a loser.
At first it was fun... he seemed clever and funny and we had so much in common. We would tell jokes and watch movies and go out with people. Eventually it got really tiring. The thing is, he's not tired of me. I let him believe we were great friends and now he won't know what the hell happened.
He's just so annoying. The stupid way he thinks I want his life advice and want to have deep conversation about my insecurities. The annoying "knight-in-shining-armor" delusion in which he thinks I need or want his help. He thinks I care (or should care) that he finds certain behaviors unattractive. How he thinks he's so chivalrous for not telling me I'm fat. How he assumes I want to hear otherwise. The way I can tell he hates it when I make fun of him. His annoying self-deprecating humor which is clearly a defense mechanism parents tell their elementary school aged kids to ward off the bullies. Fkn pussy. That's all I think. Dude, to quote Abed: "I have self esteem falling out of my butt." I really don't need you to kiss my ass all day, and if you expect anything resembling flattery to come from me you're going to be waiting for a very long time. You gotta earn the flattery.
Everything he does and says makes me cringe. Man, I'm such an ass!! Why can't I just associate with nice people? Nice is not fun. I want a worthy contender who can tell me I'm fat and knows he/she won't hurt my feelings. I want someone who's man enough to make fun of me. I life people who can take a verbal beating.
He's too much of a weenie. I'm too much of a bitch.
Bleh.

Well I guess this is growing up.

Last night I watched Toy Story 3. It was so cute, and so funny. It made me nostalgic. Andy all grown up and going to college. I'm all grown up (not going to college). I still remember watching the first Toy Story back in 95. First grade, beginning of the school year, I was 5 years old. It was Gonzalo Aller's birthday party. It became the first birthday party of the school year for the next 5 years. I wanna say it was raining, which was why we were inside watching a movie instead of running around his terraza like the following years. I remember the novelty of the first animated film. A tale of friendship and loyalty.
I hate growing up. I didn't want to stop playing with my toys. I didn't want to grow hips or wear make-up. I didn't want to stop climbing trees and fighting with my brother. I miss the simpler times. I cried when Andy gave his toys away. I cried when he played with them one last time.
Childhood was such a happier time. Why would anyone ever be in a rush to leave it behind?

I had the Teenage Dream.

I had this. I had it all. I really did. Down to the part of him thinking I'm funny when I'm really not.
He's testing me. I know it and I know I deserve it. I'm gonna have to prove I deserve a second chance and I can't argue. I will spend a long time living in dread. I will spend a long time hesitating before I even tell him I love him. I will stop breathing every time he doesn't text me back.
Would I turn back time if I could? Hell yes. I would go back to early August. I would go out and buy and bike and spend those last glorious weeks of summer riding to the park with him. I would go see Dinner for Schmucks. I may have gone to California with him if the chance materialized. I would choose house parties over the club. I would choose losing sleep to talk on the phone vs. any other reason.
I can't do that. I have to go forward. I have to extricate some form of lesson from this experience.
Listen to your heart.
Be honest with yourself.
Don't be so afraid to jump.
Trust him.
Accept who you are.
Fight for what you want.
Accept the lack of control.
Live for yourself.
This is not a New Years Resolution. This is a needed life change. This is the time to grow up.

I was an idiot.

This was so, so wrong.



Will someone please call a surgeon
Who can crack my ribs and repair this broken heart
That you're deserting for better company
I can't accept that it's over...
And I will block the door like a goalie tending the net
In the third quarter of a tied-game rivalry

So just say how to make it right
And I swear I'll do my best to comply
Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together?



I feel i must interject here...
You're getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself
With these revisions and gaps in history
So let me help you remember.
I've made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear.
I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave
So please back away and let me go
I can't my darling I love you so...
But oh, oh...

Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together?
Don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future
Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures


I know that I have made mistakes and I swear
I'll never wrong you again
You've got allure I can't deny,
But you've had your chance so say goodbye
Say goodbye

I took too long to feel.

I seem like an emotional person. I laugh big; I cry big; I get angry big; I sympathise big. When it comes to facing those emotions I'm as cold as a fish. I don't face my feelings. I run away. I rationalize my feelings away. In August I didn't allow myself to feel heartbroken. I stayed busy. I convinced myself I was ok. I allowed myself to feel superior to him while he showed me his heartbreak. I thought it made me strong. I thought it made me better. I thought he was weak for being upset. I was running away.
I'm not in such good shape. I can't run forever. Eventually I stopped to catch my breath and then it's like my feelings got tired of running, hitched a ride on a semi and then didn't see me stop on time so they plowed into me: head-on collision.
I don't want to be like that anymore. I want to learn to feel. I hate the way I acted. I hate that it took me this long to realize it. I wish I'd stopped long enough to feel back then. I let myself get carried away with my delusions and just when I felt safe and stopped to take a breath it all caught up with me. Now it's too late. I wish it wasn't. I wish I could explain all that to him. I wish he could understand. I wish he could forgive me. I wish he could trust me. I hate that girl who lived in denial and didn't want to face the music.

He doesn't like this song... but it's how I feel. I wonder if he doesn't like it because of the hypocrisy I know he sees. Butthole doesn't screw up. He thinks when it's important and he feels when it's important. He knows what to do. He's not messed up. He always knows what's right to do.
I wish I could turn back time and take a step in a different direction. I wish I could change all the events that lead to today. Nothing has been worth not being with him. I can't think of a single event in the past months worth keeping. I would take it all back.
I know he still loves me. I wish he didn't know better than me. I wish he'd allow himself to feel without thinking. I've learned. I really have. I wish he'd allow me to prove that. I wish he'd test me. I know I'd pass. I'm ready to give him my all. My all is better than it used to be.

I know he hasn't grown out of the feeling. He can't have. We are "missing each other too much to have had to let go." I see it, I do. I see my mistake. I see the way I convinced myself that I HAD to do what I did. I know I miss him too much to have been right.
I can't fault him for using his head even if it hurts me. It's what I did. I used my head instead of my heart. Who am I to demand otherwise?
I can only hope. I can only hope he'll spare me one more chance. I can feel now.

I lied.

There are lyrics to describe this.

I said these words nearly three years ago about someone else. What a slap in the face. These words are for me. Sitting next to a picture of us they have been staring at me in the face for years.

"You can fool some people sometimes, but you cannot fool all the people all the time." -Bob Marley.

The people who think I'm smart. The people who think I'm happy. The people who believe I know it all. Those people I can fool. Not him. He always knew. He was patient and he never threw it in my face. It wasn't his mission to fix me so he remained quiet while I avoided the truth. I mistook his silence for acquiescence. His silence only meant love. What an arrogant prick I am.
He was never fooled. I was. I am those people who can be tricked.
I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

Sometimes even music can't speak.

