After All

I've spent that last few hours reading and commenting on my blog subscriptions.  All of you guys are so busy, and so productive, I feel like I've accomplished nothing.  Although, that is sort of a lie because after all- I moved across the country and am starting all over again.

It's overwhelming.  It's weird sleeping in my "high school" bedroom, surrounded by walls I painted at the end of a disastrous relationship to cover up memories, hanging out with people the remind me of everything that made me leave Michigan in the first place.  Sometimes I feel like the only thing that has changed is- well, me.

My mom and I have never been best friends, which is sad to me.  All of my high school friends' parents loved me and I always called them Mom.  Maybe it's disrespectful to my own mother, but it is how it is.  My mom has not changed at all, despite how everyone tried convincing me otherwise.  She is still an alcoholic, she still resents me, she still picks on every detail she can't stand about me, or (as I've recently discovered) is jealous of.  She is constantly bringing up the size of my chest in front of people to embarrass me or make me feel bad.  My aunt was one of the people there, and she just whispered in my ear, "Your mom is just jealous because she has no boobs."  And it hit me- it's true.  My own mother is jealous of me because I have curves and she never has.  I still don't get it, though.  She will be 46 years old this year- isn't it time to get over these things?  Apparently not. Old habits die hard- or rather don't die at all.

My oldest younger brother (he turned 24 in July) also has resentment towards me for some reason.  I do not get it.  He was the most popular guy in high school.  No one knew who I was, but he was homecoming prince, and prom king.  He was student body president.  He broke the record for our school for most strikeouts thrown in one season (baseball).  He is tall, and handsome, and everyone likes him.  Yet, he still feels it necessary to make me feel like crap every time we hang out.  We had our yearly family reunion this past weekend, and there is always a big party.  We had a fire, and we invited some of our own friends, and our Canadian family was there, and it was supposed to be fun.  I had fun until suddenly my brother verbally attacked me in front of everyone, yelling at me and saying the most awful things ("you're worthless," "you're a drama queen," "you're fucking crazy," bringing attention to the scars on my arms and legs, etc).  Finally a few of his friends actually had to tell him to shut up, but ten minutes later he had me by the arm and was trying to wrestle me to the ground.

I'm 25 years old.  I don't play these games anymore.  Maybe it was cute when we were little kids to wrestle and beat each other up, but it's not anymore.  I took it that way, too.  We were both pretty inebriated, but I fought him off, and I actually ended up pinning him to the ground and he had to tell me to get off.  I don't know how, since I'm 5'1 and about 20 pounds lighter since moving back here, and he is 6' and 185, but I did.  Everyone was laughing at him and telling him he shouldn't mess with me because that's what he gets.

Later on though, I ended up walking home, sitting on my bedroom floor, and crying my eyes out.  My mom came out and got into it with us, and she stood on his side, telling me I'm a cry baby and drama queen as well.  It's just so much to take on.  I cut myself for the first time since February.  I regret it now, because I thought I was beyond all this, but I suppose the issues are much deeper than I realized.  A few years away and some therapy haven't cure the feelings of insignificance and worthlessness I have when it comes to my mom and my brother.

It's sad that my youngest brother (17) is the person that understands me most and is now the one closest to me, even though there is a big age gap and I missed most of his teenage years.  I just can't figure out how to fix the messes around me.  In Phoenix it was with my ex and my step mom.  Here it's my mom and my brother.  It doesn't help that I really do need emotional support.  I'm beginning to think that I should apply for social security temporarily, because the unstableness makes it hard for me to even get out of bed some days.

I'm happier than I have been, but it's still not happy enough to enjoy everyday things, or just accomplish the smallest tasks.  I suppose I'm going to work on getting into therapy here, and hopefully, I'll be able to at least mend the pieces and stop anymore from breaking off.

For A Good Cause

I'm only posting this link because I know this person well and feel awful I cannot help her out.  We grew up in the same neighborhood when we were younger and we just recently met up again, and she is having some hard luck.  After going through everything I just went through this last year, I told her to set up a donation site.  A lot of good people helped me get home, and I am safe and sound here now, and I'm just really hoping it works for her.  So, go here and read what she had to say, and then spread the word around if you can.  I'm going to try to keep tabs if I can.

I know that blogger is a supportive community for those of us having hard times. Please pass this on for me.

Times Change

It's been a minute since I posted on here.  As soon as I can, I'm going to get that laptop fixed and get some Internet!

Nothing new, nothing exciting going on.  Sometimes things are good, sometimes they are bad.  I'm just kinda hanging in the shadows up here in northern Michigan.  A lot has happened but I'll wait until I can really write about it to say.

Sorry I am not around much to post comments, I promise as soon as I get my computer up and running I will be all over your blogs!

What A Conundrum

I've been in Michigan a little more than a month now.  Things are alright, so far.  I have been spending a lot of time with my nieces and nephew, my brothers, and my sister-in-law.  I am staying with my mom and stepdad, for now, and hopefully I'll land a job soon.  I'm not quite sure what I wanna do yet, but I hope to be on my feet by fall.  Early winter, at latest.  I'm not enjoying depending on other people for rides and the like right now.  However, it is better being here, surrounded by my family and friends than in Phoenix, miserable and alone 99% of the time.

I guess I miss Chris a little more than I expected to.  Although I've kept busy and rarely have a spare moment to myself, at night I find myself thinking about him and it is hard.  The morning I left Phoenix he sounded as if he really was sad, and that he wanted to stay in touch, and he even told me he would try to visit this winter.  Now he is completely mean.  He told me not to text him anymore, and that he will send me my stuff as soon as he can, and that he wants me out of his life.  I have no idea where this harshness came from.  I thought we were ending everything on good terms.  It just wasn't meant to be.  However, I still wanted to remain friends, even if it is only once in a while, via text or whatever.  I don't get why he suddenly had a change of heart.  It makes me sad because he was a part of my life, and I do love him.  I didn't think we would just suddenly never talk or see each other again.  The worst part is that he still has my bunnies, so I have to deal with his attitude until I can have them sent out here. 

On a slightly better note, I have a slight thing for someone.  Thing meaning, I'm not sure what it can be because I don't know how I feel about anything.  However, when I was still in Phoenix, I had been corresponding with an old classmate since December.  He was stationed in Kuwait at the time, but we both flew into the same airport in Michigan on the same day, only three hours apart.  We decided we would get together while he was here for a couple weeks.  At the time we were talking, he was into this girl that lived here, but she apparently blew him off when he arrived, and he was not so happy.  I felt terrible because he did nothing but talk about her on Facebook and he told me they were so much alike, it just seemed right.  She is very, very young, though.  He didn't really go into a lot of detail about the situation, but the night we decided to get together he basically told me she had decided to move in with her ex and failed to mention it to him. 

