well, hell.

WORST. BLOGGER. EVER.

Okay, so now that's out of the way. Ya'll, a LOT of shit has gone down since the last time I wrote, so I'll just try to condense it.

Basically? I'm going through a divorce. Those who know me well know that my marriage was far from perfect. Especially in the last couple years. I tried my best to make things work. Or did I? Honestly, half the time, I felt like it didn't matter how hard I tried...nothing was going to save that sinking ship. And I stayed much longer than I should. But everyone has their breaking point. Mine just took a long time to reach.

So, I left. And I'm telling you, it was the hardest, scariest decision I've ever made. Being a child of divorce made me very, very hesitant to put my own child through it. But, you know, I decided that even though it was going to be a difficult, painful, and decidedly rough road...Reece deserved more. Damnit, I deserved more. And frankly, Tony deserved more. He wasn't happy. Neither was I.

I won't get into the sordid details, but it's been about 6 weeks since I left and moved in with my dad and stepmom. The first week? Hellish. I ended up in the hospital the first night I was back because I was having such a severe anxiety attack. My blood pressure was 201/140. They thought I might have a stroke. I felt cold. Empty. It was like mourning a death, and I guess in a way? It was. The death of a relationship, and the end of a 5 1/2 year relationship. Good or bad, it was a large chunk of my life that I can never get back.

I was weak. But every day, I felt a little bit better. Tony had Reece for the first week we were separated, and it was the first time EVER that I had been away from my son for more than 2 days. I felt like my heart was being ripped out. But really, I think having that first week to myself helped. I was able to grieve, to cry, to really start getting over things. My family rallied around me. My friends, God bless them, were so happy to have me back home. They told me they were proud of me, for making the right decision for myself and for Reece. And after a little while, I started feeling proud of myself, too.

I have come a LONG way in 6 weeks. I still have rough patches. And things with Tony aren't always easy and peaceful. I think he's having a really hard time with the reality of the situation right now, while I had the really hard time at the beginning. But I know in the long run, we'll both be much happier people. I do know I will be.

In the last week, I met someone. I know it's soon. But it feels right, and I'm not fighting it. He's not a rebound. He's not just someone to make me feel less lonely. He's helping me heal, but that's not why I adore him. I'm sure there will be many posts about him to come. And more posts about everything else that's going on. But this post is about the loss of an old life, and the start of a new one.

And damn, I'm hopeful. I haven't felt that way in a very, very long time.

click click click.

One of my vices is biting my nails. Like, since I was 6, I have always bitten my nails. It's a terrible habit but I do it without even thinking. I have never gotten a manicure or anything like that because I'm so ashamed of my nails. Or at least I was.

I guess the one good thing that came out of having this bitchy toothache problem is I couldn't bite my nails because it hurt my jaw. It's been about 3 weeks and I haven't bitten my nails once, and I haven't even thought about it. I just realized my nails are longer than they have EVER been and when I drum my fingers on a hard surface, it makes that clickity noise! Is that weird to be excited about? Anyways they look so pretty, and I'm going to treat myself to a manicure. I'm stoked.

the dentist, and other stories.

I know, I know, I'm a bad blogger.

I blame my hiatus on this bitch of a tooth of mine that is currently outstaying it's welcome in the back of my upper jaw. See, I had a filling fall out. I procrastinated (my specialty) because I am fucking terrified of dentists. I have a LOW tolerance for pain and a HIGH tolerance for pain medicine, which is a crappy roll of the dice.

Sidenote: Did you know that redhaired people generally have a higher tolerance for pain medicine and/or anesthesia? It's true. I researched it after my hellish experience with my c-section. The epidural didn't take, the pain meds didn't work, and when they did the emergency c-section, the anesthesia DIDN'T WORK so I felt every. single. thing. Let that simmer in your brain for awhile.

Anyways. So yeah, when I go to the dentist, it doesn't matter what they give me, I feel what they're doing and it SUCKS. Badly. So yes, I should have gone right when the filling fell out, but I'm like a victim of PTSD. Or something. So, the tooth got infected. Which landed me in the ER because one side of my face was swollen up like Elephant Man, and I was running fever, etc. Turns out it developed into cellulitis of the face. So I have to let this crap ass antibiotic run it's course before I can actually have this tooth removed because as long as there is an infection, the dentist won't pull it. I'm in a lot of pain.

