My 15 seconds of rock stardom

Last Thursday, I decided that I wanted to hang out with the wife before she ditched me yet again to go to Vegas. I only wanted to go out for a minute and have one, MAYBE two beers. Usually when I say that, I end up getting shitfaced and staying out way too late. I think you can see where this is going.

I though we were going to hip up Jupes or Pub n Grub, a couple of our usual haunts. I got the text that we were heading to O'Kelleys. My karaoke haven. I've gotten to the point now where I can sing without having drank a lot first. I sang my first of the night...Patsy Cline's Walkin' after midnight. Next was Billy Ocean, which was more of a fun song being that Lornzilla and I barely knew the words. As I was waiting for my next song, the dj made an announcement. O'Kelleys was holding a karaoke contest. I pshawed...there's no way I'm good enough to win a contest...especially since I currently sound like a tranny, what with my consistently deepening voice. Then she announced the grand prize. An all expenses paid trip to Cabo. F'n F'yeah. I entered. It's an 8 week dealio, but I wasn't paying attention, so that's about all I heard. I submitted my contest song, Belinda Carlisle's Heaven is a place on earth. I was first on the list. Angela told me I needed to engage the crowd, but I just started singing by myself and can only have fun with the crowd while drunk. One shot of liquid courage please. I sang my little heart out. 11 other singers later, she announced the winner. You guessed it, me. Lil ole' me won the karaoke contest!

Needless to say, I was pretty stoked. Watch out for the Mal world tour, coming to a town near you.

The way it goes

Lately I've been in somewhat of a feisty, savage sort of mood. Saturday, as per usual, we were sitting at Casey's. Generally I just sit and make fun of people and their stupidity and/or their stupid outfits. But this time, I was in the mood to fight...sort of. I'm pretty much too old for starting fights, but its not to say I won't finish one. One girl in particular was getting on my nerves. Not because I could hear her acenine stories. Or because she looked at me wrong. But because of what she was wearing. Tied around her head was a headband that looked sort of like a silk tie a hippie threw up all over. This isn't the bad part (at least in my eyes). It was tied around her head old-nerdy-fat-guy-trying-to-look-cool-at-the-gym-circa 1984 style. It looked ugly. And in my drunky stupor I had decided that someone, if not me, had to bring her attention to this horrid fashion DON'T. At one point, on my way back to my table from the bathroom I walked behind her. My hand reached up. I was actually going to pull the atrocity off her head for her. The wife pulled on my hand harder and sped me away. Damnit. So close, yet so far away.

I'm just over everything right now. Is it possible for me to get any more cynical? Why yes. Yes it is. I think a lot has to do with all these dreams *ahem* nightmares I keep having about the little ex-bf. Ugh, why can't exes just die when you're done with them, then they can't have a life after you. And you won't have to think about them ever again. Once again I ask, why is it the ones that you were too good for and were wrong for you are the ones that fuck you up the most?

Oh well, I'm doing new things. I'm in the process of finding a house. Yay to living on your own. Also trying to procure and keep some writing jobs. I'll see how that goes. Trying to get some supplies together to make and peddle my wares at some local shops/boutiques. We'll see where that takes me.

Everyday though is a little closer to the end of my tenure at school. Thank gawd. I'm so over it. Tomorrow we have resumes due. Fuck it. I'm so not in the mood to do it. My instructor PISSED me off today. I am currently in fiery passion hatred mode for her.

When I'm president of hell...and I know I'll get it because well, those of you who know me know also because I'm student body president and that helps...she is SO going to be the minion who wipes my asshole with her hand after I drop a deuce. And I don't mean with toilet paper. With her actual hand. And she can't wash it for eternity. Let's see her be a bitch to me now.

Miss Kitty Fantastico? More like Miss Kitty Bitchtastico. Take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

Oh you know...whatever

It's almost that time again. Yes folks, back to school. There's just something about back to school. The promise of fall. Of leaves turning sunset shades of orange and yellow. Leaves crunching under your feet as you make your way to new beginnings. Wait, for a second I thought I lived in a state where there are actual seasons.

Back to school for me always meant new things to learn, new things to experience. New books, new paper, new school supplies. I LOVE school supply shopping. Back to school also meant new clothes. And not hand me downs. Not yard sale clothes. But department store clothes. It was the one time a year where we got to rummage through BRAND NEW clothes. Where we got to try on, and pick out, brand new shoes.

Now, it's all about taking my kids shopping. Though it seems that I am way more excited about it. Especially where the genius is concerned. I have two choices when it comes to him: 1. I can pull the mom card and force him against his will to spend hours in a boring store trying on countless outfits, pairs of shoes and embarrassingly holding pairs of underwear up to his waist to see if they'll fit his ever growing ass. Or 2. I can be the cool mom and just go buy him one outfit, make him try it on, and from that, buy the rest of his back to school wardrobe. I think I'll opt for number one. My life as a teenage mom would have been for naught. I mean, if I have to have kids and somewhat conservatively mold them into good little citizens, I'm going to have fun. Hey, I have to entertain myself somehow.

Random randomness

First order of randomness: I don't know why, but I've been thinking about an ex a lot lately. Not THEE ex (read: my baby's daddy), but the mistake ex. Why is it that the ones you know you're better off without are the ones that fuck you up the most? I know, KNEW, deep down that I deserve better, and he deserved his kind, but still, as I'm driving down the road singing along to Patsy Cline, I find myself getting a little sad. Maybe that's my problem. I've been listening to too much Patsy. That's it, I'm changing cd's. Maybe that will take care of that problem. I sure hope so. Because these feelings of inadequacy for being dumped by a w.t. rep isn't good for my soul. Patsy, you're out, Pixies, you're back in.

School, school, school. I am consumed. And right now, I'm behind. In my book work that is. So what am I doing about it? Blahging. Currently we're learning about anatomy and physiology. Last I checked, I was in beauty school, not med school. Skeletal system projects. 27 pages of detailed notes. Extremely hard tests. Smack my bottom and call me Dr. Kitty Fantastico. No more miss.

On more school news, I know I've said it before, but being the student body president is hard...and a little stressful. Everyone comes to me with their "suggestions" (even though there is a suggestion box) about this or that, and frankly, contrary to popular belief, I'm a softy. It's VERY hard for me to say no to someone. I just want to make everyone happy. Trust me, that school of thought has gotten me into more trouble than it's sometimes worth. ATTENTION STUDENTS: Mal is a pushover. Don't get me wrong, if the situation calls for it, I can gather my balls up off the floor and take control, but in general, I aim to please. Just ask my retainers. Though honestly, I probably wouldn't trade it for anything.

In other news, I have reached new heights in my hair coloring abilities. I'm really pleased with myself and will, on the reception of my financial aid leftovers, be buying myself a fancy new camera so that I may take before and after pictures of my clients for my portfolio. I'm fortunate enough to get the type of clients who pretty much let me do what I want with their hair, so I need to take advantage of the experience. Sometimes they'll have certain colors in mind, but as far as the end result, no exact clarity. So that's where I come in. For me, it's like painting. I love cutting too, but color's where it's at. At least that's how I've built my clientele. I even have stolen clients from the school. Clients that have been going to that school for years, are willing to follow me to whichever salon I choose. Big pat on the back for me.

That seems to be it...for now. And by for now, I mean, that I can remember. I now leave you with these words of wisdom: live and let live...at least where I'm concerned.

Some people just shouldn't breed

This is seriously some fucked up shit. I don't even have anything sardonic or amusing to say to this. But I will say this, some people just shouldn't have babies. I think a dumbass sterilization bill should be developed. F'n idiots.

The thing of it is

Boy has this been a week. I've been non-stop crazy. May I still request my padded room with a view?

Not only have I been non-stop crazy, I've had a massive headache (read: brain tumor) and half insomnia. And by half insomnia, I mean that I get good sleep...the times that I actually DO fall asleep. Maybe that's why I have the massive headaches (read: brain tumor). Speaking of tumors, I have to have a conoscopy in two weeks. Basically to see if I have cervical tumors. Fun for me. I'm not really stressing about it too much, but it is something that has been on my mind. I just don't really want to do the procedure. I hate doctors, hospitals, dentists. Ick. We'll see what happens. The doctor said that it may not be anything, but we have to make sure. I guess that's what the giant camera that's going to get shoved up my vajayjay is for. Talk about a good time.

Besides all that, I like my job. It's fun and everyone is nice. Although it is hard work and my legs are STILL a little sore from work on Monday, but I'll get used to it. School has been even more busy for me, too. This Friday I'm double booked all day long. And they're all requests, so I won't refuse them. I guess everyone just wants a little Mal magic. But who doesn't, really.

I figured out today that I only have seventy days left of school. Can't. Even. Wait. Vacationitis isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

The thing of it is

Boy has this been a week. I've been non-stop crazy. May I still request my padded room with a view?

Not only have I been non-stop crazy, I've had a massive headache (read: brain tumor) and half insomnia. And by half insomnia, I mean that I get good sleep...the times that I actually DO fall asleep. Maybe that's why I have the massive headaches (read: brain tumor). Speaking of tumors, I have to have a conoscopy in two weeks. Basically to see if I have cervical tumors. Fun for me. I'm not really stressing about it too much, but it is something that has been on my mind. I just don't really want to do the procedure. I hate doctors, hospitals, dentists. Ick. We'll see what happens. The doctor said that it may not be anything, but we have to make sure. I guess that's what the giant camera that's going to get shoved up my vajayjay is for. Talk about a good time.

Besides all that, I like my job. It's fun and everyone is nice. Although it is hard work and my legs are STILL a little sore from work on Monday, but I'll get used to it. School has been even more busy for me, too. This Friday I'm double booked all day long. And they're all requests, so I won't refuse them. I guess everyone just wants a little Mal magic. But who doesn't, really.

