PigHunter has this “cabinet” that he’s been working on for his “tools” in the garage. He’s been building this “cabinet” for about a year. I have come to believe this is something he does to get out of having to do any kind of housework (“I can’t help with the laundry because I’m building my cabinet! For my tools! So I have room to do things in the garage, like, build imaginary cabinets!”)
I used to get pissed off about his stupid cabinet. Especially when he’d be like “I’m going to plant grass this weekend!” And hours would go by and grass wasn’t planted because he’d wasted hours in the garage “cutting wood” for his “cabinet.” But, I’ve come to accept the “cabinet” for what it really is.
His escape.
I have the computer. He has “the cabinet.” We’re even.
Last Friday night, he was in the garage working on “the cabinet” for most of the night. Just before 8, I heard him walk into the house. He walked into the kitchen and stood there. He looked a little pale, so I was all “You okay?” And he was all “yeah, I’m fine.”
So I dropped it.
Later that night, we were sitting on the couch and he turns to me and says “Honey, please don’t freak out. But…”
Which, of course, makes me want to FREAKTHEFUCKOUTBECAUSEOHMYGODWHATTHEHELL..WHAT?
“I have to tell you what just happened to me in the garage.”
I was scared because any time he says “please don’t freak out” it’s totally something that warrants me freaking out (Example: “Honey, please don’t freak out… but I got laid off today!”)
He continued…
“While I was cutting a piece of wood, a 4 inch piece got caught in the blade, swung around (or something like that) and came flying at me at a very high rate of speed. And it hit me RIGHT HERE. (As he points VERY CLOSE to his ManHood.)
My reaction went a little something like this:
“What? Where? Is it okay? Are YOU okay? Did you damage it? CAN YOU STILL GET IT UP HERE LET ME SEE, LET ME TOUCH IT AND SEE IF YOU CAN STILL GET IT UP.”
“Baby!” He said, while protecting his junk because I was trying to grab it and make it all stiff. “It didn’t actually hit me there. It missed by an inch or two. It hit just above that right here by my (heheheeehe totally awkward but am going to say it) pubes.”
“Oh my God. Can I see it? Is there a bruise? Are you sure your dick still works? Because, like, isn’t there some wiring up in there that is vital to the erection process that could have been damaged and OH MY GOD SHOW ME YOU CAN STILL GET IT UP RIGHT NOW PLEASE.”
He proceeded to tell me that when it hit him, it knocked the wind out of him. He also wasn’t sure exactly where it had hit him because he was in so much pain. He said he walked to the corner of the garage, holding himself, worrying if he had just done something “really bad.” After he was able to compose himself, he undid his pants to assess the damage. To his relief, there was no damage to The Goods. Just a huge bruise a couple of inches ABOVE The Goods. He said he was fine, but promised to go see the doctor if the pain was worse in the morning.
I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to reach over that night in bed and “test it.” Just, you know, give it a little rub, or maybe a little, [small voice]blow[/small voice] I resisted, for fear of hurting him or damaging things that could have possibly been broken.
The next day, we walked around acting as if he had almost lost his LIFE. We were traumatized at the idea that he came THIS CLOSE to seriously damaging his ManHood and “would I have left him if he had lost it?” Nothing like a Near Dick Loss Experience to make you appreciate that Piece O’Man Meat like you did back when you were 19 and worshiping it on a daily, if not every other hourly basis.
Category Archives: This Thing Called Life
Just when I start to hate the internet, it goes and makes me fall in love with it all over again.
I once had a “friend” who told my parents that I was “boy crazy.” This friend told my parents that I talked about boys non stop and that they should watch me carefully. Naturally, I got in big time trouble. How dare I like boys! I was supposed to ONLY LOVE JESUS. Anyway, thanks to my loud mouth, holier than thou, asshole of a friend, my parents thought that I was crazy about boys and watched me VERY CLOSELY, in case I, you know, started humping boys. The truth is, I can count on one hand the boys that I was “crazy”about in elementary school.
Bobby, David, Orel Hershiser (Yes, *that* Orel Hershiser.), Brad and Marty.
Marty was the secret love of my entire 6th grade life. He was smart, artistic and as my 12 year old self would say soooOoOOo funny! Of course, Marty never liked me back. Which was the case with most boys that I liked throughout my entire school aged life.
