Ares' Pomegranate

The Discotheque...

2007-01-28T21:07:00.000-08:00

I love this tune for its unrestricted illustration of a typical Saturday night spent 'disco-hopping' in Rome. The cheap suits, the Ray Ban sunglasses, the accent, the sexual propositions... all so much more comical than seductive. Although I would have found it absolutely amusing to have this line delivered to me, the most I ever got was an uninvited escort into the ladies room, drink in hand and pants half-way to his ankles...

Words to Live By

2007-01-21T23:20:00.000-08:00

"Dating her is like going shopping for a microwave and coming home with a toaster oven. They'll both warm up your meal, but the toaster oven will take a bit longer."

-Ares
(Speaking about an acquaintance's mate)

Turning tricks

2007-01-18T02:52:00.000-08:00

A few nights ago, Eros woke up in the middle of the night, stood up in his crib and attempted to carry on a conversation with us. It would have been darn cute, had Ares and I been sleeping, but we were having sex. Explicit sex. Bend-me-like-a-pretzel sex.

As a result, we’re now turning in our hip urbanite lives for a more seemingly laid back life out in the suburbs. Yes, we’ve bought a house… our very own box of space. It feels like we’re turning in the sports car for a minivan. Well, actually, it would be more like a trailer, since it is more country than rock and roll out there. We’re elated, a bit sad, and scared shitless, but at least the kids will each get their own room, and we’ll have that much needed privacy –and space- for acrobatic sex.

House shopping is like giving head. It’s not only time consuming, but it’s also not something one is readily available to do. It starts on the slow side, with an offering from the giver, some shyness and reluctance from the taker, and it always ends with a seemingly unstoppable flow of some sort… cash or otherwise. Then it’s entirely up to the taker to keep it or toss it. End of story. Quite the pleasurable experience for the giver, sometimes though, things can get a bit prickly for the taker…kind of like sucking on a cactus.

Ares left what he called the “home selection process” to me. Generally, I would applaud such courageous behavior, and even reward it with some form of fellatio. However, given the enormity of the task at hand, I felt his attitude was more of a slap in the ass with a spiked paddle than a gesture of trust… and given my lack of taste for the more sadistic forms of sex, I was sure to pound his pocket in return.

First in line, a pre-foreclosure in one of Houston’s most coveted master planned communities. The sellers were broke, but quite friendly considering I was there to try to cash in on their misfortune. Secretly, I gagged at the thought of my children becoming part of that ever-increasing group of kids who expects a Sweet 16 birthday party, Lexus and Rolex watch included. But, the property was new and priced way under market value. My teeth were dripping with blood just thinking about flipping the sucker. We flexed our guns, our pockets cringed… and the house went to someone else. The damned pricks!

Then a more mature house reared its ugly head onto the market. A wide angle mirror on the wall would have made this palatial mess the next rocking Casbah. Then, there was the ‘you’re-fucked-if-you-break-your-leg-house’, a two-story maze with an entry half-way between the first and second floors, an upstairs kitchen and a love lounge downstairs. Next was a colonial/barn revival, a plethora of ugliness more suitable for murderers and gun totting confederate neo-Nazis, than a family of four. After twelve houses or so, I felt like a whore turning tricks for crack, settling for whatever came my way… wanting to put offers anywhere.

Tired and worn out, I took a break. Then, my friend Zelda called with an online link to a new listing. Not knowing what to expect, since browsing through online pictures of houses is much like browsing through the personals- the nicer their resume, the more grotesque the candidate- I dragged Ares by his nut sack to come see this one with me. An oldie but goody, in a fantastic neighborhood, with an exemplary school, this one was THE one. It took some giving and taking, but we’ll close in just a few short weeks. I even got the seller to throw in his new pool table to seal the deal.

Now, Ares gets to dust the felt!

Happy New Year!

2007-01-02T21:14:00.000-08:00

Image provided by Wikipedia.com

After a night of debauchery that included:

Drinking martinis and downing shots – of every kind.
Flapping tits everywhere.
Grabbing ass –both male and female.
Polishing tonsils at midnight.
Laughing at the bitter love child of Danny DeVito and Meatloaf, and whose dick was about 6 inches short of his own ass.
Going to a seedy strip club, puffing Macanudos dipped in Frangelico, and shoving dollar bills down a stripper’s panties.
Getting hit on at the strip club by a Bruce Lee look-alike.
Stumbling into the car at 3am -10 to an SUV- in a long dress and 4” heels.
Trying not to vomit in my friend’s new car on the way back.
Chasing pancakes with beer while Bulgarian porn played in the background.

I now sit here with a morning episode of the alcohol blues. Regardless, I am feeling up to par to unload the final bag of garbage left behind by 2006. Every year I look back, put in perspective the lessons learned, and bid farewell to people and situations that have brought about nothing but negativity to my life. Today, with one final blow -unfortunately only in the figurative sense- I say "FUCK OFF" to two of the world's finest bitches. So, here it goes:

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

To the overly large Herpes Whore and her even lardier Carpet Munching Wart Sucking Lesbian Lover: neither one of you trailer park bitches even remotely resembles a supermodel, so please stop pretending, it only gets more and more embarrassing the older you get. Much like the pimples on the ass of the world, you are both absolutely repulsive. I have yet to come across a single human being who accepts either one of you as part of our species. Intelligence escapes you both. In fact, there is more going in an 80-year-old man's pants at a Willie Nelson concert, than there is in both your brains combined. May 2007 bring you both the courage to put on your big girl panties –and quite huge they are- and prove yourselves worthy of the air you breathe. You know, it must suck ass to be married to a complete and utter idiot who has to ask his wife for permission to borrow his balls every day. But -really- does that grant you free license to offload your insecurities on everyone? I hope your doctor prescribes a nice cocktail of Valtrex and Prozac for you, before you kill someone for thinking you're an idiot. It must have proven quite excruciating to see how the man you were planning on leaching off of financially, committed to a complete stranger in less time than it took for him to pack your dirty ass up and kick you out of his life. Keep hating if that makes your day, you just continue to hurt yourself –and only yourself. I am done with both of you spineless people, because it’s obviously not enough that you take to hating your miserable selves, apparently hating others bestows upon you a true sense of self and purpose in life. Cheers to you fuckers!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

And now moving on...........

HAPPY NEW FREAKIN’ YEAR OF THE PIG – 2007!!!!!

Third Year's a Charm

2006-12-05T22:58:00.000-08:00

Days were emotionally draining back then; nights were exhausting. As time elapsed in bundles of nothing, fatigue crippled my mind. My skin crawled with disdain for what I once loved. I was a wreck. There was no turning back: bags were packed, boxes were sealed, finances were straightened out, and goodbyes were left at the door. Not even years of familiarity could bridge the abysmal gap that those same years created between us. The truth is that I knew there would be a period to our eternity. In fact, we both knew forever was just a figure of speech. The pain seemed endless, nonetheless, and we were both to blame for it.

Back then, continuing with life was more than a chore, it was a necessity. There was no shoulder to cry on, no one to hold on to through the pain, no speeches about moving on, not enough of anything to bring back what was gone. The absurdity of it all overcame me and I could not bear the weight of judgment, especially from those whose lives were plagued by the same irrational premise. I was lost, faithless, and alone. I never knew the true meaning of resilient until then, and the thought of being such was completely unfamiliar to me.

I met Ares on December 9, 2003. It was a particularly chilly December night, the kind that freezes bones and carves painful grins on bloody lips. Motivated by nothing other than sheer fascination over a conversation with this stranger on the computer the night before, and arguing against this sudden urge to forgo my curiosity, I fought a battle of wills: mind vs. emotion, with the first in absentia. The door opened and life changed forever. In an instant, words were weightless, thoughts meaningless, and smiles inevitable. A single yellow rose in his hand, his eyes piercing my very soul, my name falling softly from his lips, my past swept away. I fell in love for the very first time that night… and every day since.

Happy three years, my darling Ares… and yes, another 80 years by your side would be the biggest blessing in my life.

Dwelling on a dwelling

2006-11-13T23:31:00.000-08:00

Typical suburban home (right)

Le Corbusier's Villa Savoye (left)

Ares: “We need a house.”
Me: “I don’t want a house.”
Ares: “Why?”
Me: “Looking for a house is depressing. I refuse to spend my time sifting through the meaningless piles of drywall, stucco, and shingles bonded together thoughtlessly, to try to find the one dwelling that successfully marries practicality with aesthetics. I refuse to admit ownership of something I don't like”
Ares: (Confused) “What?!”
Me: “There’s just nothing out there that I like.”
Ares: “Want to look at new construction? We can always build one.”
Me: “No… unless you’re growing money in the patio.”

That conversation lead me to this argument: is good design reserved only for an elite group with keen eyes and deep pockets? You know the type, the ones whose black Barcelona chairs and Corbusier table welcome you to their Rietveld-inspired home. A Tolomeo lamp hovering over a Noguchi, a Pollock hanging alongside a Kandinsky, while a Neo-classical composer takes a stab at Mozart on the Bang & Olufsen. There’s meaning in every piece, a thought process that solidified from abstract to reality. No need for ornamentation, just the obvious representation of an idea; a less is more kind of approach.

The notion that those with buying power can achieve more with their currency is not new. For years, those of us who lack such financial muscle have been subjected to the grotesque monsters concocted by the minds of developers and builders who have their own economic hunger to feed. Remember Levittown? If you’re not convinced, then please take a drive to suburban Houston –or really, anywhere else in suburban America- and see what $200k buys you: a box, piled among a sea of other colossal boxes, in neighborhoods ruled by dictatorships under the aliases of ‘Homeowners Association’. The formula is always the same: a two-car garage right smack in front of the house, a dead tree planted right in the middle of the front lawn, a concrete path leading to the leaded-glass front door, manicured patches of grass and soil bearing the sign ‘Lawn-of-the-month’. You’ll get walls covered in flowers, floors that look like wood and feel like plastic, plantation shutters that don’t shut, arches, cubby-holes and other left-over spaces labeled ‘computer desk area’, beige carpet, molding, chair rails, and brass lighting fixtures -right out of a Home Depot catalog- burning 15 bulbs at a time. It’s a scene that will repeat itself just 50 feet down the road: brick, mortar and siding clumped carelessly, implanted on patches of land, hundreds to an acre.

What won’t your well-earned money get you? Forethought, quality, individuality…a unique world that enhances your everyday living experience. Nowhere has the time been taken to create a dialogue between site and building, to eliminate clutter, to bring forth that which enriches our living experience, not just ornament it. Why? Because time is money for those who exercise the right to decide the direction in which our built environment will derail. Whatever happened to Le Corbusier’s discourses on the house as a machine for living? What about Phillip Johnson and his minimalist and functional Glass House? Where is Frank Ghery and his theories on the use of ordinary (read: inexpensive) materials to create beautiful (read: comfortable) spaces for living? Where in suburban America? Nowhere! It’s cookie-cutter at its best. Hence the thought persists, is the question here really about money, or are we just plain lazy? Who then, will prevent new neighborhoods from becoming virtual Candy Lands?

Definitely not these people!

The Apple and the Tree

2006-11-02T19:51:00.000-08:00

They say the apple never falls too far from the tree....

The picture on the right was taken in July of this year. This is my darling Eros, covered in cake while celebrating his very first birthday.

The picture on the left was taken in June of 1976. That's me, covered in cake while celebrating my first birthday. Is it just me, or did that little apple fall right at the base of the tree?

