Archive for July, 2007

Serious Stuff

Posted: July 19, 2007 in Old Blogs

.. so y’know.

99% of the time I’m a silly simple ass who doesn’t take the things I can’t change too seriously… I go with the flow, manage the damage and am fiercy loyal to the people I care about.

And even though sometimes I have a mouth on me… and can be hard-headed and fiery and left of center, I’m basically a good egg.

But y’know.. there’s an Italian proverb:


Seems as though it was written specifically for me because although, outwardly, everyone thinks I’m a pillar of positive attitude and always on over drive, the truth is is that there’s alot of things that work on my head that reside right below the surface.

I’ve been through alot. Too much, I think sometimes. And the fact that I didn’t become a homicidal maniac or a heroin addict because of it is just a testament to my inner strength.

I wrestle with alot of crap. Self esteem issues… trust issues.. stuff like that but normally I don’t put it out there for public display. I’ve become an expert at compartmentalizing stuff… just sticking it in a box in the back of my brain and duct taping it over.

Don’t have any problems answering any question asked of me. My life may have been hard.. it may have affected me in a not-so-good way but I’m not embarassed by it. It made me the person that I am today and I kinda dig this person.

So why did all this come up now?

I kind of played hooky from work. Well, not really because even thought I’m not in the office I am working so… Anyway.. I was jumping around the internet and I happen to stumble upon a blog written by a guy who suffered irreversible brain trauma from a drug overdose.

Even though I’ve never indulged in the chemicles, I know alot of people who have and still are so it isn’t foreign to me. But what really pulled me into this guy’s story was the fact that he used to be abusive.

That kind of struck a cord because for too long, I was married to Satan, I was on the receiving end of the 4 horseman of abuse… physical, mental, verbal and emotional.

There were times when cops came to our house and we both were equally bloody, bruised and scratched up that they didn’t know which one to haul in.

I’ve been called every derogatory name under the son… fat, ugly, stupid, pig, bitch, worthless, useless, etc, etc, etc.

I’ve been on the receiving end of drunking rages … yelled at nose-to-nose with such force that it almost felt like I was standing in a wind tunnel.. have been spit on :: which I actually think is the most degrading thing you can ever do to another person ::.. had a shotgun held to my chest.. had a sword held to my throat.. been punched in the face.. in the solar plexus.. in the kidneys… I’ve been put in financial debt.. had all my posessions trashed :: including two of my dogs ashes :: … cars wrecked.. been lied to… stolen from.. and anything else you could probably think of or even imagine.

How did I put up with all that? Well.. the mind is a funny thing, is all I can say. I started doing one thing in particular that I’m not prepared now to expose but suffice it to say that if you were interested enough to see certain things on my body, the answer is pretty apparent. I’m neither proud of it or embarassed about it. It just was what it was and I don’t do it any longer so to me, it’s a dead issue.

Why did I stay? The only answer I have to that is that when you have the kind of heart that I do… when you’re used to putting other people ahead of yourself and when you blindly believe that there is good in everyone :: even when it’s buried so deep you’d never uncover it :: I guess you start to “understand” too much and give out excuses on a silver platter.

Or you just don’t want to believe you were wrong.

Don’t know… I only know that I’m not the kind of person that backs down from anything and that may have been part of the problem when involved with a control freak.

I don’t refer to him as SATAN for nothing.

But yknow what? For all that bullshit I went through.. I’m ok.

The other day I was talking to D about something and I mentioned that I couldn’t wait until the whole house situation is over with and then I can put a period.. turn the page.. and burn the book.

D :: who went through his own drama with his ex :: said something .. can’t remember verbatim.. but basically that even though things had turned ugly it wasn’t all bad and you have to hold on to that.. or something to that affect.

I understand where he’s coming from.. but I think I can still burn the book but remember that I read it.

I normally don’t look back on my life with regret. I am who I am because of the things that I went through. I’m where I’m suppose to be because of the path that I took. And like I said.. I dig the person I am.

So it’s all good… and honestly :: hehe :: this whole post went completely into left field from where it was suppose to go!!  LOL!! Oh well!! 8^)

¸.•..¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•.. (¸.•.. .•.. ¸¸.•¨¯..•. I’m dangerous with time on my hands, huh?

Chipmonk Cheeks

Posted: July 18, 2007 in Old Blogs

So today :: yesterday? Damn.. really need to do this posts at a reasonable hour! :: I went into work all smiley and goofy and silly. Basically the polar opposite of the day before when I was getting all estrogened out on the post-punk drum banging music I was listening to :: yea, that was still totally bizarre ::

It did not go unnoticed!

Bons… :: the coolest cubice neighbor this particular chick could have :: gets right up in the Kool Aid and says, “… YOU saw R last  night, didntcha?”

