Keep it Klassy Folks

It seems that these days simple etiquette has been thrown out the window in favor of tacky money-grubbing. Today I received an invitation to a housewarming party in the mail. Someone I know, who has had her own apartment for years, is moving in to a new condo with her boyfriend, who has had his own apartment for years. Apparently this occasion is something that one would register for?? However, on the back I found this little note:
Let's forget, for a moment, the crazy grammatical mistakes and just look at the message. They are asking for gift cards and gift visas!! They are thanking their guests in advance. They are pretty much demanding a gift. Now if this isn't Klassy with a K, I don't know what is.

This particular incident reminded me of some other super Klassy things I have been witness to in the last few months:

1. When I called my aunt to see where my cousin was registered for his wedding she said, "Oh, they're not registering anywhere, they just want money for their honeymoon." I did not send money, because I was not invited to the wedding to begin with. I was going to be nice and send a little gift anyways, but that little stunt warranted my scorn in the fashion of NO Gift For You!!
2. My parents went to my cousins wedding. The bride wore white fishnets & platform stripper heels. Her bridesmaids wore short red dresses, black fishnets & red platform stripper heels. Klassy!
3. At the reception they had a Dollar Dance. (If you are unfamiliar with this concept, feel free to click the link) While Wikipedia may stay neutral on this, I declare TACKY! What an awesome 1st act as a new husband; pimp your wife out!
4. I have also been invited to a baby shower. No biggie, except for the fact that this is the girl's 2nd baby out of wedlock, different baby-daddy of course. The kicker? I haven't seen this girl in at least 2 years! The invitation should have read as follows: "I know we haven't spoken in 2 years and you probably wouldn't even consider me an acquaintance, but hey! buy a gift for my bastard baby! Because y'know, somehow I didn't learn how to keep this from happening the first time."

I could go on an on. I'm not quite sure what the hell people are thinking these days. Keep it Klassy folks, Keep it Klassy!

So Then I Shut my Big Fat Mouth

Anyone who knows me, knows that subtlety has never been my strong suit. I say what I feel often loudly, and with a few four letter words thrown in for effect. I really do love 4 letter words. Well last night was no exception to the subtlety rules, and it did involve a four letter word; LOVE.

Boyfriend and I went out for a very romantic, fancy dinner last night to celebrate 2 years of dating bliss. It was all going so wonderful. Before ordering we talked about all of the things we loved about each other (feel free to throw up in your mouth at any time) and what made our relationship so good. Then Boyfriend made a huge mistake; he bought a bottle of wine. We toasted to 2 years of love and happiness (you puking yet?) ordered our food and enjoyed a lovely evening.

And then I got tipsy.

Marriage has been a hot topic for the last 6 months or so, and when I get some alcohol in me, it never fails to come up. It started out innocently enough, just re-examining if we wanted to elope or have a super small wedding in town. Then I opened my big fat mouth and these exact words came out, "So are you saving up for my ring? Have you already bought it? You know people keep telling me that you probably already have it, but are waiting for me to shut up about getting married. I bet if I went a whole month without talking about it, you might propose. Am I right? Huh?" His response, "Patience is important. Patience gets you good things. That's all you're getting out of me."

So then I shut my big fat mouth, but man! The suspense is killing me! And I bet he's loving every single minute of watching me squirm.

13 Things I Hate About You

Okay, Driving in Memphis? Not quite as magical as "Walking in Memphis." So here's a list of 13 things I hate about you, Memphis drivers. (I am exempt, by the way. I learned how to drive in California where they require driver's education classes before you can get a license.)

1. Coming to a complete stop on the interstate to change lanes because no one will let you in, even though you don't have a turn signal on.
2. Cutting off people who are driving faster than you, then staying right in front of them even though you could get back in the slow lane
3. Driving 45 in the fast lane. Heck! No one seems to realize the left lane is for going fast
   
4. People driving very slow 3 across so no one can get past any of you
   
5. 18 wheelers in the fast lane and/or driving 3 across
   
6. The emergency lane is for an emergency, not blowing past traffic & then trying to merge back in. You're really not more important than everyone else.
   
7. Looking for something you lost on the passenger side of your car & swerving into the lanes of traffic next to you.
   
8. Getting so caught up in talking on your cell phone while driving your huge SUV that you don't even realize there is someone next to you in the lane you're trying to merge into.
   
9. Chillin in the middle of a shopping center exit lane with no turn signal, so I have NO IDEA whether you're turning right or left out of the place.
   
