Woke up this morning and my internet was shut off. Called my ISP, who is also my phone & cable provider, and asked what the deal was. My cable & phone were still working, so it was just my net. Spent an hour and a half on hold, only to find out that my cable & phone were about to be shut off, too, and it was due to a back balance.
First, I was told I need $305 to get it turned back on. Well, let’s just say I don’t have $305 right this minute. Second, if I did have $305, it’d probably be needed for more life-and-death shit than my internet. No internet = little contact with KH. My cell phone just isn’t an option for calling the Netherlands and talking all damn day. 
Needless to say I was not a happy camper at all.
But, the funny thing is, the little crisis this morning (which obviously turned out to have a happy ending) really put a lot of things in perspective. A lot of things that had been bothering me, a lot of issues I was having, were completely laid to rest. The grass on my side of the fence is indeed plenty green. 
I loved my vibrator. I mean, c’mon what girl doesn’t? I didn’t love it in quite the same way that I love my boyfriend, but c’mon … it got me through a lot of tough times. 
Sadly, though, my vibrator has keeled over and died. It lost power, for one thing, but for another? It totally cracked along the top. This is not a good thing, folks, and renders it useless entirely of course. I mean, I could have maybe dealt with the fact that it wasn’t quite as vibey as it used to be, but the crack in the top would just be painful.
I have never had a single vibrator that has “stood the test of time,” despite the fact that I try very hard to take good care of my toys. (I did, however, drop the most recent one… which is how it wound up cracked. I’m not that … ahem, hard on my toys!)
But, eh, I have an excuse to shop, I suppose? Or, something to add to my wishlist to ask for for Xmas? (Would that be XXXMas? I’m going to Hell.) Now… this time around I want a bunny! 
I have no other excuse for myself, or my lack of blogging, but the 2, I mean 3, I mean 4 of you that read this are just going to have to forgive me, because… because I love you. And I’m cute. And you love me, too… right?!
I’m working really hard to get a project done for KH, because it’s long overdue, and it’s been one hell of an exercise in remembering how to work with CSS/XHTML. It’s long overdue, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been bustin’ my butt. I’m way out of practice.
Not that I’m what I would consider a “pro” at it, anyway, but I do love coding/designing.
Oh, and speaking of design work… I would never charge someone $700 for a template for a blog or whatever, unlike some design company I just ran into would/does. Are you shitting me? “Non-exclusve” but $700?! A whole grand if you do want it to be exclusive, but what if someone bought it non-exclusive before you decided to buy it exclusive? Does that mean you wind up paying 1k for something that someone else has anyway? Or does the design company go and demand that the other person/s rip down their templates. I wouldn’t do this even if I were a pro! Geeze.
Anyway, back to work for me.
I have the world’s… possibly the universe’s… best guy. Shall I tell you why? Because, seriously, the list could go on forever and ever.
And every day, I am more and more amazed, and I have to wonder, “How did I get so lucky?”
Oh, I mean, I’m not knocking myself there. Honestly, I’m not. I am fucking fabulous and anyone who tells you otherwise is just, I’m sorry, wrong! Was that cocky enough? Seriously, though, let me ‘splain. Fuck you, spellcheck! ‘splain is so a word, and it’s properly spelled.
My track record is pretty lousy. I mean, really, really, really lousy. We’re talking just epic fail all the way around. I mean, I had a few nice ones, one that I’ll always look back fondly on with a girl I’ll call Jayelle, which was short but sweet, and just didn’t last because we had lots of stuff in common, but way different goals and ideals, and they didn’t mesh. We’ll just highlight the really spectacularly bad ones, and start with the first person I was seriously involved with…
emT: I will give him credit and say that he was not a complete fuckwit.
(WTF Spellcheck! Fuckwit is so a word!) I call him “emT” here because a) he was one [an EMT] and b) his first name started with a T. Like I said, he wasn’t a complete fuckwit. But that’s about all I
can say for him. He was sometimes prone to forgetting super important shit… because mostly he was too preoccupied with himself. He drove a car he seriously couldn’t afford, he will probably be paying that car off for the rest of his natural life. Possibly for significant portions of his Afterlife. He was
not compensating for anything, was probably in need of penis reduction. Ow. Fuck. Er, better yet, let’s not.
DR: No, he wasn’t a doctor. Those just happen to be his initials. Was emotionally abusive and horrifically controlling. Was actually a troll, too. Found out the hard way that he was cheating on me, but at least I got the better Valentine’s gift. A pretty amethyst ring, that yes, I still wear because that fucker also has diamonds on it, and why the hell shouldn’t I at least have gotten something nice out of the deal? She got flowers. She also got an email two weeks later that read, “Hi, you don’t know me very well, but do you know where your boyfriend’s cock has been today? In my mouth.” Probably not the nicest thing I ever did. Maybe someday I’ll actually elaborate on that story, but since it’s not really one of my prouder moments, probably not.