Of Elephants and Asses

2006-11-01T17:25:00.000-08:00

I’m so sick of politics. Typically, I refrain from discussing politics in any forum, preferring instead to center conversations on other more intellectually arousing topics than to argue over whose political agenda will redeem the country from its burgeoning problems. However, these days, the political overload is driving me bonkers. It's everywhere. Everyday it’s ad after ad after pointless ad of self-righteous idiots negotiating with TV viewers over that little mark on the ballot. The TV glares with politicians in fancy clothes, straining to smile and displaying themselves as the living embodiment of good will as they shake hands in front of the cameras with the plebes whose pleas they will later ignore. I wonder how many of them turn to their advisers and beg for the hand sanitizer as they exit their rallies in their Benzes. It's the same recipe every election year, politician after politician after slimy politician, promising progress they cannot deliver and stroking the public's G-spot with ideas of a better tomorrow that never comes. People rally, yelling in a semi-orgasmic state for someone who will later flip them over and ram it up their ass. It’s the same old shit: more funding for schools, less crime, tax cuts, border patrol, blah, blah, blah.

To make matters worse, the war in Iraq has become the very core of every politician's agenda. For those who know how to dance with the Devil, their point of view comes across clearly, in an almost legitimate fashion. However, for some, the repercusions of their dealings are far beyond their scope of comprehension. This was the case with Senator John Kerry, who decided to unveil his arrogance to the planet with a degrading “joke” about our men in Iraq. As Kerry crashed and burned, Democrats gasped in horror and Republicans rejoiced. Then came the apologies for the blatantly moronic comment, dismissed as a "joke" that was taken out of context, of course. I would have been a bit impressed had he owned up to his faux pas, but he chose, instead, to pass judgement on other people's interpretations. Obviously, someone who can't play the game. Kerry, ad lib is entirely not your forte, nor any politicians’ for that matter. Keep to the script. Excusing yourself with the same arrogance as that employed to make your comment is not enough. Being a veteran does not bestow upon you the liberty to open your mouth and show us the clutter of shit in your head. Now take your sorry excuse of a self and go sulk in your soiled Democratic pants. Idiot!

And while I'm in the bashing mood: I am more than delighted that George Bush's term is almost up. It's still a wonder to me that he was given a second chance to fuck us up even further. But then again, and especially now that Mr. Kerry has shown us how sharp his claws are, I have to admit it was slim pickins for the American public. Time after time, speech after boring speech, I have taken the time to listen to the man, attempting to understand what exactly it is that he has to offer to the people whose votes he stole. He's an abyss, a stuttering void. There is no substance in his voice, no real emotion in his eyes, and that conniving little smirk speaks of a manipulative individual whose real intentions hide behind a public face. The guy’s a twat! For once Bush, strap on your cojones and clean up the mess you’ve created both at home and half-way across the globe. Show us your real agenda, show us the core of your ideologies, show us that you care. Redeem us of the almost eight years of penance we've had to endure under your cuasi-leadership. I'm tired of showing the planet that an idiot like you can be president.

Beer Guts No More!

2006-10-09T21:46:00.000-07:00

Ok, this caught my attention. Any crap with the following caption under the picture of a shirtless Matthew McConaughey is worth reading (if only to further my already excessive procrastination while providing some visual stimulation):

"Matthew McConaughey's chiseled, hairless bod has some guys hitting the gym and the waxing clinic.”

Yeah, because the alternative boob job, liposuction, Brazilian lift, Botox lip injections, blonde highlights, tight leather corsets, and 4" heels that lead to certified vixen status are just so much more bearable than an afternoon at the gym and a wax job.

God forbid that they get a little insecure and do *SOMETHING* about it!

Making Deals With the Devil

2006-10-03T18:40:00.002-07:00

It's funny how business deals are made and broken these days. For some time now, one of our clients has been threatening to discontinue using our services. They're a fairly big client, so it should have made us shit our pants, except that we have been quite disappointed in the way this particular company deals in business. I swear, sometimes I think they will sink in a glass of water. We have been ready for this for a while, so really, I won't be too sad to see them go. If anything, it will give us more time to focus on our current clients and to invest in growing our company (I finally get an assistant-- woohoo!!!) as we had been planning to do for the last year.

The issue at hand is money... of course. We have specialized services that they need, but are reluctatn to pay for. We have been proven tried and true time and again, so it's not like they're going into business with us blindfolded. It is evident now that they are trying to get their own staff to become versed in the services that we have been providing through them to third parties. An absolutely great plan for them to put in place, as it would dissolve their need to hire outside consultants to save their asses every time something goes haywire, but something that takes time, patience, skill and lots, and lots, and lots of experience... and, for the sake of this forum, let's say that I don't think they have the resources to achieve this succesfully. I wouldn't be upset at the situation at all if it was being handled professionally and with integrity, after all they are obviously looking to better their bottom line, so I don't blame them for wanting to scale back. However, there are ways of doing things... and then there are *WAYS* of doing things, and today someone over at their office obviously had a brain fart and decided to do things this way:

Hey Ares:

I have a new opportunity for you... Can you provide me with your proposal template, you can leave the pricing blank? I just need the detailed specifics...You can leave your company info off so I can just plug (his company) logo.

What the fuck??!!! Do we have SUCKER tatooed on our foreheads. So let me get this straight: you are selling a product you're not fully versed in to a third party, looking for the specs for said product from our proposal to try to train yourself -and your staff- in said product and leave us out of the running? Hmmmmm... isn't that like going to a bakery and asking the pastry chef for the recipe for his best selling cake, so you can make it at home? To make matters worse, they are now calling with specific questions while at the job site! Sorry, but we're not going to troubleshoot your ass and then take the legal liability. I have no words to describe just how I feel towards these people... 'slimy' I guess would be a good place to start.

I Have...

2006-10-03T13:59:00.000-07:00

The things in bold are the things I’ve done! Copy it and publish your list. Thanks Wendi...

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink *Had to celebrate my divorce!
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain *Not a big mountain... more like a hill....
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you’ and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game (and survived the crush afterwards)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa *I've been to it, just not in it... they won't allow people in it anymore, it's too unstable.
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars *At the beach... don't remember if they were stars or mosquitoes.
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment *Jury duty... I was escorted out.
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster *Great American Scream Machine (shudder)
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day *Try for 6 months while living in Italy!
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk *Too many times...
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country *Italians... so horny... so gorgeous!
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip *Rome to Coppenhagen in 3 days!
48. Gone rock climbing *Does climbing a fake rock count?
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them *Isn't that what people do at Benihana's?
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Posed nude in front of strangers
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud *It was more like sand... wet sand... creep up your shorts and itch sand...
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie *Not in a major motion picture... or a publicly screened one... LOL!
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice *Overrated.. then again, I was with my boring ex...
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
89. Had a one night stand *My favorite mistake!
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking *And actually pointed AT THEM while singing.....
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Petted a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone *And found out 2 weeks after the fact!
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet **What?! Are you crazy?!!
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours *No, but I was awake for 52 hours straight!
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Petted a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts *with help from my husband
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life

Pussies, Dicks, Money, Las Vegas...Former Lesbians?

2006-09-21T03:22:00.000-07:00

I’m utterly confused… someone PUHLEASE explain this to me!

I received a text message yesterday from my friend, Tina. She’s now engaged. Normally, I would be incredibly happy and giddy about the whole thing, especially since I have been invited to help in the wedding planning and to be part of the wedding party… but I’m SO not!

See, as of mid June of this year, Tina was married. Even though her *marriage* was more of a symbolic commitment than a legal one, it was nonetheless a four-year-long union, blessed by a celebrant (no religious affiliation), and addressed by all as a marriage.

Tina was dumped in late June by her partner, Tara

Now, I wouldn’t have cared if Tina had proceeded to become the most notorious lesbian in all of Montrose. In fact, I would have egged her on and probably attended a few parties or festivals with her… after all, she is my friend, and she had been tied down for quite some time, so that kind of release would have been, if not expected, completely acceptable. But, she never did. In fact, it’s safe to say that my lesbian friend turned heterosexual.

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Where was I when lesbians and homos started jumping fences and joining the other team? I mean, how do you wake up one day and decide: “You know, today, I feel like having eggs for breakfast instead of cereal…and sucking some dick instead of going muff diving.” WTF??? How do you do that? I’m so confused…

To make matters worse, Tina has become a completely different person, and unfortunately, not for the better. She has gone from fun and interesting to gold digger maximus in less time than it takes to utter ‘Louis Vuitton’… and I wonder if all this is the result of something that has been lurking deep within her: her constant yearning for a baby and her illusion that money is the highway to happiness.

Tina met a man online in mid July. Josh was, supposedly, a financier… and that’s all I know about him because that’s all she ever talked about: “Josh has so much money. Josh is so successful. Josh is so rich. I’m going to marry Josh… blah, blah, blah.” And I quote the blah, blah, blah because this is all I heard two minutes into our conversation, so it might as well have been what was coming out of her mouth. After Josh wised up and dumped her, she went online in late July and picked up Dwenn. Then there were the perpetual games with her ex of who is doing better than who, and the endless phone calls to me relating every minute detail of her over-analyzed dramas of Josh vs. Dwenn. She finally went with Dwenn.

After much deliberation, Ares and I finally agreed to meet them for dinner. Here was this balding, twitchy, 36-year-old man, running on plutonium, and clinging onto Tina as if she was about to run away. Dinner was painful… really painful…when is it ever appetizing to watch a balding man suck on some girl's face over a platter of mussels? I really don’t recall much, since I spent most of my time fantasizing about what would be more effective in getting me out of this situation: offing myself by hanging myself from the table, or drowning myself in the toilet, or stabbing myself with the butter knife, or running into the glass door. I really don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to go get coffee after dinner, but I pulled Ares aside and threatened divorce if he didn’t get us out of there quickly!

They want to get together again… and I’m running out of excuses. The last two times she was here, Ares noted that she had only five topics of conversation, all about her, of course:

1. Retirement: “Dwenn has so much money. He has put away so much money for retirement, WE are set for life.”

2. House: “I cannot wait to move into OUR house (never mind that it’s his house). Did you know it has 5 bedrooms, oak floors, granite countertops, a swimming pool, blah, blah, blah….”

3. Car: “I’m going to get a BMW 325i. But, Ares, my 325 is so much better than your car. I cannot wait to get my BMW! Lyllia, why don’t you buy my piece of crap Saturn so that I can get my BMW?”

4. Engagement Ring: “Dwenn has TWO two carat diamonds in a bank deposit safe just for me. They are blah, blah, blah… and appraised at $11,000 four years ago!”

5. Children: “I cannot wait to have a baby. I want a baby. I cannot wait. We’re trying. Blah, blah, blah…”

Yet, not once have I EVER heard her say: “Dwenn, he’s such an angel, or he’s so loving and caring, or he makes me feel incredible, or I love him so much, or he’s wonderful, or I can’t live without him, or I cannot imagine my life without him, etc, etc, etc. We’ve come to the conclusion that Tina is just looking for a Sugar Daddy… someone to father her child and yield a comfortable life for her. She’s a leach! Don’t get me wrong… I WANT them to be happy, and I hope to God that they prove us darn wrong! But I just don’t see how you can build anything lasting when the basis for you relationship is something as superficial as money. I’m sure that, if Dwenn didn’t have as much, she wouldn’t have even given him the time of day.

