The Measure of Love

When you think of love, your boy(girl)friend or spouse, what do you think? The overly romantacized version of Hollywood love? Fall in love, overcome some horrible trauma, fall into each others arms to live happily ever after? I used to think that way too. Now I know its not all flowers and roses. When I was a teenager I went after the bad boy in hopes of rehabilitating him and turning him into the love of my life, blah blah blah, a regular old Hollywood movie about teen angst and if he had just one person who loved him unconditionally he would turn his life of hatred and fear around and love me back. Feel sick to your stomach yet? The lesson I learned in that season of my life is people will not change for you, they only change for themselves, if you think for one instant they are changing for you? You are being used, manipulated and degraded. And it's your own fault. Don't get me wrong. People can and do change for others. But it has to be their choice. They have to want to change for you. That, my deahhhh's, is they ultimate key. Love is powerful enough to make them WANT to change. The key is also the catch 22. It's hard to tell the difference between when they change because they love you and want to and when they're just manipulating you. It leads to many a broken heart and bruised soul. But when you find the person you need to be with, every wound, every bruise, every tear shed in the agony of broken heart after broken heart is worth it, and they no longer matter. It can't hurt you any more and you can look back and appreciate everything good and bad about every relationship no matter how long or how short it was. You realize you learn from each and every situation you go through, and how abso-fucking-lutely lucky you are to have found what you have. The things that give me the warm fuzzy feeling about love and make me feel like my heart might burst from the love I feel, so much so it almost hurts, are the times he held my hair when I puked. How considerate he can be when I least expect it. That he works so hard every day to give me the things that I want in life and still fulfill his own needs. That he lectures me 'For your own good'. That he'll argue with me, when he argues it means he still cares what I think and do. These are the things that make me know, deep in my heart and my soul, that he loves me. Look for the good in you life, in your loves. Even when it seems at it's worst, there's always a spark, a tiny point of love. Appreciate it. Acknowledge it. It's seldom easy (especially if you're wrong) but do it every day. Every.Day. Tell them you need them, love them and appreciate them. And tell them why. They need to know, to hear it from you. It makes your heart light, lifts you up, makes you feel loved in your darkest hour, and we all need that. Look for it. It's there.


Christmas Card Killers

I've started receiving Christmas cards from the girls a couple days ago. Apparently I neglected to tell The Capt. that I have given out our home address to people on the World Wide Interweb. *oops* This is how our conversation went:

Day 1.

Me: OOOoooo *squeee* I got a card from Carissa!

Capt: Who's that?

Me: One of the girls I hang out with online.....

Capt: Oh..

Day 2.

Me: OOOOOOoo *squeeee* I got a card from Kait!

Capt: Who's that?

Me: One of the girls I hang out with online.....

Capt: Someone's going to murder you ya know....

Me: What????

Capt: One of your 'Interweb Fwends' is going to turn out to be a crazy 45 year old guy who just got out of jail and he's going to kill you. And when people ask me what happened I'm going to have to tell them "Oh, she went online and gave out her information. Some crazy guy killed her." *shrug*

Me: *LaLaLaLaLaLa* I can't hear you.

I love my BIFF's and think they should all come to my house this summer and we can party like it's 1999, oh and you can smack The Capt. for thinking you're men.



Snakes in my MuthaFuckin' Brain!

Thank you Samuel L. Jackson. Thank you for that.

Well, last night I had the worst nights sleep I have ever had, and the poor Capt.! I'm quite lucky he didn't kil me. Usually when I have nightmares it's about spiders and not usually a big deal. I dream they are on my legs under the blankets and I wake up, push the blankets back, make sure my legs are bug free and thats the end of it. I can go back to sleep no problem. Last night however, I dreamt of snakes. ALL.NIGHT.LONG. Apparently I was talking in my sleep (which is not that out of the ordinary), thrashing, and at one point I woke myself up by sitting straight up in bed sobbing and SHRIEKING at the top of my lungs "OHNOOOOOOOOOOOOO" repetedly. The Capt. kept trying to calm me down all night and I apparently mistook him for a snake at one point and beat the crap out of him. Today as a result of my 'Battle Royal' I am exhausted. Whn my alarm went off at 6:30 I almost cried.

I think I am drinking until I pass out tonight. Fucking dreams.....



You see that button over there?

Yeah, that Web Awards button? Go there, Vote for Rockstar Mommy. Go now. Shoo.... go vote. Or we might have to cut you. For realz, Yo.

Made by Mama Jen




I can not believe I got tagged to do this shit. So not photo ready. F off Mad Mom!