Turns out I'm a dumbass!

my not so guilty pleasure.

Do you watch Jeopardy?

Like, really watch it? Not just watch Final Jeopardy while you're waiting for the 5 o'clock news, but like obsessively record it every day and anxiously look forward to being able to watch it with your husband when your kiddo finally decided to go to sleep?

*raises hand* I do. It's become a daily tradition, watching it together and seeing who gets the most answers right (he typically wins, though I do sometimes give him a run for his money). We also get a kick out of how passive aggressive Alex Trebek is to the contestants who are losing, or who answer an obviously easy question with a really stupid answer. We laugh at the background stories of the contestants who are annoying, and read through the lines of their impressively worded job titles.

Literary sales liason = You work at Barnes and Noble, don't be trying to hide behind that, crazy cat lady with the awful peach colored sweater on.

We've been watching it daily for probably 3 years now, and my trivia knowledge has definitely improved, and I really do like the fact I learn something (or many somethings) new every day. Yes, I'm a nerd. But I'm okay with it.

monday list

Things That Annoy Me Lately

1. The fact that I live 4 1/2 hours from my friends and family. It has really, really, really started to bother me.

2. The fact that I am definitely addicted to chocolates, a big shift in what junk food I used to be addicted to: chips and crackers. It's making me rethink my self identity.

3. This blog. I spent like, about 4 hours too many gawking with my mouth open at this crazy lady's rants on everything from IVF to 'teh gays' to birth control to church nurseries. If it's out there, she probably hates it. And is proud to tell you so. Click at your own risk, it's addictively soul crushing.

4. The fact that I have no chocolate. (see number 2)

a week of nothing.

This week has been rather uneventful. I haven't really been feeling all too well- I have a migraine disorder, and so I get them quite often, but lately it's been pretty much every single morning, I wake up with a killer headache. Sometimes it goes away by dinnertime, sometimes not at all. And it drains me. It's hard to fuction when they get this bad. My doctor wants me to see a neurologist, but to be perfectly honest, I'm scared to death that they'll find something that's... well, not good. I've had headaches my entire life, but only in the past 2 years have they really amped up and turned into migraines, and then to where I'm getting them almost daily. It really puts a damper on everything.

fashion?

Secret: I'm a big fan of awards shows. Not only am I obsessed with movies, but any excuse to judge celebrities, I'm on board. Plus, I like the pre-show show. The dresses, child, to be more exact. It's really unlike me to enjoy such prissyness, considering I don't own a pair of flats, much less a pair of heels, much less a BALL GOWN, but hey. Whatever.

So, I was really looking forward to the Golden Globes this past Sunday. Without further ado, here are my (much anticipated, I'm sure) picks for best, and worst dressed.

BEST:

Olivia Wilde, in Marchesa. Girlfriend KILLED it. And she wasn't even nominated! But hey, if I had access to that sparkly number, I'd be all up on it. I told you I was a sucker for glitter. THAT is how you dress for an awards show. I'd wear that dress to my wedding, brown or not.

Worst:

Angelina Jolie, in Versace. I know, I know. This was mostly loved by critics, and I get it. It's fucking Angelina Jolie. She's got the face, the figure, the sainthood going on. But sorry, this dress did not do it for me. And her hair looks like she barely combed it. Being the most beautiful woman alive does not give you license to dress like this. But she does, and people love it, so she's gonna do it. She's like, fuck you, I'm Angelina. We get it. I just don't get it. If that makes sense.

i can't live.

Tuesday prediction: I will finally snap after a month and a half of being sans iPhone, and throw my piece of shit replacement phone out the window. Should I hold a fundraiser? Yes, I recognize I am being ridiculous. That doesn't change things.

list up mondays.

This is an easy blog trend I'm gonna try to start doing. It's just basically making a list. On Mondays. Easy enough. So here are some highlights from my day.