Anyway, I am now expected to go buy a $250 dress, fly to Las Vegas for a bachelorette party, and partake in the wedding planning. Impossible feat considering that I can’t even fathom being around her. I cannot understand her change of heart regarding her sexuality, neither do I agree with her new attitude, nor do I want to be associated with anyone that superficial… yet, I don’t want to break her heart. I know she’s counting on me to be her Matron of Honor and I feel that I owe that to her. Should I just suck it up and do it? Should I tell her the truth? Should I lie? Don't know what to do....

My Angels

2006-09-11T20:20:00.000-07:00

My children are my life... they are the reson for my existence. I adore them... I kiss them constantly... can't hug them tight enough... love to laugh with them... and cannot believe just how blessed I am to be in their presence. They are my strength, the reason why my days have meaning. To both of you -Eros and Harmonia- I say:

Mama will ALWAYS be here for you... to love you and shelter you ... FOREVER!

I'm Feeling Lucky Today

2006-09-11T12:40:00.000-07:00

I AM LUCKY! I foiled someone's attempt to break into our apartment this morning while both my children and myself were at home. What is happening, Houston? What's with all this crime? We work hard to be able to live in one of the nicest (read: safest) parts of town...what's up?

For those of you who want to know, this is how it went down:

Ares left this morning to visit clients. As usual, after he left, I locked the door: lock, bolt, pass-thru chain, etc. I was in the kitchen on the phone when I heard the lock come undone. I thought Ares was back, so I started walking towards the door. I got another call, it was Ares. Thinking he was calling from outside our door (since he couldn't come in), I took a look through the peep hole... but I saw no one. Thinking he stepped away from the door to get better phone reception, I opened the locks, leaving only the pas-thru chain. I took a look outside... but no one was there. I picked up his call. He was still with his client... AT THEIR OFFICE! I called the apartment's management office and not a single one of their maintenance people had signed out our key out today. My blood ran cold...

The strangest thing about this incident was that, JUST LAST NIGHT, Ares and I were talking about how he was robbed twice before while living in other apartments. It left him deeply shaken. Years later, it still bothers him. This is the reason why we have additional locks on all our windows, on our sliding glass door and on our front door. Not just one, but many. We are having a monitored alarm system installed this afternoon.

This just underlines my need to forgo my fear of guns and follow Ares' lead to get one. I absolutely HATE - wait, no, I LOATHE- having a gun around. Growing up, my dad carried a .38 caliber -a 'Saturday Night Special'- which he still has today. Back then, I couldn't even stand to see its handle as it peeked out from under the waist of his pants. Just knowing that we had a weapon in the house whose sole purpose was to hurt or kill always hit me to the core. I could NEVER, purposefully, hurt anyone- EVER.

Today, this belief was badly shaken as I stood at the door, in angst, with Eros at my feet. I now WANT a gun. I want to be prepared should ahything like this ever happen again... I will be waiting... smiling... pointing the gun at the asshole who thinks- even once- that he can intrude upon my family and get away with it. Today, I learned that I cannot -ever- afford the luxury to hesitate -not for an instant- to plug someone with a bullet should they even attempt to get near my children. Perhaps next time, I won't be the lucky one that didn't get robbed. The lucky one will be the asshole who survived his attempted roberry.

You're Not Fully Clean Unless...

2006-08-26T17:34:00.001-07:00

I have no recollection of how the topic came about but, a few days ago, Ares and I were talking about some of the incredibly nasty habits we had to tolerate from some of the people in our past. While the conversation was short due to the revoltingly offensive subject matter, its shock value left such a lingering impression on us both, we nearly scrubbed our skin off in the shower that night.

So, in honor of those left behind in favor of greener- and much, much cleaner- pastures, here’s a list of suggestions to make yourselves more sanitary -and appealing- if only for the benefit of those around you:

Scrub your feet when you shower… no, the run-off won’t clean the toe jam you’ve accumulated for 20-something years.
Don’t rub the soap on your skin… that just makes the soap dirty.
Wash your bras before you wear them again. Don’t air them out, or try to sniff the funk out of them… or even try to convince yourself that the yellow matches your new shirt.
Don’t be cheap. It’s too late to see the doctor once your breakouts are oozing volcanic lava… and don’t scrimp on the ply, your ass will appreciate a little lovin’ from time to time.
Wash your hair… that ‘glossy sheen’ is not synonymous for healthy.
The underside of your National Geographic titties stinks…lift and wash, lift and wash.
They’re panty hose. They were in your crotch. Nothing with the word ‘panty’ should ever be taken out of the dirty pile and smelled for ‘re-wearability’… not even if the funk gets you high or horny.
Clean yourself before you even suggest the idea of oral sex… or any sex… smoked ham is only good at holiday parties.
On that note, trim… no one needs to get lost in that jungle trying to find the 'treasure'… and unless your name is Johnson and Johnson, we’ll be shopping for floss elsewhere.
Shower frequently…your ass stinks before and after work.
Wash your lounge robe before the streak mark is permanent.
Smegma is neither sexy nor cool –even if it’s a fetish and even if it reminds you of fancy cheese.
Eating sushi does not constitute you as a cultured person much in the same way that wearing cheap, ugly clothes does not make you fashionable. Read that manual again.
Don’t wait to be told that you have snow-flake-sized chunks coming out of your ears and landing on your shoulders to clean the suckers.
Wipe your nose… and don’t call the stray ones ‘kamikazes’…it’s not cute at all. Blow until you bleed if you have to.
The round yellow stain on your pillow cover wasn’t the cat’s fault, the dog, or the hard Houston water, it was your greasy head.
Take a bath after sex… you know you stink, you know you’re sticky.
Don’t bother with cologne or perfume if you haven’t showered. That's like spraying freshener in an elevator after you fart. Everyone can still smell the funk... and everyone knows it came from you.
Sweaty hands are as sexy as a woman’s hairy armpits.
Everyone can see your skin is oily… the glazed doughnut sheen blinds us all!

The Best Gift

2006-08-19T16:03:00.000-07:00

"My, angel... sometimes neurotic, always lovable... and just perfect... I adore you!"

...and with those few words, Ares made my day...

I love you, my gorgeous Ares, and yes I WILL marry you again... today, tomorrow and evey single day thereafter.

Things That Make You Go Hmmmmm

2006-08-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

Here's a litle something I received from a friend last week:

1. Go to www.Google.com
2. Run a search for 'miserable failure'
3. Check out the result!

How *absolutely* appropriate... I am still laughing!!! :)

Keeping Up With The Little Man

2006-08-01T20:41:00.000-07:00

Does anyone out there have any ideas as to activities that I can do with my 13-month-old, who’s at home all day… and within a very limited space? I have tried coloring, but he gets more crayon in his mouth than he does on the paper. I tried playing hide and seek, but he follows me everywhere and clings to my leg like a little monkey, so I really can’t hide from him. I tried to teach him about colors and shapes, but he takes the book from me, pretends to read it… and proceeds to eat it. He does the same with story books. We have tried singing and dancing, learning tunes, and following Elmo and Barney, but he’s done with that in 5 minutes. We tried playing with trucks, but he gets bored after 2 seconds. We tried playing with puppets, but he just wants to take them from me. He does the same with stuffed animals. He’s a really smart little man (he tried brushing his own teeth today- with the right up-down motion, too!!), so it’s getting quite challenging. Also, we can't really leave the house for too long, since he has a two-month-old sister... so any outdoor activities -especially in this heat- are restricted to about 30 minutes or so (because that's as long as it's humanly possible for me to deal with both of them at the same time in public!).

Any ideas would be great!!!!

Today on 'Richelle 77031'

2006-08-01T20:16:00.000-07:00

We found out that Richelle has already taken the time to sound off on me to everyone who will give her the time of day. What she doesn't understand is just how incredibly annoying all this is -to everyone! After this particular episode, I have been approached by many of our mutual acquaintances and told just how tired they are of her continuous attempts to be vicious and brutal to others. Many of them have been victimized by her in the past and put through her *people grinder*, so they speak from the heart. In fact, I have had to change the subject of Richelle on a few ocassions out of plain embarrassment for her. Now, for me this is not about taking sides- I would NEVER put the people I love in that kind of pickle- but I know she tallies her life's worth on what others think about her... so -for her- this is a way to test other people's loyalties. What we call in high school a 'Popularity contest'. Soooooo sad!!!!

Honestly, I wish I had the kind of time that she obviously has... although -technically- she should be working. I would love to be able to volunteer with Child Advocates, or go to the homeless shelter and cook some meals. I would just LOVE to do volunteer work with cancer patients in the hospital's art program... hell, I would love the time to just breathe a little. Seriously. There's just so much hatred and violence in this world already, why bring it into your life? Again, soooo very sad!!!!

Anyway, and to finish the story off, I got a call from a lawyer today. A very nice young man who was entertained –yet concerned- by the severity of the wrath of Richelle over something so childish. Without my need to go into details with him, I sensed he was genuinely concerned for our safety. I couldn’t help but feel a bit ridiculous and think that I was wasting his time. All things aside, I think he picked up the anxiety in my voice so he demanded that I be on the lookout for certain verbage in any additional emails from Richelle, or any in further communication she might attempt, including phone calls. I am to call the sheriff’s department the moment such communication arrives to file a restraining order.

I think this makes for the season finale of ‘Richelle 77031’……

The Bitch Is Back!

2006-07-31T22:26:00.000-07:00

Yes, we were bombarded again today with ignorant rants from Richelle. I tried to block her emails, but somehow they seem to keep getting through (it’s Hotmail, what can I say?). This time she attempted to intimidate us with a threat to sue. For what, you may ask? For **FREEEDOM OF SPEECH** that’s what! Apparently, she found my blog and decided that the ‘nome de plume’ I selected for her was just not acceptable. Note to Richelle: There are thousands of PUBLICATIONS that travel the word over slandering the President of the U.S. of A… (among other people), who in the entire universe is going to care about a little blog that only a few people hit telling about the maliciousness and hatred of a little ugly beast named Richelle???? Get over yourself already!

Honestly, I cannot fathom ANYBODY ever having this much time in their hands strictly for the use of cruelty, unkindness, malice, viciousness, malevolence, spitefulness and hatred. But, as I said before, this is her M.O. I wonder if her boss knows exactly how Richelle is spending her time at the office these days. I wonder how he/she will react when he/she receives the endless pages –novels, really- of insults spearheaded our way -in the middle of the work day- from Richelle’s company email address. Hmmm…..

Anyway, today Ares took it upon himself to respond to her. I knew he wanted to tell her so much, but I held him back. It’s just not that important to me…really. The fact that Richelle is pregnant is something that I won’t play with. The health of her unborn child matters to me, even if it doesn’t to her. What I failed to understand is that this was a person my husband trusted and loved while at UST. So it was extremely hurtful and shocking for him when she put us through her *people grinder*. The last three messages I received, I deleted. And the previous ones, I replied only with a header asking her to: “STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY”. Given that she could not get any more drama out of me, and the fact that it is documented that I asked her to back the hell off 3 times, she began to email Ares.

My Ares… he is always so diplomatic and so very courteous in his dealings with people, so today it was very surreal to see him unravel. He was pissed, to put it mildly. He suggested she –indeed- contacts a lawyer and shows him/her the countless messages, as he would “love” to see him/her laugh in her face at her ridiculousness (is that a word?)! Anyway, Ares went on to let her know that she doesn’t have “the intellect, funds or the ability” to get into a legal battle with us. See, what Richelle doesn’t know is that, given our line of work, we have taken the precautionary measures necessary to deal with individuals like her, backing ourselves up with a wide array of resources… this is a battle she doesn’t want to fight.

