Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Friday, September 30, 2005

Fat Sweaty Bitch

I have written previously (I think, who reads those archives anyway... YOU BETTER, READER!!!) about my battles with endometriosis. If I haven't written and am just being insane, well, that's nothing new. In case you don't know, endometriosis is:

Endometriosis occurs when endometrial tissue, the tissue that lines the uterus and is shed during menstruation, grows outside of the uterus—on the ovaries, fallopian tubes, ligaments supporting the uterus, and other areas in the pelvic cavity. Endometriosis can also appear in a woman's bladder, bowel, vagina, or other places in her body.
Like the lining of the uterus, these areas of endometrial tissue respond to the hormones of the menstrual cycle—they build up tissue each month, then break down and bleed during menstruation. But unlike the uterus lining, when these endometrial implants (also called growths or lesions) outside the uterus bleed, they can irritate a woman's body.

So, when I was about fifteen years old my mother took me to the "girly doctor" and after trying me on several different kinds of birth control (this before I even knew what sex was) I got a laporoscopy, an investigative surgery where the doctor searches for any spots of endometriosis growth and if they find some then they burn off the legions. I saw a picture of my uterus, the doctor pointed out the spots that he had lasered, and I thought that was it. Yeah, he told me that there was a good chance of reoccurance, but I was sixteen years old, I couldn't plan what I was wearing the next day, let alone think about disease.
At first the surgery worked great, and for years I was able to enjoy a normal period with normal pain. But as time went on, the symptoms began to come back, and in the last year or two they have become almost unbearable. I am already in danger of losing my job due to the absences caused on the days that I physically can't get out of bed. Since this happens every month, my employers haven't been too happy about it. I literally cannot even see straight as waves and waves of excruciating pain wash over me. And I'm not being a whiny girl, complaining about cramps. I would WELCOME regular cramps, I would hug and love regular cramps. This is Pain, with a capital P.
So anyway, the next course of action starts today. I am going to the doctor to have a shot administered to me. The shot is called LuproDepron, and I get a shot once a month for six months. This is supposed to stop new legions from growing and also, since I won't have a period for six months, give me a break. It is also supposed to "calm down" the spots of endo that I already have.
Drawback? Your body is tricked into thinking that it is going into menopause, and with that comes all the symptoms, including hot flashes, mood swings, and night sweats. Oh, also decreased sex drive, which just THRILLED A* to no end. As you know, I'm not the most stable person to begin with, so this kind of freaks me out. I am really worried that I am going to turn into a fat sweaty bitch. And A* will leave me, and I will live in a box, and I will be unhappy for the rest of my life. Dramatic anyone?
I am so worried about the attack of the fat sweaty bitch. Watch out, she may be coming to a town near you.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Finding Jules

Well, I did it. Those of you who have read my previous blogs will remember the entry "D Misses her Best Friend". If you didn't, then go back in my archives and read it already! Anyway, I have not been in contact with my best friend in about four to five months. I don't really know why. I wasn't agreeing with some of the choices that she was making, so maybe she sensed this and moved herself away, I don't know. Or maybe it was something as simple as time passed and we just didn't know how to make the first move. I honestly don't know. But today I took matters into my own hands and mailed her a card. Anyone who knows me knows that cards are a very important part of my life. I love nothing better than to find someone a card perfect for whatever occasion, and then I will write on the entire inside of the card and onto the back. Whenever A* opens a card, he scans the long writing and says "Oh God, do I have to read this whole thing?" (He does have to read the whole thing, if you were wondering) So I got this gorgeous card with a beautiful picture of a butterfly on the outside and was blank on the inside and wrote a short novel. I wrote about our friendship, how much it and she mean to me, how much I miss her, all of the things that I have been saving up to tell her because she is the only one who would understand. I am hoping so much that she will open this card, read it and be touched, and make the effort to get back in touch with me. The last time I talked to her she didn't have a phone, hence mailing the card. But I included our new phone number so that she can call me whenever she is ready. I hope against all hope that she will. I don't know what I will do if she just out and out rejects me, because that is what I feel no response would be. It would definitely crush me. She really has been there for every milestone, every important thing in my life starting from the age of fifteen. I can't imagine having a wedding without her being the maid of honor. I can't imagine the birth of my first child without her in the room with me. I can't imagine the rest of my life without her in it.
She means the world to me, and I miss her more than I could express here. She has been my guardian angel more times than I can mention, and on more than one occasion she has literally saved my life.
Keep hoping for me, and I will keep you posted. I want to find my best friend more than anything. I really miss her.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005


