(Hot &) Cold Contagious

The past two weeks have been interesting, I suppose.

Last week Steve was going emotionally hot and cold on me and that was entirely unpleasant. Granted, he was very ill on Tuesday & Wednesday, so I must alllow him a certain sickness grouch factor...but there was more to this than a simple malady.

The long and short of it is that we had progressed fairly quickly in our relationship and he was feeling overwhelmed, unsure, and frightened by the thought of a serious and perhaps lengthy commitment. I most certainly understand his fears. I hardly expected to be involved with someone else so soon after ending my relationship with Ben...let alone to be so seriously involved. It is scary...but I've decided that I'm going to take life as it comes. If something presents itself to me and it's real and it's good, then I'm going to linger over it, enjoying it for as long as I can.

I told Steve that he needed to make up his mind as to whether or not he is willing to lower his defenses and trust me...and as to whether or not he's actually ready for a relationship of the type that I crave. I'm getting older and more impatient and I don't want to waste his or my time with something that's going nowhere.

I'm a bit uncertain about the whole thing myself now. Actually I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid!!! I'm unsure as to how we'll interact from this point on. I fear that things may have already gotten too weird and we just won't be able to get back into a workable groove. There's a part of me that just wants to put the whole thing aside...it's the part of me that's tired out from stress with past relationships and that simply has very little patience left. And then there's the part of me that wants to believe, and try, and hope, and love.

I'm trying to gag the voice of doubt and let this optimistic part of me take control. Like Steve said, if we let this thing go without trying, we'll both regret it. And there are those things that I'm just not ready to lose...like his beautiful smile directed at me, his charming wit, the hot, sensuous kisses we share, the way it feels when we make love, and the way his body feels next to mine as we fall asleep. I'm far from finished...but now I'm afraid because he has made me afraid.

"but I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
here in this lonely place
tangled up in our embrace
there's nothing I'd like
better than to fall
but I fear

~ Sarah McLachlan from Fear

I have a small penis. So small, in fact, that it is sometimes called a clitoris.

A sort of birthday...

Today I am 25 years old. A quarter of a fucking century old. It's pretty frightening really, to think that a fourth of my life is spent. (If I'm lucky. Who knows maybe half or maybe nearly all of it is used up. Spooky.)

I slept in today and went out to eat with Steve at Bennigan's. My family members all called to wish me happy birthday today...but for some reason I feel a little saddened by this birthday. Twenty-five. *sigh* I think I'm just getting older and getting closer to settling down and having a family...and I'm afraid that I'll never do that, maybe. I want to be in love and happy and have stability and security. One of these days I will have all of these things, but for now, I suppose that the first two will have to do. :) Don't get me wrong...I'm not looking to get married or have a family right now. But within the next 4 or 5 years I'm going to be ready to be a wife and a mother. I never thought I'd utter that phrase, but there ya go. It's strange. I can feel the change coming over me. Whether it's a psychological process of maturation or mainly chemical with my hormones and body being driven to reproduce while I still can, I can't tell. I can just feel it.

On riding the wave...

As happy as I am with Steve, it looks to be a short-lived sort of happiness. He's getting paid shit wages at Rock 105 and he's been submitting resumes to other stations in bigger markets. He has an interview in Virginia in about a month and it's very likely that he'll land the position. I want him to succeed and he must certainly go if he gets the job, but it'll suck for me. A long distance relationship just won't be possible. I'm not built for one, nor is he. That will be the end of that. And so here I am, waiting to crash down.


"Sweet you rock
And sweet you roll
Lost for you
I'm so lost for you
You come crash into me
And I come into you"

~ Crash by Dave Matthews Band

With the help of some Gatorade, Pringles potato chips, and Mr. Perry, I was able to recover from my little hangover. Of course, my bender didn't do anything to cure the bladder infection. Nope. Instead it progressed into a kidney infection which kicked my ass on Saturday.