1. My son decided 6 was a perfect time to wake up, so I rolled out of bed and did the morning routine without really blinking. Change diaper, change him out of pjs (ok, I do this SOMEtimes, there are some day he is in pjs for half the day. Like mother, like son.), fix him juice, a snack cup of vanilla wafers or graham crackers to hold him over till breakfast time, and turn on Blue's Clue's (or, BOO'S COOS, as he tends to scream at me until I find the remote). He will grab his favorite stuffed animal, a chenille monkey that smells so good, seriously, it has a scent pack inside of it. He will climb up onto the loveseat next to me and get all settled, and for 30 minutes, he is content and I get to check my email, check the news, check facebook, check off rolling my eyes at most people on facebook, then it's time for breakfast. Now you know how my mornings roll.

2. I have had a goal since Friday to find a good king cake. I have gotten like, 2 thousand suggestions from locals, but they all cost like 50 fucking dollars. For a king cake. That I will eat in one day, let's be honest, cause I'm a sugar-a-holic. So, I've yet to find one, though there is one at Sucre that is 20 bucks, and is supposedly delish, and they use metallic glittery sugar. Secret: I'm a sucker for anything with glitter. When I find the time to get a pedicure, I still grab for the clear glitter overcoat, while the lady painting my toes shakes her head. Oh well.

3. I got pulled into a fight between my 2 sisters today. I'm the oldest- my sister Jo is 2 years younger, and then our half sister is 10 years younger than me. She was raised completely different than me and Jo. We were poor, and she has never had to know what it's like to be poor. Her dad, my ex stepdad, is from a family with money, so she was spoiled since birth. Long story, but she has really drifted apart from my mom in the past couple years, changing custody to where she only sees my mom every other weekend, and lately, not at all. My sister Jo ain't having it, she's uber protective of my mom, and basically her and my little sister have started WWIII, somehow pulling me into it. I'm fiercely loyal to Jo- we grew up together, she's my best friend. But I do have another sister, and although we haven't grown up together, she's still my sister. I understand her tension with my mom, cause I go through it too. So I feel like I'm being put in the middle. Seriously, my mom called earlier and made me call Jo on a three way call (making me feel like I was in 7th grade) so they could both tell me who said what and when. My head hurts.

4. I watched The Bachelor, and am not ashamed. NOT ASHAMED, I SAY.

Night.

i am not a mommy blogger.

As a rule, I generally dislike mommy blogs. If you're not hip to the trend in the blogosphere these days, mommy blogs are all the fucking rage. There are those that are seriously making bank from writing about their kids drool and cloth diapering and feeding their kids basically animal feed.

Being mother Earth is also a trend, just so you know.

And I should really back up and say, most of these  BIG TIME BLOGGERS started off writing about the drool and the diapers and the general chaos that goes along with having a child (or five), but the minute they post those blog ads up from the BIG TIME MOMMY BLOGGER AD COMPANY (yes, there is one), things shift into no longer a cute home-made cutesy blog about the trials and errors of being a mother, but into just being a money maker.

Big corporations take notice of these big time bloggers, send them free shit like fridges and computers just so they'll post a half-ass review, on the off chance their rabid followers might stop what they're doing, throw everything into that Toyota Sienna mini-van (it was mentioned on another mommy blog last week, didn't you hear?!), and get their happy ass to Target to GET THAT SHIT. I mean, if BIG TIME MOMMY BLOGGER said it turns on and doesn't blow up, then it must be awesome.

It's annoying. They are mostly paid per-click page views, so they do teaser posts, or tease posts via twitter or facebook, and the non-blinking masses happily click click click that mouse, because goddamnit, they have to know if Mommy Blogger Jr. passed that earring he accidentally swallowed 2 days ago.

I'm not joking. Poke around, you'll find who and what I'm talking about. It's not hard to find. I'm not a hater, I'm just over it. I'm a blogger (a half-assed one, but still). I'm a mom. But just to put it to rest, this ain't no mommy blog. I curse too much, for starters. I also don't mix Jesus into everything I write, which is also the BIG hook with these mommy blogs, for the most part. If you and Jesus are BFF, then write whatever the hell you want, these people will eat that shit for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner.

So, hopefully you'll stick around. I will probably write about my son at some point, but I'm not doing it for a fucking refridgerator.

what dreams may come. or not.

Anyone who knows me well, knows I'm a sucker for an end-of-the-world movie, or show, or anything really. If it's apocolyptic in nature, I will love the shit out of it. It has probably has to do with being raised up in an apostolic Pentecostal church, where the only thing I remember is beind told we were in the END TIMES and the rapture could, and would, happen any second now, so for baby Jesus's sake, BE READY AND REPENT! For real. That's all I remember.

