January 2008

See blogroll for his site – it’s awesome!

Jessica Renee Ross

YOUR FLYGIRL/FLYBOY NAME: (first 4 letters of real name + izzle.)

YOUR RAP NAME: (first initial of first name, first three or four letters of your last name)
J Ross

YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color + favorite animal)
Red Cat (so somebody needs to explain to me how I have a Moose-Dog!)

YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (your middle name + street you live on)
Renee Irondale

YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your dad’s side, your favorite candy)
Phyllis Snickers (that one cracks me up)

YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (your first pet’s name + street you grew up on)
Fufu Brook Glen (uh, okaaaay)

YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name + first 2 letters of your first name)

JEDI NAME: (middle name spelled backwards, your grandmother’s maiden name spelled backwards)
Eener Nosrekcin

YOUR SUPERHERO NAME: (second favorite color + favorite alcoholic drink)
Pink Seabreeze (that’s just gay)

YOUR ACTION HERO NAME: (first name of a main character in the last movie you watched, last food you ate)
Arwen Crackers (oh jeez)

YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (your parents’ middle names)
Jean Eugene (that’s ironic … somehow)

YOUR GOTH NAME: (black + the name of your pet)
Black Magnus (this is surely already a sex toy.  I’m going to hell now)

YOUR ARABIC NAME: (second letter of your first name + third letter of your last name + fourth letter of your middle name + second letter of your moms maiden name + third letter of you dad’s middle name + first letter of a siblings first name + last letter of your mom’s middle name)
Eseogkn (I feel this is my Eskimo name though)

Sorry, I’m not spellchecking this one.  It’ll underline freaking everything!


My coach is moving back to New Mexico.  I have cried all the tears I have (I think anyway), and moved to the anger phase today.  I yelled at my ex-husband for no reason other than he was a convenient target, and gosh, it felt good.  It felt guilty, yes, but good. 

I suppose if I were to look at the bright side here, I could say that I lost two pounds with all the crying.  That’s a lot of tears!

Man-Friend is coming over tonight.  We’re going to shoot stuff up on the XBox.  That should help.

She wants to know more about this Man-Friend of mine … so I’ve been trying to figure out how to do it without giving up too much info because I think he’d go batshit loco if he knew anything about him was on here.  Heh, lucky for me, he doesn’t know where my blog is, only that I have one.  At least I don’t think he knows.  Oh dear, now I’m getting paranoid.

K, anyway, Man-Friend is indeed from Earth as far as I can tell.  He’s a little different than your usual dude his age (which is younger than my age.  Like Demi Moore, I have a great appreciation for younger guys.  They’re more fun).  What I mean by that is he’s a pretty hard-core conservative – most of our other friends are not, so I think it’s a bit unusual.  I’m that way fiscally but not socially, so I have a hard time finding people I want to vote for.  But this isn’t about me, it’s about him.  He has a bust of Ronald Reagan in his room, and if you mention Ann Coulter, his toes curl up like he’s having an orgasm.  It’s pretty funny.  So yeah, he’s pretty freaking conservative.

He does not recycle without prompting.  I cannot even pretend that this doesn’t drive me up a wall.  Whenever I say, “Wait, that goes in the recycler,” he calls me a hippie.  He also says I eat hippie food since I generally don’t eat a lot of meat with the exception of steak, yum.

He’s a cat person.  Understandably, my giant dog freaks him out.  Magnus thinks people who are a little scared of him are the most fun.  He loves to jump all over them and really get them nervous.  Needless to say, Man-Friend is in that majority of my friends and family who think the moose-dog needs to go and be replaced by a cat.  It seems people are not impressed by 85 pounds of exuberant puppy.  Gee, I wonder why?