My side was hurting all Saturday morning at work and then I went over to Ben's to watch Spirited Away (which I really enjoyed). The pain kept getting worse and worse and became more focused toward my back right side. By the time the movie was over, I couldn't move without pain. I went to the doctor's office and sat alone, hunched over in a chair in misery for 2 and a half hours until they got me examined, diagnosed, and prescribed antibiotics. I then went to Rite Aid to get the Rx filled. While there, I walked around slightly hunched over with this sort of Ozzy Osbourne old man walk and everyone looked at me oddly, but I didn't care. I was in pain, damn it!!! By the time I got home I was crying, it was hurting so badly. I went to bed and the magic of Cipro, several Advil, and a night of rest put me back on my feet again. Oh yes, and the McDonald's food that Cyndi brought me. I know the power of the golden arches helped me somewhat though that ordeal. :)

On Sunday night I felt well enough to go to the Regatta to see the fireworks. It was a decent display...about 25 minutes long. The highlight of the evening, however, was when this 10 year old little boy came up to me and asked me, "Hey! Tall lady! Tall lady! Can I have you're phone number?" I looked at him and laughed and said, "Don't you think I'm a little old for you? I mean what could we possibly have to talk about on the phone?" He replied, "What? You can't be any more than 18! We'll have lots to talk about, as pretty as you are." I laughed at the sheer guts (or stupidity) that this kid had and told him, "Okay. My number is 4. Don't forget it!" He then said that he needed 6 more digits at which I said "buh-bye" and walked away. I felt very dirty after the whole exchange was through. I've been hit on my old men, by teenager, by scuzzy men, and by attractive men, but never had I been hit on by a 10 year old boy. I felt a little violated, I think.

I went back to work on Tuesday and thus far they haven't mentioned anything about firing me. :) It's become a joke around the clinic now that we're all daily playing "Dodge Box", trying to keep afloat one more day in that wretched place. *sigh* I remember a time not too long ago when I was passionate about my job. Now I'm just getting burnt out by bad management. What the hell does it matter if I do a good job? No one's going to notice! And I live in fear of getting fired for some petty reason every day. Oh well...I guess job security is just too damn boring for me. I'm living on the edge, baby. Woo haa.

What else? I started my graduate classes on August 28th, so I have started down the path toward obtaining my M. A. in Psychology. Huzzah!

And things are still going good with Steve. You know, we all have that little mental checklist of things that we're looking for in a romantic companion...and honestly I'm in shock at meeting someone who very closely fits my mental criteria. He's intelligent, career oriented, creative and talented in the arts, he's funny as hell, he's sincere and very straightforward, he responsibly pays his bills, he keeps a clean house, he cooks. He does all that and he treats me with respect, tries to take care of me, and tells me that he thinks that I'm beautiful, intelligent, and just plain special. Wow. So no wonder I agreed to date him exclusively when he asked me recently. What girl would pass up being treated like a fucking queen?

But now, I'm off the market again. I didn't think it would happen so quickly...but here I am. I'm a little skiddish. I don't really trust human nature in general. I'm sure things will fail eventually. All things must come to an end...all things will pass. I'm just going to ride the wave until it comes crashing down on my shore.

Oh dear god, I'm nauseous.

Last night I hung out with Ben and I was feeling a bit of the bladder infection coming on...and someone once told me that alcohol can help cure one of those...so I got drunk. I got painfully drunk while Ben and I played Soul Calibur II, which kicks mother-fucking-ass! So now I'm here...it's 5AM...I've taken all of my sick days and I'm sick as hell. Stupid, stupid bitch.

Steve came over this morning after getting off of work and he's taking care of me. He's a very good man like that. Well...he's back with something salty and some Gatorade...so I'm gonna go.

Let's see...last weekend Ben and I visited Shawn and Chris in Columbus at their new apartment. T'was lots of fun with all the drinking of beer and playing of cards.

On Saturday evening we all wound up sitting on the little patio, the boys reminiscing over old AD&D adventures while I simply listened and laughed at their stories. Chris and Shawn's Scottish/Irish personalities took over sporadically and they began talking in thick accents that made their words mostly unintelligible for short periods of time. During one such fit, Chris took off and threw his shoes, belt, shirt, and finally his pants over the patio fence out into the apartment's community yard. Shawn also took his shorts off and tossed them over the railing. Shortly after, Chris went running around the yard, babbling while collecting his discarded clothing and wearing nothing more than a pair of gray boxer shorts. Good times with good friends. This is what life is all about. :)

After my return to St. Albans, I met up with Steve. I really missed him and from his reaction to me upon my return, I know he felt the same. He and I vibe well together. Everything is so easy and uncomplicated at this point. I'm sure it won't stay that way...nothing stays simple for long. But I'm going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

Thoughts on Mr. Perry: The things that strike me most about this man is how genuine and humble he is. He's very straightforward...no pretention to him whatsoever...and I really respect that. He is someone who knows himself and is not afraid to be himself. I assumed, because of his career choice, that he would be a sort of cocky, self-centered kind of guy, but he's very humble and very considerate of others. I feel that I'm fortunate to know him.

