Flip-floppers, and my Mom's better than your Mom.

I hate when celebrities go around crying about political issues. Are they really going to surprise us with anything new? "I'm a big famous Hollywood/rock star. You may be shocked to find that I am liberal and think every single Republican is the devil." That's the jist (gist? Fuck if I know) of every single thing they say. I almost wish Susan Sarandon would come out and blow up an abortion clinic or something, just to shake it up a little. Ok, maybe not blow it up, but you know what I mean. Don't get me wrong. I am all for the whole freedom of speech thing, I just think people that get paid to read off of a sheet of people are not necessarily the people I want educating me on the issues of the day.

That's what trustworthy and unbiased news sources like the Fox News Channel are for.

Ok, not really. But back to my story. So tonight I was watching the "Concert For Change" on the Sundance Channel, and The Dixie Chicks came out. I am a big fan of The Chicks.Back when the dreaded comment was made about Bush by Natalie Maines and all the backlash happened, I was frustrated on both sides. I hated that she got on stage and made the dumb comment (yes, I know it's her right. I hate political celebrities, though), but then the horrendous effect it had really upset me.

After 9/11 there was this militant patriotism that was happening, and anyone that said anything perceived to be "unAmerican" was outcasted and boycotted, and brutalized in certain areas of the media. People weren't playing them on the radio, they were burning their CD's, and threatening to not buy tickets on their next tour. Their album sales dipped a little bit, but it didn't have the disastrous effect all those wacked Bush supporters predicted it would have. I saw them that summer in Vegas, and every single seat in the MGM Grand was filled. And it was great. In spite of the fact I didn't like that she said it, I was glad they still had the support of their real fans.

Anywho, at this concert I watched tonight, Natalie made a comment that people still come up and ask her if she regrets making the statement that she was ashamed Bush was from Texas. She said she thought about it, and said no. That would make her a flip-flopper, and GW doesn't like flip-floppers. Heh.

---

And speaking of music, one of the best concerts I ever saw was Dave Matthews Band at Dodger Stadium, years ago.He is an amazing live performer. And, incidentally, the only concert where I spontaneously made out with a complete stranger. What can I say? "Crash Into Me" has that effect. Well, that and I was stoned out of my head.

That reminds me of a story. Back when I was like 18, I think, Kay and I were going to the Depeche Mode concert. She had some weed, and some papers, and that's it. Neither one of us knew how to roll a joint then, and realized right before we were leaving that we were going to be shit out of luck if we didn't find someone who could roll it. It was late in the night, and anyone we could think of was already out. Pathetic pot smokers, we were.

So, I bit the bullet, walked out of my bedroom, and into the den, where my Dad was. I was nervous as shit, because they had no idea I smoked pot ( I realize now that of course, they knew. My parents knew all the dumb shit I did). I knew my Mom and Dad were partiers (and still are, God help me), and they didn't really hide much from me, so I knew they could hook us up.

"Uh, Mike[stepdad who I refer to as my Dad]?"
"Yeah?"
"Kay got this stuff, and we need your help with it before we go to the show."

"What is it?" At this point, I handed him the baggie, with enough pot to make three good sized joints, and the papers. I didn't say anything, or even look at him for a minute. He looked at me, with the tiniest smile on his face. He knew how uncomfortable I was, and he loved every second of it. He just said, in a stern voice, "Wait here." He went upstairs to their room where my Mom was, and came back down about five minutes later and gave us two joints. All he said when he gave them to me was "Don't drive if you're too high, and don't ever tell your sister about this." Then I noticed that he only gave us two, and he gave me a look that told me if I had the balls to ask where the third one was, I'd better get the hell out of the house.

So we got the hell out and went to the concert. Me and Kay got high and lusted after Dave Gahan, while my parents got high and put on Dark Side Of The Moon.

Good times.

Thank god it's Friday.

It’s lovely in southern California, and the weather is fabulous today. A little cold, but the sun is out and the sky is blue. I woke up in my Friday morning good mood, rocked out to Duran Duran on my way to work, got a wonderful pumpkin latte from Starbucks, and was ready for work. Which is pretty laid back on Fridays, so it’s all good.