He doesn't follow my usual trend in taste for guys.  I always vowed to never date a man in the military (my reasons are valid).  I have nothing against the men, personally- I just have never wanted to live the military lifestyle.  This guy, though- I'll call him S- is a bit different.  I'm not even sure sometimes I really like it; I just know that we sort of understand each other, and we both led rough lives as kids.  We have the same beliefs, we like the same things.  He has a very serious demeanor, though, whereas I'm bubbly and goofy and laugh nonstop most of the time.  He has a good sense of humor, just doesn't laugh out loud a lot or smile.  I get it, though.  I brought it up to him once that sometimes I don't know if he thinks I'm hilarious or a dumb ass.  He told me pointe blank, I think you are hilarious, even if it is dumb ass humor you have.  It was actually a compliment!  He calls me "Doll" and "Love" a lot.  Which could just be something he calls all girls/women that he adores, for all I know.  However, I still find it sweet. 

We got together about a week after we both got back to Michigan.  We ended up going to his parents house for the night, to have drinks, watch movies, listen to music, and talk.  It was fun.  We talked about everything.  I was a little nervous, a little ditzy, and drank a little too much.  He did too, though, and nothing terrible happened.  I did not go crazy (well, in a bad way, anyway), although I was loud.  I'm always loud.  I don't know how to train myself to be quiet.  How is it done?  His parents live down the road from my sister-in-law (that is a story for another time, I'll say), so I told him he could just drop me off there.  She invited him to stay a while, and so he did.  My nieces and nephew were there, and he was SO good with them.  My youngest niece adored him.  She usually cries around new people, especially men, being as she's only 8 months old.  But she didn't cry at all.  He held her and played with her and it was so endearing.  I have never had the ambition to have kids someday, but it was still sweet watching him with them, and knowing he would probably be a good dad.  (Isn't that one of the things a woman is supposed to look for in a man?) 

He stuck around for the night, and we had a few drinks and a fire and some music.  My sister-in-law liked him, which is good, because usually she can usually tell if someone is an asshole or not.  He ended up leaving around midnight, and I walked him to his truck.  He gave me a hug, and he kissed my forehead.  That was when I was thrown for a loop.  A kiss on the forehead is usually a sign of affection, correct?  I told Pam, and she thought it was sweet and probably meant he liked me, and thought of me as more than just you know...a piece of ass or whatever.  And that made me feel like a million dollars.  Chris never kissed my forehead.  Not once in almost two years.

He was only here to pack up the rest of his things, because he has duty in Washington for a year.  So we saw each other once more, and then he was busy the rest of the time.  We have talked on the phone, and have texted almost everyday.  I try to give it a rest, since I don't want to seem desperate, needy, or clingy.  I'm not any of those things.  I do enjoy talking to him.  We always have something to talk about.  He never seems annoyed, even if I do drunk text him nonsense (I have a thing for lyrics from 80's butt rock songs).  He always says, "Sweet dreams [doll/love]."  I do not want a relationship currently.  I have too much to do and think about to have to worry about giving someone else enough attention.  Plus, he is in Washington for a year.  In a way, it is sort of good.  There isn't so much pressure on either side. 

One of the best parts- he's a musician.  He plays guitar and writes songs.  I've always had a weakness for musicians.  I've only dated two or three non-musicians.  I just find it so sexy.  So even though he doesn't fit my usual canvas for a guy, he still has traits I totally fall for.  Which makes it that much harder.  Sigh.  Maybe it isn't what I should be thinking about right now, but is it so wrong for me to want it?  I'm 25.  I know to some it doesn't seem so old.  But when I look around and see all of my friends settling down, getting married, having kids, it makes me feel as if I'm still living my high school years.  I know that it isn't rational.  Everyone goes at their own pace.  I'm not ready to settle down and I'm not ready for marriage nor kids.  In fact, I've never wanted kids.  At one time I wanted to be married, but since the first time it failed, I've been slightly wary of the whole thing.  Now I look at myself, and wonder if I'm really going to end up alone for the next 20 years because I've been so anti-marriage and kids.  I do not want to be alone, but I know that I need someone who can deal with my mood swings, my crazy lifestyle, and wants the same things as I do.  And that doesn't come easily.

I suppose I shall end this here.  My niece is getting into cookies and my nephew just woke up.  Time to be an aunt and a good babysitter.

I really need to get mobile internet but I can't afford it right now. I took a picture of heart shaped cheese then realized I couldn't send it. This saddens me.

Sweet Home Michigan, yeah!

I do not have much time to post, as I am actually using a friend's computer.  But I will tell you this-

I finally made it home to Michigan.  YES!  I did.  However, I'm mighty sad it was sans bunnies.  :(  I still have to find a way to get them here soon.  Hopefully I'll land a job, and be able to have them with me by the end of July.  I didn't realize how expensive bunnies are to fly or ship.  Chris has them in his new apartment safe and sound so.

I just wanted to say that.  Hope everyone is doing great!

Still In Desperate Times

I just wanted to post my most desperate blog yet.  Don't judge me.

My cable got shut off.  So this means-

1) I have no TV
2) I have no Internet
3) I have no phone

Once again I am like a hermit.  Therefore, I won't be able to keep posting links for people to help me out.  Seriously, it's getting bad.  The ex I live with is refusing to help pay for any of my living expenses, and I can't even call my mom to let her know what is going on without spending five dollars at a pay phone- I don't even HAVE five dollars.  Not to mention, my one good bra broke the other day, and seriously, this one incident sent me into a downward spiral to depression.  Why?  Well, how would you feel if you only own one bra that was two sizes too small and cut off circulation, therefore leaving you panting all day and sore when you finally take it off?

I hate being a beggar, but at this point in time, I don't even care.  I am at a friend's house using her computer, so hopefully people will see this, and help me out.  Even donating five bucks will help.  Donate Here to help me out.  Please, I'm on my knees, begging you, as pitiful as it sounds.

Desperately Panicked-
Nicolette

Juj-Style Stuffed French Toast

A friend wanted the recipe for the French toast I made the other day, and because I sort of guessed at everything, I don't have exact measurements or instructions.  But- if you know even a hair about baking you should be fine with the following recipe.  As always with baking, you don't need exact measurements because it isn't an exact science.  So you your best judgements. 

So, depending how many people you are going to be feeding, you have to adjust all of my guestimates. I made four pieces and one piece is two pieces of bread, plus the filling. One is enough for one person.

You will need:
Thick or heavy bread (Italian or raisin bread works)
Eggs (3+, depending on faces you are serving)
Milk
Cream cheese
Powdered sugar
Vanilla/nutmeg/cinnamon/almond extract (pick one or two, vanilla is needed for filling)
Any fruit or jam you might want for the top or filling

Pre heat oven to 350.

Start with three eggs, and probably little less than a cup of milk. Beat the eggs and milk like you would for regular French toast, add some vanilla extract (a tablespoon, more or less for taste).