Other thoughts: I miss my friends. I wish we all lived in the same city so I could just roll on over and hang out to my heart's content. Something in me feels a little lonely right now without them near.

Cyndi and Steve have kindly been updating me on just how much of an ass I actually made out of myself this past Saturday. I think I'm not going to go to the Comedy Zone for a few weeks in hopes that I'll be forgotten. Yes, it was really that bad. The account that I posted on Sunday was my recollection, but not the whole story. Apparently, I was fortunate enough to have large portions of my memory of the night erased by the alcohol. (I didn't need those brain cells anyway.)

One such embarrassment was when, according to Cyndi, I nearly started a fight with another drunken girl. It went something like this: I was standing talking to Brian at the bar and then he went in the back. While leaning against the bar two girls approach and the drunk one tries to order a drink from me. I look at them and say, "Do I look like a fucking bartender, bitch?" If Cyndi hadn't been quick to apologize for me, I could have had one drunk-ass, redneck wench beating me down. Also, I apparently went on a "your mom" humor rampage for about an hour while we were at Dwight's. I told Cyndi that her mom fucks lesbians or something to that effect. I also shook my ass at a few guys that were heckling me while I was dancing. I'm a class act, baby. Oh yeah. Real sexy. *sigh* I'm so fucking embarrassed!

Yeah...I'm pretty sure that it was as bad as New Years...except I was in public. Cyndi had two options: to get mad at me or to simply laugh at me. She chose to laugh (alot), God bless her.

I freaked Steve out a little, I know. I apologized to him for acting like an ass at a place where he was working and representing Rock 105. He shrugged it off like the kind soul that he is. :) I'm seeing him tonight for the first time since then. Four weeks into seeing each other and I may have killed it already! Wooohooo!!! Way to self-destruct, Christina!!! Well, he can't be too freaked out, I guess...he's still calling. (Stupid bastard. He has no idea what he's signed up for does he?)

I think I should come with a warning label: Warning! Delicately balanced chemicals within! Do not shake, prod, poke, annoy, or disturb in any way lest your left testical shrivel up and fall off!

Good morning!

So, why, you might ask, am I up so early in the damn morning on Sunday? Well I'm going to tell you!

I'm starting to become a regular at the Comedy Zone and I'm getting acquainted with one of the bartenders in particular, Brian. Brian is a very nice guy who has been bartending for about 7 years, lost his license due to a DUI, and wants to go back to school to become a nurse. Brian is a very good bartender and makes kick ass drinks!

Anyway, Cyndi and I went out to the Comedy Zone last night and being in a strange mood, (PMSing) I told Brian to surprise me on a few drinks. The first he brought was a Long Island Ice tea, which was very strong, so I was smiley by the time I got to the bottom of the glass. The next was a Purple Lobster which was de-fucking-licious and Cyndi took sneaky sips and drank about 1/4 of it. (Sneaky bitch! You're lucky I didn't shove my straw through your gosh-darned eye!) I digress...so, back to my ever exciting story...the next drink was a Sex on the Pool Table, which was also quite yummy. Cyndi out and out stole that one and I ended up drinking her Sex on the Beach. (Hey! Wait a minute! Stupid whore stole my drink!!!) I don't even know what the hell the next one was and I didn't care. By this point the comedians were fucking hilarious and I was fucking trashed as hell. Four little drinks and I was on cloud fucking zero-niner.

After the show I walked (which required much concentration at that point) over to say hi to Steve before he headed out with his friends. I don't really remember what I said to him. I'm sure it started like this: "Hi! I'm drunk!" Why is it that all drunk people feel that they have to announce to everyone the fact that they are currently intoxicated? I'm sure that the goofy grin, the glazed over look in the eyes, the slurred speach, and the inability to walk properly are a dead fucking give-away!!!

Anyway, Cyndi decided to take advantage of my drunk ass and got me out on the dance floor. I shook my groove-thang with the best and worst of them for several minutes. While dancing I was pleased to notice that there were mirrors surrounding the floor and I was able to watch myself dance. (Hey it takes very little to delight me anymore. I am a simple woman. "Mirrors! Pretty! Yay! Yay!") I've decided there are two reasons that the club put those mirrors up: 1 -- To let those that can actually dance but might have been slightly overserved watch themselves dance so that they can make sure they still look good doing it. 2 -- To call the attention of the people who are making asses of themselves on the dance floor to the fact that they are making asses of themselves on the dance floor so they can sit the fuck down! Luckily I was one of the former and actually have never been one of the latter. May I never ever go there.