I figured out today that I only have seventy days left of school. Can't. Even. Wait. Vacationitis isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

A funny thing happened to me on the way to adulthood

The genius just turned 10 on Monday. You know you're getting old when you have a ten year old. It's really weirding me out. I know I'm almost 30, but I never in the planning of my life did I imagine myself having a kid who's almost taller than me and who's going to hit puberty soon. Weird.

Me, the woman-child, with a kid in the double digits. I guess there are weirder things. I still remember the day he was born. My water broke at about 5:30 am and we headed to the hospital. The ex was disappointed because he didn't have to rush. He really wanted a movie moment where we speed race through red lights and such to get to the hospital. No such luck.

That day was probably one of the worst and one of the best days of my life. One of the worst because it was the most excruciating pain I'd ever felt...EVER. Ladies, if anyone ever tries to tell you it doesn't hurt, they're lying. It pretty much feels like your vajayjay is on fire and your insides are being ripped apart from within. I screamed bloody murder. And I'd never hated the ex more for putting me in such a horrendous situation. But when it was all over and I got to hold my huge 9 pound 7 ounce baby, it all seemed worth it...for a minute. Then the memories of the pain wash over you again. I still have flashbacks. It's like I was in 'nam.

But now here we are. A weird, giant kid whom most people think is my little brother, ten years later. It's weird to see him growing up. I wonder what he'll be like 10 years from now. I wonder if my parents were as weirded out by me growing up. It's all just weird.

Think I've overused the word 'weird'? Ya, me neither.

The ick factor

I'm house sitting for my sister this weekend. She has 5 dogs (two of which went camping with her) and I have to take care of them and their fish and their turtle.

So I arrive at her place tonight after an especially busy third day of work. I ran through the house to let the poor little guys out back (before taking off my shoes...don't tell her it's a secret).

After a few minutes I got up to let them back in. No one is allowed to wear shoes in her house. So there are a couple pair of their crocs at the entrance to the dog room. I put my left foot in one of the brother-in-laws' crocs. Next came the right foot. As I was stepping in, I felt something tickle my foot. Thinking it might be a hair or something similar I shook my foot...you know, to shake it off. I then felt the "hair" tickle up my ankle. I look down and see nothing, so I keep shaking my foot. It crawls up my leg. I frantically convulse my leg to shake off whatever is causing my panic. I feel wings flutter. Finally, it's off. I look down and see it. A big. Huge. Cockroach. It was the ick heard round the world.

I didn't know what to do. I absolutely HATE...and I mean hate with a fiery passion...cockroaches. The are disgusting little freaks of nature. Usually I make the closest boy kill it for me. But alas, I am all alone. I jumped up and down for a second or two trying to decide what to do. I decided I had to take action because there was no way I was going to be able to sleep with such a creature in the same house as me. I picked up a croc and very quickly, very forcefully smashed the roach.

I slowly lifted the shoe to make sure that I had, indeed, successfully killed it. It was smooshed to the ground. Although creepily enough still moving it's little head and antanae. I strategically placed the shoe back over the remains. There is no way I'm cleaning it up. I guess I'm just going to have to find a big, strong man to clean it up for me. Helpless isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Irritatedsville, population: Me

When I painstakingly write out an entire blog that's longer than five sentences (which doesn't happen often) and all of a sudden, it's gone. Poof. Just like that. I guess I wouldn't really say poof. I guess I would say that the cursor was on the 'x' from closing a second window and my finger grazed along the touch sensitive pad and closed the window. Meh, what's a girl to do. Nothing. Because hell if I'm going to write it all down again. Stupid apple iBook.

Whistle while you work

I got a job. Hallelujah. You are now looking at (reading?) the newest counter bitch at Club Tattoo. Save it, I know what most of you are thinking. You know who you are.

I'm excited that I'll finally be making more than $5 a day. Mama needs a new pair of shoes. Not to mention that I get free tattoos and piercings. I've seen a few of the artists custom work and it's really good. So irregardless of all the tattoo snobbery I'm surrounded by, I'm excited. I get to see my old best friend, money. Oh how I've missed him.

My not-so-great adventures in Horrorland

You can call me a bitch. You can call me a mom. You can call me bitchin'. But one thing you can't call me is graceful.

When I was in high school, when the ex and I had just started dating, I went looking through his backpack. Not for anything in particular, but just because I'm nosy like that. Besides, he was sitting right there, so I don't count that as snooping. As I flipped through the loose sheets of papers in his English folder, I glanced my name. I pulled the paper out and realized it was an essay (read: three four sentence paragraphs) written about yours truly.

I read through it against the ex's wishes and thought it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever written and/or said about me. Although one thing that caught my eye which I knew to be false was his analogy of me and the gracefulness of a cat. I laughed so hard when I read it and asked between fits of giggles if he even knew me at all. When asked to explain my utter lack of appreciativeness, I explained that I, in fact, was not as graceful as a cat. In all actuality I have the gracefulness of a bull in a china shop, so to speak. Maybe even worse, because while a bull in china shop merely breaks and ruins everything in its wake with clumsiness, I tend to hurt myself, usually pretty bad.

Severely sprained ankle. Sprained wrist and thumb. Busted knee. Torn meniscus. You would think all these injuries occured while doing roller derby. Or maybe some other sport. Well, you would be wrong. With the exception of the wrist. Everything else, in addition to an endless list of other such disablement, was the cause of me simply being alive. Sometimes, and I'm not even making this up, I fall over from just a standing position.

With all that said, here's a gander at my day. Upon waking, I got up to pee. I ran into the wall. That doesn't sound so bad since I had just woken up. As I was peeing I reached for the toilet paper...and hit my hand on the counter. Hit at just the right angle, it can bring tears to your eyes. Fast forward to my afternoon theory class...the aestetician doing a demonstration on facials wheeled her chair over my big toe...twice. Now there you would think that wasn't my clumsiness but her mistake. I assure you this would only have happened to me. This evening as I was walking out the front door in my platform flip flops, I stepped on and fell over three pairs of shoes...I ate shit. Now I sit here with a throbbing big toe, two scraped knees, a cut on my elbow and foot rubbed wrong by the canvas material on my flip flops. That's gonna leave a mark

Cumbersome is as cumbersome does, some might say. And by some, I mean me. Futile isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Sidenote: The genius has, in fact, inherited my gracefulness, or lack there of. Gawd help him.

An ode

"Daddy, how did you know I was a girl when I was born? Did I have tiny earings?"
How my dad laughed at that. Ask him and he'll tell you all about it. Over and over and over again. He'll also tell you how I used to say "I wanna do it my byself". If you can believe it, I was stubborn. Well read and well spoken by the age of three thanks to my pops, and I was still dyslexic when it came to certain phrases and naive as to the ways of the world. But he was always there to softly giggle and humor my beliefs.

Growing up, he was a columnist for the El Paso Times and the El Paso Herald Post, respectively. About twice a year he would write a story or other about me, his, at the time, youngest. Most children would shy away from and be embarassed about said articles. But surprisingly enough, not me. I read his column every day. And if there was even a smidge about me in it, I would rip the article out of the paper and take it to school waving it in the air for all to see and admire. "My daddy's a famous journalist!" I would say, chest swelled with pride, old articles crumpling with sweat in my little hand. "He likes to write stories about me on my birthday! I'm special!" I would brag to all who would listen, friends and strangers alike. I pretty much thought I was the shit.

An accomplished playwright, poet, opinionist and published author, he was recently named El Paso's very own journalistic icon. Using his words to paint pictures about a life in Mexico, to support Chicano Activism or simply to entertain. He is my dad. And I was, AM, proud.

Being the literary lothario that he is, he had high expectations for my sister and me. Though at times, they seemed higher for me. I would get grounded if any of my grades dropped below a C. However, C's were just as unacceptable as F's. He always told me I was smarter than the average kid. That I could do anything I wanted. Granted I attend college. Preferably an above-average university. I'd hoped of attending his alma matter Colombia. I wanted to be just like him. Traveled, relaxed, an intellect in his own right. Hearing about all his adventures and travels, I'd decided at a young age that I would travel. Experience life before I got tied down by the proverbial travails that are suburban America. My dad shared in my future dreams for me. He often told me that he always pictured his baby girl traveling the world, writing poems and basically just enjoying life.

Then came the day I found out I was pregnant. At the ripe young age of 17, I was terrified to tell anyone. Though completely lax in attitude, I still felt pressure from the expectations my family had of me. After telling my mom and sister, it was time to tell my dad. I. Was. Petrified. I cried and pleaded with my sister to not make me tell him. Or worse yet, for her not to spill the beans. We argued for about 20 minutes. "You have to tell him!" she said, "This is not something you can keep from him, he's your father!" To which I redundantly replied, "Why?! I can just be pregnant and he doesn't have to know. Ever. He's in El Paso, we're here! Don't make me tell him, please. He's gonna be so pissed!" I eventually relented at the behest of my sister. She dialed the number. "Daddy, I have something to tell you," I said somberly. When I broke the news, the floodgates opened. "How could you get pregnant mija?! You had so much going for you. Your life is going to be so hard." I involuntarily received a new ass hole. Four years later the second pregnancy wouldn't go over so well either. Lectures about how now being a mother of two and a housewife would make it even harder for me to go to college, get a degree, be a writer like I'd so wished. " I'll go to college daddy. I'll be a writer. I promise."