The newest news from D and A*~ we're moving. This is a big decision for us, coming from having an iffy income and seeing as our apartment right now is dirt cheap. But we both have steady jobs now, have been bringing in consistent money, and we decided that it was time. We miss carpet (we have all hardwood floors, which actually I like, but not everywhere) and we miss dishwashers and we miss things not falling apart on us. In the entire two and a half years that I have lived there, I have not seen the landlord once. Not even once!! And we have called numerous times to ask him to come out and fix the furnace, which only blows heat into 2 rooms, and the leak on the back porch and the tile in the kitchen that doesn't reach all the way to the ends of the room. We never get a response, and nothing ever gets done.
So we are looking for a house to rent. We have decided our price range and are actively looking. Yesterday we drove around for a couple hours searching for good deals... we didn't find any. We also saw a house that was nice, but not for the price that they were asking. I'm nervous and excited about this new venture. We know that we will be spending more on rent than we ever have before, and that is what worries me the most. I have stomach pains just thinking of it.
But to think, a home of our own! (kind of... it will be rented) No one will ever walk across the ceiling in the middle of the night, drop an entire bathtub or kitchen sink or small car on the ground, making it seem like the whole house will crash down around us. No one will be watching us as we leave the apartment, ready to pounce and ask if we can give them a ride to the store. No one will come downstairs at 9:30 at night when A* is watching a basketball game and yell at him to turn it down. No one will be wandering around the street in the middle of the night, searching for crack or money, whichever comes first. We will not awaken to find broken beer bottles smashed in the front yard. We will not have to be careful pulling into the driveway because someone may have dropped something sharp that could puncture the tires. We will not have to live in the ghetto, anymore. We will have privacy, and freedom, and that I can't wait for.
So keep your fingers crossed for us, that we will stumble upon our dream rental and be able to move sooner rather than later.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

I Hate Everyone

Today is one of those days when I just hate everyone. I think everyone sucks and they are all getting on my nerves. I am sitting at my desk listening to the inane conversations of stupid people. Do you ever have those days? I feel like everyone has some kind of vendetta against me... perhaps that is why no one is talking to me, because I am glowering at people over my computer monitor.
Tonight I am having a girl's night at one of my best friend's houses. We are going to wear our pajamas, stuff our faces with pizza, and gossip to our hearts content. Maybe that will blast me out of my funk. A* has been driving me crazy lately, just doing little irritating things over and over. An example~ Every single freaking day we stop at the gas station for gas and put $5 in the tank. Now, we all know gas prices have been through the roof lately, and really, how long is $5 going to last when you only have one car, two people have to go to work, and we are not people who just sit in the house anyway. So I brought up the stupidity of this, telling A* that it would make much more sense if we put more in the tank at the beginning of the week, therefore not requiring us to stop every single day. I just don't like the gas station that much. A* got defensive, said that he liked putting in $5, and the conversation was closed. This morning, when we went to the gas station he put in *gasp* ten whole dollars!! I was so proud of him. I made a point to tell him this, and he says to me, "Well, I still think that its better to just put in the five dollars. I think that we have a slow gas leak, and so if I put in more than that it just leaks back out." Now, that makes total sense to me! Why wouldn't this be information that was shared the very first time that the issue was raised? Then I would have understood the logic behind it and never would have started bitching in the first place. Why, oh why? That is why I need a Girl's Night.

