Beware the Taffy Pull on the Train

Train riding.  DH is sitting right next to me but THERE WILL BE BLOOD if I post any pictures of him, so just picture how cute he is sitting next to me, M'kay?

We live in Chicago.  We have a pretty great transit system here, The Chicago Transit Authority, which my smarty pants husband tells me what the original name of the band, Chicago, until people got all uppity with them about rights and such and they just went with "Chicago".

Anyway, we mostly take the Brown Line these days as we live on Sesame Street and the cute little train station is literally right across the street.  It zips us downtown in about 40 minutes if all goes smoothly. 

It's pretty cool that after 20 years of taking the CTA, I still get a kick outta going over the Chicago River when we get into the Loop.  I just do.  And at night too when it's all lit up?  Gorgeous. 

This is a status I posted yesterday, and inspired this post, as it's pretty incredible:

I just emailed DH that I left my bag with my lunch and Spinning clothes on the train and got all the way to the office before I realized. Ran back to the platform, not really sure why, but lo and behold, there was my bag just sitting on the platform. I'm sure someone was yelling at me about it when I walked off, but earphones, you know? Now I just will be paranoid that there's anthrax or gingivitis some shit in all my food. God Dammit.


Anyway, DH's response is "do I need to pin your keys to your coat when you leave the house?" I said, "No, I have my keys, asshole. LOVE YOU". THE END. *curtsies*

I'm still pretty amazed that happened.  And that my husband is so god damn funny. 

Now, there are some crazy things that have happened over the years in my experience on the train.  Back in the day, I would ride in blackouts and not remember a thing.  At 3am, by myself.  MIRACLES have happened in my life.  I know.

The rush hour commute is all just hipsters and yuppies and folks like us schlepping back and forth to work.  The real fun happens on nights and weekends.  That's the CTA money shot, if you will.  And I look forward to going out late or on off times, as it increases the chance for crazy.

The most concerning story I have is back when I lived in Oak Park, which is just west of the City. Morning commute, roughly 7:30am.  Packed train.  Me, sitting by window, guy sits next to me on the aisle.  With a newspaper.  I was reading a book, so I didn't pay any attention until the newspaper started making noises and started bobbing up and down rapidly.  Yes, this dude was having a taffy pull right next to me.  I looked up and saw horrified passengers looking at me.  I will never forget this woman's face and she mouthed, "GET UP".  And I did.  I got up and off the train and told an Officer what had happened, but the train was already off to the next stop. 

Needless to say, I don't trust any guy who reads a newspaper on the train now.  I GOT EYES ON YOU, BUB. 

I have a little friend who loves to ride the train because when she's sitting, she gets the perfect view of a standing gentleman's package.   Little perv.  Whatever floats your boat, right?

There are many reasons the city is great, and the CTA is just one.  You don't get the up close and personal crazy anywhere else.  Most days it's fine, but sometimes if you are lucky you get a truly heartwarming or gut wrenching story.  I actually like the crazy, I crave the crazy.  But I don't get it as much as I used to.  Maybe I'm not putting myself in dangerous situations as much as I used to and that kinda makes me feel old and sad.  But in another way, it makes me feel like I'm maturing and taking care of myself.  I used up about 8 lives when I was drinking, so I need to make this 9th one last. 

I will pass on the public taffy pulling, but I would take some crazy Jesus nonsense spouting now and then.  I have to seek out the crazy on the train these days.  But they still find me - on the street and in the alley - in my life. Sometimes in my mirror.  I attract the crazy.  I'm grateful for that.  Keeps me on my toes. 

Well, this is my stop.  Keep your pervy ball-balls to yourself Mister.  Or at least in your pants.  Nobody wants to see that.  Especially not at 7:30 in the god damned morning. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 24

I am a misfit.  I am an alcoholic.  I am a late bloomer and a social undesirable. I am not who advertisers cater to.  I am less than.  I am a woman closer to 40 than to 30.  I am childless, for now.

But you know what?  I wouldn't take back any of the shit that I've gone through that have made me who I am. 

I LOVE MISFITS.

I was in jail.  I was homeless.  I had hallucinations.  I had delirium tremens.  I was hopeless.  But today, I choose hope. 