Today, I called the police and was redirected to the pertaining department. I want to see if the situation merits filing a restraining order. They were out for the day. I know it’s getting serious, but I have to protect my family. From what she has demonstrated, Richelle is long overdue for a little one-to-one couch visit with a psychiatrist … I do not deal with looneys and I refuse to put my family in the line of her fire. I left a message. Hopefully, they will call me back tomorrow. If it merits, I’m going through with it. I hope this will end soon, but somethign tells me that she will continue to berate ridiculous slander our way.

GOSH, I MISS HIGH SCHOOL!!!!!

Got Some Time To Spare????

2006-07-31T00:03:00.000-07:00

I need time to do… EVERYTHING! Seriously, I need like 72-hour days from now until next year. I am sitting here, stressed about the amount of work I have to get done before I go to bed tonight… the sad part is that it’s 2:02 am!!!! **Why are you awake and trying to open my closet door?**

I have to work on our accounting, send out emails to get our business cards priced- again, set up meetings with our bookkeeper, our financial planner (got to go over the IRA paperwork he sent me- a book all in its own), and two clients this week **Little man, get out from under the bed**… which means that I will have to arrange –at some point tomorrow- for Ares’ mom to come and take care of the kids.**Stop pulling on Lenni's (the cat) tail!** I hate having to ask her to baby sit. I know she’s their grandmother and all, but her bulb is just a little too dim for my peace of mind.

I need to design two web sites, **Hey!! Don’t pull on the blinds!** update the database we’re running for a local client, develop a new time sheet, keep working on our employee handbook, do more research about GSA work, finish reading that book on how to land the big government contracts. **Little man, stop taking the CD’s out of the CD tower and slamming them against the floor!!!** I have to prepare proposals for a couple of new clients/jobs, rsvp for two networking events next week and one this week. **Stop it, little one, stop taking the papers off my desk!!** Got to send those invoices to my client... why can't you figure out that 2 + 2= 4??? You owe me $400 ... and you have it in black and white? Can't you read?? They're overdue again- they have incurred late charges which I refuse to write off... they were forewarned... plus that's an accounting nightmare in its own right.

I need to make phone calls… lots of them, so many, that's a full-time job in itself… why is my insurance not covering my son’s medical expenses of January when I paid the darn thing in full through June?! Darn people… for the millionth freakin' time… we paid, you cashed our check, enter our information in your darn database!!! It's not rocket science! **You’re testing my patience, little man, do that again and it’s time-out for you!!** I need to file documents, many documents… as in I’m swimming in paper… darn tree killers who keep faxing me crap! **STOP yelling, you’re going to wake up your sister!** Bills… bills need to get paid, rent is due tomorrow –or is it Tuesday? What day is it today, anyway? July has 31 days, right? Is it July? I hate paying rent, but we have no time to go house shopping right now.... this place is just so small, though, got to make the time... got to make the time. **Hey, get ouf of there!** Groceries need to be bought, got to make a list, got to make a list, got to make a list... hope I don't forget anything. Note to self: need laundry detergent. I need to go to the post office, where the hell are my 2 packages? **I told you to stop yelling!** Maybe tomorrow morning, I'll squeeze in a little gym time.

I’m almost out of formula… CRAAAAP! Two more bottles and I'm out. Wait...no... I have ready-to-pour in the cupboard... and some more in the baby bag. Got to love the surplus! Can't forget my grocery coupons tomorrow. I'm on a penny-pinching streak! I am finishing the 9^th load of laundry, out of detergent to finish the last two... can't believe that's only a week's worth of stuff, still have to unload the dishwasher – at least the dishes are done… for now. **No! Stop crawling under my desk and playing with the computer cables** I need to take a shower and wash my hair… how long has it been? Did I even bathe this morning? (smelling the 'pitts') NAS-T!! **Little man, quit banging on that!**

I need to send those pictures to my mom, she hasn’t seen her granddaughter in weeks and she's changed so much. Already got the guilt trip working on me. Crap, I forgot to pick up the clothes at the cleaners and now that the baby barfed on my comforter -twice- I have to remember to bring it in. Did I take out the trash today? ARGH!… I need to return some stuff to the store… where the hell did I put that receipt???? I thinkI leef the bag in Ares' car last week. ** Kid, for the nth time, stop banging that toy against the glass!!** I have to call Jen to get the kids’ pictures taken, need to spend more time with the kids… Gosh, I’m such a bad mom… haven’t opened a book for the little man since Thursday night!!! **Get out of the closet, Kid!**

I need to finish that blanket for my friend’s baby, she's due soon, but I have to go buy more yarn first, that's another trip to the store with the two little ones... impossible task, I tell you! I need to take pictures of the little man’s old clothes to post on Ebay, and hopefully, sell them. ** I told you to get out from under my desk!** I want to put the money in his college fund. I need to **Hey! Do not eat those cables!! Darn it, Ares, I have told you about a gazillion times to take those cables off the plug!!!!** Where was I? Oh, I need to get cracking on the kids’ scrapbook… not one page done- for either one of them! Can’t believe the little man’s a year-old **Do not pull that off my desk!** I'm ashamed, I've had a year to do this and I've yet to start! Got to put together the Mommy and kids outing... Gosh, I need the time out even if it is with the rugrats! I think the first one will be in late September. It's too hot to have it now. Good... that will give me some more time to get stuff done in the interim... like research parks and put together a list of things to bring, mommies to invite, etc. Time... time... really, what is that??? **Ares, come get this kid before he drives me bonkers, please!!**

I’m dizzy **Why are you not in bed by now? Ares, what is the little man doing up? I don’t care if he cried for 20 minutes when you tried to put him to bed… he needed to stay in bed at 9pm!!!!** At least he’ll sleep in tomorrow morning, I hope, maybe then I can get some stuff done ... oh, yeah, the grocery store, the cleaners and the gym. Guess that's already laid out. Got to remember to set the alarm to 7am. What time does Kroger open at anyway? I’m so dizzy…did I even eat dinner today?

I am COMPLETELY overwhelmed (hands over face)... SHIT! There goes the princess *What is her problem now, Ares? I fed her 1 hour ago! Did she poop?**…. Geez, it’s not even Monday… wait –technically- we're 3 hours into Monday. It’s going to be a loooooooong week **Little man stop pulling on the cables! Why are you in the office? Ares!!! If you want me to get anything done, please take him!**…. I can’t do this anymore…

Taking Out the Trash

2006-07-27T23:46:00.000-07:00

If there’s one thing I have learned in the last few years is that most people can either adjust accordingly to the ever-changing process of life, succeeding in developing clear and concise relationships with their peers, while others become wedged in a time warp between high school and oblivion. With the exception of my ex-husband and a handful of acquaintances, most of the people I surround myself with these days are of the first, more level-headed kind. However, for some reason, Ares is plagued by baggage of the latter kind.

Yesterday, Ares received an extremely hateful and derogatory email from a person he had considered a close friend from his years at UST. We will call her ‘Richelle’. The email came out of nowhere and with the sole and malicious intention of creating a rift between us. The saddest part is that her email was preceded by a very thoughtful message from Ares, one filled with congratulatory thoughts about her pregnancy. Her email was long, obviously the work of someone with a lot of time in her hands and who has been harboring a grudge over a comment I purposefully targeted to her massive head at a party… almost two years ago. Something about her being a gossiper. Now, don’t get me wrong, I accept full responsibility for the comment I made, and I would do it again if I had to. But Richelle's message, the hatred in her words and her burning desire to crush others with abherations, was completely uncalled for.

You see, no effect is without a cause, and Richelle blatantly decided to take it upon herself to partake in gossiping about others just to make herself the center of the universe for 30 seconds. So, following her M.O, she let the entire world know about our pregnancy before we even had the chance to soak it in ourselves… and even after she had been asked not to share the news with anyone. By the time Ares and I were ready to make the announcement to our friends at the party, EVERYONE already knew, and THEY were coming up to US to ask if it was true. WE knew instantly it had been HER *work*… she was the only one there who had been told. It took all that I had to hold back my tears as I held back Ares from “ripping her head off” as he so delicately put it. Gossiping like she did might seem a minimal thing to most people, however, this wasn’t the first time we had been targeted by her. Richelle had done the same when Ares and I first met, but at the time, we chose to let it go to keep peace within what seemed a very close-knit group of people. This time, however, it was different. If you’ve ever been pregnant or been around a pregnant woman you know that, between the vomiting, the sleeplessness, and the aches and pains, some days, happiness only comes from witnessing the joy in a friend’s face as they share your good news. We felt betrayed and confused, stabbed-in-the-back, hurt… but most of all robbed. Robbed of the opportunity to tell everyone and see their reaction. It was decided at that very moment that Richelle would never be part of our lives… ever again. We did, however, post her name on invitations to social events (to make sure there was no chance that anyone else would invite her, obviously), but really, we made sure the *invitation* would NEVER come her way (fake email address, anyone?). We were no less than disgusted when Richelle and her husband showed up at Ares' birthday party last year – completely uninvited.

We have been bombarded with emails from her in the past two days… just pages and pages of psychotic rants about how much she despises me. Who the hell does that? Funny that every single insult that she has taken upon herself to direct my way, are traits I found in her from the start. I mean, where do you come off thinking that it is ok to rant disgusting things to your *friend*, who you proclaim time and time again to *love*, about their spouse and try to sugar coat it with “but I hope you’re happy”? What.The.Fuck?!

But, from what I understand, this is how Richelle operates, she loves you one day, but if you have the audacity to even say *hello* in the wrong tone of voice, you will receive a blow from the wrath of Richelle... regardless of who you are. She's done so to so many nice people I have come to know and love! She even did so to her sister, who was pregnant and having her baby shower just a short time prior to Richelle's wedding. She whined like a child because her sister would be getting all the attention, thus shifting the focus from what was the most important thing (to her, and only to her, obviously!): her wedding. She generates lies and makes comments to strike her ego, at the expense of others' feelings, even those who have managed to overlook her self-absorption and continued to offer her a friendship. She still believes that life is a popularity contest where the only thing that matters is quantity, not quality- at all levels. Ares distinctly remembers the first time she told him that he didn't deserve his success because he never graduated from college. She believed that since she HAD a degree, it was unfair that he would be in a better financial position than her. She made this quite clear to him -time and time again- at every opportunity she had. What.The.Fuck?! What kind of person are you to think that way? To not be happy for your friend's happiness and accomplishments?

But, anyway, back to this story. See, there’s an underlying issue to all of this prom-queen drama. Richelle is best friends with 'Rosa', one of Ares’ former girlfriends, who is quite a piece of work herself. The day I came into Ares’ life, was the day Rosa drafted the one goal in her life: to do anything possible to come between us. She was instantly shocked by the fact that –six months after their split- she was still looking for someone –anyone- who she could have a slobber-fest with in front of Ares, while he had found “the one”, had fallen madly in love, and had told the universe about it. Her ego took one ginormous hit when she slammed against the solid wall that is our relationship. She went as far as demanding that Ares make a choice between me and her. The outcome is self-explanatory. That was the day he buried their *friendship* and never looked back.