It's numbness and regret. For years I've fought off regret with the philosophy that things happen for a reason. The milk spills for some ulterior cosmic motive. This didn't happen for any necessary reason. I turned the cup over. I purposely filled a squirt gun with milk and spewed it everywhere ruining everything it touched. Everything smells of sour, spoiled milk. There's nothing left to do but replace everything in the room.
How do I not regret what I consciously made happen? How can I say it had to happen when I knew all along it didn't have to? Why did I have to use my head? It's been 21 years, how did I forget that I'm not smart? I use my head at the wrong times and I ruin everything.
I regret that day and everyday there on after. I hate that his life continued and he changed. He learned new things without me. He had fun without me. I wasn't a part of the good times. He didn't call me with the good news. I couldn't call him with the bad ones. He moved on. He was done with me by the time I called. Why did it take so long for my feelings to creep up and take over? Why did my brain go into overdrive? My defense mechanisms ruin everything. The rose colored glasses fell off my face and I stepped on them with my new high heels.
Why am I so afraid to feel? I put off feeling and I still ended up in pain. I could have avoided all of this if I had just turned my brain off for a minute and let my heart guide me. Now I expect him to do what I should have done back in August. I want him to forget that I hurt him and to remember that he loves me. I want him to take the risks I wasn't brave enough to take. I expect him to trust me after I turned my back on him for my own selfish reasoning.
I've always been too demanding of everyone but myself. I have low expectations of myself. I don't think I'm good enough to give more than I give. I'm not strong enough to risk my heart. I'm not brave enough to put myself at another's mercy. And still I expect to be loved unconditionally and without question.
He once said "I just met you, how can you expect me to trust you 100%?" Man, he had me pegged from the beginning. Why couldn't I see that? Why didn't I trust him 100%? If I had had faith in him then maybe he'd been trusting of me, just like if I hadn't fucked up this time he'd still be willing to love me.
I think I'm so smart the way I figure people out. The way I understand others. Why can't I understand myself? Why am I so transparent to him when I look like a solid brick wall to myself? I should have trusted him to love me even when he could see all of me. Instead, I told him he was wrong, I told myself he was wrong, and I pretended not to see what he saw so clearly. There's a reason he's the future doctor.
I've said that before, haven't I? There I go again. There I always go. Knowing what's right and ignoring it completely. Hell, I even named this blog after my biggest flaw. I reflect and throw away. How ironic. If only I was smart. I am smart- that's why I can see the flaws, but I'm an idiot because I don't fix them. I'm a coward because I don't want to. Changing myself is admitting defeat. Admitting that I'm less than perfect. Where do I get off lacking so much humility? Who the hell do I think I am? What ever gave me this insane sense of grandeur? Where did this arrogance come from?
Am I so damaged by my past to justify these walls? Admitting that I'm not perfect puts the blame on me. If I'm never wrong then nothing is ever my fault. I need to learn to take responsibility. I need to learn to deal with the consequences.
It had to come to this. I'm not at a point where I can deserve something this good. "You can't love someone else until you learn to love yourself." I feel like I knew this before. I said I couldn't get married until I knew how to stand on my own. It's deeper than that for me. I can't have something great until I learn how to not screw it up. I can't be loved entirely until I know how to love fearlessly. I can't be caught until I learn to not be afraid of hitting the ground.
I wish all this made me feel better. Maybe this did have to happen. Maybe my subconscious (not the conscious part of my brain because that part of my brain is a moron) made me screw up this big to teach me all of this. I wish that made the ache go away. I wish I could have learned all this before I let go of the man who saw all these faults.
He saw all this, I know he did, yet he loved me. He was patient, and he was kind. He was willing to tell me the truth and hold my hand until I was brave enough to face it. He doesn't want to hold my hand anymore. He can't take it anymore. I'm no longer worth his patience. This was my favorite part about him and I abused it until it wore out. I loved that he wasn't willing to put up with my shit. I'm like a 3 year old... I had to keep pushing it. 3 years olds are smarter than me. They learn boundaries and limits before they break them. Maybe that's why I don't like kids. One more group of people who are smarter than me.
So I will regret and hopefully learn. This pain will probably stay with me forever. I don't think he's going to forgive me. I think he's done teaching me lessons. I will have to live forever knowing that I ruined the one thing that was good for me. I will always know I lost the love of someone who truly knew me, and truly loved me flaws and all. He saw me. He saw all of me. He saw through me and saw me from every angle. Still he loved me. And it wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough to accept it. I wasn't brave enough to deserve it.
Love is only pain when you, yourself, don't know how to love. If I don't know how to love then I will never be loved. Not again.
I want to learn. I want to be loved. I don't want to keep screwing up.

It's over.

Anything that ever mattered is done. He's done. With me. It hurts. I'm in pain. I can't breath. It feels like someone is standing on my chest. It feels like someone just took a bat to my head. It feels like my shoes are too small and my necklace too tight. It feels like my heart is trying to escape through my throat so it doesn't have to be a part of my body anymore. I can't stop shaking. My eyes hurt from holding back tears. I could be struck by lightning and ripped limb from limb and it wouldn't feel like anything. Nothing can compare to this pain.
How will this feeling ever go away. I don't want it gone. I want to feel pain. I want this agony to remain with me forever. As long as I feel pain it will mean I love him. A life without loving him is not a life worth living.
How could I do this? What was I thinking? How could I think that I could live my life without him? If you love him set him free and if it's meant to be he'll come back. What a bunch of shit. I never needed to set him free to know he belonged with me. Now I released him and he's gone forever. Why did I doubt his love. Why did I doubt our strength. Why was I so afraid. Why couldn't I be brave. Why am I so afraid to be hurt. Why do I end up causing myself so much pain. Why couldn't I trust him. I hate me. I hate everything about me. I hate everything I am and how worthless I feel.
I hate that I let go the only thing that ever made me feel alive. He was the only thing that made me feel there was a reason for me to get up every day. How could I? Why do I reject love? Why can't I be smart and make good decisions?
I hate new Julia. She's a worthless piece of shit. She's empty and shallow and unimpressive. She's small and useless and uninspiring. She doesn't want to be seen. She wants to fill the emptiness with more worthlessness. She wants to seem happy and lively. She's a liar. She's pathetic and a coward. She's stupid and reckless and unaware.
I tried to fill an emptiness that I caused. I ruined my life. Pain is all I deserve.
I used to think I deserved better. How wrong was I. I knew there had to be a reason why my life sucked so much. This is why. Because I'm a fuck up and I fucked up and I hurt the most important person. It was karma backwards. My whole life has been punishment for what I would do wrong. I see that now. I need to feel this. I need to hurt.

I can't watch a sunset on my own.

"Merry Happy" by Kate Nash.

Watching me like you never watch no one
Don't tell me that you didn't try and check out my bum
Cause I know that you did
Cause your friend told me that you liked it

Gave me those pearls and I thought they were ugly
Though you try to tell me that you never loved me
I know that you did
'Cause you said it and you wrote it down

Dancing at discos
Eating cheese on toast
Yeah you make me merry make me very very happy
But you obviously, you didn't want to stick around

So I learnt from you
Do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do
So I learnt form you
Do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do

I can be alone, yeah
I can watch a sunset on my own
I can be alone, yeah
I can watch a sunset on my own
I can be alone
I can watch a sunset on my own

Sitting in restaurants
Thought we were so grown up
But I know now that we were not the people
That we turned out to be

Chatting on the phone
Can't take back those hours
But I won't regret
'Cause you can grow flowers
From where dirt used to be

Dancing at discos
Eating cheese on toast
Yeah you make me merry make me very very happy
But you obviously, you didn't want to stick around

So I learnt from you
Do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do
So I learnt from you
Do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do

I can be alone, yeah
I can watch a sunset on my own
I can be alone, yeah
I can watch a sunset on my own
I can be alone
I can watch a sunset on my own
(do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do)

Merry Happy is such a good break up song. It's all about growth and acceptance. It's about moving on knowing you'll be the better because of it. Can we really grow from heartbreak? Sure, if the heartbreak stems from the shock of change. If the pain comes from truly having your heart torn apart, and from truly having a part of you stripped away it's a different story. It's easy to move on when the person isn't right for you. What if the person wasn't wrong, though? What if the person was perfect for you? How will you learn to watch the sunset on your own if you were always meant to watch it with someone else? Growing flowers where dirt was is easy. How do you grow flowers in a field already abloom with lilies? I don't feel like I can be alone. He would never try to tell me that he never loved me. I guess the difference is that we did want to stick around.

I don't know what I want. I don't know if I can talk to him and ask him back into my life. I don't know if he would still want me.
I know I can't remember the last time I felt happy. I'm tired, and lonely, and I feel sad all of the time. I constantly have a weight on my chest. My stomach is always in knots. I can't find a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I can't find the motivation to do anything but lay around all day. Nothing feels right.
Is it the winter blues? Has time caught up with me now that I have it? Am I feeling what I didn't have time to feel back in August? Will this pass? Will things get worse before they get better? Will I learn how to be alone? Is this a sign of weakness? Am I not strong enough to stand alone? How do I know what my feelings mean? Who can help me figure it out?
I only have questions. I can't find the answers.

Screw you, 2010.

I had entered this year with hope. I was hopeful that things would be better and that I'd end the year a better, happier person. Fuck this year.
I got fired for the first time- from the job I actually enjoyed.
I got out of shape while working 2 jobs for no reason.
I broke up with the greatest guy in the world after spending an entire summer missing him.
My little brother had to move in with me because my mother officially went off the deep end.
My nephews went back to Argentina.
And now... grandpa died.
Anything else 2010? Am I gonna get diagnosed with terminal cancer next week? Is my apartment going to catch on fire? Is my dog going to run away? WHAT? WHAT ELSE? Tell me now because I can't take it anymore. I can't keep hoping things start looking up.
The only thing I can hope for is to survive... and I don't see why.

Perdon que no te llame. Perdon que no escribi. Perdoname si crees que te olvide. Perdon que fui tan egoista. Te extrañe y te voy a extrañar todavia. El otro dia hice pure de papas y estaba riquisimo. El tullo sigue siendo mejor. Te llevo conmigo.