I have compassion for those that most people choose to look down on or ignore. The undesirables.  They are who I feel closest to.  It's an odd thing to feel that way, when in reality today my life is fucking amazing.  I have a soul that is full.  I have a spiritual bank account that helps me get through every day trials, big and small.  But I didn't always have all this.  I did the hard work.  And I keep my past very close, so I don't go back there.  If people hadn't been kind to me when I had nothing, most of all a full soul, I would be dead. 

I wouldn't be funny if I weren't an alcoholic.  People who knew me in high school don't remember me being outspoken and funny.  And part of that is due to getting older and perspective and confidence, but a lot of it is due to going through so much pain that you can laugh at yourself. 

We are a proud lot, us misfits.  I am talking about people who don't fit the social norms and how we are always trying to fit in but then one day it just clicks, that, you know what?  I don't even want to fit in.  And we say screw all that bullshit and grab our own truth by the balls and live our own god damn life. 

This is not an Oprahism.  This is not a rah rah let's all love on each other and blow smoke up our own asses post.  This is simply to say, I LOVE MISFITS. 

When you can safely and confidently say, I am recovering, from whatever the hell you went through, you are free.  And to people who want that, it is there for you. 

My heart beats loudest for animals and for misfits.  And for misfit animals.  When people admit their shortcomings and, even better, can laugh at them, they earn my respect.  When people want to get better, and I see them trying?  It makes me want to try harder. 

I can't rescue people.  They need to rescue themselves.  But I can try to help.  Many people helped and are helping me.  The circle goes on.

I'm inspired by fighters.  I'm intimately acquainted and in love with addicts and alcoholics.  But I'm also, on this side of it, inspired by friends and family of addicts and alcoholics.  It's a special kind of hell those people go through with the sick people they love. 

When you really think about it, we are ALL misfits in some way, shape or form.  Some of us hide it way better than others, or they think we do.  I choose to yell it out in the hopes that it helps someone else.  My single greatest joy on earth is helping other alcoholics.  It is better than any drunken high I ever got. 

I love misfits.  And to those of you out there trying your damnedest to get better - to be better - please keep going.  You are not alone, and I promise it does get better.  We all need each other.  I say it a lot, it's not easy, but it's so worth it. 

I've been OBSESSED with this song by Rihanna.  I have it on repeat and play it LOUD.  And now that I see this video, it makes it click even more. Sorry for the ad at the beginning, but stay with it.

 

We found love in a hopeless place. What an anthem. It's so good until it's not. And then we have to find love in a hopeless place. And we can. And we do. And we go on. And we get better and thrive more and more.

There are times you have to walk over the bodies.  It's true, if we don't take care of ourselves, we can't help others and if it's sucking you dry, it's no good for anyone.  But we can try to help.  Life is meant to be lived well.  Not with things or money, but with relationships and with laughter.  That is my goal anyway.
 
So MISFITS?  Rage on.  I am proud to be among you. 

Welcome to the Jungle

It's rough in here.

Let's all pretend you don't see me.  And then don't bother me, m'kay?

First things first.  I love my job.  I'm so grateful for my job.  My boss took a huge chance on me almost 10 years ago when he didn't have to and we are doing swimmingly all these years later.  The main reason I love my job so much is because my boss is an excellent man with character and respect and shows appreciation for what I do constantly.

Now, things I've learned and seen while here for almost 10 years.  In the CORPORATE JUNGLE.  a.k.a. Lessons from a Desk Jockeyess. I'm a round circle trying to fit into a square peg.  And I've calmed down a lot.  I don't fire off office wide emails bitching about something ridiculous and get scolded by the Office Manager nearly as much as I did back in the day when I thought I knew everything.  Guess what asshole (meaning me)?  You work in a corporate office.  Get with the program. 

Once I learned to keep my mouth shut and not fight every fight, things got way easier.  It's not my business to feel offended by every single slight that happens to me or to someone else. Jesus, I was a huge asshole when I first got sober.  Which, when I started working here, I was one year sober.  CRAY CRAY.  My boss knew I was one year sober and he did it anyway.  He didn't have to.  I probably should have been fired about 46 times by now.  I couldn't get through a background check back then, I don't know if I could get through one now due to my stays at state run facilities and firings from other jobs, but because I started out temp to perm, I didn't ever have to do one. 

I've learned if I zip it on the whole, the times I do chose to open my gob, it's more powerful.  I pause, I ask opinions of others, and I sit with it for a while before reacting.  And 95 percent of the time, I find I don't need to react.  What a gift.  All tools I learned from the 12 Step Program I work.   I never did that shit before.  I just popped off.  Over and over and over.  It's life changing to be able to pause. 