When I logged into the company network, and I had a friendly email from Celestia wishing me well on my upcoming surgery:

[Our boss] told me that you’ll will be out after next week because you are having
some operation. I think that you are willing to have a dangerous surgery that might kill you is not smart. I also think that it is unfair that we are going to have to do you’re job tasks while you are gone having some surgery that is not even required by your doctor. I am very busy with my own things and will fall behind because now I have to do your work, too. Well, good luck with that.

Isn’t she just wonderful? Note the lack of grammar skills, and the friendly way she condemns me and then wishes me luck. Do you see what a schizophrenic wacko she is? This is my life everyday.

Jesus, if you’re reading this (and why wouldn’t Jesus be reading my diary?), please make her go away. I’ll never say goddamn again.

Thanks, Jesus! You’re the man!

---

I was chatting with a friend this morning when I was reminded of a story from my childcare days.

All of the kids at this school were children of two working parents who worked non-stop, they were the same age as MY parents, and they dropped their kids off when we opened (at 6:30) and picked them up when we closed (at 6). Some parents even offered me extra cash to open sooner. That’s how involved most of the parents were with their children. Nice.

As a childcare provider, the most frustrating thing to me is a kid who has no common sense. So from day one, I made it my goal to instill some damn sense into these kids. Well, it just didn’t take with some of them. For example: Zack.

Zack was a second grader, and we were all convinced he was gay. He never played with the boys, always played with the barbies, he sang songs from musicals like My Fair Lady and The Sound of Music, and danced. Everywhere. He danced on the way to the bathroom. He danced on the way to the park. He danced walking from his classroom to the daycare site. And, as the final confirmation of his burgeoning homosexuality, for Halloween one year, when all the boys were Cowboys, or Batman, or the Red Power Ranger, he was Kimberly, the Pink Ranger. He was a sweet boy, but not terribly bright.

On one day, during the summer, we were eating lunch at the park. I always had a big circle of kids that I hung out with, so we were sitting there, and I noticed Zack had some pretzel sticks. Well, watching him stuff five at a time in his mouth, it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going to happen next.

I got distracted by some kid getting flung off the merry-go-round, when I felt a little tap on my shoulder, and heard, “Um… Andria, can you help me?” And, when I looked up, it took every single bit of energy I had to hold in my laughter. Zack had a pretzel stick stuck way up his nose. I have seen kids get more shit stuck up their noses than I ever thought I would, but this was the funniest by far. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t upset, he just wanted someone to take it out. But, with all of the liability issues, for shit like this we had to either take him to the ER or call 911. And I have to tell you, I would have felt like a real jackass telling the operator (who was busy dispatching police for people being beaten, raped, or murdered and what not) that I needed help because I had a kid with a pretzel stick shoved up his nose.

So I drove him to the ER, which was right up the street from where I worked. When we finally got in, I had to call Zack’s mom, and she laughed just as hard as I did when I told her. She was one of the cooler parents.

His mom, Janet, asked him why he did it, and Zack said he wanted to see how far it would go. That was the excuse of almost every single kid that put a pencil, a crayon, a lego, a Popsicle stick, or anything else up their noses.

He also asked the [extremely hot] doctor if he could eat it after he got it out.

I really miss that job (and those kids) sometimes.

---

Tomorrow night we are going out for Kay’s birthday (which is really on Halloween) to some hoity-toity Italian restaurant that I have never been to. But the owner is a friend of Mr. Big Shot’s, and I have seen his AmEx bill, and that place is expensive, man. I could think of a thousand other ways I would like to spend $50 than on dinner. And that doesn’t even include drinks. At times like these, it’s hard to be the broke motherfucker in the group.

---

For the longest time, I swore I would never get a cell phone. I was against them, and against people who couldn’t go ten minutes without their stupid cell phone ringing no matter where they were or what they were doing. People could not believe I didn’t have a cell phone, as if life couldn’t be lived without one. I always made the joke that I don’t want my purse to start ringing when I am trying to decide which tampons to buy.

So, after my sorry un-geographic ass got lost alone at three in the morning driving home from the Mitchells' place, I decided that I had to throw my principles out the door and get a cell phone (and believe me, if you would have seen the dark and desolate place I ended up, you would have pissed yourself with no phone, too). So now I have become one of those retards I hate- driving with the stupid cell phone in their hand, yacking away like it’s perfectly normal to talk to your friend about the nonsense of the day while you’re driving, because that conversation just can’t wait until you get home. I have even paid extra for cute wallpaper and a Beastie Boys ringtone. I am such a loser.

