So I'd like to talk about something new today. Sex.
I know.....imagine that.....a blog talking about sex. That's never been done before.
All sarcasm and expectation aside, this is a serious topic. Especially the bit I'm going to mention.....
Having sex with a new person.
Now, you've already discovered yourself as a sexual being in this world. Hopefully. If not...well, this is going to be an interesting ride anyway so just hold on and keep reading.
Anyhoo, you've lost your "v-card" and have possibly even been to the level of sexual deviant. But whatever the arrangement that was previously feeding your new-found appetite for coitus (Relationship, FWB, or marriage), you now find yourself in a new relationship.
This relationship, however long it's been going on finds you poised now on.....well a different Edge of Glory than Gaga was actually talking about. I think. This is the mother monster......she could mean a world of innuendos here. But that's off topic.
Basically....what it comes down to is this.....you're about to have some form of sexual intercourse with your new gal or guy.
And you're thinking......Shit.
I mean....you're first thought when the whole thing is presented is probably not..."shit". It's probably something along the lines of garbled "OhYesBabyNowThereOhhhhh".
Unless....you know, it's around the time of date three or four....or fourteen (however you crazy kids handle it out there) and you're thinking, gosh, tonight could be the night.
You've been invited up to The Apartment. Or maybe they offered to make dinner at their place for the two of you. Maybe you've decided to be the bold one and ask them over. Whichever.
You now find yourself in a state of panic and anxious preparation. What the shit do you do now?
Here is this sexy person you're like having all sorts of fuzziness for and lo and behold they're in your place. Or you're in theirs. And something is going to happen. Tonight.
But...how does it start?
Well I'm here to tell you........I don't know either.
I'm just a Creative Writing BA with a love for romance novels and Homefries, my new boyfriend who's not so new because he was my friend for like 2 years but now he's more and there has been no sexy times yet and I don't know what I'm doing.
My dear friend Dash is putting together a playlist for me....one to help me with my SexAPeel. Yes, I spelled that correctly. It's supposed to help with my own lack of confidence in the whole sexual prowess department. If you think that would help you, do it. Make one. Pick like the most confident or sexual songs you can think of and put together a playlist on Youtube. It couldn't hurt.
Now, I'm a sexual being. Having been sexually active since 2007, I've certainly had enough sex ....with an ex. Whether it was actually good or not I have no idea since I don't really have anything to compare it to. If that's your deal too, don't worry about it. Everybody starts somewhere.
The main issue here then is....how hard is it to proposition someone?
Really hard.
Luckily there's a lot of options for the first move, some subtle and some more bold.
You could:
--Give them the come hither look.
You've seen it before. You probably know how to do it. Even if you're out of practice, you do know.
--Strip to music.
I'm not kidding. Shake your bon bon and throw them your thong thong.
--Shove them against the door.
That's pretty direct and a move best done immediately after arriving at your/their place.
--Get them drunk first.
NOOOOOOO. This was a trick answer. This one is a no-no. Getting them drunk to have your wicked way with them? That one is disrespectful. If you want their loving and not their revenge, don't write that bad romance with your alcohol.
Just...don't.
If you are at their abode, then they've got the upper hand. So....you could always wait for them to lead in this primitive dance into wild jungle sex.
But there's always the chance that they won't make the first move. Maybe you have a shy one? Maybe they want you to make the move?
Listen to me right now: Just because they're taking their sweet time initiating "it", THIS DOES NOT MEAN THAT THEY DON'T WANT YOU. You are dating each other. Trust me, they want you like a monkey wants a fucking banana tree.
Do not think negative, paranoid thoughts like that. They want your whole crazyass self for some inexplicable reason. Who really knows why. Just shut up that voice that's whispering in your head things like, "Why aren't they making a move? Why aren't they touching me in that manner?"
Chances are because you're nervous as hell, they're picking up on it. Your aura or outward appearance is quite possibly that of a duck about to be plucked.
Stop with the inner freakout and just BREATHE. Breathe deep breaths. It's all gonna be okay, buttercup. Deep breaths do not mean hyperventilate either. Deep, slow, calming breaths. Hyperventilating is most definitely not sexy.
Now, carefully watch their face. Pay special attention to their eyes. Eyes, as you probably know by now, are an excellent way to read what's going on inside someone else's head. And really....do you need another reason to stare into your significant other's gorgeous eyes?
Also, watch their lips. If they are licking or biting them, that means something. But especially watch eyes. If their eyes are giving you that look (you know which one) then go ahead with your seduction rituals.
You should know the "ooh" look. If not in your brain, then in your gut. That whole Look is like wired into your deepest core. Bet you won't miss it if you're really paying attention.
So, what's next?
I would suggest using a line.
Yes, I know you already got them, picked them up, hooked them in. But use a line anyway. Look, I know it's cheesy. That's the point.
You use a line because it's cheesy and silly and it'll make them feel better. You can both laugh over it and hopefully that will calm you down too. Breaks up those little nervy snakes in your stomach.
The next step: Get nekkid.
Somehow, you are going to get them out of thier clothing. How you do it is your own deal. I would assume that there has been some amount of making out previously. So, start there. Rip their clothes off. Be more persuasive about it. Something.
There are about two methods to getting down to sex, kind of like ripping off a band-aid. You either take it hair by freaking hair (inch by inch) or you rip that bitch off.
So pick your speed young grasshopper: are you a ripper or an incher?
If you're an incher (and if you're nervous as shit you probably are, at least at first) you take it all slow.
Think of it like, a love scene in a movie where the world is all candles and the music is slow but not like a porno. More like slow beats or someone singing lightly. Personally, I think my soundtrack is Kings of Leon.
But ultimately, it's your movie.
The main thing you need to remember is this: Yes, they're new to your hidden body parts and you're new to thier bits. But you have done this before so, you do know how everything works.
It's like....getting a new car. You learned how to drive already so you don't need the instruction manual anymore but this time....you're gonna feel your way out. How does it move around curves, how is it on gas, does it handle rough roads well.
You know essentially how it works but it's a different model than you had before. So drive it carefully. You're not gonna break it unless you're too rough. Just test it out.
They're doing the same exact thing, you know? The point is...you know this shit. You really do.
Being with a new person is scary. Sex is scary with a new person, just like love is. Last time you did "it", did you really think you were going to have anything with a different person? Maybe not but now you do have someone new.... and it's a little scary......the whole things scary.
But that's what makes it worth it. The fear, the nerves, the adrenaline, and all that fuzziness for that person that I mentioned before.
It's okay you know. I'm exactly like you. I'm figuring this out just like you are and admittedly, I'm scared as shit. But I figure when it comes down to it, when that moment actually happens, I'm gonna take some breaths so I don't freak out and more importantly, avoid freaking him out.
And even if it's awkward or silly or we're laughing or turning red in the face or falling off furniture....I figure the second I look right into his beautiful, funky eyes and see that Look, that oooh look mixed with the same crazy inner shit that's probably in my eyes.... everything's going to be okay.
Because guess what......they're thinking the same thing. Maybe not as much or maybe they hide it well or maybe both of you are on here reading this same blog for some reason. Whatever it is, these thoughts have crossed their mind too.
Trust that it's going to be okay.
Because it is. And yeah, sex changes your relationship but.....it ultimately make things more intimate between you and brings you closer together.
Hopefully. If not....well, come back here for more advice.I've been there, kid; I'll get ya through it.
And cross your fingers for my ass!
I'm crossing mine for you.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Why I Fear The Slopes
I have a confession to make: I didn't learn how to ski until I was 14.
This wouldn't seem odd at all until you realize that I live in Vermont......and skiing is basically the only reason we get tourists in the winter.
I mean, sure I'd been on skis before. At the age of 7, I was scooting around my very flat backyard on some flimsy bright red skis, trying to not cross them and die. But I had never been to an actual mountain.
It was about three or so days after Christmas and my uncle and aunt decided they were going to check out the powder. My aunt found out that I in fact did not know how to ski. Well that was apparently a crime.
"You should really go! It'll be great!"
I, of course, had no intentions of allowing my feet to be strapped to unreliable pieces of metal/plastic/wood/whatever the hell skis are made out of. But I have a really hard time saying no to people without coming across as rude. So I tried to ease out of it like..."Oh...I don't know...I mean....my nose is running.....and I"m kinda tired...."
Of course, there's no saying 'no' to my aunt. If you try to get out of doing something she suggests, she begins with the spiel of "You never know until you try!" or "I think it really would be a good thing for you...."
As it happens on most occasions when I try to politely and carefully extract myself from some brand new life-changing experience she tries to foist upon me, my aunt tried a new tactic. She brought it up loudly and brightly in front of my mother.
My mother, who is probably where I inherited the whole guilt complex about seeming rude for refusing to do something, did what mothers do when there's a chance to do something "exciting": She answered for me.
"Oh of course she'd love to go!" And then she turned to me, gave me a very serious Mom-face and informed me that I really should in fact go. Because apparently winter sports are good for me. The uncoordinated kid.
So that was how I found myself in the car heading off to some mountain with my aunt and uncle excitedly talking about how much fun it was going to be. And how I really needed to be more active and this was perfect.
I was trundled off into a beginner's class, where I nervously tried to avoid letting anyone know that I was in fact from Vermont. They would judge me surely for going 14 years without having learned how to ski. Other than a sad mishap, in which I neatly avoided a father and son from Connecticut and smacked into the instructor instead, the whole learning experience went all right. While I wasn't a very good skier, I could at least navigate the small slope they'd taken us on.
When I reconvened with my uncle and aunt, I told them about the success. After lunch, my aunt went off and my uncle insisted he'd take me up on another hill. We headed out....only he started walking in the wrong direction. I asked him where we were going.
"I'm taking you on a real hill." *looks determined*
"A.....real...hill?" O_O;
He pointed at this snow covered monstrosity and I had an instant case of cottonmouth. "But..um....the instructor suggested...the bunny slope..."
"Bunny hill? Pfff. You can do better than that."
