Recently, I was seduced by television. My cell contract was up, and my husband had been traveling. I felt lost. I was lonely…and there, on my TV in my livingroom was this woman talking to her cell phone. “Where is the closest restaurant?” “Why does it snow?” “Where do you hide dead bodies?” Ok, you caught me. The ad didn’t say the last thing, but Hell…I could still ask it that. I decided right then and there I needed this fabulous gadget. One that could remind me of things I’d been constantly forgetting. One that could schedule Dr. appointments on my calendar. One that could txt my husband for me while I was driving. Yes. I was in love.
As luck would have it, while everyone else was on a two week waiting list for this fancy piece of technology…I made one phone call and received her two hours later. Ahhh. “Honey, where’s her manual?” Oh, there isn’t one. That’s lame. Ok. I poke some buttons. I swipe my finger over this and that. AHA! I shall load my music library! I run upstairs. I begin the transformation from mere phone into that of personal jukebox. Wait…did she just crash? [sigh] I reboot. I reinstall the software per the instructions appearing on my screen. I reboot. I go to make a call…all my contacts are gone. Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? I swear. I start over. It crashes again. I swear some more.
What’s happening? I don’t get it. It’s supposed to be easy to use. And I’m not stupid…Ok, ok…I’m not *THAT* stupid. It crashes again. ‘GOODNESS ME THE CLOCK HAS STRUCK, A-LACK-A-DAY AND FUHK MY LUCK!!!” I swear more. I go downstairs in near tears. “What did I just do? This seemed like such a great idea. I’ve been so disorganized lately. I just was trying to restore order…and THAT BITCH hates me.” At this point my husband rolls his eyes at me. He points out that he’s pretty sure that the phone, while being voice activated didn’t receive a ‘spite chip’ instead of a smart one. Hilarious. Notice my laughter? >:|
I go back upstairs. More swearing. More crashing. More data loss. More sense of impending dread. Finally, BJ steps in with minimal damage to my pride. “Can I look at it? I’d like to play around…” “Uh sure, just remember – that bitch might hate you too.” Somehow, the brilliant man I married sweet talks that bitch into cooperating with me.
Me and that bitch are currently BFFs. She’s told me where I can find escort services when I am horny. She’s told me where good places are to hide dead bodies. She’s told me that our public library is a good place to get a beer when I am thirsty. She’s provided hiding places for misplaced socks – you know when I need one to shove in my kid’s whiney mouth. I’d almost venture to say that I loved her…that is, until she erased all my stored data when I tried to upload a new ringtone.
“Siri, what will happen if I smash you?” “Hmmm…I’m checking.” Time’s a ticking, Siri…Time’s a ticking…
Friday, November 11, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
I'm Electric, and He's My Ground
Recently, it has come to my attention that I’m a lunatic. Not just your standard garden variety, but the crazed, drooling hose-beast type. About a month ago, my home life changed drastically. I know what you might be thinking, and it’s not that, so don’t worry…but it’s close. Too close for my comfort.
My childhood was anything but conventional. Hell, it might be considered standard in this day and age, but 26 years ago, I was the only kid in my grade with divorced parents. I was raised by a single mother with more than her fair share of issues, but one thing she had down pat was - she loved me. I’m incredibly lucky merely because I know the true definition of unconditional love. That being said, the youthful remainder was downhill. I knew the rest of my life could only look up; but some things are so major they will define you early on as a person for the rest of your life.
I have trust issues. I don’t share. I think crying is a sign of weakness, complaining is inability to change your situation and I know you should never, ever compare your life to someone else’s because you can always find inadequacies if you look hard enough. I learned at the tender age of seven that I could count on me and ONLY me. If something needed done – I’d do it. I grasped that manipulation is an effective tool that can save your life and put food on the table. Baggage? Nope…I don’t have baggage – I have an entire damned U-Haul I cart around on a daily basis.
Then one day, I met a boy. He was special. Something about him fit me, although in the beginning, weirdly and with much difficulty. But, even the dumbest of people can understand when you find a brand new shiny penny on the ground, you pick it up and hold onto it. I stuffed him into my pocket.