If I could find my diary from 6th grade, I am sure this is what it would look like:
Dear Diary,
I got kicked out of class again today. Mr.Teeter made me sit on the benches until art was over. It was Marty’s fault. He made me laugh like he always does. but he never gets in trouble!!!! But it’s ok, I still love Marty because he’s sooooo cute and soooooo funny.
Love,
Me.
Dear Diary,
I got sent to the principals office today. I brought a bandana to hit Marty back with, because he hits me with his every day! But I got in trouble because mine had too many rubberbands on it and the principal said I could hurt someone really bad with it. Marty never gets in trouble for anything, but I always do. But I still love him. He’s such a babe!!!!!!!!!
Love,
Me.
The entire year went by and Marty didn’t try to hold my hand or french kiss me behind any buildings, which was okay because I had no idea how to french kiss. (And sadly, when I had my first kiss as a SOPHOMORE IN HIGH SCHOOL, I still was clueless.) I was secretly devastated that he never liked me back, but you know, I was 12 and there were games of foursquare to be played, so life went on.
I’ve always wondered what happened to Marty, in that “where are they now” kind of way. Did he get married? Have kids? Did he still live in California? Was he a comedian? An artist? I may have even googled his name a time of 6, but nothing ever came up.
A couple of weeks ago, for reasons I can’t remember, I logged onto my classmates account. I hadn’t logged in to that account in over a year, maybe even 2. I looked over the names of people who had signed my guestbook. I saw a man who I did not recognize. His name was Marty, but a different last name then Marty from 6th grade. Curious, I clicked on his name and HOLY SHIT! It was that Marty. The babe of a boy that I had loved for an entire year was right there before my eyes, except, he was a man now. And it was a little strange, but mostly incredibly awesome. I couldn’t resist, so I sent him an email. I figured he probably didn’t remember me, but what the hell, I wanted to say hello.
He did remember me. We did a little bit of catching up. In one of the emails, he mentioned that we went to junior high together. I thought he was wrong because surely, I would remember attending the same junior high as he did! But, junior high was the worst 2 years of my entire teenage life and apparently, I have blocked most of those two years from my memory to protect my delicate little heart from the pain. I searched for my “85” year book and found it. A couple of pages in, I found this:
There was Marty, with my Totally Rad Signature Exclamation Point. (Bonus: me standing in the back of the rally with my blue trapper keeper!)
And it all came flooding back to me. We did attend the same junior high school and my crush continued for most of 7th grade, but apparently, he couldn’t read my mind, or my body language, which I’m sure was to run away every time I saw him because YOU CAN GET PREGNANT FROM JUST STANDING CLOSE TO BOYS! I guess Marty only liked girls who “were allowed to wear clothes that were in fashion.” or “allowed to shave their hairy legs.” or girls who “didn’t have to sit in the car in front of the school before school started and pray with their dads while their dads made them lift their hands and worship The Lord because YOU SHOULDN’T BE ASHAMED TO WORSHIP THE LORD IN FRONT OF YOUR FRIENDS.”
Anyway.
We emailed back and forth a couple of times and did a little catching up. It was exciting and fun– it always is when you reconnect with someone who you adored in your past. It’s nice to know after all of these years that he’s had a good life and that he’s just as artistic, funny, smart as I remember him being 25 years ago
P.S.[Little Voice]He’s still a total babe[/Little Voice]
Because I Never Want to Forget This
The day after my Grandpa died, my Grandma gave each of my boys something that belonged to their Opa. She gave The Teenager his pocket knife. She gave The Middle Child his favorite silver watch.
This morning when I woke Ethan up for school, I pulled his covers back just a bit. When I did, I saw the shiny, silver watch laying next to him.
“Why is Opa’s watch in your bed, Sweetie?” I asked.
“Because I miss him and I want to feel close to him.” He said.
Remembering
Yesterday was the first good day that I’ve had since Grandpa died. The anger had somewhat subsided and even though I felt sad, I didn’t cry at all.
Everything changed when I tried to go to sleep. When I closed my eyes, I could see my Grandfather laying in his bed, blue from lack of oxygen, swollen beyond recognition, tongue hanging out of his mouth, double it’s normal size. I could see him flailing around in the hospital bed, eyes swollen shut, unable to talk. I could see his wrists strapped to the bed and the blood around the IV.