Well, last night I was at the store, the stupid cell phone rang, and guess what I was doing – buying tampons.

Movie bombs and big black dongs

Showgirls is perhaps the worst movie I have ever seen (barring any movie featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000 - another geek reference). And for that reason, I love it, and must watch it whenever I see it on. The writing is bad, the acting is horrendous... it's fantastic. If you love cheesy shit and you haven't seen this train wreck of a film, I highly recommend.

---

A few months ago, Jason and I were shopping at the adult toy store. We were browsing, making childish dildo jokes, when I happened to notice someone familiar out of the corner of my eye. I told Jason not look up, and not to move, but my EXTREMELY conservative supervisor's son was standing on the other side of him. So, being the sensitive and understanding guy that he is, picked up a three foot long black dildo and said in a nice loud voice, "Hey, hun, did you say you wanted a smaller one than the one we got last time? What do you think of this one?" Needless to say, I was humiliated, and Nick and his girlfriend were looking right at me. I dragged him out of the store, and thought for sure that everyone at my office was going to think I got off with some giant rubber dong.

Today, Nick (the son) came into the office, and it was the first time I had seen him since that day. Feeling awkward, and sensing it from him as well, I broke the ice and said "So, Nick... bought anything interesting lately?" Then I asked him if he told anyone he saw me, and he said no, because then his uptight Mom would know he was hanging out at the toy store himself. I am such a retard - that didn't even occur to me at the time.

Duh, Andria.

---

So is anyone besides my Diaryland Twin reading this drivel? Because so far, she's the only one willing to admit to it. Leave a comment. Tell me how funny and clever you think I am. Alright... lie if you have to. But give me some feedback. It makes me all tingly down there.

A real big dick, and a guy with a giant penis.

I almost never leave the office for lunch (we have a kitchen, and I always take my lunch and read... I am a dork), but when I do, strange (like seeing a guy standing outside an apartment building with an aluminum bowl on his head), funny (deranged nascar fan calling me a cocksucker for liking Jeff Gordon while I am driving, telling small children they're assholes, etc) and sometimes disturbing things happen.

I was stopped at a light, and I noticed this car had an assload of stickers on the back, so I inched up closer to read them. First, in the middle is the big \"W '04\" sticker, which is bad enough. But whatever. People are entitled to feel the way they do. Then, there is a couple of Jesus fish, and next to one of them, a right-to-life sticker that says abortion is murder and Jesus is going to get you, or some shit like that. There were a few miscellaneous NRA stickers, more Jesus shit, and then the one that really threw me into high gear: it said some jive about marriage equals a man and a woman, and then underneath that, it said "adam and eve not adam and steve" (which is getting pretty fucking old. I wish the homophobes would come up with something more clever).

I should preface this rant by saying that I have zero tolerance for ignorance and stupidity of this sort. Especially homophobia. I have wonderful gay friends, and I have watched them be treated horribly by people for no reason other than the fact that they are gay. It really does just disgust me. And everytime I see shit like this car, it just reminds me that no matter what year it is, somethings will never change.

I really can't believe that these people are proud to be driving around in a car that advertises what a bigoted, intolerant fuck they are. I don't understand the need to drive around in a judgementmobile condemning society with all that shit. I know that people have certain views on things. I just don't get it.

If a guy wants a dick up his ass, why does Hitler in a Honda Element care?

---

Enough of that serious crap.

I got some action last night, and it was awesome. Be jealous, ladies. He's 23 and he's 6'7. And all that height is proportioned... EVERYWHERE. He was fabulous. And a good kisser, too, which makes him so much more dreamy.

So I spoke to coffee date boy on the phone last night, and I am worried about this man's ability to hold a conversation. Seriously. I mean, I thought he wasn't talking much because he was nervous when we met on Saturday, but he wasn't any better on the phone last night, so I don't know if I'll go out with him again. I mean... I should, right? I shouldn't write this guy off just because he's shy with the chit-chat. Maybe I should give it another chance, dammit.

Sometimes being single really sucks ass.


I guess I did break up with Jason. He hasn't talked to me since that stupid email I sent him. Goddamn that guy is such a baby. I suppose I am better off.