Over the years, the boy taught me some things (many are an on-going work in progress). I’ve learned to trust. I’ve learned how to share. I’ve learned how to release and break down. He taught me that there was still innate goodness in some. And most of all, he taught me how to let go. I can have the most horrible of days, the terrible of thoughts, the foulest mouth…and one hug later, I’m clean. My “white board of life” is back to a blank squeaky clean – leaving me time to focus on our happy little life and our lovely family.
Back to the change in our life; he’s been traveling a LOT lately. I’m trying my hand at being a single mom, but with dual paychecks. Needless to say, every night spent in our giant bed alone makes me more insane and I've realized on a granular level – this isn’t what I signed up for. I feel like I’ve lost my penny…you know, that one I picked up all those years ago that was to bring me good luck.
And with the loss of that penny is the loss of my sanity. My white board now has scribbles over scribbles…and I can’t erase it. I find myself holding on, having already forgotten how to let go. My trust went out the window weeks ago. I’ve become suspicious and filled with angst. I find I have no calming voice to sooth the children. That’s no good. I turned my pockets inside out…still no penny.
In the greater scheme of things, I can’t grumble too much. I’ll find my penny stuffed in a cushion in a few more days, and normalcy will return…but until then, I can’t help but feeling like a bag lady, aimlessly walking the mall of life; asking anyone if they’ve seen my penny. If found, you should return to owner – she’s the crazy one over there muttering to herself…
My childhood was anything but conventional. Hell, it might be considered standard in this day and age, but 26 years ago, I was the only kid in my grade with divorced parents. I was raised by a single mother with more than her fair share of issues, but one thing she had down pat was - she loved me. I’m incredibly lucky merely because I know the true definition of unconditional love. That being said, the youthful remainder was downhill. I knew the rest of my life could only look up; but some things are so major they will define you early on as a person for the rest of your life.
I have trust issues. I don’t share. I think crying is a sign of weakness, complaining is inability to change your situation and I know you should never, ever compare your life to someone else’s because you can always find inadequacies if you look hard enough. I learned at the tender age of seven that I could count on me and ONLY me. If something needed done – I’d do it. I grasped that manipulation is an effective tool that can save your life and put food on the table. Baggage? Nope…I don’t have baggage – I have an entire damned U-Haul I cart around on a daily basis.
Then one day, I met a boy. He was special. Something about him fit me, although in the beginning, weirdly and with much difficulty. But, even the dumbest of people can understand when you find a brand new shiny penny on the ground, you pick it up and hold onto it. I stuffed him into my pocket.
Over the years, the boy taught me some things (many are an on-going work in progress). I’ve learned to trust. I’ve learned how to share. I’ve learned how to release and break down. He taught me that there was still innate goodness in some. And most of all, he taught me how to let go. I can have the most horrible of days, the terrible of thoughts, the foulest mouth…and one hug later, I’m clean. My “white board of life” is back to a blank squeaky clean – leaving me time to focus on our happy little life and our lovely family.
Back to the change in our life; he’s been traveling a LOT lately. I’m trying my hand at being a single mom, but with dual paychecks. Needless to say, every night spent in our giant bed alone makes me more insane and I've realized on a granular level – this isn’t what I signed up for. I feel like I’ve lost my penny…you know, that one I picked up all those years ago that was to bring me good luck.
And with the loss of that penny is the loss of my sanity. My white board now has scribbles over scribbles…and I can’t erase it. I find myself holding on, having already forgotten how to let go. My trust went out the window weeks ago. I’ve become suspicious and filled with angst. I find I have no calming voice to sooth the children. That’s no good. I turned my pockets inside out…still no penny.
In the greater scheme of things, I can’t grumble too much. I’ll find my penny stuffed in a cushion in a few more days, and normalcy will return…but until then, I can’t help but feeling like a bag lady, aimlessly walking the mall of life; asking anyone if they’ve seen my penny. If found, you should return to owner – she’s the crazy one over there muttering to herself…
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