The bread needs to be thick, or sort of stiff. I used homemade raisin bread because it's really heavy and won't fall apart in the egg mixture. Soak four pieces in the eggs mixture, and put them in a nonstick pan (be sure to use baking grease on your pan- I learned the hard way nonstick does not really mean nonstick). They need to be REALLY soaked.

So, while those are sitting in the pan, go over to your bar of cream cheese. You need to beat the shit out of this if you don't have a mixer, and you may have enormous muscles when you're done. Add half a cup of milk to it. Depending on how thick you want the stuffing to be, you can add more. Once it's semi-beat to death, add a quarter cup of powdered sugar, and two tbs of vanilla extra, or you can use whatever you'd like- nutmeg, cinnamon, almond extract. Make sure this is good and mixed. If you want, you can also add some jam to flavor it, or even a mashed banana or two.

Once you have this done, spread out the filling on top of the bread in the pan. You can put as much as you want or as little. I put a few scoops per slice. Next, soak your next pieces of bread for the top. Slap them on them on there. You may or may not have a lot of egg mixture left, but pour the remaining over top of the bread. Doesn't matter if there is some in the bottom because the bread will soak it up, or the eggs will just bake.

Stick it in the oven. Depending if you LIKE butter on it or not, you can pull it out at 20 mins to dollop some butter on it, and some cinnamon or powdered sugar. Stick in the oven for another 10-15 minutes. You will know it is done when the top is browned. I stick a knife in the center to see how mushy the bottom pieces of bread are, as well. It's hard to tell when they are done, but you will know.

And, it's ready to serve! Make sure you separate them and take them out of the pan ASAP because otherwise they will dry to the pan. Of course you can put fruit, syrup, etc on top. They are VERY filling though, so don't make any heavy sides. Maybe some turkey bacon or something. Plus, if you're on a diet- unless you use lowfat everything, it's going to be a bit on the high cal side.

That is my recipe! Tell me if you end up making it. :)

Finding It Hard To Feel

I've never been one for affection.  I was never hugged and kissed as a child; I never had parents that praised me or made it known that I was in fact loved.  It may hurt them to know I realize this now, as an adult, because I find it had to show affection to anyone I love.  Of course, I still say 'Love ya,' to my friends, closest family, et cetera; but real affection?  Unheard of.  I do not know what it feels like to want to express that part of myself.

This is all hitting me very hard because there are certain people in my life I wish I could say and do affectionate things towards.  I am feeling lately like they may take it as rejection when I don't return their gestures.  It's not that I don't want to, or that I don't feel it.  It is that, well...I don't know how to and still feel comfortable with myself.

I've always been closed-hearted despite how very big-hearted I am.  I let people in all the time- if I like you, you find a place in my heart.  At the same time, it's rare to find me opening that part of myself up to just anyone. 

Why is this?  I think if I could solve this problem about myself, I could solve my problems in life, period.  Maybe if I could feel and let in a little bit more love...affection...I may be a bit happier with myself and my life.

The Art of Dissection

Sometimes I believe that this journey we all go through called Life is nothing more than a sick joke created by Man himself to amuse his days and nights.  Other days I realize this couldn't possibly be true, because despite the fact that some scenes here on Earth are hilarious, and sometimes heart warming, others are completely wretched and heart breaking.  No sane entity would enjoy watching the suffering of others.  Yet there is so much of it today.

Without tragedy, we'd have no way to judge our happiness.  It seems like a contradiction in itself.  Why couldn't we all live in complete oblivion of what happiness or sadness was?  Why is it that we have been bestowed upon with these these flutterings and flappings of feelings?  Feelings, feelings...

The very essence of them both drags and lifts me in a hundred different directions while still managing to hold me down in the very spot I wish to be far away from.  If I could fly, I would do so in a heartbeat, but I know that at the same time, I'd long for Earth once I was in the sky.  Isn't that the way it is, though?  You hate the very place you're in only because you are there- if you were somewhere else you would want to be back where you were before.  Sort of like how I long for Michigan but dreaded it while I was there.

The only way to fix this knotted rope of crazy feelings is to accept them as they are and move on in life.  I cannot keep holding myself down because I don't understand something.  I could ponder and wonder and disassemble and reunite every piece of emotion that I feel and it would accomplish nothing.  I'd still be a bundle of confusion.  I think this goes for everyone.  Others are just more accepting of the fact, and instead of trying to figure everything out they go on about life.  I always thought one of my greatest talents is being able to say exactly how I feel.  Maybe it is one of my greatest faults as well, for if I wasn't so great at doing so, maybe I would spend more time living life instead of dissecting it.

So far, it's done nothing good for me.  I love to dwell.  I could probably put it as one of my favorite past times.  I'm good at it.  In parting ways with Arizona, I want to teach myself to forget dissecting and instead enjoy everything as a whole, not as pieces of something larger than myself.  Though parts of life have seemed cruel jokes, life altogether is not.  It is sad, and crazy, and lame, and sometimes disastrous, but it is great.  I think I will toss away my knife for now and forget taking things apart.  Maybe it will make more sense to me then. 

Still Getting There

Well, I'm about a month and a half away from moving day and couldn't be more thrilled.  Everyone seems so happy I'm coming back.  I've already got offers for places to stay back in Michigan, and my cousin even offered to take my rabbits on her farm if I needed a bit to figure stuff out.  I am feeling more positive about life than I have in a while.

I started this donation thing because of my friend.  She wanted to help me out but knew that if I had all my friends pitch in five bucks I'd EASILY have enough to send my stuff back and fly home.  My biggest fear is leaving all of my stuff behind.  I do not want to leave my book collection behind.  We're talking 15 years worth of collecting, and a lot of them I like to reread.  I've already donated about half my paperbacks, when I first moved here. 

So anyway, in case you didn't read my last post, I set up a donation site and just need a little more help to get back to Michigan.  Once the lease is up on this apartment on May 31st I will officially be homeless here.  I'd rather not wait til the last minute to get things done.  If you want to help, refer to my last post here and it's much appreciated if you can.  I've only gotta little ways to go.  My mom and some of my family are paying for my flight- I just need help shipping some stuff.  I've got about 6 or 7 boxes left, so, it's about a hundred bucks. 

That's really all that's up.  Been trying to stay sane and keep my head on straight until I actually get going.  I suppose now that's all I have left to do- wait!

Help A Friend

Alright, here goes-

My good friend Beth told me to do this.  It's for a good cause. 

On May 31st my lease is up on my apartment.  I am trying to move back to Michigan and have limited funds to do so.  My plan was to have someone fly out, help me pack, and then we would drive back in a truck.  I don't have a driver's license, so it's sorta hard for me to do that.  I found out to rent a U-Haul for a three day drive is close to 2 grand.  There is no way I'll come up with that much in two months. 