10. The general disregard for the use of turn signals
    
11. Honking at someone you've just pulled out in front of for being in your way
    
12. Turning left long after the arrow has turned red because 'wait your turn' doesn't apply to you.
    
13. Swerving in and out of traffic erratically at high speeds. Just because you watch a lot of NASCAR doesn't mean you drive for them.

I'm only 26 and already a cripple!

As some of you know, and some of you may not know, I compete in powerlifting. This is NOT the kind of competing where the women dress up in tiny gold lame bikinis, get fake tanned beyond recognition, and flex their gigantic muscles. I deadlift. I squat down, grab hold of a barbell loaded with weight, and push/pull it up to lockout (which for me is about crotch level).

So, I was working out Thursday night, making sure to wear my very thick pretty pink weightlifting belt. All was going great; 118 lbs x 2, 135 x2, 155 x 2 (a little painful in the back, but surely just a cramp). Then I did 165 x 2. I took off my belt & it hit me. Holy crap my back HURT! I sat down thinking it was just a cramp, Boyfriend thought so too, but 15 minutes later I tried to get up, and couldn't move! I mean literally could not move without feeling like someone was stabbing me in the back over, and over, and over! All I'm thinking is "Damn! I'm a cripple!! I'm only 26 and already a cripple!" Boyfriend was kind enough to get me to the couch while I yelped "Ow ow ow ow ow ow!" like a big ol' baby. He got me a cold compress, some pain pills & back support. Let me tell you. I have NEVER experienced plain like that in my life.

I stayed in bed and worked from home the 1st part of the next morning, took some more pain pills & slept the rest of the day. Let me tell you my loyal readers, pain pills make life a happy place when you've got a pulled/torn muscle. Those, plus lots of alcohol helped me deal with being dipped while dancing, pulled down on the dance floor by a crazy lesbian, and gave me the strength to push a crazy Brazilian to the floor after he tried to shove his tongue down my throat. (Yeah, I hosted a bachelorette party downtown Friday night)

I'm feeling much better today. Still very sore. Still getting muscle cramps & twitches like crazy. It remains to be seen whether I'll be able to stand an entire day sitting in my hard chair at work, but all-in-all I'll be fine. Just another reason why no one ever called me graceful, and why everyone always calls me accident prone!

And Then All Hell Broke Loose

Today I am going to start the story of the divorce (and marriage) that Jerry Springer probably wouldn't even believe. I'll start kind of in the middle, go to the end, then maybe swing back to the beginning.

Once upon a time (April 2002) I was a naive 19 year old, who 7 months prior, had crossed the country from my home of 18 years in Southern California to my new home in North Mississippi, (making a 1 night stopover at the parish jail in Opelousas, LA). And only 4 months before that I had been released from an inpatient mental health facility. Yes, dear readers, my stay in the nut house had something to do with the move, we'll get to that in another blog. The point is I was19, naive, but not really.

I was naive enough to "fall in love." 6 months later I was engaged to the guy we will now affectionately refer to as Redneck Redhead. At 22, despite my reservations and nagging doubt, I married Redneck Redhead. Apparently, it was also despite the unexpressed doubts, fears, and protests of many of my family members. Nonetheless, we were married, and then all hell broke loose. (As is usually the case when you marrry a Redneck Redhead)

14 months after the "I Do's" the first of many What the Hell Was I Thinking? episodes occurred. I was a teacher, and had to chaperone football games as part of my job duties. Redneck Redhead (RR) had already informed me that he would never come with me to one of these events because, "I don't make you come to work with me. Why the hell should I have to go to work with you??" So, this fateful night in September I left for the game and told him I'd probably be home around 10 PM. So sad for him; I got home at 9:30.

RR was nowhere to be seen, and left no note. I called his personal cell first, and it rang until I got his voicemail. I called his work cell second, and the same thing happened. I tried the personal cell again and it went straight to voicemail. He'd turned it off. Same thing with the work number. Oh no he di'in't!

I called his mom's house to see if he had gone to Mommy Redneck's house for a haircut, as he was prone to do. Nope, no RR there! I looked under the bed just to be sure, no RR there! I called his brother, Stoner Redneck, thinking RR'd gone there to hang out but he informed me that he hadn't seen or heard from RR in several days. I tried both cell phones a second time and, again, they went straight to voicemail. OH NO HE DI'IN'T! So there I sat, on my couch, checking between the cushions for RR (yeah, he was that scrawny) and wondering what happened to my husband. Did he get into a car accident and end up lying dead in a ditch? Had he been abducted by aliens? Or the more obvious choice; was he with another woman??