I can't even enjoy the sunrise...

This morning when I left home from work the sky looked beautiful. The fluffiest, patchiest clouds littered the morning sky. Those kinds of clouds that with the morning light look blue instead of white. They blended perfectly with that light blue of the early hours of the day. All I could think of was him. "The" him. The Butthole "him." It took me back to a long, long time ago.
It was early-mid December 2008. I had stayed at his house, and in the morning he took me to work. I even remember the sound I made when the alarm went off. His room was pitch black and I had a head cold. I remember how warm his body felt. I recall the way he sleepily got out of bed and put on a sweater. The way he waited for me to get ready at home. I still remember the sky that morning. I still remember the way I felt. We were outside taking Spazzpup out (how romantic) and it was freezing. It was an odd cold. The sky was bright fuchsia and the clouds neon orange. We could see our breath but we weren't shivering. I remember he was wearing basket ball shorts. I remember how I loved him. How I wanted to stay rooted that very spot and enjoy the sunrise with him.
I remember lots of moments like that.
It's been 4 months and it feels like years... After 4 months I should feel more secure in my decision, not doubtful. I miss him. I miss everything about him.
Everything still reminds me of him. I can't enjoy much without thinking of him. Chuck Norris facts aren't funny unless he's the one texting them to me. No one seems to know that grapes are the fruit of hope... or what long pointies are. No one knows what it's like to miss it by that much. No one's made fun of my "Christmas sweaters." Dulce de leche is mine again. I'm no one's Sugar Plum Fairy.
I can still remember his smell. His voice... I miss the sweet things he used to say to me. The way his eyes would light up when he'd see me after a long time. How he'd hug me when he came home on Fridays. I miss the way I could hear him run up the stairs to see me. The annoying way he'd hover around me in the kitchen and hug me tightly when I told him to go away. I miss walking Spazzpup with him while he bitched he was cold because he was still wearing sandals in the winter.
Do I have the strength to call him? Can I swallow my pride and disregard my belief that when people break up it's forever? Should I call him? Does he still miss me?
It always felt like true love. I was so sure it was. I still feel sure it was. I'm still sure I'll never love like that again. How can anyone know for sure? Did we just end at the wrong time? Were we always going to be together? What would have happened if I just waited another year? Would the lost time absolutely change everything? Did I ruin my only shot at finding the right guy?
One thing is for sure... the sunrise isn't the same.

The attack.

This morning I was walking Spazzpup when we walked by a house with two Weimaraners. They were running towards the gate as I thought: "Oh cool! Weimaraners! How cute!" Then their gate burst open. Awe turned into hesitation as these prancing beasts headed towards me.
It wasn't one, but TWO dogs. I don't know what you know about Weimaraners but them mother suckers are STRONG. Sweet, sure, but if they aren't friendly they can do some serious damage.
Here these giants come at us and I'm trying to figure out what's gonna happen when SOMEONE starts barking and growling. I'm pretty sure it was Spazzpup because she can be a bit of a territorial PITA at times- especially when two dogs are coming at her at the same time.
Now I'm standing in between what I think is about to be a dog fight. I trying to shove a big dog off while keeping the other at bay and thinking "Holy crap! I could get bit right now!" Of course my brain didn't register that "Hey, you're kicking and pushing and they aren't turning on you- they can't be that harmful." Here I am shouting "Stop! Stop!" Like the wacky old lady in her nightgown tells her Chihuahua to quit barking (that is to say- to no avail) while kicking a Weimaraner away, trying to hold Spazzpup still, and making sure the third dog doesn't sneak up on us from the other side.
Then I hear a sound. A screeching, high-frequency, frantic squeal. Where is it coming from? Is someone hurt? Why, no, not at all. It's me. I'm screaming like a complete moron. There's barking, growling, and me screaming.
Two different guys pull over, the neighbor (guy from the gym- great) came out, and then the owner comes running out. By then it was all over. Spazzpup is standing still, ready for play, one dog lost interest and is sniffing a bush next door, and the other dog is wagging her tail.
Now I realize I panicked for nothing. They were most likely just wanting to say hi and my freaking out made the whole situation more stressful. Spazzpup didn't have a hair out of place or a drop of drool on her (which means they likely didn't even bite her). The owner apologized, asked me what happened, checked the gate, and I tucked my spastic tail between my legs. Turns out the dogs are actually puppies (probably 8 months) and still learning how to behave around other dogs.

It was embarrassing. Now I shall be known as that spazz who screams in times of crisis.

Now in my defence, I used to be all open to strange dogs approaching us. Really, I'd stand there and wait for it, but then one day I stood there and the strange dog actually attacked Spazzpup. Ever since I kinda freeze when a strange dog comes at us- I try, I really do, but I get scared. What a wiener.

Aaaannndddd the scores are in!

Aaaaannnndddd Butthole kicks asssssssssssssssss!!!!! 37! 37 !!! 37!!!! All the hard work paid off and I could not be more excited for him. I am so proud of him!

Gahhh

On another note: Suck it Butthole's parents! WHAT NOWWWW????

Low iron.

It has been two months since my last donation. I've decided I'm going to become a regular blood donor and look for a blood drive every 8 weeks. Last week I made an appointment to go donate blood yesterday. I asked Glee to give me a ride and he said he'd actually donate, too. I thought: Great! I get a ride and UBS gets another donor!
I spent all day drinking water to make sure I was well hydrated. I ate fruit throughout the day to keep my sugar in place. I had a good hearty lunch (or so I thought). All to no avail. When Glee and I arrived we were greeted by the funniest, loudest, craziest women. They kept cracking jokes, making fun of each other, and complaining about the music. Through all the jokes and laughter I was asked the questions. Since I had my blood donor ID card it went a lot quicker- they already had all of my information. When she went to prick my finger I did the usual: shut my eyes tight, look away, and breath deeply... all while she made fun of me.
As we joked about my freaking out she took a sample and we waited for the results. Mid-joke she informed me I didn't pass the iron test: I was too low. EFFFFFFFFF. She offered to check again to which I said yes. I figured I had already made it that far and might as well do it. Poke. Sample. Test. FAIL. UGH! What a waste of time. I could have gone to the gym... damn.
She said I could try again today, though I can't because I work. Tomorrow, however, there's another drive somewhere else and I should only be working a half day. I'm thinking for lunch I'll down some pork, take a steak out of the freeze and gobble up some red meat for lunch tomorrow. That should do it, right?
I sure hope so.
Glee's donation went smoothly. The guy that drew his blood kept making irreverent jokes and joking that he'd just gotten out of prison and that he hated blood and needles. I wish I could have gotten poked by the sexist, racist, mentally-unstable, ex-con, too. :( Wait... that didn't sound right :P

Julia the humanitarian

I did it. I ran the race. I came in 644th! Woo! Whatever, it was out of 1300, so suck it.
I'd like to say I found the experience emotional or something but it turned out to be pretty anti-climactic. I got there bright and early at 7ish with Butthole (He's the best, he got up at 6 on Saturday for me!) and walked over to the race site. It's was slightly windy and pretty darn cold!
There were freebies galore (who knew?) and I snuck a few random things: a mug, a key-chain, two of those cheap backpacks with the string straps, a pedometer (I know! Right?), and a little padded pouch with a strap to hang around my neck which will be awesome to stuff my keys and MP3 player on future runs. There was a ton of other stuff but I always feel a little bad about free stuff for some reason so I don't grab everything I could (darn it!).
We spent about 20 minutes trying to find the place to go exchange my shirt because the size I ordered was too big for my comfort. I've gotta say: I did not like the way the event was organized, that is to say, not at all! The volunteers mostly didn't know anything and the important booths such as registration/donation sites/t-shirts were TOTALLY hidden and there were no signs to point you in the right direction. It took us a while to find the starting line, too.
The run was fine. The crowd was HUGE! There were people of every age, shape and size. Men and women running with strollers, a couple of people running with dogs, and little kids. At one point I heard people behind me barking "Woo woo" (think deep barking sort of sounds) noises and suddenly got passed my Batman and a gorilla. I laughed, literally, out loud. I wish I'd have kept the camera at that point. Seriously, a guy running dressed up as batman, with a cape and everything, and a guy behind him running in a gorilla suit. Behind me you could hear "Gosh! That must be HOT!!!" It was great. There were lots of "In Memory of" signs on people's backs, and lots of pictures of loved ones, too. Those were moving. I thought of everyone who lost the battle and everyone who's fighting it and I didn't let myself get tired. Close to the finish line there was a group of little cheerleaders doing cartwheels and cheering. I mean little as in little girls, they must have been aged 5-7. So adorable! There were water stations through out and people on the streets cheering and watching.
Butthole almost didn't see me at the finish line!! I was running and saw him standing there looking through the crowd and he looked right over me! I had to yell "Butthole!" in order for him to find me. He ran with me and then ran ahead to be able to get a picture and then he ran with me to the finish line. I wish they'd had more room! I hated having to stop so abruptly.
We walked around a bit more so my muscles could cool off. I didn't stay for the closing ceremony, sadly, but it wasn't til 2 hours later and there really wasn't much to do til then.
Overall, as much as it wasn't some sort of inspiring experience for me I'm definitely going to do it again next year. It's all for a good cause and that's all that matters. Plus Butthole said it looked like a lot of fun and he wants to try it out next year so who knows, maybe next year I'll be one of the cool people with a team to run with!