---

My surgery is next Friday. I am so excited, I can't stand it.

I have slowly started telling my co-workers what I am doing, to explain why I will suddenly be gone for six weeks, and why their workload is going to be increasing. Everyone has been really supportive and cool, except for - SURPRISE- that evil bitchwhore Celestia. She hasn't said anything to my face, but she said plenty to the boss. Ugh. Bitch.


Crap. I just totally forgot the rest of this entry.

Surprise parties and surprise break-ups.

Today was a pleasant surprise for me. I got a call from Kay, telling me to cancel my semi-blind date, but she wouldn't tell me why. So, I called the guy, and told him I couldn't do dinner, so he suggested just meeting for coffee early in the day. I think coffee is the perfect thing for a blind date, so I was all for it. That way, if one of us is not into the other, we're only out an hour or so.

I met him at a Starbucks near my office, which is just a block from the beach, so we could grab our coffee and take a little walk and see the ocean, which I love. And, it was a gorgeous day, so it was nice. It was... ok. I wouldn't say it was bad, but it wasn't good either. I think the fact that we've been partying the two or three times we have met each other made it a little awkward, because I am not the same drunk as I am sober, let alone in the nerve-wracking first date scenario. So the conversation was a little bit forced, and he's not very talkative, which isn't real good when you're trying to get to know someone. I would ask all the dumb first date questions, and he would give me one word answers. He also only asked maybe one or two questions for every five that I asked him. So, you can imagine how that was... but he's super smart (brainy makes my nipples hard!!), he's nice, and he's cute, too. So we exchanged all the contact info (cell numbers, emails, messenger id's), and decided we would talk this week and make plans for the weekend to do dinner and a movie. Hopefully with a glass of wine or two, I can get this guy to talk.

---

My Mom called me and told me that my Grandma left something for me at her house, and that I should come and get it before they left for a party at four. So, on my way home from the date, I stopped by my Mom's, only to be surprised with a little dinner party for me with my family and my immediate group of friends: Kay, her husband DMX, their son RAM (who is my own little piece of heaven on Earth), The Good Girl, her man DB, Angela, her dipshit husband Barney (that's his REAL name), their new baby Jack, my sister Jackie and her retard boyfriend, and lastly Briton, who everyone keeps trying to push me to get with, only because we like alot of the same dorky shit, and we're already friends in the same group, so it makes it easier for everyone. Well, easier for everyone except he and I, considering neither one of us is even remotely attracted to the other.

I couldn't believe my Mom went to all the work of cooking all of that food for me!! She doesn't really like to entertain too much, so I was really shocked. Man, that shit was good.

Then my Mom and Dad made this toast that actually brought me to tears, which I don't do often - at least not in front of all of my friends, that was really very nice. I am so lucky to have the parents I have. I bitch and moan about them a lot, but when it comes right down to it, they're alright.

So, the food was fantastic, the dirty martinis were flowing, and many, many laughs were had. It was a great time. Well, it was good for everyone except DMX, because once my Mom's had a few, she looooves him, and kisses on him shamelessly. It's hilarious.

RAM, who I just can't say enough wonderful things about, calls me TT. Kay always called me "auntie" to him, and when he was learning to talk, he could only say TT, so it stuck. And now, even though he's five, and knows the word auntie and knows my name is Andria, he still calls me TT.

So, he comes up to me, and whispers in my ear that he has something for me. He pulls this little piece of paper out of his pocket and gives it to me. I open it up, and it's a heart, and inside he drew two people. He wrote his name above the boy, and TT above the girl. You've got to be a heartless motherfucker not to love that. My Mom jokes that I don't want to have a kid because I know I could never love it as much as I love that kid. She may be right. I adore him. And not in a Michael Jackson kind of way.

---

Alright. Enough of that crap.

I think I may have inadvertently "broken up"(if you can call it that since we're not even a couple) with Jason. Dammit.

We had another day of sexed up emailing while he was at work last Sunday, and then he tells me "maybe" he'll call me later that night to come over. Jason loves to tease, so he says maybe, even though we both know he's going to be over later. Well... when I didn't hear from him by ten, I called him and he didn't pick up. Man, was I pissed. You have no idea how turned on and worked up he gets me all day, and I am so ready for him to come over and give it to me, and then... nothing. I fucking hate that.