So after getting a little sweaty, we walked back and talked to Brian while he was ringing in his tickets. I, being as nice as I am and as drunk as I was, volunteered that we would give him a ride home. After all, he had gotten me good and wasted, he also lives in St. Albans, I know he's not a psycho killer because Steve and I have given him a ride home before, so why the hell not give the guy a ride? While we waited he brought out cheese sticks. Some guy approached me and started hitting on me while Cyndi and I were chowing down. I got a little mischevious and started talking to him with my mouth full of food and chewing with my mouth open where he could see. I figured he'd get grossed out and wander away, but no. He probably didn't mind what was in my mouth at that moment and was concentrating at what he wanted to put in my mouth later. I finally told him that Cyndi and I were going to "take the bartender home" and gave him a wink. He laughed and gave Brian a pat on the back and called him the man or something like that and Brian played along. Well...it was true in a way. We were going to take the bartender home.

We danced again and then came back to see if Brian was ready and to my dismay Steve came back to say hi. He had been hanging with the comedians and, unfortunately, watching me dance. For some reason I never intended to let him see me dance...maybe because I'm afraid that I don't dance as well as I think I do. Anyway, I don't remember much of that conversation either. He had a Ramones t-shirt on and I think I told him that I had one like it and had almost worn it.

Finally Brian was ready to go and we all piled in the car. Cyndi required some food so guess where we ended up! Yup! That's right! My favorite restaurant in the whole fucking world, Dwights!!!!! I realized just how fucking trashed I was when I could barely read the menu. It took at least 4 seconds for me to make sense of each word and I was started to feel a little overwhelmed when the waitress came back to ask me what I wanted. I ended up ordering the next thing that I focused on which happened to be chicken quesadillias. That was lucky. It just as easily could have been brown beans and cornbread. I hate brown beans and cornbread, but I would have ordered it and had to eat it to save face.

We took Brian home and Cyndi brought me home. I made her come in with me to check for creepy people hiding in my house. You never know...the convenience store sniper could have given up sniping outside of convenience stores and taken up hiding in young women's closets and gutting them like fish in their sleep. It could happen.

After Cyndi left, I was still sort of awake so I decided to call up Chris. It was 1 something in the morning and I'm glad that he wasn't sleeping. I remember parts of our conversation...and I just want to say that I'm sorry for subjecting him to my drunken ass blathering. Thanks for being a sport, Chris, you old cock-eyed jackal, you!!

I passed out around 2:15 AM. Steve called at around 3AM and I never heard the phone ring. I was O-U-T. I woke up at about 7:45 sweaty and feeling like every drop of moisture has been sucked out of my body, topped off with a mouth full of dried mucus. Delightful! I staggered upstairs and downed two full 16 oz. glasses of water and came down here to type this thing. Before sitting at the computer, I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror. Damn, am I beautiful! I am one fucking hot chick with my mascara slightly smudged under my eyes and my hair all tangled and mussed from sleep. Dead Sexy!!!!!! I feel pretty good, however. For some reason I don't get really bad hangovers anymore...and I think that's partly due to the fact that I don't drink as much as I used to on my binges. I've learned my limits. I know what it takes to fuck me up and I stop after reaching that point. I think my parents would be so proud of me. :)

Well, I'm going to go upstairs and have one more glass of water and then I might try to get a little shut eye. Again, good morning!

Sorry for the silence. Life has been a bit busy and crazy lately. Where to begin? Well the night after I last posted, my friend Cyndi and I went out to the Comedy Zone in Charleston. There I ran into a guy I had met earlier in the month at my friend Nick's house...and he went home with my phone number.

A bit of history: The weekend of July 13th I stayed the night at Nick's. The next morning his friend Steve came over to take him to Lolapalooza in Ohio. I recognized Steve as the DJ "Regular Steve" from Rock 105.1 and ragged on him about not giving me a free CD or t-shirt the weekend before when Zac and I went to the Comedy Zone. We chatted for a few minutes and I left to have breakfast with Zac and Tator and that was that. Over breakfast I asked Tator if he knew if Regular Steve had a regular girlfriend or was he open to dating? (I know it's a lame joke...my excuse is that I am a dumbass and I truly need no excuse.)

Anyway, I have to drive past the radio station every day on my way to and from work. For the next couple of weeks when I drove by and saw his car there, I would think about leaving a mysterious little note with my phone number on it. But then I would come back to reality and think how fucking weird and psycho that might seem. (Crazy? I'm not crazy...well...maybe a wee, wee, wee bit.)