I nodded my head saying “I did! I did!” with these chipmonk cheeks blazing all across the second floor of the corporate offices. :: Yea.. okay.. told her justthismuch more then I’m letting on here :: and she was like “… well, you better bottle it because you were a miserable bitch yesterday!”

That’s what I love about the Bons… right from the hip!

So needless to say… it was a very, very good day. Even if I was at work. Even have to content with the brain tumored mother fucker who insisted on irking the shit out of me all day :: that’s a whole other post! :: Nothing was getting under my skin…

And yea.. I think there’s some residual chipmonk still lingering around!

¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•. heh!

Today… Or Yesterday?

Posted: July 17, 2007 in Old Blogs

… that being Monday so I guess technically it IS yesterday but since I haven’t been to sleep yet it’s still “today” to me…

Oh at any rate…

Y’know… don’t really know what was going on today. Maybe it’s the some synthetic hormonal thing but I was such a freakin’ chick today…  all emotional about the silliest stuff.. my freakin mind taking unchartered detours on it’s own… too bloody bizarre..

I mean.. I was getting misty eye’d listening to The Alarm’s “Spirit of 76” for Christ sakes! And forget Midge Ure’s “.. If I Was”. That about did me in at 8:10 in the am… so needless to say, it was a pretty long day!

I really got to cut that crap  out!! :)

At any rate.. wound up being that R called sometime in the late afternoon and I had the opportunity to hang out with him for a few hours.. laughing my silly little head off :: “gluboblobbin” and “medievil strip” is still making me pee myself :: Needless to say, I had a great time :: as usual :: … he has this ability to just turn my day around.

So I come home and again it’s the 45 minute drive-around-the-block a million times looking for a freaking parking spot. The more I think about it.. the more I definately am going to convince my mom that she needs to get a handicapped placard so that I can screw up my neighbors best laid plans and park in their spots.

BECAUSE you see… little known fact is that even though YOU may have a handicapped placard and YOU might have the reserved handicapped spot in front of your house.. that does NOT mean that that reserved handicapped spot is reserved specifically FOR you..

No.. no.. no.. it’s reserved for a HANDICAPPED person. ANY handicapped person.. it’s just tribal legend and fear that prevents other people from utilizing it.

So yea.. gotta work on her.

¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•. heh.. ME!

Anyway.. it’s about time I tank out and dream the good dream


Posted: July 15, 2007 in Old Blogs




MAN!! I just really need to throw something right now! Where the HELL is the stress ball when you need one!!

So.. okay…

Alittle while ago.. after I got done all my rantings and ravings, I was going to hop into the shower and do the girly thing to get ready for work tomorrow.

It dawns on me that I can’t actually take a shower with my mother’s company still sucking down coffee and cannollis :: well, I COULD be there’s only one bathroom in the house and SO didn’t want to go there :: so I figured I may as well go stock up on cigarettes and gas.

Now.. it’s always an adventure driving around the ghetto at night. Especially a hot, humid night when the Phils lost their 10,000th game but a gal gotta do what a gal gotta do. Since I normally get gas to or from work, it also dawns on me :: there’s alotta “dawnin'” going on isn’t there! :: that even though there’s a Asian nail salon on every corner… and Indian grocery store on every OTHER corner.. gas stations are few and far between.

Also realize that I don’t have any actual cash on me. That’s not really that unusual. My debit card is my best friend but in situation like this.. it’s better just having the paper on you.

So I drive over to the closests banks ATM :: which happens to be my bank :: pull out a $20… do some creative driving across the parking lot to get to the all night pharmacy… side stepped the no-legged dude near the entrance jingling his Dixie cup outside… patiently :: but no so patiently :: waited for the yuppie couple to grill the cashier about which was the better digital thermometer :: OH the visuals I could have had!! :: and then contended with the Vietnamese dude buying up about 20 cases of soda that was on sale:: that you KNOW he’s going to sell at full price in his corner grocery store :: bitching about why there was a limit to how many he could buy.

By the time I got to the cashier and only asked for a pack of Marlboro Lights box.. AND had cash.. I think she was just about to offer me her first born.. or seventh :: she looked like that kinda gal! ::

So I get out of there. I got a reprieve from the no-legged dude because some ass was actually arguing with him so I was able to scoot by unnoticed.

Now the real dilemna was… do I travel the extra 5 miles to get gas that’s about 3 cent cheaper or do I just stay local and give up the 3 cent?

My gage was probably at half of a quarter tank.. and I have about a 12 gallon tank so do the math. 36 cents wasn’t going to put me in the poverty house. In fact, I bet I have at least 36 dollars in change underneath the car seat!

So I drive over to the closest gas station and begin to do my thing. Now.. I am aware enough of my surroundings to not get caught between a gang war shoot out but other then that… I tend to not get too involved in what other people are doing.