So, I do exactly what I shouldn't have done, and write him an email. Basically, it said I didn't want to do the whole teasing bit anymore, because lately I have ended up getting nothing at the end of the day, so it wasn't really fun anymore.

Well, he took that ALL wrong. He took that to mean that I didn't like the little sex games we play(which I do, by the way), and that I was somehow rejecting him. We had this fight a few months ago when I told him I didn't want to be tied up, or blindfolded, or use any toys, or any of the usual stuff we do. This one time I wanted JUST HIM, and he got really offended for some reason. Jesus, this guy is moody when it comes to this shit. For a guy I am "not in a relationship" with, he sure acts like we are sometimes.

I just want a normal fucking man, who won't act like a retard all the time. I mean, seriously, is that too much to ask for?

Sometimes it's ok to curse at small children.

Be happy for me, people. I got my insurance approval, and November 5th I am having my surgery. I am so excited for all the changes that are coming. I can't wait!!

Someone emailed me after reading my entry the other day about my frustration in waiting for my approval. And, he pointed out that I am what's wrong with society today, and the very reason I am having this surgery is the reason I am overweight: my laziness. I understand that people have opinions, and they're entitled to them. But I don't need to hear that kind of bullshit, especially when this giant dickhole knows nothing about me except a bunch of rambling nonsense in some online diary.

I don't need to defend myself to anyone, let alone this asstard. If I know you, then you can lay it on me. But I don't. So, dear sir, take your opinion and kindly fuck off.

This guy made me cranky, dammit.

---

The Hot Egyptian was somewhat irate when I told him I would be having surgery. My body was what he was first attracted to, and says that he doesn't know if he'll still be "as attracted" to me if I lose a ton of weight. For fuck's sake, man. I can't win with these men. I am beginning to think all the guys I see are getting together and conspiring to make me go fucking crazy, because I have been steadily stressed out this whole week because of them. Bastards.

---

Is it wrong to call a little kid an asshole to his face? I mean, if you're in an elevator, and some yappy kid is pushing EVERY SINGLE BUTTON (repeatedly), screaming at the top of his lungs while his moronic mother chats away on her cell phone, is it wrong? Well, today I did just that. I couldn't help it. I love kids, but I can not deal with the ones who don't know how to act civilized. And that kid just wouldn't stop. When I got in, and tried to push the button for my floor, he screams out, "I am the elevator man! I am the only one to push the button!"

Fine.

"Ok, I need three, please."

He stands there. In front of the stupid buttons, not pushing shit.

"Three. Please. Thanks."

Mom is still yacking it up on the cell phone, not even looking at her evil little being. The elevator is not moving, and I am blowing through my lunch break, so I say, "Push the three, you little asshole. I am in a hurry." Ok, maybe it's wrong to talk to a seven year-old like that, but I couldn't take anymore.

Do you think mom got off the fucking phone to stick up for her kid? Nope. Why would she? She wasn't even done telling whothefuckever about the new cashmere sweaters she bought at Nordstrom's. Christ. People like that should not reproduce.

---

Tomorrow night I am going out with a friend of a friend, which I am nervous about. I have met him a couple of times, but always at parties, and usually one (or both) of us are drunk. Sober Andria is not quite the same as the Andria who has had a few shots of Patron. Boy, is this guy going to be in for a surprise.

Sigh. Wish me luck.

Fudge packers, crazies, and Spice Girls, oh my!

Hmmm. Today at work, I had a little run-in with Celestia that really made me scratch my head. I really can't figure her out. Just when I think she is just plain crazy, I begin to question myself, and think that maybe she is some sort of evil genius. I don't know... maybe she has just been fucking nuts for so long that she is a master manipulator by now. I won't bore anyone with the details of the argument, but it ended with me imagining new and clever ways to put my foot up her ass. I wish some other company would realize that their office is severely lacking some craziness and offer her a fabulous job. She has latched onto Mr. Big Shot's health craze, and has earned a little place in his fitness-obsessed heart in the process. I would love to think that he would be smart enough to recognize her nose so far up his ass, but he hasn't so far, and that blows.

I need some sex.

Now.

