Adventures in la la land

As per my previous post, I've been very busy. There is no slowing down in sight. I did, however, take the day off today. I'm typically off work Saturday's though I go to school from 9-3:30. I love school, but I've been extremely overwhelmed and well, pregnant lately, thus the day off. Part doctors orders, part brain explosion, I have a enjoyed a very relaxing, very quiet day at home today.

These last two weeks I've worked over 90 hours, plus school, plus taking care of the kiddos, plus being six and a half months pregnant make Mal a very dull girl. Last Sunday I was supposed to go to my friend's house for a bbq but I was extremely tired from being me, so I opted for the movies instead. I am very bored with life right now. Not to be confused with bored in general, as I'm busier than a whore on dollar night, just bored with life. I'm so busy I don't have time to see my friends, nor do I really want to make the effort because I'm so tired after my busy days and want nothing more than to throw on my pajamas and watch yet more Law & Order. The latter always wins out. Breathe is not the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

I'm so greateful for my current life, don't get me wrong, but I am most definitely grateful for this free day. I'm actually getting a chance to blog! Even though my blogging "skills" lately have been a little rough around the edges. Back in the day, I had each blog prewritten in my head before sitting down in front of my computer. Now, it takes me roughly an hour or so to write out one very short paragraph. I blame the baby for my current state of brain. I can barely keep my clients straight, much less think about the things I want to blog about throughout my day.

Absentminded IS the right word. I don't even really know what I'm talking about right now. This baby better be a genius. Well, off to do some more lounging around on the couch looking like a beached whale.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important...life!

My life has been hectic, to say the least. Along with this pregnancy sucking the life out of me as aliens do, I'm running on the fumes of fumes. I work full-time, over 40 hours a week and go to school on one of my days off. Why would I do this to myself? Well, I may be a little crazy. Or Ambitious, however you want to look at it. Since my impregnation, my life got thrown into hyperdrive. The impending doom of having to get a new car and house for my ever expanding, amazon family, as previously stated in my last blahg, lit a fire under my ass, so to speak. Which with the gross pregnancy symptom of gas looming around every corner, that may not be the best idea.

But I digress. My schedule has thrown me into a state of constant weariness. I love my work, however, after even just 3 hours in a row on my feet, my body pretty much hates me and trys to betray me by sending shooting pains through my hips and back and my puppies start barking like a dog to a mailman. And school? I enjoy it immensely. It's fun, interesting and challenging, which is right up my alley, though it does take away from one of my days off, but surprisingly enough, I don't feel as tired as I do after a day at work.

While I'm not at work, I still have sarcastic, rebellious children to contend with and a boyfriend who would like me to actually put my clothes away...who does that? Oh, everybody? Well, I like to think of myself as different. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Putting my clothes away is a tedious extra chore which I would like to avoid like the plague. A chore which I do succesfully avoid like the plague. I don't want to spend my one day off doing something boring. I'd rather lay on the couch and watch endless hours of Law & Order: SVU, thanks to Netflix.

On top of all that, it is currently wedding season. So that keeps me busy making veils and other such hair baubles for one of the most important days in a woman's life. This however, I do not hate. I really love the process of sewing and beading and playing with feathers, oh my! If I could get paid, and get paid well, just to do that? I would. In a heartbeat! But alas, this is not my life. I cut and color and perm and will hopefully some day real soon will assist dentists drilling away in people's dirty, dirty mouths. It's a lot of fun! But hard and scary all at the same time. Making veils and hair baubles is relaxing for me. Plus I get to sit on my couch and watch copious amounts of Hoarding and Law & Order:SVU while dilligently applying crystals to Russian tulle. Can you tell I'm obsessed with Law & Order just a bit?


Pregnancy aside, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to handle all of this were I able to still work out and drink lots of coffee as was done pre bun being placed in my oven. I don't work out because my body seems to not want to cooperate and keep me in a constant state of pain. I am of the belief this little guy is going to be a genius as well as rambunctious. Genius? I'm surprised I remember my name. I believe he is taking all my smarts. So I'm tired and dumb. So what, right? It'll all be worth it in the end, and this kid better be an Einstein or else.

That is my life as of late. I don't see my friends as often as I'd like, if ever because when I'm not at school or work, I like to sit on my growing ass and stare at the tv with drool dripping down my chin. Ah well, love it or hate it, it's mine, all mine and I am making it work, even if I am half asleep through most of it.

The (mis)adventures of motherhood

My kids are amazons. I'll just throw that out there. They keep getting bigger and bigger every day and I just can't keep up. The genius now stands at a whopping 5'11" at the ripe young age of 13, wearing a size twelve shoe. The princess stands at 5' tall, wears a women's size 7 shoe and has bigger boobs than most 16 year olds...she's 9.

The poor genius is walking around with near high waters because we can't keep up with his growth spurts. Not to mention the fact that man pants are more expensive than little boy pants. Little princess is starting to complain about the boys at her school staring at her boobs. I told her to get used to it, as she is already taking after yours truly, what with my size DDD bust. I feel her pain. It's hard to explain to her the many facets of puberty. I don't remember ever getting that "talk" from my mom, so how am I supposed to explain things to my daughter? And the genius spends a little too much time in the shower. I want to believe he really does just want to be real clean, but J thinks he's actually having a spankin' good time. Since he was once an overactive teenage boy once upon a time, he must know these things. Things I'd rather not think about. Ick.