Now, I am a believer in giving people a second, or even a third chance, so I encouraged Ares- against his best judgment- to mingle with them at social events. Why? Because I believe that deep down there is kindness and gentleness in everyone. Rosa and Richelle are the only two people that have proven me completely wrong… but I rest at ease knowing that I gave them the opportunity to be human and they chose to be beasts. I have never met two people so genuinely committed to the creation and distribution of rage, insults, rudeness and hatred. Trust me, it hasn’t been easy to smile when I was angry, to chuckle when I wanted to cry, to hold back when I wanted to burst out in anger, but to know that I am at peace with my course of action is priceless. Why? Because I adore my Ares and the day I married him I fully accepted all of him, good and bad. I made the commitment full force, to be with him through it all, even if it meant putting up with his *garbage-truck-sized-baggage* at the expense of my feelings… and here I am, through thick and thin.

So, how does the story end? Well, I thanked Richelle –in a most sincere way- for letting us know where she stood because that lifted the weight off my shoulders in having to pretend whenever we crossed paths. She turned the tables on Ares for forwarding her emails to me. She also emailed him –and copied Rosa on it- to let him know that their friendship was over because he stood by me in justifying my response to her. Hello, idiot, he IS my husband!! Alas, it is finally good to confirm -clearly- where her loyalties have always been.

The emails kept coming. She kept provoking me, provoking Ares, pushing the issue, pushing my buttons, pushing, pushing... pushing... I held back for longer than I thought humanly possible. I deleted her emails, walked away from my desk, breathed in... breathed out... I tried so hard to be the better person, to show her that her rants didn't bother me. But, at some point I lost my composure, and when it came time to either shoot my computer or put her in her place, I chose the latter. I finally had to do it, I had to listen to my inner wrath and go for the low blow… I had to forgo any sense of adulthood, revert back to my days in the playground, and risk detention. See, despite what she thought about me, it didn’t really matter because I knew she spoke in anger and frustration over the fact that she has *creepy-crawlies* (I didn't quite say it like that, but for the sake of this blog, I will change my *wording* of such *thingy-majiggy*). Yes, I took it upon myself to remind her of that *itchy* little detail. I know, perhaps not the most eloquent remark, but one I knew was sure to hit the mark and get her off our backs. See, Richelle thinks she's perfect in every way known to man. She truly believes that every single one of her male acquaintances wants to date her or sleep with her (GROSS!!!). She absolutely cannot take any criticisms -from anyone- about her looks, especially her body. Her self-esteem is so low that, pinpointing anything that reminds her of her flaws just eats her up with anger. Yes, I went there. I just had to turn this damn bitch off! Apparently, it worked because she has backed off. Mission accomplished!

BTW: She claims her *little* problem was the *leftover* of a rape, but everyone who knows the story is well aware that –as usual- she was drunk to the point of passing out while on a date with an idiot. Excuse me, Richelle, but rape is a horrific and sad thing that tears a woman’s body and soul apart. I have been in the presence of victims of rape and molestation (recovering and in denial), known, worked, and developed relationships with them. I would not wish rape upon the darkest of an enemy. In my book, it is among the most heinous of crimes. Therefore, for you to go around undermining what it means to be raped, to play with it like it’s some game, to claim martyrdom just to get attention when you put yourself in a most precarious of situations for lack of better judgement… that is just beyond unacceptable, sad, sick, and it continues to sponsor the ignorance that most people have regarding the matter.

As it stands, I don’t hate her, in fact I feel nothing but the deepest pity for her. Really, I honestly do find the whole thing to be so sad! However, and despite her efforts to be the most hateful individual in the universe, I would have no qualms about helping her out of a really bad situation. Perhaps, mostly out of pity... or maybe that’s just my nature… maybe I’m an idiot… or maybe I’m just human. Whatever it is, I just won't bother with hatred against anyone.

The emails have stopped now… whew, just in time for graduation! I wonder what next year will bring….

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

2006-07-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

I went back to my dentist yesterday. I LOVE my dentist! He is really nice, funny, a gentleman with a southern drawl that makes me drool (even more than I should!)… damn it, he is one hot dude!! Not particularly my type -he is a little too much of a pretty boy for me- but I can still admire *Grade A* when I see it. I have to say that I do tend to favor the more masculine, broad-shouldered types, with the not so chiseled face and a few extra pounds. However, it doesn’t hurt to have any part of your body fondled by a hot guy- even if it’s just your mouth and even if it’s with a needle… and especially when he’s telling you he’s going to “juice you up a little bit more”!

While sitting at the chair, I realized that I have always had issues with pretty boys. They make me nervous and uneasy. I get sweaty and talkative. Not good… not good at all! Not one to be very popular with the boys when I was younger, I decided to drop 45 pounds and date anyone and everyone that came along. This was my attempt to get my very own ‘pretty boy’. I dated strippers, models, gym buffs, surfers, actors, cops, teachers, students, psychologists, waiters, musicians, scholars, architects, engineers, geeks, jocks, idiots, liars, sex addicts, alcoholics, divorced men, older men, and an occasional married guy here or there. I am sure some of them have come out of the closet, too.

In any case, I noticed that the only people I cared about were those that allowed for me to be the self-centered bitch that I wanted to be… and most of them –if not all- were not wrapped up in a pretty package. So, I decided to nix the pretty boys in favor of those a little bit more aesthetically challenged. Why? For one thing, they were so much more appreciative of having someone –anyone- to go out with on a Saturday night, most were true gentlemen who took life much more lightly and just wanted to have a good time, but most importantly, most were eager to make me happy. The best part? I never had to go head-to-head (yeah, literally!) with my dates on a looks contest. I never wanted to be that girl who everyone thought had gotten lucky to have a hot date. I wanted to be the hot girl who some average guy was very lucky to have. Call it the ‘rescue syndrome’ or just plain vanity.

Honestly, I truly wonder what my dentist’s wife looks like. It has to be difficult to be married to this ‘Adonis of the Teeth’. Then again, she might just be gorgeous and quite the ‘Aphrodite of the Teeth’ herself. Or, maybe she’s just a fatty who got lucky and didn’t care to walk in the shadow of beauty…

Making Lemonade

2006-07-13T23:21:00.000-07:00

I did it… I finally walked out on my life on Sunday night. It was a long time coming. No, I’m not happy about it… the whole experience was very bizarre. I am not particularly sure of how it all came down, but I do know that I ended up at the grocery store buying baby food at 10 pm and bitching about it to my best bud over the phone.

Really, the only thing I remember was that I was tidying up my house and Ares was heating up some pizza from the night before. I wasn’t hungry, and I had told him so a few times over but, as usual, Ares decided that I was going to eat- against my will –because we all know that, at 31 years of age, I still don’t know how to make my own decisions, right? Seriously. Sometimes I think that I speak to him in rubbery tongues and that’s why my words always seem to bounce off his hard head (WOW! That could almost be a line in a porn flick!). He sat down, shook his head as if reprimanding me for not coming to the table *right-this-instant* and began to complain profusely about me cleaning up the house. One second later, I just ignited…

After I came back, I decided to just start taking things one day at a time… no looking ahead. It just makes life easier when you don’t have any expectations so that you’re never let down. I wake up every morning now, and if I have a good day -great. If not, then hopefully tomorrow will be better. Is this admitting defeat? Ares and I have some serious shit to work through. He needs to stop treating me like I'm 5 years old... really, is it too much to ask to let me be and stop controlling what I do, when and how I do it? Shit! I am so fed up, even the make-up sex –as darn awesome as it was- just didn’t do it for me this time around. We’ll see how well we can adjust to the new attitude…

Life Handed Me Lemons

2006-07-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

Some days I feel like the only reason I went to college was to get a degree to hang over the kitchen sink and stare at while I do dishes. Some days I want to scream at the top of my lungs and cry all day. Some days I just want to run out the door and never come back. Some days I just want to dig a hole in the ground, crawl in it, and die. Some days I want to pack up my shit and take a plane somewhere very, very, very far. Some days I think I’m going mad… others I think I already am. Then, on Sundays, I'm expected to give thanks for this life?

I am completely numb from the many nights without sleep, my hands feel like sandpaper, I haven’t seen the inside of a gym in many months, I don’t remember what my hair looks like when it’s clean, my clothes don't fit, and -when I look in the mirror- I don’t recognize the person staring back at me or the body where she resides. Most days I don’t even have the time to enjoy the simpler things in life like eating, reading a good magazine while at the crapper, or even getting dressed. Worst of all, I don't remember the person I was and I certainly cannot believe that I let her go when I was so proud and in love with who she was and who she had become.

I miss my life…the REAL life, the one I signed up for and left behind... I miss it terribly! If I had just one wish it would be to go back in time and make better life choices. I wouldn’t have gotten married the first time around, because I knew for a fact that we were going to end up divorced even before I married the asshole. I wouldn’t have returned from Rome. I have taken more time to get married the second time around, and I -most definitely- wouldn’t be spending long ass days knee deep in shitty diapers, running after a 1-year-old while breast-feeding a newborn, replying to emails from my ‘chicken little’ clients, doing laundry, doing dishes, vaccuuming, making beds, cleaning after my husband, and everything else my *dearest* Ares thinks a magic troll comes to do every day while he’s out playing techie with clients and I sit at home with my thumb up my ass. I cannot believe he had the cojones two days ago to tell me that I "don't know how to manage time effectively". I wanted to kick his ass... hell, two days later, I still do... for real... with closed fists and all. For the very first time ever, I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

So, how the fuck did I end up living this life? Did I really make these choices? When? More importantly, why? I have a fucking degree which took me 7 years and about 70k to complete!!! I had a thriving career, a house, time to spend doing all the things that made me happy... I had a life!! Where the hell did it all go? Why am I stuck in this fucking nightmare day in and day out? Funny, I think at one point in my life- for like a megasecond- I actually wanted this kind of home-living... I must have been fucking delirious, on Vicodin, or drunk off my ass. The grass isn't alwys greener on the other side... in my case, the grass is shit brown!

It’s official… I absofuckinglutely…HATE MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!

Keeping Up the Neighbors

2006-07-06T20:49:00.000-07:00

Ahhh… apartment life, got to love it! A few nights ago, I listened as our neighbor upstairs stumbled home during a foggy, alcohol-laden, too-early-to-think-straight morning hour and screwed the living daylights out of the piece of ass that followed her in.

I think that she was REALLY drunk, or maybe the guy hadn’t gotten laid since high school, but the sex was Q-U-I-C-K! In less than 30 seconds, they were done! It was so quick, that I didn’t even have the time to fantasize about what position they were indulging in. Then, in a flash, the door slammed… and her piece of ass started down the stairs. Another one bites the dust…

The whole episode reminded me of when I first met Ares. I used to spend weekends in his apartment doing nothing else but having sex. We would get out of bed only to fulfill the other basic need in life- eating. The sex was so darn good, we would meet up for nooners, stay up all night, and on occasions, skip work altogether. Nine times in six hours was our record.

One afternoon, we came home to discover a little note on the door. In very clear handwriting, obviously the work of someone who wanted to be understood, we were told the following:

Dear Neighbor:

During the last two weeks, we have been awakened every night during the hours of 1:45 and 3:30 am by the sounds of your mattress against the wall. I am guessing you must be a new tenant, and are not aware that the walls in these apartments are paper-thin. Please move your mattress away from the wall, so that we can get some sleep.

Thank you,
Your Neighbor

Two weeks later, we ran into Ares’ neighbors in the hall… packing their shit into a moving truck.

I wished my neighbor upstairs would have taken longer, if only for the enjoyment of those of us who only got to hear a little bit of the racquet at 2:30am. I think next time, I’m going to write her a note… and ask her to keep us up a little longer.