Sigh.

Anyways, so last night, I had one of my frequent disaster dreams. This one was kinda dumb, but kinda realistic. I was in downtown Pineville at my friend Jodi's house, and I had a clear view of downtown Alexandria (for you non natives, it's only separated by the Red River. For all intents and purposes, they are the same area, although Alexandria is often referred to as "town" by the country folk in backwoods Rapides Parish.)

Okay, I'm rambling. Where was I? Okay, so I was outside, and saw a big ass boat float by on the river. And then this large building a la World Trade Towers (disclaimer: Alexandria's tallest building has, I believe 13 stories. No joke), was hit by said boat. All I could see was the top half of the building, and it kinda crumpled and parts fell, and there was the sound of metal and glass hitting pavement. The weird part (of an already weird dream) is that no one reacted, except me. Sure, the police finally showed up and ambulances and shit, but the townsfolk as a whole were totally unimpressed. It was crazy.

When I woke up, I thought about it for awhile, then asked myself a simple question: How in the hell did a BOAT crash into a building well inland with enough force to knock over a World Trade Center sized tower?

My dreams are stupid.

the new year.

I am really not the kind of person that does New Year resolutions. Really. I think it's just setting one up to fail, and if it's important enough to be called a resolution, perhaps you should have thought about doing it back in October or July or whenever you decided you'd make it a New Year's resolution.

That being said, I want to be a better mom, a better wife, a better person, and a better cook.

Who doesn't? But as far as cooking, I've been checking out The Tasty Kitchen, run by the fabulous Pioneer Woman. It's a community where you can post recipes, read them, etc etc etc. I've been getting involved in a few forums lately. The interwebs can be fun. Anyways, so yeah. Cooking.

These look good and easy and GOOD so I might try them tonight. Anyone else try cooking Chinese style food at home? I realize these are appetizers but I honestly could eat an entire meal of just these (and gain a thousand pounds in the process, I know). So, why not start with something I already love?

Crab Rangoons. The only problem I see is finding the wonton wrappers, I assume they'll be in the ethnic food aisle at the ol' Walmart, but we'll see. I also want to get some soy sauce (low sodium), wasabi, and minced roasted garlic to mix for a dipping sauce. Wish me luck!

oh, dear.

Toothaches are from the Devil.

That is all for now.

so, you're a jerk. (pt.2)

I hate flaky people. BIG TIME. Like, beyond repair.

I had this best friend back in the day, Greg. I loved Greg. Some might have said I was in love with him (like me, looking back), but he had this gigantic flaw. Other than being amazingly cool, and funny, and adorable, and fun to hang out with, and my total partner in crime- he was a flake. We'd hang out every day for 2 weeks, then I wouldn't be able to get in touch with him for 5 days. Then it started getting like, I couldn't find him for weeks. This, understandably, is frustrating, but I liked Greg- so much- and loved the time we did hang out, so I just chalked it up to Greg being Greg.

When I moved to Baton Rouge, at first he would often come visit, staying for the weekend, crashing on our couch and whatnot. Then we stopped seeing him less. Then the phone calls went unanswered. Then he reappeared around the time I got pregnant, I asked him to be the godfather (he was, after all, my oldest and best male friend), and he happily agreed. Then I didn't hear from him for over a year and a half.

What the fucking fuck? I mean, really. That's not just Greg being Greg, that's Greg being a jackass. I've only talked to him maybe 3 times in the past 2 1/2 years.

Oh, by the way, the one time I opened up to Greg and told him I might actually be in love with him, beyond the friend boundaries, he picked that time to tell me he was in love with my sister. You know, the skinny, prettier one.

So, moving on. When I moved to New Orleans in July, I met this guy, Jesse. He was from South Dakota, and we just hit it off. We became super fast friends, confided in each other, hung out almost daily. He had no car so I would offer to give him rides home from work, things like that. We texted ALL DAY unless we were actually hanging out. We were just BFF forever and ever, ya'll. So I thought.

In Septemberish, he mentioned briefly he was thinking about moving back to SD. He said he was homesick, couldn't find a job here with his degree, etc. All good reasons to move back, I would say, but then everytime I mentioned it, he brushed it off, and said nothing was concrete. Then like 3 weeks later, he had a post on fucking facebook, announcing how much he hated New Orleans and everyone in it, and how he was moving back to South Dakota. That weekend.