I try to think back to when he was happy, full of life and full of funny stories that would make anyone who heard them laugh. I try so hard to go to that place, but I always come back to the horrific images of him in his final hours.
Is this something that time will heal? Because I don’t want to remember that day, or the way that he died. I want to remember his sense of humor, the way that he loved his family and the honorable life he lived.
I’ve been scanning pictures of him all day– I want to make a slide show for the memorial service. As hard as it is, it is helping to remember the good times. I just hope that when I close my eyes to sleep tonight, I can see the images here before me now, and not the ones that tormented me last night.
Grieving
I want you to know that the kind messages left here have been a great comfort to me. The last two days have been the most emotionally exhausting days of my life. The pain I feel from the death of Grandpa is overwhelming at times. Especially when I have to comfort my children whose hearts are broken by the loss. I am also dealing with anger about his final hours. I can’t erase the picture from my mind of my Grandpa laying in his bed, unresponsive, turning BLUE and my aunt saying “He’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine! We don’t need to call 911. He’s just reeeeeeeaaaally sleepy from the pain medication!” (Translation: Let’s just let him die here in his bed due to lack of oxygen because I’m tired of taking care of him and hey! He wanted to die in his bed anyway!) My siblings wouldn’t stand for her Crazy, so we called 911 shortly after we arrived so that he could get the treatment he needed and die in peace and comfort.
I’m SO ANGRY about it. But mostly sad. Sad that he’s gone. Sad that it happened the way that it did. Sad that people could be so cruel. Sad that my last memory of him is so devastatingly horrific.
My Grandma has chosen to have him cremated. There will be a graveside, military funeral next Thursday. (He had a purple heart from WW2. His tank was struck by a missile, he was the last one to make it out before the tank was struck, but he was severely wounded by the shrapnel.) Having to wait a week to bury is tough, but I look forward to that day so we can lay him to rest and life can get back to normal around here.
Proof That Growing Old Together is Awesome Fun!
“Hey, babe. I saw nose hair trimmers at Rite-Aid. I think I’m going to go back and buy one.” –PigHunter, shouting at me from the bathroom while shaving.
And finally… some good news.
When my husband was laid off, my initial reaction was panic and fear. Mostly because I feared we’d lose health insurance. With 3 kids and an autoimmune disease, that’s a frightening thought.
After the fear and panic subsided, I made a decision to stop with the tears and figure out a way to make sure that didn’t happen.
I sat down and wrote a letter asking for a full time position with a company that I company that I had already been working with for the past year. I put my insecurities and fears of rejection aside and pointed out all of the reasons why I’d be an excellent addition to the company. That kind of confidence doesn’t come naturally to me, it’s much easier (and cowardly) for me to point out my faults and weakness. But I have to say, highlighting my strengths and abilities was empowering. I felt SO DAMN GOOD about myself when I finished that letter and hit “send.”
I also felt scared.
Scared of being rejected. Scared of hearing “Thanks, but no thanks.”
I waited a few days without hearing back. But then, I got a phone call that changed my life. Our lives.
I got the job. A full time job, work at home job with a real salary that will allow me to help provide for my family and that eliminates the fear of losing my health insurance.
Today is my first official day and I am so happy I could scream.
My First and Only Male Stripper Experience: Part Two
You can read part one here.
The Hostess walked in and told everyone to take their seats as Stripper Santa would be making his appearance shortly. There was a mad rush of women who ran to the back of the room. I was tempted to start knocking bitches to the floor so that I could grab one of the back row seats. After seeing Rico Suave Santa, I was preeeeetty sure he wasn’t going to be stripping down to “boxers!only!” and really didn’t want to be in the front row for the unveiling of that particular package. However, I remained calm and decided to wait until everyone had a seat to find my place. Of course, I ended up on a folding chair in the “front row.”
I was terrified for several reasons. I had never seen a stripper live and in person nor did I have any desire to see a stripper live and in person. What if he started grinding in front of me? What if his “Christmas Package” accidentally brushed up against my leg? HOW WOULD I DEAL WITH THAT? Would I cry? Would I laugh? Would I want to kick it? Would I want to pet it?