Anyway, while at the Zone with Cyndi on July 26th I was approached by Steve and he asked me to hang out after the show. We sat and talked for a while and then he invited us to go down to Mulligan's to hear a band. So a bit later I was sitting on a bar stool at Mulligan's enjoying the band and the company that I was keeping. Steve confessed to me that after meeting me at Nick's he had asked Nick to arrange a meeting between us. Nick simply gave Steve my phone number and told him to call me. So for the two weeks that I was thinking about leaving my number on his car, he already had it setting on his dresser at home but was simply too afraid to call for fear of seeming weird or psycho. :)

During our conversation that first night, I asked him his last name and he hesitated, winced, and said, "Perry". I instantly burst out laughing and broke into song: "Don't stop believing...hold on to that feeling...Street lights...People...". And then I said, "You're kidding, right?" His response: "Um...no...I'm not." I laughingly apologized for picking on him and then thought of Baseketball and couldn't help saying, "Steeeeeeeve Perry!". Luckily, he was amused.

Since the 26th, Steve and I have seen each other about every other day. He's a really nice guy, he treats me with respect, he's very driven to advance in his career, and he's funny as hell. We have a lot in common and from the beginning our personalities clicked. :) Of course, that's what usually happens whenever you first meet someone that you're interested in. Well...we'll see what happens. Am I ready for a relationship right now? I'm not really sure. But I'm just taking it as it comes...one day at a time...one moment at a time.

I finally got my blog working properly again! Hurray me!

My templet was very out of date so I got a new one...and modified it to look like my old one. What excuse can I offer? Change is difficult. The important thing is that it's working and you don't have to wait a century for it to load. :)

Thoughts right now....I'm tired. I'm a little lonely, but I don't mind being alone. I'd really like to fall in love again. I'd like to make love again, not simply have sex. I want to feel that moment of awe and power and life that comes with exploring and cherishing the one you love. I want that one to love me in the same awestricken manner. I had it once and it was beautiful. But we rarely appreciate those beautiful moments when we are experiencing them. I'm trying to learn to appreciate every little detail and occurance in my life. Wish me luck.

Jeez! Working out kicked my ass this afternoon!!!!
I figure if I keep this up, I'll have no fucking energy to do anything, but I'll look damn good! :)

A Sad Day at the Methadone Clinic

It is as I feared. Captain Random is no longer employed at the clinic. He called the Program Director today and called back to give me messages to relay to certain individuals. This whole "sitchie" pisses me off. There are counselors at work that are probably farther behind than he was...it's just dependent upon luck, I suppose. He just got nailed, poor bastard. I hope that he keeps in touch. I'll miss him. One thing is for sure, my vocabulary has been irrevocably altered through my daily interaction with him for the past 7 months. Words like "sitchie' (situation) and "dealio" (deal), "choo choo" (train) and "pee pee" (penis) frequently find their way out of my mouth now. Take care, Enrique! Watch out for the "peters" (patients)!

Christina vs. The Volcano

Earler, after munching down a bowl of Special K Red Berries, I began watching a show on volcanos on the History Channel and I ended up falling asleep on the couch. The show was messing with my dreams. I dreamt that Ben, Chris, Shawn and I were going through some magic portal that put us on top of a volcano that had cooled just enough to form a thin cap over the mouth. We all kept getting covered with ash and I was worried about the others getting buried for good. The weird thing was that it was freezing on the volcano top...the ash reminded me of snow, I guess. That and the air conditioner was on full blast upstairs. :) I woke up very confused about an hour ago with numb arms and a puddle of drool on my pillow. Well I'm going to bed.

Sleep tight and watch out for the mon chee chees!

I went out with a few girls from work and my sister and sister-in-law on Saturday night. We went to Chi Chi's and then filed down to Atlantis Night Club.

Dinner was great, however the club was lame. The Convertible Blondes were playing and they were somewhat entertaining, but overall being in the bar left a bad taste in my mouth. I was in a bit of a pissy depressive mood so I just sat back and people watched. As I looked around I saw nothing but lonely, empty people trying to fill that emptiness with alcohol, loud music, flashing lights, dancing, and the hope of taking someone home. And I was there with them...one of them. I went to have fun...to forget about my concerns and troubles and to lose myself in a few beers or on the dance floor. But I sat watching and realized how futile their search and mine truly was.

A friend pointed out to me once that happiness can only be found in yourself. The act of looking for happiness outside of the self, desire, causes pain and suffering. Once you become reconciled to what is, you find a certain contentment and peace. I keep forgetting that. It's so easy to forget.

