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Furious Bits - October 2006

Pizza delivery for a Fringer.

October 31st 2006 16:39
Last night we ordered pizza. I was feeling a bit lazy, and just wanted something good, hot and comforting. We ordered from Papa Johns. Aislinn and I settled down to read a book and wait for the pizza man.

After a few minutes, I hear a familiar rumble coming down our street. Pulling into our driveway was a very LOUD Jeep. In it was our pizza... and Jordan.


Who is Jordan? Jordan is my youngest sisters boyfriend... er EX-boyfriend. Recent Ex-boyfriend. They broke up over the usual things young kids out of high school break up for. New colleges, new things, new horizons. You know how it is. Hell, Tony and I did the same thing before high school graduation. I'll never forget standing there, while my parents push us together to get pictures, and my parents inviting him for dinner, which he declined. As he walked away, I told my parents we broke up. I guess I should have told them that bit BEFORE pictures huh? Now that we're married now, it is nice to have pictures of us at graduation, even if we're both wearing tight, uncomfortable smiles.


Oh, back to Jordan.

I hear his Jeep, a sound I am used to hearing, as he was such a big part of our family for a long time. I've actually driven that rattletrap Jeep. I took my mom for a drive in it to the grocery store, while she uncomfortably held her skirt down, and we laughed at the absurdity of it all. The loudness of it, the wires dangling dangerously out of the bottom of the dash.

When I opened the door, (a bit excitedly I might add) Jordan was getting the pizza's out, and he waved (a bit excitedly on his part as well) I yelled "Hey kids! It's Jordan!" They ran to the door, and jumped excitedly up and down, yelling "Jordan!! Hey Jordan!" Jordan walked up to the door, all grins, while we all grinned. We did the usual transactions that involve the pizza man and his customer. We chatted a little bit, and he went on his way, making other families happy with his presence. For us though, it wasn't the pizza that had us smiling, it was the delivery man.


When he left, I felt like crying. I had to call Michelle to tell her who delivered the pizza, and ask her if I was weird for wanting to cry. She said no thankfully.

Love is so hard. So much of it involves the two in love, but it also involves those on the fringe of that love. The moms, and dads, and the nerdy sisters. The nieces and nephews, and the dogs. A lot of times, people will stay with someone longer for those fringers. Not wanting to hurt them, or not wanting to break the bond they have developed with them. I understand why my sister broke up with Jordan. It was her right, and the right decision for her. That doesn't make it hurt less, for her, for Jordan, and for us Fringers.

The complete irony of the situation? Jordan has worked there for a very long time. We used to order from Papa Johns once and week, and not ONCE had he delivered to us when he was with Correen. This was his first time delivering to our house.

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Cardinals win!!! Now, can I play Sims?

October 29th 2006 18:01
I sat on the computer for an HOUR yesterday trying to get tickets to the ceremony at Busch Stadium that is today. In case you live under a rock (or outside the US) our hometown team won the WORLD Series. ( WORLD being just the United States and parts of Canada of course) They were offering free tickets to wait inside Busch Stadium for the parade to end there, and then you could see the ceremonies etc. I never did get the fucking tickets.

I am not a sport fan. Ironically, I come from a family of sports fanatics. I'm talking "I refuse to wear red for a World Series game because everytime they won, I wasn't wearing red" (my Mom) or "I need to take this shirt off and put on the other one, they're losing! (My sister) or "Hurry up!! Take the head bands off, when we put them on, Detroit got a hit! (My dad) and "Give me the RAlly bat, I always rest my head on the rally bat! (My sister again) It's all in good fun of course, but I just don't get caught up in all that. I have no idea why. I don't know what I am missing inside me that just finds sports so utterly boring, that even though my family is wringing their hands in worry, and then jumping for joy, I sit there wishing it would just end already. I have Sims that need my attention. I wish I were more into it, they always look like they're having so much fun.

One thing I liked about Tony is that he wasn't a sport nut either. I dreamed of having a sport free family. Growing up, I always felt a little left out because I preferred reading to playing sports. There were a few times I attempted, and even though I do have some athletic ability, I just didn't get into it. As we got older though, Tony got more into sports. At first I was disappointed, but now I just accept it. I'd love him even if he was a heroin addict.

We went to a friends house to watch the game that could determine if we would win, which we did. Everyone was so into it. I sat there feeling like a fraud in my red Cardinal jersey, clapping when the times called for it, and jumping at the right moments. It was all an act though. Sure near the end, I felt a twinge of excitment, but I didn't walk around with the grin that everyone else did for the rest of the night.

I just don't get it. I WANT to like it. It would be different if I didn't know shit about baseball, but I do. There was no getting around that growing up with my family. I just don't get into it like others do. I love going to games, but that's more for the atmosphere. I barely watch the game.

I'll try again with football, which I do like more than baseball. Sometimes I will actually turn a football game and watch it.

It's hard to be different. Trust me, it's not always fun.

