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Why I am unique, and how my environment affects this.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Away from home...and getting some sleep

While I really do miss my boys, I can't say that I miss Martin waking in the middle of the night, screaming, or Jason pawing frantically at my bloated, pregnant body wanting sex and keeping me from the sweet sleep that I desire most. I love Martin, but I wish that he would sleep through the night. I love Jason, but I wish that my bloated body wasn't feeding the high flames of his desire and making him want it every night. What does he think? That we are dating? Pfft, he BOUGHT the cow, silly man. I must really say, thank you to all THREE lovely women so far who have left me comments. I love you all. You give me the inspiration to keep writing this drivel. And yes, of course you may link to my blog. You don't even have to ask. But I appreciate the thought. Oh yes. Why am I away from home (getting all this sinful sleep)? Well, it's the job you see. Here I am in lovely, scenic Somerset, NJ. This actually is maybe my first trip here where I have driven around twice now, while it was still light out. A first for me. But I digress. I am here, for the company for which I work. Slaving away, trying to convince customers to buy our product. SO far, it seems to be working. But what I am really loving is all the sleep I am getting. I go to bed at 10, wake at 6 and I get EIGHT FULL HOURS OF SLEEP!!! Yes, I had to yell that. I had so much energy, I actually did some exercise today! Will wonders never cease? I don't think so. But all returns to normal tomorrow, when I get in the Freestar (company vehicle) point it due south (in the midst of rush hour traffic, no doubt) and return home to my boys, who I really do miss. No. Really. Also, two people have noticed (well, commented on anyway) my preggo belly today. A co-worker and a complete stranger. Funny thing is, the co-worker who I see more often than he-who-noticed, well, he didn't notice. I should be glad, as this means that he doesn't regard me as a sexual creature. (phew!) BTW, have you noticed that I have been in a good mood for DAYS now? What's up with that? Thanks for reading!

Monday, July 25, 2005

Happy days

Oooh, I got a comment! Hooray for me, at least one other person on this planet has read my words, and gotten a bit of amusement from them as well. What more could I ask for. I shall just bask in the glow for a bit... A bit later. I had a nice weekend. Despite the fact that I did stuff. It was still nice. I went shopping, which is always nice. And it was unexpected, bonus shopping, which is always better. Then I had to go and ruin it by spending most of Sunday working away. What ever happened to keeping the Sabbath holy? Whilst I scrubbed the disgusting bathrooms (ugh, germ and bacteria ridden dens of filth) I considered hiring a cleaning service, but Jason would not allow it. I don't even have to be silly enough to ask. Here's how it would go: Me: "Why don't we hire a cleaning service." Jason: "Why?" Me: "You know, I really hate cleaning the bathrooms, it is gross, I hate it." Jason: "Fine, I will do it." At this point you are thinking, he'll do it, you're crazy. What is wrong with you? You have a man offering to clean the bathroom. And I say...Oh, but he neglected to mention that he will indeed clean the bathroom, making me feel guilty and less of a person for not wanting to, and bitch to me about it. Like the trash and kitty litter, for example. I hate taking the trash out, and as a result, I refuse to do it. Period. I don't mind the kitty litter, however. As a matter of fact, part of my mind-control, freaky self would rather be scooping-the-poo, as I call it. But being pregnant, Jason is concerned that our unborn child will be exposed to toxoplasmosis. Never mind. The fact being, he was all pissy today that he had to do these things, AND feed Martin. I have no sympathy. This is 2005, men are expected to HELP around the HOUSE and NOT BITCH about it. Anyway, I finally told my boss I was knocked up, which is good. I no longer have to lurk around the office, sucking my belly in.

Friday, July 22, 2005

I am sad, today.

I am sad, but not in the way I have been sad. If that makes any kind of sense. Why do people have to destroy things? I hate people sometimes. I logged into a favorite blog of mine, 100 reasons why I hate my husband. Only to discover that some jerk-off didn't approve of her blog, saw fit to threaten her and her family so she has shut down her blog. Thanks a lot. So what if she hates her husband? Big deal. It's a free country. Stop being jerks, people. That maks for one less blog I read. On the other hand, I am happy. For I got TWO things last night. SEX and SLEEP. My kind of night. That's right, I had SEX. With my lawfully wedded husband, so get over it. Martin had a bad night though, but Jason was such a sweetheart, he took care of Martin whilst I got me some sleep. I think he just wants more sex. Fine with me, as long as I get sleep, he can have sex. I am glad that he finally made the leap. Also, my mom has not pissed me off in two days. I don't know if the planets are just in alignment, or what. I don't care. Oh yes, I have updated my links! I added some more cool, new blogs I found. Speaking of blogs. Now I am definitely going to get blackballed from my birth club. But who cares? It's not that they even like me. They sure don't. I am like the invisible poster. They probably look at my post, and think, if that stupid bitch really thinks I'm responding, she's on the la-la. But it still doesn't keep me from posting. I still do. Every now and then there is a nice woman on there who will actually answer my post, so who cares. But I tried to read some of those women's blogs, and it was like pulling teeth. Seriously. Now I have to admit, I am no literary genius, nor do I even write about anything, any sane person could give a crap about. But I do think I at least make my idiocy amusing, somewhat, no? Well maybe not. Maybe my blog is crap too. Like I care. Only my opinion matters anyway.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Happy days...