---

Is it just me, or is anyone else sick of the Lindsay Lohans and Hilary Duffs of the world? Man, I get so sick of turning my TV on, or reading a magazine and seeing those two. And don't even get me started on that retard Britney Spears and the jackhole she married. Christ.. lose the hat, Kev. You already look like a giant pussy following Britney around like her little whipping boy. No matter how badass you try to look, you're still a back-up dancer, and even worse, now you're MR. BRITNEY SPEARS.

---

Today, on my way home from work, a funny (and perhaps somewhat frightening) thing happened. As I mentioned in my last entry, I am a crazy nascar fan. And I LOVE LOVE LOVE Jeff Gordon. So, naturally, being the trashy fan that I am, I have a 24 sticker on the rear window of my car. For those of you who don't know who Jeff Gordon is (that's just crazy talk!), he illicits a very strong reaction in the older fans. When he came into nascar, he was young, from California, and just started kicking all the old southern guys' asses. So they all hate(d) him. So I am driving in my car, clueless to anything except the Motley Crue CD playing (shutup - 80's metal rules!), when this truck pulls up along side me and this guy in the passenger seat yells out his window "Jeff Gordon is a fudge packer!" I mean, come on. How could I react in any other way except to laugh? It was funny. So then, wanting to get me pissed I am assuming, he says, "Jeff Gordon sucks cocks! And you suck cocks too (well, he's got me there) for liking that homo!" I have to respect the guy's passion. I mean, we're driving in fucking traffic, and he feels strongly (and psychotically) enough to stick his head out the window and yell at some dumb girl driving next to him. What a lunatic. I love when shit like that happens.

It reminded me of when I worked in daycare, and one of the first graders came up to me and asked me what a fudge packer was, because his older brother called him one. The most ironic part of that is, those boys had no mom and two dads, if you know what I mean. So, I said what any other responsible childcare provider would say at a time like that: "You'll have to ask your parents."

---

Ever since I posted the last entry, I have had this damn Spice Girls song in my head. Someone...please...make it go away.

It's hip to wear a Spice Girls hat. Really.

Well, it looks like all the wonderful rain I have been enjoying has moved on. I know living in Southern California I am supposed to want sunshine and warm weather and all that jazz, but fuck that. I love rain. Celestia, the office psychopath (who really has nothing going on in her own life except to update everyone in the office on the weather every single goddamned day and how much snow Mammoth mountain is getting right at this very moment), said “maybe you should go to Seattle if you love rain so much!!” I am not even going to tell you where I thought of telling her she should go. Retard.

---

Yesterday I had to go visit a Pulminary doctor (pulminologist? Pulminist? Pulminarian? I don’t know what the hell they’re called), and I was the only person in the office less than 1000 years old. Well, as I was forking over my $30 copay (ouch), I noticed one old guy in particular. He must have been pretty close to 100, could barely speak, couldn’t hear, had huge cataract glasses on, a walker, and the very best accessory of all: a Spice Girls hat. Jesus Christ, I so wished I had my digital camera on me.

---

I still haven’t heard about my surgery. Seriously, I may have a heart attack if they don’t give me an answer soon. I hate this. This is worse than being a kid on Christmas Eve. Well, unless you’re a Jewish kid… then you pretty much don’t give a fuck about Christmas Eve. Whatever. I just want an answer already.

---

I was happy to see the Red Sox wipe up the field with the Yankees’ asses last night. I am not a big fan of any team in particular, but I am always happy to see the Yankees get eliminated. They are way too cocky. Although, I would go console Derek Jeter personally if he’d let me. Call me Derek. Seriously. I may not be one of those boney groupie girls in low rise jeans and a halter top, but I have low self-confidence, which means you can pretty much go all Kobe Bryant on my ass. Alright. I probably won’t let you go there. Whatever. Just call me, ok? Thanks.

I don’t really follow any sports religiously, unless it’s a bunch of rednecks driving in a circle for four straight hours. That is all kinds of hillbilly fun, people. I loooove nascar. I am so white trash.

---

Work is so not happening today. I can’t think straight waiting for this stupid insurance approval. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself this morning about this whole thing, whining about why my insurance won’t approve me when every other idiot seems to not have a problem getting it. Until my girlfriend (the one with the new baby and the dipshit husband) told me that her Mother’s cancer has come back, and that her insurance won’t approve her stem cell transplant. Fucking hell, man. What the fuck do we pay for insurance for? They won’t approve a goddamned procedure that is going to SAVE HER LIFE?