So, here is my plan instead: I need enough money to at least send my belongings back home.  This is going to cost me about $500-$600, depending.  I'll be flying back to Michigan with my rabbits. 

This is all very sudden, because my boyfriend and I broke up and I basically have nowhere to go out here right now.  I've been job hunting with no luck and there's no way I can afford to live on my own in Phoenix.  If you want to help, just use the donate button below.  Anything is appreciated, really.  I know everyone is having a hard time right now, so don't feel bad if you can't.

Thank you all, for being supportive and helping me through the hard times. 

~Nicolette

**EDIT:  I would just like to update this by saying, so far I have gotten $100 from people donating.  Thank you so much.  I'm that much closer to getting home, and also, I am already starting to ship out my things this week.  I need about $200 more, so please, if you're just reading this, help me out!  :)  I would just love to be back in northern Michigan with my family and friends!

Places You Have Come To Fear The Most

My title comes from a song by Dashboard Confessional, of the same name.  You should check it out sometime.

I haven't been back here in a while.  Why? you ask.  Because- I feared reading what I had written about the 'incident' and what other people had to say about it.  I suppose I shouldn't fear such things- there are far worse obstacles to get through.

I really have nothing in particular that I would like to blog about today, but I would like to bring up several topics that have been on my mind.  Rather, questions really, not topics, although they could make entire blogs themselves.  First up to bat- dating and age.

When is it okay for an older woman to actually hit on a younger man?  I'm not talking 40 year old cougar hitting on 25 year old law student.  Think younger than that, on both counts.  I know someone who is my age, talking to an 18 year old.  That is a 6 year difference, in age and probably moreso in maturity.  Does an 18 year old guy even know what he's doing in life, let alone with an older woman?  I'm not so sure.  I have mixed feelings.  The guy can be incredibly insightful, yet at times I feel there is something lacking- like, several years.  I suppose it's in the eye of the beholder.

I don't want to delve too far into that because I would rather not dissect it.  It will make me critical of the people involved and that's something I'm not willing to do at this point.

The second issue would be- what to do when you've fallen out of love, but can't bring yourself to admit it.

The time has come.  After months and months of being frustrated and devastated and torn, I've finally hit my brick wall- I am no longer in love.  Whether it is because of the numerous break ups, the things he has done to me, or the names he has called me, I no longer care.  I don't want to be with him anymore.  It is quite obvious he is only with me out of convenience, so what is so hard about this?

How can you explain to someone you just need time to figure out where you're going to go and what you're going to do before you move out?  I have no idea.  That's the truth.  I have nowhere to go.  Last time this happened I moved to Colorado, and that didn't turn out so well.  I was back here a month later.  But now it is me doing the breaking up.  What do I say?  "I don't love you anymore, but I need to stay here until I figure out my life?"  I'm sure that'll go over real well.

How confusing and difficult.  I thought the worst was behind me in high school.  These are definitely more substantial and crazy times for me.  I'll be 25 in 3 months, yet I feel years older.  I look it, too.  The stress and sadness has definitely taken it's toll on me.

While I'm here, I'd like to thank the people who haven given me awards that I haven't mentioned.  I do recognize them, though, and will try to get around to posting them.  I appreciate your support and attention, though.

With that, I sign off.  Happy March, everyone.  The first day of spring is just around the corner.

The Drunk Ways

I wrote my last blog in the heat of the moment.  I have told no one my true thoughts and emotions on the catastrophe, yet it was the least commented of all of my blogs.

It is because it was too long.

There is no certain length of words which to describe something so spectacular (whether truly wonderful or absolutely terrible) .  I feel absolutely lost in the words I wrote because those are what I still feel.

I don't feel words are necessary for that.  My drunk driving is enough to say- I was a loser.

I don't want to blame anyone for my ways.  But I will always blame you, in my heart, because you have destroyed everything I've built in the last ten years all by drinking three beers, and your luck was passed on to me.

Sincerely,
Me

A Night Not Worth It

I lay in bed reading tonight (this morning) because I've found it hard to sleep until I'm totally exhausted.  Not exactly the best thing for anyone, but not new to me.  After putting down my book for the night, turning off my light, and rolling over, the thoughts and memories of my past came back to me, and I felt ashamed and embarrassed once again.  I do not reveal this to many people I am not close with, but for some reason, I just have to get it off of my chest.

In summer of 2006, one of my oldest friends was pulled over and arrested for drinking and driving.  I remember we were both at another friends, watching movies and drinking that night, and I had planned to stay the night.  She, on the other hand, did not.  My friend has had a lot of serious issues in the past, and her drinking is one of them.  She didn't have that many while we were together.  She was also not a lightweight and it took quite a few to get her drunk, but I told her not to leave.  She got a text from a guy though, and decided to meet up with him.  It wasn't then she was pulled over, but on her way home from a bonfire.  I remember waiting up for her text that she got home, but I never got it.  I tried calling several times but she never answered.  Finally, at four AM, I fell alseep, and not but an hour later I got a call from her.  She was in jail, and she was laughing about it.

I admit I laughed.  I couldn't believe she had done it, for one, and two, she had always been a good kid growing up.  Both of us were sort of the goody-goodies in our school, and didn't start drinking until several years after high school.  However, this was also the summer several accidents happened that involved people from our own school.  She was lucky she wasn't one of them.  One girl I was on the cheerleading squad was killed.  Another guy was left paralyzed after the driver of his vehicle flipped it, going 80 miles an hour down a curved road.  It was a sad summer for everyone. 

This was also the same summer my ex and I officially cut off contact between each other.  We were both seeing new people, but it was still hard on both of us.  I moved back in with my mother, whom I had never had a good relationship with (until the recent year).  I was depressed and confused by everything going on.  My friends were constantly fighting amongst each other, and it seemed I was always in the middle of it.  Not to mention, but my best friend moved to Germany a few months before, so I felt completely lost.  Come late 2006, I was pretty much a wreck.  I fell for someone that had liked me a lot at one point, but after being shut down by me, decided I was just a good friend.  It broke my heart.  My mom and step dad were at my throat for everything.  To say the least, 2006 was the worst year of my life.

I met up again with a guy I had hung out with for a short period in 2004.  Our relationships seemed to be falling apart, and we connected on a level I knew was strictly situational, but I couldn't help but like him.  We split ways, and it was by chance I ran into him in fall of 2006, at a bar I rarely went to on a night I did.  Even though it was a bit awkward, seeing each other as we did, we exchanged phone numbers.  It was something I will forever regret, and wonder if I hadn't done it, if things would be different.

We hung out several times in December before I left to visit my dad in Phoenix.  I hadn't moved out here yet, and wanted to test the waters.  Michigan obviously wasn't working out for me, and a change of scenery seemed to be what I needed.  It was a great trip, but I still wasn't sure I wanted to stay.  The friend I had fallen for picked me up from the airport in Grand Rapids on my return, and drive me home, three hours away.  There is a back story to him as well, but I'll save it.  To say the least, he was the least likely person I would ever fall for but the best person to choose at the time, for a few reasons.  I learned he was seeing someone I pretty much despised and of course, like a typical sensitive girl, I fell apart again.