This could be a good (almost) day. I was attacked on my birth club (bulletin board) on babycenter.com. Difference of opinions on those boards are not taken lightly. I am sure that I will be ignored on yet another birth club. This has already happened to me before, with Martin's birth club. You see, I have a short attention span, and posting on bulletin boards on a religious basis is just not my thing. I maybe post 1-2 times a week, month, or even longer. So when I would post it was generally ignored; while another poster could post about, oh lets just say, the color of her socks for the day and she would get maybe 200 responses. I could post about Martin's projectile vomiting and was that normal, with persistent bumps by myself, I would get maybe 3 responses. As a matter of fact, there was even a blogging thread, which I dutifully posted on. I am sure that even my blog will be ignored, as it will prove to be either not thought provoking enough, or too thought provoking. ehhh. I should consider it a good day when I can post on those boards and get ignored. You see, I am not like normal women, I am the ab-normal woman. But I am having a good day. Maybe this is because I went to bed early (around 9pm), had an actual breakfast this morning, my mom did not piss me off to no end, Martin was a sweetheart. It is also in spite of the fact that I did not have sex last night, but there is always hope since I am fully rested for once. I have hope. We also went to the Home Depot last night, where we got a spray-on bug, oops insect, killer, permethrin. I can't remember the brand name, this commonly happens. Permethrin is a wonderful, wonderful thing. It is minimally toxic to humans and animals, but incredibly toxic to insects and arachnids. Lovely. I also have a bit of geeky, chemist related history with this compound as well. So Jason went out last night and rescued my Potentilla from being devoured. Then he also sprayed the plants around the patio, and Martin's play structure. My mother complains about the mosquitoes and I don't really care, but it does mean she doesn't take Martin out as much, so it all comes back. I also have a headache, but what is new? I am convinced that my headache is a sign of a huge tumor that is inside my brain. I think it started in undergraduate p-chem lab, where we were using benzene for some crappy experiment. I got an intense headache, and when I told my lab-partner he said "That's not a headache, that's the tumor growing in your brain". Not that I believe that he was/is some future-seeing, medical-type person. I do think, and am convinced to this day, that I do indeed have a gigantic tumor growing in my head. I mean, how do they know I don't? I have never had a CAT scan or MRI done. Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Hmmmm, life as I know it

I have been a not-so-happy camper lately. Life seems to have lost it's luster, know what I mean? Maybe I just need to have sex with Jason, but being a woman, I have to believe that not all my problems will be solved by sex, so maybe sex and some exercise. I used to live through exercise. Everyday would find me in the gym. Now, it's been months since I've seen the inside of a gym. I find this troubling. I get winded by running up a flight of stairs, this never happened before. The only problem is time. I need more time. If I could stop sleeping, that would be great. Or sleep like 1 hour or something. Sorry about those mammoth posts lately, my mind just kind of ran away, you know? Oh, right. Remember how I hate my mom? Well, I still do. She was trying to be all nice to me this morning, asking if I wanted her to tie the sleeves on my shirt, etc. But then she showed her true colors. Always does. Martin was extra clingy, no wonder that, he woke up at 6am, usually he sleeps until 8am or better. SO I was trying to eat my toast (lets just say for the record that I usually don't even bother with breakfast anymore, because I just want to get out of the house ASAP, which I think is giving Martin a raw deal.), and he was crawling all over me. So I abandon the toast (not really hngry anyway) and go play with him on the floor. She is reading her accursed paper at the table, and she asks if she should play with him while I finish my breakfast. This is her MO. She makes herself an integral part of the household, like a leech, or a parasite. I refuse to let this happen. So, I said NO. Anyway, I go back to finish my cold, nasty toast and he starts up again, so she goes plays with him. I take my plate in the kitchen, then walk back into my throne-room to finish my make-up and she says "Oh Mommy, look at the tower I built" It just sets my teeth on edge. I have friggin eyes. I can SEE the tower. I am an OBSERVANT person, unlike others. Oh, I neglected to mention her nasty comment about how I was walking on my pants. Hello? I'm five foot, two inches. I told her there was nothing I could do about it until I put my shoes on. I hate her. Gsoh, that was nice. Just writing about it makes me feel better. Oh yeah, I hate my job, too. Thanks for reading!