Rash decision that hopefully won't backfire.

I'm not an impulsive person. From time to time, however, I make some ridiculous decision without thinking it through. Actually, there's proof of that right here. Yesterday was one of those times when I made a decision without any thinking and I panicked for a while afterwards. I made a rather costly purchase (for my budget, anyway). I bought Phatty and myself a "Spa Package" that includes things like a massage, a facial, a manicure, etc. How did I come to make such a decision? Well... it all started yesterday after lunch while I was at work.
I was sitting there minding my own business, pretending like I was accomplishing some arduous task (while really watching YouTube videos or something equally important) when a dazzling set of freakishly straight and abnormally white teeth walked in through the door.

Julia, squinting: Well hello there outrageously perfect teeth, what can I do for you today?
Teeth: Hello, I'm from Fancy Pants Salon and we have a promotion we are offering to those in the medical field.
Julia, thinking this only applies to the docs/assistants, anyway: Well... this is a dental office, does that count? *hoping he says no so I can shoo him away*
Teeth: Oh yes, that includes you guys! We have a package deal for all of our services for 80% off. That includes massage, facial, foils, manicure, blablabla... all for $42
Julia, blinking away the tears induced by the brightness of his teeth: Err... I don't really need any of that stuff. I do my own nails and I have a fantastic stylist. I know it doesn't translate because I look like this (pointing at myself and my scraggly hair) but she's really great.
Teeth: Well you could always get it as a gift for someone.

Oh you. coy. bastard. You'd love that, wouldn't you?

Julia: Actually, my sister's birthday is next month and she might actually love this. She's a mom of three who works full time and doesn't have time to wipe her butt.*

*Ok, she wipes her butt, but her skin is practically peeling off because she's not even making time to put lotion on. I told her to keep the lotion by the toilet so she can apply it while she poops but she forgets :/ She's that busy.

Julia (cont'd): Can I get back to you?
Teeth: Well, I only have 5 more coupons on me so it's sort of "now or never" It's a great deal, *rattles off the content again* it's a $400 value which right now you'd get for $42.
Julia, hesitant, but slowly falling for the trap: Hmmm... I don't know... Well, what if I got two? Is there a possibility for us both to go together and have a girly day?
Teeth,devilishly: Oh yes, that'd be perfect. Just call and make the appointments and you can go and have whatever you guys want done.
Julia, seriously considering making an impulsive purchase: ... Hmmm

By then I had the coupon in my hand and I was finally able to look past the teeth and notice that he's was actually a guy, not just a floating set of veneers. He had great skin and well groomed hair. He's a great spokesperson but I'd probably recommend he doesn't smile so much. Seriously, I think his teeth damaged my corneas.
Unless that's part of the plan...? Maybe he dazzles unsuspecting customers with his unnaturally white teeth and before you know it you've purchased 2 spa days for you and your sister and you don't even know what hit you? OH SHIZZ! What's this? OH NO! I did buy two spa days for my sister and me! How did that happen? You sneaky, smooth-skinned, crisp-shirted, perfectly groomed persuader... you're sick!
At any rate. There was no turning back but having reverted to my usual non-impulsive self I was now panicking. "What did I just do!?!" Seeking validation for my lack of thinking, I informed some online friends (yeah, I have online friends, wanna do something about it?) about my purchase. Everyone seemed to think it was a great deal, great present, great purchase, etc. Then a couple mentioned that there would probably be some sort of aggressive sales pitch when I got there and to be prepared. That's not as exciting and then someone said the inevitable:
"What if the guy isn't even from the salon?"
...
*tires squealing*HOoooooooOOooooolllldddd the phone. WHAT? *Julia craps her pants* "I didn't even think of that" *Surge of adrenaline as I panic* "What if I just wasted $84 on a scam!?!??"
Aw crap. At any rate, I swallowed the lump in my throat and called the salon.

Girl: Fancy Pants Salon, how may I help you?
Julia, nearly in tears and shaking: Hi, I just had a guy walk in claiming to be from Fancy Pants Salon offering a deal for your services...
Girl: *sighs* yes... about that...
Julia, freaking the hell out because I think the girl's about to tell me it's a scam: I was wondering if it's for real?
Girl: Yes, it IS real. It's a legitimate offer. We've had several calls about it.
Julia, getting dizzy from the huge sigh of relief: Oh good, because I just purchased two of those packets so I'm glad I didn't waste my money.

At any rate, apparently one should check on those things before making rash decisions. Obviously plenty of others are more cautions than me. Curse me and my trusting nature!
I'm glad I didn't waste my money, but hopefully I'll think twice next time I give some dashing set of teeth a large lump of money.

The times when I lose hope.

Sometimes people say and do things that make me wonder. I'll just illustrate my point with this conversation:

Next patient of the day who's due in ten minutes (Next patient, for short): Hi, this is New Patient, I have an appointment at 11 and I wanted to let you know that I'm running late. Is that ok?
Me, irritated but willing to deal with it: Yes it should be ok (No, it's not, but what am I supposed to d0?) how late are you running?
Next patient: Probably a few minutes. I had a family emergency.

Now let me add that I believe that excuse is bullshit. He just sounds like the kind of guy that would abuse the idea of his grandmother getting carried away by a velociraptor* in order to get away with stopping at Starbucks before his dentist appointment. Regardless of that, I NEVER care about patients' excuses (unless they try to make me feel bad about their grandma getting carried about by a velociraptor- then I think they are total douches). Realistically speaking, the reason why they are running late/not coming doesn't matter to me because whether their Grandma got carried away by a velociraptor, or they just slept in, or they were in Africa feeding starving children and were delayed by a layover in China where zombies were attacking all the pilots doesn't change the fact that now my schedule is messed up, my boss is going to turn into a royal bitch, and Doctor is going to go off on a rant about people's idiocy with a tone of superiority.


Me: Well if it's just a few minutes that should be ok.
Next patient: Yeah, well I'm just now leaving Town That's at Least 45 Minutes Away. So yea... Will you still see me?
Me, thinking "Are you an idiot?": .... If you are just now leaving Town That's at Least 45 Minutes Away there's not way you're going to make your 11 O'clock appointment as that's in 10 minutes and you're 45 minutes away.
Next patient, confused: So can I still be seen today? I'll just be late by a little bit.
Me, thinking "You ARE an idiot": ... No. At this rate you're going to be late by an hour.
Next Patient, with what is probably a blank stare: So, can't I still be seen?

Bitch Boss overheard me at this point and did that obnoxious thing where she starts barking orders in an angry tone about how I need to reschedule the patient and how the patient is a "f**cking idiot." Because apparently she can't tell from what I'm saying that's it's obvious I'm telling this jerk off that we won't see him today, so she feels the need to make it clear.

Me, thinking "Not only are you an idiot, but you're also deaf": No. We are going to have to reschedule you.
Next Patient, now shocked and appalled: FOR REALS?! Like... you can't still see me? I'm just running a little bit late.
Me, thinking "How fast do you think you can drive? Moron.": No, you're not. You're running late by at least 45 minutes. There's another patient after you and if we see you then we'll be late for the next patient. We will not see you today.
Next Patient: ...oh. So I can't be seen?

I sure hope this guy doesn't have kids. I proceeded to reschedule his appointment and hopefully his grandpa won't be eaten by rabid goats next week.