I continue to be retarded and computer illiterate, and cannot figure out how to link to other people's blogs. I know, I know, some of you have tried to help me with this, but again, I am just too dumb. But I read some really great ones and had it not been for these wonderful, funny, and insighful people I wouldn't have even started this blog. So I want to give you the sites for their blogs. Here they are, in random order.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

The End of the Fleas and the Start of Emotional Breakdowns

Just in case anyone was concerned, I wanted to give a little update on the flea problem at our house. We gave the babies a flea bath last night (picture two cats, both looking like little drowned rats, trying to claw their way out of the bathtub yowling like we were yanking their tails off) and to our delight we saw millions of tiny anarchists floating in the tub when we were done. However, A* went out on the back porch to get something, came back in, and had another colony of the little fuckers on his sock. Using our superb deductive reasoning skills, we decided that the outbreak of fleas was coming from the back porch, and A* sealed up the door with masking tape, vowing not to even open the door until frost has killed everything. We felt like the worst parents in the world, because every night we had been putting the cats onto the porch to try and protect them, thinking that the fleas lived inside, when really we were just sending them out to the lions den night after night. Ah well, at least we have a clean house now.
In the meantime, I have been without my medication for over a week now, and the effects are starting to be noticeable. I take Zoloft, and since I have not had it my emotional breakdowns have gotten progressively worse. Poor A*. Yesterday I yelled at him for wanting to have hot dogs for dinner, this outburst closely on the heels of the previous one for only putting $5 in the gas tank. Most of the breakdowns start with extreme yelling and frustration, followed by a quick downslide into crying. The side of my brain that is not insane knows that I am being unreasonable, and tries to talk me out of it, but the larger part of my brain that is crying out for some Zoloft ignores it and keeps on screaming. Meanwhile, any tiny little thing that goes wrong... or not even wrong, just not the way I expected it to go... makes me fly off the handle. I called my doctor and he has some samples waiting for me to pick up as soon as I leave work. I am like a recovering addict, all I can think of is those little yellow happy pills. For A*'s sake, I am going to pick them up in about an hour. I called him at work to relay the news, and he was ecstatic.
However, the next time he pisses me off, what am I going to blame it on? I'm sure that I'll find something.

Monday, September 19, 2005

I have Fleas!!!

Or, to be more accurate, the two cats have fleas. Now, this makes me feel just a tad icky and gross. I know in my realistic mind that it has nothing to do with my ability as a housecleaner, or that I am an unfit pet mother because I let this infestation take place. But my heart, which more often than not takes a lot of presidence over my realistic mind, tells me that this problem is all my fault, that had I cleaned just a little bit better in the corners that my babies might not be suffering. It is bad, folks. Yesterday A* and I cleaned the house, scrubbed from top to bottom. Then while we are at work today there are three bug bombs going off in the house, and then we are going to give both cats a flea bath. Hopefully... * she crosses her fingers * this will take care of the problem. The other day I was scratching Belle, the little princess, under her chin and a million fleas crawled all over her face. Of course, I had an emotional breakdown and cried for A* to do something. He rushed out to the store to buy some flea spray, but giving that this morning he sat down on the toilet and had six fleas crawling on his sock, I don't think that the spray did its job.
I feel dirty. I feel like I am trashy. I feel like this is a direct reflection on me, that my house has always been disgusting and the only things that even want to inhabit it are fleas. Am I being unreasonable? Yes, probably. But you try sitting on your couch while things hop into your lap... and I'm not talking about a cat. The poor babies are just itching like crazy. Buster leaps into the air at intervals, trying to get away from the little buggers. It is so sad and pitiful.
Please, don't think that I am dirty. Don't think that I live in a nasty trailer park with cockroaches. These are the only bugs that I have even seen at my house, I swear. Oh, minus the giant beetle/cricket that you can read about in my archives. But that was just random, I swear. You can come over and feel free to sit down... nothing is going to come crawling on to you except perhaps a cat.
Well... you can come over after tonight. After the bomb. After the terrorist attack on fleas. I am pulling out all the stops on this one. Take no prisoners.
I'll let you know how it turns out.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Random Thoughts on my Fake Wedding

A* and I have a wedding to attend this weekend. I am looking forward to it for the following reasons...
1. Free drinks (open bar baby!)
2. Free food
3. I get to dress up
4. A* has to dress up too.
And I must admit, we do clean up pretty nice.

All of this wedding talk has led me to think of mine. Well, my ficticious wedding, since I have never been married and it doesn't look like I will be in the near future. A* is dragging his feet. Actually, that isn't fair, because I know that he just can't afford an engagement ring. But just for fun, let me tell you about my fairy tale wedding.