Twenty-eight years later, his baby girl is all grown up. A mother of a six year old girl and a soon to be ten year old son, I've somehow reached adult hood, no matter how immature I may seem at times. A writer in my own right, a soon to be licensed cosmotologist and most importantly, still a dreamer, I owe a lot of my wit, charm and sardonic humor to him. Granted, the other players in my life who made me who I am today are my mother and my big sister, but in different ways. Every time I talk to my dad is like sitting with Plato, Socrates, Chuck Pahlaniuk. At least in my eyes. So tonight I'll raise my glass to him. A little late on the sentiment, but you know me, better late than never, right. Happy Father's day daddy. Now I get to write stories about you.

How strange

The past few weeks have been strange, at best. Nothing too bad, but a little surreal, to me at least.

First we have the whole situation with the ex-psuedo bf. He's called me a couple of times, nothing too bad. Last night he woke me up because he "wanted to see" me. It was 1:30 in the morning and I had been in a very deep, drool inducing sleep. I caved and had him come over. We just talked, but we talked until about 2:30 or so. Needless to say, I overlept. Right through my alarm. I was so late to school. No more late night visists for me.

Today I ran my first student council meeting as El Presidente. Ambular (whom I miss severly) got terminated for two months and I moved up in student council rank. I think it went pretty well. After wards, I went into the new class to make some announcements and they were damn quiet. I made a joke and laughed. They stared. I asked if anyone had any questions. They stared. I made fun of someone. They stared. It was a little awkward. But hey, I remember what my first couple of days were like. Speaking of which, I have approximately only four more months to go. F'n f'yeah. Move over Sally Hershberger, make room for Mal Vicious.

That's all I can think of for now. My bladder is so full right now, it's about to explode, thus making it hard to concentrate (read: i'm doing the pee-pee dance right now).

Aneurysm bop

Stressed out. There's really nothing I can say right now that won't launch me into a 5 page long rant, so I won't say anything more than this. I'm not taking a 2 week leave from school like I so hoped. Hate my instructor. Presidential duties. Miss my sbff. Kinda don't wanna be single right now. Poop.

Take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

Update on my so-called life

School: school is slow. I need clients. So if you know anyone who wants a bitchin' hair style, send them my way. As much as I like to sit on my ass and do nothing, the day drags when there are no clients. Not only that, but my tip quota goes down.

Boys: I told the psuedo bf that we should just be friends. I'm kind of high maintenance. And he doesn't have room for me in his life right now. But of course, in true fashion, I'm jonesing a boyfriend. Go figure. Seriously, and any other boys I find are married. What's up with that?

Job front: I just had a job interview with Club Tattoo. I hope I get it. I needs to get paid.

Kiddos: The genius is going to be 10 in less than a month. TEN. Weird. I still can't get used to the fact that I have a kid so old.

I think that's pretty much it. Besides my random thoughts on racism, sexism, stupidity and idiocracy, its pretty much the same shit, different day scenario in my little horrorland. Take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

A brief history in Whoreland

Last week, my pants ripped at school. It could only happen to me. And I'm not talking about a little rip...I'm talking about a huge, from-the-top-of-the-pocket to the bottom of my ass rip. Were the pants too tight for my fat ass, you ask? No. They just decided to rip. Renee said it was a good thing I was wearing cute butt covering underwear. I said it was a good thing I was actually wearing underwear.

I've been super busy at school. SUPER BUSY. I'm tired. Oh so tired. So I've decided I'm going to take a two week leave of absence. I need the break. I had to try real hard to hold back tears on Thursday after my frustration over the perm I was doing took over. Maybe considering I'd already done a relaxer that morning, all the chemicals were getting to me. Cause I was stressed. So I' taking the couple of weeks to:
1. try and find a job
2. find somewhere for my kiddos to stay for the summer while I'm in school, and
3. try and find a place to hopefully, maybe move into by July. I have some shit to take care of. Plus, being uber stressed at school is making me not want to be there. As much as I love it.

And speaking of embarrassing things happening to me. This last Thursday, I was rocking it at karaoke. Angela and I were singing a duet, of course, on stage. As I jumped off the stage in my platform flip-flops, I landed on Angela's shoes, and in front of the whole bar, ate shit. But, being the graceful klutz that I am, I stood back up and kept singing while shooing an old man's hands from my ass. It was funny. Although my ankle is currently throbbing with pain and is swollen. Meh. Wouldn't be the first time.

I'm going to now try and finish off the week without embarrassing myself any further. A girl can dream, right?

As it goes

I am currently hanging out in my actual Horrorland. Things could be worse...I'm exaggerating a little...but I am choosing to be irritated by this list of woes.

1. I ran out of toothpaste and am having to use kids Colgate with Spongebob on the package...ick x 10
2. The mosquitoes (those bitches) are STILL feasting on my oh so sweet blood...it's no wonder I'm anemic
3. My bottom lip is still swollen...not too bad, but bad enough to be bothersome and hinder my speech

That is all I guess. Ya'll know me though, I'll find something to bitch about soon.

On a kid-note: This morning as I was getting ready for school, I heard the kitties go out to the backyard. As they came running into the room to brush their teeth, I noticed that the princess' hair was wet. I thought nothing of it...she sometimes wets it down or puts massive amounts of product to spike her hair. A few minutes later I saw her again and really noticed how wet it was. I asked her if she'd wet it down. The genius, of course, is quick to tell me that "she got it wet in the sprinklers! I told her not to!" I then noticed her shirt...sprinkled with water all over her shoulders. She stood there with a sheepish look on her little face as I asked what would posses her to do such a thing. She shrugged her shoulders.

Sometimes I wonder about my kids. They're funny. Obnoxious. Weird. Tall. Silly. Irritating. Cute. And maybe just a little crazy. I often find myself wondering what I got myself into.

Today was the last day of school. The genius will be in the 5th grade this fall. It still weirds me out to know I have such an old kid. And speaking of old kids...the princess will be in the first grade. FIRST GRADE. I no longer have any babies. I have two kids that will be in school all day very soon...too soon...and who will be taller than me, at least the genius, within the next year. Surreal isn't the correct term, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Eaten alive

I am officially a feeding ground for mosquitos. They. Are. Eating. Me. Alive. I may not have any blood left. I believe I am AB positive. Get those blood transfusions ready. Im just saying.

A smile is worth a thousand words

I've been holding the ex's laptop hostage the past few nights. And since I've been all alone at the wife's while I'm housesitting, I've had not much else to do other than cruise the net. Since I've been working (read: procrastinating) on my book, aptly titled "Adventures in Whoreland",I thought I'd cruise the infamous Craigslist to get other people's experiences, good or bad, with the whole net dating thing. Namely, men's experiences. All the research I have so far is female related, so I thought I'd gain a different perspective.

I started by posting an ad asking for anyone's tales in the sometimes unforgiving, sometimes scary world of online dating. Some of the responses I got. Man, some men are so desperate, it seems. Right off the bat, I got a always welcome (read: funny) cock picture. I simply replied, "Thanks for the cock picture, but I am in fact, actually just looking for stories. I have a boyfriend, thank you." That was just the beginning of it. Along with the ad, I posted a picture. Just me smiling. Just my face. Just to show that I am not some weirdo just looking for sex. Apparently that picture said more than that.

It's been interesting. Fun. Something to do while I sit here today, absent from school. But alas, I have to give the laptop back so now I'll have to sit here and watch t.v. instead of having random people entertain me.

The research is going on swimmingly though. I have a lot of very interesting, very funny stories and I can't wait to start compiling them. Now it's time for me to switch to mom-mode and go pick up the kiddos. Leading a double life sure is exhausting.

Right now...

My lip is swollen...I guess that's what I get for sticking a needle through it
I'm starting to get a migraine...I may have a brain tumor
I'm sleepy, but can't sleep
I'm bored and lonely, but don't want to hang out with anyone
My lips are really dry because my bottom lip is so fat I can't close them all the way
My right eye hurts
Am full of nothing but complaints right now
What else can I say, other than I'm a pathological complainer. Lather, rinse, repeat.

My life as a walking contradiction

I am in love with the weather right now. As I sit outside in my underwear typing away, I can't help but think about my cabin fever. The weather right now is reminding me of the beach. As most of you know, I absolutely love love love the ocean. Not man-made bodies of water. Not dirty lakes littered with half naked underage girls trying to get on the next installment of Girls Gone Wild. I mean the Pacific Ocean, to be exact. Sitting on the beach, for me, is next to gawdliness.

I get bored easily. I get restless. I like to get away from it all, if just for a tiny while. Right now is one of those times. In this big city, where I can't even see the stars, where everyone is moving fast, no time to stop and smell the roses, where there's time limits, expiration dates, it's hard to find any kind of clarity. Yes, I know, if I really want it, I'll find it. But that's not really how I work. And I know that going somewhere else, running away if you will, doesn't get rid of your problems or make them better...but for me...for me its about gaining the ability to see the answers as the clouds are lifted. Some of you get it, some of you don't. Just like me...some of you get me, some of you don't.

It often amazes me when someone gets me. Though I myself do not think I'm all that complex, many find it hard to understand me or where I'm coming from. Oddly enough, I've run into that a lot lately. I admit, sometimes I'm a walking contradiction. But I'm just a woman. A woman trying to find peace of mind...trying to avoid conflict, though let me tell you, conflict does NOT want to avoid me...trying to educate my kids on how not to be complete assholes...basically just trying to get through life as best as I can for myself and my kids to be happy. Though at certain times of my life that may seem impossible. But as they say, nothing's impossible, only...oh, I can't think of the word here...help me out here.

With all that being said, I should probably be going to bed. I have school in the morning, even if I haven't been wanting to go lately, and I need to actually be there. After all, the new Vice President of student council cannot shirk her duties as the President's "bitch". Yes, that's right, I got voted into the vice presidency. What were they thinking?