I called and was like, "Um, what?" We were supposedly best friends (this coming from his own lips two days prior at a Daniel Tosh show we went to together). He said he was afraid to tell me, and that I would be mad. Again, what the fucking fuck?! So, to make a long story a little less long, the next day we hung out and he said I was one of the best friends he had ever had, that he would be "devastated" if we lost touch, that we should still call and text each other daily. I was cautious but agreed.

He moved around 2 months ago, and I've heard from him....twice. And only after I sent him a text basically calling him an asshole for being a flaky ass liar. Yesterday was one of those days, I had spent weeks trying to get in touch with him, send him an email wishing him Happy Holidays and if he so desired, to please tell me to fuck off so I could stop wasting my time. He ignored me, every text and every email. So, being in an already emotional and tired-of-the-bullshit state, I sent a not so very nice text. Guess who calls 2 seconds later? The man (boy) of the hour.

We yelled at each other for a good 45 minutes, then he said he was done. I laughed and said, "Finally! A decision." I was relieved, honestly. Then 10 minutes later, I get an email telling me he doesn't want to lose me as a friend, but please, give him some time and let him come to me on his terms.

Last I checked, I'm not married to your trifling ass, so fuck you. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. (Might as well get it all out.)

I have zero friends down here. Seriously. So I met another guy (sorry, ladies, unless I already know you, I will probably hate you). We went out for drinks/coffee a few times and hit it off big time, and laughed and had alot in common and YAY AMBER FOUND A NEW BFF!

Wrong. Another fucking flake who dropped off the face of the Earth.

What the hell am I doing wrong? Seriously. I'm asking.

In the meantime, I'll be back home in central Louisiana from the 3rd to the 8th, and I am looking forward to being around my friends SO FUCKING MUCH. There's already a Michael Jackson dance party/drinking party being thrown for me. Like, hello?! Obviously I'm awesome. I need to just stop trying to make new friends and cling to the ones I already have. I need to move home.

so, you're a jerk.

I'll probably regret this later, but fuck it.

I was a skinny kid until around 4th grade. Around the time my parents divorced. Then..the pounds started packing on. I, like most "fat kids", was made fun of but hey! It made me develop a killer sense of humor, an arsenal of sarcasm and funny comebacks, and thick skin. Well, almost thick skin.

It never really bothered me. Much. It pissed me off more that I have to order cute clothes instead of just breezing through the local Target, but other than that? If a guy didn't like me for my size? Fuck him. And the skinny horse he rode in on.

But lately? It's really, really been bothering me. I was comfortable with myself. Then I had a baby. I gained 30 lbs, after losing 10 in the first trimester. Then, after Reece was born, I lost all 30 lbs in a week and a half. Then 3 months later, it was back. And it's still here. I lose a few pounds, then gain some, and so on and so forth.

Guess what? Surprise! Guys are jerks. And yeah, I'm married. But who doesn't want to feel attractive? And wanted? I do. And I don't.

And the more guys I meet, the more I want to punch them all in their face.

desperately seeking susan. i mean, iphone.

iPhone 4,

I barely knew you. You came into my life, and left me too soon. I find I cannot live without you, but lack the funds to replace you. I'm a dumbass that lost you, but you made me love you. Come back? I promise I will tape you to my hand so I won't lose you again. Or at least wire me the money so I can get one of your relatives.

Sincerely,
The dumbass who needs your electronic loving but lost you in Walmart.

i'm a sissy.

So, last night, I had a bit of a nervous breakdown.

It's been building for a few weeks (months, more likely). It started when I moved even further away from my hometown, now four hours away. It started when I found some old drawings my very closeknit group of best friends made me when I was flying back from Colorado a million years ago. It started when I read on facebook that one of my best friends, Jonathan, was sitting on one of my other best friend, Jodi's, front porch waiting on the town Christmas parade to start, which just so happens to pass in front of her house on Main St.

I broke last night when I got emailed a faux-christmas newsletter that Jodi and Jonathan do every year. It's completely crazy, this invented Southern family they made up, and they have back stories for all the members, and the newsletter made me laugh so hard, that I cried, and then I cried because I missed laughing that hard.