So it seems I will soon be dealing with another penis. We have found out that we are having a boy. The princess is happy, but not, as she will now be the only girl of five boys between my sister and I. However, I informed her, she will hold her reigning title as most spoiled girl in the family. To which she replied, "MOM, I don't like being spoiled! Memo and Nana buy me too many clothes." Yeah, sure, who doesn't like being spoiled. I know I sure as hell do. She also claims she is no longer a child. "MOM, I don't play with dolls anymore. I'm NOT a child." Oh, my mistake. I was under the impression 12 was the official cut off for the child label. Another of her gems to prove she is not a child? The constitution last night that she WOULD be America's Next Top Model when she turns 18, after which she goes on to tell me two girls at the renaissance fair stared at her and told her she was "so pretty." Her head may be a little big.

As fun as the kiddos are, it's nice to get a little break from them every weekend when they go to their dad's house. I am definitley enjoying that time now before the baby comes since I won't be able to just send this one to his dad's. It's karma for me teasing my sister that she never gets alone time because she refuses to divorce her husband. Karmic retribution. Now, however, their father just informed me that he may take on a job as a truck driver. Uh oh. Full time parenting. It's been years since I've had them the full week. And then there were three. Needless to say, life is about to get a lot more interesting over at my house. Thank goodness for J though. Since I've been prego my energy level has dropped immensely. When they say you get energy in the 2nd trimester, I am not part of that 'you'. He cleans the kitchen every day, sweeps, feeds the animals and checks homework. All while I watch from the comfort of the couch with half closed eyes. I'm not mad about it.

One thing's for sure, I need to get a bigger house and a bigger car. The kids, especially the genius, no longer fit comfortably in my CR-V. I may have to break down and buy a mini-van. Kids do get more expensive the older they get. And baby makes 3.

Adventures in pregoland

It’s official. I’m pregnant. With child. Bun in the oven. Knocked up. Almost 10 years later, on July 6, 2011, I will return to my misadventures in child rearing.

I never thought I’d be having another baby at this stage in my life. Having never wanted any kids, I shelved my dreams of running off to California to follow in Jack Kerouac’s footsteps to live my life on the beach, writing poetry and stories of my adventures, and instead embraced my new life as a mom. I raised, I reared, I disciplined. I have not yet conquered.

Eight years to go until freedom.

That is no longer the case. I guess that’s what happens when you have unprotected sex with your live-in boyfriend. You’d think I would have learned my lesson from the first two.

In all seriousness though, I am pretty excited about the baby. This time it’s different and I’m ready. With my son, I was 17, in my senior year and not the least bit ready. So naturally, I hid the pregnancy for about four months, at which time my mom saw my changing body and confronted me because ‘every mother knows’. I then had to deal with the stressors of being just another pregnant teenage Mexican, something which I’d worked very hard to avoid. Apparently not hard enough. No Mtv’s “16 and Pregnant” offering me money to tell my story. Nope, it was more like my orchestra teacher trying to keep me from performing so as not to influence the kids who looked up to me to get knocked up. I had a pink mohawk…I doubt I was much looked up to at the time. Not to mention the fact that the purveyors of my high school were already having unprotected sex and abortions long before I joined the ranks of the sexually active.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was in the midst of my roaring 21st year where I’m pretty sure I was drunk more often than I was sober. My ex and I were separated at the time and merely started sleeping together when his mom died of lung cancer. It was a very melancholy period and I decided that some vodka was in order…and apparently some sex. Note to self: it’s never a good idea to console someone with your vagina. It opens up a huge can of worms that’s better left tightly sealed. But alas, the universe had other plans for me. I was in a state of denial. I did not want to be pregnant. I was having way too much fun spreading my wings, so to speak. I mean, I had just gotten so good at drinking, no boy could drink me under the table. I was a champ at beer bongs and beer pong and waterfalls, oh my! I was dating, well, dating for a constantly drunken 21 year old girl whose favorite pastime was to prowl college parties for hot, young collegiate. The very last thing I wanted was another baby. Especially after my best friend gave birth to her baby four months before my due date brought back the memories of my previously painful and traumatizing birthing experience. Shortly after though, I said ‘see you later’ to my party ways and got ready for baby number two.

I am now a very strong believer in the everything happens for a reason school of thought.

This time, though it was, surprise, not a planned pregnancy, I’m at peace with the fact that I will now have three mini-me’s. I didn’t have to hide it from anyone. My party ways have long since left me since I no longer have the energy to get all gussied up for a night on the town, or rather, a night full of beer and instead traded it for nights in watching zombie movies with Jason and my pipe. So I don’t really feel like I’m missing anything, though I’m sure my friends are probably having way more fun than I am. I doubt that they are having as many crazy adventures as I am though. My life is never boring, that’s for damn sure. What with a 13 year old boy with out of control hormones and bouts of emo-ness and a 9 year old girl who thinks she’s in her 20’s and is learning how to skate board, breaking her first bone recently. An ex-husband who’s, well, a hand full. My mother living in my back yard and a sister who lives two houses away from me which grants me a bevy of teenage boys running in and out of my house and a cat who seems as though she is constantly in heat and who I’m pretty sure is trying to kill me. Yup, I’d say my life is never boring, as much as I would sometimes like it to be. So I feel as though I’m ready for this. Upon hearing the news Jason immediately started wondering if we would be able to ‘do this’. “Yes,” I replied, “It’s just a baby. No big deal, I’ve done this before.” With that being said, I will admit that I am a little scared. It has, after all, been almost 10 years since I’ve had a baby. Contrary to popular belief, it is not like riding a bicycle.

So I happily lay my fat, pregnant ass on the couch all day when I’m not working watching movies and eating food I know I shouldn’t be eating even though I crave it constantly. I’m pretty sure the baby will come out looking like a cheeseburger. I’m keeping a list of names I like and cleaning the house constantly when I have tiny bouts of energy that are few and far between. I’ll tell you what, being pregnant at 17 and 21 is a huge difference to being pregnant at 31. I’m older, more tired, more surly and have more aches and pains than my 66 year old mom. Plus, I don’t think I can handle bigger boobs. What’s the size after DD? Because that’s where I’m headed, and that is never a place I wanted to be. Ah, such is life.