Let’s see – I mentioned “our friends” which should tell you that he’s a friend who is friends with my friends – he’s been friends with them longer than I have though.  These friends harassed him for like the past year about getting with me.  He said that if he didn’t do something soon, that there was a line behind him ready to go.  I thought that was pretty funny since I had no idea.  As usual – I never ever know when somebody is interested unless I’m getting hit on by a woman.  I think I’ve told that story before though.  I asked who was in line, and he actually told me.  That surprised me.  If the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t have told because I wouldn’t want him to go, “Oh really?  Her?  Hmmmm.”  I did not say that, however.  Not that the guys were bad or anything – they just weren’t him.

We both had Pro/Con lists about getting together.  He lost on mine, but the one big pro – “I want to” won out over all the cons.  I assume I won on his since we do what we do now, but when we were talking about our lists, we just talked about the cons.  Now I’m sitting here all curious about what was on his pro list.  So yeah, we’re both nerds.

He plays games like on XBox.  He’s way better than me at them, but my suckage is well-documented.  He’s got a group of friends that he plays Live with.  They all have really silly names.

Hmm, what else, what else?  We have a bunch of similar interests and disinterests, and we never seem to have a lack of stuff to talk about.  Don’t get us started on food.  We’re both obsessed.

He’s tall (to me anyway – he’s like 5’11”) and slightly built with the world’s nicest ass.  I know I’ve talked about his butt before.  I would not say he’s traditionally handsome, but I think he’s cute.  He’s very funny so I spend a lot of time laughing with him.  I think he spends a lot of time laughing at me, but I’m a dork and I laugh at myself all the time.

I think that’s about all I can give up without giving away too much.  In the meantime, I’m having a good time with him and I like hanging out with him.  So I’m content with the state of things on the Man-Friend front. 

So, Viggo Mortensen, the one man on the planet who could probably convince me to have his children, got an Oscar nomination.  Yay!  Oi, he’s a little hottie, yum.

Last night, my Man-Friend came over and taught me to fly.  I should say he attempted to teach me to fly.  We were playing Ace Combat 6.  Yet another game for me to suck ass at, but that’s okay.  I’ll practice.  He has the fancy controllers for it which were just another source of “too many buttons” confusion for me.  I yearn for the days of old when all we had were buttons A and B and the D pad.  It was a simpler time.

Damn it, my fucking dog has got in the mud again.  He wants in and is spreading his muck all over the back door, so I better go clean him.  Urgh!

Last night the Munchkin and I went to my spins coach’s (A) birthday dinner party.  It was at this place called Sushi Loco.  I don’t do sushi, but they had other stuff, so it was fine.  I had Shrimp Fried Rice, and Munch had Beef Fried Rice.  D suggested that I eat a California Roll, but I couldn’t get past the seaweed part.  I guess I’m not very adventurous with the food.  He also told A to make me try Wasabi.  Uh, I think not.  J and L were there too, but they got there really late so they were on the other end of the table from me which meant I didn’t talk to them much.  D wasn’t there at all because he’s off in Mansfield shooting targets with his BFF.  He put all his food input in on Friday when he found out I was going.

Anyway, it was pretty far from where I live (what isn’t???), so I had to limit myself to one glass of wine.  When I got home, I texted D about the party and found out he and his BFF had emptied a bottle of something (probably either vodka or gin with those two) and they were pretty wasted.  He said they were doing the drunk test.  I asked how that worked, and all he would say was that it was a male ice dancer thing.  After probing further, all I could get out of him was that it didn’t involve their dicks.  At any rate, I was a bit jealous not to have consumed part of their empty bottle.  Oh well!

Oh yeah, on the way home, Munch and I decided to stop and get ice cream.  I’m lactose intolerant, so you have to wonder how wise that decision was.  The thing is though, I love ice cream and cheese and all sorts of other dairy stuff.  So I ate it.  In fact, I ate an entire pint of Mint Chocolate Chip.  I’m a pig, but when you know it’s all coming back out via built-in bulimia, you say, “What the fuck?” and go for it.  Unfortunately, it didn’t all come back out.  I was a little freaked, thinking, “Oh shit, I ate all that ice cream and it’s going to stick.”  Sometimes the built-in bulimia just doesn’t work.  I don’t know why that is – I mean, if you’re unable to digest dairy and it gives you what it gives me, why doesn’t it always happen?  Well, it turns out it was on a delayed reaction.  I have spent all of today thus far in the bathroom.  Nice!  It’s giving me a chance to catch up on catalog browsing.

