about me


I was unfaithful to my hairdresser today.  Unfortunately, my hairdresser is also one of my best friends.  We’ve had our share of trouble getting my blonde just right, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore.  The back-breaker was when I lifted the top section of hair to blow dry the bottom and noticed striping.  That’s just not okay.  I’m very picky about my hair, and I can’t take that kind of screwed up shit.  If she sees me before I leave town again, I’m going to say D made me do it before the competition because my roots were so bad.

Which leads me to the competition.  We did the Edward G. Picken Pro-Am in Reston, Virginia.  Leading up to it, I kept hearing about how the judges were super-tough and we probably wouldn’t do well since we come from somewhere besides D.C. and aren’t used to their standards and it was going to be a bloodbath for us, blah blah blah.  Nothing like confidence-boosting.  D’s other adult that was going and I were in tears every day, ready to quit the whole sport since we apparently suck and shouldn’t be allowed on the ice with these magical East Coast skaters and all that crap.  Oh, also there would be eleventy billion of them, so we might as well get used to the fact that we were going to come in eleventy billionth.  I was in the car with D when he was on speakerphone with a former student who was talking about all this and asking if he had prepared us for this massacre.  Fucking awesome.  She’s so not my favorite right now.

So that’s the mindset I went to Virginia with.  Oh, and on top of that, the other adult D was taking has tested a level above me but since she hasn’t completed the level, she was allowed to compete at my level as well as hers.  So I figured she would come in second to last and I would be dead last.  When we got there, we found out there were only four of us competing at our level, but that they had had to combine age divisions to get that many.  So we were competing against younger people on top of everything else, but at least there weren’t very many people.  But still, as D would say, fuck me in the gonads.  Needless to say, I was rather unpleasant to be around.  I was going to come in fourth out of four and have some eighteen year old kick my ass.

We finally got to competition day, and I guess I was so resigned to losing that I was pretty relaxed during the practice session that morning.  D was pleasantly surprised by that – the relaxed part, not the resigned part.  When we got to the rink that afternoon for the actual competition, they were running behind schedule, so there was a lot of sitting around waiting.  Then I stood around.  Then I stretched for a bit.  Then I sat some more.  Then I said to fuck with it and put my skates on just for something to do.  Then I stood around some more.  Dude, that is a crazy maker!

Once our warm-up started, I got nervous.  Skating is a funny sport.  When you’re nervous, your knees don’t bend anymore, and if there’s one thing you need to skate, it’s knee-bend.  This always happens to me in test sessions, and then I really freak out and my legs shake.  It wasn’t as bad as my last test though.  I didn’t try to jump over the glass and escape the arena.  Anyway, I had to skate first, so I went straight from warm-up to performing.  I felt like my ChaCha was okay – there was stuff I’d have done differently if I’d been thinking straight, like put my head where it was supposed to be on the end pattern, but at least I wasn’t looking down.  For once.  My Fiesta Tango was pretty gross.  I screwed up the turn both times.  It was a nervous and scrapy turn.

I got to see the other skaters go, and at the end I felt like I had a decent chance for third place because the fourth girl was very very very nervous and it made her have giraffe legs and just overall she wasn’t very good (and now I’m going to hell).  I didn’t say anything to D about it and he didn’t say anything to me.  We went over the corrections (actually I told him what I wanted to fix, and he agreed), and then I changed into street clothes and went to Starbucks.  When I was in ballet, when you were done, you changed and left.  No big deal.

It’s apparently different in skating … while I was gone, I missed the scores going up.  It’s not like on TV where you sit in the little area (I REFUSE to call it “kiss and cry”.  That’s fucking absurd) and somebody announces them.  They print them out and post them on the wall.  I wasn’t even planning on looking at the scores – my original plan was to treat this like a recital and not worry about placement since it was my first competition and all that.  But since I thought I maybe had won third place, I went and checked.  D was on the ice with L and M getting ready for their stuff on Saturday, so I didn’t have anyone to help me read them.  It was very confusing since I skated first, and I kept showing up first, so I thought that that explained my name being up top on both dances.  The scores were done in ordinals, so you could see your placement from each judge.  That just confused me more.  Mine looked like this: 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 and 1 1 1 1 1 2 3 11.  I finally found a skater from Dallas to help me read the things, and she told me I won.  WTF???  And there was no-one to hug because they were all still on practice ice.  So I went to watch the rest of the day’s events.  When it was over, I found D.  He said, “Did you see the results?”  I said yes, and he said, “Here you go” and he handed me my medal.  I said Judge number 7 was clearly not a fan of mine.  Then we went back to the hotel and had sex.  I’m sure you wanted to know that!

Anyway, later on, he kept asking if I had called my parents, so I finally did.  My mom asked if there had been a medal ceremony.  Um, oops, yeah there had been, but I was at Starbucks.  I MISSED my damn medal ceremony!  It hadn’t even dawned on me that there had been one.  I was pretty appalled, but D said it’s no big deal at stuff like this – most people miss theirs.