First of all, the dress. The most important item of any wedding. My dress will be a Cindarella dress, the most poufy, sparkly, obnoxious dress ever made. I will literally knock people over with all the crinoline under my skirt. I could hide small children under there. I will wear a tiara, with a veil attached to it. I will instruct my father's (I have a stepdad and a dad, and both of them will walk me down the aisle) that they have to be neat about lifting up the veil. I don't want it to look all weird and bunched up in the back.

The reception will, of course, have many many alchoholic beverages, available to all free of charge. I will have a DJ that is ready to party all night long. Screw these weddings where the thing ends at 11. For God's sakes, at 11 people are just feeling their buzz. This is when the fun really starts. This is when you get to laugh at all your friends as they make fools of themselves dancing like idiots. How can you give that up? No, our party will last far into the night.

These are the most important details to me. The dress, the alchohol, and the dancing/partying. Everything else is just icing on the (huge, chocolate with butter cream, flower adorned) cake. Flowers? Ah, something simple and beautiful. Decorations? Something classy and simple. I'm not a high society girl, my family is more comfortable around the kitchen table than a gormet restaraunt. I can just imagine them, all in their finery, drunk and loud and wonderful.

My wedding will rock. Now I just need to find someone to marry me. A*, get on the ball!!

Friday, September 09, 2005

H E L P !!!!!

Could someone please help a poor, inexperienced blogger out? I need to know 2 things...

1) How do I put other people's blogs on mine, so that people can click on it from my site? I would like to give some people credit.

2) How do I comment on someone else's blog?

Thank you so much!!

