Wednesday, April 21, 2010

It's My Party, I'll Cry If I Want To

Today, April 21st, is my mother's birthday. Well, I don't know exactly what the correct phrasing is when the person is deceased; is it "is her birthday", "was her birthday", or "woulda been her birthday"? I'm going with "is" because she was born on this day, regardless of if she's still around or not. So there. My dead mom, I'll phrase it how I want.

It's wearing on me harder than normal. Maybe it's because it's the first time my grandmother hasn't been around. I would usually have to keep upbeat for her sake, get her through the day, but now since she's not around anymore either I'm free to wallow if I so desire and I don't have to keep anybody's chin up for 'em.

There was a really random dream in the wee hours of the morn, you know that time of day/night when you dream that is so close to waking time that you recall every detail and even the emotion in the dream? Do you dream like that, or is it just me? Regardless, I have explicit dream recall abilities. I can experience the exact emotions from my dreams, which can be bad if they're emotional dreams as the feelings will stick around with me throughout the day. I was actually in a great mood today despite 1/ my mom being dead, 2/ my grandmother being dead and 3/having a too-real dream that hung around like a thick-pea fog.
So my dream. I dreamed that my mom was still around, but she was sick, with some sort of stomach ailments which were so painful she couldn't stand up. She could only lay around and moan because of the pain. Now, all of this is the fabrication of the dream, it has nothing to do with the circumstances surrounding her actual untimely demise. I'm just setting the table for you, so to speak.
In dream version, I was standing over her telling her that if she loved me enough she would hang around despite the pain, and I was crying for her to stay with me because if she left, "Who will I ever have to talk to???!!!" I was devastated to be losing my mother and my best friend. That's not only a dream feeling, but a real-life feeling as well. And she said, "I do love you enough, but I can't stay, it just hurts too much."
Then she died in my arms (that mirrors the real-life experience) and I woke up and carried that feeling and image around with me all day, and despite that - or possibly because of that - I enjoyed my friends and laughed out loud and went out for an hour and a half Mexican lunch and made plans for my vacations and drank wine in the evening and made some new acquaintances and ate a gyro and had sex with my boyfriend and reminded him I love him. I would say that I fit in a well-lived day in between all the work and obligations. Thanks, Mom. And Happy Birthday.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

A Thin Layer of Seduction

Thanks a lot, Brooke Shields. Thanks to you, I now have one more thing in life to feel inadequate about: My eyelashes. I used to be perfectly happy with them. Well, happy enough. I mean, I was always interested in trying out the newest mascara -vibrating or otherwise - but never really had eyelash insecurities. Until Brooke started prancing around on television talking about her skrimpy lashes and how a doctor-prescribed serum can make 'em worthy of batting once again.
Well, I of course have been intrigued. I'm not quite sure which sort of doctor would write a prescription for eyelash thickener & grower cream. Can I get my gynecologist to write one?? Does it have to be an eye doctor? I thought of asking the ear-nose-throat specialist for one, since I've been there most recently. But alas, I just purchased some from Walgreens (that's a whole 'nother story, just you wait!) and have been coating my lashes (and brows, figured I'd give them a whirl while I'm at it) religiously, morn & eve for about a week now. And ya know what?? On Thursday someone asked me if I was using new mascara because my lashes looked "different." Really?
Now, I'm not sure myself, and I didn't take my usual "before" pictures so I can't be sure if there's really a difference or not. But if they get so thick I can't open my eyes, and need to take a scissor to them to prune 'em back, then we'll really be on to something. I'll let ya know. So far they're not so heavy as to be weighting my lids down. But Brooke Shields, thanks a lot, you've added two more steps and $15 to my beauty routine. Before your commercial I didn't even know I was supposed to be concerned.

