You stepped on my Shneck

I may have a touch of OCD.  There are just certain things that I have to have a certain way, no matter what.  For example, the air filter has to be on whenever we are sitting in the living room, even though we haven’t been able to find replacement filters and it probably doesn’t work anyway.  I always wash the in the same order in the shower.  Hangers have to be facing the same way in the closet.  I think everyone has a little of this in them, has their own little quirks or weird aspects of their personality.  But my biggest, most irritating (to AJ) and most rigid OCD thing is The Schedule.

On weekdays, I adhere strictly to a schedule.  We must have dinner by 7.  AJ and I must both be showered and on the couch by 7:30.  EVERYTHING has to be done by 8, and we should both be in bed by 10 at the latest.  Doesn’t this make me sound like some crotchety old lady?  I get very aggitated if The Schedule is not followed.  There may be yelling and even tears if AJ decides we need to eat out and it is already 7:30- way past the time when we should have been eating.  I have no idea why I’m like this, and I don’t want to be!  I want to be cool and flexible, ready to do whatever at a moments notice.  On weekends I am fine; but sometimes on Friday nights I will feel my heart start to race if I look at the clock and things aren’t done.  Then I will remember that it is Friday and I’ll relax.  So obviously I don’t NEED to have The Schedule, or else I would need it on the weekends too. 

AJ get irritated about The Schedule, and I really think that sometimes he messes it up on purpose just because he thinks I’m being dumb.  And I am!  I agree!  But I don’t let that stop me from compulsively reminding AJ of the time, the time, the time. 

Why am I like this?  It has just come about in the last couple years.  I know that once we have kids and stuff, any kind of schedule is out the window, so how am I going to do that? 

Now you all know what a nerd I am.  I have outed myself on the Internet. 

Stop reading this!  Don’t you have a dinner to be eaten?  WHAT TIME IS IT???  

Hey, guess what?  It was my birthday, and I turned 26.  I know that doesn’t seem old to some, but to me it seems ancient.  Especially when I feel no older than maybe fourteen, on a productive day.  Anyway, I had a fantastic birthday weekend. 

Friday we went out to eat with some friends to celebrate.  Saturday AJ took me shopping (!!!!) and I could buy whatever I wanted… within the spending limit.  This was the best present, because I can’t tell you how long it has been since I shopped for myself.  It was wonderful.  I tried on and tried on, and picked out and picked out, and finally ended up with a new shirt, new bra, and new pants.  A whole new outfit!!  Oh, and I actually got measured for my bra and turns out since I got the breast reduction, I have been wearing a size too small… wishful thinking I guess.  So I got the right size.  Then we went to AJ’s sister’s house, had a couple of drinks and played Balderdash, and then we went out to the bar. 

It was the end of the night and we were getting ready to leave.  I was draining my drink when I noticed that AJ was talking to an unfamiliar girl.  I figured it was someone he went to school with or something.  Well, then the girl comes over to me and introduces herself…. turns out that this was THE girl, you know, the one before me that he dated for years and the first girl he said “I love you” to and the first girl that broke his heart.  Needless to say, I don’t like her.  I was polite, though, and held it together well.  THEN she introduces us to her husband, and guess what?  He is supposed to be the caterer for our wedding!!  Ha!  Isn’t it a small world?  (I don’t really think it is funny)

Anyway, Sunday we went to my parent’s house for some quality time and some of my mom’s should-be-illegal-they-are-so-good beef tips over noodles. 

 So that was great, and I had a really good time (minus meeting the girl).  But tonight is when it all comes crashing down.  See, every year my father likes to pretend that my stepmother and I get along just like best friends, and on my birthday we all have to go out and pretend to like each other.  We don’t.  And the thing is that she knows I don’t like her, I know she doesn’t like me, and that’s fine with both of us.  It is only my dad’s fantastic notion that maybe we will just see each other and hug and forgive.  Not gonna happen, on either side.  There are a lot of reasons for this dislike, too many to get into here, but isn’t this supposed to be my birthday?  Why do I have to spend it with someone I don’t like?  I hate it, but I don’t say anything because it seems to mean so much to my dad.  And I’m just that wuss that doesn’t want to make anyone mad.  So I’ll go, and choke down my food that I picked because I like it but then I can’t enjoy because she complains the whole time, and then AJ and I will go home and watch America’s Next Top Model and laugh about what a bitch she is. 