EFF!!! And of course now Bitch Boss is being a bitch cursing and moaning about what a "F**ked day" this is. I hate this place. Sometimes I wish I was free to tell people just how idiotic they are.

*Why doesn't Spellcheck recognize the word velociraptor? And why does it want me to replace it with "velocipede"? WTF is a velocipede? Oh.. apparently a velocipede is " any human-powered land vehicle with one or more wheels' so basically a bike. WTF? That's not evel close to a dinosaur.

Mandatory Sex Parties

It's a well known fact that I'm incredibly awesome. Really, it's true. What? I can't help it. I was just born this way. As admittedly awesome as I may be I am also well aware that there are those out there who are far, far awesomer than even me. Take Allie, for example. I discovered her blog last week while I debated whether it'd be more painful to staple my tongue to my lip or to stab my calf with a letter opener at work. Allie is tremendously awesome.
As I made my way through her old posts I came across her bit about the Mandatory Sex Parties, unbeknown to her, a term created in an erratic need for an outrageous statement. When she realized that no one had ever used that term before she decided she'd start a campaign to get the phrase popularized.
This post is partly to spread the word, but it's also reflective. I started to think about mandatory sex parties and wondered what exactly they would entail. Sex as a requirement, for one, that's obvious. Or is it? Is the sex mandatory or is attendance mandatory? If so, what would one do if invited but unwilling to participate? Would the invitation come with an RSVP card with only a "Yes, I will be attending" box? How exactly would the rule be enforced, though? Would these be a new social requirement? "You must attend a MSP at least once every 6 years."
Would admittance to these parties be invitational only? Is it some raunchy free for all where all are welcome so long as they are prepared to get down dirty with their private parts? What kind of sexual activities would one be required to partake in? Does masturbation count as sex? Could one show up to one of these parties and sit in the corner and spank it while others got freaky with each other?
Are these house parties or would the take place at one of those orgy houses (that's what I call them anyway) where people pay to get in and then have sex with strangers? I would think this would need to be more of an organized event than just "Hey Tommy, you're invited to my Mandatory Sex Party. Bring your own condoms! I really hope to see you there from 6:30 to 9:30 on Friday night. There will be refreshments and comfortable pillows." There should be consent forms, health checks, and the department of sanitation would definitely need to be involved.
In retrospect, I hope this term never takes off. I'd be very afraid of some creep eventually taking the joke way too seriously and trying to actually have a mandatory sex party. And what if people like them? I would dread checking my mail every day. I'd shiver every time I saw an invitation envelope. I'd tremble every time a friend approached me with a piece of paper in hand. Checking my e-mail would be a nightmare what with evites being just a click away. Oh the horror! The horror!!

The Butthole Blog.

Let's give it up, already. Truth is, Butthole is mostly my life. At least the part of my life worth talking about. I hardly talk about him to anyone but him so I need to let it out. I've been driving him crazy lately telling him just how amazing he is.
"You're starting to act like my mother" he said. A-hole.
Point is, he IS awesome. Really, not just as my boyfriend. He's a great boyfriend but really, he's just great. I seriously feel more fulfilled in my life just by knowing him. He's a good person. His good qualities are so overabundant it's almost sickening.
I still remember the time I asked him why he donated blood. He didn't actually have an answer. It was a matter of "Why not?" He did it because he's a kind, generous person who doesn't need to gain in order to give.
He's incredibly patient. Every time I complain about pretty much anyone (usually Boss Lady) he doesn't know what to say. You know why? Because things just don't get to him. He tells me "Just be amused by it. Why are you getting mad?" I have no idea how he does it.
He's the only kid I've ever me who actually feels guilty if he doesn't do what his parents ask of him. He is so grateful for what they've done for him that he doesn't hesitate to repay them for their hard work.
We're talking about a guy who manages to balance a full time school work load (while remaining in the honors program), working at a lab, a steady friendship with guys he's known since the 7Th grade, a good relationship with his family, all while keeping his psychotic girlfriend happy. He's like a super hero without the tights. He's seriously giving Chuck Norris a run for his money.
I highly recommend, if you haven't met him yet, that you seek him out. He will enrich your life in ways you never knew possible.

Here I am, minus a pint of blood!

I did it! I donated blood for the first time! I did it and I didn't pass out or puke or die or anything!
I went in on Friday, signed the check-in sheet and got taken behind of the little private booths to answer all the questions about my health. The guy who did it was very nice and very patient with me in spite of my many chants of "I'm soooo nervous" and excessive giggling. He promised he knew how to make sure the finger prick to check iron levels didn't hurt and I was unbelieving. By golly, he wasn't lying, though! "Ring finger to the side: The least amount of nerve endings." Once I made it through the screening they set me up the chair and I had to wait for all the equipment to get set up which took forever.
The guy who actually drew my blood was cool. He kept cracking jokes which I found both oddly comforting and mortifying. "I'm just a guy with a needle," he said. He prepped my arm with rubbing alcohol and put a band around the top of my arm and tightened it. He made me squeeze a ball several times, apparently, to find a vein. Then came the prick. It was definitely uncomfortable but not excruciating. I was instructed to squeeze the ball every 3-4 seconds. It was pretty uncomfortable as my arm felt all tingly but it wasn't awful. He said I had a good flow due to good hydration (I better had! I drank like a gallon of water that day!). It was over pretty quickly. Then he removed the needle and told me to go have a snack and hang around for about 15 minutes.
All in all I was fine. I needed a lot of water for the remainder of the day (sooo thirsty!) but I felt fine, though a little tired.
I'll be doing it again, though I won't promise I won't break out into a cold sweat from nerves again next time.

"At least now you'll have a story to tell"

A story to tell I have, indeed. It's April... Flowers are a-bloomin'... Sun's a-shinin'... and that means... PICNICS!! Yesterday, for Easter Sunday, Butthole decided (I KNOW!!) we were going to have a picnic. Surprisingly, his parents were on board with the idea, and in fact, they wanted to come along. He picked me up and we stopped by the grocery store to get some food.
We arrived at his house and layed everything out on the kitchen table in order to prepare said food. In my expert picnicker opinion it's best to take all sandwich building material with one to the picnic destination and prepare said sandwiches on sight. Unfortunately it's was a 4 to 1 on the amateurs' side who wanted to assemble the sandwiches prior to departure. I can give you plenty of reasons why sandwiches should be prepared AT the picnic sight:

1. Picnics are ALL about making the sandwiches while sitting on a blanket and fighting the bugs off your mayo.

2. A perfect excuse to buy the mayo in the squeeze bottle

3. No chance for the tomato to soak through the bread as ingestion is immediate following assembly.

4. How do you know how hungry you'll be when you get there? What if you don't make enough? What if you make too much? Then you're stuck with a pile of soggy sandwiches no one wants to eat.

5. Balancing a paper plate on your lap while you try not to drop the bread mayo-side-down as you reach for the turkey is FUN *Bonus points if it's slightly breezy and the plate keeps trying to fly away with your piece of bread while you put mayo on the other piece.

But what do I know? It's not like I've been picnicking (YES I am making that into a verb) my whole life. *Back to the tangent-free time line* At first there was a debate on whether the bread should be toasted. Cue Butthole for a pronounced *SCOFF* "But of course it should be toasted!" As his mother rummaged in the cupboards for the toaster and argued with Butthole as to it's place of residence (they have like 3 toasters apparently... WTF?) I commenced slicing tomatoes while Peace Chick brought forth the necessary items out of the fridge. His mother (after finally finding the toaster)declared the necessity for an assembly line. She toasted the bread, Peace Chick spread the mayonnaise, I added tomato and lettuce, Butthole took care of the meat and cheese and his dad took care of the wrapping. As you know we aren't poor 3rd world 6 year olds assembling shoes for Nike in order to support our families of 6 so we weren't exactly efficient and there were plenty of traffic jams and duty-crossing. At any rate... We made an inordinate amount of sandwiches, gathered all of our snacks, and headed out. We got to the park, picked a shady spot, and set up. So far, so good.
After eating (not nearly half the sandwiches me made) and relaxing for a while Peace Chick and I decided I was going to learn how to long board. It's surprisingly easy. See?