The thing is.....when you get on the bigger hills, there's no truck to ride in or tow you up it. There's the actual lifts.
I managed to fall off of it when we got to the top, resulting in my uncle having to drag me out of the way. I took that as a bad omen but he was gung ho about the entire thing. By god, his niece was going to ski like a champ by the end of the afternoon.
We were perched at the edge of the slope and I was staring down, wide-eyed, as the trail rounded a corner and people whizzed past. There was no way in hell I was getting down there.
"Um...I think this was a bad idea."
"No it's not. C'mon. Let's go."
And so I tried. I went at an angle but because of the slope, I was moving much faster than I had previously. In sheer panic, my mind went blank and I managed to forget everything I'd just learned a couple of hours before. I was headed straight for trees and I began flailing trying to stop even as my uncle was calling out behind me "Turn! Turn!" The skis crossed and I fell painfully on the ground, nearly taking out someone who was trying to go by.
My uncle swooped over and tried to tell me again how to ski. That wasn't going to help though. I clung to the snow with gloved fingers, convinced I was going to fall off the world.
"I just want to go home." >_<
"The only way to do that is down this hill." >_< I was trapped. there was no other way down.....and I hated my life and everyone in it.
My uncle hauled me up and rambled at me about keeping my knees bent and shifting and braking and etc. It all sounded like blahblahblahrammarammablaghlatidah.
I tried to focus on making it down. But going in the opposite direction I was headed straight for trees again, only mixed with brambles and other unpleasant looking plant life. Fear struck my heart again and I did the only thing I could think of: I made myself fall.
Here was a solution. I could zigzag my way down and stop myself by plopping into the snow. Perfect. By the fifteenth time I'd done this, my uncle was fed up with me.
"Why can't you try skiing down? You just need to turn! It's going to be dark by the time we get down!"
I'd had enough as well. "You wanted me to ski down......I'M GETTING DOWN THE GODDAMN MOUNTAIN!" only by that time I'd burst into tears out of sheer frustration and terror, so it came out more like "YOU WANNA ME-----YYY TAH SKIIIII DOWWW I'M GERRRTING DOWWWW THA G-G-G-G-G-ODDAAM-M-M-MNNN MOUUUUUUUUUU---NTAAINN!!!!!!!"
My uncle threw up his hands and let me flop my way down the mountain like a dead fish. I was so happy to reach the bottom I nearly kissed the ground. But that would have required hitting the earth again and then clambering back up and I knew my knees and sides couldn't take much more of that.
And my uncle and aunt NEVER BROUGHT UP SKIING AGAIN.
Whether this is because it was too much of a hassle....or because they felt bad the next day when I woke up in a world of hurt and with the mother of all sinus infections the world may never know.
All I do know is this: I fear the mountain and with good reason.
This wouldn't seem odd at all until you realize that I live in Vermont......and skiing is basically the only reason we get tourists in the winter.
I mean, sure I'd been on skis before. At the age of 7, I was scooting around my very flat backyard on some flimsy bright red skis, trying to not cross them and die. But I had never been to an actual mountain.
It was about three or so days after Christmas and my uncle and aunt decided they were going to check out the powder. My aunt found out that I in fact did not know how to ski. Well that was apparently a crime.
"You should really go! It'll be great!"
I, of course, had no intentions of allowing my feet to be strapped to unreliable pieces of metal/plastic/wood/whatever the hell skis are made out of. But I have a really hard time saying no to people without coming across as rude. So I tried to ease out of it like..."Oh...I don't know...I mean....my nose is running.....and I"m kinda tired...."
Of course, there's no saying 'no' to my aunt. If you try to get out of doing something she suggests, she begins with the spiel of "You never know until you try!" or "I think it really would be a good thing for you...."
As it happens on most occasions when I try to politely and carefully extract myself from some brand new life-changing experience she tries to foist upon me, my aunt tried a new tactic. She brought it up loudly and brightly in front of my mother.
My mother, who is probably where I inherited the whole guilt complex about seeming rude for refusing to do something, did what mothers do when there's a chance to do something "exciting": She answered for me.
"Oh of course she'd love to go!" And then she turned to me, gave me a very serious Mom-face and informed me that I really should in fact go. Because apparently winter sports are good for me. The uncoordinated kid.
So that was how I found myself in the car heading off to some mountain with my aunt and uncle excitedly talking about how much fun it was going to be. And how I really needed to be more active and this was perfect.
I was trundled off into a beginner's class, where I nervously tried to avoid letting anyone know that I was in fact from Vermont. They would judge me surely for going 14 years without having learned how to ski. Other than a sad mishap, in which I neatly avoided a father and son from Connecticut and smacked into the instructor instead, the whole learning experience went all right. While I wasn't a very good skier, I could at least navigate the small slope they'd taken us on.
When I reconvened with my uncle and aunt, I told them about the success. After lunch, my aunt went off and my uncle insisted he'd take me up on another hill. We headed out....only he started walking in the wrong direction. I asked him where we were going.
"I'm taking you on a real hill." *looks determined*
"A.....real...hill?" O_O;
He pointed at this snow covered monstrosity and I had an instant case of cottonmouth. "But..um....the instructor suggested...the bunny slope..."
"Bunny hill? Pfff. You can do better than that."
The thing is.....when you get on the bigger hills, there's no truck to ride in or tow you up it. There's the actual lifts.
I managed to fall off of it when we got to the top, resulting in my uncle having to drag me out of the way. I took that as a bad omen but he was gung ho about the entire thing. By god, his niece was going to ski like a champ by the end of the afternoon.
We were perched at the edge of the slope and I was staring down, wide-eyed, as the trail rounded a corner and people whizzed past. There was no way in hell I was getting down there.
"Um...I think this was a bad idea."
"No it's not. C'mon. Let's go."
And so I tried. I went at an angle but because of the slope, I was moving much faster than I had previously. In sheer panic, my mind went blank and I managed to forget everything I'd just learned a couple of hours before. I was headed straight for trees and I began flailing trying to stop even as my uncle was calling out behind me "Turn! Turn!" The skis crossed and I fell painfully on the ground, nearly taking out someone who was trying to go by.
My uncle swooped over and tried to tell me again how to ski. That wasn't going to help though. I clung to the snow with gloved fingers, convinced I was going to fall off the world.
"I just want to go home." >_<
"The only way to do that is down this hill." >_< I was trapped. there was no other way down.....and I hated my life and everyone in it.
My uncle hauled me up and rambled at me about keeping my knees bent and shifting and braking and etc. It all sounded like blahblahblahrammarammablaghlatidah.
I tried to focus on making it down. But going in the opposite direction I was headed straight for trees again, only mixed with brambles and other unpleasant looking plant life. Fear struck my heart again and I did the only thing I could think of: I made myself fall.
Here was a solution. I could zigzag my way down and stop myself by plopping into the snow. Perfect. By the fifteenth time I'd done this, my uncle was fed up with me.
"Why can't you try skiing down? You just need to turn! It's going to be dark by the time we get down!"
I'd had enough as well. "You wanted me to ski down......I'M GETTING DOWN THE GODDAMN MOUNTAIN!" only by that time I'd burst into tears out of sheer frustration and terror, so it came out more like "YOU WANNA ME-----YYY TAH SKIIIII DOWWW I'M GERRRTING DOWWWW THA G-G-G-G-G-ODDAAM-M-M-MNNN MOUUUUUUUUUU---NTAAINN!!!!!!!"
My uncle threw up his hands and let me flop my way down the mountain like a dead fish. I was so happy to reach the bottom I nearly kissed the ground. But that would have required hitting the earth again and then clambering back up and I knew my knees and sides couldn't take much more of that.
And my uncle and aunt NEVER BROUGHT UP SKIING AGAIN.
Whether this is because it was too much of a hassle....or because they felt bad the next day when I woke up in a world of hurt and with the mother of all sinus infections the world may never know.
All I do know is this: I fear the mountain and with good reason.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
yeah that's how I feel.....fucker
I'm just better off without you....
Tell Me I'm A Wreck--Every Avenue
I COULD HAVE BEEN EASIER ON YOU
I COULD HAVE BEEN ALL YOU HELD ONTO
I know I wasn't fair,
I tried my best to care about you
I know I could have been a better man
But always had to have the upper hand
I'm struggling to see the better side of me
But I CAN'T TAKE ALL YOUR JABS AND TAUNTS
You're pointing out my every fault
AND YOU WONDER WHY I WALKED AWAY
WHEN YOU TELL ME I'M A WRECK
YOU SAY THAT I'M A MESS
HOW COULD YOU EXPECT ANYTHING LESS?
You latched onto me then cried I strung you along
I told you when you asked
I knew this wouldn't last
At least I could be honest about that
And now you're telling everyone
How I only did you wrong
I guess you never knew me at all
Remember on my 21st birthday
You took me where we went on our first date
We stayed till closing time,
after 4 glasses of wine
You started with a pointless argument
You said that I forgot to compliment
The dress you wore that night
That I've seen a thousand times
BUT I THINK WE JUST WANT DIFFERENT THINGS
I WANT SPACE, YOU WANT A DIAMOND RING
Whatever made you think we were meant to be?
When you tell me I'm a wreck
You say that I'm a mess
How could you expect anything less?
You latched onto me then cried I strung you along
I told you when you asked
I knew this wouldn't last
At least I could be honest about that
And now you're telling everyone
How I only did you wrong
I guess you never knew me at all
You tell me I'm a wreck
You say that I'm a mess
How could you expect anything less
When you tell me I'm a wreck
You say that I'm a mess
How could you expect anything less?
You latched onto me then cried I strung you along
I told you when you asked
I knew this wouldn't last
At least I could be honest about that
And now you're telling everyone
How I only did you wrong
STILL I SEE YOU STANDING THERE
WAITING 'ROUND FOR ME TO FALL
Girl YOU MUST BE CRAZY
STILL BELIEVING YOU AND ME BELONG
I GUESS YOU NEVER KNEW ME AT ALL.