So here’s how everyone else did:  In that same Pre-Bronze event, D’s other adult came in second.  She won her Bronze event, and she came in fourth out of 13 in the Open Willow Waltz event.  I was supposed to be in that too, but when I screwed up my knee, we pulled out.  Little M (she’s ten years old and has been dancing for just a couple of months, but she does do freestyle) came in fourth out of ten in her Pre-Bronze event and seventh out of eleven in her Bronze event which was really good because it was skating up a level for her and most of the girls in it should’ve been up a level or two.  D said that that age group gets really fucked up because girls won’t test until they find partners even if they are way beyond that level.  So we did pretty well.  D was happy with us.  It’s good for him too because it gets his name out there as a coach.

While I was there, the baby that my sister and brother-in-law are adopting was born.  The birth parents have signed the relinquishment papers and all that, so we’re in the waiting period with all the legal crap.  They should have the baby home by next Friday, but as Jason said, nothing has gone exactly as they’ve said it would, so who knows?  But they’re for sure getting her, so I’m an auntie now!  Yay!!!  Kim and Jason have been with the baby, and they met the birth parents and grandparents and all that.  The dad was having a little more trouble than the mom with the decision, but he said after he met Kim and Jason, he felt really good about it.  He was starting to scare everyone before that though.  My mom’s in Austin with them waiting out the waiting period.  They’re getting the nursery ready and all that.  I sent a box of clothes and diapers and other random baby stuff yesterday.  When Munchkin gets back from camp (he leaves Monday), we’ll go down there too.  The baby should be there by then for sure!

P.S. I’m having trouble with the ding-dang spell checker again.  Sorry for my oopses!

“Better fucking postures” was recently used to find my blog.  I don’t remember writing about better fucking postures, but I will say there are a few that hurt my back. 

Anyway, my house is now officially on the market.  If I never have to clean it again, it’ll be too soon.  I’d like to think I’m a fairly clean person.  I’m not fond of dusting because I’m allergic to dust (really, who isn’t?), but I love to vacuum and I do clean up after myself every day.  Well, over the last four days I have discovered that I’m a pig.  I live in filth and squalor and my mother would be less than proud of me.  I’m as messy as my sister, and if you knew her, you’d know that I’m truly disgusting.  Needless to say, I was horrified at what I found.  Dust bunnies the size of actual bunnies in the form of dog hair.  Questionable sticky messes on the kitchen floor which refused to be mopped and had to be shoveled off with my thumbnails.  An unknown substance on the wood floors.  I blame the dog for that – when he had a poo accident, it was there, ack ack ack (wow, that’s information I’m sure the people who buy this house would want)!!!  I’m not even going to say what I found on the windowsills, but ew.  So yeah, it turns out I’m gross.

While my house is on the market, I’m not going to use my shower.  That doesn’t mean I won’t take my showers (I’m gross, but not that gross) – I’ll just use Munchkin’s bathroom for that now.  But my shower is one of those glass enclosed ones, and they’re a bitch to clean and keep clean.  I won’t use my tub either because it’s also a bitch to clean.  The good news there is that I used Munchkin’s tub for a bath last night and it’s small enough that the hot water doesn’t run out before the tub is full.  That’s a very annoying problem with mine (also information I’m sure a potential buyer would love to hear).

I need to run errands and wash my car, but it’s raining like crazy here.  I wouldn’t bother with the car but it’s so dirty I can hardly see out the windows.  You know, I’m not sure why I think I’m a clean person when all the evidence is pointing the other way.

Is that even how you spell “jinx”?  I guess I’ll find out when I spellcheck which will render this sentence totally useless.  I’m hoping my ridiculously long absence will make you so happy to read anything I have to say that you won’t care if my sentences are tossers.  Heh.  Even Stephen King doesn’t have such luck.