Let it be noted that I was NOT wearing the appropriate attire for anything other than sitting still and looking pretty. Those aren't even my shoes, they're Peace Chick's (matching was unintentional) as I was wearing sandals and we figured it wouldn't be safe for me to try to skate in my sandals, adorable as they may be. Then Peace Chick encouraged me to go up the street and coast down the hill. Easy enough, right? WRONG. I should have seen that one coming.
The thing about Peace Chick is that she was a zen-like aura about her that makes you forget about the possibility of consequences. In all honesty, she should be selling used cars because anything she suggests automatically sounds like a good idea. She manages to make the words "You should go down the hill" make sense. Never mind that you're wearing an adorable new dress and sandals. When she suggests something there's a little voice inside your head that suddenly perks up and whispers: "Nothing could possibly go wrong, after all, this is the first time you've ever tried this."
As I stood there preparing for take off a bunch of kids zoomed by as if to say "Come on, Julia, look how easy we make it look, this is a totally good idea, you should totally try to do it!" Well the subliminal messaging sunk in and I took off. As Peace Chick narrated "And this is the part where she starts screaming" I felt myself gaining speed. I, did, indeed start screaming, much to Peace Chick's amusement. The world was becoming a blur as I panicked on wheels. Peace Chick was screaming "Don't jump! Don't jump off!!" And then... I was flying! No, really, I flew all across the pavement. I still can't say with certainty whether I panicked and jumped off or if I just lost my balance. Either way I did considerable damage to my body, my clothing, and my ego. I landed right on my hip (which is now twice as big, thank you very much), scraped my left elbow, my knee, my right forearm (WTF?), my boob (WTF? X 2- those were covered!), my hand, and even chipped my toe-nail polish. I laid on the ground trying to make sense of it all and then the board rolled at me. People were running. Peace Chick was yelling/laughing/saying "OH DUDE!" Butthole was angrily screaming at me "What were you thinking!?!?" It was a blur. A painful, humiliating, bloody blur. Adrenaline was pumping through me. As every one's screams of "Is she ok?" reached my ears I became so high on the adrenaline that I could do nothing but laugh. Now I was the manic psycho bleeding everywhere and laughing about it.
His mom (OH GOSH! HIS MOM!!!) came running both with maternal AND doctor instinct. We drove back to Butthole's so that I could get cleaned up and bandaged up. His mom came along to clean me up. Now, I've gotta say, for a doctor, she was not well equipped for injuries of the magnitude I had induced upon myself. I guess that makes sense, though, considering in an ideal reality she no longer has small children who have no concept of cause and effect regarding the risky shenanigans they deem "fun." All she had was hydrogen peroxide (OUCH!!!) and band-aids. She patched me up and I apologized over and over for ruining the afternoon. Peace Chick laughed and apologized both for laughing and for encouraging me to pull such a thoughtless stunt. Butthole stood by holding my hand and shaking his head in disbelief at my stupidity. I noticed I ripped my (NEW) dress and had to safety-pin it to keep the strap in place. Good times... NOT.



So yes... Peace Chick apologized as she tried to contain her laughter, Butthole kissed the owie once he got over the a. shock and b. anger at my stupidity, and I sat pretty for the rest of the afternoon. Like Peace Chick said, at least now I have a story to tell, though I learned no matter how good her ideas seem, I should never, ever listen to her.

Charitable Julia.

It is done. I have signed up to run The Race for the Cure. I will be running the 5K on May 1st. I will also be donating blood on April 9th.

That is all.

Purpose in life.

I don't go to school. I basically have no life. I work, walk Spazpup, work out, and sleep. That's it. My life is redundant and meaningless. Not that I complain about redundancy. I actually like it. It'd still be nice to have something to do that actually mattered. To have a purpose for the things I do. What do I do, though? I work to pay my bills. I walk my dog so she doesn't destroy my house. I work out so that there's room for others to join me on my couch. I sleep so I don't set this crap hole on fire. It's all so... meaningless. How can I turn any one of those activities into something useful?
Last week I saw a flier at my gym for a 5K race at the end of the month. One of the guys asked me if I was going to sign up. I said "No way! I can't run 5K! That's insane!" As it turns out... I can run 5K. In fact, I did it that very day. 5K is only 3 miles. I thought about it but, really, running isn't a passion of mine or anything. It's just something I do to stay healthy. After thinking about it I went on the website if only to find out the requirements. I would need to pay $40 and get up at 7 Am on a Saturday. Ya...umm..nothanks. It seems kind of pointless since I really don't care for competition, and I already know I can do it. Why pay to run a few miles when I can do it for free on my own?
Then I found out about the Race for the Cure. I really want to do it. I figure if I'm going to get up early and pay a fee to run early on a Saturday morning I rather my money be used for a good cause.
My only problem is that the closest event is in College City and I don't think I have a ride. It's the week right before Butthole's finals so I can't ask him to take me. He would have offered if only it was one week later but it's not the case. I'm also sad because if I can manage to get up there he won't be able to be up there with me since he needs to study. :(
Ideally I need to stay the night over there or else I'm going to need to find a ride at 5:30 AM in order to make it on time. The recent banning is going to make it much harder for me to find a place to stay. Phatty would want to take me and even participate but it's not all too easy for her to request days off from work.
I'll make it happen, though. Somehow I'm going to get my butt up there and run to support Breast Cancer Research.

The banning.

I suppose I ought to elaborate on how I got myself kicked out of Butthole's College City's apartment. I didn't do anything, before you get any ideas.
As I mentioned in previous posts; I went to College City a few weekends ago. I went with T-Bitch and Spaztastic. In all truth, if I may, I went up on that Friday with Adopted Little Brother and his friend. It's all a big secret because we wanted to be able to hang out freely without his parents finding out. Much as I love his sister, she's not one to cover for him. "Sibling code" is non-existent in her book.
That Friday night we went out with Weirdo and Gothic Girlfriend to a party. It was all fun and games until we were on our way home and Butthole got sick. Poor baby couldn't hold it in and we had to pull over. I really need to monitor his intake more closely. At any rate... that night we stayed at Weirdo's place. I ended up sleeping on the couch with Butthole passed out in that other guy's room.
The next day was when I spent my time with him at the community service events.
That evening T-Bitch and Spaztastic arrived. We hung out at Weirdo's and had a good time kicking back and watching "The Life and Times of Tim". That night we went back to Butthole's. I slept in his sister's room, him in his, and Spaztastic and T-Bitch probably nuzzled each other on the couch while no one was looking (haha, gay joke).
The next morning I arose bright and early around 9 (10?) per the usual. Everyone else somehow managed to get up early too, which was actually UNusual. We were all sitting around the living room planning out the day when Hippie comes out of her room and says, with a devilish grin "Uhh... Mom and dad are here. This should be fun." WTF? Ok, Ok, I get it. I can totally see how it'd be fun FOR HER but goodness, woman! Have some compassion. Anyway... His parents are basically around the corner and here I am laying on the couch with him in my darn pajamas. Awk-ward! There went any plans of me showering there. Oh yes, much to Butthole's shock and amazement I wasn't comfortable showering with his parents in the next room. I swear sometimes, for such a smart guy, he can sure think with his butt.
Now I'm rushing to get dressed before they walk in which of course doesn't happen. T-Bitch and Spaztastic bailed before they arrived (of course) and now we're going to church. *Sigh* People asked why didn't I just leave with my friends but let's face it: A. I wasn't dressed and wasn't about to go get dressed in a public bathroom and B. his parents already knew I was there and darn it I had done nothing wrong. Besides being deceitful isn't a way to any one's heart.
That was the most ultimately awkward morning. We went to church and then back to his apartment. We left again and went to the mall. Butthole went back home to study and I spent the rest of the day shopping (woo!).
At some point (I don't remember when) Butthole informed me that neither T-Bitch nor I were allowed at his place from now on. If we ask he has to say "I'm sorry, it's my parent's apartment and they don't wish you to visit." Sigh...
Why T-Bitch, too? On the one hand they've actually never liked him anyway. On the other hand I think it's because they know T-Bitch is usually my ride up to College City and if they ban him then it makes things harder for me to visit. Butthole doesn't agree and thinks I'm getting a bit too self-centered but oh well... You're not really paranoid if they really are out to get you.
So that's that. I can of course still go up to College City; they can't stop me. I can't set foot in his home, though. They are really getting serious.
Oh joy oh joy oh joy. He better do well on the MCAT.

Vuelve el perro arrepentido....