Wounded--Third Eye Blind
The guy who put his hands on you,
has got nothing to do with me.
And the bruises that you feel will heal
and I hope you come around,
cause we're missing you.
You used to speak so easy,
now you're afaid to talk to me.
Its like walking with the wounded.
Carrying that weight way too far,
the concrete pulled you down so hard
out there with the wounded,
We're missing you.
Well I never claimed to understand
what happens after dark,
but my fingers catch the sparks
at the thought of touching you,
When you're wounded
lemme break it down til I force the issue,
we miss your face and you know I wish you would
come back down to the Delva Bar
you tell em' ,"That's just my battle scar."
I wanna kiss you, and knock em down like we used to
you're a marigold
till you're walking down shaking that ass again,
then you walk on, baby, walk on, you walk on.
on and on
you're an angel in the pit with her hands in the air
and we're missing you.
Now it's fall and your shoulders get tighter
nervous flicks on your lighter...boots
your pissed off poets
your women's groups
and the friends with you we should've known this fool
well I guess we missed the mark,
still my fingers catch the sparks at the thought of
them touching you
now your wounded
Lemme break it down till I force the issue
you never come around and you know we miss you
WELL NOBODY TOOK YOUR PRIDE AWAY
I SAID "THAT'S SOMETHING PEOPLE SAY."
BACK DOWN THE BULLY TO THE BACK OF THE BUS,
'CAUSE IT'S TIME FOR THEM TO BE SCARED OF US
till you're yelling how we're living cause you got the ball
and then you rock on, baby, rock on, you rock on.
on and on.
you're a summertime hottie with her socks in the air,
you're screaming I dont care baby I dont care no
you say you dont know, you say here we go now,
all I know is we're missing you
you say you dont know, you say here we go now,
all I know is we're missing you
show up, show up wounded
show up, show up wounded
What The Hell--Avril Lavigne
You say that I'm messing with your head (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
All 'cause I was making out with your friends (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
LOVE HURTS WHETHER IT'S RIGHT OR WRONG (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I can't stop 'cause I'm having too much fun (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
YOU'RE ON YOUR KNEES
BEGGING PLEASE
STAY WITH ME
BUT HONESTLY
I JUST NEED TO BE A LITTLE CRAZY
ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN GOOD BUT NOW WHOA I'M THINKING WHAT THE HELL
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about
If you love me, if you hate me, you can't save me, baby, baby
All my life I've been good but now, whoa, what the hell
What... what... what... What the hell?
SO WHAT IF I GO OUT ON A MILLION DATES (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
YOU NEVER CALL OR LISTEN TO ME ANYWAY (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'D RATHER RAGE THAN SIT AROUND AND WAIT ALL DAY (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Don't get me wrong. I just need some time to play-ay (yeah)
You're on your knees
Begging please
Stay with me
But honestly
I just need to be a little crazy
All my life I've been good but now, whoa I'm thinking what the hell
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about
If you love me, if you hate me
You can't save me, baby, baby
All my life I've been good but now, whoa, what the hell
La la la la la la la la... Woah... Woah...
La la la la la la la la... Woah... Woah...
You say that I'm messing with your head
Boy, I like messing in your bed
Yeah, I am messing with your head
When I'm messing with you in bed
All my life I've been good but now, whoa I'm thinking what the hell (what the hell)
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about (I don't care about)
All my life I've been good but now, whoa I'm thinking what the hell
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about. (if you love me)
If you love me (no), if you hate me (no)
You can't save me, baby, baby (if you love me)
ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN GOOD BUT NOW WHOOOOOOA WHAT THE HELL!
La la, La la la la la la, La la, La la la la la la la
King of Anything--Sara Bareilles (I think this is my new theme song...seriously)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Keep drinkin' coffee
Stare me down across the table
While I look outside
So many things I'd say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet
And count the cars that pass by
You've got opinions, man
We're all entitled to 'em
But I never asked
So let me thank you for your time
And try to not waste any more of mine
Get out of here fast
I hate to break it to you babe
But I'm not drowning
There's no one here to save
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
You sound so innocent
All full of good intent
You swear you know best
But you expect me to
Jump up on board with you
Ride off into your delusional sunset
I'm not the one who's lost
With no direction oh
But you won't ever see
You're so busy makin' maps
With my name on them in all caps
You got the talkin' down
Just not the listening
And who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
All my life
I've tried
To make everybody happy while I
Just hurt
And hide
Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn
To decide
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
Let me hold your crown, babe
Oh oh
Ah
Little Miss--Sugarland
Little Miss Down On Love
Little Miss I Give Up
Little Miss I'LL GET TOUGH
DON'T YOU WORRY 'BOUT ME ANYMORE
Little Miss Checkered Dress
Little Miss One Big Mess
Little Miss I'LL TAKE LESS
WHEN I ALWAYS GIVE SO MUCH MORE
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Yeah, SOMETIMES YA GOTTA LOSE 'TIL YOU WIN
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
IT'LL BE ALRIGHT AGAIN
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
(Okay)
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
Little Miss Do Your Best
Little Miss Never Rest
Little Miss Be My Guest
I'll Make More Anytime That It Runs Out
Little Miss You'll Go Far
Little Miss Hide Your Scars
Little Miss Who You Are
Is So Much More Than You Like To Talk About
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Yeah, sometimes you gotta lose 'til you win
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
And it'll be alright again
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
(Okay)
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
Oh, Lord
Oh, and you are loved
Are loved
Little Miss Brand New Start
Little Miss Do Your Part
Little Miss Big Ol' Heart Beats Wide Open
She's ready now for love
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Well, sometimes you gotta lose 'til you win
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
It'll be alright again
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
(Okay)
It'll be alright again, I'M OKAY
IT'LL BE ALRIGHT AGAIN
Imperfection--Saving Jane
MY HAIR'S A WRECK
Mascara runs
MY FEET GET DIRTY
AND MY SKIN BURNS IN THE SUN.
My lips they bleed
But I still sing my songs.
TAKES ME A MINUTE
TO ADMIT IT WHEN I'M WRONG.
Pretty is as pretty does,
BUT PRETTY'S NOT MY THING.
THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!
THIS IS WHO I AM!
TAKE ME NOW OR LEAVE ME
ANY WAY YOU CAN.
SOMETIMES I TRIP AND FALL
BUT I KNOW WHERE I STAND.
AND IF YOU'RE THINKING ABOUT CHANGING MY DIRECTION,
DON'T MESS WITH IMPERFECTION.
MY BACK IS WEAK,
BUT MY WILL IS TRUE.
Got good intentions
But I never follow through.
I say too much,
And don't know when to leave.
IN CASE YOU'RE LOOKIN',
THAT'S MY HEART THERE ON MY SLEEVE.
Ego trips and stupid slip ups,
I'm a mess but
This is what you get.
This is who I am.
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can.
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand.
And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.
Scratched and bruised,
A little used,
But baby I work fine.
You might call me
Damaged goods,
But I'm one of a kind.
My hair's a wreck,
No I'm not perfect
But I'm not the only one.
This is what you get.
This is who I am.
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can.
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand.
And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.
This is who I am.
And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.
You Don't Own Me--Lesley Gore
You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me, don't say I can't go with other boys
And don't tell me what to do
And don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display, 'cause
You don't own me, don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me, don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay
Oh, I don't tell you what to say
I don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you
I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please
A-a-a-nd don't tell me what to do
Oh-h-h-h don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display
I don't tell you what to say
Oh-h-h-h don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you
I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
Freak The Freak Out--Victoria Justice
Are you listening, hear me talk, hear me sing
Open up the door, easy less, easy more
When you tell me to beware, are you here, are you there
Is there something I should know, easy come, easy go
Out of your head, don't hear a word I said
I can't communicate when you wait, don't relate
I try to talk to you, but you never even knew
So what's it gonna be, tell me, can you hear me
I'm so sick of it, your attention defecit,
Never listen, you never listen
I'm so sick of it, go and throw another fit
Never listen, you never listen
CHORUS:
I scream your name, It always stays the same
I scream and shout
So what I'm gonna do now is freak the freak out
Whoa oh (4x)
Easy come easy go
(can you hear me?)
CHORUS:
I scream your name, It always stays the same
I scream and shout
So what I'm gonna do now is freak the freak out
Whoa oh (4x)
I scream your name, but you never listen
But you never listen
But you never listen....
According To You--Orianthi (yyyyeaaah)
According to you
I’m stupid,
I’m useless,
I can’t do anything right.
According to you
I’m difficult,
hard to please,
forever changing my mind.
I’m a mess in a dress,
can’t show up on time,
even if it would save my life.
According to you. According to you.
But according to him
I’m beautiful,
incredible,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
irresistible,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping it,
so baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you.
According to you
I’m boring,
I’m moody,
and you can’t take me any place.
According to you
I suck at telling jokes cause I always give it away.
I’m the girl with the worst attention span;
you’re the boy who puts up with that.
According to you. According to you.
But according to him
I’m beautiful,
incredible,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
irresistible,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping that,
so baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you.
I need to feel appreciated,
like I’m not hated. Oh no
Why can’t you see me through his eyes?
It’s too bad you’re making me decide
But according to me
you’re stupid,
you’re useless,
you can’t do anything right.
But according to him
I’m beautiful,
incredible,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
irresistible,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping it,
baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you. [you, you]
According to you. [you, you]
According to you
I’m stupid,
I’m useless,
I can't do anything right....
See?
Tell Me I'm A Wreck--Every Avenue
I COULD HAVE BEEN EASIER ON YOU
I COULD HAVE BEEN ALL YOU HELD ONTO
I know I wasn't fair,
I tried my best to care about you
I know I could have been a better man
But always had to have the upper hand
I'm struggling to see the better side of me
But I CAN'T TAKE ALL YOUR JABS AND TAUNTS
You're pointing out my every fault
AND YOU WONDER WHY I WALKED AWAY
WHEN YOU TELL ME I'M A WRECK
YOU SAY THAT I'M A MESS
HOW COULD YOU EXPECT ANYTHING LESS?