A Love Like No Other

2006-06-26T23:31:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here tonight with so much going through my mind, so much going on in my life, so incredibly exhausted in body, mind, and spirit. I need so much to feel the warmth of my husband’s skin against mine, his soft voice, to gaze into the mysterious world that hides behind his brown eyes. I look around this apartment that seems so empty without him, and I long for those days when it was just the two of us, together … alone.

When we met, just over 2-1/2 years ago, we both knew –instantly- that we were meant to be together. I remember every second of that night so vividly! I can recall every single instant, every word said, every gesture, every single thought. I was captivated by the warmth of his spirit and the genuineness of his smile. Never did I imagine that on that cold and windy December night in 2003, as I opened the door into that restaurant, my life would be changed forever. We've never left each other’s side since that night.

Thirtyone months, a start-up business and two beautiful children later, we are still as deeply committed and in love as we have ever been. I cannot even imagine my life without the joy of his presence in it, or raising our children without the happiness I see in his eyes as he holds them, or without the many nights spent dreaming about growing old –really old- together. I dream about him, thrive in his presence, adore him… love him. I realize that my life without him is so very small. I admire him and look upon him with the outmost respect for the many sacrifices he makes for the well being of our family, for the way in which he loves me and for the beautiful person that he is.

So, as I sit here, missing him dearly, counting the hours until he returns to my loving arms, the beauty I see in my children brings him closer to me. I see him in them, his spark, his happiness, the love in his eyes. I realize that, even in my pain and exhaustion, I can honestly say that I am the happiest and luckiest person in the planet!

Busting Out on Mother's Day

2006-05-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

I started this post last week… but forgot to post it. Busy Mom, what can I say? Here it goes:

With Mother’s Day now long gone- thank God- I am now able to get past my foul mood and write about my very first Mother’s Day.

I woke up to a screaming child and no Daddy… anywhere. But it didn’t bother me since the Daddy had been going on and on for WEEKS prior about how he and the baby had been working on this huge surprise for Mommy. So, since I thought he might have been busy setting something up, I got up, changed the little one’s diaper and started to get ready for this wonderful day. In my mind, this was going to be the trend setting day… the one that would begin the tradition of many more to come, and I was looking forward to a picnic in the park, or a day at the zoo… something of the sorts, simple and fun. Ha, ha, ha to me!

It's not too long before I realize that the Daddy is at the computer. He had been working for a while, apparently. Nothing new there. I thought: “Ok, we do have a business to take care of, and working on weekends has become sort of a family tradition all in its own, so... no big deal. Hopefully, he’ll get off the darn thing and pay attention to us for a little bit today”. I figured I’d let that one go as well.

About 30 minutes later, dragging his feet into our bedroom, the Daddy proceeds to tell me that he had *wanted* to buy me a gift, but that it didn’t turn out. Turn out?! Ok, a cookie recipe might not turn out, a trip to Europe might not turn out, or a business deal might not turn out, but how in the world does buying a gift not turn out? I sat in confusion for a minute, but soon realized that I really didn’t need anything or cared for a gift anyway. In fact, I actually appreciated not getting anything since we have such limited space here. We have a gorgeous, healthy kid, another one on the way, a roof over our heads, food on the table, friends, family, and our health. What more could I ever care for? So I let that one go, too.

Then I noticed that he really had NOTHING, NADA, ZILCH for me… not a plan, not a surprise, not a card from him OR the babies, not a flower, not breakfast in bed, not even a little piece of paper scribbled with rambling thoughts… So, I did what every other level-headed woman who has popped out a kid or two and is grossly overlooked on her first Mother's Day would: I yelled at him, called him an insensitive prick (a few times over), took a bath, got dressed, left him with the baby, shut off my phone, and went window shopping until my feet went numb.

Now, THAT’S what I call Mother’s Day!!

Friendships Are for Now

2006-03-20T19:31:00.000-08:00

I miss my friends. No, not the ‘I’ll-call-you-once-in-a-while’ kind of friends, I have quite a few of those, but the long lasting friendships that are further cemented by each milestone accomplished in life. I have met a lot of people in this town, but I have yet to feel really close to anyone. It seems as if most of the people I have met have a thick shield that guards them from showing their true selves… and I wear my heart on my sleeve. Not that I expect the same, but for some reason, I just never feel people are very genuine. Maybe it’s me. I’m certainly not going to proclaim that I am perfect. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but given that I am as American as it gets, that’s very unlikely. Maybe it is the fact that I didn’t grow up here, and neither did many of the people I’ve met, so there is no real feeling of belonging, nor a true sense of permanence. Whatever it is, I long for the same kind of friendships I still keep with some of the people whose life I was a part of back home and in Philadelphia.

I worry for my children. I certainly would love for them to have the ability to have great, long-lasting friendships that will last a lifetime. But, as I look around and see just how self-absorbed and dismissive most people are, and how children’s focus is being turned from finding value in themselves to finding worth in the material things they posses, I just can’t help but wonder if the world’s meaning of the word ‘friendship’ is changing and I have just lagged behind. I think there’s been a real shift from what used to be the concept of true friendship: a life sibling of one’s choosing; to shallow relationships lacking a solid base or true connections. It’s the difference between mom’s home made chicken soup and the canned variety: I can still eat the canned soup, but it’s just not as good for the soul.

A Daughter's Choice

2006-03-16T01:00:00.000-08:00

I have been having thoughts about some of the men in my past, especially my father, who I chose to ostracize from my life -for good- when my son was born last July. It’s difficult for me to talk about my father, not because I care for him, but because his mother was one of the greatest people that I have ever met in my entire life. She’s been gone for almost 4 years, but yet I still feel forever indebted to her for all the things that she ever taught me, for the times that we shared and the love that she always had for me. So, when I speak negatively about my father, I always feel that I am doing a great injustice to her memory. I hope that she understands.

I remember it was Father’s Day, I was 4, and getting ready to go visit with my father. My mother was helping me button my shirt. I wished that I didn’t have to go, like I did every weekend the courts stipulated I had to be with him. I knew it was difficult for her to let me go, and even at that age, I knew perfectly well why. We were in the middle of her bedroom, in our little 2 bedroom apartment, bright sunlight coming in the window, when she handed me a little picture frame. In it was a poster of a calm beach, sea gulls flying close to the water, and the poem ‘Footsteps’ written in Spanish along the side. I took it from her, not really understanding what I was supposed to do with it, when she said it was a Father’s Day present for me to give to my father. I looked at it again, feeling sad in knowing that she had spent her hard earned money on something that he would take one look at and toss aside. Never mind that it probably only cost about $3, or that she did it for me and not him, but years later, I cried for her overlooked gesture when the picture resurfaced in my grandmother’s house, with the glass shattered and water stains on the faded picture.

It’s uncanny how some things just stick to our minds like that and for what seems like ages. There are so many stories of him to be told, that sometimes I loose track and think that I am revisiting some old fictional novel that I read at some point in my life. But it is not, and I still bear the emotional scars to prove it. Nope, I surely don’t even miss him, the sad, defeated look in his face, his bloated face, his slurred speech, his lies. I never thought his alcoholism was a disease, but rather his life choice. I recall very clearly the last time I saw him… it was September of 2003. I flew back home to visit my family and, as usual, what started out as a weekend getaway from my ex-husband and my boring suburban life in Houston, turned into a two week vacation. We met at a restaurant. I don’t know why I thought things would be different, I was probably still very naïve at the time, but he was the same asshole he had always been. I know everyone needs at least one asshole in their life, but considering I had left one behind in Houston, this one I just didn’t want to have to deal with.

We sat and had dinner. He wasn’t drinking. Not even a beer. I thought he was making an effort much too large to impress me by now, especially since in the 20-something years of my existence, and through the seemingly constant pleas from his mother, myself and other family members, he had never made any effort to stop drinking, killing in his denial any kind of positive relationship that he could have ever fostered with his children or any of the 3 people he shared his life with and who had since moved on… far on. He mumbled on and on about something. It really didn’t matter. All I know is that whatever had moved me, for years, to continue beating myself emotionally by giving him some kind of space in my heart and in my life, was now non-existent. I wanted out… out of the restaurant… out of that relationship. It took me one single moment to come to terms with it all, to realize that people just don’t ever change, that he would forever continue to be the self-centered asshole that had plenty to develop life-long, self-gratifying dependencies, but never enough to feed his children. As I sat there, numb, trying to look interested in his newly found sobriety, I couldn’t help but feel pitiful that the person before me was, at one point, portrayed in my mind as this larger than life action character, but was now just a raggedy, old prune. I felt so angry and all I could think was: “What a waste of my fucking time to think that he would ever give a damn about me!” Here he was proclaiming to be sober, yet there was not even a hint of an apology for all of the damage and neglect he had caused me… and it never came. He was lying, and I knew it, and I wanted to run away from it as quickly as possible.

So what, might one ask, would drive someone to such a drastic change of tune? Here’s a list of *highlights* from the journals of the asshole I called father for so long:

Claiming to be at church during my birth… then showing up hours later followed closely by the most disgusting stench of alcohol in the planet.

Going drinking on a Friday night, asking a girl to marry him, having her show up at his door the next morning –with her mother- so that they could start preparing for the wedding. The girl showed up, only to be greeted by my mother, who promptly made her aware that she was his wife. So glad they both wised up and left his sorry ass! I was a newborn.

Forgetting to pick me up at school on a Friday afternoon. Thankfully, a teacher who had stayed late on that particular day, called my mother to let her know that I was found all alone in school grounds at 6pm and to please pick me up as soon as possible. I was 4.

Filling my head with lies about my mother, just so that I would side with him and think he was the poor little martyr that everyone is trying to take advantage of. I was 5.

Telling me all sorts of crap about my mother’s new husband so that I would not accept him as a Dad and proceed to cause trouble in their marriage. This is called sabotage. I was 5. The problem is that I love this man to pieces –he has always been and will FOREVER be my real father- regardless of any situation he and my mother go through. But, for the record, 25 years later, they are still happily married.

Calling on a Friday afternoon to say he was 15 minutes away and would be picking me up shortly. By Sunday afternoon, I would be still waiting, unpacking my suitcase, blaming myself for his absence, and crying. Every time the phone rang I trembled thinking it was the police calling to tell me that he had been found dead in some gutter. I was 7.

Finally realizing that he had a duty to fulfill as a parent and picking me up on a given Friday to spend the weekend together. Then, as soon as the clocks hit 8pm on Friday night, he would dump me off at my grandmother’s house, never to be seen again. I would have to call my mother on Sunday afternoon -holding back tears- to have her pick me up. I was 8.

Showing up at his house at 4am, drunk off his ass, waking up his pregnant wife (now his ex) so that she would cook for him. All the while, his children, sleeping in the next room, were being disturbed by his cussing and yelling during his drunken stupor. I was 8.

Having temper attacks to the point that he would get escorted out of public places- under arrest and handcuffed- while on ‘family’ outings.

Nickel and dimeing his ex-wives to pay as minimum a child support payment as possible, so that he had more money to go out and pay hookers, bartenders, and drug dealers for their *services*.

Claiming that my mother stole money from him, when I know for a fact that he rarely -if ever- paid the miserable $150-a-month child support payment stipulated by the courts.

Claiming he was unemployed so that he didn’t have to pay for his children, when he owned an investment bank that generated a substantial amount of profit.

Going out and drinking heavily at a bar, only to come home to tell his then wife that he had no money left to buy milk for his infant son and daughter!! WTF?! They were infants!!!!