My reviews from co-workers used to say things like, "Katy is not a team player and her skirts are too short."  Seriously, they said that.  Now, they are glowing and beaming about my attitude and the general length of my skirts and praising my "wicked sense of humor".  When I make a fuss now, it gets taken more seriously than if I make a fuss about every little damn thing.  This is huge stuff.  And it's not to say people actually like me here.  But they don't have to.  That's something I learned as well.  This is a job.  We aren't friends.  If we happen to make a few friends through work, that's just a bonus. 

I'm playing in their world and they are paying me to do so, so it's best I keep my opinions to myself.  Now, if only my co-workers could do the same. 

What I have learned.  Nothing earth shattering, but damn is it tedious and soul sucking.

1. People love to say "Good Morning!"  Seriously, they will fall all over themselves to make a big fucking deal to say good morning to you, and then go on to remain utterly quiet the whole rest of the day.
2. People love to say "Have a good night/weekend!"  See number 1.
3. If you sit in a common area, which I do, in a cube without doors or walls or barriers from the masses, people think you are there as ornament and for their own amusement. EXAMPLE: while I have my headphones on and it's clear to a self-aware human that I am in the middle of furiously typing something, say this blog, humanity stops and stares and wants to talk about something very important. Say, how the football game (everyone knows I hate football) was last night, or "WOW, YOUR PLANTS ARE SO BIG, IT'S LIKE A JUNGLE IN HERE".
   



You know what people don't like?  You making fun of what they say every time they walk by. 
SO STOP FUCKING SAYING THE SAME THING EVERY GOD DAMN TIME.  I made this helpful sign and put it up one day at my cube so I wouldn't have to answer people.  It caused more confusion than it helped. FAIL.

4. "IT'S FUCKING COLD IN HERE".  The single most common phrase I hear from humanity walking past my desk.  I have heard it 846 million times in 10 years.  Without the "fucking" part, of course.  People just cannot help themselves.  How the hell do I respond to that?  If I'm feeling plucky or even hear them, I respond with, "really?  I think it's perfect" and then awkwardness ensues.  If I'm crabby and tired of the bullshit, I don't say anything.  And then awkwardness ensues.
5. THE LADIES ROOM.  Whole. Nother. Level.  WOMEN of the world.  PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.  Do your business and get the hell out.  No talking.  No loitering.  It's simple.  And for the love of all that is holy, don't talk to me while I'm in a stall.  Did your mothers teach you nothing? 
6. THE OFFICE KITCHEN.  When you enter the kitchen, don't look at whatever is in there and comment about it to whoever is in there.  NOBODY CARES.  Really and truly, nobody cares.  Don't discuss what people are eating or not eating or what they SHOULD try or not try.  It's the most soul suck-and-destroy mission to engage in this type of conversation.  Which is why most times, I walk right back out when someone else is in there.

I don't care.  About most of the shit people say and do here.  But guess what?  They pay me, so Imma shut up and keep my head down.

As I was writing this rantarific post, this quick note came in from a co-worker.  Not all of them are annoying as shit.  At least not all the time.  There are a few co-workers I genuinely like and so appreciate.  Just knowing they are here helps my sanity.

"I just have to say how fantastic you look.  I was going to mention it to you in the kitchen but then ____ walked in and I didn't want to embarrass you.  You have motivated me to get back on track and lose some weight myself.  I've been making a lot of excuses lately and I'm at the point where I'm mentally ready to fight this battle ;-)" 

I met my closest friend, My Lynnie, here at work.  She sat right next to me her first couple years here.  We clicked on every level.  The way you only do with a select few people in life.  Then she had to move aways from me.  Then another good friend moved in right next door.  Leigh Anne is funny and a spaz and exhausting all at once.  I love her heart dearly.  She plays with me like a champion.  She takes my ribbing in good fun and keeps coming back for more abuse.  Eventually she had to move away from me too.  I know they didn't WANT to move away from me.  RIGHT?  RIGHT?  Of course I have my Young Jonathan to keep me laughing and fully plied with pickles and snark.  Other than that and my Boss, I am now alone in my island of cubicles, which Management finally figured out is the safest solution for everyone here.