Everything really does happen for a reason. And then there were 3.

Adventures of a once dark and cynical mistress

I've been real happy lately. So basically, I find that writing is a little harder for me now. Being that I drew on my dark, cynical and depressed nature for material which made it, in my opinion, witty, funny and dryly sardonic. That and the fact that I no longer drink, there are no more adventures in which I get shit housed, wake up next to a guy I barely know and therefor have some writing material, what with my gruesome feelings of loneliness and depravity. What have I turned into?!

I'm actually glad that things are going so well, though, regardless of my need for self loathing for writings sake. I just don't find my happy life as funny or interesting. I work, I go home, I hang out with the boyfriend, take care of the kids, get high, pass out, lather, rinse and repeat. It's weird, I went for so long being angry and hating life, and not because of my failed relationships and one night stands, though I do miss those...the one night stands, that is, NOT the failed relationships as I consider those the stepping stones to the awesome that I have since become. The excitement of meeting a new guy, dirty making out at the bar, dry humping in the parking lot, leaving a note thanking him for the hot sex and slipping out into the wee hours of the morning while he slumbers. Ah, good times. Now I feel the excitement when my boo sparingly decides he wants his D in my G. Oh how the times have changed.

In all seriousness, things are going well. After his stint in rehab and a couple of months readjusting to sober life, he seems to be standing up straight, so to speak, working and learning how to have fun without the aid of drugs or alcohol. I, on the other hand, still smoke to my heart's content. I can't help it, I don't sleep otherwise. And I just like getting high, guess I can't really church it up. I should probably put the pipe down for a while soon though, I feel my blonde roots showing through more and more even though I only smoke at night. My stoner retardedness has gotten the best of me lately. Also maybe a reason for the drop in blahging...I'm not up all night, feeble from insomnia and pissed off at the world for the lack of good late night television. Go figure. But I digress.

So the kids are doing real well. So well, in fact that my 13 year old sometimes emo, sometimes obnoxious giant of a kid has been invited and accepted into the National Junior Honor's society and has decided to enroll in a highly academic charter school for his duration of high school. The princess has been doing quite well for herself as well. While she rocks a faux hawk with confidence, as a result of a pesky and persistent lice problem, she's getting straight A's. Although it is quite easy to make straight A's in the 4th grade, she's doing so well her teacher gave her an A in writing, which she informed me she never does, and told me that she is basically a perfect student. Which made me wonder if she had the right kid. She's also playing the violin, which makes me so happy because I played it for many, many years.

Note to all the bitches whom have judged this book by it's cover: HA! My kids are awesome and well rounded and doing great in life in general. So suck on that.

The only thing that's missing is enough money to fully pay my own bills so I don't have to depend on the maternal unit so much. Though I see that light at the end of the tunnel as I've been busier at work and J has starting working a little more full time lately. So yay for that.

So my dark thoughts have been pushed back to the depths of my huge brain while happy thoughts fill the forefront and infect the rest of my mind with flowers and rainbows and puppies, oh my! I need to find a balance between darkness and happy. We'll see how that goes.

Now I must sit my happy ass at work for another 3 hours, after which J will take me shopping for a new hoody (i love hoodies more than shoes) and take me to a nice dinner. See?! Happy. Ugh.

xoxo

A search for...something

Oftentimes I wonder why I haven’t found myself yet. 31 and I feel like I am finally coming into my own, but how am I to know really. And the fact that I have to question whether or not I've found myself, whatever that means, also shows that I may have not found myself.

In my current relationship though, I feel more at ease and have easily fallen into the wife-mother-woman paradox, more or less, though the wife part is technically girlfriend but I feel as if I've now been married for 10 years! My first relationship was all first everything's so there wasn't much time to figure anything out. The second relationship was, well, I don't really know what that was. It was me on the rebound searching for someone to love me with stars in my eyes and blinders to cheaters on. Words falling out of an untruthful mouth upon trusting ears. That's what that was. This one, well this one has been a flurry of partying, hangovers, drugs and sobering up. So now is the good part where we can actually relax and just be in the relationship, so to speak. Basically, I couldn't be happier at the moment.

There is still something tugging at the back of my mind though. The loss of my self in all this mothering, girlfriending, managing shit.

Through all this "who am I" shit, I’ve figured out what my problem is. At the peak of my teenage-hood I was impregnated. It was the second semester of my senior year as I was really coming into my own. I graduated, 7 months pregnant, got married to my high school sweetheart and had my son. Three and a half years later, in the midst of our seperation, I became with child again.

Note to self: never console an ex over a dead relative with your vagina.

9 months later, my daughter was born. I was 22. Having just started on a sexual quest I was abrubtly shoved back into the screaming world of motherhood. Or at least more so than I was before. Strapped down with two kids and a husband, how is one to find what you want to be? You're hard to find amongst cries of “Mommy, I’m hungry!”, “Mommy wipe my ass!”, “Mommy, I want, I want, I want!” what’s a mother to do, but delve into the role the universe so obviously wanted me to star in and try, hard as it may be, to embrace it. Thirteen years later, as I write this, I still wonder, “Who am I?"

Although given that my youngest is almost in her double digits, age wise, I do believe that in 9, hopeully, short years I will be left to my own devices and my lifelong search for self as the kiddos embark on their own adventures in horrorland on a quest to find themselves.

All I can say is, I’m as lost as the rest of you, but I'm happy, so that counts for something, right? Right?