Taking his 8-year-old son to a corner bar to shoot pool with a bunch of other drunken assholes he called friends, so that he would “understand the things that men do.” Whatever. To this day, I still wish someone from CPS had been casually walking by and taken the kid from him. Then again, any CPS agent walking those kinds of neighborhoods at any time of day would have had to be fired anyway.

Agreeing with his ex-live-in-girlfriend to not ever see or attempt to find his son, in exchange for not having to pay child support –ever. SUCKER!!! I was soooooo happy when, years later, this came to bite him right in the ass. She came back to the courts claiming he had not paid a dime in child support for her now 9-year-old child. He was locked up for a day, while his now ex-wife scrambled to bail him out before he would become the platter of the day at the jail house, and all the while badmouthing the child’s mother. How appropriate that, years later, she would find herself in the EXACT same situation.

Telling me that I was a ‘bad daughter’ for not ever showing him my report card. First of all, I was in college, ok? Besides, he was the asshole who refused to send me $500 for tuition and left on a three-week vacation to Italy the very NEXT day! I know he thinks he paid for my college degree... but he didn't... I have thousands of dollars in student loans to prove it!

Having a female ‘friend’ for over 25 years, even through his marriages and other relationships, and keeping her hidden from his wives. This is called infidelity to everyone else in the PLANET, but to him, it was completely normal behavior.

Buying two cars -for me- neither of which I ever got. Buying a kayak -for me- that I never used. Sending me to out-of-state college for 7 years -on $2,000. Giving me $5,000 for my wedding –in the form of Monopoly money. Giving me $12,000 as a wedding gift to put down on a house -all Monopoly bills. Stealing over $20,000 from my grandmother’s inheritance, stealing my great-grandmother’s jewelry to pawn for drug money… you name the filthy, ruthless, stink of a lie… it has most definitely come out of his pie hole.

Refusing to attend my wedding because it was “too difficult” for him to accept –in front of all his family- that I was not walking down the aisle arm in am with him. Duh! His family has ALWAYS known just how neglectful a father he has been all his shitty little life.

Having a temper tantrum when I forgot to give back my great-grandfather’s journal and promised to bring it back later. He proceeded to throw a wedding picture I gave him, of his two other children, right back at me and kick me out of his house. I didn’t talk to him after that for a very long time… until his wife apologized for him. Things were NEVER the sdame, though. I was 27.

Claiming to be taking care of my grandmother, who died of Alzheimer’s disease, while she lived in filth, in a little town in the mountains, without any close relatives nearby, no medication refills, no groceries, relying on the kind hearts of her former students –people who were now in their 60’s and in need of assistance themselves- to take care of every minimal need she had, allowing for her money to be stolen by other relatives, falsifying her checks to fund his vices … and then being the first one to line up at the attorney’s office after she died to claim a piece of the pie.

Trying to convince me -against all my will, my memories, and all of the evidence that proved contrary- that the reason why he was a ratty-ass parent and stood me up was because my mother hid me from him. WTF?! Never mind that I still have the memories of my mother, step-father and sisters leaving WITHOUT ME for a weekend outing, and I would stay home, waiting on this asshole just to have him not show up for the entire weekend!!!

Need I say more? It’s a miracle I turned out sane… right? Through it all, I must say that I learned quite a deal. I lost my childhood at a very early age because I had to continually deal with parents who could not get along. I understand now that the decisions my mother made regarding my father and which, at the time, made me think she was the culprit for his lack of responsiveness with me, were done out of love and protection for her beloved child. Her father abandoned her too, and just like me, she turned her back on him forever. I know it hurt her then, but she had no choice. I had the opportunity to meet him, but chose not to. Unfortunately, my sister ventured -out of curiosity- and was left feeling angry and hurt after he refused to acknowledge her presence. So, I choose to think that I am protecting my child the only way I have been taught how: by turning my back against that which will cause him pain, even if it is his grandfather, blood of my blood, blood of his blood. But I know my father will never care for my son, ever... it's just not in his nature. I have come to the realization that this is not a loss for anyone involved. I am, however, protecting my son from the thoughts of inadequacy that are triggered by the blame children put on themselves when confronted with these kinds of situations... thoughts that I still have to struggle with, that have spilled onto other aspects of my life, and that will probably never fade. I just hope that, someday, if my son finds out who his blood grandfather is, he too will understand.

It's Zoo Time!

2006-03-08T00:45:00.000-08:00

So Ares and I took our little one to the Houston Zoo on Saturday afternoon. I was amazed to see just how many other people had nothing better to do than to spend their entire afternoon fighting over non-existent parking amidst a herd of fragrantly challenged individuals, giant rhino pop dung, and the shit-flinging monkeys.

We purchased a membership, I really don't know why since the last time we were there was about a year ago. I think Ares just wanted to buy something for the little one. It's a Daddy thing, I guess. I inquired at the membership booth about having the little one's first birthday there, and was directed to another booth that had been specifically set up -balloons and everything- to give out information about birthday parties at the zoo. I approached the middle aged lady, who looked bored to tears sitting by herself at the booth and asked her about birthdays at the zoo. She took one look at me, smiled, handed me a brochure- never mind that it was the SAME one that I was holding in my hand right in front of her face!!- flipped it over, and told me to go online and read about it all. Ok... I want her job!!! It must be incredible to get paid to do nothing- literally! Must be difficult for her manager, though, to delegate NOTHING to her subordinates. She reminded me of our mail carrier...

So, there we were watching the littlest jaguars frolic endlesly with each other amidst old, wet cardboard boxes and moss spread around their pen, when we heard the sounds of the Life Flight helicopter coming into the hospital a block away. We didn’t think much of it, anyone who's ever driven the Houston freeways knows that a person turned to mush and having to be taken by helicopter to the hospital is as common as Jehova's witnesses knocking at your door on a Saturday morning at 7am. All of a sudden, the lady standing behind me, and who had turned her 2-year-old’s happy-go-lucky zoo visit into an episode of National Geographic, complete with semi-scientific facts blurted out every 5 seconds, turns to her child and says:

Mother (in her most annoying yet teacher-like voice): “Can you hear that?”
Child (inquisitively): “Ahm? Yes”
Mother: “Can you tell me what that is?”
Child: A helticoter!
Mother: “Yes, very good… but can you say Life Flight?”
Child (boring look on his face): “Hmmm?“
Mother: “That helicopter is someone who is really hurt -probably about to die- being taken to the hospital.”
Child (worried look on his face): “Huh?”
Father: “Sometimes people get hurt so bad that an ambulance doesn't have the time to bring them to the hospital, so Life Flight gets them.”
Child (almost to tears): “Huh?”
Mother: “Say Life Flight”
Father: “L-i-f-e…. F-l-i-g-h-t”
Child cries hysterically!

So this is how you kill what could have otherwise been a fantastic, care-free and fun day at the zoo for a 2-year-old, while simultaneously, turning him into a hypochondriac who is sure to call Life Flight the next time he gets a mosquito bite. Way to go, Mom & Dad!

Oh, and while I’m on the whole Houston Zoo subject. When we came home that afternoon, absolutely disgusted by the smell of rhino shit and sweat we brought home as a souvenir -hey, it was cheaper than anything at the Zoo store!- I came across the funniest thing. On the ‘Map & General Information’ brochure that is handed out at the Zoo entrance, right there in the ‘Please Mind Your Zoo Manners’ section, the brochure says:

“We let the animals run around naked, but it scares them (and us) if you’re not wearing shoes and appropriate clothing. Please keep yourself covered.

WHAT?! No, naked time at the Zoo?! I want to revoke my membership!

It's a Family Thing

2006-03-06T02:03:00.000-08:00

Sometimes people annoy me… but relatives annoy the crap out of me…ALWAYS!

Last week, we went out to dinner with my in-laws. So, what are a few hours with the in-laws, right? Mine are *special* people, though. Not to say I don’t love them, after all they are my dearest Ares’ parents, and the grandparents of our beautiful child, but *sharing* any kind of time with them takes some deep mental prep, a shit load of valium… and even then sometimes taking a horse-sized enema is a more pleasant way to spend my time.

See, my mother-in-law is this ubber Catholic, holier-than-thou individual who does not necessarily choose to live life in the most Christian of ways, she is constantly reciting her own made-up bible verses, she spends her time telling people that “you must” do this and “you must” do that, yet doesn’t really do anything for herself. She’s stuck in another world, literally, preferring to talk about a much grander past she left in another country 30 years ago, than to make any attempts to get to know the world that has surrounded her since. Her house is a cave that smells like Luby’s, where the sun never comes in and the temperature is never below 96 degrees. She treats her pets like children and she treats our child like he’s a pet. She chooses to speak in ear-searing, high-pitched, chipmunk-like voices, gossips incessantly with the excuse that she’s “helping others by giving advice”, and bathes herself in the preferred scent of crazy old ladies: Chanel No 5, to the point that our poor child is left breathless after a hug and unpleasantly scented for 5 hours after she’s babysat. She is absolutely and annoyinglgy persistent in conserving our little one fully covered with socks and under thick fleece blankets in the 100 degree plus Houston heat! However insane she seems, though, she does love our child and is nice enough at times that I will agree to give her 5 minutes of ear time to rant, if only in gratitude for taking care of the kid when we’re in a jam.

Then there is my father-in-law, a nice individual, whipped ball-less by his wife, who tried to imbed in his children that all things done his very antiquated way are best… even after he’s proven wrong- repeatedly. He’s stout and short, with a perpetual *I-told-you-so* smile on his face. He has no real convictions, no voice in conversations, prefers to keep to himself, and has absolutely no motivation or ambition in life. He takes great pride in every wood-and-chicken-wire box he’s ever built and which are scattered throughout their very cluttered home, and prefers to talk about the weather, fishing, or baseball than to listen to his wife rant about some distant relative who is too old to know them from their own reflection in the mirror. I don't blame him at all. Sometimes I look at him while she's ranting and I feel deeply saddened by the fact that he has to put up with that shit everyday… but then I remember that he alone made that choice. He’s someone who I will probably never relate or be close to, but who I like to think I understand to some degree. He loves our child to tears, and prefers to treat him like a big kid rather than speaking to him like he’s a pet... which I just love. However, at times I don’t think he feels that Ares is the great Daddy that he is, choosing to belittle his fatherly decisions rather than admire the very loving way in which his son is raising his own children. It’s at these times when I do tend brush him off, angry that he can’t see the great man his son has become, and then I put him in the same category as his wife.

I also have two sisters-in-law: one of whom is forty, a desk-cop who thinks she knows the world from watching the news on TV, the BBC films, and playing SIMS on her computer all day. She still lives at home with her parents. She goes on and on about how people don’t know how to raise their kids these days, yet she’s never had a man in her life, or never had a relationship... not even a one-night stand to keep her mind occupied. So, she has absolutely no idea of what it’s like to bring kids to this world. I can sum her up in three words: she is lazy. She has given up on life altogether, preferring to have Mommy cook, wash, and clean for her while Daddy fills up her car’s gas tank and prepares her cooler for work. She would love nothing more than for everyone else to spend their time thinking for her and investing their time and money rescuing her from the financial sinker she's gotten herself into. She’s bitter- oh, so very bitter- at everyone and everything, preferring to blame others for her failures in life rather than to take accountability and correct them. Her life passes by with nothing to do but work, watch TV, play video games, and have an outing here or there with Mommy or one of her two very distant friends. It’s quite scary to see how she’s quickly becoming a *mini-Me* of her mom, adopting every blatantly incorrect thought that comes out of her mother's mouth as her very own, and rushing to judge others based on the rants of her very uneducated mother.