Now, back to Walgreens. I've wondered who in the hell would go there to buy non-emergency items like makeup, and how they could support having an entire wall filled with beauty products. But then I had to run in on my way home from work for a can of cat food. Ya know, so the puddy's wouldn't eat my eyes out while I slept that night. Anyway, I popped in for a couple cans to stave 'em off til I could get my big shopping done later in the week. And as I walked in, the Wonder Wall 'O Beauty started winking at and seducing me. Coupons were taped everywhere offering 2-for-1 deals that were oooh so enticing!

Sixty-eight dollars later and I knew that the Walgreens slicks were diabolical thinkers. And I had my L'Oreal lash-plumping-&-growing promise in my bag.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

So That's Why I Have No Musical Talent

Where shall we begin? I seem to have been on an unintentional hiatus, and believe you me, it's not due to lack of titillating (heehee, the 12-year-old schoolboy part of me chorts*) content. First, we need to step into the way-back machine and dial back about two weeks, to vacation. I guess it's not so much a "way-back" machine as a "back-up-a-little-bit." Grand Cayman. We'll stop there for a bit.

Mr. M. wanted interesting photos? Well, here ya go. I'm serving one up to you RIGHT NOW:

We stopped in at Senor Frogs and had some drinks while I waited for a teeny little diamond bauble to be sized up for me. She is a newlywed, on our same cruise ship, and coincidentally from a neighboring Cleveland area. Good times were being had.

The whipped-cream-squirting dude told me I was next, and tried to cajole me to hop up onto the bar for some body shots. First of all, I seriously doubt my hop-up-onto-the-bar abilities, and somehow it would be much less sexy if it took a couple dudes to hoist me up. More importantly, this body is already shot. No good would have come of any of it. Enjoy the newlywed with the perfect tan and figure. No need to humor the old lady.

Other things we did besides watch body shots being licked off a girl included going on a tour that stopped at the turtle farm. We had just a few minutes to walk around there, the rest of the people in our tour van wanted to skip it entirely but I protested as it was part of the package and I wanted to see the turtles. So the driver gave Kenny and me 15 minutes at the turtle farm by ourselves while she took the rest of the mean tourists... to the rum store.

The turtles were cool. It was a "look at your leisure" kinda deal so we wandered around and saw some girls (20somethings) just picking turtles up out of the concrete ponds and posing with them. I wasn't even sure if you were allowed to do that, or if the turtles would die, or more importantly bite your fingers off, but she grabbed one up for me and we got our chance to hold a turtle, without consequences. I dubbed her "The Turtle Whisperer."

Notice my fantastical hat? It seems I like to have a cowgirl hat while I'm in tropical destinations. I had actually seen this hat while we were at our first stop in Costa Maya, but didn't buy it because I couldn't trust myself to be making the purchase. I didn't know if I truly wanted it, or if it was a decision influenced by too many of these:

Let's not forget the follies of Cabo San Lucas during the Spring of '09, when many many Cabo-ritas led to this decision:

Seemed like a good purchase at the time.

So knowing my history (and I was too hurried to really negotiate, we had to get back to the ship, but I'll go with the thought that I was making a sensible decision), I didn't purchase the hat until I had time to regret not purchasing the hat. Lucky for me, they had Pe-Lenty of the them in Cozumel! Lucky.

I traipsed around Cozumel and Grand Cayman in the hat, and then the hat became the very reason I almost had a nervous breakdown while at the turtle farm. How could an innocent little hat, purchased during sound mind and with reasonable decision making abilities, become a source of conflict? Well, it was the combination of two little factors that seem harmless enough in their separate formats, melding into The Perfect Storm of WTF.

Lizards/Iguanas everywhere. High atop trees. Nestling in bushes. Running around sidewalks. The ability to move super-duper fast and get into tall places and possibly LEAP from those tall places. Who can trust 'em? Not me, I'll tell ya.

And then, The Hat. Specifically, the dangling beads on the back of the hat, added to charm and delight the consumer. I'm sure the designer never once factored in that the beads swinging down the back and entwining within the hair could ever make one think that perhaps a tropical critter had leaped tall buildings in a single bound and landed on a touring tourist.