I began drinking a lot.  I was able to cut myself off, and I never drove drunk, but I could still see I was on a downward spiral.  I decided to get help from the mental health department in my town, and scheduled an evaluation to be done in January.  I had an hour long appointment with a man I didn't feel quite comfortable with, and we decided I needed to start weekly therapy because my emotional and mental health were very obviously spiraling.

During all of this I began dating the guy I had run into at the bar.  He was basically no good.  He had basically turned into the Bad Boy From Hell.  He drank, he smoked, he got into fights, he got arrested.  He paid me a lot of attention, though, albeit it wasn't the sort I needed.  Several times I drove to pick him up from the bar after refusing to go with him.  I was trying to get help, and even though I saw that he wasn't helping the situation, I didn't want to be alone.  I picked him up from a bar one night, and ended up also driving his best friend and girlfriend.  We decided to take back roads, because he wasn't supposed to be drinking- he was on probation.  In the state of Michigan, if you are on probation, you are not allowed to consume alcohol.  That is a fact.  I know a lot of states have hard punishments, but I believe Michigan's is one of the hardest.  I didn't even bother trying to enforce it with him.  Even though I was still considered a good girl at the time, I wanted to be a bad girl. 

I learned how nasty his temper was the same night.  He punched my windshield, and it was hard enough to spider-web the entire passenger side.  I was in shock.  The worst part was, it was over something that had happened several years before, and it still had that effect on him.  I yelled at him, and told him he was going to pay for it, but he said he would just have his brother replace it since he worked for a car repair shop.  I should have known, right then and there, but I didn't.

I remember to this moment the very date things changed for me.  January 18th, 2007.  Nothing significant to be back then.  It was Dollar Pint Night at most of the bars in downtown Traverse City.  All of my friends were going, except for me.  I had chosen to not go, and was fine with it.  I hung out with my best friend and her boyfriend, and looked at wedding dresses with her.  I was content to stay in and stay sober.  At a little bit before midnight, I got a call from the crazy guy, asking me to come down to his favorite bar.  So I did.  He proceeded to act like an ass to me, and I wasn't having it.  After half an hour of enduring his cockiness and smart ass remarks, I told him I was leaving.  He followed me out to my car, where he demanded I wait to drive him home.

I said no.  I told him to go to hell, and went to open my door, but despite his drunkeness, he was too fast.  He hit me in the face, and called me a cunt.  I didn't slow down though; I got in my car and drove back to my friend's apartment, where I didn't tell her or her boyfriend anything.  I merely said, "I need a really strong drink." 

After that, the night is a blur.  I ended up going downtown with my friends after all, where everyone bought me drinks and was so happy to see me.  I tried my best to forget what had happened, but I know I was feeling it.  Deep down, I wasn't happy; I wasn't laughing or smiling with my friends.  I was reliving that moment, over and over again.  Someone ended up dropping me back off at my car, and with every intent to not drive that night, I still did.  I got in my car, and I drove.  I was going to drive straight to that jerk-off's house and give him a piece of my mind.

I didn't get very far.  About five miles down the road I went to make a left hand turn, and I slid into the snow bank on the opposite side.  Michigan winter's aren't something you mess with, especially when you've been drinking.  The funny part about this is, my cousin actually saw my car, stopped, and said when we talked I seemed fine; sober as could be.  She offered to wait with me, and I said nah, I'm just gonna ask someone to help push me out.  The guy that offered to help though, wound up calling the police on me, and I was arrested for drunk driving.

This has been on my mind for three years.  Three long years I have thought about what could have happened.  And not to me, mind you- but to someone else.  What if I had killed someone?  What if I had died- what would my family and friends do?  How could my decision have affected thousands of others?  I haven't had a car nor a license in three years.  Despite pleading guilty, and showing proof to the judge I had already personally begun seeking help before this, he gave me the max penalty in the state of Michigan for DUI.  Nine months probation, 30 days of twice daily PBTs (breathalyzers), 60 days of once daily PBTs, then 90 days of randoms; 60 hours of community service; and then 30 days suspended license, 60 days of restricted license, then $1000 a year for two years to reinstate my license.  I had to pay the courts over $2000 in fees, $3 per PBT.  I was placed in classes for addicts, which cost me $7 dollars per meeting, twice a week for 9 weeks.  I had to pay the county I lived in for damage to a fire hydrant (which I don't think was right, because my car was nowhere near a fire hydrant, nor was I going fast enough to plow through a snowbank in a tiny Cavalier), which was $600.  Then, I also had to pay an incarceration fee for the six hours I stayed in jail.  I'm not doing the math, but add all those fees up, and you have a lot of money.  Subtract $1000 because I haven't been able to pay the last fee to get my license reinstated for the second year.

I know this has already gotten long enough, but I am almost finished.  The attorney they gave me did NOTHING to help my case.  I had to pay him, as well, even though it was made mandatory by the judge because of the crime.  I plead guilty, straight up, and when the judge asked me what happened, I told him.  I told him the truth.  I didn't cry or beg or plead with him, I just told him- I had a bad night, and even before it, I had saught out help.  I was a volunteer cheer coach at my old high school, which I thought should have proven I am not a typical offender.  I was enrolled to join school a week later- which I ended up dropping, because I no longer had a license and had a schedule to follow.  I know he was trying to do a service to the community, but giving a 21 year old female with no priors that volunteers to help her community is extreme.  He explained that he would make an example of me and what could happen, no matter how great of a person you are, if you made this mistake.

I lost my spot as coach, because I couldn't get rides.  A job I was supposed to start was no longer there for me, because of my schedule.  My PBTs had to be done before 10 AM every morning and between 5 and 7 PM every night.  My meetings were twice a week.  There was no way a job was going to work around my schedule.  Yet, they expected me to pay for everything, within 9 months time.  If I had been depressed before, I was ten feet under by that point.  I know I brought it on myself, but for some reason, I couldn't get a break, no matter how hard I tried at the time.  I made a mistake, and I paid.  And I'm still paying.

This is one of the reasons I am unable to sleep sometimes.  If I hadn't made that decision, I would still have a license, I would still have a car.  I wouldn't be stuck using the bus system.  Maybe I wouldn't have even moved out here, and become more miserable.  This is proof that one night can change your whole life; one mistake can cost you everything.  And the judge did what he wanted- he made an example out of me.  So far, it's costed me three years of my life.  Yet, it could have costed so much more.