I used to think politicians were the devil (ok, they still are), but now I think insurance companies are running a real close second. Bastards.

Alright, I am done. For now.

Dear Asshole...

Ok, I have spent too much time focusing on the shitstain that dissed me a couple of weeks ago after we hung out. I hate to admit that this guy is stuck in my head, and has affected me in such a way. So, since I have no way to get a hold of him now, I am going to use this diary to write him a little note:

Dear Jerkass,

I am not happy to admit that I am thinking of you this long after we met. I am not happy that you made me feel less strong than I am; needy and stupid. I am not happy to admit that I wish in spite of my anger, that you would call or email me and let me know that you're alive, and you were trapped in a well for 2 1/2 weeks, and that's why you couldnt' call me. Most of all, I am not happy because you turned out to be just like every other shithead guy I have dated lately. And I was so convinced you weren't.

Guys like you make me sick. You earn my confidence, and engage me in hours of conversation. Intimate and personal conversations. I confess to feeling lonely, and lost, and frustrated, and sometimes hopeless. You confess all of the same things to me. You use my vulnerability against me, by telling me that you had not thought about being in another relationship until you met me, that I was in your thoughts all the time, and that you couldn't wait to talk to me every day.

We share all of the things we have in common. The same bands, the same movies, the same stupid jokes. You impress me with your sweet and sensitive nature. You open up and tell me personal things in such a casual way that suggests we have a lifelong intimate relationship.

We meet. We talk, we kiss, we lay next to each other - kissing, talking, touching... holding each other all night. You tell me that you can't wait to be back, and to be in my bed next to me every night.

WHY GO THROUGH ALL OF THAT FUCKING SHIT IF YOU DON'T INTEND TO FOLLOW THROUGH ON A GODDAMNED THING???? I don't understand. I really don't get it. Is this some game you play? Are you really that much of a prick? I suppose I already know the answer to that one.

You have made me feel foolish. That won't happen again. You blew it. Big time. Dick.

Have a nice day.

Today is the first day of my life. Or some shit like that.

Today I am feeling nervous and anxious like I haven’t felt in a really long time. I can’t concentrate on any work long enough to get anything done.

See… about six months ago, I started the process of getting approval from my insurance for gastric bypass surgery. Since it is not covered initially, many steps and about a thousand bizarre medical tests have to be done to determine whether or not they will cover it. They have denied me twice already, requesting additional info, and now they have everything they want, and I may hear back from them today. My heart is racing.

This has been an incredible journey for me. My doctor initially proposed this surgery to me about two years ago, and I said no immediately. But I took a lot of time, did A LOT of research, and really thought long and hard about the quality of my life now versus the quality of life after the surgery.

So, in spite of all my fear about having major surgery to redirect and dissect my digestive system, I met with the surgeon my doctor recommended and began the pre-operative process, along with waiting for my fucking insurance to come through. I haven’t told many people about it, except for my very close friends, my sister, and Mom and Dad. I will tell my family and co-workers when (and if) I get approval. I don’t want to have to deal with peoples’ negative attitudes toward this procedure if I don’t have to.

I have been fat for so long, I don’t know what it’s going to be like to not carry all of this weight around with me anymore. I have tried and tried since I was 14 to lose weight, and I have failed at some point every time. I have had an assload of medical problems, all that can pretty much be fixed by this surgery. I don’t want anyone to tell me that this is an easy way out, or that I am too lazy to do it on my own. I have fought this my whole fucking life, and I don’t want to deal with anyone’s negativity.

God, I am a fucking mess of nerves right now.

Actually, the whole reason I am friends (well, mostly the reason) with the lovely Mrs. Mitchell is because I found her journal online and she mentioned “the surgery” a few times, and that is what initially made me email her. She has become an amazing friend and a great support during all of this, having gone through it herself. I am so grateful that I found that journal.

Wow… I do believe this is the first entry I have posted that doesn’t mention sex or contain one smartass comment.

Jesus… what the fuck is wrong with me????

Blame it on the rain.

It's two in the morning, and I am wide awake. It's raining out, which I love, but it also sucks. Rain is so romantic to me... it conjurs such images in my head of being stuck inside, of sex, and passion, and all that good stuff that I am currently not getting.

Goddamn it.