Rescue me

I'm bored. Bored with life, with work, with things in general. Not that I dislike my life, since things seem to be slowly, but surely falling into place. I think it's just the stress of everyday life that's boring me. I'm bored with stress. Though who's to say stress is fun. Entertaining at times, but never fun. The boyfriend and I are in a better place, he's doing well with his new found soberness. The kids are finally back in school, so my daily food supply has gone up and the daily knife fights between the kiddos has lessened. I'm working out daily and eating better, so I'm losing weight and feeling better about myself. But the stress is there. It's slow at work right now, the bad economy plus a slow season equals me sitting on my ass NOT getting paid to do nothing. On the plus side, I've gotten a lot of summer reading done. The slowness, however, corelates with the stressors of not having enough money to pay all my bills. Something I've come to become fond of, since I like having a phone, cable, oh, and a house to live in with electricity and water and gas. All silly things to want, but a necessary evil none the less.

I don't know. I feel lately like I'm aimlessly wandering through life with unseeing eyes. Nothing catching my attention for longer than 5 minutes. Like walking through a fog and catching a glimpse of a ray of light, but losing interest in looking for it after an unsuccessful 5 minutes.

::sigh:: I hate feeling like this. And good sex doesn't even seem to be quashing this feeling. That's when you know something's wrong with me...when a good romp in the sack can't pull me out of my emo-ness. Generally, there's nothing like a good shag to get me out of any funk. Guess this might be one of those things I might have to actually face head on to figure out what it is. Pshaw, who wants to do that? Not I, said the fly.

Before I bore myself to sleep with this boring blahg, I'll leave it at that. Ruts are not fun to talk about with the general public unless I know what the cause of said rut is. Until next time.

xoxo

Things and stuff and whatever

I used to think my brain was big. Huge even. Why would I think this? Because 90% of my cousins, along with the nickname 'cupcake', called me pumpkin head. Not like the movie, but because they said my head was so big. I have since learned that my head wasn't really that big but that I just hadn't grown into it. And in having a big head, I was under the conviction that I just had a really big brain. This may not be true. Currently, my mind is so overrun with random crap that my normal sized brain is filled to the brim. Here is a list of what is currently on this massive organ of mine.

1. Money: this is one thing that will never go away. Unless I start making a shit ton of it, in which case I'm sure I will become obsessed with making more, as I already am, just not as ambitiously. This being on my mind because I don't make enough of it. Supporting 4 people on my small, commission based income is no bueno. The bad economy and the slow summer months are definitely taking its toll. More and more of my clients are waiting longer between haircuts and colors, or no longer getting colors done by me, that it hurts. But, no use crying over spilled milk, I just gotta keep on keeping on (yes, I just said that...I may also be going crazy).

2. Excercise: I have started working out at an actual gym. No longer do my workouts consist of sitting on the couch wearing workout gear watching Charmed while saying I'm going to move my ass. And so far so good! I have lost 10.5 pounds, which I think is pretty sweet. 50 more pounds to go! One good thing I can say about excercise is that I get a mad rush of endorphins and feel kind of high, which helps since I no longer drink.

As I write this, my mind has gone totally blank! I really need to start writing stuff down when I think it so I don't have these problems. I could also probably get more sleep, stop stressing and lay off the pipe, then maybe I could finish a blog without feeling like an asshole since I thought I was so clever writing this and have to stop midway to say I feel like an asshole for forgeting what I'm writing about. Well, it probably wasn't that important OR clever anyway.

Ah, such is life in horrorland. Until next time.

xoxo

Adventures in old lady land

I am currently of the belief that I am experiencing a mid-life crisis. I am, however, not in mid-life. How does that work? I'm not really sure, but what I am sure of is that I am getting restless. The problem is that I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be at the ripe ole age of 31. Published novel? Sure. Traveling the world? Normal. Has any of that happened? No. I am well aware of how many people my age and even older, are in the same predicament...however, I am only worried about myself for the moment.

While I hold a management title at my salon, I'm not very busy, as a stylist that is. While in the midst of the hellish summer months, most people flee the state for cooler pastures. Snow birds fly north for the summer while the ASU students find their ways back home with laundry baskets brimming and a break from the busy season of partying, otherwise known as education. Not to mention the shitty economy we are suffering, my income is less than a teenagers first job, Not fun. That stacked with my mounting stressors and a recently turned teenage boy and a 9 going on 30 year old girl, the chaos has brought me to my knees succumbing to what, in my mind, is a mid-life crisis.

And yes, I do understand that in order to go through a mid-life crisis, you have to be middle aged. I, however, have convinced myself that since I had the genius at the ripe, young age of 18, that pushes me up to middle age status. My tremendous amount of white hair should also be a factor. Ok, I exaggerate sometimes, doesn't mean I don't feel that I have way too much white hair for a 30 something, hot young mother.

This is exactly why I was of the "I don't wanna grow up" mantra growing up. I knew that getting older, while holding some likable benefits, really is a huge pain in the ass. I mean, besides the bills, raising kids and that whole being responsible thing, I don't see a whole lot to look forward to. At least until after my 60's since I'll have already gone through menopause and will be retired. Oh, and my kids will be grown, and hopefully, out of my house.