There have been many lessons learned here in almost 10 years.  The best part?  They pay me for this shit.  And I am so very grateful. 

I Enjoy Being a Girl and a Proud Drunk



I even enjoy faxing shit. And looking damn good doing it.



I do.  I enjoy being a girl.  In all this fancy pants glory and beautiful flippant bouffanty sparkly shiny goodness.  I enjoy dressing up and wearing make up and heels and jewelry and wearing dresses practically every day.





Two performances and songs that are regularly sung and danced out in my head and by my body are these two below:

HOWEVER, being a girl is about way more than just the pretty and the frou frou.

I have a mind.  A good one at that.  Being a woman, I have a heart that is rich and deep and wounded and vulnerable, no matter how much I try to protect it. 

Being a woman means a lot of things, but to me it means being gentle and tough, it means walking through fear with grace and dignity. 

I celebrate stereotypical femininity.  That word is LOADED with expectation and even negativity.  Feminine.  I proudly hoist my girls up so they look the best they can, and I perch upon heels so that my legs look even better in that skirt. I do this because I love it.  No one forces me, and if they did, you can bet your ass I would do the opposite.  That's how I roll, yo.  That's feminine of me, right?

The essence of a tormented woman is here in The Original Joanie Holloway.  Being a woman is a big responsibility.  We have to show to the world we are more than what we are packaged in, and yet, it is so much fun to be wrapped in a pretty package.  The play is the thing.  The balance between being a smart, capable woman and the way the world will treat you if you look a certain way.  I didn't make the rules, but I also don't have to contribute to the ongoing figurative slaughter of women and girls who don't fit the lipstick and heels picture of what a woman "should be".  I'm not one for feminist preaching, but damn it feels good to say and do whatever the hell I want, and for that I am thankful.  

Most people go through life never haing to deal with AA or getting sober or any of this stuff*.  I was a low bottom drunk.  I lost everything.  Starting with my self respect and dignity and ending with material things like jobs, relationships, homes, family, cats, cars. 

Being a drunk woman is SO not pretty.

 You know what they say - getting sober is like playing that old country record backwards, you get your truck back, your job back, your wife back, your dog back. You don't usually get back the same shit you lost, but well, you get the point. Your life gets better.

For a woman to be able to walk into AA meetings these days and not be ostracised like it used to be is a huge gift.  We are still outnumbered in meetings. By a lot.  But it takes courage to walk in and say "yes, I'm a woman and I'm an alcoholic".  It gives other women the courage to do the same thing.  There are so many women out there who are hiding it right now and will never get help because they are ashamed.  That breaks my heart.  I speak out here and wherever else I can to say, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  To be a woman and to be a drunk is about the ugliest combination we can be when we are using.  But to be a woman in recovery, is well, beautiful.  

Sobriety is a gift that we need to be especially careful how we handle.  People are watching.  It's astounding how many men and women have come to me from reading this blog and the page and are still struggling or just getting sober or know people who are desperately trying to get it.  I don't take that lightly.  And I'm so grateful for the help you have given me and the courage to keep talking about it.  You help me stay sober. 

Men and women who walk into AA and get better are my heroes.  Period.  It means they want to fight for a good life, they do not just want to quit drinking and be miserably dry.  People who are trying to get better - trying to BE better are my heroes. If you want to write me, please do.  I am no expert on anything but jackassery, but I can try to help guide you to the right place. 

All of this is to say, YES, we are women.  YES, we are pretty, angry, sad, awkward, grungy, strong, spazzy and so vulnerable, even when we would never admit it. 

When I stopped showing how fucking strong I could be is when I finally got and stayed sober.  I could drink tomorrow and throw that all away.  But I hope I make the right choice for me and ask for help.  Strength in vulnerability.  There's a novel idea. 

*I'm not one of those people who thinks because I am a drunk that everyone is.  I'm surrounded by people in my life who drink like normal people and never have a problem.  More power to them!

Awards and Some Such Nonsense

I've been given this award TWICE now:

Once by my girl Crafty over at her raucous and beautiful blog Craftwhack, which is one of the blogs I read religiously, as in, I NEVER MISS ONE and she will tell you I comment on EVERY GD one her posts. She is funny and smart and so good at so many things.  One of my favorite things about her blog is Tutorial Tuesday, where she will most likely make you lose your shit on the train.  In a good way.  And once in a while she gives us a post so deep and thought provoking, it keeps us all coming back for more.  As you well know with me, the snark needs to be supported by the depth.  There has to be a balance.  A zen of blogging if you will.  Craftwhack gets it so right. 