I wish we could skip the whole dinner part and go straight to the bitching. 

AJ and I are such rebels that we are breaking the rules every single day.  Are you impressed?  Well, don’t be, because the rule we are breaking is the one that says we are not allowed to have pets in our apartment.  Sssshhh, don’t tell anyone, but we have two.  Our cats are a part of the family, so we just put them in the closet if someone comes over.  That’s what we do to AJ’s mom, too.  (just kidding!)

Anyway, we got a notice on the door that they would be doing random inspections at our apartment, so of course that meant erasing all evidence of the cats.  We packed up all their stuff to take a trip to Grandma’s, ie my parent’s house.  Then we wrapped them up in sweatshirts and carried them outside.  I was in charge of the little one, Belle, and I got her in the car all right but before I had a chance to shut the door she had run out in the parking lot.  She has never been outside, so I don’t think she really knew what to do.  She kind of just stood there.  AJ got all James Bond on me and crouched down behind a car, slinking on the ground until he could grab her and throw her back in the car.  First obstacle, concurred.  The other cat, Buster, was very upset to be disturbed from his favorite activity of sleeping on the arm of the couch and kept yowling loudly, even when AJ pinched his mouth shut.  Then it was just a muffled yowl. 

They did really well in the car, once they got used to it.  We got them over to my parent’s and then the fun really started.  I carried Belle into the house and was standing there with her in my arms, asking my mom where she wanted me to put them, when my very old and senile dog decided she needed to see what all the commotion was about.  Belle has never seen a dog in her life, so as soon as the dog started excitedly trying to lick her toes, her tail puffed up and she started hissing and growling.  She swiped at me, and then leaped out of my arms to crouch in the corner, growling fierely.  The dog was confused at this creature being so mean to her, and therefore peed all over the floor.  My mom shrieked at me to get the cat out of there, so I carried her to the basement.  Above me, I could hear chairs being scraped back and toenails clicking on the floor, as my mom tried to get the dog outside.  The dog was having none of it, but rather thought they were playing a great new game that involved running around and around the table, barking with joy.  I stayed in the basement, laughing to myself.  AJ finally brought Buster down, who immediately ran to a pile of blankets in the corner and hid.  I guess everything going on upstairs was too much for him. 

We got them all settled when AJ noticed there was some broken glass on the floor.  So then we had to shot-vac the room, which was just great since the one thing the cats hate more than dogs in the vacuum.  Belle hissed at it and did her karate chop paw, and Buster stayed in his blankets. 

After all this, we coaxed them out of their hiding places with food and petting.  I think they did okay once everything settled down, but it was truly the biggest clusterfuck I have ever seen.  The worst part?  The inspection could take place today or SOMETIME NEXT WEEK, so we may have to do it all over again. 

Anyone want to adopt a couple really sweet cats for a week or so? 

Blogs are about being honest, right, and admitting if you have a problem?  Okay, I have a confession to make.  And let me preface by saying that I’m not proud of it, and it is really hard for me to share this….

I have an addiction.  To reality TV. 

I have my favorites, of course, like America’s Next Top Model, Project Runway, True Life, The Real World, etc, but my addiction even goes so far as to include things like Dateline and MSNBC Invesitgates.  If it is “true” and on TV, I’m probably gonna watch it.  And love it.  And become so involved in the story that I start talking about people like I know them, like they are close personal friends.  For example, I may say, “I can’t believe that AJ (not my fiance, a model) got kicked off!  I mean, she had a bad attitude but her pictures were great.”  I don’t know AJ, nor am I part of the panel of judges, but I’ll sure act like I am! 