You latched onto me then cried I strung you along
I told you when you asked
I knew this wouldn't last
At least I could be honest about that
And now you're telling everyone
How I only did you wrong
I guess you never knew me at all
Remember on my 21st birthday
You took me where we went on our first date
We stayed till closing time,
after 4 glasses of wine
You started with a pointless argument
You said that I forgot to compliment
The dress you wore that night
That I've seen a thousand times
BUT I THINK WE JUST WANT DIFFERENT THINGS
I WANT SPACE, YOU WANT A DIAMOND RING
Whatever made you think we were meant to be?
When you tell me I'm a wreck
You say that I'm a mess
How could you expect anything less?
You latched onto me then cried I strung you along
I told you when you asked
I knew this wouldn't last
At least I could be honest about that
And now you're telling everyone
How I only did you wrong
I guess you never knew me at all
You tell me I'm a wreck
You say that I'm a mess
How could you expect anything less
When you tell me I'm a wreck
You say that I'm a mess
How could you expect anything less?
You latched onto me then cried I strung you along
I told you when you asked
I knew this wouldn't last
At least I could be honest about that
And now you're telling everyone
How I only did you wrong
STILL I SEE YOU STANDING THERE
WAITING 'ROUND FOR ME TO FALL
Girl YOU MUST BE CRAZY
STILL BELIEVING YOU AND ME BELONG
I GUESS YOU NEVER KNEW ME AT ALL.
Wounded--Third Eye Blind
The guy who put his hands on you,
has got nothing to do with me.
And the bruises that you feel will heal
and I hope you come around,
cause we're missing you.
You used to speak so easy,
now you're afaid to talk to me.
Its like walking with the wounded.
Carrying that weight way too far,
the concrete pulled you down so hard
out there with the wounded,
We're missing you.
Well I never claimed to understand
what happens after dark,
but my fingers catch the sparks
at the thought of touching you,
When you're wounded
lemme break it down til I force the issue,
we miss your face and you know I wish you would
come back down to the Delva Bar
you tell em' ,"That's just my battle scar."
I wanna kiss you, and knock em down like we used to
you're a marigold
till you're walking down shaking that ass again,
then you walk on, baby, walk on, you walk on.
on and on
you're an angel in the pit with her hands in the air
and we're missing you.
Now it's fall and your shoulders get tighter
nervous flicks on your lighter...boots
your pissed off poets
your women's groups
and the friends with you we should've known this fool
well I guess we missed the mark,
still my fingers catch the sparks at the thought of
them touching you
now your wounded
Lemme break it down till I force the issue
you never come around and you know we miss you
WELL NOBODY TOOK YOUR PRIDE AWAY
I SAID "THAT'S SOMETHING PEOPLE SAY."
BACK DOWN THE BULLY TO THE BACK OF THE BUS,
'CAUSE IT'S TIME FOR THEM TO BE SCARED OF US
till you're yelling how we're living cause you got the ball
and then you rock on, baby, rock on, you rock on.
on and on.
you're a summertime hottie with her socks in the air,
you're screaming I dont care baby I dont care no
you say you dont know, you say here we go now,
all I know is we're missing you
you say you dont know, you say here we go now,
all I know is we're missing you
show up, show up wounded
show up, show up wounded
What The Hell--Avril Lavigne
You say that I'm messing with your head (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
All 'cause I was making out with your friends (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
LOVE HURTS WHETHER IT'S RIGHT OR WRONG (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I can't stop 'cause I'm having too much fun (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
YOU'RE ON YOUR KNEES
BEGGING PLEASE
STAY WITH ME
BUT HONESTLY
I JUST NEED TO BE A LITTLE CRAZY
ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN GOOD BUT NOW WHOA I'M THINKING WHAT THE HELL
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about
If you love me, if you hate me, you can't save me, baby, baby
All my life I've been good but now, whoa, what the hell
What... what... what... What the hell?
SO WHAT IF I GO OUT ON A MILLION DATES (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
YOU NEVER CALL OR LISTEN TO ME ANYWAY (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'D RATHER RAGE THAN SIT AROUND AND WAIT ALL DAY (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Don't get me wrong. I just need some time to play-ay (yeah)
You're on your knees
Begging please
Stay with me
But honestly
I just need to be a little crazy
All my life I've been good but now, whoa I'm thinking what the hell
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about
If you love me, if you hate me
You can't save me, baby, baby
All my life I've been good but now, whoa, what the hell
La la la la la la la la... Woah... Woah...
La la la la la la la la... Woah... Woah...
You say that I'm messing with your head
Boy, I like messing in your bed
Yeah, I am messing with your head
When I'm messing with you in bed
All my life I've been good but now, whoa I'm thinking what the hell (what the hell)
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about (I don't care about)
All my life I've been good but now, whoa I'm thinking what the hell
All I want is to mess around and I don't really care about. (if you love me)
If you love me (no), if you hate me (no)
You can't save me, baby, baby (if you love me)
ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN GOOD BUT NOW WHOOOOOOA WHAT THE HELL!
La la, La la la la la la, La la, La la la la la la la
King of Anything--Sara Bareilles (I think this is my new theme song...seriously)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Keep drinkin' coffee
Stare me down across the table
While I look outside
So many things I'd say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet
And count the cars that pass by
You've got opinions, man
We're all entitled to 'em
But I never asked
So let me thank you for your time
And try to not waste any more of mine
Get out of here fast
I hate to break it to you babe
But I'm not drowning
There's no one here to save
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
You sound so innocent
All full of good intent
You swear you know best
But you expect me to
Jump up on board with you
Ride off into your delusional sunset
I'm not the one who's lost
With no direction oh
But you won't ever see
You're so busy makin' maps
With my name on them in all caps
You got the talkin' down
Just not the listening
And who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
All my life
I've tried
To make everybody happy while I
Just hurt
And hide
Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn
To decide
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything?
Let me hold your crown, babe
Oh oh
Ah
Little Miss--Sugarland
Little Miss Down On Love
Little Miss I Give Up
Little Miss I'LL GET TOUGH
DON'T YOU WORRY 'BOUT ME ANYMORE
Little Miss Checkered Dress
Little Miss One Big Mess
Little Miss I'LL TAKE LESS
WHEN I ALWAYS GIVE SO MUCH MORE
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Yeah, SOMETIMES YA GOTTA LOSE 'TIL YOU WIN
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
IT'LL BE ALRIGHT AGAIN
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
(Okay)
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
Little Miss Do Your Best
Little Miss Never Rest
Little Miss Be My Guest
I'll Make More Anytime That It Runs Out
Little Miss You'll Go Far
Little Miss Hide Your Scars
Little Miss Who You Are
Is So Much More Than You Like To Talk About
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Yeah, sometimes you gotta lose 'til you win
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
And it'll be alright again
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
(Okay)
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
Oh, Lord
Oh, and you are loved
Are loved
Little Miss Brand New Start
Little Miss Do Your Part
Little Miss Big Ol' Heart Beats Wide Open
She's ready now for love
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Well, sometimes you gotta lose 'til you win
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
It'll be alright again
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
It'll be alright again, I'm okay
(Okay)
It'll be alright again, I'M OKAY
IT'LL BE ALRIGHT AGAIN
Imperfection--Saving Jane
MY HAIR'S A WRECK
Mascara runs
MY FEET GET DIRTY
AND MY SKIN BURNS IN THE SUN.
My lips they bleed
But I still sing my songs.
TAKES ME A MINUTE
TO ADMIT IT WHEN I'M WRONG.
Pretty is as pretty does,
BUT PRETTY'S NOT MY THING.
THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!
THIS IS WHO I AM!
TAKE ME NOW OR LEAVE ME
ANY WAY YOU CAN.
SOMETIMES I TRIP AND FALL
BUT I KNOW WHERE I STAND.
AND IF YOU'RE THINKING ABOUT CHANGING MY DIRECTION,
DON'T MESS WITH IMPERFECTION.
MY BACK IS WEAK,
BUT MY WILL IS TRUE.
Got good intentions
But I never follow through.
I say too much,
And don't know when to leave.
IN CASE YOU'RE LOOKIN',
THAT'S MY HEART THERE ON MY SLEEVE.
Ego trips and stupid slip ups,
I'm a mess but
This is what you get.
This is who I am.
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can.
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand.
And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.
Scratched and bruised,
A little used,
But baby I work fine.
You might call me
Damaged goods,
But I'm one of a kind.
My hair's a wreck,
No I'm not perfect
But I'm not the only one.
This is what you get.
This is who I am.
Take me now or leave me
Any way you can.
Sometimes I trip and fall
But I know where I stand.
And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.
This is who I am.
And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.
You Don't Own Me--Lesley Gore
You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me, don't say I can't go with other boys
And don't tell me what to do
And don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display, 'cause
You don't own me, don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me, don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay
Oh, I don't tell you what to say
I don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you
I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please
A-a-a-nd don't tell me what to do
Oh-h-h-h don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display
I don't tell you what to say
Oh-h-h-h don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you
I'm young and I love to be young
I'm free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
Freak The Freak Out--Victoria Justice
Are you listening, hear me talk, hear me sing
Open up the door, easy less, easy more
When you tell me to beware, are you here, are you there
Is there something I should know, easy come, easy go
Out of your head, don't hear a word I said
I can't communicate when you wait, don't relate
I try to talk to you, but you never even knew
So what's it gonna be, tell me, can you hear me
I'm so sick of it, your attention defecit,
Never listen, you never listen
I'm so sick of it, go and throw another fit
Never listen, you never listen
CHORUS:
I scream your name, It always stays the same
I scream and shout
So what I'm gonna do now is freak the freak out
Whoa oh (4x)
Easy come easy go
(can you hear me?)
CHORUS:
I scream your name, It always stays the same
I scream and shout
So what I'm gonna do now is freak the freak out
Whoa oh (4x)
I scream your name, but you never listen
But you never listen
But you never listen....