And once by my girl over at Mynewfavoriteday.  Who is all at once lovely and ballsy and funny and a beautiful soul.  She writes what is in her heart and lays it out so genuinely, my snark is almost embarrassed to talk to her - ALMOST.  And yet she somehow puts up with me and let's me play with her and for that, I am grateful.  I could learn a lot from her gentle and loving nature dripping with optimism. 

These two amazing women happen to be two of my blog mentors and idols and also, just two kick ass ladies in their own way, and I'm honored they would include me in this awesomeness.  So, thank you again and many tackles and face licks are happening - close your eyes and visualize big, floppy Boxer lips all over you, and that is what I'm doing in my mind and heart to both of you.

Because I am lazy and also not very good with etiquette, it's taken me two times to finally give this back. The Versatile Blogger. Now, maybe I'm getting this wrong, because that's usually the case, but to me that means writing about a bunch of different shit. Which I might call random. And yes, I definitely qualify here. If anyone is random, tis I. So, while I have many favorite blogs, I will be sharing this award with a few that I find quite random, eh, ahem, I mean VERSATILE. There are blogs out there that focus on one theme or one subject, which is great too and I love them. But this award is not for you.  Also, THIS IS NOT A POPULARITY CONTEST. Hopefully people understand that and most of my favorite blogs are already linked here on my blog. 

I feel like this should be all fancy, like a proclamation or something.  We are watching The Tudors right now and every time the Queen enters the little guy announces her like this, "THE Queen", emphasis on THE.  Which I love and want my cats and husband to announce me that way whenever I enter a room from now on. It hasn't happened as of yet.  But it will, oh it will, MARK MY WORDS.

I'm following the rules from Craftwhack's post.  Because she's so awesome and funny and I love to say the word boobs (see why I love that Crafty so much?).

"Rules: I must show the award on my blog, tell you 5 things you may not know about me, and then pass on the award to 5 bloggers with whom I am smitten. Plus, I have to add the word ‘boobs’ in to as many sentences as I can."

So here we go! 5 things you may not know about me. You guys know all my deep dark secrets, so this is going to be tough to come up with trivial shit.

1. I was born in Dallas, Texas.  I come by this big hair and love of country music quite honestly. 
2. I was a singing server for a couple years after college.  BS in Theatre, working at a restaurant singing songs from the 1920's.  Quite fun actually. 
3. I was a figure skater for almost 10 years of my life.  Competitions and shows were my life for a long time. 
4. I became a born again Christian at 16 years old - like dunked in the river baptised, FOR REALS.  Super involved in my evangelical church. I was hardcore into the Lord and would tell you all about the good news.  (I KNOW, RIGHT?)
5. When I get super really awkward nervous, I start counting out loud, under my breath really super dedupery fast.  It helps the feeling pass. 

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Now, here are the blogs I read without fail, which are super VERSATILE (besides the two I already mentioned who gave me this award) in no particular order:

1. Reading and Chickens.  http://readingandchickens.blogspot.com/ I am completely smitten with her drawings, number one, number two, she has chickens.  And she's a bookworm who loves a good crinoline.  I mean, COME ON! She is smart and funny and I am always entertained and stimulated when I visit her blog.  She has some righteous boobs, although she will probably dismiss me for saying this, I've seen you in those dresses girl, come here. 
2. Crazy Dumbsaint of the Mind.  http://dumbsainthood.wordpress.com/.  I fell in love with this woman a while back, she is quite different from me, and yet we are so similar.  She talks a lot about breast feeding, and that makes me think about her boobs.  She is a Bonnethead, and for that reason alone, we are bonded.  She is a hippie homestyle, yet punk rock mama and I love her style and take on life. I'm also pretty sure there's an offer on the table for me to become a Sister Wife with she and her husband, so there's that too. 
3. Craughing.  http://craughing.blogspot.com/.  This lady is kicking and screaming to healthy living.  Mentally.  I just adore her and the way she looks at the world.  She is raw and gritty and has no kids, SHE AND I ARE THE ONLY ONES ON THE INTERNET THAT ARE KIDLESS.  For now.  She makes me laugh and she makes me cry.  Therefore = Craughing.  I think that there should be a term "craughy boobs" and by that I mean the heaving and the bouncing that our boobies do when we are laughing and/or crying.  As in, "OMG, she totally had the craughy boobs, and it was hard to watch, or, it was super hawt to watch!"  Anyway, she's new at this blogging thing, but I am already hooked.  Plus she has a kickass dog with his own FB page.  So there you go.  Anyone trying to get healthy has my vote. 
4. The Klonopin Chronicles.  http://theklonopinchronicles.blogspot.com/.  One of the first page people I met on Facebook. AND THEN SHE STARTED BLOGGING.  Oh my god.  She and I are so different in many ways, and yet, we have the best similarities.  She writes like a pro, she lays it out in a way we can all relate to.  She makes me want more.  She is trying to get better at life and handling things.  That is enough to suck me in.  The humor and beautiful writing will keep you going back for more.  AND, I KNOW WHAT BRA SIZE SHE WEARS.  OMG.  Boobs. She's going to kill me.
5. The Underachievers Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess.  http://underachievingdomesticgoddess.blogspot.com/.  This broad?  Has won me over.  She is so supportive and kind and funny in her comments and love for my stuff that I had to get to know hers too.  I'm so glad I did.  She is a treat!  You will love her humor and her wisdom without being pushy.  Nobody likes pushy.  I think she and I could talk for days, weeks even, about our boobs.  We've never discussed it, but I just get that feeling. 

All that being said, I always feel guilty like I wish I could list all 800 blogs I read and really love.  There will be more awards and there will be more time to share.  In the meantime, again, the blogs I love most are over there, to the right.  Go look at them. But also, you know, go look at the 7 I've listed here.  Because you know, Award Winner and all that shit.

Things I Love Thursday - Part 23

Don't say I didn't warn you.  If you are on the Facebook page, you know I am obsessed. 

This one is Dolly Parton, y'all.

Oh sure, she doesn't look like this any more, but does anyone look like they did years ago?  She will be the first person to say, hell yeah, I have work done.  She never has tried to hide any of it. 

It doesn't diminish her importance or her fabulosity.  She is still WAY over the top and cheeseball and super excited about everything, and THAT, I relate too. 

 I have stars in my eyes when I look at her.

She is an underdog.  I always root for an underdog.  A human or creature who has no right succeeding and making their way in the world.  Yes indeed.  I am IN.

She is STRONG, GRATEFUL, TALENTED, SMART, FUNNY and HONEST.  Oh yeah, and has a GREAT FUCKING RACK. 

Of course I look up to this woman.

And talk about grateful - for this? 9 to 5?  What working woman DOESN'T feel empowered by this song and movie?  This is 30 years old, and I am bopping around to it right now as I write this. 

Of course, any woman or proper gay man worth his/her salt,

knows about one of the greatest fucking movies of our time.

Thanks Krystle!

  My favorite quotes from that movie are of course Miss Truvy Quotes.  And yes, this play and screenplay were not written by Miss Dolly, but can you honestly hear them spoken by anyone else?  I can't.

This is my status last night:

"You guys know I have obsessions, right? Owls, Sister Wives, Irish Dancers, etc. The ultimate living person obsession may just be Dolly Parton. Here's why I think this, I fantasize about hanging out with her. And I know she loves church. I WOULD EVEN GO TO FUCKING CHURCH WITH HER. Ahem, everyone calm down. It's not gonna happen, but still, that's my dream. To meet Miss Dolly. And maybe even sing gospel songs with her. *runs away and hides*"

I wrote that after being in the shower and singing this song at the top of my lungs, for the 8 millionth time:

I told my husband recently that my vocal range is quite similar to Dolly's in that I can sing along with her in quite good fashion.  Meaning if we were to ever karaoke, THIS would be my song.  But I haven't karaoke'd since I got sober 10 years ago, and I'm pretty sure nobody wants to see that. 

I really don't need to explain the balls this woman has.  She came from nothing, and she gives back in a ton of different ways.  LOOK AT THAT BROAD.  Jesus God in a baby manger.  She is divine.  I can't say much more than what has been said about her already in many different ways.

Now, one bone to pick.  That "I will Always Love You" song of hers, makes me want to blow my fucking brains out.  But the rest, even the jesusy songs, I'm cool with.  That should tell you something right there. 