I think that’s one of the reasons why I love blogs so much, too.  It is a little like reality TV only on my computer screen.  It is a glimpse into people’s private lives, and that’s what I crave.  Perhaps I’m just nosy.  I would never read someone’s diary, or even a piece of mail left on the table, but if you put it out for me to see, then I’m gonna get into it.  My best friend and I discuss blogs that we read, again like we are friends with these people.  “I don’t think her and her husband should give it another try, they really don’t get along…” How do we know that?  We don’t, we just read a post about a blogger and her husband fighting. (hypothetical)

I was thinking of this last night, laying in bed, and I think that I live vicariously through these people.  Remember how I said I was too boring to blog?  I am trying on different personalities all the time, just by prying a little into another person.  I can become the bitch that everyone talks about, or an internet predator, or an anorexic, or a high fashion designer.  That is the beauty of this “reality”. 

Okay, well, I feel loads better now.  My secret is out, and you know that the first step is admitting that you have a problem. 

AJ and I met through mutual friends.  I was moaning and complaining about the lack of good guys out there to date, and my friend thought of AJ and arranged it so that we could meet.  I wore a red shirt, jeans and my high boots.  I brought about five outfits to my friend’s house to choose from, and that was what we came up with. 

We met AJ and my friend’s fiance at a local bar.  The first thing I noticed about AJ was that he was really short.  I immediately regretted the high boots decision, and hoped that they wouldn’t make me taller than him.  The second thing I noticed about him was his smile, which was very nice.  He was wearing black shorts (I know, I know…. he does not own these anymore) and an Addidas T-shirt.  The whole time we sat there, he aimed that gorgeous smile at me and really paid attention to what I was saying.  I liked that. 

We got to know each other at the bar, and then we all decided to go over to my friend’s house.  Once there, my friend and her fiance plopped down on the only couch and left me with a hard decision… should I sit next to AJ, who is sitting in one of the two recliners, or should I appear a little bitchy and sit on the one across the room?  Would it appear too eager to sit myself down on the same chair?  Would he notice my fat rolls if I did?  AJ decided for me when he patted the seat next to him.  I gently lowered myself down.  We watched TV, but obviously I have no idea what was on…. AJ smelled really, really good.  And the tops of his fingers were very lightly brushing my knee.  Before things got too out of hand, I jumped up and announced ridicuosly that I needed some ice cream.  (I wasn’t the most savy with guys.)  AJ offered to go with me.  I told him I would drive, since I was the one that needed the ice cream.  We got in the my car and I was driving down the road when AJ said, “Uh, my door won’t close.”  I told him to pull it shut HARD, he did, and it still wouldn’t close.  I was mortified.  Our first date and he was hanging halfway out of the car, holding on for dear life.  We had to make an emergency stop at the gas station so that AJ could duct tape my door shut.  Little did I know that this was the beginning of many, many car repairs for AJ. 

We got the ice cream, and I took AJ back to his car.  I pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car.  It was silent.  I was kind of wondering what he was waiting for when I remembered… Duh, he has to get out my side because the door is taped shut.  So I scrambled out of the car, and AJ had to slide himself over the seat (and a large pile of crap). 

“Okay, well-” I said, my face bright red.

At that moment he kissed me, a nice light kiss right on my surprised lips. 

“Thanks,” he said, smiled that smile at me again, and got into his car.  I watched him drive away, still feeling that kiss and hoping, hoping, that this wouldn’t be the last I would see of that really nice guy. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t. 

I think I’m too boring to have a blog. 

All that AJ and I ever do is sit and watch TV.  It sounds sad, but true.  And I don’t want to be one of those “entertainment” blogs because I am not a reliable show watcher and really, who cares about my opinion on their favorite shows anyway?  So I am left with my life, which is pretty… boring.  I mean, I like it, but I wouldn’t want to read about it.  “Last night, I watched some TV.  And ate ice cream.”  “Tonight, I watched TV.  And ate ice cream.”  etc, etc.  Not very exciting. 

I did, however, have a job interview yesterday and that right there is perfect blog material, right?  Right.  So I had a job interview.  I am always worried about my outfit, because I’m not that comfortable with the way that I look and I think other people are judging me.  I picked out a flowered skirt and a black sweater set to wear.  First, I got home too late to shave my legs, so panty hose was a necessity.  I HATE panty hose.  I refuse to be realistic and get the size that I actually need, so I continue to buy the same size that I wore in high school.  I can barely pull them all the way up over my ass, and as soon as I do the top rolls down to that space under my stomach fat roll.  But like I said, had to wear them because my legs were looking rough.  So I was uncomfortable.  My skirt felt a million sizes too small.  I was constantly adjusting my sweater so that it would fall just right over my front. 

