Monday, August 31, 2009

And we're done.

20 years ago:

Every day we went somewhere different to eat. He wanted to have some of everything before he went off to boot camp. I was 6 months pregnant, and everything…and every smell turned my stomach. But I went, because I still WANTED to eat, even though almost nothing stayed down and because I knew that time was slipping away. Soon, he’d be gone. And I’d still be here.

The last day before he left, we went out and came back to pack & clean his (always dirty) room. I fell asleep, as usual, in his bed. He woke me up, because it was time for me to get back and he had to get up early in the morning. I cried. Because I was feeling all sappy, and I always do when he goes away (yes. even now). He hugged me and told me that he would be back soon, he would write and he would call.

I didn’t go to his graduation, because I was not feeling good enough to make the drive. But I saw thousands of pictures, of him in his brand new Marine Corps uniform. Did I mention that I LOOOOVE a man in uniform? Because I do. And he was extra skinny. Because in boot camp, you didn’t walk; you ran. EVERYWHERE. And don’t be the recruit lagging behind. Or so I’ve heard. I’m a lollygagger…just one more reason that I never would have cut it in the USMC.

But I did the next best thing... which, is sort of like joining. I married a Marine. I’ve lived with the *locals* in Hawaii and Boston, on Marine Corps bases in San Diego and Army (?!) bases in Yuma and am now back in Southern California. I’ve spent up to a year intermittently pining for The Man while he went unaccompanied overseas. This would not be including any time he spent in the sandbox. Which was time spent quietly (and sometimes NOT so quietly) freaking out because there was a pretty good chance that he was going to be shot at maybe not make it home. (For which I thank GOD EVERY DAY that he did. REALLY), and not sleeping because I was worried I was going to miss his call which was always at the most randomest of times, or not sleeping because the news only likes to report how many people died in Iraq/ Afghanistan (which is why I stopped watching), not how The Man was doing over there.

I’ve sat not so quietly when the moving people were shoving all my shit in a box for the NEXT duty station. I’ve comforted both brats when they moved to another school AGAIN. I’ve cleaned more apartments to look brand spanking new so I could get my deposit back…and sometimes paid a cleaning lady (heh). I’ve memorized The Man’s SSN# because it’s the only one that matters in the military-- I’ve forgotten my driver’s license but NEVER my ID card. I’ve called the Red Cross because I needed to get in touch with The Man RIGHT NOW, and I knew that was the only way. I’ve opened my home to single Marines since the day I got married, so they could ALWAYS have a home cooked meal. I’ve lost touch with military wives because it used to be so hard to keep in touch/ have the right phone number when everybody is changing duty stations/ husbands are complaining about phone bills. I experience sticker shock every time I go into a grocery store to buy eggs & milk.

Today is The Man’s last day as an enlisted Marine. Tomorrow, he will OFFICIALLY retire/ be a civilian. No more ironing Cammies (although I haven’t in quite some time), early morning PT sessions, unit/battalian formations, or doing stuff because the Sgt. Major said so. I have no idea what I’m going to do with you not going TDY, or going on field ops, or having duty…plain & simply underfoot all the damn time.

But I am so happy to have you home.

(I love him even though he is a rat bastard UCLA fan)

Thursday, August 27, 2009

I've got mail

I have several thousand e-mail addresses. The one that I've had since I've had a computer (an AOL e-mail address if you can believe it). I keep it so that people who have lost touch with me will always have a way to find me. I always check it, and it's also generally the one that family uses. A Yahoo one that I use for "other stuff": paypal, promotional e-mails for stuff like RueLaLa, discount hotel offers to Vegas (please stop it. I can't afford to go back yet and all these super discounted rates are mocking me. MOCKING ME), concert information - because I go to a LOT of concerts, it's also linked to my Facebook, and...back in the day..I even got porn to that e-mail address. Long Story. I have an "I'm a professional" e-mail address, a work e-mail that I sometimes, okay...OFTEN get personal e-mails sent to, and the one for here: youbethekettle (at)

I got a lot of fucking e-mail addresses. But, I'm going to talk about my yahoo one. Why? Because it's becoming the bane of my freakin' existence right now. I've never had so much mail in my entire life. This yahoo one... generally, if I sign up for something, that's the one I use. Unless I'm mad at The Man. Then I use his. I know. Fuckery at it's finest. But at least he knows my horoscope, and when Tom Jones is going to be in concert. Moving on. I signed up for Facebook on a fluke. Because a friend of mine has all of his pictures there, and I couldn't see them until I signed up.