Home Base

It's the end of junior year, and I have a cheerleading awards assembly to go to.  It is also around my birthday, so my mom takes me and my bestie Amber to the mall to go shopping, and to eat at my favorite restaurant, Don's Drive-In (if you're ever in Traverse City, MI- OMG must eat there).  She buys me a cute new outfit, consisting of a blue shirt that laces up to the neck, a pair of blue jean capris, and some white mules with some crazy design on them.  White shoes and I don't go together, and especially half-shoes, due in large part to the fact that I am constantly tripping over things, including my own feet.  I just had to have them, though.  I have no idea that my first time going to home base in this outfit will not be in the way I expect it.

The day of my awards ceremony, The Drummer tells me he can't go, but will wish me luck before I leave.  My stepsister happens to visit at the same time, so we're waiting on the porch for him to show up.  I'm dressed in my new outfit, when The Drummer arrives in my driveway.  I am so giddy (this is within the first month we were together) that I gleefully skip down the steps and down our dirt driveway to greet him.  Only, I don't make it all the way there.  At least, not on my feet.

It took all of two seconds to realize what was happening, and that I wouldn't be able to stop it.  One- I tripped over said new white shoes.  Two- I was going to fall, as I was skipping way too fast and would be unable to catch myself.  Three- All of this would happen in front of my stepsister, my mother, and my new boyfriend.  Two seconds later, my arms were out in front of me as if I was going to slide head first into home base, my face was planted in the dirt, and I was soon gliding right into The Drummer's work boots.

For about a minute nobody moved.  I kept my face down, wondering how I would pull off some smooth exit of this hellishly mortifying moment.  But before I could think about it, I began laughing hysterically, and when I do so, I do so silently.  My body merely bounced up and down as I cracked up at my own expense.  Finally, Drummer Boy reached down to help me up.  I took his hand and met his face, and I could see that I had dirt on my nose.  And apparently, my forehead, as he wiped it off with the sleeve of his shirt.

My mom and stepsister were laughing hysteically from the porch, but The Drummer didn't know what to do, because we had just begun dating and he wasn't sure it was appropriate to laugh.  Later on he told me that he had stood there covering his mouth, looking at me, wondering if I was crying or laughing.  I could only picture this but it made me laugh harder at myself.

I didn't have time to change before the ceremony, so I wound up going to it with my new white shoes covered in dirt.  The entire time I sat on stage, I had to concentrate on not laughing becaue I could not believe what I had done.  My teammates asked me afterwards why I was covered in dirt, and I couldn't tell them without busting up.

The worst part is, that isn't even the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me.

I Laugh When You Get Hurt

My ex and I had a lot of fun together for three years.  It was a good time, most of the time, despite the fact that I would really like to wring his neck these days.  We went to concerts all the time, never failed to have the best parties at our house, and we found creative things to do when we were broke.  Some days I wonder why it all fell apart- but that's for a different day. 

I was 19 years old, he was 20, and we had just moved into our first place together.  We had his brother visiting for the weekend, and he was an avid skateboarder.  He wasn't awesome or anything, but he brought his skateboard everywhere and was one of those kids you always see in parking lots, trying to pull off tricks.  He brought his skateboard with him when we went grocery shopping, and on the way back, had a brilliant plan.  He wanted me to pull him behind my car.

I laughed and said no way.  I didn't want him to get hurt under my watch.  His mom would kill me, for one, and not my ex.  I didn't need the drama.  So my ex said he would drive while his brother skated behind us.  I was practically chewing my fingernails off in nervousness because I didn't want to spend the night in the hospital because his brother had bashed open his head while pulling some stupid stunt.

Thankfully, he was a good enough skater that he didn't fall.  It doesn't seem very fast to most of us, but being pulled five miles an hour behind a car on a skateboard is pretty damn fast.  And he did it.  He said it was a lot harder than movies make it look (um, duh?).  My ex, who was over 6 feet tall and had no coordination whatsoever, said he wanted to try it.  In my mind I was thinking, "Yeah, okay, I know this won't work."  But I just shook my head and said, "Fine, but I'm driving."  The deal was, he would hit the car if he wanted to go faster, and scream if he wanted us to stop (the windows were rolled down).  Have you ever seen that movie with John Candy and Dan Akroyd, when they take their families camping, and John Candy wants to teach his son to water ski, but it fails when he's the one getting pulled suddenly behind the boat?  It was similar to this.

I started off going slow, and watched the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn't falling or anything.  We we the only house on this backstreet, so I wasn't worried about cars coming, but I was worried about his gangly ass breaking his neck.  He tapped the trunk of the car, so I went a little faster.  Almost five miles an hour.  He then hit the trunk again, and I checked to make sure he was serious.  He was.  He gave me a thumbs up, with his big goofy smile on his face.  I sped up.  Seven to eight miles an hour, and he was still holding on.  I was laughing by this time, because seriously- who would have thought he'd last?

I checked in the rearview mirror, and suddenly, he was gone.  The sideview mirror revealed the most horrifying hilarious image ever- my ex was bouncing down the side of the road.  I could see him trying to stop himself, but it wasn't working.  His limbs were this way and that, and he looked like a ragdoll.  The skateboard flew underneath my car and out the front, and I stopped quickly and jumped out.  He was lying in the gravel, moaning and groaning.  "I hit a rock," he mumbled.

I made sure he was okay, and he was.  He managed to tuck and roll without hitting his head.  By this time, I was hysterical with laughter.  The image of him bouncing down the road was too much.  He got in the car and we drove home to survey the damage.  He was really lucky, but still had some nasty injuries.  His entire left side had road rash, along with his elbows and shoulders.  Because there was gravel imbedded in the wounds, I told him he'd have to clean them out before I bandaged them up.  He did not, under any circumstances, want me to pour peroxide on them.  I managed to trick him, and he nearly cried- but I laughed.  For some reason, when people get hurt, it's hilarious to me if they are not seriously injured.  I can't help but giggle when I see someone fall.  And, I do laugh when I fall, as well.  Just so you know. 

Does anyone else have this problem?

Name Of Girl [Here]

I try to frequent my subscription blogs, but sometimes I get a little too busy and start neglecting them.  Lately that's been the case, but I took the time to read one of them today.  Tales From A Rejection Queen reminds me SO much of what happened to me when I was 21.  She talks about her rejection letters mostly, as she continues to try to be accepted by an agent and eventually, like some of my readers and subscriptions, be published.  I started reading her blog for the sole purpose of keeping my own hope alive, but her personal life is what really brings me to my blog today.  We both have a love for musicians and it seems to be heartbreaking for both of us.

I dated my first musician in high school.  He was a drummer, and the bad boy of our school.  I didn't date him until after he had graduated, but everyone still knew who he was because he was in the hometown hero band.  I was only a junior when we started dating, and we went on and off until fall of my senior year, when he began neglecting me for side projects I wasn't exactly into (read: sex, drugs, craziness).  He cheated on me several times with girls he would meet at the bar during his gigs, and because I was naive, I let myself believe he wasn't.  But I was no fool.