Ah, such is life. I think my biggest problem at the moment, besides rapidly growing older, is that I complain too much. Try as I might, I can not find the bright happy sunshine light at the end of the tunnel everyone around me is telling me to look for. Maybe a big decision I'm trying to make will help relieve my stress/bitchiness, at least a little.
Until then, yours truly, Malice in Horrorland

What is yet to come

Wow, it's been a minute since I've been on here. Truth be told, I got a little lazy with the whole blogging thing, mainly because I haven't had internet for some months now. I know, I know, I could have taken my lazy ass to a library, coffee shop or McDonalds for the free wifi, but the thought of sitting there blogging just makes my skin crawl. At the moment, I still don't officially have the net at home, but I can, however, sit in my increasingly hot back yard to catch a signal. For some strange reason (read: my house is brick) I can't get a signal anywhere in my house...but 5 feet from the back door? Sure, I get all the signal I need. So I have recently decided to suffer through the hell that is Arizona and happily type my sweaty ass off for the sake of my one loyal reader. Hey, I'm just realistic. Well, I will be revamping soon, meanwhile, I'm fighting with photoshop with an image I had Jason draw up for me for http://www.cafepress.com/porvida, Check it out. I'm trying my hand at the wonderful world of entrepreneaurship. Maybe I should try my hand at the wonderful dictionary so I can learn how to spell, because I'm pretty sure I fucked that up. Ah well, such is life, I'm overworked, under payed...blah blah blah. So after my battle with photoshop, I've decided to revamp this lil' page cause it's about damn time. I apologize for the clusterfuck of words, I'm just not in the mood to be literarily correct. So have a great night and we will chat soon. I promise...dad.

Life at the moment

It has been quite a while since I've been on here. What have I been up to as of late, you may ask? And by you, I mean the one person who still reads this every 6 months when i deign to write something. I've been up to not a whole lot. Mostly work. And making stuff, still. I've decided I need to get back to blahgging and writing because my creativity has gone down the toilet and I need to fish it out, so to speak. I also need to get my ass on the ball with my wedding head pieces so I can make some much needed money. Wow, I feel real boring right now. But I don't really have a lot of time at the moment, so this will be short and sweet. And...the end.

More adventures in horrorland

At the moment, I’m feeling very bored with my life. I have no idea why, since my life is always one “adventure” after another. The most recent of adventures I am going to embark on is getting evicted from my very first, on my own apartment. So that’s fun. What can I say? I’m trying to be positive about the whole thing. I was irresponsible and didn’t really have the money to afford it, so I’m out. I’m actually surprised they didn’t kick me out sooner! So I go to court tomorrow to officially get booted, but not before I give my reasons as to why I got so behind, of which I have none. At least no real good reason. What does all this mean? It means me amping up my plan to get a house. It’s funny because I’ve noticed in my life that when I have a plan for something, I never actually get to execute said plan on my own, I’m always pushed into it by outside forces. Go figure.
I recently applied for and got the assistant manager position at my salon. I’m pretty stoked about it. I wanted to be a manager but I didn’t want to leave this salon because I like the girls, well most of them anyway, and frankly I don’t like change. So I bided my time until I could charm my way in. And the manager here is great (kissing ass never hurt) so I’m really happy about it. There is a girl here though who doesn’t like me because she thinks I “narced” her out when she left early one night, when really I told her she had to call the manager and ask her if she could leave early, so I was surprised when el jefe asked me why she had left early, and I told her. I don’t need to lie for anybody, I’m a bad liar, as she well knows. I don’t even lie for my friends here at work. If you’re not here, you’re not here and it shows on our books, so yeah, if this girl thinks I’m going to lie for her ever, she’s retarded. She keeps talking about her “concerns” for me being a manager. She was in shock because blah blah blah. Work dram, never a good time.
The genius started junior high this year. I’m still not over it. The other day when I dropped him off at school there was a channel 15 news camera there asking parents questions about I don’t even know what. They skipped me. He probably thought I was Shawn’s older sister what with all my tattoos, piercings and shocking red hair. The mistake happens. A lot. He actually got carded with me one day when I was buying beer! The woman looked at us both like we were retarded for thinking we could get away with the purchase of alcohol, “I.D.’s please,” she said snootily. Shawn and I just looked at each other, I looked back at her and explained that he was only 12 and my son, so he doesn’t have identification besides his school card. She looked at me like I was lying, snootily retorted that she then needed to see my drivers license, which I promptly handed her, as she sneered. She looked at the i.d., looked at me, looked at the i.d., looked at me then handed it back with a smirk on her face. Hey, last time I checked, you work at circle k cashier lady, so don’t be a judger. Yes, I had my son young, but I still don’t look like I’m anywhere near under the age of 21 and yes, I am old enough to have a 12 year old. Oh the joys of parenthood. The princess is a different story. She gets mouthier and frostier with every passing day. Everyone says she’s just like me, so I guess I can’t really say anything other than, sorry mom! Is there a program where we can send our pre-pre-teen daughters away until the age of 18? Sign me up.
I am still, surprisingly, in a relationship. And with the same guy. Who knew I could make it past the 6 month mark. We’ll be at 9 months in a few short days. Weird how I even remember the date I decided I wanted to be “exclusive”. The reason I say ‘I’ is because he asked to be official 2 ½ weeks into dating, and I hesitated because I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing, so I distracted him from me saying no by having more sex with him. I fully expected to lay him a few times, maybe for a couple of weeks then move on. Damn his charming nature. So I say remembering the date is odd for me since I don’t even remember the date I got married. Maybe this date was just more important since it is an actual adult relationship. Who really knows. The whole thing confounds me anyway. As do most things.
So off I go to, hopefully, straighten my shit out so my adventures aren’t full of too many twists and turns, but I draw the line at balls.

Story of my so-called life...lately

I’m bored today. I’m at work, and I think I would like doing hair more if there was hair for me to do. I don’t even have anything valid to say, I’m just so bored that I decided to blahg since I haven’t done it in over a month I think. I fear I’m going through a writer’s block period. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve been real lazy and don’t write as often as I should. I know ya’ll are just dying from not having my usual pearls of wisdom to read or from not being able to live a glamorous life vicariously through me. Oh wait, my life was never glamorous. My total bad.

I think that’s all I have to blab about. Um, let’s see. I got a new tattoo.

That’s exciting. At least for me, I feel the pride of having just run a marathon when I actually get the bf to tattoo me. He says it makes him nervous and he hates hurting me…even if I’m asking for it. Weird.