ANYWAYS, for a long while, I never used it. Then my sister was all "Hey, DINOSAUR, get with it and get on Facebook." Which, SURPRISE! I was already on but not using. So then I'd posted an update:

I signed up for a fantasy football league. I have no idea what I'm doing and draft day is Sunday. Suggestions, comments...HELP?
Yesterday at 8:54am · via iGoogle Gadget · Comment · Like · Remove

Let the crap-tastic amount of e-mails begin: "...XXX commented on your status..." Heaven forbid that you mess around and comment on somebody ELSE'S status. Because then? You're getting eleventy thousand emails every time ANYBODY comments " also commented on JoeBlow's status". And I don't even know these people, more importantly could care less what they think. More to the point, I would prefer not to get an e-mail everytime somebody says BOO.

These e-mails add up. Facebook will send you e-mails if somebody:
  • sends a message
  • adds me as a friend/ confirms request
  • posts on my wall
  • pokes me
  • tags me in a photo
  • tags one of MY photos
  • coments on my photos
  • comments AFTER me on a random photo
  • leaves a wall comment
  • comments AFTER me on somebody ELSE'S wall story
  • sent me an drink, or a smile, or a chug it request, or a sorority life thingamajig
  • does anything at all to me
  • the list goes on and on....
My e-mail was blowin' up y'all...and not in the good way. In the "Fuckin' A...what the hell is all this shit?!" way. I was deleting messages so fast that I was actually MISSING the stuff I wanted to read. Don't you hate that? You're all in the zone and before you know it, you've deleted that pre-sale info about NIN's final tour and you threw it in the trash because you thought it was another g.d. facebook message?

So. I went back and changed everything. Unchecked it ALL. I don't want y'all sending me e-mails about anything. I will check my own friends requests, and respond to those people I want to respond to and ignore everything else (No more pillow fights, food flings, what kind of rock star am I, no kisses, no hugs...just...NO)

I can just feel my aggravation ease now that I am no longer receiving crazy amounts of e-mail. Well... I mean I *STILL* receive crazy amounts of e-mail, just...about stuff I care about. Like $35/night room rates in Vegas, and pre-sale info for various bands (speaking of...WTF Paramore?! I can't/won't take a 13 year old girl to a concert on a THURSDAY, she's got school on Friday), and upcoming boutiques. Even though I'm sort of on a haitus for shopping/concert going, I still wanna know what's going on in the world of people who go places and people who do stuff.
So I'll content myself with reading e-mails from cousins, of the next 9West sale, jokes from long lost friends, and comments from you.
YES, *YOU*. I see you reading this. Now, pop on in the comments and say "hey!"

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

WTF Wednesdays

A real conversation I had with my son & his girlfriend:

The Boy: Mommy! What happened to your foot?

Me: I went to the Green Day concert last night and some jackass kicked me in the back of my (just barely recovered from surgery) foot.

The Girlfriend: Did you at least punch him in the face?

Me: ....Yes.

Monday, August 24, 2009

On Year Seventeen

[Him & Me and baby makes 3, taken August 1992]

This picture was taken while I was vacationing in Hawaii 17 years ago. The boyfriend was stationed there and I had been dying to come visit. A couple of days later I would miss my flight back home, and let my THEN boyfriend/baby daddy talk me into getting married RIGHT NOW, instead of waiting for a big fancy wedding. Instead, He & I got married at Waimea Falls Park, with 2 people we randomly asked to tape our vows because the couple who were going to be our witnesses ended up having to go to the emergency room.

So it ended up being just me and him. Because the minister's husband took the boy off to look at the boats because he was pitching a major fit because he was hot and it was past his naptime and the screaming OMG the screaming...MOMMY-DADDY I JUST WANNA GO TO THE off they went before I knocked him into next week with a bunch of strangers watching because I was getting ready to marry this 21 year old Marine who've I been *in love* with since I was 15 years old, and I was nervous and completely freaked out about the whole "til death do us part" thing, because holy hell is THAT a long time, and even though I was pretty sure I wanted to do it thats a pretty large commitment from somebody who couldn't even buy a drink.

Anyways, back to what I was saying. Being in love is a funny thing. People always say that when you are as young as I was, that you don't really *know* what love is. It feels like love to YOU, but maybe it was just the orgasms. 'Cause let's face it, when you're young and fairly innocent, that's probably the best feeling in the world. Sorry. Digressing again. I was a senior in High School when I got pregnant with The Boy. Not young enough to think I had to get married RIGHT NOW because I was too stupid to realize antibiotics + birth control pills + fucking like rabbits = pregnancy.