Loneliness is a motherfucker, people. Just when I think I am a hip sophisticated chick who can sleep with whoever she wants with no strings attached, it fucking rains and I turn into a giant pussy.

I am so frustrated I don't know what the hell I want anymore.

---

So I went out to see my friends The Mitchells (who will actually be a real live married couple soon!) last weekend, and we watched "Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind". I hate movies that make me feel stupid. And complicated movies that are told ass-backwards and/or out of order don't work too well for me (I also think directors that make movies like that do a real disservice to the film itself. I mean, I spent 3/4 of the movie trying to figure the shit out, instead of having all of my focus be on what's going on at the moment in the movie). Whatever. In the end, it was a good movie, and I loved the premise, but the out-of-order sequence doesn't work for this cranky girl.

I am dense. I admit it.

---

Sigh.

It's not raining anymore.

Blah. Update. Blah.

Friday night, I was hanging out with Kay and some other friends, and she decides to put in "Farenheit 9/11", which is a mistake. I couldn't imagine what would compel someone to put in such a movie when everyone is just hanging out, having drinks and having fun, but she did. And not only did it kill the mood (boy did it EVER), we got into our most heated debate ever over this whole fucked up mess in Iraq.

I stopped watching the news months ago, because it saddens and enrages me when I see that more people are dying over there.

But politics are incredibly personal, and I am not going to change anyone's mind about the way they feel, so that's all I am going to say.

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I haven't had sex in over a month. This is not good, people. I have played around with both Jason and The Hot Egyptian recently, but due to some abnormal menstrual curse, penetration was not happening. I have masturbated so many times that I think I am going to electrocute myself if I keep it up.

I almost had a chance with Jason tonight after several steamy emails went back and forth, but I lost out to his lame-o motorcycle friends. Fucking motorcycles.

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I caved last weekend and made a huge mistake. The AOL jackass I complained about who made plans with me and then never showed, never called, nothing - popped up online late last Saturday and told me this sob story, which I bought (like a pussy), and he came over. We just talked, and made out, and we fell asleep together, but that's it. What the fuck is my problem?? I never should have talked to him after all that shit he pulled.

I am so weak if I think there's a chance I am going to get laid, I swear.

---

Yesterday, this guy instant messaged me and we had a very interesting conversation. Basically, he wants to come over to my apartment, dressed like a french maid (with full makeup as well), and serve me in whatever way I order him to do. And, if he doesn't do whatever I tell him, I get to punish him in any way I see fit. I am no dominatrix, that's for sure, but I really hate cleaning, so I am thinking about it.

Stand back - I'm radioactive.

Well, here I am on Friday night with nothing better to do than update my journal that no one reads. I think.

I bought a digital camera this week (I am the last one to catch up to the technological revolution, I admit it - shit, I just got a cell phone for the first time three weeks ago), and Jesus Christ, it was worth every penny I spent.

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There is another guy I see sometimes, The Hot Egyptian (that should be pretty self-explanatory), who was the only one of my dopey guys to call me on my birthday. He called right at midnight, so he could be the first to wish me a happy birthday. It was sweet of him, and I was glad he called, but I wish it would have been Jason doing it instead. Oh, these boys cause me such stress sometimes.

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I had to have a freaky medical test yesterday and today. I won't go into too much detail now, but I had to have this cardiology test, that is similar to the tests doctors do when they make you run on a treadmill. Only I didn't run on a treadmill. I laid on a bed and they put an IV in my arm and gave me a shot that made me heart act like it was running. Which is a bizarre fucking feeling, people. One minute my heart is racing, my head is pounding, and my stomach is in gut-wrenching pain, the next minute the doctor gives me another shot and I am completely back to normal.

Then I had to go lay on another table for what felt like forever while I giant camera was about three inches from my chest taking pictures of my heart. That was rough, because the tech told me I couldn't move when the test started. And of course, every part of my body itched or hurt in some way that made me want to move.

Then I had to go back today so they could inject me with some radioactive nuclear shit and take more pictures with the giant camera.

Medical science is some crazy, freaky shit, man.

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Tomorrow I am going to hang with my lovely friends The Mitchells for some belated birthday celebration. They are insane movie freaks, so every time I am there they show me something weird and wonderful I would never have thought to see on my own. And Mrs. Mitchell is making me cake, so that's not so bad either.