Anyway, what I’m afraid of jinxing (is that a word?) is the house situation.  D and I found a house we both love in NM, and I had a realtor come by today (yep, on Mother’s Day.  I never said I was a nice person) to look at my house.  She wants to price it $20K above my best hopes.  Apparently tricking out the kitchen will pay off.  We’ll see, but I was pretty damn stoked.  She seemed to be too – I did a lot of upgrading to this house which just about excited the pants off her.  It’s good because the market in NM is much pricier than in TX.  I’m going to lose 1,000 square feet for a similarly priced and optioned house.  It sucks!  Texas is lovely in that way – everything is dirt cheap here.  I’m not sure where NM gets off pricing the way they do since I personally feel they’re the fourth worst state (1. NJ, 2. Miss, 3. Nev, and 4. NM – just my opinion and it’s based on the fact that people in my family are from these places and can tell you so.  Or in the case of NM, I’ve lived there and I know it’s a shithole.  We haven’t lived in Mississippi though.  They’re on my list because of their poverty and educational problems.  Sorry if I’ve offended, but honestly, if you’re from one of these places, then you of all people should know what a cesspool suckfest you live in).  I think NM sucks because it’s brown brown and more brown.  If you like rocks and dead looking plant-like things, go live there.  You’ll be very happy.  Also they have a state income tax and yet they still tax the groceries.  Texas doesn’t have a state income tax and we still don’t pay tax on food.  WTF?  The schools suck in NM and the drivers are all insane.  When I lived there before, they all went about ten miles below the speed limit.  It was like everyone was stoned.  They’re all on crystal meth now and they’ll blow by you going 90 in a 45.  Stupid fuckers.  And yet, I’m choosing to move there.  So I’m not allowed to complain about it anymore.  I’ll make fun, but I won’t bitch.  Yeah right!

I have a competition this coming weekend, so I won’t be around AGAIN.  It’s craptacular because I’m not online reading anyone else’s stuff or writing my stuff.  I feel pretty disconnected, but once things settle down and I’m not the traveling queen … well, it’ll be better someday!

My son’s here this weekend.  He’s playing Rock Band while I do this, and then we’re going to see Leatherheads.  We spent yesterday pulling weeds since I got a nasty note from the homeowner’s association.  I’m still so freaking embarrassed about that!

This is courtesy of Adam.  I think I got some of them right on his – he does movie quote answers and then you guess for a contest.  Yay, games!!!

1. Would you kill your neighbor?
Nah, he’s nice enough.  And his yard is weed-free.  They may come kill me though.

2. What’s one word that describes your last fight?
Politely yelling.  I realize that’s two words, but I don’t yell meanly.  It’s more of a tone of voice thing.  Then I threw the phone.  Very mature.  I throw stuff when I’m mad, but usually it’s the hairbrush because my hair won’t behave.  Also very mature.

3. What were you doing ten minutes ago?
Watching the Munchkin play drums.

4. Do you carve pumpkins every year?
Ew, no.  Pumpkin guts STINK.

5. What’s your favorite season?
Fall because the tornado threat is pretty much over and it’s not too cold yet.

6. How are you feeling right now?
My hamstrings are sore for reasons unknown, but otherwise fine.  The stomach virus seems to have passed, thank goodness. 

7. What did you do this weekend?
Besides the stuff up at the top, we went to dinner with my parents for their anniversary.  It’s actually on Monday, but they’re going to some fundraiser so we celebrated early.

8. What is the last thing you touched?
Myself.  Just kidding.  My mug of coffee, but that’s not nearly such a fun answer.

9. Have you ever been called a punk?
This is a really stupid story, but yeah.  It was the mid-80’s, and we were driving through Kansas on our way from my grandparents house in Oklahoma to my uncle’s cabin in Winter Park, CO to go skiing.  We stopped at this diner in Bumfuck, KS to eat, and I was wearing this flourescent multi-color and black sweater with black pants.  I had short, kind of sticky-uppy hair, but I’d say I was trendy, not punk.  Anyway, we were walking through to our table, and this giant fucker in overalls says, “Seat the punk in the back” and points at me.  Oh, appalling!!!  My family thought it was funny though.  I was worried about embarrassing my grandmother.  She’s very proper.  But she had just moved back from England and had seen actual punks and is a huge fashionista (I know, even in Oklahoma), so she knew it was ridiculous.

10. Do you have a favorite number?
I like seven.  Thirteen shows up a lot in my life.  I was interviewing for a job in Houston which was at 1300 Blankety-blank Ave., Suite 1300, so I knew I’d get the job because what worse hell could it be for me than to be stuck on an elevator to the 13th floor every freaking day?  My house is at 1300 Blankety-blank Dr.  And yes, there is a 1313 on my street.  Oh hell no, I wouldn’t live in that house!

11. Do you hate anyone/anything?
I’m pretty pissed at my sister right now.  She was the cause of the telephone throwing, but I don’t hate her.  I hate weeds. 

12. If you could meet anyone who would it be?
Stephen Hawking.  Yep, I’m a nerd.

13. Last time you went out to lunch?
That would be the day I met D’s parents.  So exactly a week ago.

14. Say you were given a drug test right now.
Dude, the amount of caffeine that would show up …

15. Do people ever spell your name wrong?
Yes.  It’s spelled Renee, and lots of people leave off that last “e”.  I’m a girl.  I get another “e”.  Gosh!

They changed some stuff on wordpress and I can’t find spellcheck.  Hope I didn’t goof too much!

See blogroll for his site!

1. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
Yes, in two and a half weeks.  This waiting is worse than being five and waiting for Santa.  My gosh, could time crawl any slower???