After I had The Boy, The Man & I had a falling out of sorts. But in the way of teenagers who just can't get enough of each other, we went from not speaking to friends again (although, I won't lie. I'm a bitch who can hold a mean grudge if I'm so inclined. And I was). It wasn't easy, but I kind of figured I was going to have to deal with him anyways because he had anytime access to The Boy since he was stationed in San Diego and only home for the weekends. But somewhere between the letters and phone calls -you know, to check on us- he fooled me with trickery (and frequent trips to Knotts Berry Farm for roller coaster riding and funnel cake) into falling back in love. And I was all starry-eyed and thinking of Happily Ever After...which, of course, it wasn't.

There were fights, Lawd.Have.Mercy...the fighting. There were deployments, and another kid...there was moving, tears, re-enlistments, late night talks, pancakes, hospital visits, and death. There was drinking, because you can't be a Marine wife if you can't drink. Tattoos, fighting over the remote control and water balloon fights. Field ops, tummy rubs and playing darts. And sometimes, there was just lying in bed holding hands falling asleep while watching TV.

I dunno. The love I had 17 years ago seems so pale in comparison to what we have now. Love that we've held on to, and fought for, and MADE last though everything that we've been through. It's the difference between the first time you have sex and the best sex you ever had. You know, that OMG, I'VE NEVER EVEN KNEW I COULD FEEL THIS WAY feeling. The same and TOTALLY different at the same time.

Maybe that's what it is. Different, because this is definitely not the puffy heart and rainbow love of a girl of 19. This love is solid and real (although there are SOME puffy hearts & rainbows...usually after sex, but sometimes when HE fixes breakfast and I get to sleep in). This love has kept us together through all kinds of bullshit, it's kept ME from murdering him in his sleep and probably kept him from punching me in the eye. I know. All this true love and romance is sickening.

I'm sure that we've done lots of things wrong in our relationship, but I guess since we ended up in the right place, I won't complain (much).

So. Happy Anniversary to Us.

Monday, August 17, 2009


(So, I'm back from Vegas. Instead of coming home and falling into bed to sleep off the hangover/recouperate from hanging out all night, I came home with just enough time to get ready to see Depeche Mode. Because I'm awesome, or ridiculous, or have horrible time management skills. Either way, may I present you with the things that I heard or/and said this weekend.)

You got an L.A. face, but an Oakland booty (I'm not sure what that means, but I still let him pinch my ass. Heh.)

Are you going to be able to fit all that in there? #snort (see also #thatswhatshesaid)

I just smoked a margarita.

She’s so cute I just want to pick her up and put her in my pocket. (My SIL is 4’10 – definitely pocket-sized)

Pirate Booty. And not the good kind.

That is totally awesome. With no awesome sauce on top.

Yep, DJ Jazzy Jeff. And no Fresh Prince.

I don't want to keep him, I just wanna play with him for a lil' while.

Yeah, Indians. Dots, not Feathers.

There's some hoes in this house...if you see 'em point them out. (A SONG. Although, you know...if you see one...)

It was ghetto fabulous. WITHOUT the fabulous.

Sir? Please don't hump your girlfriend in here. Take her back to your room. then she threw up.

The next time we come back, we ARE going to go to Rehab, instead of always saying No, no, no.

I'll have ANOTHER Jack Daniels & Sprite.

Can I have a $1 Yo bet?

Damn, do I love Vegas.

Put that thing back where it came from. Or so help me.

I am SOO fucked up.

It's 4AM. I have to get up in 4 hours to drive back home.

(So there you have it. Some of the more interesting comments made over the weekend. I'm SURE I left out a lot, some of which I remember, some of which...I don't. And probably all for the good. I would also like to thank my Sissie, Prima & Lil' Bit -the SIL, for a fan-fucking-tastic road trip AND Undomestic Diva & Starts with an X for an awesome dinner date. I had so much fun hanging with you "ladies". I would also like to mention that UD can really shake a tailfeather on the dancefloor. Heh. )

Friday, August 14, 2009

F My Life

This morning I caught The Boy in bed with his half-naked girlfriend. HALF-naked because I timed *my bust in the door* perfectly. Fuck me right in the ass why don’t you, Karma? (Just because I once slept over to the THEN boyfriend's -now husband- and his Mom found me sleeping in the bed did not mean that *I* needed to have the same experience. REALLY)

My son, who has been home all of 3 months, is driving me insane. He moved up north because his girlfriend is going to school there he says he loved it so much that he wanted to live there and go to school even though:
1. He’d never even HEARD of it until his girlfriend took him up there to look at her school
2. He had no job
3. Or a place to stay
4. AND his parents are not rich

And since he STILL didn't have a job, and the friend with whom he'd been staying told him he needed to start paying rent, he decided to come home. Because I really did mean it when I said I’m not going to pay MY rent AND yours.