I'm getting eaten alive out here by mosquitoes, but of course, outside is the only place I can get the net...go figure. Oh, and more new...I got my lip pierced. I'm not that big a fan of facial piercings for myself, and yes, I know I have my septum pierced, but I can tuck it away if needed. The lip ring is not something you can just hide, especially since it takes about 6 weeks to heal. But, it was something new to do. Besides, the kids think its cool. Then again, they think everything I do is cool...oh, except for walking them to their classes now. The genius likes to get dropped off and doesn't want me holding his hand anymore either. It's a sad day when your kid is too old for that. The princess still lets me do it, but only after I asked her why she was embarassed of me, to which she replied, with a heavy sigh, that she wasn't and that I could walk her to class still...but I'm pretty sure it was only out of guilt. Guilt that she'd made mommy feel bad. ::sigh:: I never thought they would get too old for me or too embarassed of me. I know I don't look like the other moms and some might think that's why they would be embarassed of me, but that is not the case. Me looking like this is all they've known. Tattoos, colored hair, piercings and all. Alas, I guess there comes a time in every kids life when they grow to a certain kind of independance that keeps their mother from holding their hands...walking them to class...I don't think I was ready for this quite yet. They're still so young. Hell, I'M still so young. That's life I guess. Resulting from the path in the fork in the road I chose to take. And to think, I still have AT LEAST 12 more years of this to go through. I. Can't. Even. Wait.

That is if...and it's a big IF...I don't have any more kids. The truth is though, that I've been going through a patch of "baby fever". For those of you who know me, and know me well, you know I DO NOT get baby fever. And yet, here I am, reaching to hold any baby within my grasp. Scary, I know. However, as rash and impulsive as I may be at times, this is not to say that I want one now. I refuse to have a baby out or wedlock. Ironic, I know, being that I got knocked up in high school, but I'm somewhat older and wiser now. This is not to say I want this for my future though, necessarily. As I've said before, I get bored easily...I change my mind at the drop of a hat. Maybe this too will pass. With me sometimes you never know what you're going to get. Bipolar isn't the right infliction, but its the first that comes to mind.

Malice the Wonder Girl

My week has been better. Thank gawd. Yesterday was actually busy for me. As was today. And I'm booked all day tomorrow. It's about damn time. I was about thisclose to taking a leave I'm so bored with school. And yes, I know it'll probably be shitty at the beginning of next week again, but I'm hoping that with summer coming it'll pick up a little more before everyone goes on vacation.

Speaking of which, I've been possessed by the green monster. I'm completely envious of the wife and her impending vacation in Prague. She leaves in 5 days. And that sucks...well, for me. Now who's gonna buy me beers? At least I get to house sit for her so that means 13 days of peace and quiet from the madre. Gawd knows I need it.

So I finally talked to the bf and things are better. Though I have to remember not to drink that much ever again. Not only for my own sanity (i hate not remembering), but for the sanity of everyone I love. Especially Ambular who ended up having to take care of my ass. But enough about that. I'm trying to forget.

For those of you who know me well, ya'll know I HATE commercials. Especially those commercials wherein the sponsor is trying to sway you to one side or the other. For instance; the anti-smoking commercials. Granted, smoking is a bad habit, I know because I smoke a pack every two days and I do not want my kids to smoke, but let people make their own choices. Those ads make me want to smoke more out of pure rebellion. Cigarette companies aren't allowed to put out ads promoting their merchandise for fear that susceptible young minds will want to start smoking based purely on the commercial. I call bullshit. I know kids are stupid, I was once, but society should give them the benefit of the doubt...at least a little.

Another one that bugs me is the anti-abortion ads. O.k., I don't necessarily think that abortion is a good thing, but hey, to each their own. Who am i to tell someone not to do it. And for that reason mostly, I wish their were pro-abortion commercials out there in t.v.-land. "Abortion:it's the right thing to do when your life is turning to shit". But no, only one side of religiously-fanatic right-wing corporate America is allowed to express their "opinions" openly anywhere they please. That is what really grinds my gears.

Thank you for listening. And I'm out *clap*

My life in a shitshell

This week has been pretty retarded for me. And it's only Wednesday. I pretty much want to just crawl into bed and not come out until it's over.

Let's start with me getting so completely wasted on Sunday, I blacked out. At which point I yelled at the boyfriend about his c-bag roommate/ex-girlfriend (while blacked out), yes, he was officially my boyfriend for like two days, and I harked a lot. A LOT. Damn jaeger. Now the boyfriend won't talk to me. Why is it, I keep asking myself, that I keep dating cowards that don't know how to communicate? Seriously, it's like I have a radar for these people. I'm almost tempted to scrap the boyfriend (that is if he hasn't already scrapped me) and go back to 'no-fuss, no-muss'. That seems to work out for me better. No messy feelings, no broken hearts. We'll see though. I'm sometimes rash and impulsive and I change my mind at the drop of a hat. To top off my fabulous week, I just got rear-ended. On the way to the wife's with the kiddos, some dumb bitch decided that she wanted to drive even though the light was red and there were about 5 cars in front of her. Being that my drivers' license is currently suspended and I'm not supposed to be driving, I just drove away. Even though it was not my fault I wouldn't be able to do anything with the insurance information. Add that to my uterus falling out and you've got a not-so-happy Mal. But, that's nothing a little beer and time with the brother can't take care of.

A good thing about me being in reclusivity this week is that I started a 2nd draft of the first chapter of my book...an even better one than my first draft. So I'm pretty happy about that. Suffering really does bring out an artists' best work. Ya, I know I'm not REALLY suffering and there are worst things that could be going on right now, but ya'll know I like to be happy and hate conflict.

::sigh:: I guess things can only get better from here. I have about 22 1/2 weeks left of school. Let the countdown begin. I just have to get my shit together and not get terminated. After all, I don't want to be in school any longer than I have to.

Que sera, sera. Well, this is officially the worst blog I've ever written, but considering my shaken state from the accident, I could've done worse. Oh, and side note, my three middle toes are a little red and swollen. That'll teach me to drive barefoot. Pshaw, who am I kidding, I'm still gonna drive barefoot.

Come on

Here's the thing. If you go get your hair done, tip your stylist. Whether you're at a school or not, that person is spending at least an hour of their time with you to make you feel and look better. I had two client's today, one color and one cut. And...nothing. The thing is, that they both LOVED their hair when I was done with them. But still...nothing. That's my gas money. That's my lunch money. It's not that hard. $5 even, for my time, patience and hard work. It shows gratitude. Not only that, but it IS a service. Grrrrr. It really grinds my gears to work my ass off to make someone look better and to get nothing in return. It's just what you do. You tip for services rendered. Thank you. That is all.

Ranteriffic

Saturdays at school are busy. Real busy. Which is usually a good thing for me. Usually. And by usually a good thing for me, I mean I make a fairly good amount of tips. Not today. I was busy all day. I made $2. TWO DOLLARS. I know it's a school, but we don't make money off the 30 plus hours we're on the floor taking clients. We're actually paying to be there. A LOT of money to be there. Not to mention that the services there are actually pretty cheap for a school owned by a $100 minimum a haircut stylist. I guess it's not so much the no tipping on haircuts because I can now whip those out in no time at all. It's mainly the color services. I did a partial highlight this morning...not to mention it was corrective, trust me her hair looked like shit...and nothing. I spent two and a half hours fixing her crappy ass hair, using two different bleaches so that her hair wouldn't fry off, because she wanted it "more blonde". And if I do say so myself, it looked pretty bitchin'. And she LOVED it. I do a lot of corrective color, and I'm good at it. I don't even really need the instructors to help me anymore. And to not be tipped for it, well, that sucks a monkey's ass.

There are some people out there, believe it or not, who don't like me. Usually for something I had nothing to do with. If you don't like me, fine, you don't like me. I probably don't like you back, and even if I do, I could care less. I'm too old for that kind of shit and have more important things to worry about (read: my kids). So if you feel the need to talk shit, do it to my face and not hidden behind a computer using subtext in a blog. Because chances are, someone that likes me will read it and tell me about it. Just for the record, me writing about it here means nothing, it's just a rant. If I did something mean or shitty to you, then fine, talk shit. But when I did absolutely nothing to cause a shitty situation, well get over it. And that is pretty much all I'm going to say about that. Like I said before, I have more important things to worry about...like raising my kids to be good people and not complete assholes...making sure they complete school to make something of themselves...keeping them well fed, well groomed and all around happy. Which they are, so pat on my back

I'm not a huge fan of people right now. Not that I am in general, but people as a whole generally piss me off. I know I'm not the most perfect person, but I know I'm not a complete shitbag like other inhabitants of this planet. Grrrrrr.

Just for the record, today's weather is moody with a 98% chance of drunkenness. Not to mention some fun with the wife and possible loving from the new guy. Although there is a possible chance that I've worn him out this week. I'm good like that.

Bitchy is as bitchy does

Today is National Shit on Mal Day. Everyone's doing it, so join in. The ex-and-mom government are in full support of this day and encourage you to participate to the fullest extent.

Just for the record, it's holidays like this that make me want to pick up and disappear. Then maybe "the government" will actually see that I do a lot and those kiddo's are very well taken care of, smart and happy. Blindness must run in the family. At least where those two are concerned.

Honestly, if I do such a bad job, then why doesn't the ex take the kids away from me? Because then he'd have to take them to school everyday, bathe them and basically do things that aren't just fun. And the mom, well, you'd think since she's a social worker, if I'm so bad at being a parent, she would call CPS. She doesn't. Why? Because she knows. She knows she's wrong. She just doesn't know how to deal with her shit, so she takes it out on anyone around her. I'm the best for target practice, it seems.

Take a few drinks. A couple of pills. Repeat.