I am homesick. Hardcore, painfully homesick.

The cure? On New Year's Eve, I'm heading home, for at least 4 or 5 days. Maybe longer. I need my town, my friends, the familiarity, the ease of sitting on a porch and laughing about absolutely nothing but inside jokes that are ridiculous and hilarious and goddamn, I miss it.

I'm coming, ya'll.

the big apple.

So, speaking of my sister, she is in NYC on her honeymoon, and her husband surprised her with tickets to see the David Letterman show. They went to the taping this afternoon, which airs tonight. She said they were 2nd row, right by the aisle, so there is a good chance she'll be shown when they do the audience shots. The guest tonight is Denis Leary, which is also awesome. Check it out!

my little sister.

When me and my sister Jo were growing up, we were poor. For reals. Like, my dad had to go door to door asking to mow people's lawns so he would have the money to buy Jo diapers. That sort of thing. Both sides of my family are not well off, and while both my parents are now both proud homeowners and are doing rather well for themselves, wealth does not run in the family.

But, you see, me and Jo never knew this growing up. We're 2 years and 1 month apart, and have always been best friends. I think we've had ONE fight, and it was over in like 6 hours (and we were both pregnant and hormonal and bitchy as hell, so I mean, that doesn't even count). My mom would put our asses out in the fenced in HUGE yard (biggest yard in the trailerpark, bitches!), and we would play in dirt, and on the swingset my pawpaw saved the money to buy us, and on second hand toys that my mama got at garage sales. We had a fucking blast. Jo followed me around faithfully, and we played pretend, and sang stupid songs, and we would go in for lunch, then right back outside to play until it was close to dark. We have home video of me and her just looking at each other and cracking up. We have the same sense of humor, and just get each other.

I love my sister. Jo is the smartest, most driven person I know, to be completely honest. I'll be frank, I'm pretty smart, but that chick is brilliant. She went into the gifted program in 4th grade, stayed in it until high school, and then she took all the advanced courses. She was well rounded, joining me and my clique in speech and debate to do acting, but also excelling in math (my downfall), science, english, and everything else. She seriously was upset when she got a B (which was rare).

She moved to Lafayette after graduating high school to go to the University of Louisiana at Lafayette (UL) on a full scholarship, and did incredibly well, graduating a couple years ago with a degree in accounting. She scored an awesome internship at a big shot accounting firm while still in school, and after graduating, they hired her full time, and she's still there. She has perfect credit. She has a shiny new car. She has a beautiful baby boy, who turned 2 in November. He and my son were supposed to be born only 3 weeks apart, but she had a rough pregnancy and he was born via emergency c-section 7 weeks early, weighing a tiny 3lbs. He was in the nicu for just under a month.

When I had my kiddo 2 months after she gave birth, my son weighed 8lbs, 10 oz., 3 times what hers did. It hit me then how strong she was, because all the time her tiny baby was in the hospital, she never let it get to her, she dutifully pumped breastmilk to make him healthy, she was there in the nicu as much as she could, and she never complained. We would have understood if she did, but she didn't.

Last Friday, she got married. I was to be a matron of honor, but I'm still getting over bronchitis and on Friday, I was practically dead to the world, and I couldn't make it. I'm still devastated. I did have the honor of taking her bridal portraits, and she was (is) beautiful. Congrats, JoJo. I love you more than anything.

devil went down to philadelphia.

So, I'm up super late. I had a late night meeting for coffee on Pirate's Alley (yeah I said it) in the French Quarter with a new friend, this really fun and interesting guy named Chris who just moved here from Washington State. I love Pirate's Alley, there is a teeny tiny bar that also serves coffee and has an outdoor patio. Right near Jackson Square. Anyways so when I got home, me and Tony watched Devil.

Ya'll. YA'LL. That shit was scary. Most people say ol' M. Night's movies are predictable, but I'm stupid when it comes to movies and usually don't guess right, but I don't see how anyone can say this one was predictable. I really, really liked it (besides being scared shitless). I'm really looking forward to the next Night Chronicle (google it).

FYI, thats my answer for everything. Google it.

In closing, the Devil and the movie Devil are some scary shit. I need Jesus, ya'll. One thing is for sure, I'm not going to sleep right now. Thank you, Ritalin! I would be having some fucked up nightmares.