What else, what else. My life has been boring lately. My mind just addled with my mounting financial problems. I mean, who knew that being an adult and having to pay your own rent would be this hard when you don’t make any money? Apparently not me. I have, however, gotten off my lazy ass so to speak, and started making more hair accessories, as requested by some people that are actually willing to give me money for my crafty wares.

If I can get a credit card I’m going to put them on etsy.com for sale. Maybe I can rustle up some money to help me actually pay my rent. Weird that my landlord wants money in exchange for me living in his apartment. What’s that word for when someone lives somewhere and doesn’t pay rent? Oh yeah, squatter.

Work has been so-so at best. Working on commission is apparently not a good idea when you’re a single mom. I have good clients, but with the whole world financial crisis hub bub they come fewer and far between, unfortunately for me. In July I will be styling a girls’ hair for a calendar shoot she’s doing, so that’s cool. Maybe I can talk some other girls to pay me to do their hair. After all, I love styling 50’s style pin up hair. I can’t wait for my hair to grow out so I can style it like I used to with the 50’s curl in my bangs, which I got made fun of mercilessly by most people because it wasn’t the “cool” thing to do like it is now and I often got told I should put a surfer cause it looked like a wave and at some times a bird in my “nest”. I thought it looked pretty and that’s all that matters. Ok, I’m done with my 5 second girl hair moment.


I guess that’s going to be it for now. I have nothing really interesting left to say and I always feel like my blahgs should be witty and clever but I don’t feel very witty or clever today. So before I bore all ya’ll to tears, I’ll end it here. Although, I’m bored to tears and since misery loves company…Nah, I’m done. I get to leave this twilight zone never ending day soon to go to a baby shower and mama needs to put some food in her belly first. So off to Cheba hut…I hope.

Adventures in Hairland...a rant

I don't understand why people insist on bringing in their kids, or their whole family for that matter, into the salon when they get their hair cut. The kids are always the brattiest, most annoying kids and the families usually want to sit around the person getting the cut so then we, the stylists, have to walk around them, or they bump into you mid-cut because they want to take up all the space around them. It's like the clients are scared to come in alone. We don't bite. Unless specifically requested. And even then its more on a case by case basis. So find a babysitter or send your family members to the Dollar Tree next door, take 15-30 minutes out of your time to come in alone. I promise you won't disappear and turn up in a dumpster somewhere.

The worse is when a woman comes in for a color, perm or anything that takes at least an hour and they bring in the bratty kids or crying baby. If you can't find a babysitter, wait to come in when you can. I have kids and I do not subject the public to their brattiness, not that they're bratty, they're actually very well behaved, unlike most kids, but that's a completely different rant in its own. Oh yeah, and the people that do this are usually low tippers, so not only did I have to cut/color your hair with your demon spawn crying and standing in my way, you only gave me $1-$3 for my services of having to deal with your complete lack of parenting and disciplining skills. Thanks. Please do not come again.

Another thing I don't like is cutting kids hair. The majority of kids cry or scream or fidget or won't let you direct their heads where you need them. These are always the kids that have picky parents. You know, the ones that want a 0 fade on their squirmy 2 year old. It's hard enough to do that on an adult. But the picky parents want what they want but refuse to take the kid to a kid friendly salon where they get to sit in cars and watch cartoons. No they bring them into a full service salon and comb the kids hair while I'm trying to finish the cut. Not to mention spoke about the last stylist who cut the kids hair and what an awesome job they did. Well, if Crystal did such a great job then why don't you request her next time instead of ruining my night. Also maybe next time let me know that Crystal used clippers on the cut last time, and maybe make note on what clipper guard Crystal used that way I'm not playing the guessing game. Next time just take Crystals card so I don't have to talk to your annoying face. Can you guess I've had my night ruined by just such a picky mom?

Life

You know you're spending too much time with your boyfriend when you're watching a movie, spot a camel toe and freeze frame to show him. This also shows that I also spend way too much time with boys since my weekly movie night is spent with the boyfriend and the brother. I often make comments about being a a fifteen year old boy trapped in a girls body. I said that to a male client the other day and he responded, "Wow, you must be really horny." Weird. Then he gave me a ten dollar tip. On a side note, the boyfriend is coming with me tomorrow to meet my dad for the first time. Him, not me. I've already met my dad. I'm a little nervous though. All the issues I have with commitment, meeting my dad is serious. At least in the relationship department. It'll be all good, I know they'll love each other. Que sera, sera.

Whores, queers and more

I often pride myself on my confidence and how secure I am with myself. But sometimes there are women that I believe are put here on Earth just to make us feel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Currently for me that girl is the boyfriends chick he dated before we started dating. I don't know what it is about her but I just hate her and I've never even met the girl. It's just everything about her that bothers me...not to mention the fact that she seems like that girl that doesn't give a shit if he has a girlfriend or not. Oh and the fact that she texted him a topless picture of herself a few days before my birthday. I think I just put my finger on why I hate her so much. Girls like that should just be shipped off to a deserted island with all the other cast off whores. Now THAT would make the world a better place.

As the kiddos get older, I've noticed some of the conversations I have with them are more and more like the convos I have with my friends. The other day the princess and I were watching tv and she kept sayin, "That is SO gay." "OMG (yes she actually says that) that person is so gay." "That song is so gay." "Why do you think everything's gay?" I asked her. "Well I just think it's gay, a.k.a. stupid," she replies as if I don't know. "Well not everything has to be gay. Maybe you're gay." "No mom, I'm not gay because then I would have to like girls. And, like, I like girls, but not like that." Oh, ok, I wasn't sure about what that whole gay thing meant. Oddly enough the next day I was talking to the genius and asked him if he liked girls yet. The ex is convinced that he was checking out our friends' 12 year old daughter. So naturally a mother gets curious, and a mother like me is nosy and asks about it. "No mom, I DON'T like girls yet."
"Oh, well do you like boys maybe?"
"Ew mom! I'm not GAY!"
"Well it's not that big of a deal if you are, I just want to know."
"I'm not gay, I just don't like girls yet. But I will when I'm older."
He told me!