He came home, still not sure what he wants to do. Then we had a "I realize that college may not be for everyone, but if you DON'T go to school, then you sure as hell better get a job because you are not going to sit around the house playing your guitar all day and eating everything in the fridge" conversation.

I even told him that I know it’s hard to live WITH your parents once you haven’t, and so I’m not going spanking you about curfew (although, nothing is really open after 2AM in L.A. except legs, and I can’t have a boy with no job getting somebody pregnant, so do the math), and you’re too old for me to have to tell you what NOT to do. OR SO I THOUGHT.

I went to bed early because it’s my verb, but was startled awake because I hear doors opening & closing and while I’m lying there trying to decide if I should panic and wake The Man NOW or wait until some burglar bursts into our room and tries to kill me, I realize it’s The Boy trying to be all sneaky sneaky. And now that I’m awake, I have to pee. I notice that’s just a little past midnight, so I’m guessing The Boy thinks that everyone is sleeping and that his girlfriend is probably still here. So I give it a few more minutes and decide to scare them both and did I ever.

All I said was..."Really?"
If I'm going to be honest (and I am), I really wish I had a camera, because the look on that poor girl's face was HYSTERICAL and I wanted to laugh out loud, but I didn't. I'm sure she'd never been so embarrassed in her life, and that made me feel slightly better.

Then I said... "So, I'm assuming you know what to do now, right?"
Which she obviously did, because then she got dressed quick-fast and in a hurry.

But because I am totally about making sure You've Learned Your Lesson, I was waiting in the Living Room to making sure they both understood:


That's right. In Bold. All Caps.

If you want to get laid, you get a hotel room, sneak back to HER parents house, have sex in the backseat of her car, but not here. NEVER here. And yes, I really did say that.

Why can't they just stay cute little babies forever? Gah...

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Or maybe it's just me?

I’m SO glad I don’t have babies anymore. My youngest is 13, now, when I watch a show with her it’s to make sure that it’s age appropriate AND not porn. Which means in her case, I watch Degrassi, iCarly, and Total Drama Island (which I think is hysterically funny). When she was younger I watched TV with her to make sure she didn’t color on the walls or choke on a cheerio. Not really a hardship still: Teletubbies, Animaniacs and Sesame Street (do kids still watch that?). I mean, sure the Teletubbies were a little strange (a MAGIC BAG people, like Felix the Cat, Tinky Winky had a magic bag) but still. Ultimately not horrifying.

Fast forward to Tuesday. The Brat was watching her 5 year old & 1 ½ year old cousins. First, it should be mentioned that The Brat does not like kids. Not even the ones she’s related to. She has frequently put the crazy one (Niece #1) out of her room when she comes over and follows her around inundating her with questions with a hysterical case of hero worship. My mom called me to find out how close I was to home because she left her grandbabies with The Brat and she had no idea how long it would be before she snapped. I was less than 5 minutes away.

Imagine my surprise when I walked in and the girls were NOT crying. In fact, The Brat was dancing around with the mean one (Niece #2), while the crazy one sang and played with my hula hoop (YES, I have a hula hoop...what?). I peeked in on them on my way to get some water. Then I came back because of the song. Me: WHAT is this? The Brat: it's Yo Gabba Gabba. Me:..? And then the main characters came on. Ummm...can anybody see that?

No, NOT the weird dude in the hat (although WTF…?) Riiiight next to him.

I kept watching and all I could think of was:

I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of vibrators while watching this kiddie show. But can you blame me?

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Four days of [blank]

Day 1
Saturday - I hit the gym. I had an early hair appointment because I was going to a wedding. I figured that it wouldn't really matter if I sweat my hair out since I was getting it washed.
Day 2
Sunday - I was exhausted from Saturdays festivities
Day 3
Monday - Too lazy to hit the gym. BUT, isn't that why I have a wii fit? Damn skippy it is. Bring on the step, the hula hoop AND the strength exercises. I'd also like to point out that even though my wii forgot my name AND told me exactly how many days it's been since I last stepped foot on it, I still dominated the advanced step. So take that, you sarcastic Wii fit.

Day 4
Tuesday - Since The Man didn't replace the batteries on my board, I opted for different exercising. Jillian's 30 day shred. I'm not going to lie and tell you that I'm going to do 30 WHOLE DAYS of this shit, but I will from time to time work this into the rotation when I don't want to go to the gym/don't have a lot of time to work out/feel like being intimidated by DVD.