According To You--Orianthi (yyyyeaaah)
According to you
I’m stupid,
I’m useless,
I can’t do anything right.
According to you
I’m difficult,
hard to please,
forever changing my mind.
I’m a mess in a dress,
can’t show up on time,
even if it would save my life.
According to you. According to you.
But according to him
I’m beautiful,
incredible,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
irresistible,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping it,
so baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you.
According to you
I’m boring,
I’m moody,
and you can’t take me any place.
According to you
I suck at telling jokes cause I always give it away.
I’m the girl with the worst attention span;
you’re the boy who puts up with that.
According to you. According to you.
But according to him
I’m beautiful,
incredible,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
irresistible,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping that,
so baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you.
I need to feel appreciated,
like I’m not hated. Oh no
Why can’t you see me through his eyes?
It’s too bad you’re making me decide
But according to me
you’re stupid,
you’re useless,
you can’t do anything right.
But according to him
I’m beautiful,
incredible,
he can’t get me out of his head.
According to him
I’m funny,
irresistible,
everything he ever wanted.
Everything is opposite,
I don’t feel like stopping it,
baby tell me what I got to lose.
He’s into me for everything I’m not,
according to you. [you, you]
According to you. [you, you]
According to you
I’m stupid,
I’m useless,
I can't do anything right....
See?
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I Used to Be My Own Protection But Not Now 'Cause My Mind Has Lost Direction Somehow
I didn't want to tell anyone anything.
If I did, if I actually said it, then that would be acknoweldging an actual event. It would become real.
So it took me four hours to actually admit it. Out loud.
My grandfather died.
He liked to tell little birdie stories before each person opened thier Christmas presents. My dad started doing it too after awhile. I used to hate waiting for the story to be over....
"A little birdie told me that you were looking for....."
The dining room was where most residents were. my grandother was in there too, insisting that she wasn't hungry. My mother cut up her ham and because she went to the trouble, Gramma ate much of it. She's always been a finicky eater, not able to do much once her stomach is feeling the least bit out of wack.
Something I probably inherited from her, I suppose.
When it seemed like she really wasn't going to eat anymore, we got ready to go elsewhere. And for the breifest of seconds, I had this thought......that gee, Grampa could be just taking a nap or sitting around in his room. But then again, he'd never leave Gramma during a meal. Be on his own while she played bingo, yes. But they always ate together.
The Boy and I stood most of the time by her table. Boy insisted that he wanted to stand after being in the car for two hours. I just couldn't bring myself to sit in one of the two chairs pulled up next to my grandmother. Because Grampa would be sitting on that side in his wheelchair and if I sat down that acknoweldged......but it had already been acknowledged.
When we left to head out the door, we made a kind of processional through the hallways, all of us following my grandmother as he went to her room. And my mixed up thoughts wondered, is this a foreshadowing of some kind? A showing of what came later as far as lines go?
And was that feeling, that instant sad feeling before I left on Thanksgiving, that feeling that had me glancing back after I'd said goodbye to Grampa for the second time, glancing back to his bent figure, leaning his head on his hand......was that a foreshadowing?
Was that intuition, that had me glancing back over my shoulder as I left? The last image I have of him, tired and discontent, leaning his head on one hand, staring down.......
I didn't look in his room as we left. His nametag was still on the door......and the rage that I had expected to boil up (because I had figured that they wuld have ripped it off, shoved another person in there already because that's the way the world works)fell into some sort of numbness. They hadn't replaced him.
He once showed me a picture that hung over his desk in their old apartment. It was a big balck and white one of a very pretty dark haired girl. "Who do you think that is?" he asked me.
"Well," I said carefully. "It kinda looks like aunt Dianne.....but her clothes are older so....is that Gramma?"
"Yes it is. Prettiest girl I ever saw."
From the sounds of it, it was love at first sight. She was 18, he was about 25. Three months later they were married. It would have been 70 years next April.
Doppelganger told me that it's ok to let myself be upset. She lost her grandfather about a month and a half ago. She said she knew she tried to hold it in but that didn't work.
That if I'm as much of a Scorpio as she is, I try to keep it all inside, because I feel like crying's a weakness....like I have to be the strong one. Cool and calm, at least when there is sadness.
I knew that. I'd gone along to my great-uncle's funeral mainly to support my mother. She needed me and I couldn't cry then because I had to hold her up.
I was the ice queen all weekend. I showed joy but nothing else. Stayed up late with Boy talking and playing games and watching movies so I would be exhausted and go right to sleep instead of thinking.
And whenever anyone caught me staring off into space, they'd ask, are you ok? And that mask slides over my face. "I'm fine."
He used to call me "Jen dear." And every single time I would go to visit them when they were still living on their own, he would at some point pull me over to the corner wall by the bathroom and have me stand up against the wall. And hten he would mark off my height in pen. The last few times we did that, my height hadn't really changed at all....but he still marked the spot on the wall.
I came home from taking a short walk with The Boy and found my parents discussing headstones. As I slowly put my coat and scarf and sweatshirt in my room, I tried to focus on other things.
And when I came back out, those papers were out of sight.
Out of sight but definitely not out of mind.
My parents were talking to me after we ate dinner one night. The topic was of course my grandparents.
And Dad said, "You may believe it or not but there was never a time where my father didn't ask about you. He was always thinking about you."
I barely remember a time when he wasn't bent over....but I missed the times when he could still walk.
I thought he was strange for many years.......I was such a stupid child.
It was a memorial service. Pictures, flowers, a folded American flag and a small podium to speak from. In that sense, I was tankful that the last vision I have of my grandafather was that tired and melancholy figure in the nursing home. He was still existing, he was still in this realm, though he'd changed from who I'd grown up with.
The funeral home smelled medicinal, like a million bad chemicals that I didn't want to know about.
Gramma came in crying. This continued as people made a line over to her, to hug and say I'm sorry before taking seats behind her.
When I sat down, I looked around me, hardly believing that we were there. But we all were.
The director was wearing shoes that were much too long for him. They made him look like he had long, floppy, troll feet. Why was he wearing such weird shoes?
Why were we here? Why were we laughing at memories and stories even though it hurt? Why was there now a wet drop on the handout they'd given me? Why does Boy keep rubbing my damn shoulder?
When we go back, we won't have to stop in two rooms anymore. No more wet kisses on my forehead or cheek. No singing at random. No more "sacre numdi chrishan rouge." And I never even asked what that meant.
And as I listened to the memories, I realized that there was a hell of alot that I didn't know about my grandfather. I didn't know he was called Senator due to some funny stunt my uncle Dick pulled in Virginia.
And everyone keeps asking, "How are you?" or "How are you doing?" And there's only so many times you can say "Ok" or "I'm fine."
And it's said in an almost bewildered tone. Why wouldn't I be fine? And then you remember.
they mean well......all of them mean well. But the real and cyber hugs, the I-love-you's, the I'm-sorry's, all of them culminate into one giant response after the 30th time someone asks, "How are you doing?"
And instead of saying, "I'm fine" I want to shout, "I've just lost my grandfather, a wonderful man who I didn't appreciate for the first 13 years of my life, a man that I'm beginning to realize I didn't know a whole lot about. And now I don't have the chance to ask him any questions or to hear more stories becuase the timer has run out and I thought there was more sand on his end. How do you really THINK I am doing right now?!"
But that outburst, while probably emotionally valid, would be rude. And quite uncalled for.
Yesterday--The Beatles
Yesterday,
All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
Why she
Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Why she
Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.
If I did, if I actually said it, then that would be acknoweldging an actual event. It would become real.
So it took me four hours to actually admit it. Out loud.
My grandfather died.
He liked to tell little birdie stories before each person opened thier Christmas presents. My dad started doing it too after awhile. I used to hate waiting for the story to be over....
"A little birdie told me that you were looking for....."
The dining room was where most residents were. my grandother was in there too, insisting that she wasn't hungry. My mother cut up her ham and because she went to the trouble, Gramma ate much of it. She's always been a finicky eater, not able to do much once her stomach is feeling the least bit out of wack.
Something I probably inherited from her, I suppose.
When it seemed like she really wasn't going to eat anymore, we got ready to go elsewhere. And for the breifest of seconds, I had this thought......that gee, Grampa could be just taking a nap or sitting around in his room. But then again, he'd never leave Gramma during a meal. Be on his own while she played bingo, yes. But they always ate together.
The Boy and I stood most of the time by her table. Boy insisted that he wanted to stand after being in the car for two hours. I just couldn't bring myself to sit in one of the two chairs pulled up next to my grandmother. Because Grampa would be sitting on that side in his wheelchair and if I sat down that acknoweldged......but it had already been acknowledged.
When we left to head out the door, we made a kind of processional through the hallways, all of us following my grandmother as he went to her room. And my mixed up thoughts wondered, is this a foreshadowing of some kind? A showing of what came later as far as lines go?
And was that feeling, that instant sad feeling before I left on Thanksgiving, that feeling that had me glancing back after I'd said goodbye to Grampa for the second time, glancing back to his bent figure, leaning his head on his hand......was that a foreshadowing?
Was that intuition, that had me glancing back over my shoulder as I left? The last image I have of him, tired and discontent, leaning his head on one hand, staring down.......
I didn't look in his room as we left. His nametag was still on the door......and the rage that I had expected to boil up (because I had figured that they wuld have ripped it off, shoved another person in there already because that's the way the world works)fell into some sort of numbness. They hadn't replaced him.
He once showed me a picture that hung over his desk in their old apartment. It was a big balck and white one of a very pretty dark haired girl. "Who do you think that is?" he asked me.
"Well," I said carefully. "It kinda looks like aunt Dianne.....but her clothes are older so....is that Gramma?"
"Yes it is. Prettiest girl I ever saw."
From the sounds of it, it was love at first sight. She was 18, he was about 25. Three months later they were married. It would have been 70 years next April.
Doppelganger told me that it's ok to let myself be upset. She lost her grandfather about a month and a half ago. She said she knew she tried to hold it in but that didn't work.
