Posts Tagged ‘best friend’

i gave myself a home haircut two nights ago. no matter how artistically inclined you believe yourself to be, no matter how steady you think you are holding those scissors, the home haircut is never, ever the solution to a bad hair day. there are worse things than badly cut DIY bangs….such as events that cause you to do such irrational chop jobs. take for instance a bad day. or quite possibly, a bad day resulting from a bad week resulting from a bad month, year, etc etc…you get the point.

nine days ago my vacuum cleaner blew up. on me. while vacuuming in my underpants. while vacuuming in my underpants slightly sticky from a fresh layer of self tanning cream (it was a bad multi-tasking decision, i realize this). nine days ago my God forsaken vacuum cleaner blew up on me, coating my icky sticky half naked self with dust, carpet fresh, and Lord knows what else that lives in the deep recesses of hoses, brushes, belts and bags. this was the start, but certainly not the catalyst to the bad bang situation. it gets worse. not only did i appear to be tarred and feathered, my house looked like al pacino’s desk at the end of scarface. i had carpet freshed the entire house….upstairs and down….and had no way to vacuum it up, leaving my floors to look like a coke whores mirror.

believing the malfunction to be caused by a bad belt, i cleaned myself up got dressed in my best crazy lady in rollers and robe get up, and go out to warm up my car for a trip to the dreaded gem city hardware store. fuck. my car wont start. your kidding me, right? after carefully reading the instructions on my never used box of jumper cables, i contact the neighbor lady and get my car jumped. i roll to the store in my, for reasons yet unknown wobbly vw beetle (more on this to come) get the belt, come home and get to work on fixing the offensive bitch of a vacuum cleaner (who i have now named Shawna, after the first girl to punch the living daylights out of me at the new carlilse pool when i was the tender age of 13). after reassembling Shawna, and having that bitch just blow the carpet fresh coke all over my house i quickly realize that the purchase of a new vacuum cleaner is imminent. i will name the new one Betty, and be sure not to force her to suck up items like socks, pennies and bobby pins…hopefully this will lend her a better personality than that dirty carpet fresh coke whore, Shawna.

i woke up eight days ago and decided that i needed some Aimee time. Aimee has been my best friend, for better and for worse, for the last 13 years. for all intents and purposes, our relationship is the closest thing i have to a marriage. she is married to Leon, and he is like my big brother, which takes our little family from nuclear to just plain outer limits. Aimee and Leon have two kids, 13 year old Kenya (who was born 6 months before my 13 year old daughter Mia) and 2 year old Nola (who i have affectionately dubbed, the UFC baby…im sure i will explain at some point). These people are my extended family, and though we may all get on each others nerves, we love each other. i digress, where was i, oh yeah…so i needed some Aimee time.

we decided it was spray tan time, considering my attempt at achieving perfect at home bronze was so rudely thwarted by Shawna. the thrusday $10 mystic tan special at the hot spot was calling us. off in my, for reasons still unknown, wobbly beetle we go. mystic tan time is not just about achieving the perfect week long bronze…its about friendship. its an event. its a distraction from kids, men, slutty vacuum cleaners and life as a 30 something year old stay at home mom. the drive is the best part. its the act of picking up Aimee, chatting all the way to the hot spot, getting that perfect 2 minutes completely alone in a booth, getting naked and sprayed with bronze bliss. its the drive back to her place. its something that we do together, never inviting anyone else. catching up on the days events, and reminiscing about the past 13 years of friendship. this is something we need. female bonding, i felt better already. later that day my tire blew. shit.

i have been seeing this guy, we will call him Justin. he is the first guy i have dated that has his own everything. his own car, job, house etc… he is weird, funny, intelligent and interesting, just like i like my men. he is also responsible. he is in the airforce. nice car, nice house, nice body, nice…other stuff, nice guy. so far. we are both slightly off kilter in the way that makes us still, for the most part, functional humans. we get along well and seem to make each other happy. seven days ago he comes over to change my tire. oh joy! i have a full sized spare in the trunk of my car, hooray! locking bolts, damn. they are little locks on your wheels to ensure no one can take your wheel off without a special key. a key i apparently do not possess. foiled again. we decide on a nice drive in his car instead. off to staples where he brings me into the 21st century by buying me a flat screen computer monitor, wireless keyboard and mouse. then off to buy me $100 worth of clothes at Marshalls. wow…this has certainly never happened before! a girl could get used to this! he upgrades my computer while i get my car towed to the dealer for a rather expensive tire change. we enjoy a yummy dinner, and watch a movie about as foreboding as they come. 500 days of summer…depressing flick. lesson of the day…you have to take the good with the bad.

six days ago i wake up with a bad feeling. need diet coke to function, must go to store. car wont start. other tire is flat. call justin, doesn’t answer. this day will not be good. call Natalie (more on her later) who comes to jump my car. go get air in the tire. nothing good or interesting happens on day six. maybe it will get better.