It was a mild and hushed-quiet freak-out. I stood stock-still while instructing Kenny through barely-moving lips to get whateverthefuck was on me, OFF. He laughed, naturally. And sort of swept his hand around my shoulder, insisting he saw nothing, and laughed some more. I was rigid but managed to continue walking until I felt it again. Insisting he GET IT OFF ME, he discovered the source was indeed my magical hat beads.

Here are some other fascinating tidbits from vacay.

In Cozumel, for planned day at the beach, my Hunka-Hunka-Burning Love dressed for the occasion:

I've said it before: Hands off, Ladies. He's taken.
There wasn't much going on in Costa Maya, and in fact the only reason to stop is because the cruise lines partnered with the Mexican government to create a stop. It's nice, with a pool/swim up bar, shitshops, and a restaurant/bar, which is where we headed to watch the festivities.

And we were able to watch Costa Maya providing it's own version of Sexy Times:

Oscar, our Costa Maya bartender, said he had the best job in Costa Maya because that was his view every time a cruise ship stopped and there is always some sort of girl-rubs-girl shenanigans.

Abstinence was encouraged in Belize:

Apparently if you abstain until marriage, you will be happily able to play the bongos.

*chort: simplied version of chortle; combination of chuckle & snort. Suck that, Merriman-Webster.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Conversations with (Drunk) Kenny...

Thursday night we met some friends at a little local hangout for some Karaoke and beers. Why in the world would Kenny be interested in Karaoke Night, since his job is so immersed in it? Well, he knows the bar owner pretty well, and of course he's addicted to the Keno, so he was in. A little sidebar here, this happens to be a bar that I used to hang out in back in the late 80's, early 90's, a group of us would go dancing every week. We had a reserved table, kinda like Studio 54, only with more piss on the floor and less movie stars. I also met my 2nd ex-husband here. I think there'll be better luck with Keno (p.s., I did hit 5 of 7 numbers on a ticket last night, but it only paid a disappointing $11).

But I digress. So we went to Mr. Peabody's Pub. We had some beverages. And sang. And carried on a bit. We were celebrating Long Jesus Weekend and 82-degree Cleveland weather. And chocolate. That's a whole lot to celebrate!
At the end of the night, after singing rousing renditions of Neil Diamond's Brother Love Travelling Salvation Show and a little Harper Valley PTA (oh, and of course we did a duet of Summer Nights), Kenny needed something to eat since we had enjoyed a dinner of cereal prior to going out.

I pulled into Rally's, which was really quite busy at 1:00 a.m. Question: How many drunks do you think are in the Rally's drive-thru at 1 a.m.?? All of 'em, would be my guess (except for me, as the designated driver).
While I wasn't drunk, I ordered like a drunk. In my defense, I haven't been to Rally's in YEARS so I'm not familiar with the menu and it was dark out and I felt rushed. So a bunch of orders just spewed out of my mouth, anything I saw on the menu I seemed to blurt out. The order included healthy items such as hot dogs, chicken tenders, seasoned fries, Big Bufords, and something on sourdough bread with bacon - I don't even know.
While waiting at the window for our late night "snack," Kenny informed me, "I'm gonna work on my book this weekend (slur)....I want to write it my own way, in the first person, and with a lot of dot dot dots."

It seems he's a fan of the dot dot dots...I wasn't aware of this prior to last night...I tried to get to the reasoning behind it, and all he could say was he likes the thoughts to trail off, so the reader can fill in their own ideas...and then he can transition to new thoughts with dot dot dots without being all concerned with the grammer and punctuation...see how that worked out right there...maybe he's on to something...all this time in all my thoughts of writing, I've never really given the dot dot dots their proper due...I guess I'm going to revisit the uses for the dot dot dots...maybe that's a pretty good idea after all!...this has been a pretty fun paragraph to type!...try it for yourself...okay, that's all for now...fill in your own thoughts here...