I’m standing there.. leaning against my clown car when I hear someone call out, “.. well, look who it is.”

I don’t budge. Don’t even flex a muscle. Even though I know alot of people in the neighborhood.. I actually haven’t been back in the neighborhood that long for someone to recognize me.

Or so I thought.


I turn around and who is parked directly across from my clown car? Chris D.

Now just let me back up alittle here so you get the full scope of my angst.

Chris D and I dated from 1986 to 1987. Well… “date” is a loose term especially since he started running on me with his ex after like.. the first month or something.

But I hold no grudge. So what that he was the first guy to break my heart. It’s been like, 20 years so… it’s been “gotten over” with.

Anyway.. so I didn’t really have to pretend to act surprised. I was and give him a “Hey! How are you!” greeting.

There is safety when two cars stand between you and the person who shredded you. But it’s been like, 20 years so.. it’s been “gotten over” with.

He says he’s fine and there’s this uncomfortable silence. What do you really say? Me..  not being one for uncomfortable silences.. but definately at a loss on how to fill it stays with the niceties and says, “… you look good.”

Actually.. he didn’t. A fact that I neither felt bad about or relished in. It was just something safe to say.

Or so I thought.

He makes this nodding Yea-I-Know-I-Do face and returns with, “.. .well I can’t say the same about you.”

Immediately a million and one things go through my mind.

While I may not be the size 9… bleached blond long hair wearing… blue eyeliner smudging.. skirt so short you could see the tampon string wearing chick I was when I was 22.. I am certainly NOT the size 24.. 265lb chin hanging down to my ankles girl I was when he last saw me at a mutual friends funeral when I was 32.

Can I just reiterate that one last fact…

I am SO NOT ANYWHERE NEAR 265lbs anymore…

Anyway.. I wasn’t the one who stood him up more then picked him up.. I’m not the one who told him my step father’s wake was the day after it really was :: guess he thought I didn’t read obituaries since I was then a blond :: I wasn’t the one who did all the things that would make someone still hold a grudge after 20 years.

How do you respond to that? If I said, “.. well, I lied. You really don’t either.” it would just have come off as me back peddling and being bitchy.

Even though it is the truth.

So I took the high road. Grinned.. shook my head and said, “.. you’re still a trip”. Got in my car and took off.

But it did bother me. Still does. Still don’t know why. I guess having heard everything I heard during my marriage being drilled into me on a semi-daily basis still has some residual affect. I mean… logically, I know that his cutting me down at the knees was more about boosting his self esteem by trashing mine and even though it hurt then.. and sometimes still does.. I just lock it away in the deepest part of my brain and not let it see the light.

Until nights like tonight when the universe is tilted just at the right angle to let that little bit of self doubt seep through the tracks.

But fuck ’em… I know who I am

¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•.  Leese


Gastronomically Challenged

Posted: July 15, 2007 in Old Blogs

Okay.. so before I even begin this, I don’t want to make any assumptions. Do you all know what a blood orange is?

Sometimes called a Tarocco (the Italian variety) or a Sanguilanello (the Spanish variety) Orange.

This is the orange that is red inside:

They’re really good if you’ve never tasted them

Anyway.. you now know they exist and you know what they look like.

Getting on with it…

So my mom was having company tonight so she asked me to take a ride over to the super market and pick up stuff that she normally doesn’t keep in the house.

That’s misleading… other then the Hungry Man frozen dinner from 1975 and a can of crushed pineapple that swollen with botulism, she doesn’t “keep” anything in the house.

At any rate.. so I go and I hit the snack aisle for her. While I’m there I happen to notice that this particular super market is carrying a line of Italian soda.. complete with real fruit.

You know where I’m going with this, dontcha?

There happen to be two teenage girls of a different ethnicity :: hey.. it’s the politest way I can put it :: in the same aisle. One happens to notice the Italian soda. She happens to notice the Italian soda named SICILIAN BLOOD ORANGE.

All of a sudden you  hear this … this … shriek that probably sent dolphins all over the world into a choreographed spasm..


She then procedes to call over her girlfriend, “…YA GOTTSA SEE DIS.. YA GOTTSA SEE DIS” she yells holding up the Sicilian Blood Orange soda complete with settled red sediment.

The girlfriend moseys :: really, that’s the only word for it :: over. “.. Whatchuwant?”


The other girl saw what she was holding and started screaming herself, “… PUT IT DOWN PUT IT DOWN YOU GONNA CATCH SUMTPIN FROM DAT BLOOD”

I literally had one of those cross-your-knees-to-keep-from-peeing-yourself laughter fits.

If they had lingered longer, I would have went down the aisle, excused myself.. grabbed a bottle.. open it and take a nice long swig out of it but they high tailed it so fast out of the aisle, you’d think the Prince of Darkness was behind them.

Good laugh though

¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•. Leese