I reconnected with my old best guy friend from high school while on hiatus from that relationship.  The best guy friend was, also, a musician.  He played bass and had been in several bands throughout the years.  He had just left his girlfriend of two years, and had always had a crush on me.  However, I was pretty sure he was just looking for someone to help him get over the ex, and figured it would come and go fast.  It lasted three years, then another year, on and off, until he also cheated on me.  It wasn't a band groupie, but it may as well have been.  Several months after the first time, he cheated on me again, and that was when I broke it off.

I don't know why this is, but there is something so charming and sexy about musicians, even when I know (we all should know) they are heartbreakers.  They write songs about it, so they should know how it feels- but usually they are the ones doing most of the heartbreaking.  After the ex-fiance and I finally split it off for good in 2006, I started back onto the dating scene (around the same time as Weird Underwear guy).  The first person I manage to lay my hands in is, OF COURSE, a musician. 

His name was Ben, and he was adorable.  He was formally in a band with my past ex The Drummer, but was completely different.  He married a girl he met in high school and just a year after separated from her.  He moved four hours south (Ann Arbor), and began a new life.  I happened to run into him on Memorial Day weekend, when everyone in our town seems to party.  I hadn't seen him in years, and happened to be buying a case of beer at a local party store.  Once the guy in front of me had finished paying I threw the case up on the counter.  The guy stopped at the door, and turned around.  I started walking past him, but he put his finger in the air and said, "I know you."

Indeed, he did know me.  It was Ben.  And he looked good (I would like to post pictures of these guys, to prove they are good-looking, but I feel that would be wrong lol). 

"Oh, hey Ben!  It's been a while!  What are you doing up here?"  Of course I"m smooth as butter around the musicians.

"Just up here visiting.  I can't remember..."

"Nicolette.  Or Juj, like everyone calls me."  I knew my ex never called me Juj, but Ben's ex-wife did (did I mention we used to all hang out when I was dating the ex-fiance?).

"Yeah I knew it was something crazy," he said and smiled.  My friends were watching from the car, and waited very impatiently for me to hurry it along.  Ben and I wound up exchanging phone numbers, and once I got in the car, I got to hear it. 

"Was that Ben?" my cousin yelled. 

"He looks HOT!" Alison added.

I could just laugh.  Oh yeah, it was Ben all right.

The weekend was busy for both of us, but come Monday we wound up getting together at a BBQ.  We just sat around and talked, but it was fun.  We had a good time, and decided to keep in touch.  I would continually text him for the next couple months, and then finally actually drive to visit him.

Ben had a way with words.  Like most musicians.  I would wake up some mornings, and there would be some sweet, lyrical-like text from him waiting for me.  "Nothing looks as beautiful as you do while you sleep."  Of course, they only time he'd actually seen me sleep was when I stayed at his house with his ex and my ex, but- still, very very sweet and I got sucked in. 

He convinced me, during a very terrible period for me, to drive down and visit him for a weekend, because he wanted to see me.  He offered to pay for everything, and my friends told me I should do it.  So I did.  And it was really, really great.  He took me out to eat everyday, brought me to a comedy club, introduced me to his friends, we watched the Michigan vs. Michigan State game (he's Michigan, I'm a State girl), we went to the bar, we shot pool, we watched movies.  There wasn't a moment to spare.  We got along so well, it was crazy.  I knew it would end in disaster.

It didn't.  I drove home, we still texted.  However, he was seriously looking into recording with his band downstate, and of course, this left him hardly any spare time for a serious girlfriend.  I wasns't heartbroken, but I was pretty let down.  I let it go, and we eventually drifted apart.  He would come up north to visit his family and always invited me along, because I was the "girl his mom loved".  We went to the movies and baseball games, but it never became anything serious because, I thought that was what he wanted.

Turns out, he was waiting for me to say something.  On Valentine's Day, of all days, I received two text messages- one from him, and the other from my ex (after nearly three months of not speaking).  It was confusing.  Ben had driven up north that weekend to visit, but had blown me off completely the entire time.  He left me waiting for him to call, didn't return my voicemail, and then the text I got was from him, saying his phone had died earlier that day and he left his charger at home.  Likely excuse.

We ended up getting into it over the phone, and I said he was rude not to call and let me know, because I sat around the entire weekend because he had told me he wanted to chill with me, but never called.  He then told me, "I feel like you're not even interested in me so I didn't want to waste my time."

...I wasn't interested in him?  When he was the one that blatantly said, "I don't want a girlfriend because I'm very busy being a musician"?  Hold the phone!  (Ha ha, 80's reference)

I told him I was interested him, but was giving him space because he said he didn't want a girlfriend.  He told me he said that because he didn't want me to be clingy.  WTF?  In the end, that was it.  Ben was great when he was around, but apparently double-talked and just wanted to see if he could get a girl to fall for him even if he was stand-offish and said he didn't want anything.  It failed.  I didn't "fall" for him, but I was pretty hurt.  However, it made me ready for my next phase in life, and it turns out I would never want to date him, anyway.  He is still a broody guitarist, writes poetry and lyrics and chain smokes.  He still has the same ice blue eyes and the thick dark hair that makes any girl want to run their fingers through it.

But to me, he is just another guy.  It wasn't the fact that he was a musician.  It was the fact that he knew how to play the cards right.  There are many, many men out there like this that have no talent to play a musical instrument whatsoever- but they can play the game, and that's all that matters to them, and to us in the end. 

The good thing is- I don't think I'll ever want to date a musician again.  That is, of course, unless he wants to take me on tour with him.  I'll gladly meet all the other hot musicians he'll be on the road with.

Weird Underwear

I went to bed about 3 hours ago.  I turned on the TV per usual to wind down, then went on to paint my nails.  I finished them, watched all of Catch Me If You Can, and proceeded to toss and turn.  My head hurts and my stomach is killing me.  The smell of BBQ chicken is still filling the apartment from dinner and it's making it worse.  Why do I tell you all this when my topic is weird underwear?  I start to remember things when I can't sleep, and this story happens to be one of them.

In high school I hung out with a few close friends.  One of them, Amber, happened to have another friend, Amy, that didn't quite like me (not sure why to this day, as we get along great now), but was with Amber and I a lot.  We would often just drive around when we were bored, and on one occasion, we happened to go to Amy's sister's apartment.  She lived with her boyfriend of the moment, and when we arrived, she was folding clothes.

We basically stood around in the living room and watched her very young son get into things he wasn't supposed to while she did laundry.  Amber happened to mention how very not fond she was of the boyfriend, and so did Amy.  The sister just rolled her eyes and continued to fold laundry, which was when the underwear came up.

"What are those?" Amber asked, point to a pair of blue leopard bikini briefs.

"Underwear," the sister said laughing.  "Why?"

"I really hope they're yours," Amber replied.

"No, they're actually [boyfriend]'s," sister corrected.