As far as other plans for today, I plan on living the Office Space dream of doing nothing.  I should go to the grocery store and Lowe’s (I need to get blinds cut for my bathroom which is freaking cold and needs help on the window areas to fix that – don’t worry, I’m not being an exhibitionist as the windows are that frosted kind or whatever that’s called).  I think I’ll do all that tomorrow though.  I don’t have ice tomorrow because whenever there’s a three day weekend, they do a hockey tournament, and we lose our ice.  All the coaches were excited because they get a rare weekend off plus most of Monday.  They have skate school Monday night, but I don’t go to that.  It’s for people who are just starting.

Random thoughts today:

1.  How old do I have to be before I stop breaking out?  I’m 38 years old, and my face has broken out for no apparent reason.  My chest broke out a couple of weeks ago and is just now clearing up.  The thing I don’t get is that I have really dry skin – like flaky dry (that’s attractive!), so how in the fuck am I breaking out anyway???

2.  I’m watching the Australian Open.  The women are scary huge.  Serena Williams scares me.  But what I really want to know is why do Australian accents sound so hot on the men but so freaking stupid on the women?

3.  I’m a little sad that I only have two real random thoughts at the moment.  I guess my brain isn’t on full power yet.  That is assuming it ever is on full power.  There are people who would say it never is, but they’re assholes!

Today I bought the Orange box (it’s a bunch of Half Life 2 games) and Gears of War.  I feel like blowing shit up and shooting aliens, so there you go.  Unfortunately, I cannot get to the damn roof on Half Life, so I have yet to obtain a weapon or shoot one single thing (or technically even start the real game.  I’m awesome!).  I’m getting my weenie ass kicked by the aliens.  I think I’ll wait a day or so before I try Gears so that my ego remains somewhat intact.

 I was practicing random songs on Guitar Hero this morning, and I got 100% on one (Miss Murder), so I was thinking it was going to be a good day for everything.  Oh well.  I sucked it at skating, like to the point that D asked if I wanted to call it a day and reschedule.  Oh, it was baaaaaad!  We were doing this one exercise which is designed to help me with my control.  My upper body will not check, meaning that when I turn, my upper body continues to turn rather than stopping my momentum.  So we were doing a forward outside three-turn, hold for a second, then do a backward inside three-turn.  If I’m allowed to do it fast, I can get through it before I spin off.  But this isn’t designed to be done quickly, so I was spinning out on the forward 3.  So we took that out and just worked on the back 3.  My hip was so far out of position that I just kept spinning inward.  This happened over and over and over again.  Such frustration!  I ended up nearly in tears and wouldn’t even look at D.  I actually was looking for exits and hidey holes, but none were available.  He finally said we were going to move on, but I was so pissed that I couldn’t, so even while we were working on other stuff, I was still bitching about the 3-turns.  Completely mental!  I feel sorry for him when I get insane like this.

At one point, my spins coach came in and wanted me to show D my sit spin, but that wasn’t working either.  It was just one of those days.  I haven’t had a day like this since October.  The good news is that after a screwed up day, you usually have a pretty decent one the next day.  I don’t have any coaches tomorrow, so I can work on my stuff in peace in a more relaxed manner rather than in a parlor tricks manner.  Friday I have both coaches, so hopefully I’ll get myself straightened out tomorrow for them.

In other news, my Man-Friend comes over tomorrow night, yay!  I’m looking forward to that.  He’s been very text-y lately which is nice.  I’m like, “Haha sucka, you’re thinking about me!”