Alright, alright, I'll write. I don't know why I haven't. I guess unless I have something to bitch about I have nothing to say. I say: that's a damn shame. I should have lots of good things to say. Frankly I blame sheer filthy laziness. Anyway... after my last hormonal rampage I've been feeling a lot better. Things are looking decently up even if they aren't up.
My mom and I are still not speaking but so be it. Last week she tried to talk to me as if nothing had ever happened and managed to anger me more than hurt me. I spoke to Nalga and told him we weren't speaking and he asked why. I told him I have no need for a parent who sees me as a burden on her life. There it is. That's how it is. I can't change that. I'm not going to continue to try to force a relationship. Some people want to be miserable. My mom is one of those people. It still sucks, but what am I to do? I watched the movie "Every body's Fine" and it made me cry. It sucks not having a family. It sucks that I don't have a great dad and a great mom. But such is life and I'll move forward. I can only do better.
Phatty and BIL keep fighting and it makes me sad. I hate it and I hate that they aren't happy. I don't care what she says: they aren't happy. I hate that they treat each other poorly and it scares me that the kids might suffer because of it.
Butthole and I are... great. Great, great, great. As good as ever. We talked. We texted. We cried. Ok, I cried. We figured it out. We figured out our problem and the solution and we're going to be fine. It'll be rough but we'll be fine. He's great. We're great. I'm happy. I managed to get myself banned from his apartment in College City but I'm happy.
As for the gym and my fat butt: I've been doing pretty good. I'll get measured again at the end of this week to see my progress on my new work out. I think I may have a lost an inch here and there which is very exciting. Also last week I managed to run 3 miles in 27 min and then some! I'm thinking of signing up to run a 5K. ... Maybe.
I've also been hanging out with Adopted Little Brother which makes me very happy. Last night we went bowling and to Joe's Crab Shack. His friends made me feel old. He turned 19 today. His girlfriend is still in high school. Bleh. I felt like such an old fart.
I finished reading Wuthering Heights and now I'm treating my brain to The Lovely Bones. A much needed literary break for my addled brain. I've been working steadily through the classics and it has been quite a work out. I'm giving my brain a cookie.
Such is my life. There's good; there's bad; there's ugly; but I like it. I'm happy. Things are ok.

Recap and catch up (since I'm not hormonal)

Before I say anything of any consequence I'd like to put a new rule in writing: No blogging while hormonal and while we're at it no thinking, either. Good gracious! What a whine fest the last few posts were. So much pissing and moaning. Insecurity, self-pity, ungratefulness, pettiness: all around it was a gratuitous vomit inducing, self centered sulk fest. Can't have any more of that.
Now that that's out of the way I may begin:

Things with Butthole are reasonably great. Once my mind is cleared I always go back to thinking of how irritatingly fortunate I am to be with him. Irritating for you, not me, of course. I won't get too much into that because let's face it: This blog is supposed to be about ME. :P

I am in College City! Today I went with Butthole to the community service events he attends for the various groups he is a part of at school. We went to a women's shelter and set up some activities for the kids there. It is very hearth breaking, not to mention humbling, to see so many people be so down on their luck. We also went to another place (I believe he said it was a Rescue Mission) where they give free food. It's easy to think of that as "feeding the homeless" but that's not necessarily the case. A lot of people are suffering and hurting for money and resources and it it's just the ones who are living on the street. The economy is putting a lot of people in very hard situations. There is a lot of need in our country and it great to see so many who are willing to give.
Certainly something I'll need to think more about and something I will not allow myself to throw away. This one's is getting filed.

Not feeling it.

I should be thrilled right now. I should, really. Netty, who I haven't seen in like two years, will be here in one week. I will be going to College City next weekend both to visit Butthole and to over-indulge in sushi. What do I have to complain about, right? Nothing, that's what. I feel completely free to blame my hormones at the moment but that doesn't change the way I feel. I am ok now. Mostly neutral. Last night I wasn't ok.
It was kind of sudden, as usual. I don't know what triggered it, as usual. Butthole may have triggered it. Yesterday I woke up out of it as it was. On that note I did something really lame. I told Butthole so. The distance is getting to me (didn't you know?) and I asked him if he could say something nice to me in a non-joking way from time to time. You see, as much as I know he misses me I think it's easier for him to deal with it by joking. He still tells me he misses me but he's not as sweet as he used to be. That's bound to happen, right? It's beena year and a half. The honeymoon's over. I don't want to be in a relationship where I'm not free to talk about my feelings, though, so I told him. He replied with "I love you, I can do that." But he didn't do that... all day. Which, whatever, I guess.
We were on the phone last night I tried to prompt him to say something nice but he didn't bite. Oh well, hints aren't our thing, but I had already been direct so I'm not going to be the fool who begs for affection. Then I got upset. Who knows why. Suddenly I'm on the phone with him and I'm upset. Next thing I know I'm sobbing quietly into the phone. I'm not going to let him hear me cry, though, eff that. So I said good night. You know what he did? He asked me if I was ok. He's far from stupid, and he actually knows me pretty well. He always asks if I'm ok when I'm not- that's certainly not a coincidence. What's the problem, then? The problem is that I said I was fine and we got off the phone. Have you ever been told "If you have to ask..."? That's it. If he asks then he already knows the answer. So why did he get off the phone? I guess he's learned to avoid my "moods." I can't fault him, and I'm not angry. I'm just sad. If he had pushed for an answer I would have given it to him. I don't want him to fix things but I do want him to care. If there was ever a time to say something nice that was it. So I got off the phone and cried.
You know those scenes in movies and shows when they show a dark apartment/house without any music and all you hear is ambient noise? It seems so large and desolate. I swear last night I felt like I was in one of those scenes. Suddenly I was struck by the largest feeling of loneliness and emptiness. Suddenly my apartment felt empty and vast and hollow. I was alone. I was so alone. For a moment I thought of my death. My death by any means. I wasn't contemplating suicide. I just thought "What if I died right now?" For the life of me I couldn't picture anyone grieving. Normally when I feel really depressed and like death is the only release I can easily deflect the idea because I can see how distraught all of my loved ones would be. Last night, for the first time, I just couldn't see it. I pictured Butthole sort of standing there being told I was dead and him not so much as flinching. It wasn't denial, either, it was pure indifference. Phatty would be too busy to care. Nalga would be too far away to be concerned. Mom would never find out because she's not talking to me and no one would bother to tell her since it's not important. Little Brother would continue to be himself. Then it was gone. I wasn't better but I was over that low point. I was laying there having other thoughts. Some happy, some random, some neutral. That was it. The moment passed.
Maybe I should look into that B12 supplement... mood swings like that can't be healthy. Obviously there's an underlying cause and the feelings come from a real place, but I shouldn't let them consume me like that.
I wonder if I simply repressed the sadness or if I truly let it go. I tend to do that, I think. If my life was a cartoon you'd see a close up of my brain and a growth singing "I'm a tumor I'm a tumor I'm a tumor" (that's from Family Guy, people!).
Oh yes. I shouldn't gloss over that, I guess: My mom and I aren't speaking again. This time it's pretty serious. That words "get the eff out of my life" may have come out of my mouth. I just wish today's entry from Sleep Talking Man had been posted before. It would have been better if I'd said it like he did: "Hey, I've got a great idea. You f*** off out of my life forever. Perfect!" At least then I would have made a humorous grand exit as opposed to my dramatic one. Alas! I'm Latin... I suppose I was made for drama.
Am I ok? No. But right now I can't get in tune with my devastation. It's there, believe me, but I wouldn't knock you for doubting me. It's hard to believe someone so stoic when they tell you they're distraught. Phatty asked me if I was ok when I told her. I said "No", of course. But I left it at that. Why talk about something that can't be fixed. Butthole didn't ask. I don't think he believes he needs to ask. I think he thinks I'm fine. I don't think he believes me when I say I'm bothered by my rocky relationship with my mom. Oh well... He's not often bothered by anything I feel. Oh well.
So I'm just not feeling it right now. Life, that is. I can't find it in me to be bothered either way. No crying. No laughing. Just good ol' repression for me. Hopefully my head doesn't blow up.

Selfish Julia: Reporting for duty!