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Pictures of us...

This is the happy family. Jason, Martin and I. This is my Mom, Satan. See? She cant' even take a decent picture. Martin is probably 4 months old in this picture. Don't fall in!!! Just kidding. This is Martin in front of a large tank, at an aquarium. I freaked out when I first saw this picture.

Sometimes...I want to kill the entire world.

I am having one of those days, and it isn't even lunchtime. I have THREE major gripes, no, make that FOUR, and several million smaller ones, that in the interest of time and my attention span, I can't even get into right now. 1) There is some disconnect between the following: Me, blogger.com, Mozilla Firefox 2) Why does my Mother wear my shoes? 3) Why does my Mother see fit to make snide comments directed at me? 4) Why is Jason so cheap? Smaller ones: Why can't I find any decent clothes? Why can't I make it to Home depot before my poor plants are devoured? Why can't I find a bird bath? Lets address these, and if I have the energy I may address the smaller ones, but I probably won't. 1) I decided yesterday that it was ridiculous to have a worthless blog, so I updated it (finally), the republished it. Note, that I have recently installed Firefox, so I am now using a new browser. Also note, that while I have a Ph.D., this obviously in no way means I have the most basic and rudimentary understanding of how the hardware and software of a computing device work, but I still like to think I am "smart" and will try and fix things, only making them worse. Much worse, usually. This is relevant because I just assume that Firefox is like IE, but just giving Bill Gates the finger, but I am almost constantly reminded that these are, indeed, two completely different web browsers. So, back to the blog. I also made a few minor, cosmetic changes as well. Very minor. And updated my links. First of all, I couldn't run spell check. I don't type very well, so this is an absolute necessity for me. So I had to actually read my post 5 times to make sure there were no obvious spelling mistakes. Then, when all was said and done and I actually wrote, edited, posted and re-published my blog. Then when I went to view my blog, I had my old, unchanged blog come up. I ran around, chasing my tail for a bit, re-publishing and re-viewing, over and over and over again. Still no change. So I looked at the Help pages. No help. So I wrote to the blogger help people. Oh, BTW, I DID figure out to get spell check to work in the process, however. I had to enable pop-up windows, so at least the works now. SO after I wrote my pathetic, help mail, I tried refreshing the window, and lo and behold, there is my new blog. So the blogger help crew will now think I am a total moron. Idiot. My Mother. I will just lump points two and three together, because they both have the same root cause, that being my mother. You know that saying, you can't choose your family? I feel this everyday. My mother lives with us. Why? Well, the official reason I give everyone is that she lives with us so that she can look after Martin. The actual reason is that she is terrible with money, and never saw fit to save any, and now she can't support herself. Why can't she support herself? I really have to explain this. She saw fit to have two children. My sister, Michelle, and myself. I am 34, my sister is 40. We have different fathers. My mother was never married to either one of these men. This is a fact that I have always been acutely embarrassed off, and I would go out of my way to hide this from everyone. In fact, I am not even sure Jason knows this. I know it is stupid for me to care about something that I have no control over, but to this day, it annoys me. And this is not the place to go into why, exactly. Anyway, so my mom had to raise us two girls, with minimal help from our fathers. She was basically a office administrator type. She changed jobs a lot, probably because she had problems with her bosses about raising two kids by herself. When I left home (Good riddance, says I), she had the house she had bought, and a full time job. My sister had moved to California around the same time for her first "real" job, so my mom was an empty-nester. Then, I don't know how it happened, the house was fore-closed on, and mom moved in with Michelle, looking after her kids over the next 10 or so years. My mom is obnoxious. So obnoxious, in fact, most people don't like her. She is 56 or something like that, so she isn't terribly old. She stayed out of the job force long enough, now she could never go back, because she can barely turn a computer on. I have inherited her. Michelle divorced her husband, and moved to Chicago. She was thrilled to have mom out of her life. Have I mentioned that mom is also an alcoholic? One in EXTREME denial about it. I put my foot down when she came to live with us. I said, no drinking. You drink, you leave. When she drinks, ugh. I can't even describe it. She turns into Satan or something. Yeah, like I want that looking after my