So last night D asked me why I had gotten divorced.  It’s been a while, and I had to think about it because there were about eleventy billion reasons and not all of them were good ones.  Some of them make me kind of ashamed of myself and I’m embarrassed to admit them.  Some are too private – some even too private for me to admit to myself, if that makes any sense.  Some of them make you go, “Well, duh, you should’ve been divorced about ten years before you were!”

I almost broke up with Ex before we even got married.  We were in Chicago for the wedding of one of his best friends, and Ex spent the entire weekend fucked up beyond belief.  Clearly drinking in general doesn’t bother me.  Drinking excessively on occasion is fine too.  He wasn’t an occasional heavy drinker.  He was an always heavy drinker.  Like so heavy that a few times he didn’t wake up to pee and I got hit in the back with it.  Uh gross, that’ll wake you right up.  Anyway, back to Chicago … he was totally blotto, and I didn’t know any of these people, and he kept leaving me alone.  I’m painfully shy, so I wasn’t happy with that whole situation.  Plus, I was pregnant, so I couldn’t just join in all the drunken revelry.  That may have contributed to my being so sensitive about the whole damn thing.  At one point, he went off with this chick he’d gone to high school with, and they were gone forever.  They came back holding hands – to clarify, they were coming back holding hands, and I ran into them.  Um, uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe how that felt.  He swore up and down that nothing had happened, and really I didn’t care if anything had.  What I cared about was that he left his pregnant, shy girlfriend alone but was perfectly content to go off for over an hour with stupid high school girl.  That’s not cool.

I ended up going to bed alone that night, and he stayed out with his friends.  The next morning, the first thing he did (and I seriously mean first thing – he was still in bed) was reach over for his flask and start drinking again.  You know, hair of the dog and all that.  Ick.  I was like, “Motherfucker, is that how this day is going to start?”  Needless to say, it was another bad day. 

The next morning we left Chicago, and the whole plane ride home I was thinking, “I’m going to have to break up with him.  He treats me with absolutely no regard, and I’m not going to live like this.”  Thirty seconds would go by, and then I’d think, “But fuck, I’m five months pregnant.”  When we got home, I went to bed even though it was only like two in the afternoon, and I think it was about three days before I spoke to him again.  I’m not sure if he noticed!  But I knew I was too chicken to leave, that I was going to marry him anyway, and that no good would come of it.

I stayed for nearly eleven years because I’m stoopid like that.  It wasn’t all bad, but the bad stuff was things like I never had help with anything – like I was responsible for all the house stuff, making appointments, cleaning, laundry, etc etc.  If something needed to be done, I did it even when we were both working, and even when I was working and he was in school for like only twelve hours a week and had time to help (which was why it was funny, for me anyway, to watch his house stuff completely fall apart after I left – it was like, see, do you finally know all the crap I did for you???).  It was a lack of help to the point of he’d leave socks on the floor in the living room and not bother to grab them and put them in the hamper at some point.  I could leave them there for weeks, vacuuming around them, and they weren’t going to move unless I moved them.  That’ll wear on you after a while.  I couldn’t stand to eat in the same room as him because watching him eat made me nauseous.  I couldn’t stand for him to touch me.  He quite literally made my skin crawl.  He would say, “I love you”, and I would say, “Uh-hunh”.  And yet somehow, when I finally grew a set and said, “I’m done, I’m outta here,” he was surprised.  Completely clueless.  He later said he had been unhappy too.  That’s fine.

But the main reasons were that I didn’t love him and I wasn’t attracted to him.  It wasn’t fixable, and I never should’ve married him in the first place.  You have to wonder if I learned anything from it, and I think I did.  I know not to get married again unless I actually want to marry the dude.  That’s a good lesson.  I know not to get married to someone who pees on me.  Kind of duh, but true.  I know not to get married unless it’s going to be an actual partnership.  That’s why I think it’s really important to live with someone before you marry him – though I did live with Ex.  I just ignored all the signs.  So I know not to ignore signs.  I know I don’t want to get remarried anytime soon!  If I do it again, I want it to be right and I am not ready for that just yet.

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