Now, with photo! I love this color:

Teal. I love Hot Topics nail polish.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Tainted Love

I’m sure in the beginning it was cute. He was so in love with you that he wanted to know where you are all the time, and you were so in love with him that you told him…because trust is the basis of any relationship. You didn’t have anything to hide, after all. He wanted to have babies with you. And you, so accustomed to men that hit you and kept you in fear, men that raped you and made you believe that this was how a husband was supposed to treat his wife… you were enamored of his insecurities, his neediness, his non-threatening behavior. This was the opposite of everything love had been for you.

Every couple has ups & downs, but yours were extreme as roller coaster rides. Clicking slowly to the top of extreme euphoria then hurtling warp speed into downward spirals of anger and confusion. Why can’t he love me the way I need to be loved? Why is he acting this way? What did I do wrong? And I have no answers for those kinds of questions.

He’s alternately told you that he loved you while doing things that mean the opposite. There are no sticks & stones, but words he uses to hurt you. He destroys your self esteem by telling you that you’ve gained so much weight that it’s hard to be attracted to you, and yet…sabotages any effort you make to lose weight. He says you’re always crowding his space, but stops talking to you for weeks at a time if you go out with the girls. Even after all of the ridiculousness he put you through, you want him to marry you, you INSIST that he marry you, and so he does.

It’s been so many years. You are still unhappy. His insecurities have increased, so much so that he is jealous of any time you spend away from home, even work. He hates all of your friends and sees us as competition for your time, when he's not hitting on them and pretending it's the alcohol. He’s done the unthinkable, and it almost destroyed you. And even now you sleep under the same roof, maybe even the same bed.

Even today, you say that even though a part of you hates him, you still love him. I don't know what you want me to tell you. I'm not going to tell you to go, and I'm not going to justify why you should stay.

I can't tell you who or how to love. I can only tell you that love to me, is comforting and loving, sexy and fun, safe and uncertain, even scary. Because you're trusting someone with your heart for safekeeping. It doesn't tear you down with words leaving you internally broken and bleeding, praying that he would just hit you already, so you can show somebody, anybody at all the scars that he is leaving behind, instead of pretending to be okay.

I imagine it's a little like watching a recreational drug user take the downhill slide into full blown, life destroying addiction. You know what this relationship is doing to you and still you remain...trembling, waiting for his affection. You ingest his apologies and get high breathing in the smoky stench from the latest "I'm Sorry"...Hoping this time he meant it, he WILL change. And that quick, the stars are back in your eyes until the newest betrayal.

I would call this behavior a lot of things: crazy, dysfunctional and more importantly delusional.

But I would never, ever call it love.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

30 Days of.....

For every one thing I WANT to do, I have 50-11 (is TOO a real number) things I NEED to do. Can you guess which one wins out? Example: I want to go to the gym. Seems easy to squeeze in, right? Hmm..But it's not. Because I have to be at work early AND THEN I have school until 10PM. And I refuse to go to the gym at 4AM (anymore) because that's too fucking early to be awake let alone running on a treadmill. Not to mention that makes my day longer than I can handle. Doesn't leave me with much sleep and I am a girl who needs- if not 8 straight, 6 hours of sleep. Unless you don't mind me being a hostile, unfriendly, emotionally unstable BITCH who is short-tempered and unable to hide behind any sort of facade of niceties or professional behavior. Lack of sleep makes it worse.

But honestly, I miss working out. It was one of the things that helped me clear my head and surprisingly kept my attitude on an even keel. Also, it gives me a confidence boost. I love love LOVE the feeling of a good workout. Makes me feel sexy. Really.

As I was going through my Reader, I ran across Room 704 30 days of [blank]. 30 days huh? I always thought that it was 14 days to create a habit. Whatever. What the hell do I know? I haven't been doing anything for 14 days either. Moving on...originally, I had planned to make these 30 days of pictures, because I just don't take enough pictures. Somehow though, it ended up being about my fat ass. I'm not sure how that happened. But anyways, there you are: 30 days of Working Out. (cue the fanfare)

I know that the first day was yesterday, but I don't usually post on the weekends...'cause you know...I got stuff to do, this weekend alone I went to a wedding, a concert AND a birthday party and that was just Saturday. But you'll be surprised to know that I actually DID squeeze some gym time yesterday BEFORE I got my hair done. And I'm going to tell you a little secret: I'm not real keen on hitting the gym after I get the 'do, did. But I will.

Also, just because I took it:

Day One.