I hadn't met the boyfriend then, but I almost died laughing.  So did Amy and Amber.  Blue leopard print bikini briefs for a supposedly straight guy?  Excuse me if I insert the term LOL right here.  It was only right we made sure a few (hundred) times that he really indeed was straight.  I'd never met the dude but I was already second guessing, based on his underwear.

Several months later, I happened to meet the boyfriend.  He was a paramedic and was driving the ambulance in the Fourth of July parade, and might I add that he was gorgeous.  Of course, I was 16 at the time, so anything with bleach blonde tips in his hair and hazel eyes would catch my eye, but really, the boyfriend was very cute.  As soon as I admitted it to Amber and Amy though, they were disgusted.  They didn't think so because they didn't like him (I'm going to assume this is because they both basically grew up around him, and you know how siblings can hate on each other's flings, especially with an age difference involved).  I still thought boyfriend was gorgeous.

Fast-foward several (6) years later.  I'm at the bar, and I happen to be avoiding a stalker that I met a few nights before at a club.  It was a very, very mean joke played on me by a sort of crush I had at the time, but somehow I ended up getting stalker at my apartment instead of my crush, and anyhow, stalker was now showing up everywhere I went, it seemed, and this night was no different.  I was trying to hide behind friends, dodge between tables, run to the bathroom, anything, just to make sure he didn't see me.  I failed at one point, at was nowhere near anyone to hide me.

I happened to be standing next to a crowd of people that seemed to know all my other friends, though, and one of them heard me when I said, "Oh, Christ, hide me."  The guy turned around, and lo and behold, it was sister's boyfriend of past.  He laughed and said, "From who?"  And immediately put his arm around me.

This, I thought, was just soooo...weird.  Several months before this had happened, he added me on MySpace, thinking I was someone he used to work with (the ironic part is, I was mistaken for her several times after high school, and not only that but- she was another good friend of mine for years).  So when he recognized me finally at the bar, after stalker had disappeared, he made a comment about it.  "Not Alison, but...Nicolette."  Yes, I thought.  He remembered my name!  He was still gorgeous as hell in my eyes, and six years of maturing for me had not changed it.  Although he was obviously older, I didn't mind one bit.  We spent the rest of the night talking with each other, and I wound up giving him my number. 

At this moment in time, I wasn't thinking about his underwear.  All of that totally slipped my mind as I gave this fine specimen my digits and crossed my fingers he called.  I didn't have long to wait, because if my memory serves me correctly (and it usually does), he called that very night, and wanted to chill.  We were both sober so I invited him back to my apartment at the time, which I shared with Amber (ironic, seeing as she never could stand him).

First thing that came out of her mouth when he came in was, "Fuck me."  And she left the room.  He laughed.  I guess they didn't like each other.  However, I didn't give a crap.  He was here.  To see me.  And hang out.  How incredibly cool. 

The first few nights we hung out we did nothing.  We watched TV, listened to music, drank a few beers.  That was about it.  I even remember him staying the night the first time and me saying, "I'm not sleeping with you."  And he said, "I didn't plan on it."  So innocent.  Of course that all changed eventually, which brings me to the point of this late night/early morning blog.

The first night we actually, eh hem, got down to business, I laughed.  I laughed.  He stripped off his pants, and there they were- the weird underwear from yonder years.  They were still blue, except this time, they were silk.  I'm sorry, but there is nothing sexy about a man wearing blue silk bikini briefs that could be mine (unless they really are mine). 

Later after we had finished our fling, Amber and I had a girls' night in where we discussed this event.  I had failed (purposely) to mention the underwear during the fling because I didn't want to get shit for it.  Eventually it had to come out though.

"So, you know [boyfriend] right?  Remember when we were hanging out?"

"Yeah.  Terrible time for me.  I didn't leave my room for a month."  (Pretty much true, too.)

"Well, he still wears girl's underwear."

Amber wasn't surprised.  However, she was shocked I still got into bed with him.  The thing is-

It's not the weird underwear that matters.  It's how we use what's under them that matters. 

The New Year

So far, I'm by far WAY happier than I have been in a while.  I'm pretty sure this is due to the fact that I am no longer stressed about the holidays on top of regular life situations.  We are still strapped for cash, but doing much better.  I was able to actually get my laptop fixed, and I now have my own wireless router, which is great.  I'm no longer stealing from someone else.  :)

Still no job.  I'm not stressing about this, either, because tax season is upon us- and I will get way more in return this year than I've ever gotten, because I had the max amount taken out for ten months last year.  This means that we will have a home phone soon, and that will result in- phone calls from future employers!  YAY!  Let's all clap for this.

It's been a while since I've posted, but I've been busy- and by busy I mean addicted to another internet game.  I have found that it has made me a much happier person, though.  The game is called Fiesta, and it's an RPG (role-playing game) and you interact with other players.  It has been great for me because I'm not so lonely in my down time anymore.  I have met a lot of really nice people, and we play the game together, and it makes me feel better when I'm low.  I am sort of thankful I found it.

SOOOO- for Christmas, I would like to tell you what I got.  My mom sent Chris and I money, which was great because we paid the electric bill, bought a steak dinner, and that is how I also fixed my laptop.  She also sent a box of goodies (candy, cookies, and raisins- don't ask, she's my mom).  The box of goodies is gone already and my behind and hips are showing it, but that's okay.  My dad and stepmom had a huge box wrapped up for us, and made us unwrap it together.  It was super heavy, and I laughed hysterically when I opened it-

It was filled with mac-n-cheese, canned soups, packages of spaghetti, and other non-perishable.  My stepmom also took time to get the bunnies something, and I was grateful for that because I wasn't able to get them anything.  So they got a big bale of hay, bag of food, some salt licks, and chew toys.  Hopefully that'll keep them from chewing on wires again (Beauty is the one that destroyed my wireless router before).

New Year's wasn't exciting.  We visited a friend and then came home to chill out.  I played my game and Chris played his.  He's been sick on and off now with a cold, and really grumpy.  I had to hit him with a frying pan earlier because he was so moody (just a joke, really- or not).  He actually attempted to cook dinner, which was nice, but I had to fix his mistakes.  Hehe.  And now I am paying for it because I took a bite of the chicken before I checked it and he didn't cook it well enough.  So...my stomach is killing me and I'm pretty sure I have food poisoning.  The bathroom is now my domain until further notice, which is why I am posting this so late. 

Anyway, I hope everyone had a great holiday season and enjoyed it.  However, I'm thankful it is OVER and now I can look forward to my birthday in May (18, anyone?  lol jk...OMG 25).  Chris's is in June, and we're planning to go to Vegas if we move into a different apartment complex.  He'll be the big 2-1.  Woot woot.  Finally legal.  Hope everyone's day is marvelous, and I'll try my best to update and comment more often.  No promises though, because seriously- Fiesta has come to consume my life.