So I'm just going to try to be happy with what is...to live in and be happy in the moment. And if I notice things I am unhappy with I will do what I can in the moment to change them...but I will not dwell on the future. And I will not dwell on that emptiness inside my chest. The more you dwell on it, the more you feed it, and the larger it becomes.

So I'll just ignore it. Maybe it will go away.

Here's another Saturday. I will attempt to amuse myself with the company of my family and the company of some ladies that I work with tonight, in hopes that I can rid myself of the bad taste that this week has left with me.

Captain Random

Work has been more stressful than usual this week due to some interesting decisions by management. First of all, my dear co-worker Eric will no longer grace the clinic with his peculiar humor and his eccentric ways. Due to being behind in progress notes and due to being not very good at this documentation, he is being let go by management. He was told of this possibility last Friday and has taken all of his sick days this week to ensure being paid for them. He has a doctor friend that owed him a favor and wrote him an excuse for the whole week. The poor boy mysteriously developed an inner ear infection that can cause nausea and vertigo.

I'm greatly annoyed at the reasons he has been giving for his imminent firing. Eric and I trained together and we were never trained in how to write a proper progress note. We were told to document what we did, but now how to do so. I, being extremely anal, took that to mean that we write every little detail. Eric, being not so gifted as I with the written word, took that to mean that we document what was done and very breifly what was discussed. About two months ago they threatened him with possible discharge and I sat down and taught him how to write progress notes. Since then he's been catching his charts up, but it seems like they already had their minds made up.

I approached his supervisor yesterday and asked how far behind he actually was. She told me most of his charts hadn't been written in since May. I pulled three of mine out for her and showed her that I too had not written in many of mine since May. She then said, "Well...your case notes are more detailed...". I pointed out that everyone was behind at least to May because of the case load. She floundered a little. This whole situation makes me nauseous.

Eric called me earlier in the week to get a feel for what was going on with management and to tell Kevin "the dealio". Everyone has been asking where he has been, and everyone is afraid that he's quit or been fired, and I haven't been able to tell them. He is the guy at work that can make you laugh no matter how upset you are. He's one weird motherfucker, that's for sure, but he's well liked. Morale is going to plummet when this news hits the rest of the staff on Monday. But what can you do?

Here's to you, Captain Eric Random, Driver of the Choo Choo! You will be sorely missed!

Catching up is hard to do...

I know you're all aware of the fact that my case load and every counselor's case load at work is ridiculous. As a result, we're all at least two months behind in documentation. I usually go in and work on Saturdays in an attempt to get caught up. Today I got up and went in as usual and I was told to either go home or get written up since it was not my assigned Saturday to work. How fucking ridiculous is that? It's not like I fucking claim it on my goddamn time sheet! I'm there because I have about 7 patients that only come in on Saturdays and if they get take-homes for two weeks, sometimes my designated Saturday to work is not the Saturday that they come in to get their medication and I end up missing them totally!!!!! I'm also there because Saturdays are valuable days in which I can write progress notes and file paperwork!!! It appears that they do not want to allow us to get caught up. It appears that I, Aeon Flux, may be following Captain Random out the door if this continues. Motherfuckers.

A few good men...

I met up with Zac, Tator, Patrick B., and Nick (a few high school buddies) at Nick's apartment in South Charleston last night. We sat arouind talking and drinking, while Nick and Zac took turns playing acoustic guitar and the rest of us sang along to the songs that we knew. I had one too many girly beers (Schmirnoff Ice) and wasn't fit to drive myself home so I crashed there. Zac, Tator, and I did the Bob Evans breakfast this morning, as Patrick and Nick both had to jet early in the AM.

It was a fun evening spent laughing, reminiscing over past good times, and bringing each other up to date on the current status of our lives. Now that I sit back and think about it, these guys remind me very much of my current close circle of friends. I think that Nick would be the Ben of our group, Zac is Pat Strick, Tator is closest in personality to Shawn, and Patrick reminds me very much of Ken. I find it intriguing that Patrick and Ken are similar intelligence and personality-wise and both happen to be Asian American (one Vietnamese American and the other Japanese American). Very interesting.

Of Pirates and Extraornidary Gentlemen

Ben, Cyndi, and I went to see The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Pirates of the Caribbean earlier yesterday. The League had pretty special effects and cinematography, but a horrible script. There were a couple of good moments of acting, but for the most part the acting was really, really bad. Very overdramatic. Dorian Gray intrigued me...but that might be just because he was sexy and not that his part was written well. Anyway, don't waste your dollars on this film.