The next Rockette

I rocked another night of karaoke. There may have been one or two bad renditions of a song here and there, but I sure know how to entertain. Example: for mine and Angela's rendition of 'I got you babe', I sported a black wig as we were on stage. That's right. I'm getting more comfortable with this whole being in front of a group of people making an ass out of myself. Next stop, American Idol. Not really. I did, however, find another weekly song, besides 'Crazy' (though I haven't sang that the past two times), and that is 'Heaven is a place on Earth'. How can I not rock Belinda Carlisle and why did I never think to sing it before? I actually sang a lot of songs last night. Bon Jovi's 'You give love a bad name' (complete with dedication), Lita Ford, of course, and don't forget Pat Benetar. Good shit. I got way too drunk though and had to go home from school early because I pretty much wanted to die. Alcoholic isn't the right term, but it's the first that comes to mind.

I'm so not drinking tonight. No joke.

Now it's time for me to stop lazing around and take care of the munchkins. The princess is becoming more and more like me every day...and let me tell you, it's scary. I don't know if the world is ready for two Mal's. She went to school today rockin' a 'fohawk' and an outfit I would probably sport...minus the cleavage, of course. I told her I was glad she was my daughter...and she responded that she was glad I was her mom because I'm "gothic". What 6 year old says that? Mine does, apparently. As much as I'm not a kid person, the genius and the princess are pretty bitchin' kids...that is when they're not trying to beat each other up. Little freakishly strong mutants. Just like their daddy.

Time to veg out and not leave my bed until it's time to go to school tomorrow morning. Just for the record, there's always a first for everything.

Rantastical

I had a field trip to the Arizona Science Center today to see the body exhibit...I want to go back.

People in Az DO NOT...I repeat...DO NOT know how to drive. I had pretty much the worst road rage driving back to school because assholes don't know that they can go over 50 mph in the carpool lane. Grrrrr.

Couldn't sleep last night. Too much walking today. Tired. BUT we took some pretty amazing pictures, so that was fun.

I just realized that my ex-boyfriend/short-lived-fiancee is supposed to get married in like 2 days. Weird. Surprisingly though, I'm not pissed about it anymore. I guess I'm pretty much over it completely, considering I never got closure. You know, that thing that the complicated girls never get. Probably because I had an amazing night with the new guy last night. That helps. Cheers to the new guy.

I guess I guess I don't really have that much to rant about. I'm just...complacent. Especially now that I know that my week-long headache was due to a brand new sinus infection. Thank you Arizona weather. Take a few drinks. A couple of sinus pills. Repeat.

Closure is a girls best friend

As I was sitting at home today waiting to take the princess to school, I started to watch High Fidelity. If you haven't seen it, it's about John Cusack and his search for closure and himself in the midst of a current breakup. His search includes a bevy of lost loves he contacts to find out why they left him. That's the jist of it, anyway. And I started thinking about my past relationships.

I've only had two actual relationships. The first one that eventually ended in divorce and the second one which gave me no closure.

The ex and I met in high school. I'd had a crush on him in junior high because he had a cute butt and this amazing long, red, curly hair. In high school, I pursued him. We had a mutual friend and I got his number. We started dating and everything was kosher. Then I got knocked up with the genius. It's weird the amount of shit we've been through. We basically grew up together...and at the same time, grew apart. Things are different when you're in high school to when you have actual responsibilities and "grown up" duties when you're still a teenager. But through our ups and downs, we made it, and in the process have raised some pretty amazing kids. Eight and a half years of marriage. That's a long time. But now we get along great. When I tell people that, mostly the reaction is, "Why don't you get back together then if you get along so great?" My answer to that is, "We get along great as friends and nothing more." They don't really seem to understand. We grew apart, but at the same time, grew into a bit of a brother/sister type relationship. I was once told that it should be easy to just forget about him and erase him from my life. Impossible. He is, after all, the father of my children and there is no way he would ever not be in my life and vice versa. As far as the relationship goes though, that chapter of my life is closed.

Next chapter, my relationship with the weasel. I don't even really know how to describe it. It was fast, that's for sure. I'm not going to go into that much detail with this one, mainly because it was only about five months of sitting around and getting high and doing nothing. Also because I still don't really know what happened there. With this one, I got no closure. Finding out on myspace that he's engaged to someone else (i will not vilify other people no matter how badly i want to) and then getting dumped via e-mail, to me, does not closure make. So that was the end of that lobotomized chapter.
Main Entry: clo·sure
Pronunciation: 'klO-zh&r
Function: noun
1. : an often comforting or satisfying sense of finality ; also : something (as a satisfying ending) that provides such a sense

Fast forward to now with the new guy. It's been a little over two months, but I wouldn't really call it a relationship. I call it a "thing". We're taking it nice and slow. No labels, no expectations...just chill and relaxed and enjoying each other's company. Who knows what will happen here, after all, this chapter is still being written. But he did meet the kids yesterday. We had a birthday party for the princess and I invited him. I don't think it was too bad. The ex was there, of course, with his family, my family and some friends were there. It was a good night. And I think it went pretty well, not just the party, the new guy being there. The thing I liked best about that part was when aaron AND the new guy tag team (get your mind out of the gutter) teased me. They're cool with each other...so far...and that's important, being that the ex WILL be in my life as well as the kids' lives.

I know I overthink things a little too much, but my mind is a constant battlefield of thoughts and I can't help it. Although, yesterday, I got my chakra's cleansed. I know, it sounds funny, but it was pretty amazing. My heart chakra was blocked, I'm not really surprised. I closed myself up. It happens, you're in a bad relationship, and you don't want to let anybody in. I don't share myself easily, always wary of getting hurt. But I have let him in, just a little. So we'll see where this goes. Can't wait wait to see the ending. It's like a surprise you get in July that's supposed to be a 'do not open til Christmas' type of thing. Only time will tell.

All in all though, I think everyone needs closure. It helps the healing process begin. All that happens when there is no closure is bitterness, cynicism and pessimism build up and boil till a part of you is lost and can't see a way out. It sucks. I'm sure most of you know what I'm talking about. Take a couple of drinks. A few pills. Repeat.

I'm happy right now, and that's all that matters though...at least in this point in time. Things have been worse and at this point, I believe (hope mostly) that things can only get better from here. Just for the record, today's weather is hopeful with a chance of possibilities.

I put the ass in classy

Hickies are SO last season. So that means I am completely out of style. And apparently in 7th grade. Classy isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

It's karaoke night down at O'Kelley's. Pat Benetar. Maybe Joan Jett. Mr. Big. We'll see how many songs they let me do before they realize I can't sing and they have to pry the microphone out of my little midget hands. Oh, and my voice is way more raspy than usual...losing it again. As my other personality, "The Tranny" would say, "Do you think he likes chicks with dicks?"

I am very quite possibly not making much sense right now. That tends to happen when you're stressed out helping the genius with his last minute science project, take a soma, are surviving on about 4 hours of sleep and have received the dreaded "curse". For the record, the weather forecast is loopy with slight chances of bitchiness and sarcasm.

Adventures in Whoreland

I came to a realization this weekend. I realized that the new guy is pretty much the only guy I want to sleep with. Boyfriend or not.

I had a great time all weekend long, granted, a sleepless one, but fun nonetheless. But in the midst of my Sunday morning fun, I found myself missing him and not really into what I was doing. Gay, I know. But I don't really care.

It's been two months since I started hanging out with the new guy, and while I still feel bitter about the last time I got screwed over, I still plan on taking things slow this time.

Epiphany isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Misadventures in Horrorland

I am currently surviving on about 5 hours of sleep for this entire weekend. don't ask me how I do it in my old age, but I do. Not to mention that I had to, last minute, put together and host Easter lunch at my place for the ex and his family. Don't ask.

Let's start with Thursday. I wanted to sing karaoke. Like bad. So after school, I called up the crew (read: the wife) and headed out to O'Kelley's. Right when I got there Gina was ready for me to put in my songs. I hate singing alone, so I was trying to persuade her to sing with me. She refused. So I was trying to find a song, but the new guy was there with me and I was kind of nervous because I'd never sang in front of him before and, well, I was just nervous. So after much deliberation, I chose a song. After only a beer and a half, it was my turn. I sang sober. By myself. But I rocked Heartbreaker like it was nobody's business. Then Angela and I decided to rock out together, so we chose Mr. Big and Lita Ford. Still not drunk, and faster than I could say karaoke, it was our turn. She insisted we go on stage to sing. I refused. She kept on it and the new guy and others joined in. Since I'm susceptible to peer pressure, I caved. Off to the stage I sauntered. Lita Ford came on and I started singing my little heart out. I got THEE biggest adrenaline rush. I danced, I sang, I conquered. And a dude gave us each a dollar. All in all I gave a good show. I sang another song, but I'm proudest that I actually got up on a stage in a crowded bar and belted out Pat Benetar. And I wasn't even drunk.