Once everyone was seated, the hostess came out and was all “Ladies, are you ready for a little fun?” Most of the women were just as uncomfortable as I was, so everyone was kind of like “um, yes?” Except for one of the older ladies who I will refer to as “Marmen.” Marmen waved her Horny Flag high in the sky in the form of dollar bills and was all “WHOOOOOO! I”m READY!!”
The hostess took her seat and suddenly, a Little Person in an elf suit appeared holding a boom box on his shoulder. I hit the woman next to me and was all “I TOLD you there was an elf!” He ran around in the little space in the middle of the room trying to get the “crowd” pumped up. There aren’t any words to properly convey how mortified I felt in that moment. I put my head down, trying not to lose it because AN ELF RUNNING AROUND ASKING IF WE’RE READY TO WATCH RICO SUAVE SANTA GET TAKE HIS CLOTHES OFF. HA HA HA HA HAAHAA”
He pushed play on the boombox and BOOYAH! Rico Suave Santa appeared in all of his wavy haired, chiseled body glory.
I wish I could remember the song that was playing as he started bumping and grinding, but for the life of me I can’t. I am pretty sure it’s because I went deaf and numb in that moment in anticipation of what was about to happen before my eyes. In fact, I’m getting all red with embarrassment as I type this. It was THAT bad.
Lil Elf was moving and grooving in the background as R.S. Santa began unbuttoning his Santa top. Marmen went nuts.
“WOO, BABY!” She shouted. He threw his shirt to the ground, walked over to her and began doing that move that strippers do where they do that wave with their body that starts with the head and travels down to their legs. Do you know what I’m talking about? If I could find my Flip cam, I’d totally re-enact it for you. That’s how much I love you.
It didn’t take long before the pants came off.
OH!
MY!
GOD!
NOT boxers.
Thong.
Bulge.
Ass.
Smooth.
BULGE.
ASSSSSSSSSSSS.
The older women in the room went ceraaaaazy. There was hootin’ and hollerin’ and woo’s! and hoo’s! and dollar bills! And then… there was me. With my head in my hands, praying to the Lord. “Jesus, please do not let him come near me with all of that hanging out all over the place.”
I lifted my head long enough to watch Rico Suave grinding his way towards me. I began to panic. Dear God, let him turn. Let him TURN. LET HIM TURN.
He didn’t turn.
As he got closer to me, I panicked. I put my hand up in that “Stop in the Name of Love” manner and said “NO!” He looked at me all “WTF, bitch?” And I looked at him all “I don’t want your jirating junk near my leg, asshole!”
It was totally awkward and I felt like an asshole but then Marmen came to rescue. “Get over here, Sexy.” She screamed. He backed up into her lap, laid back and started grinding her leg. Marmen loved it so much that she reached over and began TO RUB! HIS! NIPPLES! Rico Suave liked to have his nipples rubbed and I know this because well, ha ha you know. BONER! The lady next to me screamed “ewww” while I tried to catch my breathe from laughing so hard. The lady sitting next to Marmen didn’t seem to be phased by the boner whatsoever. She began slipping dollar bills into his g-string while Marmen continued playing with Rico’s chest area.
This only went on for a few minutes, but it felt like HOURS AND HOURS.
Eventually, the music stopped (Thanks, little elf man!) and Rico Suave picked up his clothes off the floor and exited the room. We all sat around, laughing and trying to process what had just happened. Out of nowhere, Lil Elf Man appeared and struck up a conversation with me. I was polite, but secretly hoped he’d go away. He didn’t go away. Instead, he asked if I wanted to dance. I was all “ha ha! No thank you!” But Lil Elf Man wasn’t hearing it. He grabbed the boom box, turned it on and started to dance. “Come on!” He said to me. ” ha ha! It’s ok! I’ll pass!” “COME ON! IT’LL BE FUN!” At this point, I stopped being so nice and was all “Really, I’d rather not, but thank you.”
Next thing you know, Lil Elf Man was tearing it up in the middle of the room WITHOUT ANY PANTS ON. Then! And I swear to GOD this is a true story, he came up to me and started dry humping my leg.. I was paralyzed for a second because PANTLESS LIL ELF MAN IS DRYHUMPIN’ MY LEG.