Oh, Also, to pass this tid bit of photographic hell along I tag:



Sir Chachi (he never comes here)


SS Katie

Sorry if I'm double tagging, I'm too lazy to go check who else has already been tagged. ;P


Men! MEN! *hate and friggin discontent*

Are ya kidding me?? SERIOUSLY!!?????? Cuz, fer realz, I don't heart this at all! Think back to a month or so ago when The Capt. WREAKED.THE.TRUCK blah blah blah, we're having the work done right? It has taken a month to get it fixed, between waiting on the Insurance Adjusters, parts and sick repair guys. Today it is fixed! Finally. My repair guy said because it is his fault he would pay for our rental truck. Exceptionally nice of him right? Right. The Capt. went to return the rental today and PAID FOR IT. WHY WOULD YOU PAY FOR IT???? He's all happy, he called me as he's walking back from Enterprise

The Capt: So I returned the truck. It only cost $300, I put it on the credit card.

Me: *&#!?(&%WMBSGS)(&%$#$* WHY did you pay for it instead of calling me?

The Capt: Well I don't know what's going on, you never tell me anything. *pout*

Me: *grumble, miserable, never listens to me* I'll call the shop...

So tell me true... What is the Golden Number of times I need to repeat myself to be heard and understood?



Excuse me? Do you Work here?

Like the unerring asshole I am I decided to go shopping at our local crafty shit store Michaels on Saturday. Let me just say this. STOOPID! There was a traffic jam at the door because no one can carry 3 balls of yarn and a 6 foot piece of garland without possibly herniating a disk. I mean lord knows, those pretty glass ball ornaments must weigh all of .03587612 lbs! As I'm winding my way through this traffic clusterfuck a woman approaches me. Let me give you the first of many stoopid conversations I had that day.

Me: *grumble grumble stupid fuckers, stop hitting me with that cart before I shove it up your fat ass stoopid*

Pretty Yuppie Lady: Um, Excuse me?? EXCUSE ME??!??!!

Me: Who?? Me?

Pretty Yuppie Lady: Yes, can you tell me where those little hanger things are for ornaments? I have been all over your store and I can't find them anywhere. What DO your employees do? ANYTHING??

Me: Excuse me? I don't work here. I can't imagine what might have made you think I work here?! Is it my ORANGE shirt, while miraculously all of the staff is wearing BRITE FUCKING RED APRONS???

She ran away. Quickly.

After fighting MORTAL COMBAT * hear music here* style through he throngs of disgruntled, 'I am the only person who is important' people I finally made my way back to the yarn isle. As I peruse through the many colors and textures I hear yet another....

Lil'Old Black Lady: Excuse me?

Me: *Oh shit* Yes?

Lil'Old Black Lady: Are you a Colors girl?
*What I heard was "Are you a ColorED girl"*

Me: *Blank Stare of total and utter confusion* Excuse me?

Lil'Old Black Lady: I mean do you know your colors? What goes with what?

I spent 30 minutes with this lady trying to help her find two colors that matched well enough to make a scarf, which is ok. I don't truly mind helping, but then she follows up this half an hour of 'help' with this

Lil'Old Black Lady: Do you think you could help my friend too?

Me: UUUUuuuuuhhhhmmm......... Sure I guess I could try...........

So it looks like I shall be The Good Elf Helps A lot this Christmas season. I might just barricade myself in my house after all!



Stupid Christmas.....

I have eleventy friggin billion Christmas associated things to do before Christmas in all it commercial glory gets here. I don't think I am going to make it. Lets review the list shall we?

1. Exchange The Capt.'s gift because he now wants something else, rather than what he told me he wanted in the first place.

2. Decorate the house (I am not sure why I bother... It's not like I have kids, or any of my family here to celebrate with)

3. Get a Christmas tree. (I want to know when pine friggin trees started coming out gold plated cuz seriously? $60 friggin bucks for a dying tree? *Pshaw* What evs--)

4. Get more yarn for the 367,1862 bajillion scarves I am making


6. Finish shopping for everyone

7. Christmas cards. A lot of them.

8. Remember to mail stupid cards

9. Clean my house (I am so behind)

10. Pop my ear drums with a dull object so I do not have to hear 'I Wanna Hippopontamuse For Christmas', 'Dominick The Italian Christmas Donkey', or 'You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch" any more. Cuz, SERIOUSLY? I CANNOT TAKE IT ANYMORE!

11. More stuff that I can not think of right now but will stealthily sneak up on me mere moments before I should have had them done so I turn into a screaming raving lunatic and run away from home.

Merry Friggin Christmas all

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