Next morning I woke up way too tired and not wanting to wake up. But alas, I can't miss much school...at least for the rest of this term. So I drove my unhappy, non-morning person ass to school. I was only booked with two haircuts. I know I used to bitch all the time about how many highlights I was getting a day...well now I say I should've knocked on wood. Haircuts are boring and I just want to do color. So anyway, my first client gave me a $20 tip on a $15 haircut. F'n F'yeah. I'm a baller now. That was pretty much the highlight of my day. I go home and pass out. I was so tired from all the singing and drinking the night before and school. I actually passed out with a beer in my hand. I woke up to the ex standing over me laughing about said beer in my hand while the princess was repeatedly saying mommy. The ex left and the kids went about their business as I passed out again. I awoke, sweaty and uncomfortable about an hour later to find the princess cuddled up next to me, long leg draped over me, passed out and sweaty. I carried her to her bed, which isn't easy considering she's a little more than half my size and weighs in at approximately 60 pounds. I went back to my bed and passed out. Again. I woke up about and hour or so later with no real intention of going out. But of course, at about 10:30, the wife calls and peer pressures me into going to Jupes. Well, I guess I wouldn't say pressured so much as demanded. So I get ready and go. Sidebar: the new guy was supposed to be on a plane to Cali to visit his kids for Easter. So I'm at Jupes where I drank a couple of beers and I was getting ready to leave since I only wanted to go for an hour or so. I look up and there's my new guy. Of course I stayed. And drank more. And by more, I mean shots. At some point in the night the new guy wanted to take me to his place to show me around since I hadn't been there yet. We were outside and I didn't have my purse, but he said we'd be back shortly and to just leave it. So off we went. He showed me around and then he showed me some pictures of his family and what not. When we were done I stood to hint that I needed to go back to the bar since we had been there for about an hour and my purse was still at the bar and it was almost closing time. He wanted me to spend the night. He took me back to get my purse. Now the smart thing for me at this point would have been to get in my car and follow him back. I'm not that smart. At least not at that point in time since it'd been nearly two weeks since we'd had sex, I was a little distracted. Sidenote: contrary to popular belief, women DO think about sex that way.

So we go back, have some coital fun and he falls asleep. It's about 3 a.m. and I had told him that I needed to be home at least by 6 since I had the mom's car and I had to get ready for school and all that good stuff. He had to wake up at 4:30 to go and try to catch the next flight out, so I waited. I only slept for about a half hour since I was anxious and paranoid that I would sleep in. 4:15 rolls around and I start trying to wake him up. About 45 minutes later, he's still not responding. I start searching my pretty little head for friends that might be up at five in the morning and love me enough to pick me up to take me to my car. The wife was at the best friends place in North Tempe and three sheets to the wind, so that was a no go. Next was Clint. He was otherwise occupied. I couldn't think of anyone else who would be up at five in the morning and in the area. I tried one more wake up and nothing. I slipped on my chuck's and thought to myself, fuck it I'm walking. So I got my shit and hoofed it. The bar is only about a half mile from where he lives, so it wasn't bad at all. By the time I got home at 5:30 though, I was fully energized from my brisk morning walk and couldn't fall asleep. Then the princess woke up. Then the genius...who happened to be sick and throwing up.

Needless to say, school that day was rough. Although I mostly sat outside and chain smoked since I'd only had two clients for cuts which took me about a half hour each.

When I got home after, I wanted to sleep so bad before the derby game, but the wife needed me to pick her up. No nap for Mal. And that night...that night, I can't even talk about because it was pretty much one of the weirdest nights of my life. Though I will say this...At Casey's this scraggly older lady with herpes on the mouth sat at my table and started talking to me. She started telling me I was "so pretty", "so gorgeous", "so awesome". She then whips out a camera and wants to take my picture. Weird. On the plus side of the weirdness, she bought me a drink which was awesome since I had no money. The shit this woman...married-soon-to-be-divorced to a man...was saying to me, I can't even repeat. But like I said, she was buying me drinks. I know, I'm a whore. And the rest of the night, well, I'm just still in awe of the shit that went down, I can't even talk about it. Oh, and this was after I threw up everything I'd eaten for the past week, and was left still completely wasted. Go Figure. Stupid Jaeger bombers. Wait, I didn't meant it, I love them. But that last one was what triggered it. I shot it, wooed, then proceeded directly to the bathroom. Pass go and collect $200.

All in all a good, strange weekend. It ended nice with an Easter late lunch and my extremely smart, extremely cute (read: i'm biased) kids. The princess fell asleep in my arms...all legs of her.

I must say, I truly live a double life. There are no lies involved, no acting different cause I'm pretty much the same person all around, but a double life nonetheless.

Multiple personality isn't the correct disorder, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah

You know, everytime I go to write something lately, I just don't feel it. I just had a whole paragraph written out but I erased it because I just didn't...feel it. I'm bored with myself...lonely...irritated. So what else is new, you may ask? I guess nothing. I'm in a rut, plain and simple. What's going to get me out of this rut? I have no idea. I guess I'll just have to wait and see how this chapter of my so-called life turns out.

Reader discretion is advised

Warning: graphic grossness is involved in this blahg, so if you're easily grossed out, my dad or a boy in general who doesn't like reading about the trials and tribulations of the female "monthly's", then I suggest you don't read this. That is all

A funny thing happened to me in the bathroom the other day. As I was dropping the kids off at the pool (read: pooing) yesterday morning, I realized there was something not right. I felt as if there was something trying to make its way out of my chonch. I started to freak out that I was having a miscarriage, even though I KNOW I'm not or haven't been preggers for a VERY long time. So as I reached between my legs to see what it was, I felt something. I quickly withdrew my hand, shaking, not sure what was going on. Finally after a few seconds, deep breaths and words of encouragement to myself, I went back in. What I discovered freaked me out. It was a tampon. One that I had inserted 2 weeks ago. TWO WEEKS. I remember putting it in, then the next morning when I went to take it out, I couldn't find it, so I assumed I hadn't and just thought I had, since I was wasted I could have easily forgotten.

Gross. I know. When I was sick last week, it was Toxic Sock Syndrom. And I noticed that I've been having really sharp pains in the pelvic area, and now I know why.

That's pretty much the extent of my excitement for the week. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Under a rock

I was sick for the past few days. I didn't drink for the past few days. Therefore I was a lightweight when I went out last night. Four, maybe five beers later and I could barely walk. That'll show me to stop drinking.

While I was in bed for those few days, I couldn't help but over think things...between sleeping that is. When I'm at home alone, left to my own devices, I tend to do that...over think that is. I couldn't help but keep thinking about my loneliness. Yes I am surrounded by family. Yes I am surrounded by friends. But being that I'm a big spoiled brat, being sick with no one to take care of me really sucked. I actually called the ex to come to my house to baby me. And to take care of the kitties. Being sick is actually one of the few times I miss being married. Not like I can call the new guy to take care of me, he hasn't even met the kids yet (and won't for a long time) so that's nil. So in came the ex to the rescue. Just as a side note, the new guy doesn't mind that the ex comes around and is my good friend. But that's an entirely different story altogether. Its nice to have someone take care of you. Especially when the majority of your life is spent in prisons of loneliness. I don't understand it, but I guess that's just how life goes.

Being that I was sleeping all day, my night sleep patterns were thrown off. And while I was up in the middle of the night, I got inspired. I put my laziness aside, pulled out my laptop and concocted a first rough draft of the introduction to my in-the-works book. You know the one. The one on the trials and tribulations of internet dating. The one on cynicism on dating in general. So I think I pretty much broke the writing laziness I've had lately. Let the fun begin.

So now I guess I'll make my way back home. And possibly make my way to Renee C.'s pool to enjoy the beautiful weather we're having right now with hopes of tanning my too white for a Mexican legs. Albino isn't the right description, but its the first that comes to mind.

Where's a dealer when I need one

I am oh so tired. I know I go and stay out all hours of the night even though I have to wake up early for school, but why oh why am I this tired? I think I fell asleep somewhere between 8 and 8:30 last night. That is supremely early for me. But I couldn't help it. I was sleepy. And I'm still sleepy.

I think I need some crack. Because them I'm sure I wouldn't be so tired. Maybe I'd look like hell, but I'd be wide awake nonetheless. I know what ya'll are thinking right now...why not just stop staying out so late and/or being an insomniac? Because, my friends, that would not be as fun for me. Or for you, because then I wouldn't have zany crack head antics to write about in my blahgs. See how that works? Then everyone's happy.

Ok, so I guess I really won't start smoking crack, but damn if I could catch a break and not be so sleepy all the time. Wait, I know what it is...it's all those damn highlights I've been doing at school. I hate doing them (though I'm totally bitchin' at them) because they are not fun. The make my back hurt and take too long. And I swear the front desk hates me and knows I hate them and purposely give me so many damn highlights.

Meh, I guess I should stop bitching. Although, who am I trying to fool. We all know its what I'm good at. You know, besides doing hair.

So, back to the crack. Anyone got some? Ok, I just like saying the word crack. It's funny. You know it is, don't deny it.

::Sigh:: I guess I should go pass out...or I'll probably go hang out with the "bf" (read: the new guy). I'll probably never learn my lesson. Ah, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.

Give me your money

For those of you that wanted to see my bracelets, here they are...well, one of them at least. This one is two-tone (but I can make them a single-tone) with swaroski crystals and glass beads and is 5 strand (they come in 3 and 4 strand also). The bracelet is made out of ribbon. If you want one,e-mail me or comment me and let me know. I can do dark green, light blue, white, purple, light pink, dark pink, beige and...I think that's all the colors I have. If there is a different color you want, let me know and I'll see if I can find it...I can only use a certain type of ribbon for these, so if they don't make the color you want, you're s.o.l. (read: shit out of luck)! But seriously, you know you want one...they're real pretty. So buy one and give me your money.

Side note: These are made with love...you know, cause I'm full of it.

7 things you don't really care to know about me

I'm stealing this from the lovely Alimony's blog...we used to be old roller derby teammates and I heart her even though I don't see her anymore.