child. Jason, Martin and I took a long weekend to go back to my undergrad school. I was invited to give a talk there, and we spent the Sat going to a football game. We got back late Sunday night. When I got up the next morning, she was loaded. Completely tanked. I was actually seeing red. Really. I was. I called into work. She blew it off, like it was no big deal. Slurring, "do you think I can't look after my grandson?" I told he NO, YOU CAN'T. Just writing this pisses me off. Having her there is such a burden, and Jason can't stand her. So she looks after Martin. I hate her. I really do. She is my mother, and I hate her. I hate her for being so financially inept, that she can no longer support herself, and I have to support her. I hate the fact that she lives with us. She'll probably live for another 30 years, then I'll be in my 60s by the time I am free. I used to wish that she would get married again, but no man will put up with her. I hate her. I wish I could kick her out of my house. So, with that cleared up. Why does she wear my shoes? Why? She has shoes, I have seen them. When I was backing out, leaving for work, she was bringing Martin out for a walk, and she was wearing my shoes. Why? I don't want her bare feet in my flip flops. I am getting more and more neurotic as I get older, and one thing I am neurotic about is shoes. I wouldn't even consider buying a pair of used shoes, because the thought of someone else's bare feet in a pair of shoes is just disgusting to me. Yuck. No. So now, when I wear my own M***er F***ing shoes, I have to share her shed skins cells, skin mites, etc. STOP WEARING MY SHOES!!! WEAR YOUR OWN!! So, I have been a bit slacker on my ironing lately. So when I woke up this morning, I realized I was going to have to iron. Jason got up early and cleared out. BTW. I work in this office, see. I work in sales, see. So even though, there is only 5 people in my office. These people being the three applications scientist (my two co-workers and me), the north American director of sales (my boss), and the eastern region sales coordinator (Jackie), we are expected to adhere to a business-type dress code. We can sometimes get away with business casual, when no customers are around. Like today. Like most days, in fact. I love clothes and I LOVE dressing up, so this is no problem for me. But I am pregnant. But not showing, yet, but clothes are beginning to get a bit snug. So today I am wearing, my cool, kicka** Ralph Lauren khakis, with the leather trim on the pockets, so I can feel like an urban cowgirl, and I am wearing a 3/4 sleeve, dress shirt, light blue with white collar and cuffs. Since I got a bit-o-belly, I have been wearing my shirts untucked. My shoes are these cool, closed-toe slip-on mules from Nine-west. Tres Chic. So, I would call this look, business casual. Like, if my boss, or uber-boss were to show up, I would not feel underdressed. So, I get this iron and put on. In between, feeding and changing Martin. She takes one look at me and says (can I get a drumroll please), "Oh, we are casual today (insert bitchy tone here)". I got pissed, I couldn't help myself. I said, no, I am not. She said "it looks casual to me" I said "well, not for my office". Grrrr. What a bitch. Why does she care? Why? What business of hers is it? I could go to work in a stripper's thong, and the only thing she should be asking is "same time home? Shall I feed Martin chicken today?" None of her F***ING business. None whatsoever. I hate her. But I feel responsible for her. I can't just put her on the street, can I? Can I? Jason. Now, I love Jason. More than anything. More than Martin, more than Samantha, more than chocolate, more than shopping, more than make-up, more than my family (duh, on that one). For Jason, I would do almost anything. I'm glad he doesn't know that. It's like that Meatloaf song, but I can't think of anything I would do. Well, I wouldn't vote democratic. Just kidding. But yesterday he offered to take me shopping. So we went. Nordstroms I having their big, anniversary sale. I LOVE Nordstroms. So we go. I had looked on-line and found a sweater, some maternity pants and a cute maternity shirt. Of course, they had none of this in the store. SO we looked and found nothing. I really don't want to buy "normal" clothes, that I won't be wearing for another year, so. However, I have been craving this new Chanel make-up palette. Coromandels. And also a glossimer. Well, Chanel is high-end make up. So the two items came up for a grand total of 88. I usually try and shield Jason from the true price of make-up, but he was right there this time. I have to admit, this is pricey stuff, but I was depressed. Well, he was annoyed, to say the very least. It's not like I spend this kid of money all the time. Sometimes he acts like I go mad, spending money willy-nilly. It is annoying. I am not that irresponsible. Besides, I make almost 6 figures a year. I would think I could buy some make-up with out the snide comments. humpf. Like I said, no time or energy for the rest. Thanks for reading!