Bane: Fitting nickname, and actually one of his choosing. He had dreams of being involved in Ultimate Fighting & shit like that. Thankfully, I will at least grant that he never hit me. After him mooching off of me for a long time while he “pursued his dream,” I did finally get smart. Laying around playing video games all day is probably not going to get you far no matter what your dream is, but since his only 2 activities EVER were playing games and “training” – meh. “Want to go out with our friends?” “No, I have to train after I beat this level.” Gah. When I finally called it quits with him, (we happened to be 3 blocks from my house, in MY car) he refused to get out of my vehicle, and so I left it and him parked at the, uh, park, and walked my ass to a phone to call Dad to pick me up. Bane did follow after me begging me not to call Dad, but fuck that. Dad was none too impressed with the fuck who wouldn’t get the hell out of my car. I mean, it’s not like I tried to drop him off in Bumfuck, Egypt.
XH: Physically abusive. A real charmer, right up until … You know what? I really am not prepared to cover this one. I’m just not.
Spunk: You know what sucks so hard about this guy? At heart, he’s a good person. Would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. Would give you the shirt off his back if you simply wanted it. But, it’s not a good enough reason to excuse some other behaviors. It’s not a good enough reason to excuse the fact that he was insanely jealous. It’s not a good enough reason to excuse the fact that he eventually became very obsessive after I broke up with him. Not a good enough reason to excuse the fact that he was still trying to “get in my pants” after we broke up, and after he was seeing someone new…
And after all this, I had basically convinced myself that I didn’t deserve a great person to share my life with. I was so convinced of this that once, it almost completely ruined what I have with KH. There was a significant chunk of time that he refers to as “The Pause” where we didn’t so much as talk to one another… all because I was so scared that I wasn’t “worth it” and that he deserved better; I was damaged goods, and more trouble than he should have to deal with. So convinced that the bottom was going to fall out on me that instead of waiting to see if it did, I kicked it out. Wasn’t it better to know when it was coming, and be prepared, than to get comfortable and then caught off guard?
Believe it or not, though, this is not about dwelling on the past. Rather, it is about learning from the past, and appreciating the present, and looking forward to the future.
I believe I am going to have a wonderful future with KH, and the present is not too shabby at all. Here’s to having someone to grow old with. The right someone to grow old with.
So, Lindsay Lohan is pissed at paparazzi for asking if her baby sis had a boob job, two Georgia men claim they’ve bagged Bigfoot, and I have an extra hole in my ass.
I’m not sure which of these stories is stranger.
Actually, I’m kind of surprised as to how Lindsay didn’t expect to be asked this question, or worse ones, about her baby sister. You can’t put someone in the spotlight without the paparazzi and the tabloids ripping them to shreds. It just doesn’t happen. So I guess the Lohan story isn’t that out of left field, except for the fact that she sorta has a point: why was that dude so concerned about a 14-year-old’s boobs? Creeeeeeepy.
As far as the Bigfoot thing, well I’m from Missouri, show me. If it’s Bigfoot, I wanna see. The article on Yahoo News does include a link to these guys’ websites, but I have a sneaking suspicion their host wasn’t prepared for the kind of traffic that comes from being posted about in the news. Just wait til slashdot gets a hold of you.
But, are we serious about this? You “bagged” Bigfoot? “Have you been gargling bong water?”
I would go check out your photos of your popsicle Bigfoot, guys, but your site is busted.
Now about that ‘extra hole in my ass’ thing…
I went to the bathroom a little bit ago, as I am prone to doing now and then on any given day, and I closed the door without realizing that I had company. Company of the small, cute, furry-and-demonic variety. (I love my kittens, really I do!) And of course, like anyone going to the bathroom, I dropped my pants and went to have a seat… only, apparently a small, cute, furry-and-demonic companion that I wasn’t aware of had decided that right then was a good time to take a peek into the toilet bowl. You know, right before I sat down on it. This is, of course, perfect timing, right?
Well, sure it is, if you want to wind up with kitty claws in your butt cheek. She (Dixie) noticed my fat ass delicious derriere begin descending. I however, did not notice her at all, let alone the paw she raised into the air or the claws that proceeded to extend from said paw. Well, let’s just say, the yelp was probably heard at least 3-4 doors down. Never have I stood up off the toilet so fast, except for that one time in Alaska, where no one warned me that I may be boiling my buttocks if I sat down immediately after someone else had just been in there and flushed.
Ow. Just ow.
On a side note, I’m not having much luck with having incident-free trips to the bathroom lately, but that’s a story for another time… maybe when I’m too drunk to realize exactly what it is I’m telling you all about.