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Mmmm crow tastes good!!

October 27th 2006 21:12
I feel bad for my post yesterday. Aislinn did somethng so amazingling sweet last night, I could barely hold back the tears.

We had our parent's 30th anniversary dinner. I was so caught up in cooking and all that, I put off doing her homework. I figured we would have dinner and then come home, get it done, get a bath and go home. I forgot about the ball game. We ended up staying there WAY later than expected (11pm).

Tony and I decided that since it was a very special occasion (30th anniversary AND a World Series game) we'd let her stay home. She was so happy.

We get home, and we put her brother down. We tell Aislinn it was time for bed. She asked for her special water cup, and I ran out to the van to get it. When I came back in is when I saw our surprise.

Aislinn had made our bed as best she could, put the pillows in the right spots, and put my sleep mask (I have sleep apnea) on my pillow like a mint or something.

I was floored and couldn't stop saying how proud of her I was. I tried really hard not to bawl my eyes out. It was so incredibly sweet.

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Go call your mother and say Thank You.

October 26th 2006 14:17
Go! Do it now! I'll wait. Go call your mother and tell her thank you. If you' mother is unfortunately no longer with us, then stop and say thanks to her in your mind and in your heart. I just called MY mother and told her thanks. She said I was being a brown noser and laughed. But, I meant it.

Why is this important to me at this very moment? Why do I want everyone to do it? Becuase I just spent twenty minutes fishing a fucking shirt pin out of our 75 gallon fish tank. Why was I fishing a shirt pin out of our 75 gallon fish tank? Because two weeks ago, we had a wedding to go to. My wonderful husband got a new shirt, and put the shirt pins on our fish tank. Those fucking shirt pins have sat there for TWO weeks. Finally, out of aggravation I picked them up, because he wasn't going to do it. As I was picking them up, one fell in the water.

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"I'm poopin'!!"

October 26th 2006 01:11
Sometimes I wish I could be a kid again. The things kids can get away with is so awesome.

Today, Jonny and I went to the mall. We walked around, and the last place we went to was a clothing store selling the latest slut wear for 6 yr olds. Even though 98% of the stuff I would never let a 15 yr old wear much less my 6 yr old, sometimes I go in just to see what they have for the kids whose mothers aren't trying to relive their glory days through their girls


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Yo ho ho and a bottle of Advil.

October 24th 2006 13:53
I am married to sailor. I know that sounds glamorous and all. Everyone has visions of Richard Gere hoisting up Debra Winger at the end of Officer and A Gentleman, as she playfully wears his hat. It's NOT like that. Trust me. I barely see my husband in his uniform. When he was on a ship, his uniform was a coverall. Which is NOT by any means sexy. If he hoisted me up in the air, we'd fall down. He has a bad back. Not stuff romance movies are made of.

I think probably the most irritating thing about being a military family is the fact that the military RULES YOUR LIFE. It sucks big donkey dong and there really isn't much you can do about it. You just have to accept that family will never, ever come first if you're a military family. It's the small price to pay for health insurance and a steady paycheck.

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Sim-ply fun! Sim-ply pathetic.

October 22nd 2006 22:17
I am a Sims2 fan. I don't get as much time to play as I'd like because for me, playing Sims 2 is the equivalent of being stuck in a black hole or vacationing in the bootheel of Missouri. You stay the same, but time all around in the universe has kept on going, moving on with the times, and keeping up to date with fashion. Either way, you wake up, dazed, hungry, with a slightly hung over feeling, and in stone washed pants. It's scary really.

Lately though, I have rearranged my priorities to play Sims more frequently. By rearranging my priorities, I mean letting everything else go to shit so I can play. But, you know, as long as my kids aren't dead they're fine. They actually love my Simming because they can eat Doritoes until they explode. Cool Ranch for breakfast, and nice aged Nacho Cheese for lunch, and for dinner, well that would be the crumbs at the bottom of each bag of course


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As women we are required by nature to read magazines like Cosmo and Glamour and then hate ourselves for not being the perfect Cosmo Girl or Glamour Gal. It used to be just about the clothes. You'd look at those $200 dollar tops, and $900 pants and wish you could afford them,even though if you COULD afford them, you couldn't wear them because you're not a double negative size 00. Sometimes, you would get a copy that would say "100 clothing bargains of the season" and you'd excitedly rip the plastic off, and thumb through the pages. What? I can look like a Cosmo Girl or a Glamour Gal on my budget? Sweet!! Then you get the article and it's STILL way out of your budget. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time buying a $20 top, so, excuse me if I don't run out and jump on a $60 top becuase it's a fashion "steal". Actually, the only way I could afford it is if I stole it.