Finally, there’s the second sister, in her forties, physically stuck in a passion-less marriage, and like her mother, emotionally stuck in a past that doesn't belong to her anymore. She lost 25 pounds a few years ago, so now she thinks she’s smarter, prettier, faster, and better than anyone else. She leaves her very ill husband at home while she spends her time at bars with twenty-some-things “partying”, but has no idea of the underlined meaning that the word “party” has these days, especially in that kind of crowd. She has been going through a perpetual mid-life crisis since I met her 3 years ago, and I cannot foresee an end to it. She has the worst attitude issues I have ever experienced, with her family, her job, her husband and even her mother-in-law. She developed this deep-rooted jealousy towards us when I became pregnant since she never had children with her husband and now longs for one. Even now that our little one is 8-months-old and I am pregnant again, she doesn't seem to care much- if any - for him or the new one on the way. A few months ago, she lost her job and refused to take accountability for her lack of managerial skills or proper work ethics. Everyone in the family decided to side with her, even before attempting to understnad the situation at hand. I know I was the only one who openly said nothing, yet secretly sided with her boss... and I still do. I have tried to like her, I have even tried to relate to her by admiring her skillful jewelry work, but there is a better chance for me to be a Nobel peace prize winner than there is for me to relate to her on any level... and we all know for a fact where my prize nomination stands. She has tried to antagonize me on so many levels, I have lost count, but I choose to ignore her since I really only see her two or three times a year. I feel for her husband, a man in his forties who has fought a very long battle with diabetes and faces the possibility of dying on a daily basis. I wish so much better for him, but just like my father-in-law, it was his sole decision to spend his life with this woman, in this loveless marriage.

So, how do I put up with all of it? I ignore everyone single one of them because I adore Ares and I respect the fact that our children need to have the opportunity to make these judgments on their own. So, if ignoring them is what it takes for me to be able to stand being around them, then that’s what I will have to do. I guess to say that my Ares’ family is *colorful* is to be blind-sided by the obvious shot of fluorescent orange emanating from the huge WARNING sign over his head. Yes, these people are one *eye-stabbing-with-a-lucky-bamboo-stalk* incident away from being institutionalized. However, I took a shot anyway, not because I was up for the challenge- you have to be a masochist of the worst kind to deliberately welcome this kind of emotional load into your life- but because I love him with all my heart and I know at times he feels the same way I do. I do feel bad for my children who are closer -physically- to these people than they are to their more normal relatives. I have to admit that, at times, they do get to me, and I wish for a normal family that I can respect and be respected by as well. It's at these times when I grow resentful of Ares, I cannot speak to him, look him in the eye, or even listen to what he has to say. I just want to run away and never have to deal with any of them again. Hopefully, someday we will move away, the sooner and farther the better.

See, Ares is the only person in his family who has some sense of normalcy, even if some of his friends might think otherwise. To the world he’s funny, ambitious, and loyal, a great friend to have, an awesome conversationalist who can talk your ears off in just about any subject. But to me he’s this incredible man, whose life would make any Isabel Allende book seem tame in comparison. Ares has gone through so much in his life, especially when it comes to family matters, that I would do just about anything to make the rest of his life happy, easy, and trouble-free. I not only love him, but I admire the person he is and the person he has become in the last three years since I met him. I look at him and I see 30 well-lived years, and at times I feel that my life –difficult as it has been- has been a fairy tale in comparison. See, instead of drowning in this pain and allowing himself to fall prey to martyrdom, as his entire family did, he chose to live life to its fullest, to laugh it all off and make the best of any dreadful situation life had in store. Give him a lemon, he will make the darn best lemonade ever; put him between a rock and a hard place and he will push on the rock until he can squeeze his way out. He went through high school and college with less resources than most of us can possibly imagine, yet he pushed through without complaints, accepting his circumstances and taking life in stride. He chose the cheapest sports to practice, so long as he could practice any sport. At school, he polished his entrepreneurial skills, gambling for his lunch money. He found no support in his family, but found the conviction and desire to succeed in his heart. I admire him in a way I never have anyone before. He is my pillar, my love, the only one that understands my quirks and loves me for them. At times, I sink so deep into an abyss, where all I can think about is the past and all of the things that I want to change in our lives but cannot. Then I take one look into Ares’ gorgeous eyes, and I understand just how pitifully insignificant my anger is.

This is why I put up with his family, why I chose to ignore what would otherwise ignite an argument or a fight in a marriage, so that peace is maintained in our lives. I pick my battles because he will always fight them alongside me, and I cannot find fairness in placing him in the middle of the battlefield to fight alone. He gives me the tools I don’t have in dealing with life and in exchange I give him a partner to lean on and fight the battles with.

Besides, I know my family is no bowl of cherries…but that's a whole other story!

Going Postal

2006-02-23T18:13:00.000-08:00

So, why is it that people with the most menial, mind-numbing jobs, most of which involve the least bit of though or effort, NEVER get it right? Really, sometimes wiping your ass takes much more effort and thought than some of the things people get paid to do for 8 hours a day. Yet, we rely- day in and day out -on these idiots to get some of our most important tasks accomplished. Case in point: our mail carrier.

Mid last week, I checked my mail box, only to find out that it was empty. Hmm…I checked again the next day- nothing- not even one of those annoying credit card applications or the little flyers with the ‘age enhanced’ pictures of missing kids that are now in their 40’s. Now, I am sure that to some people this is cause for celebration, but when my Valentine’s day gift, my kid’s books, and our bank statements went MIA, I started to wonder. Of course, the first person that came to mind was our mail carrier. Not that I wouldn’t trust our mail carrier… really, she’s an*exceptional* individual, in her twenties, with an attitude twice the size of her blimp-shaped ass, and with a great deal of skill in handling the mail AND her cell phone while chatting about the ‘baby daddy’ this and the ‘baby daddy’ that. Now, there was that one time when my insurance agent called me in hysterics after having received my pay stub nicely tucked in an OPEN envelope… and no check! Oh, and let’s not forget the time when I asked this *incredible* individual about a missing package. She chose to pretend not to hear me… funny, she seemed to be able to hear the idiot on the other side of the phone quite clearly (and so could I!)

So, late last week -and into today- I began to get all these phone calls and emails about my mail being returned. Most of them started with: “Oh, I didn’t know you had moved”...Hmmmmm????? or, “I invited you guys to my party, but the invitation came back undeliverable, did you move?” What?? So I checked my mail box again on Saturday and found out that the bitch had deliberately and arbitrarily, changed the name tags on our mail box!! WHAT.THE.FUCK?! Now, thanks to the ass who doesn’t know her pie hole from her shit hole, I have had to pay to have items re-delivered and mail re-sent.

So, I did what every other non-confrontational, parent-of-soon-to-be two would: I made tags in blinding bright RED and HUGE font for our box, GLUED them down to the box… and I left her a note. I impressed myself with my very passive approach. I began to think that, after the birth of my baby and with this pregnancy, I had become a softie. Perhaps it is a desire to set a better example for my child, or perhaps it is my husband’s constant reminder that I am pregnant and should avoid that kind of stress, perhaps maybe I have lost some of that Latin temper… or maybe I just didn’t want to get my hands dirty with such an asshole. In any case, the note read:

“Dear Mail Carrier:
PLEASE note that we are missing mail and have received notices via phone about mail that has been returned to sender as undeliverable. We noticed that our names were changed on our box for NO APPARENT REASON – this is a B-I-G PROBLEM! Please check with the leasing office next time prior to making these UNCALLED-FOR changes.

Thank you”.

I should have known, damn it! I should have known! The next day I get this half-ass-chicken-shit-ghetto-scribble crammed on the same piece of paper that read:

“No one was removing the mail for over a month, It was returned to sender.”

WHAT.THE.FUCK?! She probably would have been better off telling me that I am a cock-sucking whore. Seriously, I could feel the steam slowly taking over and my whole body turning red. My feet swelled up, my neck was stiff, my hands clenched into fists and I just… went postal! Why oh why, is it that they can NEVER take accountability for their stupidity? They fuck around, screw up and then it’s everyone else’s fault but their own. Plus, they STILL get paid, whether I get my mail or not.

So, I wrote another letter, and gathered pieces of mail that I had retrieved 2-3 weeks prior- this was war and I was out to take her! But, the note didn’t make it to the mail box… which was probably a very good thing for her. I am pretty sure that, at this point, I would have killed her if she had replied with another chicken-shit-ignorant-rant. So, I called the post master, let her know that our mail carrier was tampering with our mail and promptly reminded her that this was a federal offense. She was quite pleasant and VERY quick to let me know that she would personally take care of the situation. I guess this means I am maturing... or something. I hope the blimp-assed-chicken-shit-ignorant-menial-worker-bitch got fired… then again, she’ll probably end up on welfare and costing me a fortune in taxes. I never win…hey, at least I KNOW I haven’t lost my Latin temper after all! LOL!

To Steal or Not?

2006-02-23T00:09:00.000-08:00

So how in the world do you get away with taking $43 million from a bank, hoping in a van and taking off without a trace?

http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/europe/02/22/uk.robbery/index.html

It amazes me every time that, in this time and age where to make a simple bank transaction you have to surrender a vile of blood and your first-born child, people can get away with impersonating the police… and stealing this much moolah. However, I am inclined to think that, in a country where half the population does not know the meaning of the word ‘dentist’, a heist of this proportion is probably easier than pulling teeth. Not to offend all you Brits out there, my great-grandfather was a British national with a lengthy military career, the most gorgeous sky-blue eyes… and the worst teeth in the planet.

So, I start dreaming about what I would do if I had such a substantial amount of money… as I do every time I sit here with a pile of bills ready to give money away to corporations that need it a lot less than I do. I can just picture Ares and I sipping beverages gently poured into tall glasses, dozing off naked under big blue umbrellas in some beach in the Caribbean, playing with our 'sandy' selves. Of course, this is my dream, so I have bigger boobs, a smaller ass and he’s just as perfect as he is today. Funny that, with this much money, most people would splurge on designer duds and high-strung social lives, but apparently I will be entitled to live a happy, lazy and very naked existence.

Then my darn morals kick in and I wonder if these people ever think about the possibility of getting caught. This would be my downfall- I would be in constant worry about getting caught, not because my life would be confined to an 8’ x 10’ space shared with Ulla the barbaric dike who becomes the Sweet Momma who puts me to bed – and not necessarily by reading bed time stories- but because I would have to give it all back. And there goes the good ol’ naked times with Ares’ hot ass, which would most definitely be on the most wanted list over at his new ‘crib’.

I have to admit though, as incorrect as it is to steal, I do think ‘coming’ into money this way is much more admirable than winning the lottery. See, this takes planning. This takes risk. This takes resignation. This takes determination. Winning the lottery only takes a ride over to the corner gas station with a buck and a crap load of luck. The funny thing is that, either way, the next step would be to hide, if not from authority, from the throngs of ‘long-lost’ relatives –including Uncle Sam- that will be coming out of Bumble Fuck to claim a piece of the pie.

So, knowing that I don’t have what it takes to plan and execute such a plan, as exemplified by my futile attempt to steal a candy bar from a Walgreen’s at the tender age of 4, after which I had to return it and apologize to the manager (Humiliation is a Latino mother’s best weapon!), I will be on my merry way tomorrow morning to purchase my very own lottery ticket, and hopefully, I’ll be sipping those drinks –naked- with Ares on a beach somewhere soon.