Eleven minutes. That's how long I got to talk to Butthole last night. That's how long I got to talk to him all day, actually. Does that suck? It sure does, Captain! But complaining about that isn't what makes me selfish, in fact, that's a pretty valid complaint, I think.
What makes me selfish is that I'm slightly (and I really do mean that, this is certainly a mole-hill not a mountain and I'm not going to make it otherwise) bothered by how unapologetic Butthole is. That's not true. He apologizes- always. He actually started this morning by apologizing so that was a poor choice of words. What bothers me is that he seems unfazed by our lack of time together- on the phone or otherwise. Sure, he wasn't eager to get off the phone last night or anything. Of course he didn't blow me off when I ranted about the weirdo talking about make-up on TV last night. Most of the time he even sounds a little sad that we have to get off the phone, and I really do believe him when he tells me he likes to listen to me rant about whatever latest useless topic I'm going off about. My beef is with his lack of voicing his concern.
That's how he is, I know it. He's the type to not talk about things he can't change. Where is complaining going to get him? If it doesn't get him anywhere he doesn't do it. Though maybe he isn't concerned at all. I wish he was at least a little concerned. A little bothered. A little... guilty (I am such a bitch for even saying that). Not in a "he's doing something wrong" way- not at all. But just... I don't know... Sometimes I feel a bit neglected... there. I said it. I wish he felt a little bad about that. I know I would. But that's on me, obviously.
He cares about me. He loves me. All of this I know. To pretend otherwise for the sake of my misery would be insane. Like I said, this is but a mole hill. I'm not even considering bringing it up to him because it's really not a big deal.
Does he even feel like he's neglecting me? I'll be honest here: The answer is... probably not. I can't complain, though. We aren't "serious." I am not his top priority. This I know. If I choose to make him MY priority then that's on me. I knew what I was getting myself into when I started dating him. I knew he had more going on in his life than me and I knew that all those things came first. No only chronologically but on his priority list. That's ok. It has to be ok because it's not going to change. And if we stay together it's not going to change for a very, very long time.
Am I willing to put myself through that? Do I want to come second? For now- yes. It's worth it. I can deal with it. Yes, maybe I'm deluding myself that it's worth it. Or maybe I'm deluding myself that I'm deluding myself. Maybe this is normal. Maybe this is how it has to be. Maybe this is how it is for everyone. For now I'm going to make my own rules. My own rules for me. I'm not going to worry about how other couples do it. For now I'll be number two. If it bites me in the butt later... well... such is life.

Couldn't you afford a better dentist?

Oh celebrities and the frightening ways in which they alter their bodies to achieve perfection. Well, it's not just celebrities, but since I don't live somewhere like LA or NYC I don't ever see botched plastic surgery procedures and facials gone wrong. Anyway, it's scary enough going on awfulplasticsurgery.com and browsing but when you are at the gym and you catch a glimpse of season 9 of Scrubs, your used-to-be favorite show, and you catch a glimpse of Donald Faison's horrifyingly huge, poorly done, overly white veneers it's just sad. Here's a video where you'll get a first-rate look at the ginormous Chiclets that have replaced Donald's old smallish, but normal, teeth:

Good grief! He's even lisping! Can you see the weird way his mouth moves now? I wonder how his lips felt when they were unceremoniously kicked out of their usual residence and shoved half an inch forward. Why would he do that? Gosh and I used to think he was so hot. Plus come on dude! You've already had ortho, why would you throw all that braces time away? For shame!

Seriously, he makes enough money to find himself a good dentist. Is this seriously the best he could do? Did he think no one would notice? Hello? You've been in show business for over a decade- people know your face. People! Learn from Jennifer Grey! Oh, you don't know who that is? Think "Baby" in Dirty Dancing. Have you see that nose since the 80's? No. you haven't, and you haven't seen her because of that insane nose job that ruined her career. Come on Donald! Didn't you ever watch Friends when Ross over-did the bleaching? That's the best your money could buy? How embarrassing.

That is that. I'm just horrified.

No time for love?

Alright, time to spill some insecurities so I don't throw up all over Butthole and burden him unnecessarily.
Butthole is busy. BUSY BUSY BUSY. He is taking the MCAT this year and he doesn't have time to be messing around. Last night I got off the phone with him telling him I'd rather he study than waste his time talking to me. It's the right thing to do, right? ...right?
I don't want him to see me as his mother so maybe it's not my place to tell him to study. I still think I should. We don't spend so much time together, though, is it such a crime if we talk for a bit before we go to bed or watch a movie on the weekends? I mean, it's not like he's going to spend all 24 hours of the day studying but, should he be focusing his time more on school and less on me? I hardly see him, really, so I guess I'm already pretty low on his priority list. Should I be lower? Can we keep it going? Should we keep it going? Does he have time to love me, still? Since he's isn't going to study all day is it ok if he spends his breaks with me?
Bleh... I guess if things fizzle there won't be anything I can do... I wish I knew if he thinks about these things. Sometimes I think he's too busy to think about us. Or maybe he's just so confident in our relationship that he doesn't worry. If only...
Bleh... I need a hobby.

But he picks up poop for me and that's what matters.

Let's not even get into people who whine about their problems to columnists... frankly, because if it wasn't for them I wouldn't have anything to look forward to on Thursdays except for doing the laundry. Anyway... here's one that I can talk about from Dear Prudie (from Slate.com):

Dear Prudie,
I am a
32-year-old single mother of a teenager, and
I
have been dating a great guy for
the past year. He is my age and has no
kids. Most of my relationships haven't
lasted more than a few months.
This
guy is perfect in many respects. He
constantly tells me he loves
me, gets
along with my son, helps me around my
house, plans his weekends
to include
me, and has introduced me to his family.
The problem is that
in the past
year he has never bought me flowers. I know it
may seem
petty, but it's
something I think shows a woman that a man was thinking
about her throughout
the day and that he appreciates her. I have
mentioned to
him how much this
bothers me, but it doesn't seem to
change. Should I be
concerned?

—Flowerless

Dear Flowerless,
Elizabeth Barrett
Browning
understood how you feel. In her exquisite
"Sonnet 44," which begins,
"Belovèd, thou hast brought me many flowers," the
poet writes of how the
blossoms from her lover have taken root in her own
soul. However, reviewing
your
situation, here is the first line of my
sonnet to you: "Flowerless,
thou art out
of thy blooming mind." You were
a teenage mother who has been
alone nearly the
entirety of your son's
life. Now, you have someone who
loves you, takes care of
you and your
son, and offers you the possibility of
building a life together—and
you're hectoring him because he doesn't conform
to some horticultural
cliché
you've invested with disproportionate meaning.
My sonnet for you
ends thusly:
"Forget the flowers, lest ye be
boyfriendless."

—Prudie

This made me think: Butthole has never bought me flowers. I'd love to get flowers, sure, but I feel indifferent if I don't. And so no one jumps on the whole "Oh yea!? But does your boyfriend know you like flowers?" I'd like to say that yes, Butthole knows I like flowers. He actually knows (and brags about knowing) what my favorite flower is. It's weird because even though we've never talked about it I can understand why he doesn't get them for me and why he never will. He's not the cliche romantic type of guy. For that matter, cliched displays of romance don't do it for me, anyway.
I'm the type of girl that's more moved by her guy doing the dishes after dinner than diamonds or moonlit walks. It's not to say I don't like those things but you know... "meh." I do like being thought of, really. But I'd melt if Butthole got me a bouquet of white lilies just as I would if he brought me some dandelions from the park. Romance is simply not in him, though.
Yet I don't feel like our relationship lacks in the "awwww" moments. We are a funny sort of couple, anyway. PDA isn't our style. Fine dining isn't for us. We don't call each other "babe" and "baby" or post pictures of ourselves kissing on MySpace. It's just not "us."
Even without the flowers Butthole hardly fails to display his affection, though, that's for sure. He puts up with me, for one, which is saying quite something since I am a rather large, overflowing bag of cuckoo. He does show it other ways other than by not strangling me. He's definitely into showing it physically. No, not in that way, punk! I'm talking about hugging, kissing, hand holding etc. It works for me because I love it :) He'll occasionally do the dishes after I cook for him or take out the trash for me but it's not very often, though I notice every time and smile.
My favorite story: I was sick a few months ago and Spazzpup needed to go to the bathroom. Butthole took her out for me and when I peeked out the window he was standing there with a baggie in his hand ready to pick up after her. It would take an afternoon for me to fully explain just how much Butthole hates poop but trust me: It really grosses him out- more than most. The fact that he was willing to pick up after Spazzpup seriously said more than any bouquet of flowers.
Point is: The chick from the letter is crazy. If giving her flowers is the only way her boyfriend will be able to prove his love then that guy is in for a tough ride. In the past flowerless year and a half Butthole has displayed his love in more ways than I can count so oh well... Flowers would be nice... but he's willing to pick up poop for me.