I've recently decided I need to become more ambitious in my business dealings. If not to be successful, to actually be able to pay my full rent on time. I like making my own hair accessories and I've recently gone to the extent of finding the weirdest things to put in my hair, one of which is feathers, a teeny cowboy hat and a mini humming bird, to name a few. A friend of mine suggested I sell some of my hair baubles on etsy.com and I figured it'd be a good idea to sell some of my other random art type things I like to make. We'll see how that turns out. On the hair cutting front however, I'm getting motivated more and more everyday. While I don't plan on this being my absolute career for the rest of my life, I would like to make the most of it for at least the next 10-15 years of my life. Recently one of the managers was demoted. So what does that mean for me? If I get my shit together, a.k.a. as the princess would say, come in on time, stay all day, don't pass up clients, etc., etc. I can hopefully advance in this company. A chance for advancement is a little more motivating than coming in and sitting here for 8 hours and only getting about 4 haircuts. Management? Now that's the way to go. I'm getting too old to fuck around anymore and it's time to get this party started. And by party, I mean my career.

I guess we'll see what happens with everything. I just need to do and stop with the procrastination. This little girl is growing up...finally. Reluctantly.

Things

Things I am a fan of in 2009:

1. Buying tv series' on dvd.

2. Never thought I'd say this, but my boyfriend. He's pretty cool, or whatever.

3. My baby nephew. Again, I never thought I'd say this, but I actually like this baby.

4. Sleeping. This is just a carry over from 2008, but I actually get it now. And I never want to live without it again!

5. Listening to 80's hair band and 90's grunge music...and my kids knowing the songs from the first chords.

Things I am not a fan of in 2009:

1. Waiting in line at Wal*Mart to cash my check since I'm now ghetto and don't have a bank account, only to have them tell me they can't cash it for reason #2. Reason #2 is not an explanation and I have to call a stupid phone number to find out why they won't just give me the damn money!

2. Not having any money.

3. Working nights.

4. Not having gone on a vacation...yet.

4. Being an adult. I've turned 30 this year, and while I don't feel old, what with my maturity level of a 15 year old boy, I'm starting to feel all responsible and shit. I don't know how I feel about that.

5. My baby boy growing up and soon venturing into the 7th grade. THE SEVENTH GRADE! How did that even happen? Tonight he's spending the night and the grungy skater, popular kids' house and last weekend he went on an out of town trip with another kid. His first trip without his father or I. ::sigh:: ::tear:: I don't know how I feel about that either.

There are so many things right now, those are just my top 5. And mostly just the ones I actually can think of right now. Marijuana affects the memory.

Good bye to you

When I turned 20, my friend Jenna and I decided to throw a slumber party. Complete with hard liquor, weed and a stripper. I insisted that it not really be a party for me, per se because I didn’t want to get a lap dance. Strippers make me a little uncomfortable. I would welcome presents, however, because who am I to turn down a gift. She called the stripper hut to order a hot guy to take his clothes off for us. We had a choice between a Mexican with green eyes or a blond hair, blue eyed Aryan. I wanted the Mexican because even though I’m more into white guys my very first major crush was a friend of my cousins who looked like a Chicano Elvis with green eyes. They’re always hot. She vetoed me and chose the Aryan.When he showed up dressed like a dollar store cop, I lost it and could not stop laughing. Not to mention that he had a lazy eye. Not the hottest jalapeno in the bunch. Then came the news that, “Surprise!” it was a party in celebration of my birth. A chair got pulled up to the middle of the room where I was forced to sit, much to my chagrin. The music started. ‘Bad to the bone’ was his song of choice and he started to gyrate and wiggle his hips in front of me while whisper-mouth-singing along with the tape (yes, I said tape). It took all I had to not laugh in this guys face. I was NOT into it. Finally my ‘birthday surprise’ came to an end so I anxiously passed my reign over to the rest of the girls. The whole thing was awkward. I’m convinced it was mostly due to the fact that the guy was somewhat retarded. You know, like a high functioning retard. But I digress. Dial-a-stripper asked if there was somewhere he could change so we pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. When he came out, my jaw dropped and I started laughing so hard. He had traded the cheesy cop costume with a pair of stone washed overalls with a ‘wife beater’ underneath, one of the overall straps hanging loosely down his front and untied black combat boots with the pant legs tucked in them. Just turn around and walk away the little voice in my head told me, so turn around and walk away I did. I made my way to the back patio where most of the other girls were smoking and plopped down with relief. The second I cracked open my beer the back door opened and out sauntered hookerello in his Fresh Prince of Bel Air outfit. He takes the seat between my friend and I, takes a swig of one of our beers and says, “You girls don’t mind if I have a beer do you?”
“Well it looks like you already have so I guess it doesn’t really matter what we say,” I stated.
We continued on with our riveting conversation on who knows what as we passed the bong around. As the bong was coming my way lazy-eye grabs it from my friend and rips it. He then turns to her, leans in and tries to shotgun his hit to her. For the few of you who don’t know what “shotgunning” is, let me explain: it’s when someone takes a hit of weed, or what have you, out of another persons mouth, respectively. She immediately shrinks away from him as he’s trying to pry her lips open with his. He laughs, “Hey, somebody shotgun me!” The girls just look around at each other with a look of contempt as he cashes out another bowl. He turns to me and leans in for the kill. I backed up, threw my hand up in his face and said, “Get the fuck away from me right now!” I’m generally a shy and reserved person behind the loud mouth. I don’t like confrontation, but when pushed too far…That was a whole decade ago. In between then and now my twenties have been colorful to say the least. My 21st birthday was spent during an entire weekend in which I was completely shit housed and high…like super high since I smoked out of a 4 foot bong. Needles to say that weekend is vague, at best. Between the ages of 20 and 21 are vague, at best. It’s when the ex broke up with me for the first time and I discovered that there are other boys in the world that I could have sex with. Something that never occurred to me until my best friends pretty much opened my eyes when they were so surprised that I had only slept with one guy who I ended up marrying. Thus opening up a huge can of worms that I may have finally closed the lid on. Half way through my 21st year however, I’d started to sleep with the ex again since his mom died and what better way to comfort him than with my vagina. I’d learned that the power of the vagina is vast. So after the baby came I was back with the ex from about 2001-2005ish. That was nothing but boring married life. Then came the divorce (read: separation of the dvd’s). After that it was pretty much me in a candy store full of boys and I had a major sweet tooth. Just a blur of debauchery.