five days ago my camera bites the big one. i am a freelance photographer. i photograph weddings, events, musicians, models and pretty much anything else that can make me a buck. for the most part, i enjoy what i do. tomorrow i have a job. today my camera stops working. crap. a new camera will set me back a pretty penny. my tax return is the designated source for the new camera, but it wont be here for another 10 days. my wonderful amazing fantastic mother offers to buy the camera, and let me pay her back. i feel like such a loser, im 35 years old and borrowing money from my mother for goodness sake! after the camera, the vacuum cleaner, the care tire, the other car tire, and the car battery, my high from the Justin financed shopping spree is fading. not to mention i still haven’t heard from him. i feel the depression settling in as the carpet fresh slowly settles into my still unvacuumed carpet fibers.

i love my job! four days ago i take my new camera and shoot a surprise 60th birthday party at the church across the street from my house. the 60 year old birthday girl was spunky and fun and full of life. her entire family came for the event, about 100 people. i thought to myself, what a wonderful life this woman has led. to have all of this support and love and family. to be so gracious and happy and funny and cute at 60! i tell her this and she tells me she loves her life. she tells me that she knows her husband is looking down upon this party from heaven and laughing. it puts things in perspective. if this woman can be happy at 60, why cant i be happy at 35? am i wasting the younger years of my life hoping and wishing for something better? am i the catalyst for bad hair days?

i divorced my daughter’s father almost 9 years ago. in 9 years of dating i haven’t been able to make any relationship work for more than 2 years…and thats pushing it. my friends, family, and past boyfriends know that i am a challenge at times. i am at once distant, and the next minute attention craving. i can shrug off big problems one minute and freak out over little stuff the next. i can say how happy i am in one breath and then start crying. i want what i want…which is rarely what i need. what i need i cant find, or am too lazy to look for. i care deeply for those i love, but have a hard time showing it sometimes. i, like most people, am deeply flawed. i wonder, did this spunky 60 year old woman go through her fair share of this? im sure that she did. so, how do people make it through? how do they come out the other side of all the DIY hair cuts happy and grateful for the life that was given to them? does the old adage, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” hold water? for my sake i sure hope so!

Three days ago Justin comes over to put the new version of Photoshop on my computer. he brings my daughter an i-tunes gift card. he spends the day with us, has dinner with us. he and i stay up late and watch a movie together. we have a nice time. at least thats how i see it. we have one of those serious talks, he tells me he has never felt this way about a girl before. that he is inexperienced with love and doesn’t know how to deal with these feelings. he says he doesn’t know where he will be in five years, or even tomorrow. that his job could take him overseas at anytime. he says he doesn’t want to hurt me. says that he is scared of love and all the complications that it brings and that he has avoided it at all costs all his life. he tells me i am putting a monkey wrench in his system and doesn’t know how to deal with this. you know where this is going, right? three days ago Justin says goodbye to me for the last time. this is the latest chapter in my dating life, which seems to be an exercise in futility.

i wake up crying. i miss….someone. not sure if its justin or edward or brandon or whoever…i just am missing something…and feeling sorry for myself. i decide to put on my big girl panties, dry my eyes, brave the snow storm, and do what any self respecting recently dumped girl should do….get drunk. ok, so maybe its not what i should do…but its what i want to do. my friend Natalie and i have no kids this weekend. we get all dolled up, and have her boyfriend drop us off at the downtown watering hole. we decide we will both get too tipsy to drive, and just take a cab home. one jager bomb, one beer…chatting at the bar. another beer…commence dancing. another jager…commence chatting up cute guys at bar. one free random drink from guy at bar…commence more dancing to escape grabby guy at bar. next beer…commence singing of morrissey song. bar closes…walk to after hours club. commence more dancing and meeting of super cool undercover cop chick. undercover cop chick knows of another club that is open til 7am…more dancing. come home, pass out happily. two days ago i pretended to be 21 years old again!

yesterday i awoke to a freight train driving through my ocular nerve. also, a band of gypsies are performing strange dancing rituals in my tummy. i feel like shit. someone or something seems to have spent all my money on drinks. it is this moment that i realize i am not 21 years old. the day will be spent watching extremely bad reality tv on the couch while everyone else on earth watches the super bowl. i will eat a bowl of sate pho from little siagon and never leave the couch. i am even more sad about my love life than i was before my drunken debacle last night. ugh…milk was a bad choice. so was the jager.

today i feel 85% recovered from my hangover. i decide to write about the last 9 days of my life. after writing this, i will apologize to all who took the time to read it, as it turned out quite a bit longer than originally intended. i hope to write a new entry every few days, in an attempt to make sense of it all. maybe someone will see a bit of themselves in all of my nonsense. maybe i will provoke a chuckle or two. maybe this will help me make better decisions, and figure out why i do what i do. maybe i will forget about all this and never write another word…who knows. feel free to comment, judge, ridicule or high five me. i hope this helps.


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