I parked the car in the wrong place and had to walk across some mud to get to the right one.  My black shoes were nicely spotted with brown.  My panty hose rolled down again.  But- the office was really nice!  And the lady was really nice!  And she asked me a bunch of questions but I am really good at talking so I think I did that okay too! 

*She asked me this question: “Why do you want to work?”  At first I thought she meant why do you want to work HERE, but I asked her to clarify and she said why do you want to work.  I wanted to say that I don’t want to work, I would rather stay in my pajamas all day and watch daytime TV and go out to lunch with my friends, but I didn’t think that was an appropriate answer so I just said, “I think I would get bored at home.  And I have to pay the bills.”  So I was honest, a little.  Why ELSE would someone want to work if it wasn’t for paying bills? *

She told me that the business manager is out of town and that she will be calling for second interviews sometime next week.  I think I would enjoy the job, it looked like a lot of stuff, but it would definitely keep me busy.  I probably wouldn’t be able to blog at work, like I am doing right this second.  But maybe they would pay me enough money that I would actually be able to afford to PURCHASE my very own computer!  And join the rest of the human race! 

So, that’s it.  Last night, I watched TV, and ate some cookies and cream ice cream.  Too boring to blog. 

When AJ and I first got engaged, I was elated, excited, nervous… all the things that a new bride-to-be feels.  I couldn’t wait to start the whole planning process, couldn’t wait to start booking things and planning.  I got myself a wedding book, prepared to write all of my vendors down in one place and keep track of who got what. 

Obviously, I was being totally stupid.

Planning for a wedding sucks.  Not only do I need to be happy, but so does AJ, my mom, my dad, his mom, his sister, the wedding party, etc.  So in essence, I am not planning a wedding for me, but one for my entire family and all of our collective friends.  And no one is happy.  No one wants to spend any money, no one wants to make any commitments to anything, and no one can tell me just exactly what I am supposed to be doing to make things better.

I am not a fancy girl.  Truthfully, I would be happy no matter where the reception is held, because I am marrying the most wonderful man that I know.  Shouldn’t that be what the wedding is about?  It seems that these days it is about how much you spent on the flowers, if you have top shelf liquor at the bar, what kind of entress are served, buffet or not buffet… the list goes on and on.  When did a wedding become about how much you spend, instead of how much you love one another? 

All I am asking for is a nice, fun wedding and reception.  I really don’t care where it is, as long as there is good music and plenty to drink.  I have called every possible reception site in my entire state, it seems, but my mom is never satisfied with the price.  I offered to pay for half, she didn’t like that idea either.  I offered to ask my dad for some money, she didn’t want to do that.

I was really looking forward to planning this with my mom.  I am her only daughter, so I thought she would be excited to go through all the planning with me.  I thought wrong.  She is too busy doing her own things to even return a phone call half the time.  And I am not begrudging her her life, I swear!  I know she has her own shit to take care of, and that she is a busy lady.  But just once, I would like to have her undivided attention for more than a two minute stretch and actually sit and talk about this.  Make some plans.  Get excited.  Giggle like two schoolgirls.  I don’t think this is asking too much.  I am trying very hard not to seem selfish, or spoiled.  I don’t want my wedding to be the cause of any bad feelings… I want everyone to remember it with fondness, not dread. 

Maybe we’ll just elope. 

Sometimes being a responsible adult sucks, and I want to pull my hair back in pigtails, put on my Osh Gosh overalls, and pedal my Big Wheel as far away from being a grown-up as I can.  It seems that there are always these choices to be made, and I’m not very good at making them.  I have to decide if I want to be the good me, who pays the bills on time and goes to the grocery store for food, or the bad me, who wants to say fuck you to the bills and eat out for the rest of my life. 