Now here I am staring 30 straight in the face.At which point I will end this blahg here since I seem to have a case of the Mondays and am not really in the mood for reminiscing anymore. Though I will say this, the last few years of my 20’s really sucked, but I did end them with a bang and started them off right. I just hope I stay on this track of awesome and 30’s really are the best times of my life as so many people have often told me. I guess all I can really do is impatiently wait and find out.

Ode to Monday

Ever have one of those days where you just aren’t in a good mood? I’m having one of those days today. Some might call it a “case of the Mondays”. Some might also want to get punched in the face.

One thing about me is I’m generally in a chipper mood, always smiling and nice with just a slight (read: heavy) undertone of sardonicism. But every once in a while, I’m just in a mood when I don’t want to smile, I don’t want to incessantly chatter as I often do. I just want to be…left alone. However, my often sunny attitude does not allow me a bad mood day. There’s only a couple of times a month where I feel the need to be in a bad mood and not hide it behind a big smile, but on those days someone who already annoys me finds a way to make it worse by telling me to smile or asking me what’s wrong. Can’t I just be in a bad mood? Normally I’ll shrug it off and say I’m tired or have a headache just so I can avoid the infuriation, but today was not that day. When my manager told me to smile, I simply replied with a catty “Why?” I just didn’t feel like fucking around. Later she came and asked me what’s wrong.
“Nothing. I’m just in a bad mood.”
”Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”
Now that kind of shit pissed me off more. If I’m mad at you, you’ll know it. So don’t ask me if I’m mad at you. Boo.

This day is almost over though, so that makes it better. A little closer to the birthday extravaganza. I’m off all next weekend, so maybe I’ll be over this infliction of the Mondays next week. Though who really knows how this moody bitch will feel. One can never tell, not even me.

On a side note, my dad received 2 awards this month. One of them being a lifetime achievement award. I am so proud of him. He's a great writer, poet and playwright. You should check him out (Joe Olvera) for some good reading.

My so-called life...thus far

I'm currently at work rescuing my hair from yet another bad hair day. Doesn't seem like something I would normally worry about, but being in a new relationship does that to you...or so I've heard. I haven't been in one for about three and a half years. I don't really call the last guy I "dated" for 4 months a relationship since he didn't want to be my boyfriend but got all girly pissy at me when I slept with another guy. Pshaw, go figure. But I digress. My hair has not been cooperating with me lately and I'm real tempted to just shave it off. Not Britney Spears G.I. Jane shave it off, just normal like I did 2 years ago shave it. This is why my hair is always short. Lately I also feel like I have to look my best ALL. THE. TIME. I'm not one of those girls who wakes up before the boyfriend and freshens up her make-up and puts on the sexy lingerie, in fact, I often don't wear make-up around him. I have good skin for a reason. But he wears nice suits 90% of the time so I can't go looking all scraggly with my hair and clothes. The problem with my clothes is that I don't have enough nice ones to keep up with him.

blah blah blah

At this moment I'm having a girly-on-my-period kind of mood. Have I ever mentioned that I hate being a girl about 98% of the time? My 15 year old boy mentality doesn't help that.

Speaking of 15 year old boys. I will be turning 30 in exactly 4 days. It's weird. However, I like to think I'm pretty much the same as I was 15 years ago. Gone are the micro minis and band shirts I'd wear with a garter belt holding up my stockings with cherry red 18 hole Doc Martens on my feet. I no longer carry a plastic lunch box as my purse filled with Marlboro Mediums, dark burgundy lipstick and little girl, brightly colored plastic hair clips shaped like bows and butterflies. Not to mention the chain I wore around my neck. I've replaced the minis with pencil skirts, the docs with wedge heels, the lunch box with big purses and the dark lipstick with chapstick. I classed it up a little in my "matured" age.

I don't really feel old, per se, since I have the mentality and maturity of a 15 year old boy, it's the having a pre-teen child that makes me feel old. Even though I'll still be real young when he graduates high school and still young when the princess graduates (read: under 40, barely) I find it daunting. I've often been asked if I'm going to have another kid. To which I usually reply with a vigorous head shake and a look on my face like someone just told me I was going to be locked up in a 10x10 room with no chapstick, water, weed or tv (read: my 4 basic food groups) for a month. The boyfriend even said something about "our baby" the other night, to which I replied, "We have a baby?". "Someday," he said. Someday as in probably not gonna happen? Then yes, someday. As much as I love the guy, I'm still pretty reserved since I've had a few people let me down (read: fuck me over) in the past, so baby talk is probably a little premature, not to mention moot.

Who knows what the future is going to bring though. I try not to look too forward for fear I might stumble (read: disappointment). Es mi vida loca.