Pirates of the Caribbean, however, was fan-fucking-tastic! Awesome special effects, wonderful acting, great battles and action sequences, and very witty dialogue. Johnny Depp was hilarious as the charismatic pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow...and damn! he was sexy even if he was disgustingly filthy and dirty. (I'd roll in the dirt with him any day.) Ben and I went with his family to see it again today. It's just that damn good. Shiver me timbers! Go now to yonder moving picture house and watch this movie, me harties! Lest you end up meeting your end in Davy Jones' Locker! Yo ho ho! A pirate's life for me!

You've got junkmail!

Sometimes I wonder why I even check my email. It seems like I only receive advertisements for "quick and easy" loans, Viagra, or porn these days. And no messages from my friends. *sigh*

G-lame-our Shots

Anyway, a few weeks ago a woman I work with hosted a Glamour Shots party at her home and invited everyone at work. She got half of the cost that we paid for our pictures, so I decided what the hell. I deeply regretted my spur of the moment decision to participate once I arrived and the stylists started slapping coats of makeup on my face and teasing my hair up to the ceiling. But I got through it somehow....even though the photographer made me pose in one of the pictures with shoulders bare and a black cowboy hat placed over my ample bossoms so it looked like I was naked. I protested, but he forced me anyway, saying that I might marry a real country boy one day. "Not likely", was my cold reply.

Today our pictures came back and we again went to Jay's home so the salesman could tell me how gorgous I look in the photos and attempt to convince me how badly I need to "treat myself" to at least a $100 set of proofs, if not a $300 full set. My initial reaction when I saw my pictures was an uncomfortable laughter and I thought, "These look nothing like me! I look so fake!" They printed out 4 8x10s and the rest were on smaller sheets. I actually liked one of the ones on smaller sheets, however the guy wouldn't sell only it to me. I got an 8x10 free, however, I didn't really like any of them. But free is free, so I chose the one that I felt epitomized my Glamour Shot experience. I have a blue feather boa wrapped around my shoulders and I'm looking back over my shoulder and the look on my face says, "I can't believe I'm doing this. If I have to take another picture I'm gonna shove that camera so far up your asscrack, mister, that you'll be shitting Kodak for weeks!"

For a second there I was almost tempted to buy the proofs just so I could have that one picture that I liked. It's so pitiable that one moment of my personal beauty should mean that much to me that I would spend such a ridiculous sum of money to obtain a record of it. Either I'm very, very vain or I have very low self-confidence and was trying to cling to that fleeting moment of prettiness. I think it's the latter. How lame is that?

I think I was a tiny, wee bit annoyed when I posted last.

Anyway, the boys recovered nicely and everything worked out. Between swimming in a salty hotel pool, fitting five people in the hot tub in our room, getting scorched playing mini golf, and taking a refreshing dip in Salt Fork Lake we had a great time. Or at least I did.

I came back with a couple of goofy pictures and a stupid-ass sun burn on my shoulders and neck. Yup, I have a sun burn collar. There goes any chance of wearing a low cut shirt any time soon...at least until I get this tan line straightened out.

I've been thinking about my spiritual direction and my direction in life for the past few days. One of the new guys at work witnesses to me the other day...told me that God loves me, always has, and always will in spite of wrongs. I'm so tired inside and hearing his message made me cry...and made me wish that I could believe in it again. I even prayed on the way home. I can't remember the last time, before that, that I had prayed.

I'm just very tired of being mostly unhappy. I know that happiness can only be found in myself, but I'm not sure where to start. There's so much gunk and muck that I'll have to dig through...it seems an insurmountable task.

Clinic News

One of my patients who has tested positive ever since admission for benzos and cocaine in addition to his methadone, produced a clean drug screen for me last week. I was astounded! I only hope that he didn't fake it somehow. But he's been coming to counseling sessions lately...he normally comes with some excuse why he can't sit and talk. He's working, he got a much needed hair cut, and he actually appears sober when he comes to see me. And what brought about this great change? I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. I pointed out to him that although he had not used opiates since he was admitted, he was still abusing drugs, and still not in control of his life. I told him that since he wasn't taking the program seriously, I wasn't taking him seriously and decided that if he couldn't sober up within a month, I was asking for an administrative discharge. And it worked. I'm going to screen him tomorrow, I think and see if he's still clean. I've got my fingers crossed.

I checked in with my friends this morning to see what the plans are and where this lake is exactly that we're supposed to be going to and I learn that Shawn tried to make reservations but none were available. He told this to Chris and somehow Chris didn't bother telling any of the other interested parties that no reservations had been made and the plans are up in the air. Good job boys.