Now there is another reason to hate ourselves from Glamour and Cosmo. Something you don't notice until you have children, and you're, you know, LIVING A FUCKING LIFE. They make you feel bad about not being the SEX GODDESS you should be. You know all those articles they have, the titles screaming at you from the check out line. "WE'RE HAVING BETTER SEX THAN YOU!!!" or "ORGASMS! WE HAVE THEM! YOU DON'T! YOU SUCK!" or "WE LOVE GIVING BLOW JOBS! AS A MATTER OF FACT, I JUST BLEW YOUR HUSBAND, BECAUSE YOU WON'T!!"

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That's right. Good fucking intentions. From the moment you pee on that stick and get those two lines and you swore you'd lay off the caffeine (and by caffeine, I mean crack) , to the present moment when you SWORE you'd take the kids to the park, and there you sit, in your pj's, blogging about your intention to take them to the park.

Yet, don't feel down. It's not your fault, you hear me? Do NOT beat yourself up. I mean, yeah ok, your laziness plays a role, and your selfishness too. Yet, they play surprisingly small roles. First of all, SOCIETY expects too much from the present day mom. If I have to see one more trim mom mopping up a spilled juice cup wearing a toile skirt and beads on tv, I'm going to vomit on the remote. I'll vomit on the remote, and then just put a towel over it, cuz that how I roll bitches. It won't even be a tea towel or anything fancy, but the stained towel that Tony brought home from the ship that belonged to his friend Mitch Earhardt. And FYI... I do get a little skeeved out when I dry off my crotch with the towel and see his name stencilled on the towel. It seems all to personal


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I have a new tv obsession called Heros. This show is in one word... amazing. It's kind of like Xmen, but you meet the people as they're realizing their powers, not knowing what exactly is going on. They don't know why they are like this, and are coming together from all over the world.

My favorite character in the show is Hiro. Hiro is a little nobody cubicle worker from Japan. He's a little chubby, he wears glasses that he obsessively pushes up his squat nose, and he has the nerdiest haircut in the history of Tv-dom. He looks NOTHING like a Hero. He is obsessed with American science fiction, Star Wars, Star Trek and the like. When we first met him, he was sure he could stop the space time continuem and teleport. We don't know what makes him think this, but we see him sitting in his cubicle, the sound of clicking all around him from his fellow Japanese drones, eyes squinched shut, red with concentration, facing his clock, willing it to stop or at least slow down, or something. He makes the second hand click back once! He did it! He turned back time


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Do you want me to turn this car around?

October 16th 2006 22:08
Here I sit, stuffing my face full of peanut butter M&M's, and sighing heavily over and over. If you were here, it would sound like *Siiigggghhh... munch, munch, munch SIIIIGGGGGHHH"

What has gotten me so down? So morose? So forlorn? I said something to my daughter today, that was so horrible, so frightening, so shocking, I sit here an hour later, sighing and munching, oh and blogging. The thing is, what I said to her wasn't horrible, frightening, or shocking to HER so much, but more so for me, as I couldn't believe I alllowed the sentence to be spewed out of my mouth. I can barely discuss it without wanting to hoark all over my keyboard. I need more M&M's for support. Maybe it's the M&M's that's giving me the hoarky feeling


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The Splintered Family.

October 16th 2006 00:55
The title of my entry actual comes from my dad. He said once he'd like to write a book called The Splintered Family, and then write about his family, or I guess I should say, our family. Our family is truly a splintered family. and never did it show more until yesterday.

My cousin got married yesterday. It was yesterday, I saw the splintered family in action


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Today has been a fun day with my children. I don't think I've ever laughed so much with them. Today, I got a reality check on how quickly my children are growing, and how smart they both are. Aislinn and I have giggled through most of this day. We also had a few serious discussions. One was quite involved with talk of antibodies, innoculations, breastfeeding, and evolution. It's just so awesome that I can TALK to her like this.

It wasn't to long ago, when the mere sight of my children made me angry. Seeing their faces,and hearing their voices, forever wanting something, needing things from me. I would hear "Mo-om!!" and I would cringe and roll my eyes. I would snap "WHAT?!?" never taking my eyes off the computer screen. They always needed drinks, and food, or they were hurt, or needed help. I felt I was drowning and they were the water clogging my nose and throat. I would be waiting at the door for my husband, and I would almost always say "I'm off for the night" and go and hole up on the computer or in my room. I would shut the door, and eat my dinner alone. Sometimes I would leave, and go and sit at my moms. I'd say airily "Oh I just needed to get away" and my mother would give me a look like "I know THAT feeling" Unfortunately, my need to get away was constant, insatiable


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What a way to start off a new blog. Writers block. Grrr. All of a sudden, nothing seems good enough to talk about. Normally, blogging comes so naturally to me. I can usually just sit down here, pound some shit out, laugh at myself and get on with life. I never rough draft, or make a list of ideas, I just write. Whatever is in me.

Now all of a sudden writing about the amazing cookie find I made this morning doesn't seem good enough. (Dad's oatmeal scotch cookies) Writing about my kids rolling around in the leaves in pure bliss, seems corny and vain. Writing about my hot night with my husband seems to tacky. Writing about my issues in general seems to personal


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