I revealed around Schmoliday time that I truly believed that Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton were Mr. and Mrs. Claus for a good long time when I was young, due to the charade they had going for years and I was sucked into the Hard Candy.   So in turn, I have a really fucked up view of Kenny Rogers to this day. 

I take a lot of shit for loving Dolly so much.  And that's fine.  I will go mama bear on your ass if you start talking old folks home and all that.  I respect my elders.

Especially one who pays so much money to look so cheap. 

Now, when we going to see this?

Not Trying to Get Over, Just Trying to Get Through

Fear is debilitating. 

I feel super fragile today.  Like the slightest little touch could send me spiraling into a pit of despair and self pity.  It's irrational.  It's nothing that is tangible or fixable in this moment.  All it is is a feeling.  I know what it is, and it's the feeling of taking the next step on our "get a baby" journey.  I'm scared of the unknown and afraid to have faith that whatever will be will be.   I'm by no means the first, nor the last to walk through this.  Many women, including several close friends, have been through similar experiences, and I am so grateful for their sharing. 

One of the hardest things for me since getting sober is FEELING.  Anything and everything.  Fear is the toughest.  Not only do I not get to drink it away anymore, but I don't even get to avoid it like I want to so desperately.  In accordance with working a decent 12 Step Program, I have to process the fear and walk through it. It's not pretty.  It's not easy.  It's not for the weak. 

Jesus Christ this sucks.  It's the overwhelming, gut wrenching, vomit inducing stuff that happens to people in life.  It's nothing terrible, really.  When I look back after some time and perspective, I think, that wasn't so bad.  It's being responsible and an adult, but for someone who is basically afraid of everything, something new can wreak havoc on my psyche.

It doesn't matter what the specific fear even is.  What matters is that I process it and not run away like my gut tells me to do every single time.  I cannot afford that luxury.  I cannot afford letting something eat at me and defeat me.  For me everything is at stake, meaning my sobriety.  So, I pray about it in my own unchristianlike way, and I try to let it go.  I usually have to let it go more than once.  Sometimes 849 times. A day. 

This is the stuff that I am so grateful for today.  I know that this vomitous feeling in the pit of my stomach will pass.  I know that I will be ok and that this will pass because it has in the past.  It always does.

One of my best friends in AA has this saying, "It all works out in the end.  If it hasn't worked out, it isn't the end".  Corny as shit?  Absolutely.  True?  I hope so.  I believe it is, and that's all I have, right?  What I believe and what I live is all I have.  And just for today, I choose hope over fear.  I choose sobriety over drowning my feelings.  I choose feeling vomitous for a while, rather than self medicating. 

People tell me I'm strong all the time.  And the reason I get to be strong is because I let myself feel vulnerable and weak and ask for help.  If I reach out to help someone else, it diminishes my suffering and my self pity.  You don't get one without the other.  Everyone has their kryptonite.  This is all normal, human stuff.  Emotions that people feel all the time, and walk through with grace and dignity.  I try my best to be one of those people.  10 years sober and this shit is still hard.  I think it always will be. 

FEAR is what kept me drinking for so long and with such desperation.  Today I choose not to use that. Progress not perfection. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 22

Do you know what this picture of moi means? Well you will momentarily. Hang with me. Shhhhhhhh.

This is going to be a confession of the darkest kind on Things I Love Thursday.

I LOVE PRETTY LITTLE LIARS.

"Based on a book, Pretty Little Liars follows four best friends (Spencer, Hanna, Aria & Emily) whose clique falls apart after the disappearance of their queen bee, Alison. Three years later, estranged friends reunite when they begin receiving messages from someone using the name "A" who threatens to expose their secrets - including long-hidden ones they thought only Alison knew." Some random website. 

This opening credits thing right here.  The song?  And the make ups.  And the shhhhhhhh.

Here's mine again:

It's harder than it looks.  You fucking try it.

  and then post your shhhh photos on my wall on the IWADB Facebook Page.  M'kay? 

On the Twitter a while ago, they had everyone sending in their "shhhhhh" photos.  I took a lot.  And didn't send any.  I'm not that fucking cray cray you guys. 



This is some serious fluff.  And I love every minute of it.  It's on ABC Family for god's sakes, at like, 7pm.  I'm pretty sure I'm one of the oldest weirdo creepies watching it WITHOUT KIDS of their own to back it up. 

I was a teenager who adored 90210 and Saved by the Bell and all that cheese.