The Story of A* and I, Part II

Please see yesterday's entry to familiarize yourself with the first part of the story. I am going to continue where I left off...
So, after A* tried unsecessfully to molest me on the recliner, we decided that it was time to leave B- and my friend alone. They were not basking in the light of a new attraction, and were trying to keep their eyes open while the two of us wrestled together. I told A* that I wanted some ice cream. At this point, he didn't realize my total addiction to the stuff, and just thought that it was a good idea. We picked a Steak and Shake restaraunt that was close by our friend's apartment, because it was open 24 hours and it was already about 1 am, and because they have killer milkshakes. We got into my car and started off. As we are driving down the road, I am just talking to A*, oblivious to everything else, when he suddenly interrupts me and says, "Uh, D, my door isn't closed." Well, I didn't think that he was an idiot before, but maybe I was mistaken. "So close it!" I said. He showed me how he could slam the car door as hard as he could, and it would still not close. So now we are driving down the street, in the middle of the night, and A* is hanging on for dear life so that he won't fall out onto the road. He had to roll down the window, stick his arm out, and hold the door shut manually with his hand so that he didn't become road kill. I was highly embaressed.
A* told me that I should just stop at a gas station and he could probably fix the problem. So I did, and he couldn't. We ended up having to go to a 24 hour grocery store and buy a roll of duct tape. A* put the tape all around the door frame, and then had to get in the driver's side, climb over all of the stuff I had piled in the middle of the seat, and get into his.
By this time I didn't even want to sit somewhere and eat ice cream, so we went through the drive-thru and I took A* back to his car. I was sure that he would never want to speak to me again, since I had just almost killed him. I was preparing myself for the brush off, when A* asked me if he could have my number. I gave it to him, and then he reached over the seat and gave me a kiss. It was nice. Very nice.
Then I had to get out of the car, so that he could climb over the seat again and get out.
He called me 2 days later, and we set up our first date. I remember the first message that he left for me, the first time that he called.
~~~~~~~~"What's up, D, this is A*. Um, I didn't call yesterday because I didn't want to seem
~~~~~~~~ like a loser. Call me back whenever you get a chance. My number is xxx-xxxx. I
~~~~~~~~ hope to hear from you soon. Again, my number is xxx-xxxx. Okay, bye.

Coming soon- our first date, another disaster, at least according to him. How did we ever make it this far?

Thursday, September 08, 2005

The Story of A* and I

I know that I spend a lot of time here talking about A*, so I thought that it might be helpful if I wrote a little bit about our meeting.
I was always the type of girl that had to have a boyfriend. I went through my whole high school career never single. I don't know why (I would probably need a therapist for that, and that is opening up a whole can of worms that I would rather let stay there), but I felt incomplete if I didn't have a guy. By the time I was in college, I realized that I had a problem. Slowly but surely, I tried to fix it. I didn't want to be "that girl" who depends on a man for her whole life. My mom and my grandmother are both extremely strong women role models in my life, and they have never waited for anyone to do anything for them... they do it themselves. I tried to model myself after them, with marginal success.
So it came to be that I was 21 and my boyfriend (soon to be fiance, he had the ring, but that is another post) decided that he was a big prick and slept with someone else. Well, it was as good a time as any for me to practice my independant woman skills. That is, after I spent a couple of months drinking myself into a stupor, crying about said prick.
I made it a year. And I actually had a lot of fun and was very proud of myself. I hung out with friends, I made my own decisions, I didn't have to answer to anyone. I had a good time. But then I realized that I wanted the companionship. I was ready to try the whole relationship thing again.
I asked my friend if her fiance had any cute friends that I could meet. She thought for a minute, and then her eyes lit up. "A*!" she told me. "He is the only one of B-'s friends that I can even stand. He is really nice and funny, and I think that you would really like him."
So we made plans. My friend and I were to meet up with her fiance and A* at a little bar. We were already there when A* and B- came in. My first thought, honestly, upon laying eyes on A* was "Wow, he is really short. I hope that I'm not taller than him."
A* sat next to me in the booth and I was at once impressed with his easygoing manner and the way that he made me feel comfortable right away. He asked me questions that let him get to know me, but were not the standard, boring questions that you would expect. He also had a great smile. And when we stood up to leave, I was relieved to notice that I was exactly the same height as him.
We went back to B- and my friend's apartment. Here is where I ran into my first problem of the night... B- and my friend sat on the couch. There were two recliners in the room, and A* plopped down on one. Now, should I sit in the other recliner, therefore seeming rude and that I wasn't interested? Should I sit in the recliner with him, therefore seeming eager and pushy? Should I sit on the floor, only seeming nerdy? Should I sit on the couch with B- and my friend, therefore making them move down and causing a big production? Why are there no instructions on this?
A* solved my dilemma by smiling that great smile of his at me and patting the spot next to him on the recliner. I frowned a little, like it was something that I wasn't 100% comfortable with it, and gingerly sat on the edge of the chair. Right away, I noticed that he smelled good. I am a sucker for smells. As the night wore on, A*'s hand crept around my back. I let it stay there. The hand wandered down to my knee, and started rubbing. I let it stay there. The hand began to travel up, and I picked it up and put it back in his lap. He never even glanced away from the TV. The sneaky hand again tried to come around the front. I picked it up again and put it in his lap. I snuck a peek at him, and saw him trying to restrain a grin. I was a little insulted. Did he think he was going to get a piece the very first night that I met him?
By the way... when asked about this incident today, A* will admit that he tried to feel me up in the recliner, and further questioning reveals that had I been willing, he would have slept with me that night too. But, he is quick to point out, he would not have called me again. He says, "Any guy will see if he can get some ass when he first meets a girl, but if she is respectable enough to say no, she can be his girlfriend." Guys are so dumb sometimes.
I will continue the saga tomorrow. I know that you will be on the edge of your seat!

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

When I was Young

When I was young, I thought that in the fall, when the leaves changed colors, that angels had come down from heaven and colored all the trees with their crayons. I had a very clear picture in my head of cherubic angels clutching a box of Crayola's, coloring in the leaves.

When I was young, I thought that fairies and people of that nature really existed. I put out little cups filled with water for them, and put scraps of my dinner on the sidewalk in front of my house for them to drink and eat after everyone else went to bed.

When I was young, I thought that if I opened the door to my room slowly and quietly enough, I would catch all of my dolls and stuffed animals engaged in whatever activities that toys do. I thought that they would be up, talking, playing with each other. I never opened the door fast enough though.

More to come later, but before I leave.... What happened to our innocence??