That if I'm as much of a Scorpio as she is, I try to keep it all inside, because I feel like crying's a weakness....like I have to be the strong one. Cool and calm, at least when there is sadness.
I knew that. I'd gone along to my great-uncle's funeral mainly to support my mother. She needed me and I couldn't cry then because I had to hold her up.
I was the ice queen all weekend. I showed joy but nothing else. Stayed up late with Boy talking and playing games and watching movies so I would be exhausted and go right to sleep instead of thinking.
And whenever anyone caught me staring off into space, they'd ask, are you ok? And that mask slides over my face. "I'm fine."
He used to call me "Jen dear." And every single time I would go to visit them when they were still living on their own, he would at some point pull me over to the corner wall by the bathroom and have me stand up against the wall. And hten he would mark off my height in pen. The last few times we did that, my height hadn't really changed at all....but he still marked the spot on the wall.
I came home from taking a short walk with The Boy and found my parents discussing headstones. As I slowly put my coat and scarf and sweatshirt in my room, I tried to focus on other things.
And when I came back out, those papers were out of sight.
Out of sight but definitely not out of mind.
My parents were talking to me after we ate dinner one night. The topic was of course my grandparents.
And Dad said, "You may believe it or not but there was never a time where my father didn't ask about you. He was always thinking about you."
I barely remember a time when he wasn't bent over....but I missed the times when he could still walk.
I thought he was strange for many years.......I was such a stupid child.
It was a memorial service. Pictures, flowers, a folded American flag and a small podium to speak from. In that sense, I was tankful that the last vision I have of my grandafather was that tired and melancholy figure in the nursing home. He was still existing, he was still in this realm, though he'd changed from who I'd grown up with.
The funeral home smelled medicinal, like a million bad chemicals that I didn't want to know about.
Gramma came in crying. This continued as people made a line over to her, to hug and say I'm sorry before taking seats behind her.
When I sat down, I looked around me, hardly believing that we were there. But we all were.
The director was wearing shoes that were much too long for him. They made him look like he had long, floppy, troll feet. Why was he wearing such weird shoes?
Why were we here? Why were we laughing at memories and stories even though it hurt? Why was there now a wet drop on the handout they'd given me? Why does Boy keep rubbing my damn shoulder?
When we go back, we won't have to stop in two rooms anymore. No more wet kisses on my forehead or cheek. No singing at random. No more "sacre numdi chrishan rouge." And I never even asked what that meant.
And as I listened to the memories, I realized that there was a hell of alot that I didn't know about my grandfather. I didn't know he was called Senator due to some funny stunt my uncle Dick pulled in Virginia.
And everyone keeps asking, "How are you?" or "How are you doing?" And there's only so many times you can say "Ok" or "I'm fine."
And it's said in an almost bewildered tone. Why wouldn't I be fine? And then you remember.
they mean well......all of them mean well. But the real and cyber hugs, the I-love-you's, the I'm-sorry's, all of them culminate into one giant response after the 30th time someone asks, "How are you doing?"
And instead of saying, "I'm fine" I want to shout, "I've just lost my grandfather, a wonderful man who I didn't appreciate for the first 13 years of my life, a man that I'm beginning to realize I didn't know a whole lot about. And now I don't have the chance to ask him any questions or to hear more stories becuase the timer has run out and I thought there was more sand on his end. How do you really THINK I am doing right now?!"
But that outburst, while probably emotionally valid, would be rude. And quite uncalled for.
Yesterday--The Beatles
Yesterday,
All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
Why she
Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Why she
Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
If I Could Be an Addams.......
I'm beginning to wonder how sad it is to wish you were part of another family. Especially when that family happens to be fictional.
Maybe not sad then. Just....kooky. And spooky....and altogether ooky.
So yes. I wish I was an Addams. Or if not technically an Addams....I wish I was related to them in some way. They'd be the cool cousins or aunt/uncle most of my fam didn't like to talk about.
I mean, sure....I dunno how I feel about eating salamander tripe or hens stew. I dunno if my ears smoking after wine would be really healthy. And I'm sure Uncle Fester would annoy me after awhile. But...they're so ....odd. And fantastic.
A house where a hand brings in the mail and serves as a lookout for the front door, where Gomez and Morticia regularly fence or dance until they begin kissing because somebody spoke French, where the butler rolls his eyes and plays the harpsichord, where children dig tunnels, feed vultures, blow things up and play with headless dolls. Where a lion is a kitty and it's perfectly normal for plants to move about like snakes. Where if you're eccentric, it's embraced and where your family is so worried about you, so generous and care for you so much they'll try to help you in any way they can.....even if meddling might make you end up in weird situations.
I know they're weird.....and I"m not fond of sleeping on a bed of nails. Plus....I think I'd shriek if Wednesday asked me to play with her and her black widow spiders. But.....at the bottom of all thier oddness and goth-like appearence, they're really nice. They genuinely care about people whether they're family, friends or someone they just met five seconds ago. And while they might be naive in some ways.....they're really wonderful.
It's funny you know.
Sure, I used to hide in fiction when I thought my life sucked. But other than Harry Potter, I've never wished to be in that fictional world.....or rather, that that fictional world was real. And never in my life, have I ever wished so hard to have a fictional family.
I do love my family. Thier antics amuse and frustrate me. But I'm so tired of all the bullcrap you know?
Because in the Addams family, love doesn't come with a price. They care about you even if you're marrying someone they don't like. They love that you're weird to everybody else. They don't judge you if you don't want to be a Catholic (especially since I think they're allergic to churches). And they'd take the time to know you and the people you care about. Because they're like that. And if you're an Addams, you're horribly strange just like them.
They'd never put a price on thier love. And that would never occur to them.
Maybe not sad then. Just....kooky. And spooky....and altogether ooky.
So yes. I wish I was an Addams. Or if not technically an Addams....I wish I was related to them in some way. They'd be the cool cousins or aunt/uncle most of my fam didn't like to talk about.
I mean, sure....I dunno how I feel about eating salamander tripe or hens stew. I dunno if my ears smoking after wine would be really healthy. And I'm sure Uncle Fester would annoy me after awhile. But...they're so ....odd. And fantastic.
A house where a hand brings in the mail and serves as a lookout for the front door, where Gomez and Morticia regularly fence or dance until they begin kissing because somebody spoke French, where the butler rolls his eyes and plays the harpsichord, where children dig tunnels, feed vultures, blow things up and play with headless dolls. Where a lion is a kitty and it's perfectly normal for plants to move about like snakes. Where if you're eccentric, it's embraced and where your family is so worried about you, so generous and care for you so much they'll try to help you in any way they can.....even if meddling might make you end up in weird situations.
I know they're weird.....and I"m not fond of sleeping on a bed of nails. Plus....I think I'd shriek if Wednesday asked me to play with her and her black widow spiders. But.....at the bottom of all thier oddness and goth-like appearence, they're really nice. They genuinely care about people whether they're family, friends or someone they just met five seconds ago. And while they might be naive in some ways.....they're really wonderful.
It's funny you know.
Sure, I used to hide in fiction when I thought my life sucked. But other than Harry Potter, I've never wished to be in that fictional world.....or rather, that that fictional world was real. And never in my life, have I ever wished so hard to have a fictional family.
I do love my family. Thier antics amuse and frustrate me. But I'm so tired of all the bullcrap you know?
Because in the Addams family, love doesn't come with a price. They care about you even if you're marrying someone they don't like. They love that you're weird to everybody else. They don't judge you if you don't want to be a Catholic (especially since I think they're allergic to churches). And they'd take the time to know you and the people you care about. Because they're like that. And if you're an Addams, you're horribly strange just like them.
They'd never put a price on thier love. And that would never occur to them.
I Am Jack's Drunken Brain Not to be Confused With Jack's PeoplePleaser Synapse
I had a drunken night to celebrate a divorce. While it's quite hard for me to grasp why a divorce is a reason to celebrate....hey. It was festive.....and there was alcohol.
This was a win.
So, me, The Boy, his mother and her fiancée moseyed on down to the Bar. I'd never set foot in there because, well, I thought it looked pretty damn sketchy from the outside. I'm not very comfortable in that setting anyway.....but it's possible my upbringing has something to do with my overall wariness of places with juked-in music, pool tables, sticky counters and excessive amounts of alcohol. I am Sheltered Catholic Girl.
Which was brought up. Sort of.
His mother was drinking beforehand. She poured herself two glasses of some raspberry rum/crystal light concoction before we even left for the bar. I think I witnessed my first pregaming.
So anyhoo, we'd toddled off to the bar and settled in at the counter. I was the only one officially carded (The Boy already had his out and offered it to the bartender but hey....with his goatee/beard he looks about 23 or 24)and then the round began.
I started with an Amaretto Sour (adventurous is my middle name, I know), Boy chose a Rum and Coke (also adventurous) and the other two had Long Island Ice Teas. I raised my eyebrows when they slid over. I'd just read about those drinks. They are a major kick in the ass from what I've heard. Something I'd certainly never have unless I really desperately wanted to wake up with Stars and Stripes Forever in my head and worshipping the great toilet god.
So, the drinks continued. A second round was had and I had another Amaretto Sour. I think at that point everyone stayed the same with their choices. The second drink was as strong as the first and I really was feeling the tingly by then. The Boy's mom began talking more frequently by then. And louder.
There was a guy a few seats down who was unfortunately leaning over the counter. This created a rather large plumber smile that was brought to our attention by her. Of course, she told us rather loudly. Thank God "Put Your Ass Into It" was blaring or that dude might have been more than a little pissed. As it was I was slunk down in my seat and Boy was caught between shushing his mother and hiding his beet red face.
The shenanigans continued as the drinks kept being poured. The Boy had his Dr. McGillicuddy's (mouthwash) shot and the others decided on trying shots as well. Fiancee decided on something with Gold flecks in it (yep...you can ingest gold) and The Mother insisted the rest of us have Slippery Nipples.
Now, by this time I was nursing my third READ IT third Amaretto Sour and it had taken some serious debating to even let me get that far. I had a feeling this Nipple could be my downfall. Especially considering the fact that I was giggling every time the drink was said.