So here I am scrambling to find a reasonably priced room and calling everyone to make sure we still want to do this thing. It sucks to be the only responsible one. It sucks to have a group of apathetic friends. My life is truly lame.

I need to start over. If reincarnation really does happen then maybe suicide is the answer. I'll have to ponder that.

We ended up eating at Chi Chi's. So far no one has developed a burning ring of fire, though we all admitted to being quite "Salsafied!" by the end of the meal.

Pat called from Princeton while we were eating and said he expected to be in Charleston in an hour and a half. Miraculously he arrived after we were finished and waiting for Ben to finish his last beer. He followed some people who were driving 95 mph on the turnpike. As he said, they were probably stealing the old lady in the passenger seat and trying to make a clean get away. Why are people always stealing old ladies? You can buy a perfectly good old lady, all your very own, for $5.00 on the black market in Chicago. Why do you have to steal one when you can buy one? It's shameful.

Anyway we saw the fireworks...and they were lame. After the not so grand finale, we drove to Atlantis to find it very, very dead and also very lame. It was then that we decided that Charleston was lame altogether and decided to call it a night.

I'm guessing that Ben and Pat are playing computer games now. And I'm sitting here in my underwear in front of my computer. I think my life is lame.

Oh well, tomorrow we're going to head up to New Martinsville or New Martinsburg to hang out at a lake or something like that. Hopefully that will prove to be enjoyable. There should be alcohol involved because Chris will be there. (Chris doesn't go anywhere without a cardboard box full of alcohol in the trunk of his car.) And we all know that alcohol makes everything better. Alcohol and swimming. Sounds like a safe combination to me.

Here it is, the 4th of July. A day of familys, cookouts, fireworks, and Oscar Mayer weiners.

I spent the morning with Wayne, Cheryl, and Megan. Megan, who turned two years old on June 29th, recently got her first "big girl bed". She grabbed my hand and took me back to her bedroom to show it to me as soon as I walked through the door. And then, of course, I had to get in it and cover up with her. She patted the headboard and said, "Meg's big girl bed". A moment later she decided that we'd sat still long enough and said "Chris, up!" and pulled me back out to the living room.

My poor brother has a cold. His voice has taken on a very deep raspy quality...he sort of sounds like Johnny Cash. I told him this and he sang" I fell into a burnin' ring of fire...I went down, down, down...And the flames went higher...And it burns, burn, burns..."

Tonight Ben and Kelly and I are going to get some grub and then watch the fireworks. Kelly and I plan on going to Atlantis afterwards to shake our booties, but I'm not sure of Ben's intentions. At any rate it should be fun, fun, fun. Unless we get food poisoning or diarrhea. Then it might burn, burn, burn, like a burning ring of fire.

Bring on the Pain(killers)

Good news...my tonsils are no longer huge-nasty swollen. Bad news...my wisdom tooth in the lower back left of my mouth is trying to push through the skin of my tender pink gums. And it hurts like a bleeding ugly bitch.

I guess I really can't complain as I keep forgeting to make an appointment with a dentist. I suppose I'll have to have oral surgery done. And I'll probably get prescribed some opiates. Most likely Vicodin...maybe even Percocete or Lortab. So the question will be, do I take these pills knowing how addictive they are? Or do I just grab some Tylenol? If I take them as prescribed I should be fine, right? A typical Rx usually goes something like this: Take no more than 1 tablet 2 times daily as needed. Of course I now understand that taking 1 tablet 2 times daily as needed really means crushing and snorting as many pills as needed to make me fly like the Wicked Witch's fucking winged monkies.

You can find me at the club...

I went out this Saturday with my friend that I've known since elementary school, Zac Wright. We went to the Comedy Zone and to Atlantis. At the Comedy Zone, the Rock 105 DJ who was hosting caught my eye...Regular Steve, I think it was. He's quite a hottie...but he's probably an ass and that's the last thing I need right now.

I got to see Lumpy at the club and I let him know how sorry I was that he was fired. And I finally got to see the band that Lump has been raving about for months...The Convertible Blondes...they were an okay cover band. The lead singer is a chick who used to host Kid's Mag. Remember that show? Anyway, they sang a cover of Heart's "Baracuda" and it was fucking flawless! I mean flawless! Her voice is very strong and versatile, but on the whole the band is mediocre. And their original stuff sucked.

Anyway, it was nice to see someone from home and I had fun...though I wonder if Zac survived the shock of hanging with me. I'm not quite the same girl that I was when I left high school. I've...blossomed...or mutated. I'm not sure which is a more accurate term. :)