Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Dam Dutch Brothers Anyway!

So I just got back on Monday night from a mad dash trip to my sister’s house. She’s about a 13 hour drive from my little home here in the PNW all the way in California’s version of the PNW. Lets just say my Sissy Poo Poo is closer to Oregon than San Francisco. BTW,  no self respecting Californian calls is San Fran. Anywhoo.
I spent 14 hours alone on Thursday driving down. I stopped for dinner at this Mexican restaurant on the way that I swear to GOD puts cocaine in their food. Every time I drive through this little California coastal town, I stop to eat. Its better than anything I’ve ever eaten. Coming back was a shorter trip because I didn’t stop to eat. I snarfed down fast food and coffee only to leave myself with the worst stomach ache that ensured my inability to sit up straight for at least a day.
My niece got married – which is the reason for the mad dash down and back. I love the kid like a sister – which is the only other reason that I made the mad dash.

My mom and niece.
Thanks to Chris Tuite Photography for the beautiful pic.

I forced my parents to leave the day before I did because my dad drives like a crazy idiot. He’s deaf, so he can’t hear my mom’s screams from the passenger seat. And to put it into perspective: they left around 5:30 Wednesday and got to my sisters around 7 on Thursday night. I left at 8 AM Thursday and got there by 10 PM. They stopped less and I know for a fact that I was only averaging 10 MPH over the speed limit through the three states I had to travel and only caught air in my car once. And that was CalTrans fault for making a slight change to the hill by Chazem Rd. on 299.
So, in 100 degree weather I cooked food for two days for 75 people for a wedding with about 35 people in attendance. My mother, even tonight, complained that my sister and I wouldn’t let her help. It’s not that we wouldn’t LET her help. It’s that there was nothing she could do easily from the arm chair her cancer ridden backside was resting in. It makes both my sister and I sad to see how she's changed just in the last 6 months. She's gained weight, loses her train of thought much easier, forgets everything and needs a cane to get around.  Her and I agreed to just enjoy the weekend with everyone feeling good since mom is supposed to start a new Chemo on Thursday. The last one wasn't very much fun, so this one we know won't be a picnic.
During the drive I noticed a lot of things like people who pick their nose. Who the fuck does that? Just because you’re in a car, doesn’t mean I CAN’T SEE YOU. You are not John Cena, so don’t pretend. In Washington, drivers suck. I never hit my breaks and lost the ability to use my cruise control more times than I did in my home state. They ruined my driving chi more times than I care to mention. In Oregon, the rest stops are gross. Rest areas are dens for germs and bad sanitation anyway, but they’re worse in Oregon. I’d rather pee on the side of the road and drip dry than enter one of their rest stops. In fact, going down, I purposely dehydrated myself so I would only have to stop once or twice. Coming back, not so lucky thanks to a stop at Dutch Bros. Dam them anyway.

Friday, August 5, 2011

How does that not go up your ass?

Two of FFB's kids are totally into wrestling. And by that I mean the oldest has a boy crush on the "U Can't See Me" dude. I really can't say that I blame him. I'm sorry but dude is JACKED and fucking hot. What else I find incredible is that there are all these jacked up guys running around in Speedo's playing grabass and at NO TIME do said speedo's ride up their ass or even move. I'm sorry, I can't walk three steps without having one side of my underwear slide off my ass cheek and into my crack. NOR do these guys show up with bruises and bumps the next day. Which I find a little hard to believe. Who do you know on this planet that can get tossed out of a wrestling ring into a folding table, get slammed in the back with a metal chair then picked up and spun around before being thrown at the announcers and not have a single mark on them during the next week's Monday Night Raw? Who? Tell me because really, if there is someone like that, they are aliens. FFB's dog put her paw on my leg and I wound up with bruises from her toenails. And what is with the oil and spray tan? I realize that the spray tan  makes you less reflective for the cameras and hides imperfections, but isn't it a little much? I equate oil and spray tan with a different kind of wrestling.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Opinions, Assholes, and Crap

I’m not big on putting my personal life out there for people to look at. I like a little anonymity with what goes on at home with the exception of some of the crazy kid shit that goes on. Privacy is nice and this is the internet after all. We all have our reasons for doing things and it drives me bug-shit crazy when I do something and it gets picked apart by other people. Yes I buy frozen spinach in the hopes that I will do something with it. I realize that the brick has been in the freezer now for three years but that doesn’t give you the right to bitch at me for wasting $1 three years ago.

Opinions are like assholes: everyone has them and many of them spew out ridiculous amounts of crap. I’m right in my heart and mind that the decisions I’ve made through the course of life are right for me. Now that I have the kiddo’s these decisions are weighed a lot more carefully and I base the major ones on how it affects them as well as me.

One decision made almost a year ago is one that a particular someone still thinks was wrong and selfish but the more time that goes by the more I realize that this person is completely wrong. But he’s entitled to feel that way. So this big ass rant comes to my mind this morning when I read an excerpt from J.Lo’s interview with Vanity Fair. I would rather read about what antics celebrities are up to rather than read about parents killing their kids, the debt ceiling, and our never ending quest to be the worlds Jehovah’s Witnesses. Anyway.

J. Lo said something that hit home for me. It was eloquent and summed up why I did what I did. "Sometimes we don't realize that we are compromising ourselves. To understand that a person is not good for you, or that that person is not treating you in the right way, or that he is not doing the right thing for himself – if I stay, then I am not doing the right thing for me."

At some point well over a year ago, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't be the person that someone I thought loved me no matter what wanted me to be. I was being asked to compromise myself to be who he wanted me to be. It wasn’t a selfish request on his part because I fully admit that I was asking him to compromise himself to fit into something I wanted him to be. Bottom line was that I left because we were both trying to get each other to be someone we weren’t and that’s not fucking fair.