I wanted to be Donna.  For reals.  Hard.  And I was a virgin forever.  Until I wasn't.  So I RELATED TO HER.  I fucking related to Donna Martin.  How fucked up is that? 





THIS. I did this. with the bikini top and high waist jean cut offs. I DID THIS SHIT. And loved it.
And my David Silvers all had to wait for my sacred gift.



Pretty Little Liars is delicious.  I mean, it's cutey pie fashion teeny bopper girls being catty and superficial combined with texting and crazy plot twists that, wait for it, SOMETIMES I CANNOT EVEN FOLLOW.  They act way too mature for their age, but then, didn't we all try to do that?  We just didn't have books and dialogue written for us.  I begrudge their amazing fucking hair and cute little bricabrac jewelry.  
 
Look at these girls.  I can only imagine how much teenage girls, tweens and pre-teens really, just love this show.  There is a story line with suspense.  I would have loved it.  Hell I love it now. 

 

Yeah, it's airbrushed and photoshopped and blah blah unreal expectations for girls, blah blah blah.

I LOVE THIS SUPERFLUOUS SHIT.  Sometimes we just need pure fluff.  And this does it for me.  I don't do the Bachelor or the Housewives or the Kardashians.  I do this.  

 

Goddammit that is embarrassing to admit.

 

I love this show.  If you don't know it or are pretending not to know it,

I'm having Glenda here sing to you, "Come out, Come out, Wherever you are".......

So we can talk about this shit.



Journey to Quit Town

I have to keep saying, I don't need this bullshit nonsense any more.

Just the facts:

• I started smoking at age 28, when I got sober.  Because I'm an addict.  And wanted to give my full attention to booze while I was doing it.  And then gave my full attention to smoking when I did it.  I'm committed to honoring my addictions.  Been smoking 10 years.
• I pay $1.20 per pack.  I know a guy.  Money is not an issue for me quitting.
• I quit in August this year for the first time, lasted 6 weeks fully quit.  Used patches and exercise plus doing a mainly vegan diet, and it worked.  I also lost 30 pounds.  Bonus!
• I am a smart person.  We all know how bad smoking is for many reasons.  But addictions wins out over any logic or reason.  It just does.
• This is my personal struggle.  I can only tell you my experience from my perspective.  It doesn't make it right and it doesn't make it wrong.  IT IS WHAT IT IS.

The Facebook page started exactly when I quit.  So some of you remember and encouraged me back then. And I appreciate it so much.  I know I sound like a broken record here, but quitting fucking sucks and many of us need more than one attempt to do it right.  To those of you who quit successfully, I admire the hell out of you.  Seriously.  I really appreciate you all being patient and supportive with me and all the other folks out there trying to quit.  Sometimes for the 10th time. 
This is from last time right before quitting.  It still applies.  This is from right at the beginning of quitting last time.  It still applies.

Full disclosure.  I can go weekdays having one a day. But weekends and days off and social situations, I have more.  That's a slippery slope.  I use it as a crutch for sure.  It's all I have.  Besides serious social anxiety.  I got off all meds and booze and that's great,  But the smoking is the hardest by far.  It's about coping in different ways.  Replacing self destruction with healthy behaviors.  WHICH GOES AGAINST MY VERY NATURE.  If I didn't pause, and think about what I do all fucking day long, I would be self destructive 99 percent of the time.  It's where I go.  It's who I am.  But I know we can change behaviors. I know it.  I live it. 

We are starting again.  For many of us, this is a resolution.  For many, it's another attempt after many failed attempts.  For me, it's because it's overdue and we have a baby coming this year, I'm sure of it. 

It's not easy to admit failure.  It's not easy to admit addiction.  But with my history, I know it's admitting and dealing with it, through action, that makes it work. Also, I know it's doing it with others who are going through the same thing that helps. 

I feel like I know what to expect this time around,  But it doesn't make it any easier,  Quitting sucks.  Plain and simple.  But if we try to help each other, hopefully it sucks a tiny bit less.  I'm going to do my best here to help and be supportive.  And I know you'll do the same for me. 

I'm not all fucking sunshine and rainbows and puppies.  I'm simply saying, what I said before and what my Sponsor told me while I was quitting drinking. You can drink/smoke tomorrow if you really want to, just don't drink/smoke today. 

I am your humble servant in this battle.  I believe we can do this.  Do you?