1. One of my biggest fears is zombies...especially kid zombies...but i know they're not real
2. I am the biggest nerd you will ever meet
3. I have a constant inner-mononlogue going...at all times
4. I have a secret obsession with cheerleading...and used to want to be one
5. When I'm alone, I supermodel runway walk down the hallway
6. I nickname almost everybody i meet
7. I absolutely hate excessive (or even moderate) grammatical and spelling errors

There, seven useless facts about me you wish you didn't know. Or maybe just didn't care enough to think about it that much! I'm extremely sleepy, overworked and not payed and my boobs hurt. Stupid being a girl. Maybe I should stop going out on school nights and actually stay home and sleep. But then if I did that, I'd have nothing to bitch about. Catch 22 isn't the right cliche, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Boredom at its best

Not one client this entire week. Not. ONE. I think the receptionists hate me. Maybe. I don't know. Or maybe it's that one that's a huge bitch that is just trying to fuck with me. I really would like to punch her in the face. But considering that I was just terminated, I have to tread on thin ice. But she really is a bitch and I hate her with a fiery passion. And I don't hate people like that very often. But I digress. It has been a very slow and boring week of quotas, magazine reading and chain smoking. Gawd help me.

On an even more annoying note, my tax money is officially gone...and I don't even remember saving it. Well, that's not true. But I was trying to be real careful this time, but, apparently, to no avail. Well, that's life. My life to be exact. I always figure out what to do in the end and come through somewhat unharmed. Oh, I could have been the star of My So-Called Life. Then married Jared Leto. I'm just saying.

Hells yeah

I'm baaaaaack! In school that is. Hooray for me. Relieved isn't the correct term, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Mrs. Jared Leto

That's right folks, I am now officially married to Jared Leto. I went to the taste of chaos show last night, where the famed "Jordan Catalano" met his eyes with mine, immediately fell in love and whisked me away to get hitched. It was amazing.

And then I opened my eyes and realized that I was actually in the middle of my worst nightmare whereas I was surrounded by pimply, hormonal teenage boys who wear more eyeliner than me and pants that would fit the princess and girls who were dressed so badly, it was entertaining.

But oh how I wish I could actually, in fact, marry Jared Leto. I have been "in love" with him since the days of My So Called Life. And, I was thisclose to touching him. In the middle of one of the songs he ran out into the stands where kids were grabbing at him while his bodyguard was trying to keep up, but the gaggles of screaming teens was hard to get through. He ran down to the floor, where we were standing, and I was going to just stand there, like the cool kid I am, and not go crazy, but how many chance are you THAT close to someone so freakin' hot and yummy. So I hurriedly mmade my way to where he was standing and shoved the annoying teenagers aside so that I may at least touch him. But alas, there were way too many damn people in the way. But I was close, oh so close.

All in all though, it was a real good show. We only got to see The Used and 30 Seconds to Mars, but it was well worth it. I don't listen to either band, but seeing them live, I think I'm going to have to start.

Delusional isn't the right term, but it's the first that comes to mind.

The waiting game with Alex Trebec

I'm still waiting to hear back from the director to see if I'm going to be allowed back into school. I don't see why I wouldn't be. The director knows that I'm a good student and that (not to brag) am good at what I do...so far. So why the hold up? It's making me very nervous. And I hate that. I was hoping I would've been called by today, and...nothing. I guess I'll just have to keep waiting and hoping.

So, I've been hanging out with the new "bf" (it's still not labeled, so we'll bunny ears the bf part) a lot lately. Still. He's a lot of fun and I have a huge crush on him. The best part? He likes me back. I was trying to explain to him yesterday how most guys, even if they like me, don't really consider me a girl for them to date. I'm pretty much only good for one thing. Not to say I mind all that much, really, but it does suck sometimes. So I'm pretty amazed that this one actually calls me and I'm not doing all the chasing. Yay for me.

I've had a lazy day today. Doing nothing but watching last season's America's Next Top Model...hooray for marathons.

Today's weather forecast is clouded with a chance of drunkenness.

Dream weaver

Sunday morning while the wife was perusing through < alt="Postsecret"> she asked me (jokingly) if I had sent in the above post card. If only. I think that would be pretty amazing. Truth is, the twins get me nothing, really. Sometimes drinks, but that rarely ever happens. Meh

I'm extremely irritated today. I got terminated from school today. It's really not that big a deal, all I have to do is write a letter of appeal and take it to the director tomorrow and I'll be back in by Friday. Hopefully. But still. It's like in high school when I got suspended for one whole day...and it was a half day...and I cried. Granted I ditched all the time, never went to detentions and was completely stoned all the time. But yet I cried anyway. I had never been suspended. So now, I didn't cry, but it still pretty much sucked. I'm on the honor roll and in student council. Ya, I'm a geek, what of it.

So leaving school, the biggest assholes were on the road. Road rage IS the right phrase and it's the first that comes to mind.

Ryan started the fire

I just spent the last 8 hours watching the Office. It's my new favorite show. Last Sunday was pretty much spent the same way. Weird.

So the new boy...I've hung out with him pretty much almost every day this week. Amazing is all I can really say about that. He gets along good (so far) with all my friends and most importantly, the bests. Especially the wife.

So we had the "where is this going" conversation...maybe just a little too early...but so far we've decided it's going to be what it is and not "labeled". Sounds good to me. Though I'm still not really too sure about the whole sleeping with other people thing. I think I'll put my retainers on the back burner anyway, just to be on the safe side. After all, that's what retainers are for.

So that's that. Live and let live isn't the right phrase, but it's the first that comes to mind.

There are no words

Yesterday I cut a "lady mullett". True story. And it's what she wanted...on purpose! It was amazing. Speechless isn't the right term, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Move along

Life is weird. I know I say this every 5 blahgs or so, but it's true. Sometimes I think God, if there really is one, just randomly throws shit your way to see how you'll handle it...but just for fun on His part. Hell, if I got to look down on people all day you better believe I'd be up there laughing my ass off and basically just amusing myself.

With that said, I met a boy this weekend. Saturday night to be exact...Saturday night when I was supposed to be at the derby game that I COMPLETELY forgot about. But I guess it was a good thing. So, chatted up the new boy, I guess I shouldn't really call him boy since he's a little older than me but whatever, totally got his digits and he got mine, and went our seperate ways. The wife and I had to make our way to Caseys. So being that sometimes I'm a drunk retard, I texted the new boy at about 3am. Although I didn't say anything embarassing, so that's a good thing.

I wasn't really expecting him to call me...or to call me at all really. Boys are retarded like that sometimes. But he called. The VERY. Next. Day. Big surprise on my part. So I waited a couple of hours because, of course, I was nervous to return his call. So finally I called, got his voicemail and left a message...I also said the word 'later' about 50 times. But then he called back and we made plans to go out.

We went out last night. Pretty good times. He's cool. Actually likes the same kind of music I do which is hardcore old skool punk otherwise known as shit, according to the wife. But a lot in common. Funny. Cute. Former tattoo artist. Artist. Tall. Heavily tattooed. Just to name a few of the things I like about him. There were a few little surprises thrown in there that I wasn't expecting, but nothing too bad. I just gotta roll with the punches and see what happens.

One thing's for sure, I am not, I repeat, NOT going to jump into a relationship with him, or anyone, as fast as I did my last one. I've learned my lesson and experienced that you can't rush things...especially when it comes to people that may or may not become a running role in your life.

All in all I had a good weekend. A little bumpy, but good nonetheless.

More of the excitement

I'm oh so tired. I went to Jupes last night. I was only gonna stay until about midnight. At last call, I was barely finishing up my beer.

School was busy today. Clients up the ass. The princess made a cameo and entertained all the girls with her awesome dance moves. She even danced off with the instructor. It was amazing.

Going to a party at the Murrays soon. I kind of want to go to sleep. But as the wife put it, the seven year old in me keeps thinking, "What if I miss something?!" Yeah, I know, call me immature.

Smiles. Laughter. Beer. Boys. Beer. Sounds like my kind of night. Anxious isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Fade into the wall

Today was a rough day. And by rough, I mean absofuckenlutely boring. Our instructor wasn't there, so we got shoved upstairs to sit around and apply, apply, apply cholestoral on our heads (read: mannequin). And it sucked. So I left early. No appointments and a bad sinus headache make Mal a grumpy girl.

In lieu of sitting around school with my thumb up my ass, I took a field trip to the mall *gasp* to look for a new job. Ugh, I wish I could be done with school already so that I wouldn't have to find some minial, minimum wage paying, I'm totally older than everyone else job. But I digress. I went to forever 21 and Hot Topic. Both illustrious in thier own right, I know, but I need a job and I'm desperate. As I was walikng into the consumerism conglommerate, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a man and a woman. Both with huge, fake smiles superglued to their pale, zombielike faces. I knew what they wanted. I could see the look in their soulless, blank stares. But there was no way for me to escape. So I tried to blend into the Forever 21 windowed wall. I slid across it, walking sideways. But it didn't work. They spotted me. Started walking towards me. I tried to avoid eye contact. But then it happened. The man started talking to me. Words spilling out so fast, all I could make out was "survey...$15.00...quick". I shook my head and said no thanks and sped walked out of there as fast as I could.

In case you didn't notice, I hate those people. Right up there with Kelly Clarkson's 'Since you've been gone'. And for those of you who know me well, that's a hatred that's pretty deep. And I mean with a fiery passion.

So the applications are dropped off and now all I have to do is wait. I don't like waiting. Guess I should have thought of that before...well, just before.

Ok, I'm done. It's hard for me to concentrate. I've decided I've pretty much become like a man...in the thinking about sex every 2 seconds way, not in the growing a penis way. Five weeks and counting. Another thing clouding my concentration are, not surprising at all, boys. Well, I guess that goes hand in hand with the whole thinking about sex all day. Why is it that girls have to overthink, analyze and obsess over everything having to do with boys while THEY get to just sit around scratching their balls obsessing over what they'll eat next. Oh, to have it easy. But I guess the grass is always greener on the other side.