I have a thing for eating out.  It could be that I live in a pretty boring town, and going out is something to do.  It could be that I was a server for years, and I like having someone serve me.  But I am sometimes willing to put everything on hold, just to go out to eat.  And I end up eating too much, to get the total experience, and then I feel fat and irresponsible.  And then I start thinking of all the other, more responsible things I could spend my money on, and then I feel guilty.  Really, I don’t know why I put myself through it, because later I will have knots in my stomach and will be whining to AJ that we shouldn’t have done that. 

I guess this is all a part of being an adult, and yeah, sometimes it really sucks, but I guess there are good things about it, like… uh…. oh, I know!  If I want to stay up all night I can!  If I want to wear pajama’s exclusively all weekend I can!  If I want to eat the entire carton of Ben & Jerry’s I can!  And… I’m out.  That’s all I can think of.  So I guess I better get back to work, to earn the money to pay the bills, to go home and… put on my pajama’s, stay up all night and eat ice cream?  Doesn’t seem like a fair trade off to me. 

Damn it.

• First, the breast.  I went to the doctor a couple days ago, and apparently the lump is just something left over from the surgery, nothing to worry about, I have to watch it for a year and if it doesn’t go away, I’ll have to have it taken out so that there will be no further freakouts about cancer.
• The period.  Well, I never got it, but the doctor said that the birth control that I’m on sometimes causes the lining to be so thin that you don’t bleed.  That’s great news to me!  I also took 2 pregnancy tests in as many weeks, and both were negative, so no baby, no period… sounds good to me.
• I finally got my prescription filled yesterday, and just knowing that my little happy pills are running through my system is making this day a little easier to get through. 
• It is Friday, and I am looking forward to a long weekend of not ever changing out of my pajamas. 

Oh god, I have started this three times and I am so frustrated and angry and just plain bitchy that I kept backspacing.  Okay, for those of you that know how it feels to want to murder everyone around you and then sit in the wreckage and sob  to have to rely on medication to keep you at an even keel, you will know how I am feeling right now.  I have been without my Zoloft for about two weeks, and I am definitely feeling the effects.  I bounce back and forth from being insanely angry to being unreasonably depressed, all in the space of five minutes and all for pretty much no reason.  I called AJ a motherfucker today for leaving the TV on.  My arms are not broken, there is no reason why I can’t pick up the remote myself and switch it off, or *gasp* even go and manually turn it off, no, I just was so mad about it that I exploded with motherfucker.  Then I went in the bathroom and cried.

Why have I been without it for so long?  Well, for the first week it was because we didn’t really have the extra money, and at the time I was feeling all right, so I convinced myself that I didn’t need to get it right away.  The second week I decided that I wanted to switch pharmacies.  I took the empty bottle into the pharmacy and was told that I didn’t have any more refills.  Oh yeah, because I had brought in the wrong bottle… the one I had said I had one refill, but that was the wrong one.  So I had to call my doctor’s office, who told me that it would take 48 hours to get the refill called into the pharmacy.  That was Monday. Since then, I have cried at my desk every day, cried while driving, yelled at AJ for any number of things that were ridiculous, and then cried some more.  I want to simultaneously throw people out the window and also stab someone in the eye.  I called the pharmacy again today (remember, this has been well over 48 hours) and they said that the doctor’s office had never been in touch with them.  So I cried again, and then called the doctor.  They were, of course, at lunch.  I called AJ and cried to him.  I called the doctor’s office back, and the receptionist said, “Oh yeah, that’s in the nurse’s box.  Why don’t you call the pharmacy again tonight and see if it’s in yet?”  I kind of shrieked at her and told her, a little hysterically, that I needed it.  She calmly told me to call the pharmacy later.  I cried.

I hate the fact that I have this disease called depression.  I hate knowing just what the bottom of the black hole looks like.  I hate having to rely on something to regulate my feelings, and I hate people not understanding that I DO have a disease, and it is not something that I can control on my own.  But I have come to terms with it, and just like someone who has asthma and has to use an inhaler, I have to take medication to control it.  However, none of that helps when you are sitting with tears dripping uncontrolably down your cheeks, when the whole world seems against you and you can’t control the dark thoughts that stream across your mind. 

Basically, I need my medicine.  And if there is none waiting for me when I call the pharmacy tonight, heads will roll.  Heads will roll, and tears will fall, and poor AJ… he may need somewhere else to stay tonight.