But The Mother insisted that we all (her, Boy and I) have them. And I found myself torn. First of all, it contained vodka and vodka is not my friend. I don't enjoy feeling like my esophagus is in need of a fire extinguisher. And secondly, I had a feeling that I was going to be hitting my limit soon. (I'd already went pee the first time and knew another was coming in like 10 minutes. Stupid alcohol). And yet, I agreed.
And when the Nipple was set before me I looked it over with a bit of distaste. Because it looked like Butterscotch death. And because enough of me was sober to realize that I was going along with what others were saying.
Still, I sipped the Slippery Nipple. I was wrong. It tasted like Butterscotch three alarm fire. When I coughed and made a face I was urged to "finish it! C'mon, one gulp!" Now, I'm not a chugger. And I've never been a fan of the drink it anyway thing. That's reserved for medicine as far as I'm concerned. But...I did it anyway. I gulped down the rest and coughed.
"Don't cough." she said. "Isn't that great? It warms you right up!" I looked at her, with possibly the first sardonic look I've given in a long time. I doubt she noticed though. She was pretty much gone by that point.
She had The Boy help her over to the jukebox to pick songs so we were listening to something other than Eminem, Ice-T and Lil' Wayne. While they were gone, The Fiancee apologized for embarassing me. The two had been getting friendler and more dirty in their comments and jokes as the night progressed. I shrugged and told him I'd heard and told worse at school.
He mentioned my little shell that I was in. Am I really that obvious? I wondered in my buzzed little brain. Apparently.
I waved it off. He was a nice enough guy, despite the occasional racist joke. Plus, they were treating! >_<
When everyone was settled again, the jokes continued. In all honesty I can't remember all of them but I do know that I had my face in Boy's arm more than once. Those two had Alabama Slammers (which I don't think either of them needed but hey....) and Boy tried a new rum and coke mix. I finished up my Amaretto Sour and decided against anything else. I contemplated asking for a Mudslide or Sombrero but I had a feeling the bartender didn't have any kahlua. Besides.....I knew I didn't need any more.
As it was, I'd already bumped into the bathroom doorway, had to lean against The Boy to steady myself and was starting to lose the ability to read. Or at least, words were beginning to blur and move. I began to realize what people with dyslexia felt like. I'd hit my limit. Or at least, the limit I'm comfortable with at this point. So, I declined, stating that I wasn't particularly used to this amount of drinking anyway.
I get to be a bit of a chatter box when I'm drunk. Mainly saying things that either don't make sense to anyone but me(like telling Boy that chewing on a mustache was like chewing on tinfoil, only fuzzy) or stuff that's followed by more elaborate hand gestures than I usually use. The 1/8th Italian comes out when I'm drunk, I guess.
Well, the others thought I was kidding. "Really?" Yep.....I don't drink that much. And hardly anyone in my family does. Other than my Jersey relatives.
And when I said this, The Mother said something about my mother. "Of course she doesn't drink. She's the freaking Catholic Daughters of America."
And something about that rankled me a bit. Maybe it's because she was slurring and laughing. Maybe because it sounded like she was dissing my mom. Or maybe it was because she'd said almost something along the same lines before we were even inside the bar. We were walking up to the door and I said I'd never been but my mother had back in the 80's. And that was met with surpsie that my mom would even go in a bar.
I mean, yeah. My mother never drank while I was growing up. My mother doesn't like to drink in all honesty. She doesn't like the loss of control and you know what, that's kind of what I'm afraid of. That losing control. Which is why I still have a limit. But my mother did indulge in a sombrero the summer before my senior year in high school. Hey, it was Atlantic City and she was on vacation. And she drinks a little wine here and there now when she's cooking. She's not a prude. She just.....grew up around some drinking with my family. And I think the drunkeness made her rethink doing it herself.
And my mother WAS a Catholic Daughter but she quit. She got sick and tired of all the dramatic, catty, political, hypocritical, BULLSHIT and she quit. And people try to get her back and she ignores them. Because it was ridiculous. Kind of like Dance Club after we all got split into two groups. Shameful in middle-aged and geriatric Christian women but hey....high school never ends, right?
So...yeah. That shot through my fuzzy brain. Because nobody disses my mom. But I was too drunk to do or say anything about it. Or maybe I was too sober to let my tongue fly free?
Either way, I firmly turned down further drinks. Even when The Fiancee had another gold drink and The Mother made Boy have another Slippery Nipple with her and she then had a Grape Crush. I refused and munched down on the cheesy Chex mix The Boy brought over for the two of us. I declined further and ignored the "c'mooooon....aren't yuouf in familernty outiieng." which I translated to "C'mon. Aren't you in the family outing too?"
I knew I was starting to sober when I tried to pull myself away from her once she swung my arm wildly back and forth, trying to get me to dance along with her to some 70's song. And the next time I went to the bathroom, I managed to get some of the jokes scrawled on the stall. "Jenna Talia" (always popular), "Dick Goesnya" (unfortunately this confused me through most of the evening) and of course, the perfect line for a Vermont bar: "He can plow my fields any day."
Finally, it was about 11 and the poor bartender was cleaning up. The fiancee supported his very tipsy other half and I grabbed The Boy's hand as we toddled out of the bar. I didn't need his hand but I felt better holding onto him. Especially since I was increasingly nervous about the ride home.
Boy had had less drinks than the Finacee(unless I'd lost count) but he was the one elscted to drive. Even Boy driving would have made me nervous because he had been drinking as well after all. But the older man had been walking around for cigarette breaks alot. He could hold alot of liquor apparently. Still...my stomach twisted a bit. This was exactly what my mother had lectured me about when I turned 21. This was exactly what those I-Ruined-My-Life videos we'd been forced to watch throughout high school were about. So, I was internally FLIPPING OUT.
But I said not a word. The Mother was saying something about how I was too drunk to go home tonight. "Jus stay our ouse." But I knew that was not going to happen. I didn't care if my mother saw me giggling madly as I drunkenly stumbled in the door. I was going home because Dad waking up at 3 and not finding me home was a worse situation, trust me.
I buckled my seatbelt securely and pressed my hands in between my knees. The Fiancee turned the car on all right and even stopped for the stop signs and used his turn signal correctly. I began to feel better. Slightly. I was on my way to sober so I was caught between reassured-ville and blantant paranoia at doing something I was expressly told not to.
And then, we drove past a cop. I was hit by a brand new fear. We would get pulled over. The driver would be arrested. We would all be arrested, the rest of us for being dumb enough to get in the car with him. I would get my permit taken away, my parents would find out and I would have a record. Fuck. But we drove on toward our street and the cop continued on his own way and nothing happened. Boy made a crack about "bacon at the donut shop" to which his mother responded "I didna raise no disrespetful sonofabith." Which struck me as funny. Actually just her talking was making me laugh.
We arrived with no incident back at thier house, The Fiancee laughing his ass off at having driven past a cop and not getting pulled over. I wasn't entirely sure whether I really found that funny or not.
I'm still not sure. Call me a prudy pillbox but hey.....that was the most ballsy (or stupid) thing I've done since I stopped being friends with Maggie. While risks are good to take and God knows I need to take them more often, this was close to downright dumb.
Upon reflection I also realized that I was doing it, i.e. drinking more drinks than I was originally going to and doing exactly what my parents said not to (my moher told me specifically before I went out the door with my ID to call if I needed a ride), because I wanted to be liked. By whom you ask? By Boy's mom. By her fiancee.
That's my problem. I want people to like me. That's why I get so damn nervous around people I don't know. It's why say stupid things sometimes around Boy's friends because I want them to like me. No matter how much smack I talk about not caring...I really do.
I want his mom to like me. She's going to be my mother-in-law for pete's sake. I kinda need her to not loathe my guts. And also.....I didn't want to ....well...be a square. Yeah, my fsmily doesn't really drink. Yeah I'm Catholic and shy and sheltered at times. But I'm not...a square. I'm not lame. At least, I try not to be.
And I realized that I was doing the exact same thing I pulled that time Ginger Bitch and a bunch of boys showed up at Boy's apartment. I was drinking to show I wasn't lame. What's more, I was drinking to fit in.
Holy shit......figures I would hit my go-with-the-crowd phase after high school.
Now that's lame.
This was a win.
So, me, The Boy, his mother and her fiancée moseyed on down to the Bar. I'd never set foot in there because, well, I thought it looked pretty damn sketchy from the outside. I'm not very comfortable in that setting anyway.....but it's possible my upbringing has something to do with my overall wariness of places with juked-in music, pool tables, sticky counters and excessive amounts of alcohol. I am Sheltered Catholic Girl.
Which was brought up. Sort of.
His mother was drinking beforehand. She poured herself two glasses of some raspberry rum/crystal light concoction before we even left for the bar. I think I witnessed my first pregaming.
So anyhoo, we'd toddled off to the bar and settled in at the counter. I was the only one officially carded (The Boy already had his out and offered it to the bartender but hey....with his goatee/beard he looks about 23 or 24)and then the round began.
I started with an Amaretto Sour (adventurous is my middle name, I know), Boy chose a Rum and Coke (also adventurous) and the other two had Long Island Ice Teas. I raised my eyebrows when they slid over. I'd just read about those drinks. They are a major kick in the ass from what I've heard. Something I'd certainly never have unless I really desperately wanted to wake up with Stars and Stripes Forever in my head and worshipping the great toilet god.
So, the drinks continued. A second round was had and I had another Amaretto Sour. I think at that point everyone stayed the same with their choices. The second drink was as strong as the first and I really was feeling the tingly by then. The Boy's mom began talking more frequently by then. And louder.
There was a guy a few seats down who was unfortunately leaning over the counter. This created a rather large plumber smile that was brought to our attention by her. Of course, she told us rather loudly. Thank God "Put Your Ass Into It" was blaring or that dude might have been more than a little pissed. As it was I was slunk down in my seat and Boy was caught between shushing his mother and hiding his beet red face.