Bombarded isn't the right term, but it's the first that comes to mind.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again

Ugh. I had half a blahg written out...but then I realized it was just a bunch of senseless bullshit that no one, not even me, would want to read. Wow, I'm kind of on a downward spiral when it comes to my blahging lately. Maybe it's the pressure of knowing how many people read these on a daily basis. The pressure to always be witty, funny or even somewhat interesting. The pressures getting to me man. I can't take it!

Or maybe it's just that nothing really interesting, funny and/or witty has happened in my life lately. Mostly a day in my life has consisted of school, kids and, well, nothing really. Well, nothing worth mentioning or that I should really talk about. I mean, I could go on about my sore throat. Or my most recent crush(es). My lack of a (current) sex life. My hair color class fun. Oh look, I do have stuff to talk about. And here I thought my life was boring.

Recumbant isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

Something a lot of people don't know about me is that I like to read tarot cards. I do my own readings mostly, because I do get kind of shy doing it for other people. Sometimes I'm a show off, and sometimes I hide my abilities. It's who I am...contradictory. Anyway, I did a couple of different readings for myself yesterday and for the most part, were good. There is a recurring card that keeps coming up, I won't bore you with the details, and I can't help but have hope that what I'm seeing will truly come to pass. I know it sounds weird to most people, but for the most part my readings are spot on. I don't talk about it much though...like I said, I'm a little shy about it. But the recurring card is plagueing my mind. It has something to do with a boy. Describes him perfectly. And the surrounding cards tie in so good. I just have to stop thinking about it. But maybe, JUST MAYBE, something interesting will happen in my life. You know, for sake of blahging.

Ok, so besides the whole boring life, tarot cards thing, I am really enjoying my color class. I absolutely love it. But one thing's for sure, if you're coming to me for a color, make sure you're probably not going to be going anywhere, because I'm messy. I already have color all over my white shirt.

So, I guess that's it. Nothing too exciting (read: boring). As my father would say...Sin fin.

Side note

There is this boy I've been in love with since I was 19. He is often referred to as my "one and only" in my blahgs. He is, unfortunately for me, unavailable (read: married). Anyway, the wife and I were talking about him the other night and flashbacking to when we were 19 and extremely wasted, which was most of the time. He was hanging out with us and she ALMOST convinced me to go into the room he was in alone, and bust out a rendition of Cheap Trick's "I want you to love me". Good thing I didn't listen. That could have been highly awkward and embarassing. I was literally thisclose to singing to him. That is all. I just thought of it and it still makes me laugh. Oh the stupid shit we did when we were young.

You don't say

It's kind of weird when I'm left alone all day to my own devices. I'm not used to it. And when I'm alone, there's quite a bit of inner monologue-ing. And a tiny bit of depression. I think the depression will pass though once I'm used to all this free time again. At least on Mondays.

But it was relaxing. I started on the first chapter of my (read: one of many) books, titled: One girl's demise to insanity, an internet dating "not-to" . It's a working title, but I thought it was funny. Yes, I AM easily amused. But really, I started on it. And about 3 cross outs later, I got the opening sentence right. The opening sentence is the most important since that's what is going to catch the reader. I'm pretty stoked about it. Of course, the one reader that I'm going to try an catch the most is my father. After all, who wouldn't want a "journalism icon" to approve of your book. And then of course, the sister. Also a writer in her own right, she's a big reader. So her opinion is highly regarded. Of course, this will probably take me about at least a year to write. Being that I actually only have two free days a week...not to mention the problem of no computer so it will be hand written...oh yeah, and the fact that I'm a procrastinator. But in due time. Time flies after all...I can't believe it's almost February. A month commercialized by hallmark for a holiday that didn't even REALLY have anything to do with love and presents. I'm just saying.

I've also psuedo-created (read: haven't actually written, but have the idea) a character for a children's book. That should be fun, and interesting. Considering how sometimes dirty...well, "adult"...some of my writing can be. Meh. If I can mother two children, I can do this as well.

Speaking of children, when I picked up the princess from school today, the teacher told me that she's a little mathmetician. I'm so proud. I have a nerd in the family. Not really...she's not a nerd, just, apparently, smart. Oh, kids these days.

I'm tired. And worded out. Too much writing makes Mal a tired girl.

The crazy...it runs in the family

This week has been a bevy of drinking and not enough sleep. I know I've talked about this before, but I'd just like to reiterate. My insomnia has been gone for a short while, but lately, since I seem to not be able to go to sleep before 3am, my sleep pattern has been fucked up.

But I'm ending this week with a bang. Day drinking is always fun on a Sunday afternoon. I mos def need to cut the drinking on school nights. My mommy says so.

So, I'm real sorry that I haven't really had anything deep and/or meaningful to say in my blahgs lately. Alcoholism does that to you.

Cat tail biter isn't the right name, but it's the first that comes to mind.

My bleeding heart

I've gone out way too much this week. Happy birthday to me, right.

Too much drinking, not enough sleep. I need to stop going out on school nights.

Speaking of school, I've got a lot more clients coming back for more. Oh yeah, I'm that good. And other students ready to graduate handing off their clients to me. I'm so proud. Let's have some drinks and celebrate.

Lush isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

A night in the life of a camera whore

Here are some pics from my birthday party. It was good times, my friends, good times.

He was pretty much the hit of the party. Ya, he stole my thunder

The after party...complete with guitar hero

Clint petered out early...at least he stayed up later than midnight!

This was the next day...don't I look lovely?

I'm a young gun

Apparently I look anywhere from 18 to 25 to all the girls at my school. And you know what? I love them all for that.

Most of them are usually surprised to hear that I even have kids. It's amazing and a ginormous ego boost...especially considering my recent birthday.

Speaking of birthdays, I spent my actual day yesterday pretty mellow. I slept in the morning, a lot, and cried a little (read: pmsing). Then I went to the Methodist church in Tempe for a charity thing where we cut homeless people's hair. It was interesting to say the least. But pretty rad...what with the fuzzy little feeling you get inside from helping those less fortunate than yourself. Then it was off to Jupes for drinks. I wasn't even going to drink that much, but 5 pitchers and a shot later, I was drunk. I rolled into my house at around 2:30 am and passed out. It goes without saying that I've been tired and grumpy all day. Time for bed.

I had a good past couple of days. Although, the one thing I wanted, I didn't get. And I probably shouldn't say this on here since the sister and dad read it, but I really don't care right now since they know I got my kids SOMEHOW...I really wanted to have me some birthday sex. That's all. That's all I wanted. But no. I got shot down. Which never happens. And boy am I fiending. Boo.

Ok, so pms and no sex aside, I'm fairly happy right now. It's probably just all the sugar from the highly potent cupcakes I've eaten tonight. Yes, I said cupcakes...as in plural...as in more than one. Man, I'm probably going to gain back those 20 pounds I lost. Stupid being a girl.

Um, ya...the sugar is going to my head. I should just end it here...you know, cause I'm starting to draw a blank.

Sugar coma isn't the right malady, but it's the first that comes to mind.

I don't even know what to title this one

It' official. I am oficially another year older. Another year closer to 30. And another year closer to insanity.

On a cold winter morning in January, exactly 28 years, 2 hours and 6 minutes ago, a little bundle of joy was born. Coming into a family of a writer father, a college coed and a 7 year old sister, Malintzin (no middle name) Olvera began her life. With big brown eyes and a full head of black spiky hair, I won everyone over. Not much different from today.

But really...I wonder what my parents and sister must think of me now. Not knowing what was in store for my life. Not knowing how I would turn out. I know I wonder the same thing about my kitties. Maybe they did. Growing up, my nieghborhood nickname was "Tornado". True story. I was blunt, outspoken, loved to wear dresses while climbing trees, loved to roller skate and mos def got my way the majority of the time. Sound familiar?

It has been quite a ride, this life of mine, that's for sure. And, for the most part, I've enjoyed almost every minute. Even the bad ones. After all, you have to gain life experience somehow, right.

Old timer's disease isn't the right phrase, but it's the first that comes to mind.

What a year it's been

Last night was my b-day party...*ahem* mine and Clint's b-day party. It pretty much ruled.

I was still drunk til about 2 hours ago. You know when that happens that you had a good time. Not to mention the fact that I was up for an entire 24 hours. But was still have keg left, so let the drinking commence and continue.

I think that that's all I've got to say right now. I'm extremely tired and out of it, my mind's a complete blank.

And the birthday fun is mos def not over yet.

If you gave a caveman bubblegum

Would he know what to do with it? So I guess that's pretty much what I'm thinking right now. Don't know why, and don't really care enough to try and figure out why.

I actually had something worthwhile and witty to say, but I got distracted by watching Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Damn that movie sure knows how to kill brain cells.

Tomorrow is my birthday party. Monday is the holy day. I'm still obsessing about turning old. I can't help it. Everybody just scoffs at me when I mention it...older or younger than me. The 20 year olds tell me I'm not even that old (they really heart me) and the older ones just pffffftttttt me and roll their eyes. Whatever. I feel as though I'm old. Especially since I've got a 9 year old who's almost as tall as me who could possibly be going through puberty soon.

How does that happen?! His teacher told me his increasing ticks and ocd could be a sign of puberty, since things like that heighten with the onslaught of hell *ahem* puberty. I mean, I remember the embarassment of developing early (read: having big boobs at the tender age of 10) but I never imagined it might happen early to my very own flesh and blood. Well, I guess all I can say about that is I can't wait to call him Peter Brady. Good times.

This weekend is punk rock bowling in Vegas. I've always wanted to go. But considering I can't even afford regular bowling in Mesa, it wouldn't happen for me ever. But I do get to have a bitchin' birthday party. Bring on the politically incorrect and easily offendable. Drinking and offending, two of my favorite things in this whole wide world.