Finally 1/2 hour later my phone rang, and it was RR! The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi baby! Where are you?? I got home early & you weren't here. I was worried!

RR: I'm at my brother's house. Didn't hear the phone ring.

Me: Don't lie to me. I just talked to him and he said he hadn't seen or heard from you in days. Where the hell are you???

RR: I swear, I'm at my brother's!

Me: Don't fucking lie to me you bastard!

RR: OK. I just got here. I was at Fat Redneck's house hanging out & playing the drums.

Me: Really? Why didn't you tell me in the 1st place?

RR: Because I thought you would be mad if I was out hanging out with my friends while you were at the game & I didn't go with you.

Me: Ok, fine. Give me Fat Redneck's phone number. I want to call him & make sure.

RR: Oh, uh well, let me call you back when I get inside my brother's house. I'll give it to you then.

Me: No, you've got it right there in your phone, just give it to me now.

RR: No. Let me call you back.

Me: I'm not going to let you call him & tell him the lie you just told me so he can cover for you. Give me the number.

RR: No.

Me: You were with a woman, weren't you? Please just be a man & admit it.

RR: No.

Me: I'm going to stay at my parents' house. I don't know if/when I'll be back.

RR: No, please, no.

Me: *Click*

Please, before you label me insecure, bitchy, etc. please know the suspiscion didn't just come out of nowhere, trust me. I should have left for good then. I knew he was up to no good. Deep down in my gut, I knew then that he was having an affair. But by Sunday he was at my parents' door crying and begging me to come back, and I went. My parents were unsure, but I was in love. I was married. I wanted to try to make it work. I had no idea there was nothing on Earth that would ever make Redneck Redhead a better man.

Ok, so maybe I did have an idea, but who wants to admit that????

Until next time . . .

The Episode Where Things Fall into a Million Pieces

I am at a loss.

As some of you know, Boyfriend's dad died in early April. Tuesday morning his grandmother passed away while clutching the urn filled with her son's ashes. The burial of those ashes was scheduled for this Sunday. So now Boyfriend will bury his father & grandmother on the same day. This morning his grandfather suffered a severe stroke and is looking like he may not make it.

The right words are hard to find. What do I say? What do I do to ease his pain? I will be traveling to New York with him for the burials, but it doesn't seem like enough. There is too much sadness, too much death, too much loss. My arms can't encircle him enough times; they aren't that long. I'm so sad for him & his family, but I'm so angry, too. Why would God deem it fit to heap all of this pain on a family at once? Why, after the childhood he endured and his struggle to become the wonderful man he is today would God do this? I'm going to be a 5 year old about this. It's just not fair.

This is Where Things Get Tricky

Today Boyfriend and I have an appointment to meet a possible new addition to our family. Yes, that's right; we're adopting a dog! A few years ago I, sadly, had to give my Yorkie named Gidget to my parents because she was just too high maintenance. She needed constant attention, other dogs to play with, to be let out every 2 hours, and I just couldn't provide that for her. I have had dogs all my life, so these last 2 years without a cuddle buddy has been tough.

Saturday we went down to the grocery store, and lo and behold, they had dogs for adoption! I played with a few, but I knew none were quite right for us. I couldn't let it go though, my desire for a dog had somehow completely consumed me and damnit! I was going to talk to Boyfriend about the merits of having a dog until he caved. So we came up with a list of qualities we wanted in our dog:

• An adult
• Housetrained
• Relaxed, but playful
• Non-destructive
• A good companion
• Happy to be an only dog

That's when Boyfriend brought up an ex's Boston Terrier. The only dog he had ever really liked. So, I searched for adoptable adult Boston Terriers in the area (knowing full well that this was a long shot.) To my great surprise Odie popped up. A 2 year old male Boston Terrier who loves to chill inside on the couch during the day, then go frolic & take walks in the evening. A dog happy to be alone with just his parents AND housebroken!!

This is where things get tricky. Who knew that adopting a rescue would be more complicated than any process Angelina Jolie goes through to acquire one of her many exotic children?! We went down to the adoption center and filled out a 5! page application. Odie wasn't there, so we scheduled a meet & greet at our house this afternoon. Our home and yard must be inspected, our interaction with Odie will be observed, they'll pull a full criminal background check on both of us & maybe even take a blood sample! I understand, though, it's all to make sure he goes to a good home. I'm a little nervous that they won't like us, or something will go wrong. I really want this dog, man! So cross your fingers that Odie will be our new baby!