The shenanigans continued as the drinks kept being poured. The Boy had his Dr. McGillicuddy's (mouthwash) shot and the others decided on trying shots as well. Fiancee decided on something with Gold flecks in it (yep...you can ingest gold) and The Mother insisted the rest of us have Slippery Nipples.
Now, by this time I was nursing my third READ IT third Amaretto Sour and it had taken some serious debating to even let me get that far. I had a feeling this Nipple could be my downfall. Especially considering the fact that I was giggling every time the drink was said.
But The Mother insisted that we all (her, Boy and I) have them. And I found myself torn. First of all, it contained vodka and vodka is not my friend. I don't enjoy feeling like my esophagus is in need of a fire extinguisher. And secondly, I had a feeling that I was going to be hitting my limit soon. (I'd already went pee the first time and knew another was coming in like 10 minutes. Stupid alcohol). And yet, I agreed.
And when the Nipple was set before me I looked it over with a bit of distaste. Because it looked like Butterscotch death. And because enough of me was sober to realize that I was going along with what others were saying.
Still, I sipped the Slippery Nipple. I was wrong. It tasted like Butterscotch three alarm fire. When I coughed and made a face I was urged to "finish it! C'mon, one gulp!" Now, I'm not a chugger. And I've never been a fan of the drink it anyway thing. That's reserved for medicine as far as I'm concerned. But...I did it anyway. I gulped down the rest and coughed.
"Don't cough." she said. "Isn't that great? It warms you right up!" I looked at her, with possibly the first sardonic look I've given in a long time. I doubt she noticed though. She was pretty much gone by that point.
She had The Boy help her over to the jukebox to pick songs so we were listening to something other than Eminem, Ice-T and Lil' Wayne. While they were gone, The Fiancee apologized for embarassing me. The two had been getting friendler and more dirty in their comments and jokes as the night progressed. I shrugged and told him I'd heard and told worse at school.
He mentioned my little shell that I was in. Am I really that obvious? I wondered in my buzzed little brain. Apparently.
I waved it off. He was a nice enough guy, despite the occasional racist joke. Plus, they were treating! >_<
When everyone was settled again, the jokes continued. In all honesty I can't remember all of them but I do know that I had my face in Boy's arm more than once. Those two had Alabama Slammers (which I don't think either of them needed but hey....) and Boy tried a new rum and coke mix. I finished up my Amaretto Sour and decided against anything else. I contemplated asking for a Mudslide or Sombrero but I had a feeling the bartender didn't have any kahlua. Besides.....I knew I didn't need any more.
As it was, I'd already bumped into the bathroom doorway, had to lean against The Boy to steady myself and was starting to lose the ability to read. Or at least, words were beginning to blur and move. I began to realize what people with dyslexia felt like. I'd hit my limit. Or at least, the limit I'm comfortable with at this point. So, I declined, stating that I wasn't particularly used to this amount of drinking anyway.
I get to be a bit of a chatter box when I'm drunk. Mainly saying things that either don't make sense to anyone but me(like telling Boy that chewing on a mustache was like chewing on tinfoil, only fuzzy) or stuff that's followed by more elaborate hand gestures than I usually use. The 1/8th Italian comes out when I'm drunk, I guess.
Well, the others thought I was kidding. "Really?" Yep.....I don't drink that much. And hardly anyone in my family does. Other than my Jersey relatives.
And when I said this, The Mother said something about my mother. "Of course she doesn't drink. She's the freaking Catholic Daughters of America."
And something about that rankled me a bit. Maybe it's because she was slurring and laughing. Maybe because it sounded like she was dissing my mom. Or maybe it was because she'd said almost something along the same lines before we were even inside the bar. We were walking up to the door and I said I'd never been but my mother had back in the 80's. And that was met with surpsie that my mom would even go in a bar.
I mean, yeah. My mother never drank while I was growing up. My mother doesn't like to drink in all honesty. She doesn't like the loss of control and you know what, that's kind of what I'm afraid of. That losing control. Which is why I still have a limit. But my mother did indulge in a sombrero the summer before my senior year in high school. Hey, it was Atlantic City and she was on vacation. And she drinks a little wine here and there now when she's cooking. She's not a prude. She just.....grew up around some drinking with my family. And I think the drunkeness made her rethink doing it herself.
And my mother WAS a Catholic Daughter but she quit. She got sick and tired of all the dramatic, catty, political, hypocritical, BULLSHIT and she quit. And people try to get her back and she ignores them. Because it was ridiculous. Kind of like Dance Club after we all got split into two groups. Shameful in middle-aged and geriatric Christian women but hey....high school never ends, right?
So...yeah. That shot through my fuzzy brain. Because nobody disses my mom. But I was too drunk to do or say anything about it. Or maybe I was too sober to let my tongue fly free?
Either way, I firmly turned down further drinks. Even when The Fiancee had another gold drink and The Mother made Boy have another Slippery Nipple with her and she then had a Grape Crush. I refused and munched down on the cheesy Chex mix The Boy brought over for the two of us. I declined further and ignored the "c'mooooon....aren't yuouf in familernty outiieng." which I translated to "C'mon. Aren't you in the family outing too?"
I knew I was starting to sober when I tried to pull myself away from her once she swung my arm wildly back and forth, trying to get me to dance along with her to some 70's song. And the next time I went to the bathroom, I managed to get some of the jokes scrawled on the stall. "Jenna Talia" (always popular), "Dick Goesnya" (unfortunately this confused me through most of the evening) and of course, the perfect line for a Vermont bar: "He can plow my fields any day."
Finally, it was about 11 and the poor bartender was cleaning up. The fiancee supported his very tipsy other half and I grabbed The Boy's hand as we toddled out of the bar. I didn't need his hand but I felt better holding onto him. Especially since I was increasingly nervous about the ride home.
Boy had had less drinks than the Finacee(unless I'd lost count) but he was the one elscted to drive. Even Boy driving would have made me nervous because he had been drinking as well after all. But the older man had been walking around for cigarette breaks alot. He could hold alot of liquor apparently. Still...my stomach twisted a bit. This was exactly what my mother had lectured me about when I turned 21. This was exactly what those I-Ruined-My-Life videos we'd been forced to watch throughout high school were about. So, I was internally FLIPPING OUT.
But I said not a word. The Mother was saying something about how I was too drunk to go home tonight. "Jus stay our ouse." But I knew that was not going to happen. I didn't care if my mother saw me giggling madly as I drunkenly stumbled in the door. I was going home because Dad waking up at 3 and not finding me home was a worse situation, trust me.
I buckled my seatbelt securely and pressed my hands in between my knees. The Fiancee turned the car on all right and even stopped for the stop signs and used his turn signal correctly. I began to feel better. Slightly. I was on my way to sober so I was caught between reassured-ville and blantant paranoia at doing something I was expressly told not to.
And then, we drove past a cop. I was hit by a brand new fear. We would get pulled over. The driver would be arrested. We would all be arrested, the rest of us for being dumb enough to get in the car with him. I would get my permit taken away, my parents would find out and I would have a record. Fuck. But we drove on toward our street and the cop continued on his own way and nothing happened. Boy made a crack about "bacon at the donut shop" to which his mother responded "I didna raise no disrespetful sonofabith." Which struck me as funny. Actually just her talking was making me laugh.
We arrived with no incident back at thier house, The Fiancee laughing his ass off at having driven past a cop and not getting pulled over. I wasn't entirely sure whether I really found that funny or not.
I'm still not sure. Call me a prudy pillbox but hey.....that was the most ballsy (or stupid) thing I've done since I stopped being friends with Maggie. While risks are good to take and God knows I need to take them more often, this was close to downright dumb.
Upon reflection I also realized that I was doing it, i.e. drinking more drinks than I was originally going to and doing exactly what my parents said not to (my moher told me specifically before I went out the door with my ID to call if I needed a ride), because I wanted to be liked. By whom you ask? By Boy's mom. By her fiancee.
That's my problem. I want people to like me. That's why I get so damn nervous around people I don't know. It's why say stupid things sometimes around Boy's friends because I want them to like me. No matter how much smack I talk about not caring...I really do.
I want his mom to like me. She's going to be my mother-in-law for pete's sake. I kinda need her to not loathe my guts. And also.....I didn't want to ....well...be a square. Yeah, my fsmily doesn't really drink. Yeah I'm Catholic and shy and sheltered at times. But I'm not...a square. I'm not lame. At least, I try not to be.
And I realized that I was doing the exact same thing I pulled that time Ginger Bitch and a bunch of boys showed up at Boy's apartment. I was drinking to show I wasn't lame. What's more, I was drinking to fit in.
Holy shit......figures I would hit my go-with-the-crowd phase after high school.
Now that's lame.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Paging Doctor Psycho.....
A new record has been set for Loony. And I've got the gold medal.
This summer I have continued in the same behavior of the previous summer, as well as that of last fall. In other words, I'm an anti-social, paranoid, anxiety-ridden, hyperventilating hermit. Wonderful. Just hand me some valium and a rubber room and I'm all set.
I'm serious. I hide indoors, I'm uncomfortable in public, I hate answering the door, I hate going out, I've avoided going to the movies twice with The Boy, I break out in sweats thinking about going ot the library, job hunting makes me hyperventilate, and I get panic attacks trying to go to sleep at night.
Apparently I need a shrink or something. Or maybe just the rubber room. I did always like bounce houses.....
This summer I have continued in the same behavior of the previous summer, as well as that of last fall. In other words, I'm an anti-social, paranoid, anxiety-ridden, hyperventilating hermit. Wonderful. Just hand me some valium and a rubber room and I'm all set.
I'm serious. I hide indoors, I'm uncomfortable in public, I hate answering the door, I hate going out, I've avoided going to the movies twice with The Boy, I break out in sweats thinking about going ot the library, job hunting makes me hyperventilate, and I get panic attacks trying to go to sleep at night.
Apparently I need a shrink or something. Or maybe just the rubber room. I did always like bounce houses.....
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