2. Last voicemail you received?
From Anjelica, I think.

3. What did you do yesterday?
I went to lunch and shopping with L.  I ate a cheeseburger.  Again with the cheese!  Then I came home and played Dr. Mario, and then I texted with Man-Friend all night long.

4. What’s the first thing you would do with 5 million dollars?
I’d pay off my teeth and then take a vacation for about three months.  Then I’d invest because I’m boring that way.

5. What color socks are you wearing?
White. They’re running socks, but I don’t run anymore.

6. What are you listening to?
My DVR is playing figure skating.  It’s the men’s short program, and quite frankly is dull, which is why I’m blogging.

7. How many fingers am i holding up?
Uh … two?

8. When’s the last time you cried?
Last night when I was watching “From the Earth to the Moon” for the thousandth time.  It was the second episode, about Apollo One.  The scene of Roger Chaffee’s wife with that silent tear running down her cheek kills me.

9. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Absolutely.  I wouldn’t have been a teenager without having crawled through at least one window.

10. What do you spend most of your money on?
Skating, definitely skating.  It’s making me poor.

11. Who has your heart?
Man-Friend, utterly and completely.

12. Have you ever kissed two people in the same day?
Everytime I visit my family I get kissed by more than one person, and no, I don’t mean in that Appalachian way, thanks.

13. Do you like yourself?
You can’t win if you answer that question.  If you say no, then you’re a depressed fuck.  If you say yes, you’re a snotty bitch.  I would say that I get on my own nerves though.

14. What objects are around you right now?
The bills I just paid, a remote control, a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper (I’m out of Diet Big Red and too lazy to fix it), a house phone, a cell phone, a box of Kleenexes, a tennis ball, and a sleeping dog.  I love him when he’s asleep.

15. What’s your middle name?
Renee, and it’s what everyone calls me.

I’m supposed to be skating, but I was up til 4 am on the phone (well, texting very naughty messages) with Man-Friend.  Since I didn’t make it to the rink, I’m supposed to be cleaning my wreck of a house.  I’ve unloaded the dishwasher and started a load of laundry, but the rest is kind of overwhelming, so I’m on the internetz instead.  Very productive.

Anyway, after all the texting, I woke up this morning really missing him.  I love waking up all intertwined with him.  We’re cuddle-bitches.  So to get myself out of the mopey-missing-him mood, I decided to think about the two things that are good about him not being here.  I’m amazed I could come up with anything, but here they are:

1.  I can eat all the damn cheese I want.  I’m lactose intolerant, but I love love love cheese.  I think I love it more than that Amy girl from Big Brother 2 (?) – the one with Marcellas.  I feel like it was 2, but I could easily be wrong.  When M-F is here, I don’t eat anything with cheese or creamy sauce or milk or anything else that would cause me to blow him out of the house with my lactose intolerant ass.  It’s so gross.  The night before last, I ate cheese enchiladas.  They are one of my all-time favorite foods, and they were fucking awesome until … ew.  No details necessary.  So it’s a good thing he wasn’t here for that.

2.  I don’t have to shave.  This may not seem like a big deal, but a) I’m not a natural blonde and I have very dark leg hair and very pale skin.  Even when I do shave, you can see the root dots on my legs.  Yuck.  And b) I’m a hairy monkey child.  I have enough hair for about three people.  I could give Adam Avitable a run for his money, and he is one hairy mo-fo.  I tried bikini waxing a while back, even going so far as to have a Brazilian for some time (and yes, it freaking hurt like childbirth).  The problem with waxing me is that I don’t get the promised four to six weeks.  No, I get maybe four days.  FOUR days, people!  Gosh!!!  I can’t ever go on Survivor no matter how bad I want to because they’d vote me off just having the nastiest bikini line ever.  For now, I figure I’ll shave on Saturdays just to keep from really turning into an ape, and then right before I go to New Mexico, I’ll weed-whack everything. 

So yeah, here I am sitting at my super dusty kitchen table because my desk is covered in crap, not cleaning my house and still unshowered and in jammies.  It’s 2:36 in the afternoon.  I’m disgusting.  Disgusting and I have leg hair so long you could braid it.  Oh, sexy mama! 

P.S.  I’ve added the man-friend category but haven’t gone back through to mark the other posts with it.  I’ll get around to it when I’m delaying cleaning out the garage or something.

In the category of people are really weird, the following term was used to find my blog:

“mature ladies in cotton briefs,pics”

How that happened I cannot even begin to guess.  I’m pretty sure I’ve never written about mature ladies in cotton briefs, and I know I’ve never written about pictures of them or posted pictures of old ladies in granny panties.  Dude, that’s just sick.

I have many updates on the Man-Friend situation, but they’ll have to wait until later.  I’m getting ready to go to Anjelica’s so she can color my hair, yay!  I’ve got Jersey Skank-Ho roots right now and cannot face myself in the mirror.

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