I was all “Dude! Get off of my leg!” And he was all “Come on! WOO!” And I was all “WTF LEAVE ME ALONE!” and he was all “ha ha ha! Merry Christmas!” And so I did what any woman with a half naked elf humping her leg would do. I kicked my leg in an attempt to fling him off. It didn’t work, but he realized that I wasn’t playing around at that point and so he dismounted on his own. I knelt down so that I could make eye contact with him and said something to the effect of “That wasn’t cool, Man.” in a Very Serious Tone.
And then I went home, took a Violation Shower.
The End.
NOT 38!
Her: I’ll be 38 in September!
Me: Me too! What is your actual birthday?
Her: The 21’st.
Me: Mine is the 9th.
Her: So you were born in 70, eh?
Me: Um… actually…I was born in 71. *starts counting with my fingers* OH SHIT! I’M NOT 37! I’M ONLY 36! This entire year I’ve thought I was already 37!
And that is why this is going to be the best birthday since turning 30. Because I am a year younger than I thought I was and that’s kind of awesome when you’re approaching 40.
Since I post pictures of what my children look like on the morning of their birthdays, I thought it was only fair I post one of what I looked like when I woke up this morning. You’re not imagining things. I really am that hot (Puff-ay!) and I really do have dandruff.
You would have called your pastor too if you had been forced to watch movies as a child where people were all baking cakes and stuff and then “poof!” they were gone!
To answer the question: “How are you guys doing?”
The company that hired my husband on after he was laid off doesn’t have any work. They’ve been trying to keep him busy doing odd jobs around the equipment yard, but on Friday, they told him to stay home today because there was nothing for him to do. I have a feeling he’ll be off all week. This is when the “you’re no longer on salary” shit starts to hurt.
Tony is trying to start a business which has very low start up costs and I have faith that he will make it work. I’m proud of him for being proactive and not sulking about what has happened to him. I fully support him in his new business venture and will do everything in my power to help him make it happen and be successful. I also have faith that good things will happen for me– things that I have been working hard for. I have to believe that they will pay off and my hard work will, at some point, be recognized and rewarded accordingly.
I’ve been continuing to pray every day and I started to read the bible. This is not the first time that I’ve read the bible on my own without anyone telling me what it all means, but the first time that I’ve stuck with it for longer than a couple of days. I find it hard at times to keep interest, because, you know– it’s totally different than a blog. Like, I can’t comment and be like “God, what does that mean? Email me! or ping me on G-chat when you have some time, k? Thanks!” (Also, I have an incredibly short attention span.) But then, I’ll read something that speaks to my soul, as if it were written just for me and I get sucked in, wanting to learn more. Wanting to understand what it all means and how it pertains to my life.
I’ve always found the bible to be a liiiiiiittle scary. Most of my memories of biblical teachings were of the “You’re going to burn in the pit of hell if you do not repent of your sins!” There wasn’t a whole lot of teachings of the Grace and love of God.
And don’t even get me started on the whole “Jesus is coming soon” sermons. SCARY.
Now, that’s not to say that I don’t believe in “The Rapture.” (Although, I’ll fully admit I started to roll my eyes when my dad would say that to me because YOU’VE BEEN SAYING THAT SINCE THE DAY THAT I WAS BORN AND WE’RE STILL HERE SO I’M NOT SCARED ANYMORE! But, that was probably just my rebellion and NOT my disbelief) However, there was a time I believed it and I feared it with every fiber of my being.
Example:
Anytime my parents were late coming home, I would start to panic. “The rapture most have happened! And I was left behind! I’m going to have to have my head chopped off to get into heaven!” But before I’d have a full on meltdown, I’d pick up the phone and call people who I was sure would not be “left behind”, like, our pastor! And if he would answer the phone, I’d rejoice because “The Rapture didn’t happen after all! I wasn’t left behind! I’m not going to have to have to suffer persecution to make it to heaven after all!”
(True story!)
Needless to say, I didn’t really experience a lot of the “Joy” that I hear people talking about when they speak of their faith.
I want to experience that joy. I’m ready to know what that feels like.
If you were raised in the Christian faith, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the Rapture. What were you taught about it? Do you believe in it as an adult? Do you think that we’re “living in the last days?” Your point of view will be valuable to me.